Books: Life of John Coleridge Patteson

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

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'Did I say I thought I might some day write a book? It will be some
day indeed. It seems funny enough to think of such a thing. The
fact is, it is much easier to me to speak than to write. I think I
could learn with a good deal of leisure and trouble to write
intelligibly, but not without it. I am so diffusive and wanting in
close condensed habits of thought. How often I go off in a multitude
of words, and really say nothing worthy to be remembered.

'How I should enjoy, indeed, a day or two at Hursley with Mr. and
Mrs. Keble. A line from him now and then, if he can find time, would
be a great delight to me; but I know that he thinks and prays, and
that is indeed a great happiness.

'Oh, the blessing of such thoughts as All Saints' Day brings!--and
now more dear than ever, every day brings!--"Patriarchs, prophets,
apostles, martyrs, and every spirit made perfect in the faith of
Christ," as an old Liturgy says. And the Collects in the Burial
Service! How full, how simple and soothing, how full of calm, holy,
tender, blessed hopes and anticipations!

'So you think the large Adelaide photograph very sad. I really don't
remember it; I fancy I thought it a very fair likeness. But you know
that I have a heavy lumpy dull look, except when talking--indeed,
then too for aught I know--and this may be mistaken for a sad look
when it is only a dull stupid one. You can't get a nice picture out
of an ugly face, so it's no use trying, but you are not looking for
that kind of thing. You want to see how far the face is any index of
the character and life and work.

I don't think it odd that I should look careworn. I have enough to
make me so! And yet if I were with you now, brightened up by being
with you, you would say, "How well he looks!" And you would think I
had any amount of work in me, as you saw me riding or walking or
holding services. And then I had to a very considerable extent got
over that silly shyness, which was a great trial and drawback to me
of old, and sadly prevented me from enjoying the society of people
(at Oxford especially) which would have done me much good. But
without all these bodily defects, I should have been even more vain,
and so I can see the blessing and mercy now, though how many times I
have indulged murmuring rebellious thoughts!

'Perhaps I shall live ten or twenty years, and look back and say, "I
recollect how in '64 I really almost thought I should not last long."
But don't fancy that I am morbidly cherishing such fancies. Only I
like you all to know me as I am changing in feeling from time to
time. There is quite enough to account for it all.'

A few days later he returned to Auckland, and thence wrote to me a
letter on the pros and cons of a move from New Zealand. The sight of
ships and the town he had ceased to think of great importance, and
older scholars had ceased to care for it, and there was much at that
time to recommend Curtis Island to his mind. The want of bread-fruit
was the chief disadvantage he then saw in it, but he still looked to
keeping up Kohimarama for a good many years to come. I cannot
describe how tender and considerate he was of feelings he thought I
might possibly have of disappointment that St. Andrew's was not a
successful experiment as far as health was concerned, evidently
fearing that I had set my hopes on that individual venture, and that
my feelings might be hurt if it had to be deserted.

The next letters are a good deal occupied with the troubles incident
to the judgment upon 'Essays and Reviews.' He took a view, as has
been seen, such as might be expected of the delicate refining
metaphysical mind, thinking out points for itself, and weighing the
possible value of every word, and differed from those who were in the
midst of the contest, and felt some form of resistance and protest
needful. He was strongly averse to agitation on the subject, and at
the same time grieved to find himself for the first time, to his own
knowledge, not accepting the policy of those whom he so much
respected; though the only difference in his mind from theirs was as
to the manner of the maintenance of the truth, and the immediate
danger of error going uncondemned--a point on which his remote life
perhaps hardly enabled him to judge.

All these long letters and more, which were either in the same tone,
or too domestic to be published, prove the leisure caused by having
an unusually small collection of pupils, and happily all in fair
health; but with Christmas came a new idea, or rather an old one
renewed. Instead of only going to Norfolk Island, on sufferance from
the Pitcairn Committee, and by commission from the Bishop of
Tasmania, a regular request was made, by Sir John Young, the Governor
of Australia, that the Pitcairners might be taken under his
supervision, so that, as far as Government was concerned, the
opposition was withdrawn which had hindered his original
establishment there, though still Curtis Island remained in the
ascendency in the schemes of this summer. The ensuing is a reply to
Sir John Coleridge's letter, written after hearing of the attack at
Santa Cruz:--

'Kohimarama: March 3, 1865.

'My dearest Uncle,--Many many thanks for your letter, so full of
comfort and advice. I need not tell you that the last budget of
letters revived again most vividly not only the actual scene at Santa
Cruz, but all the searchings of heart that followed it. I believe
that we are all agreed on the main point. Enough ground has been
opened for the present. Codrington was right in saying that the
object of late has been to fill up gaps. But some of the most
hazardous places to visit lie nearest to the south, e.g. some of the
New Hebrides, &c., south of the Banks Islands. My notion is, that I
ought to be content even to pass by (alas!) some places where I had
some hold when I had reason to feel great distrust of the generally
kind intentions of the people (that is a dark sentence, but you know
my meaning). In short, there are very few places where I can feel,
humanly speaking, secure against this kind of thing. It is always in
the power of even one mischievous fellow to do mischief. And if the
feeling of the majority might be in my favour, yet there being no way
of expressing public opinion, no one cares to take an active part in
preventing mischief. It is not worth his while to get into a
squabble and risk his own life.

'But I shall be (D.V.) very cautious. I dare say I was becoming
presumptuous: one among the many faults that are so discernible. It
is, dear Uncle, hard to see a wild heathen party on the beach, and
not try to get at them. It seems so sad to leave them. But I know
that I ought to be prudent, even for my own sake (for I quite suppose
that, humanly speaking, my life is of consequence for a few years
more), and I can hardly bear the thought of bringing the boat's crew,
dear good volunteers, into danger. Young Atkin, the only son of my
neighbour, behaved admirably at Santa Cruz, and is very staunch. But
his parents have but him and one daughter, and I am bound to be
careful indeed. But don't think me careless, if we get into another
scrape. There is scarcely one island where I can fully depend upon
immunity from all risk. There was no need to talk so much about it
all before.

'As to Curtis Island, I need not say that I have no wish indeed to
take Australian work in hand. I made it most clear, as I thought,
that the object of a site on Curtis Island was the Melanesian and not
the Australian Mission. I offered only to incorporate Australian
blacks, if proper specimens could be obtained, into our school,
regarding in fact East Australia as another Melanesian island. This
would only have involved the learning a language or two, and might
have been of some use. I did not make any pledge. But I confess
that I think some such plan as this one only feasible one. I don't
see that the attempts at mission work are made on the most hopeful
plan. But I have written to the Brisbane authorities, urging them to
appropriate large reserves for the natives. I tell them that it is
useless for them to give me a few acres and think they are doing a
mission work, if they civilize the native races off their own lands.
In short, I almost despair of doing anything for blacks living on the
same land with whites. Even here in New Zealand, the distrust now
shown to us all, to our religion even, is the result in very great
measure of the insolent, covetous behaviour exhibited by the great
majority of the white people to the Maori. Who stops in Australia to
think whether the land which he wants for his sheep is the hunting
ground of native people or not?

'I confess that while I can't bear to despair and leave these poor
souls uncared for, I can't propose any scheme but one, and who will
work that? If, indeed, one or two men could be found to go and live
with a tribe, moving as they move and really identifying himself with
their interests! But where are such men, and where is a tribe not
already exasperated by injurious treatment?

'It was the statement for our mode of action which commended itself
so much to people in Australia, that they urged me to try and do
something. But I answered as I have now written; and when at one
meeting in Sydney I was asked whether I would take Australians into
my school, I said, "Yes, if I can get the genuine wild man,
uncontaminated by contact with the white man." I can't, in justice
to our Melanesian scholars, take the poor wretched black whose
intercourse with white men has rendered him a far more hopeless
subject to deal with than the downright ferocious yet not ungenerous
savage. "If," was the answer, "you can get them, I will pay for
them."

'Indeed, dear Uncle, I don't want more but less work on my hands: yet
as I look around, I see (as far as I can judge) so great a want of
that prudence and knowledge and calm foresight that the Primate has
shown so remarkably, that I declare I do think his plan is almost the
only reasonable one for dealing with black races. Alas! you can't
put hearty love for strangers into men's hearts by paying them
salaries.

'I think that in two or three years I may, if I live, have some
preparatory branch school at Curtis Island. If it should clearly
succeed, then I think in time the migration from New Zealand might
take place. I do not think two schools in two different countries
would answer. We want the old scholars to help us in working the
school; we can't do without them, and the old scholars can't be
trained without the younger ones, the material on whom their
teaching, and training faculties must be exercised.

'You all know how deeply I feel about dear Mr. Keble!

'Thank God, we have as yet no dysentery. I baptized last week a lad
dying of consumption. There are many blessings, as all clergymen
know, in having death scenes so constantly about one; and the having
to do everything for these dear fellows makes one love them so....

'Your affectionate and dutiful Nephew,

'J. C. P.'

The above sentence refers to the paralytic attack Mr. Keble had on
November 30, 1864. Nevertheless, almost at that very time, he was
writing thus:--

'Penzance: March 7, 1865.

'My dear and more than dear Bishop,--It would be vain for me to write
to you, if I pretended to do more than just express my heart's wish
that I could say something of the doings and sufferings which now for
years past we of course associate with your name, so as to encourage
and support you in your present manifold distress. But (especially
for reasons known only to myself) I must leave that altogether to Him
who helps His own to do and suffer. One thing only I would say, that
to us at our great distance it looks as if the sanguis martyrum were
being to you as the semen Ecclesiae, and you know how such things
were hailed in the time of St. Cyprian. May it please God before
long to give you some visible earnest of this sure blessing! but I
suppose that if it tarry, it may be the greater when it comes. Our
troubles as a Church, though of a different kind, are not small. The
great point with me is, lest, if in our anxiety to keep things
together, we should be sinfully conniving at what is done against the
faith, and so bringing a judgment upon ourselves. I do not for a
moment think that by anything which has yet been done or permitted
our being as a Church is compromised (though things look alarmingly
as if it might be before long), but I fear that her well-being is
more and more being damaged by our entire and conscious surrender of
the disciplinary part of our trust, and that if we are apathetic in
such things we may forfeit our charter. There is no doubt, I fear,
that personal unbelief is spreading; but I trust that a deeper faith
is spreading also; it is (at Oxford, e.g.) Pusey and Moberly, &c.,
against the Rationalists and other tempters. As to the question of
the Bible being (not only containing) the Word, I had no scruples in
signing that Declaration. One thought which helped me was, the use
made in the New Testament of the Old, which is such as to show that
we are not competent judges as to what passages convey deep moral or
religious meanings or no. Another, that in every instance where one
had the means of ascertaining, so far as I have known, the Bible
difficulty has come right: therefore, it is reasonable to conclude
that so it would be in all the rest, if we knew the right reading and
the right interpretation of the words. And as to what are called the
Divine and Human Elements, I have seemed to help myself with the
thought that the Divine adoption (if so be) of the human words
warrants their truthfulness, as a man's signature makes a letter his
own; but whether this is relevant, I doubt. My wife and I are both
on the sick list, and I must now only add that we never forget you.

'Ever yours,

'J. K.

Nothing has hitherto been said of this term at St. Andrew's: so here
is an extract from a letter to one of the cousinhood, who had
proposed a plan which has since been carried out extensively and with
good effect:--

'The difficulty about scholars appropriated to certain places or
parishes is this: I cannot be sure of the same persons remaining with
me. Some sickness in an island, some panic, some death of a
relative, some war, or some inability on my part from bad weather or
accident to visit an island, may at any time lose me a scholar.
Perhaps he may be the very one that has been appropriated to some
one, and what am I to say then?

'This year we have but thirty-eight Melanesians, we ought to have
sixty. But after dear Edwin and Fisher's wounds, I could not delay,
but hurried southwards, passing by islands with old scholars ready to
come away. This was sad work, but what could I do?

'I will gladly assign, to the best of my power, scholars whom I think
likely to remain with me to various places or persons; but pray make
them understand that their scholar may not always be forthcoming.
Anyhow, their alms would go to the support of some Melanesian, who
would be their scholar as it were for the time being.

'You would perhaps feel interested in knowing that the Gospel of St.
Luke has been printed in the Mota language, to a great extent by our
scholars, and that George Sarawia is printing now the Acts, composing
it, and doing press-work and all. Young Wogale (about thirteen)
prints very fairly, and sent off 250 copies of a prayer, which the
Bishop of Nelson wanted for distribution, of which everything was
done by him entirely. They both began to learn about last November.

'When morning school is over at 10 A.M., all hands, "dons" and all,
are expected to give their time to the Mission till 12.45. Mr. Pritt
is general overlooker (which does not mean doing nothing himself) of
domestic work: kitchen, garden, farm, dairy, &c. You know that we
have no servants. Mr. Palmer prints and teaches printing. Atkin
works at whatever may be going on, and has a large share of work to
get ready for me, and to read with me: Greek Testament, 12 to 12.45,
Greek and Latin from 2 to 3. So all the lads are busy at out-door
work from 10 to 12.45; and I assure you, under Mr. Pritt's
management, we begin to achieve considerable results in our farm and
garden work. We are already economising our expenditure greatly by
keeping our own cows, for which we grow food (a good deal
artificial), and baking our own bread. We sell some of our butter,
and have a grand supply of milk for our scholars, perhaps the very
best kind of food for them.

'If we can manage to carry on a winter's school here with some ten or
twelve of the lads left under Mr. Pritt's charge, while I go off with
the rest, I really think that the industrial department may become
something considerable. It is an essential part of the system, for
we must begin with teaching habits of order, punctuality, &c:, in
respect of those things with which they have already some
acquaintance. No Melanesian can understand why he is to sit spelling
away at a black board; and he is not like a child of four or five
years old, he must be taught through his power of reasoning, and
perceiving the meaning of things. Secondly, we can gradually invest
the more advanced scholars with responsible duties. There are the
head cooks in the various weeks, the heads of departments in garden
work, &c., &c. As these lads and men are being trained (we hope) to
teach others, and as we want them to teach industry, decency,
cleanliness, punctuality, to be, and to teach others to be honest,
and careful, and thoughtful, so we find all these lessons are learnt
more in the industrial work than in the mere book work, though that
is not neglected. Indeed school, in the restricted sense of the
word, is going on for four or four and a half hours a day.

'The main difficulty remains, of retaining our hold upon boys. Oh
that I could live permanently in twenty islands at once! But I can't
do so even in one; and all the letter-writing and accounts, and,
worst of all, the necessity for being trustee for matters not a bit
connected with Melanesia, because there is no one else, interferes
sadly with my time. I think I could work away with the languages,
&c., and really do something with these fellows, but I never get a
chance. I never have two days together which I can spend exclusively
at Melanesian work. And I ought to have nothing whatever to distract
me. Twenty languages calling for arrangement and comparison causes
confusion enough!'

These interruptions made the Kohimarama life trying. 'As for
correspondence,' says the birthday despatch to Fanny, 'why this mail
my letters to Victoria alone are twelve, let alone Sydney, Brisbane,
Adelaide, Tasmania, New Zealand, and England. Then three sermons a
week, occasional services, reading up for a most difficult session of
General Synod, with really innumerable interruptions from persons of
all kinds. Sometimes I do feel tempted to long for Curtis Island
merely to get away from New Zealand! I feel as if I should never do
anything here. Everything is in arrears. I turn out of a morning
and really don't know what to take up first. Then, just as I am in
the middle of a letter (as yesterday) down comes some donkey to take
up a quarter of an hour (lucky if not an hour) with idle nonsense;
then in the afternoon an invasion of visitors, which is worst of all.
That fatal invention of "calling"! However, I never call on anyone,
and it is understood now, and people don't expect it. I have not
even been to Government House for more than a year!

'There, a good explosion does one good! But why must idle people
interfere with busy men? I used to make it up by sitting up and
getting up very early indeed; but somehow I feel fit for nothing but
sleeping and eating now.'

After an absence of three weeks at the General Synod at Christchurch,
the Bishop took up such of his party as were to return, and sailed
home, leaving those whom he thought able to brave the winter with Mr.
and Mrs. Pritt, on one of the first days of June. The first visit
was one to the bereaved family at Norfolk Island, whence a brief note
to his brother on the 9th begins:--

'Nothing can be more comforting to me than the loving patient spirit
of these dear people. Poor Mr. and Mrs. Nobbs and all the brothers
and sisters so good and so full of kindness to me. It was very
trying when I first met them yesterday. They came and kissed me, and
then, poor things, fairly gave way, and then I began to talk quietly
about Edwin and Fisher, and they became calm, and we knelt and prayed
together.'

After landing the Bishop at Mota, the others crossed to Port Patteson
where they found Fisher Young's grave carefully tended, kept clear of
weeds, and with a fence round it. After establishing Mr. Palmer at
the station at Mota, the Bishop re-embarked for Santa Maria, where,
at the north-east--Cock Sparrow Point, as some one had appropriately
called it--the boat was always shot at; but at a village called
Lakona, the people were friendly, and five scholars had come from
thence, so the Bishop ventured on landing for the night, and a very
unpleasant night it, was--the barrack hut was thronged with natives,
and when the heat was insufferable and he tried to leave it, two of
his former scholars advised him strongly to remain within.

It was bad weather too, and there was some difficulty in fetching him
off, and he was thankful that the wet had hindered more than 300 or
400 natives from collecting; there was no possibility of speaking to
them quietly, for the sight of the boat suggested trading, and they
flocked round as he was fetched off, half a dozen swimming out and
begging to go to New Zealand. He took three old scholars and one new
one, and sent the others off with fish-hooks, telling them that if
they would not behave at Lakona as he liked, he would not do as they
liked. However, no arrows were shot.

Then while the 'Southern Cross,' with Mr. Tilly and Mr. Atkin, went
on to land the Solomon Island scholars, the work at Mota was resumed
in full force. It seems well worth while to dwell on the successive
steps in the conversion of this place, and the following letter shows
the state of things in the season of 1865:--

'Mota: July 4, 1865.

'My dearest Sisters and Brother,--I must write a joint letter for
all, with little notes if I have anything more special for anyone of
you. I wish you could see this place. The old hut is queer enough
certainly, quite open on one side, and nearly so on another, but it
is weather-tight in the middle, with forms to sit on and a table or
two like a kitchen table, on which I read and write by day, and sleep
by night. Last night we killed five lizards; they get on the roof
and drop down and bite pretty severely, so seeing these running all
about, we made a raid upon them, poor things. The great banyan tree
is as grand as ever, a magnificent tree, a forest in itself, and the
view of the sea under its great branches, and of the islands of
Matlavo and Valua, is beautiful.

'At daylight I turn off my table and dress, not elaborately--a
flannel shirt, old trousers and shoes; then a yam or two is roasted
on the embers, and the coffee made, and (fancy the luxury here in
Mota!) delicious goat's milk with it. Then the morning passes in
reading, writing, and somewhat desultory talking with people, but you
can't expect punctuality and great attention. Then at one, a bit of
biscuit and cheese (as long as the latter lasts). Mr. Palmer made
some bread yesterday. Then generally a walk to meet people at
different villages, and talk to them, trying to get them to ask me
questions, and I try to question them. Then at 6 P.M., a tea-ation,
viz., yam and coffee, and perhaps a crab or two, or a bit of bacon,
or some good thing or other. But I forgot! this morning we ate a bit
of our first full-grown and fully ripe Mota pine-apple (I brought
some two years ago) as large and fine as any specimens I remember in
hot-houses. If you mention all these luxuries, we shall have no more
subscriptions, but you may add that there is as yet no other pine-
apple, though our oranges, lemons, citrons, guavas, &c., are coming
on. Anyone living here permanently might make a beautiful place
indeed, but it becomes sadly overgrown in our absence, and many
things we plant are destroyed by pigs, &c.

'Then after tea--a large party always witnessing that ceremony--there
is an hour or so spent in speaking again to the people, and then I
read a little with Wadrokala and Carry. Then Mr. Palmer and I read a
chapter of Vaughan on the Revelation, then prayers, and so to bed.
It seems as if little was done--certain talks with people, sometimes
many, sometimes few; yet, on the whole, I hope an increased
acquaintance with our teaching. You can well understand that the
consciousness of sin and the need of a Redeemer may be talked about,
but cannot be stated so as to make one feel that one has stated it in
the most judicious and attractive manner. Of course it is the work
of God's Spirit to work this conviction in the heart. But it is very
hard so to speak of it as to give (if you can understand me) the
heathen man a fair chance of accepting what you say. Forgetfulness
of God; ingratitude to the Giver of life, health, food; ignorance of
the Creator and the world to come, of the Resurrection and Life
Everlasting, are all so many proofs to us of a fallen and depraved
state. But the heathen man recognises some outward acts as more or
less wrong; there he stops. "Yes, we don't fight now, nor quarrel,
nor steal so much as we used to do. We are all right now."