Books: Life of John Coleridge Patteson

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> Life of John Coleridge Patteson

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62

The 'Dunedin' was patched up into sailing with the new Bishop for his
cathedral--the banyan tree of Mota.

It carried him away to his work, away from all knowledge of the blow
that was preparing for him at home, and thinking of the delight that
was in store for his family in a visit from Mrs. Selwyn, who,
immediately after his Consecration, had returned home to spend a year
in England on business.

Sir John Patteson's happiness in his son's work and worth were far
greater than those of the actual worker, having none of the drawbacks
that consciousness of weakness must necessarily excite. The joy this
gave his heart may, without exaggeration, be deliberately said to
have been full compensation for the loss of the presence so nobly
sacrificed. On January 22 he had written to the Bishop of New
Zealand:--

'You write most kindly touching him, dear fellow, and truly I am to
be envied, qui natum haberem tali ingenio praeditum. Not for a
moment have I repented of giving my sanction to his going out to New
Zealand; and I fully believe that God will prosper his work. I did
not contemplate his becoming a Bishop, nor is that the circumstance
which gives me the great satisfaction I feel. It is his devotion to
so good a work, and that he should have been found adequate to its
performance; whether as a Bishop or as a Priest is not of itself of
so much importance.

'Perhaps he may have been consecrated before I am writing this,
though I am puzzled as to the time....

'May God bless with the fullest success the labours of both of you in
your high and Christian works!'

There had for more than a year been cause of anxiety for Sir John's
health, but it was not the disease that had then threatened which
occasioned the following calm-hearted letter to be written to his
son:--

'Feniton Court: March 22, 1861.

'My own dearest Coley,--I promised always to tell you the truth
respecting myself, and will do so. About a month ago, on my rising
from reading prayers, the girls and the Dawlish party who were here
exclaimed that my voice was broken, at which I laughed. Whitby was
in London, but his partner happened to call, and looking at my throat
found it relaxed, and recommended a mustard poultice on the front.
When we came to put it on, we discovered that the glands of the
throat were much swelled and in hard knots. Whitby returned in two
days, and was much alarmed. He declared that it was serious, and
nothing but iodine could check it. I had been unable to take iodine
under Watson some years ago, as it affected my head tremendously, so
he applied it outwardly by painting; this painting did not reduce
them, and he strongly pressed my having London advice, for he said
that if not reduced and the swellings increased internally, they
would press on the windpipe and choke me: it was somewhat a surgical
matter. So on Tuesday the 12th inst. we went to London, and I
consulted Paget. He entirely agreed with Whitby, and thought it very
serious, and ordered iodine internally at all hazards. I took it,
and by God's mercy it agreed with me. Paget wished to talk over the
case with Watson, and they met on the 16th, Saturday. They quite
agreed, and did not conceal from me that if iodine did not reduce the
swellings, and they should increase internally, the result must be
fatal. How soon, or in what particular manner, they could not tell;
it might even become cancerous. They did not wish me to stay in
town, but thought I was better here, and Paget, knowing Whitby, has
perfect confidence in his watching, and will correspond with him, if
necessary. At present there is no reduction of the swellings. The
iodine has certainly lessened the pains in my limbs, but does not
seem, so to speak, to determine to the throat, but it may be there
has been hardly time to say that it will not. My own impression is,
that it will not, and that it is highly improbable that I shall last
very long. I mean that I shall not see 1862, nor perhaps the summer
or autumn of this year. I cannot tell why, but this near prospect of
death has not given me any severe shock, as perhaps it ought to have
done. It brings more than ever to my mind serious recollection of
the sins of my youth, and the shortcomings of my after life in
thousands of instances. I have never been a hardened sinner, but
years ago, if I did what was sin, it smote me, and I tried to repent;
yet there has always been in me a want of fervid love to God, and to
my blessed Redeemer for His unspeakable love in suffering for my
sins; but it has been cold--that may have been the natural
constitution of the man, I cannot tell--but I never have placed my
hopes of forgiveness and of blessedness hereafter in anything but in
His merits, and most undeserved goodness in offering me salvation, if
I have not thrown it away. But what shall I say? As the time
approaches, it may please Him in His mercy to give me a warmer heart,
and a more vivid perception of all that He has done for me. If I
were to say that I am not a sinner, the truth would not be in me; and
if I am washed in His blood and cleansed, it is not by any efforts or
merits of my own, but by His unlimited mercy and goodness. Pray for
me, that when the time comes I may not for any fears of death fall
from Him. You know that as far as regards this world and its
enjoyments, save the love of my dear good children, they have sate
but lightly upon me for some time; but it is not because we have
nothing that we are unwilling to leave, therefore we are prepared for
that which is to come. Perhaps it may please God to give me still a
short time that I may try more strenuously to prepare myself. We
shall never meet again in this world. Oh! may Almighty God in His
infinite mercy grant us to meet again in His kingdom, through the
merits of our blessed Redeemer....

'Oh! my dearest Coley, what comfort I have had in you--what
delightful conversations we have had together, and how thankful we
ought to be to our gracious God for allowing it to be so: and still
not less thankful for the blessings of being watched and comforted
and soothed by the dear girls, and by that dear and good Jem. All so
good in their various ways, and I so little worthy of them...of
Francis. That will indeed, humanly speaking, be a terrible loss to
his family, for they want his fatherly care, and will do so for
years. Not so with me; and as I am in my seventy-second year, it
cannot be said that I am cut off prematurely: but on the contrary,
fall like a fruit or a sheaf at its proper ripeness. Oh! that it may
be so spiritually indeed.'

Another letter followed the next month:--

'Feniton Court: April 24, 1861.

'My own dearest Coley,--How many more letters you may receive from
me, God only knows, but, as I think, not many. The iodine fails
altogether, and has produced no effect on the swellings in my throat;
on the contrary, they steadily increase, though not rapidly.
Doubtless they will have their own course, and in some way or other
deliver my soul from the burden of the flesh. Oh! may it by God's
mercy be the soul of a faithful man! Faith and love I think I have,
and have long had: but I am not so sure that I have really repented
for my past sins, or only abandoned them when circumstances had
removed almost the temptation to commit them. Yet I do trust that my
repentance has generally been sincere, and though I may have fallen
again, that I may by God's grace have risen again. I have no
assurance that I have fought the good fight like St. Paul, and that
henceforth there is laid up a crown of gold; yet I have a full and
firm hope that I am not beyond the pale of God's mercy, and that I
may have hold of the righteousness of Christ, and may be partaker of
that happiness which he has purchased for His own, by His atoning
blood. No other hope have I; and in all humility I from my heart
feel that any apparent good that I may have done has been His work in
me and not my own. May it please Him that you and I, my dear son,
may meet hereafter, together with all those blessed ones, who have
already departed this life in His faith and fear, in His kingdom
above.

'My head aches occasionally, and is not so clear as it used to be....
The next mail will bring us more definite news, if indeed I am not
myself removed before then.... I am afraid that you discern by what I
have written that I am become stupid, and though I could never write
decently, yet you will see that continued dull pain in the head, and
other pains in various parts, have made me altogether heavy and
stupid. I have had the kindest letters and messages from various
quarters when it became known, as it is always very soon, that my
health was in a precarious state: one particularly from the Bishop of
Lichfield (all companions in Old Court, King's, you know) which is
very consoling. He says, If not for such as you, for whom did Christ
die? I will not go on in such strains, for it is of no use. Only do
not despair of me, my beloved Son, and believe me always,

'Your loving Father,

'J. PATTESON.'

'Feniton Court: May 25, 1861.

'O my own dearest Coley,--Almighty God be thanked that He has
preserved my life to hear from you and others of your actual
consecration as a Missionary Bishop of the Holy Catholic Church: and
may He enable you by His grace and the powerful assistance of His
Spirit to bring to His faith and fear very many who have not known
Him, and to keep and preserve in it many others who already profess
and call themselves Christians.

'I was too ill to be present at the whole service on Sunday, but I
attended the Holy Sacrament, and hope to do so to-morrow. We have
with us our dear Sarah Selwyn, who came on Thursday: she came in the
most kind and affectionate spirit, the first visit that she could
make, that she might if possible see me: "I will go and see him
before he dies." What delight this has been to me you may easily
imagine, and what talk, and what anecdotes we have had about you and
all your circle; for though your letters have all along let us in
wonderfully into your daily life, yet there were many things to be
filled up, which we have now seen more clearly and more perfectly
recollect as long as our lives are spared.

'What at present intensely fills our hearts and minds is all that
took place on St. Matthias Day, and the day or two before and after.
Passages and circumstances there were, which it is almost wonderful
that you all could respectively bear, some affecting one the more and
some the other; but the absorbing feeling that a great work was then
done, and the ardent trust and prayer that it might turn out to the
glory of God, and the good of mankind, supported every one, I have no
doubt. It was about one of those days that I was first informed of
the nature of the complaint which had just been discovered, and which
is bringing me gradually to the grave.

'Trinity Sunday.--I am just returned from receiving the Holy
Sacrament. You will do so the same in a few hours, and they may well
be joined together, and probably the last that you and I shall
receive together in this world. My time is probably very short.
Dear Sarah will hereafter tell you more particulars of these few
days. Dear Joan and Fanny are watching me continually; it is hard
work for them continually and most uncertain, but in my mind it
cannot be very long. Jem is here helping them continually, but his
wife's mother is grievously ill at a relation's in Gloucestershire,
and I will not have him withdrawn from her. I hope that next week
she may be removed to Jem's new cottage, next Hyde Park, and then
they, Joan and Fanny will watch me, and Jem on a telegraph notice may
come to me. If I dare express a hope, it is that this state of
things may not last long. But I have no desire to express any hope
at all; the matter is in the hands of a good God, who will order all
things as is best.... I would write more, but I am under the serious
impression that I shall be dead before this letter reaches you.

'May our Almighty God, three Persons, blessed for evermore, grant
that we may meet hereafter in a blessed eternity!'

One more letter was written:--

'Feniton Court, Honiton: June 12, 1861.

'Oh! my dearest Right Reverend well-beloved Son, how I thank God that
it has pleased Him to save my life until I heard of the actual fact
of your being ordained and consecrated, as I have said more than once
since I heard of it. May it please Him to prolong your life very
many years, and to enable you to fulfil all those purposes for which
you have been now consecrated, and that you may see the fruit of your
labour of love before He calls you to His rest in Heaven. But if
not, may you have laid such foundations for the spread of God's Word
throughout the countries committed to your charge, that when it
pleases God to summon you hence, you may have a perfect consciousness
of having devoted all your time and labour, and so far as you are
concerned have advanced all the works as fastly and as securely as it
seemed fit to your great Assister, the Holy Spirit, that they should
be advanced. Only conceive that an old Judge of seventy-two, cast
out of his own work by infirmity, should yet live to have a son in
the Holy Office of Bishop, all men rejoicing around him; and so
indeed they do rejoice around me, mingling their loving expressions
at my illness and approaching death....

'I shall endeavour to write at intervals between this and July mail.
It tries me to write much at a time.

'Your loving Father,

'J. PATTESON.'

The calm of these letters was the pervading spirit of Feniton. With
perfect cheerfulness did the aged Judge await the summons, aware that
he carried the 'sentence of death within himself,' and that the
manner of his summons would probably be in itself sudden--namely, one
of the choking fits that increased in frequency. He lived on with
his children and relations round him, spending his time in his usual
manner, so far as his strength permitted--bright, kind, sunny as
ever, and not withdrawing his interest from the cares and pleasures
of others, but glad to talk more deeply, though still peacefully, of
his condition and his hopes. One thing only troubled him. Once he
said, and with tears in his eyes, to his beloved brother-in-law, Sir
John Coleridge: 'Woe unto you when all men shall speak well of you,'
adding to this effect, 'Alas! That this has been my lot without my
deserts. It pains me now!'

But as this popularity had come of no self-seeking nor attempt to win
applause, it was a grief that was soon dispelled. Perhaps if there
was one strong wish, it was to hear of his son's actually having been
received into the order of Bishops, and that gratification was
granted to him. The letters with the record of consecration arrived
in time to be his Whitsuntide joy--joy that he still participated in
the congregation, for though not able to be at church for the whole
service, he still was always present at the celebration of the Holy
Communion.

On the day the letters came there was great peace, and a kind of
awful joy on all the household. For many weeks past, Sir John had
not attempted to read family prayers, but on this evening he desired
his daughters to let him do so. Where in the prayer for missionaries
he had always mentioned, 'the absent member of this family,' he added
in a clear tone, 'especially for John Coleridge Patteson, Missionary
Bishop.' That was the father's one note of triumph, the last time he
ever led the household prayers. In a day or two Mrs. Selwyn came to
him, and he wrote the following to the Bishop of New Zealand:--

'Feniton Court: May 24, 1861.

'My very dear Friend,--Here I am, and I have with me your dear and
good wife, who arrived yesterday. She looks well, and I trust is so.
She has arranged her visits so as to come to me as soon as possible.
"I will go and see him before he die," and I feel sensibly the
kindness of it. What a mercy is it that my life should have been
preserved to receive from my dear son Coley and from you by letter
the account of his having been consecrated by you as Bishop of the
true Catholic Church. There were [accounts?] of that most impressive
service, which, had I been present, would have, I fear, sent me to
the floor; and you and Coley must have had difficulty in holding up
at those feeling statements of your having received him at my old
hands. When you so received him, it was known I was satisfied that
his heart was really fixed on this missionary work--that he felt a
call to it. I believe, you know, and I am sure God knows, that I had
not the most distant notion in my mind that it would lead to his
becoming a Bishop, nor do I now rejoice in the result, simply on
account of the honour of the office; but because my confidence in the
honesty and sincerity of his then feelings has been justified, and
that it has pleased God to endow him with such abundant graces. May
it please God that you should continue together in your respective
governments in His Church many years, and that we may all meet
together in his kingdom above!

'When I parted with him I did not expect to see his face on earth,
yet perhaps I hardly expected that our separation would be so soon,
though I am in my seventy-second year. But in February I discovered
these swellings in my throat; which, humanly speaking, could only be
cured by iodine. Iodine has failed, and other attempts at a cure
fail also; and it is only a question of time when the soul will be
delivered from the burthen of the flesh. So indeed it is with all
human beings; but it is one thing to know this as a general
proposition, and another to know that the particular minister of
death has hold of you, and that you are really only living from day
to day.

'For all your many kindnesses to all of us and to my son, I thank you
from the very bottom of my soul, and pray that we may meet hereafter,
through the merits, and for the sake of our blessed Mediator and
Redeemer Jesus Christ our Lord, that as we have striven on earth to
be followers of Him and His glory, so we may be partakers of it in
Heaven.

'Your loving Friend,

'J. PATTESON.'

The July mail was without a letter from the father. The end had come
in the early morning of June 28, 1861, with a briefer, less painful
struggle than had been thought probable, and the great, sound, wise,
tender heart had ceased to beat.

There is no need to dwell on the spontaneous honours that all of
those who had ever been connected with him paid to the good old
Judge, when he was laid beside his much-loved wife in Feniton
churchyard. Bishop Sumner of Winchester, the friend of his boyhood,
read the funeral service.

'His works do follow him:' and we turn to that work of his son's in
which assuredly he had his part, since one word of his would have
turned aside the course that had brought such blessing on both, had
he not accepted the summons, even as Zebedee, when he was left by the
lake side, while his sons became fishers of men.

Unknowing of the tidings in reserve for him, the Bishop was on his
voyage, following the usual course; hearing at Anaiteum that a
frightful mortality had prevailed in many of these southern islands.
Measles had been imported by a trader, and had, in many cases,
brought on dysentery, and had swept away a third of Mr. Geddie's
Anaiteum flock. Mr. Gordon's letters had spoken of it as equally
fatal in Erromango, and there were reports of the same, as well as of
famine and war, in Nengone.

'God will give me men in His time; for could I be cut up into five
pieces already I would be living at Nengone, Lifu, Mai, Mota, and
Bauro!' was the comment on this visit; and this need of men inspired
a letter to his uncle Edward, on a day dear to the Etonian heart:--

'Schooner "Dunedin," 60 tons.

'In sight of Erromango, New Hebrides: June 4, 1861.

'My dear Tutor,--Naturally I think of Eton and of you especially to-
day. I hope you have as fine a day coming on for the cricket-match
and for Surley as I have here. Thermometer 81°; Tanna and Erromango,
with their rugged hilly outlines, breaking the line of the bright
sparkling horizon.

'I managed to charter the vessel for the voyage just in time to
escape cold weather in New Zealand. She is slow, but sound; the
captain a teetotaller, and crew respectable in all ways. So the
voyage, though lengthy, is pleasant.

'I have some six or seven classes to take, for they speak as many
more languages; and I get a little time for reading and writing, but
not much.

'I need not tell you how heavily this new responsibility presses on
me, as I see the islands opening, and at present feel how very
difficult it must be to obtain men to occupy this opening--

'True, we have not to contend with subtle and highly-elaborated
systems of false religion. It is the ignorantia purae negationis,
comparatively speaking, in some of the islands; yet, generally, there
is a settled system of some kind observed among them, and in the
Banks Islands, an extraordinarily developed religion, which enters
into every detail of social and domestic life, and is mixed up with
the daily life of every person in the archipelago.

'I think, therefore, that men are needed who have what I may call
strong religious common sense to adapt Christianity to the wants of
the various nations that live in Melanesia, without compromising any
truth of doctrine or principle of conduct--men who can see, in the
midst of the errors and superstitions of a people, whatever fragment
of truth or symptom of a yearning after something better may exist
among them, and make that the point d'appui, upon which they may
build up the structure of Christian teaching. Men, moreover, of
industry they must be, for it is useless to talk of "picking up
languages." Of course, in a few days a man may learn to talk
superficially and inaccurately on a few subjects; but to teach
Christianity, a man must know the language well, and this is learnt
only by hard work.

'Then, again, unless a man can dispense with what we ordinarily call
comfort or luxuries to a great extent, and knock about anywhere in
Melanesian huts, he can hardly do much work in this Mission. The
climate is so warm that, to my mind, it quite supplies the place of
the houses, clothing, and food of old days, yet a man cannot
accommodate himself to it all at once. I don't say that it came
naturally to me five years ago, as it does now, when I feel at home
anywhere, and cease to think it odd to do things which, I suppose,
you would think very extraordinary indeed.

'But most of all--for this makes all easy--men are wanted who really
do desire in their hearts to live for God and the world to come, and
who have really sought to sit very loosely to this world. The
enjoyment, and the happiness, and the peace all come, and that
abundantly; but there is a condition, and the first rub is a hard
one, and lasts a good while.

'Naturally buoyant spirits, the gift of a merry heart, are a great
help; for oftentimes a man may have to spend months without any white
man within hundreds of miles, and it is very depressing to live alone
in the midst of heathenism. But there must be many many fellows
pulling up to Surley to-night who may be well able to pull together
with one on the Pacific--young fellows whose enthusiasm is not mere
excitement of animal spirits, and whose pluck and courage are given
them to stand the roughnesses (such as they are) of a missionary
life. For, dear Uncle, if you ever talk to any old pupil of yours
about the work, don't let him suppose that it is consistent with ease
and absence of anxiety and work. When on shore at Kohimarama, we
live very cosily, as I think. Some might say we have no society,
very simple fare, &c.; I don't think any man would really find it so.
But in the islands, I don't wish to conceal from anyone that,
measured by the rule of the English gentleman's household, there is a
great difference. Why should it, however, be measured by this
standard? I can truly say that we have hitherto always had what is
necessary for health, and what does one need more? though I like more
as much as anyone.

'How you will wonder at the news of my consecration, and, indeed,
well you may! I would, indeed, that there were a dozen men out here
under whom I was working, if only they were such men as the Primate
would have chosen to the work.

'But it is done now, and I know I must not shrink from it. Never did
I need the love and prayers of my dear relations and friends as I do
now. Already difficulties are rising up around me, and I am so
little fit to be a leader of work like this. Don't forget, dear
Tutor, your old pupil, who used to copy the dear Bishop's letters in
your study from Anaiteum, Erromango, &c.; and little thought that he
would write from these islands to you, himself the Missionary Bishop.

'With kind love to all,

'Your loving old Pupil and Nephew,

'J. C. PATTESON, Missionary Bishop.'

This thoughtful and beautiful letter was written in sight of
Erromango, a sandal-wood station, whence a trader might be found to
take charge of it. The ink was scarcely dry before the full cost of
carrying the Gospel among the heathen was brought before the writer.
Not only houses and brethren must be given up, but the 'yea and his
own life also' was now to be exemplified almost before his eyes.