“Paramatta, May 27, 1826.
“My Dear Mrs.——,—Should you sail to-morrow it will not be in my power to see you again. I feel much for your very trying situation; why and wherefore you are so severely exercised remains at present known to the only wise God. If time does not reveal the mystery, eternity will. Clouds and darkness are round about the paths of the Almighty, and his footsteps are not known. You must now cast yourself and your little ones upon the bosom of the great deep. Remember always that he who holdeth the waters in the hollow of his hand, will continually watch over you and yours; winds and seas are under his sovereign control. We are prone to imagine that we are in much more danger on the seas than on dry land, but this is not really the case; our times are all in his hands, and if we only reflected that the hairs of our heads are all numbered, we should often be relieved from unnecessary and anxious fears. As for myself, I am constrained to believe that I am as safe in a storm as in a calm from what I have seen and known. Should you meet with raging seas and stormy winds, let not these distress you; they can do no more to injure you than the breath of a fly, or the drop of a bucket, without Divine permission. The promise is, ‘When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee.’ This is sufficient for the Christian to rest upon. You must live near to God in prayer. Labour to get right views of the Redeemer, who gave his life as a ransom for you. Humble faith in the Saviour will enable you to overcome every trial and bear every burden. No doubt but that you will have many painful exercises before you see the shores of old England. Tribulations will meet us, and follow us, and attend us all our journey through, and it is through much tribulation we must enter the kingdom of God. Could you and I meet on your arrival in London, and could we put our trials in opposite sides, it is very probable that mine would overbalance yours during the period you were at sea. You are not to conclude when the storm blows hard, the waves roar, and seas run mountain high, that you are more tried and distressed than others.
“I hope the captain will be kind to you and the children; if he should not you will have no remedy but patience. Should the servant woman behave ill, you must submit to this also, because you can do no good in complaining. Should the woman leave you ... this is no more than what has happened to my own family. I should recommend you to give the children their dinner in your own cabin; never bring them to table but at the particular request of the captain. This precaution may prevent unpleasant disputes. You will soon see what the feelings of the captain and his wife are, and regulate your conduct accordingly. When I returned to England, when I entered the ship I resolved that I would not have any difference with any one during my passage; whatever provocations I might meet with, I would not notice them; and that resolution I kept to the last.
“If you take no offence at anything, but go on quietly your own way, those who would wish to annoy you, will cease to do so, finding their labour in vain. Never appear to see or hear anything that you have not the power to remedy. If you should even know that the persons intended to vex you, never notice their conduct. There will be no occasions for these precautions if your companions on board be such as they ought to be.
“Let your passage be pleasant or not, take your Bible for your constant companion. The comfort to be derived from the Divine promises will always be sweet and seasonable. ‘They that love thy law,’ says the Psalmist, ‘nothing shall offend them.’ If Jesus be precious to your soul, you will be able to bear every trial with Divine submission. To believe that Jesus is your Saviour, and that he is God over all blessed for evermore, will make you happy in the midst of the sea, as well as on dry land. Wishing you a safe and pleasant passage, and a happy meeting of your friends in England, and praying that the God of all grace may preserve you and yours in his everlasting kingdom, I subscribe myself,
“Yours respectfully,
“Samuel Marsden.”
More than two years had now passed since Mr. Marsden’s last visit to New Zealand. The close of the year 1826 found him preparing for another, his fifth voyage, of twelve hundred miles, to the scene of those missions he had so long regarded with all a parent’s fondness. A great change had just taken place in the conduct of several chiefs towards the missionaries in consequence of their fierce intestine wars. At Wangaroa the whole of the Wesleyan missionary premises had been destroyed; the property of all the missionaries was frequently plundered, and their lives were exposed to the greatest danger. The worst consequences were apprehended, and the missionaries, warned of their danger by the friendly natives, were in daily expectation of being at least stripped of everything they possessed, according to the New Zealand custom. For a time the Wesleyan mission was suspended, and their pious and zealous missionary, Mr. Turner, took refuge at Sydney, and found a home at the parsonage of Paramatta. The clergy of the church mission deeply sympathized with him. Mr. Henry Williams writes: “The return of Mr. Turner will be a convincing proof of our feelings on this point. In the present unsettled state of things we consider ourselves merely as tenants for the time being, who may receive our discharge at any hour.” His brother, the Rev. William Williams, in another communication says: “We are prepared to depart or stay according to the conduct of the natives; for it is, I believe, our united determination to remain until we are absolutely driven away. When the natives are in our houses, carrying away our property, it will then be time for us to take refuge in our boats.”
As soon as the painful intelligence reached New South Wales, Mr. Marsden determined to proceed to the Bay of Islands, and use his utmost exertions to prevent the abandonment of the mission. He was under no apprehension of suffering injury from the natives; and his long acquaintance with their character and habits led him to anticipate that the storm would soon pass away. Accordingly, he sailed for New Zealand in H.M.S. Rainbow, and arrived in the Bay of Islands on the 5th April, 1827. He had reached the period of life when even the most active crave for some repose, and feel themselves entitled to the luxury of rest; but his ardent zeal never seems to have wanted other refreshment than a change of duties and of scene. He found the state of things improved; peace had been restored; and the missionaries were once more out of danger. He conferred with them, and gave them spiritual counsel. As far as time would permit, he reasoned with the chiefs upon the baneful consequences of the late war, and, at the end of five days from his arrival, he was again upon the ocean, on his way back to Sydney. “He was not wanted in New Zealand;” in Australia, besides domestic cares, many circumstances combined to make his presence desirable. Thus he was instant in season, out of season; disinterested, nay indifferent and utterly regardless of the honours and preferments which even good men covet; and ever finding in the work itself, and in Him for the love of whom it was undertaken, an abundant recompense.
Brief as the visit was, it confirmed his faith, and reassured his confidence in the speedy conversion of New Zealand. He found the missionaries living in unity and godly love, and devoting themselves to the work. “I trust,” he says, “that the Great Head of the church will bless their labours.” In consequence of his co-operation with the missionaries, the beneficial labours of the press now for the first time reached the Maori tribes. During a visit to Sydney, Mr. Davis had carried through the press a translation of the first three chapters of Genesis, the twentieth of Exodus, part of the fifth of Matthew, the first of John, and some hymns. These were small beginnings, but not to be despised; they prepared the way for the translation of the New Testament into Maori, which was printed a few years afterwards at the expense of the British and Foreign Bible Society. The importance of this work can scarcely be estimated, and it affords a striking example of the way in which that noble institution becomes the silent handmaid, preparing the rich repast which our various missionary societies are ever more distributing abroad, with bounteous hand, to feed the starving myriads of the heathen world.
Nor was the Polynesian mission forgotten by its old friend. The London Missionary Society now conducted its affairs on so wide a basis, and to so great an extent, that Mr. Marsden’s direct assistance was no longer wanted. But how much he loved the work, how much he revered the missionaries, those who shall read the extract with which this chapter concludes will be at no loss to judge.
“Paramatta, February 4, 1826.
“My dear Sir,—It is not long since I wrote to you, but as a friend of mine is returning, the Rev. Mr. Nott, who has been twenty-seven years a missionary in the Society Islands, I could not deny myself the pleasure of introducing him to you. Mr. Nott was one of the first missionaries who was sent out to the Islands. Like Caleb, he always said the missionaries were able to take the land. He remained a long time in Tahiti alone, labouring by himself when all his colleagues were gone, and lived with and as the natives, under the full persuasion that the mission would succeed. He remained breaking up the ground, sowing the gospel seed, until he saw it spring up, and waiting until part of the harvest was gathered in, until many of the poor heathen crossed the river Jordan, with the heavenly Canaan full in view. Such have been the fruits of his patient perseverance and faith. Should his life be spared, I shall expect to see him again in fourteen months returning to his labours, to die amongst his people, and to be buried with them.
“I venerate the man more than you can conceive: in my estimation, he is a great man: his piety, his simplicity, his meekness, his apostolic appearance, all unite to make him great in my view, and more honourable than any of the famed heroes of ancient or modern times. I think Mrs. Good will like to see such a character return from a savage nation, whom God has so honoured in his work. I shall leave Mr. Nott to tell his own story, while you listen to his report....
“I remain, my dear sir,
“Your’s affectionately,
“Samuel Marsden.”“To John Mason Good, M.D.”
CHAPTER XI.
Death of Dr. Mason Good—Malicious Charges brought against Mr. Marsden and confuted—Sixth Voyage to New Zealand—Frightful state of the Island—Battle of the Maories—Their Cannibalism—Progress of the Mission—Mr. Marsden’s return—Death of Mrs. Marsden—Anticipation of his own decease.