MEMOIRS
OF
The Life and Labours
OF THE
REV. SAMUEL MARSDEN,
OF PARAMATTA,
SENIOR CHAPLAIN OF NEW SOUTH WALES;
AND OF HIS EARLY CONNEXION WITH THE MISSIONS TO NEW ZEALAND AND TAHITI.

EDITED BY THE
Rev. J. B. MARSDEN, m.a.,
AUTHOR OF “THE HISTORY OF THE EARLY AND LATER PURITANS,” ETC. ETC.

LONDON:
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY;
56, PATERNOSTER ROW; 65, ST. PAUL’S CHURCHYARD;
AND 164, PICCADILLY:
AND SOLD BY THE BOOKSELLERS.

Rev^d. Samuel Marsden

INTRODUCTORY NOTE.

The Editor would make his kind acknowledgments to the Church Missionary and London Missionary Societies for the free use of the hitherto unpublished correspondence of Mr. Samuel Marsden in their hands; and to J. S. Nicholas, Esq., who accompanied Mr. Marsden on his first visit to New Zealand, for the use of a valuable manuscript account of his residence in New South Wales, containing much information respecting Mr. Marsden. He has also had before him a manuscript life of Mr. Marsden by Lieut. Sadleir of Paramatta, from which several extracts are made. And lastly, he would acknowledge the courtesy of those surviving friends who have placed in his hands Mr. Marsden’s autograph letters to themselves or deceased members of their families. From these several sources the work has been chiefly compiled.

The Editor may be permitted to add, that the similarity of his name having led to the general conclusion (which however is incorrect) that he was related to Mr. Samuel Marsden, he has been repeatedly urged to publish his life. At length this request being renewed by the Religious Tract Society, into whose hands some valuable papers and documents had fallen, he was induced to comply with their wishes, under the conviction that the facts and incidents, as well as the moral grandeur, of Mr. Marsden’s life, were too important to be suffered to lie any longer in comparative obscurity. There are ample materials for a much larger volume; but of course the Editor has been obliged to select what appeared to be most suitable for general usefulness.

CONTENTS.

LIFE
OF
THE REVEREND SAMUEL MARSDEN.

CHAPTER I.

Early Life of Mr. Samuel Marsden—His appointment to New South Wales—Voyage, and arrival in the Colony.

Samuel Marsden, whose life is sketched in the following pages, was not ennobled by birth or rank, nor was he greatly distinguished by splendid talents. Yet he was, in the true sense, a great man; and he was an instance, one of the most striking of modern times, of the vast results which may be accomplished when an honest heart, a clear head, and a resolute mind and purpose, are directed, under the influence of the grace of God, to the attainment of a noble object. While he lived he shared the usual lot of those whose large philanthropy outruns the narrow policy of those around them. His motives were seldom understood, and in consequence he was thwarted and maligned. Nor was it till death had removed him from the scene that either the grandeur of his projects or the depth of his self-denying, unobtrusive piety was generally appreciated. At length, however, his character has begun to be revered. It is perceived that he was, at least, a far-sighted man; and that in his own labours he was laying the foundations for the successes of thousands; while in the church of Christ he is had in reverence as the Apostle of New Zealand—a title of high distinction, yet by no means misapplied to one who, in the simplicity of his faith as well as in zeal and self-denying labours, was truly an apostolic man.

Of his early life the memorials are but scanty. His father was a tradesman at Horsforth, a village in the neighbourhood of Leeds; and both his parents are known in the traditions of his family as having been persons of integrity and piety, attached to the ministry of the Wesleyan Methodists. He was born on the 28th of July, 1764, and after receiving the elements of learning at a village school, was placed in the free grammar-school of Hull, of which the celebrated Dr. Joseph Milner, the ecclesiastical historian, and brother to the no less eminent Dr. Isaac Milner, dean of Carlisle, was then head master. Here he was on the same form with Dr. Dealtry, the late rector of Clapham and chancellor of Winchester. Of his early youth little more is known; for his modesty, rather than any sentiment of false shame, to which indeed his whole nature was opposed, seldom permitted him to speak of himself, or to dwell upon the adventures or incidents of his early life. He was removed from school to take his share in his father’s business; but he now had higher thoughts, and longed to be a minister of Christ. That he was a young man of more than ordinary promise is at once evident from the fact, that he was adopted by the Elland Society and placed at St. John’s college, Cambridge, to study for the ministry of the church of England.

The Elland Society, so called from the parish in which its meetings are held, is an institution to which the cause of evangelical truth in the church of England has been much indebted for the last sixty or seventy years. It is simply an association of pious members of the church of England, who assist young men of enlightened zeal and suitable talents with the means of obtaining an education with a view to the Christian ministry. In its early days, the funds were supplied by Thornton, Simeon, Wilberforce, and others like minded with themselves; and the society was managed by a few devoted clergymen of Yorkshire and the neighbouring counties; amongst whom were Venn of Huddersfield and Joseph Milner. To this society Samuel Marsden was introduced by his friend the Reverend Mr. Whittaker, a neighbouring clergyman; and not without some apprehensions, it is said, on the part of the latter, lest his simple and unassuming manner should create a prejudice against him. Such anxieties were superfluous. The Milners themselves had fought their way to eminence from the weaver’s loom, and well knew how to distinguish real worth, however unpretending. The piety, the manly sense, and the modest bearing of the candidate, at once won the confidence of the examiners; and he was sent to college at their expense.

Of his college life we are not aware that any memorials have been preserved. He was, no doubt, a diligent student; and from the warm friendship which grew up between himself and Mr. Simeon in after life, we may infer that he profited from his ministry. He had not yet completed his studies or taken his degree, when, to his great surprise, an offer was made to him by the government, of a chaplaincy in what was then designated “His Majesty’s territory of New South Wales.” That a post of such importance should have been offered, unsolicited, to a student hitherto quite unknown, is supposed to have been owing to the influence of Mr. Wilberforce. He had already secured the appointment of more than one pious chaplain to the colony, and from its commencement had always been anxious to promote its moral and religious welfare. At first, Mr. Marsden declined the tempting offer; for such it undoubtedly was to a young man in his circumstances, although no human sagacity could then foresee its vast importance. He was naturally anxious to complete his studies, and he had a deep and unaffected sense of his own incompetence, while yet so young and inexperienced. The offer, however, was repeated and pressed upon him, when he modestly replied, that he was “sensible of the importance of the post—so sensible, indeed, that he hardly dared to accept it upon any terms, but if no more proper person could be found, he would consent to undertake it.” The choice reflects, no doubt, great credit upon the sagacity and spiritual discernment of those who made it. “Young as he was,” says one who knew him well in after life, Dr. Mason Good, “he was remarkable for a firmness of principle, an intrepidity of spirit, a suavity of manner, a strong judgment, and above all, a mind stored with knowledge and deeply impressed with religious truth, which promised the happiest results.”

He was accordingly appointed as second chaplain to the settlement in New South Wales, by a royal commission, bearing date 1st January, 1793. He was ordained shortly afterwards, and proceeded at once to Hull, from whence he was to take his passage in a convict transport, the only conveyance, at that period, for the far distant colony; a banishment of half a world. On the 21st of April, he was married to Miss Elizabeth Tristan, in whom, for upwards of thirty years, he found not only an affectionate and faithful wife, but a companion singularly qualified to share his labours and lighten his toils. Disinterested and generous as he was, even to a fault, it was to her admirable management that not only his domestic comfort, but even his means of assisting others so profusely, was owing in no small degree. While at Hull, an incident occurred which shows to what an extent, even thus early in life, he possessed the art of gaining the respect and warm affection of those who knew him however slightly. While waiting for the sailing of the ship, he was frequently asked to officiate in various churches. One Sunday morning, when he was just about to enter the pulpit, a signal-gun was heard; his ship was about to sail, and it was of course impossible for him to preach. Taking his bride under his arm, he immediately left the church and walked down to the beach; but he was attended by the whole congregation, who, as if by one movement, followed in a body. From the boat into which he stepped he gave his parting benedictions, which they returned with fervent prayers, and tender farewells. He now found himself in a new world. What contrast could indeed be greater, or more distressing? The calm, though vigorous pursuits of Cambridge, and the pious circle of warm Christian friends, were at once exchanged for the society of felons, and the doubly irksome confinement of a convict-ship. From his journal, which has been fortunately preserved, we make the following extracts, omitting much which our space does not permit us to insert.

“Sunday, 28th August, 1793.—This morning we weighed anchor, with a fair wind, and have sailed well all the day. How different this sabbath to what I have been accustomed to! Once I could meet the people of God, and assemble with them in the house of prayer; but now am deprived of this valuable privilege; and instead of living among those who love and serve the Lord Jesus, spending the sabbath in prayer and praise, I hear nothing but oaths and blasphemies. Lord, keep me in the midst of them, and grant that I may neither in word or deed countenance their wicked practices.”

It was not till the 30th of September that the fleet in which his ship sailed finally left Cork. The war with France was then raging, and her fleets were still formidable; so that our merchantmen only ventured to put to sea in considerable numbers, and under the convoy of a ship of war.

“Cork, 30th September.—This morning the signal was given by the commodore for all the ships under his convoy to weigh anchor and prepare for sea. About nine o’clock the whole fleet was under sail, which consisted of about forty ships. The wind was very fair, so that we were quickly in the main ocean. I was soon affected by the motion of the vessel; this rendered me quite unfit for any religious duties. Oh! how miserable must their state be who have all their religion to seek when sickness and death come upon them. Lord, grant that this may never be my case.

“Monday, 23rd October.—I have this day been reading a portion of Dr. Dodd’s ‘Prison Thoughts.’ What an awful instance of human infirmity is here! What need of humility in every situation, but more especially in the ministerial office! How needful the apostle’s caution, ‘Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.’”

The two following entries will be read with pain. The mercantile marine of England is still capable of great improvement in matters of religion, but we hope the instances are few in which the commander of a first rate merchant vessel would follow the examples they record.

“Sunday, 29th September.—How different is this sabbath from those I have formerly known, when I could meet with the great congregation! I long for those means and privileges again. 'Oh, when shall I come and appear before God?’ Yet it is a great consolation to me to believe that I am in the way of my duty. I requested the captain to-day to give me permission to perform divine service to the ship’s company; he rather hesitated, said he had never seen a religious sailor, but at length promised to have service the following Sunday.

“Sunday, 6th October.—The last sabbath the captain promised me I should have liberty to perform divine service to-day, but to my great mortification, he now declines. How unwilling are the unconverted to hear anything of divine truth!”

But Mr. Marsden was not one of those who are discouraged by a first repulse. The next Sunday relates his triumph, and, from this time, divine service, whenever the weather allowed, was statedly performed, though the captain was a grossly immoral man, and Mr. M. was constantly subject to annoyance.

“Sunday, 13th.—I arose this morning with a great desire to preach to the ship’s company, yet did not know how I should be able to accomplish my wish. We were now four ships in company. Our captain had invited the captains belonging to the other three to dine with us to-day. As soon as they came on board I mentioned my design to one of them, who immediately complied with my wish, and said he would mention it to our captain, which he did, and preparations were made for me to preach. I read part of the church prayers, and afterwards preached from the 3rd chapter of St John, the 14th and 15th verses: ‘As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness,’ etc. The sailors stood on the main deck, I and the four captains upon the quarter-deck; they were attentive, and the good effects were apparent during the remainder of the day.

“Thursday, 12th December.—I have been reading of the success of Mr. Brainerd among the Indians. How the Lord owned and blessed his labours to the conversion of the heathen! Nothing is too hard for the Lord. This gives me encouragement under my present difficult undertaking. The same power can also effect a change upon those hardened ungodly sinners to whom I am about to carry the words of eternal life.

“January 1st, 1794.—A new year. I wish this day to renew my covenant with God, and to give myself up to his service more than ever I have done heretofore. May my little love be increased, my weak faith strengthened, and hope confirmed.”

In this humble yet trustful spirit, Mr. Marsden entered his new field of labour. On board the ship there were a number of convicts, whose daring wickedness—in which, indeed, they were countenanced by the whole conduct of the captain and his crew—grieved his righteous soul from day to day; while at the same time it prepared him, in some measure, for scenes amidst which his life was to be spent. “I am surrounded,” he says, “with evil-disposed persons, thieves, adulterers, and blasphemers. May God keep me from evil, that I may not be tainted by the evil practices of those amongst whom I live.” His last sermon was preached, “notwithstanding the unwillingness there was in all on board to hear the word of God,” from the vision of dry bones (Ezekiel xxvxii.) “I found some liberty, and afterwards more comfort in my own soul. I wish to be found faithful at last, and to give up my account with joy to God.” To add to his anxieties, Mrs. Marsden was confined on shipboard, in stormy weather, and under circumstances peculiarly distressing, “though both the mother and daughter did well.” But the same day the scene brightened; the perils and privations of the voyage were drawing to a close, and they were in sight of their future home—that magnificent Australia—destined hereafter to assume, perhaps, a foremost place among the nations of the earth, though scarcely known to Europe when Mr. Marsden first stepped upon its shores; and valued only by the British government as a settlement for the refuse of our jails. He thus gives utterance to the feelings of a grateful heart:—

“March 2nd.—I shall ever retain a grateful sense of the mercies received this day, and the deliverances wrought. The Lord is good, and a stronghold in the day of trouble, and knows them that fear him.... As soon as I had the opportunity to go upon deck, I had the happiness again to behold the land: it was a very pleasing sight, as we had not seen it since the 3rd of December. We came up with the Cape about noon.”

In a few days, Mr. Marsden had taken up his abode in the “barracks” of Paramatta, a few miles from Port Jackson, and entered upon his arduous and toilsome duties as chaplain to the colony. His first Sunday in Australia is thus described:—“Saw several persons at work as I went along, to whom I spoke, and warned them of the evil of sabbath-breaking. My mind was deeply affected with the wickedness I beheld going on. I spoke from the 6th chapter of Revelation.—‘Behold the great day of his wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand?’ As I was returning home, a young man followed me into the wood, and told me how he was distressed for the salvation of his soul. He seemed to manifest the strongest marks of contrition, and to be truly awakened to a sense of his danger. I hope the Lord will have many souls in this place.” He had, for a short time, a single associate, in the Rev. Mr. Johnson, the senior chaplain, a good and useful minister, but unequal to the difficulties peculiar to his situation. This gentleman soon relinquished his appointment, and returned to England. And thus Mr. Marsden was left alone with a charge which might have appalled the stoutest heart, and under which even his would have given way, had he not learned to cast himself for help on One who comforted the apostle, under circumstances of the keenest suffering, with the assurance, “My grace is sufficient for thee.” On that grace our missionary chaplain trusted; and he found it all-sufficient.

CHAPTER II.

Discovery and early History of New South Wales—Becomes a Penal Settlement—Its state, moral and religious, on Mr. Marsden’s arrival.

The colony in which Mr. Marsden was now entering on his labours, and on which he was to leave the impression both of his holy zeal, and his far-sighted practical wisdom, is one of whose history our readers may naturally wish to have some account. We shall therefore suspend our narrative for a few pages, and lay before them a brief sketch of the earlier days of the great Australian colony.

Europeans are indebted for their first knowledge of the existence of the vast country which now bears the name of Australia, to the enterprise of Spain and Holland, when these nations were at the head of the world’s commerce, two centuries and a half ago. In 1607, Luis de Torres, who was sent out by the Spanish government on a voyage of discovery, passed through the straits which still bear his name, and which separate New Guinea from the greater continent of Australia; but he was not aware of its vast extent, and merely concluded that the coasts along which he sailed were those of a group of islands. Just about the same time, the Dutch explored the eastern shores of what has since been termed the Gulf of Carpentaria; and their knowledge of Australia was extended by subsequent voyagers, of whom the chief was Abel Tasman. In 1642, he discovered Van Diemen’s Land, which was long supposed to be a part of the great continent named by the Dutch New Holland—the Australia of modern times. Known as Tasmania, Van Diemen’s Land now immortalizes the great sea-captain. But these discoveries led to no immediate results of importance; and for upwards of a century New Holland was laid down, in charts and maps, as a region whose coasts were not defined, and whose interior was utterly unknown. Early in the reign of George the Third a noble spirit of enterprise animated the British government. Voyages of discovery were undertaken in the Southern Seas, under Captains Wallace, Carteret, and others; and at length the celebrated Captain Cook may be said to have retrieved a new world from romance and fable, and to have made it over to England and to the best interests of mankind.

On the evening of the 19th of April, 1770, unknown land was descried from the mast-head of the “Resolute,” of which Cook was the commander. The rugged coast of a vast continent seemed to extend far beyond the sweep of the telescope; and as the sun went down, the vessel, after soundings, dropped her anchor within a spacious bay. The smoke of distant fires told that the land was not without inhabitants; and it was determined, if possible, to open a communication with them. In the morning, a boat was rowed on shore, and the first Englishman set his foot upon Australia. A forest extended to the beach, and dipped its branches into the sea; while an abundant variety of beautiful flowering shrubs delighted the eye; and from this circumstance “Botany Bay” received its European name. A dismal solitude prevailed; for the natives, one or two of whom had been observed crouching behind the rocks, fled in terror to the woods as the boat approached. After spending a few hours on shore in search of water and fresh vegetables, and in the vain attempt to communicate with the savages, the boat returned at night. The bay was found to abound with fish; and the sailors were glad to relieve the weary monotony of their many months at sea, as well as to provide an agreeable change from their diet of salt meat and mouldy biscuits, in fishing both with nets and lines. Fish too was a wholesome diet for the sick; and at this period, even in the navy, sickness, especially from the scurvy, almost invariably attended a long voyage.

The natives, seeing the men thus employed, discovered in our sailors some tastes common to themselves, and at length ventured towards the fishermen in a couple of light canoes. After paddling about for some time in evident suspense, they ventured to approach the boat, then came still nearer and shouted, and having caught a few beads which were thrown out to them, immediately retired. Gaining courage from the peaceful conduct of our sailors, who were instructed to continue their fishing without any attempt to follow them, the natives soon returned with a canoe laden with fine fish, which they readily bartered for such trifles as the boat was provided with. They were invited, by signs, to come on board the ship lying in the offing, which they soon ventured to do in considerable numbers. At first, they seemed harmless, scarcely understanding the use of the various novelties on ship board, and not much surprised by them; and honest, until the sight of ten or twelve fine turtle crawling on the deck proved too great a temptation. First, by signs they begged for some of these, and then, not succeeding, made a childish attempt to carry them off by force. They set little value on the beads and baubles which generally have so great a charm for savages. Nothing tempted them to barter but turtle or iron tools and nails, neither of which could well be spared. On shore it was found almost impossible to approach them; such was the distrust and dismay with which they evidently regarded the intrusion of their strange visitors. On further acquaintance the savages were discovered to be a singularly helpless and timid race. Their country appeared to be very thinly peopled, and that chiefly along the coast, for fish were plentiful and wild animals were few. Of the latter, the largest was scarcely bigger than a greyhound, and the first sight of it caused great amazement to the sailors, one of whom rushed into the tent which had been pitched on the shore for the use of the sick, declaring, with horror depicted on his countenance, that he had seen an evil spirit. He described it as having assumed the colour of a mouse with two fore-paws, but that it sat upon its hind quarters “like a Christian.” An animal answering this description was soon after shot, and the flesh, when roasted, proved excellent food; it was called by the natives the kangaroo, and had hitherto been quite unknown to Europeans. There were no beasts of prey; unless wild dogs deserved that title, but the long grass concealed vast numbers of snakes and scorpions. At night, the forests were disturbed by the hideous flight of huge bats; by day, they echoed to the whooping of cockatoos and the screaming of innumerable parrots. Crows and a few wild pigeons were occasionally seen, and the rocks abounded with wild fowl, while now and then an eagle might be seen soaring far above. Such were the first impressions which Englishmen received, from their great voyager, of that vast continent.

On the return of Captain Cook, the accounts he brought home of New South Wales suggested to the government the idea of making it a vast prison-house for convicted felons, who had now become a sore burden, as well as a cause of grave uneasiness, to this country. Its distance and its solitude recommended it to their choice. It would effectually rid the mother country of a dangerous class—this was the argument of the selfish; and it would afford the lost the opportunity of starting afresh in life—this was the hope of the few benevolent and humane who cared for the welfare of convicted felons. No one thought of the future grandeur of Australia. None wrote or spoke at present of our duties to the aboriginal savages, or probably wasted a thought on the subject of their conversion.

In 1778, Botany Bay was selected by Sir Joseph Banks, who had sailed with Captain Cook as a naturalist and scientific observer, as a most eligible site for a penal settlement. But the project was no sooner broached than it had to encounter the most determined opposition from the public, to most of whom it seemed no doubt utterly chimerical and absurd. The “Gentleman’s Magazine,” the great organ of literature and science at that time, led the van. At first the editors affected to treat the scheme as an extravagant hoax; afterwards they tell their readers “with what alarm they read in the public prints that so wild a project was actually to be carried into execution.” However, “it could never be countenanced by any professional man after a moment’s reflection. Not only the distance, but the utter impossibility of carrying a number of male and female felons across the line, without the ravages of putrid disorders sweeping them off by the score, must for ever render such a plan abortive. The rains, the heats, tempests, tornados, and mountainous seas to be encountered, were enough to deter the most reckless of human life from such a hazardous enterprise. If any such desperadoes could be found, they ventured to foretell that their fate would for ever be a warning to others not to repeat the attempt.” The subject was not suffered to rest; a few months afterwards Sylvanus Urban—for under this name the editors of that able journal have for upwards of a century disguised themselves—returned to the charge. “The ostensible design of the projector,” they say, “to prepare a settlement for the reception of felons on the most barren, least inhabited, and worst cultivated country in the southern hemisphere, was beyond belief.” Moreover, “Botany Bay was beyond the reach of succour or assistance from any European settlement.”

Then again the lavish expense of such an establishment was another serious objection. “It was said that it was to consist of a post-captain, a governor, with a salary of 500l. a-year, a master, and commander. A lieutenant-governor, with 300l. a-year, four captains, twelve subalterns, twelve sergeants, and one hundred and sixty rank and file from the marines; a surgeon, chaplain, and quartermaster. The whole equipment, army, navy, and felons, were to be supplied with two years’ provisions, and all sorts of implements for the culture of the earth, and hunting and fishing. Some slight buildings were to be run up until a proper fort and a town could be erected. If such a report could be true, the expense would equal that of an expedition to the South Seas against an enemy.” If such extravagance were repeated with every freight of felons, “it would furthermore extinguish all hope of paying off the national debt.”

We leave the reader to smile while he muses on the short-sightedness even of wise men, and the strange fluctuations of human opinion. The government persevered in spite of these prophetic warnings; which probably represented the general state of feeling on the subject among educated men in England, with whom, in those days, Sylvanus was no mean authority. Accordingly, in March 1787, eleven sail, consisting of the frigate Sirius, an armed tender, three store-ships, and six transports, assembled at Portsmouth, having on board five hundred and sixty-five male, and one hundred and ninety-two female convicts, under Captain Arthur Phillip, an experienced officer, who was appointed governor of the new colony. The fleet set sail from the Mother Bank, on the 13th of May, 1787, and after a tedious voyage of eight months, the whole convoy arrived safely in Botany Bay in the middle of January, 1788. But Captain Cook’s description of the country surrounding the Bay was found far too flattering—the harbour being exposed to tempestuous gales, which often rolled a heavy sea upon the beach, while the land was deformed with swamps and barren sand banks. On pressing forward to a neighbouring creek, marked by Captain Cook as a mere boat harbour, Governor Phillip had the satisfaction to find one of the finest havens in the world, in which a thousand sail of the line might ride in safety. It was then called Port Jackson. The different coves of this harbour were examined with all possible expedition, and the preference was given to one which had the finest spring of water, and in which ships might anchor so close to the shore that, at a very small expense, quays could be constructed where the largest vessels might unload. This cove is about half a mile in length, and about a quarter of a mile across at the entrance. In honour of Lord Sydney, the governor distinguished it by the name of Sydney Cove. On the twenty-sixth of February, 1788, the British colours were displayed on these shores; the plan of an encampment, the first rude outline of the metropolitan city of Sydney, was formed. The spot chosen was at the head of the cove, near a stream of fresh water, which stole silently along by a thick wood now the site of crowded streets, the stillness of which for the first time since the creation was then broken by the rude sound of the labourer’s axe, and the hum of busy men. The anniversary of this great event has for some years been a festival in New South Wales. Governor Phillip landed with a thousand and thirty souls; his live stock consisted of six head of horned cattle and seven horses. The town and district of Sydney has now a population of three hundred thousand souls; every year the increase is enormous; and the ratio of each year’s increase exceeds the last.

These figures, however, make but a feeble impression upon us at a distance. The colonists feel a warmth of enthusiasm such as only the sight of the marvellous contrast can create. We copy the following extract from the Sydney Herald on one of these anniversaries—“the nativity of the city of Sydney and of the colony of New South Wales.”

“When we compare the town and the country as they are now with what they were then, we may well be proud of British enterprise, and of the local resources which it has so rapidly and triumphantly developed. How forcibly are we reminded of the miraculous transformation foretold by the inspired son of Amoz—‘The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them, and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose.’ Let the imagination attempt this day to realize the enchanting contrast. As we look upon the noble ships riding in our harbour, and the steamers, yachts, wherries, and boats innumerable, gliding to and fro amid the joyous excitements of the regatta, let us picture the three humble boats which, this day fifty-seven years,[A] were slowly creeping up the unknown waters of Port Jackson, in quest of a sure resting-place for our first predecessors. As we cast our eye over the elegant buildings which now skirt our shores on either side, and over the crowds of well-dressed men, women and children, who are keeping holiday on this our national festival, let us think of the dense woods which then frowned on Governor Phillip, of the profound silence that reigned around him, of the awful sense of solitude with which he and his little band must have been impressed, and of the exultation they would have felt could they have foreseen that, within so brief a term, the wilderness they were approaching would have become ‘replenished’ with a teeming population, and have been ‘subdued’ to the beauty and affluence of civilized life.”

But the dark side of this romantic picture must not be withheld. The infant colony was chiefly composed of the worst class of felons; they were the days of barbarous justice even in England, and it would often be difficult to say why some convicts were sentenced to transportation, while others for lighter causes were punished with death. There was, at that time, a fearful indifference to human life in our penal code. Punishment was its sole object; amendment was seldom if ever contemplated. Amongst the convicts there was every shade of crime, but scarcely any corresponding gradation of punishment. The truth is, true religion was at its lowest ebb, and pure philanthropy, in consequence, all but unknown; a formal, heartless religion prevailed; and, as one of its fruits, a stern and iron code of law. The convict-ship, which has now become a reformatory school, was rivalled in its horrors only by the slave-ship; indeed if the physical suffering was greater in the latter, in moral torture and mental defilement the hold of the convict-ship had, beyond all doubt, the bad pre-eminence.

The prisoners consisted of the most abandoned persons of all nations; British, Dutch, and Portuguese sailors, the polite swindler, and the audacious highwayman, with their female accomplices. They were shipped off in chains; during the passage outward a detachment of soldiers was constantly on guard; and the voyage was seldom accomplished without bloodshed. The secret plots, in which the prisoners were continually engaged, broke out into open mutiny whenever circumstances offered a chance of success; for this purpose a storm, a leak, or a feigned sickness, was readily taken advantage of. When signs of such disturbances showed themselves, the ringleaders were seized and tried in a summary way by court martial; but the sailors often refused to enforce the sentence, so that it became necessary to compel obedience with loaded muskets.

The hold of a convict-ship presented a melancholy picture of human depravity. In the course of the voyage most of the felons survived the sense of shame: the sounds of ribaldry and boisterous mirth, mingled with catches from the popular songs of the day, issued unceasingly from the prisoners’ deck; this uproar was ever and anon increased by more riotous disturbances, blows and bloodshed followed; and occasionally the monotony of the voyage was broken by mock trials among the prisoners, to show that even in the most profligate and abandoned the principle of justice was not altogether destroyed. When a prisoner committed an offence against his fellows, a judge was appointed, advocates were assigned to the prosecutor and the accused, a jury was sworn to try according to the evidence, witnesses were examined, and the prisoner, being found guilty, was sentenced to an immediate and brutal punishment.

From such elements the society of New South Wales was formed. Most of the convicts, after a short servitude, obtained tickets-of-leave, and settled upon the parcels of land allotted to them by government; and by the improvement of such opportunities they easily drew a subsistence from the soil; others devoted themselves to the care of cattle; while many more, as the colony increased, betook themselves to trade, by which means large fortunes were frequently acquired. Many of the convicts in the course of a few years contrived to amass great wealth, which was expended in the extension, or improvement of their property. The results of such industry were to be seen in the cleared inclosures, the neat orchard, and the trim garden that here and there surrounded a well-built brick-house. Even here honest labour seems to have been crowned with success.

Free settlers were at present few in number, and the convict on his plot of land had many advantages over them. From acquaintance with the climate and the modes of cultivation best suited to the soil, as well as the easiest method of carrying on agricultural operations, he had learned to avoid many fruitless experiments. He understood the habits and character of the servants who assisted him, for the labourers were all of them felons; and he himself had probably shared the same cell, and worked in the same gang. He understood their principles of action; and they were infected with his prejudices. They lived together, ate at the same board and slept under the same roof. Thus a good understanding was maintained between them by his connivance with their follies or their vices. The men themselves always preferred a master who had been a prisoner to a free settler of stricter virtue, and a disposition less akin to their own; and for such an one they would make extraordinary exertions, of great importance at seed time and harvest, which a better master could not obtain at any cost.

A brotherhood and close fellowship, the fruit of old associations, sprang up among the convict population. Many considered themselves as martyrs to the vengeance rather than the justice of the law; others, transported for political offences, regarded themselves in the light of patriots. In short a unity of interest cemented them; and each newly arrived convict ship was heartily welcomed. When it anchored in the harbour boats swarmed around it, the decks were crowded, the new comers were loaded with presents of fresh bread and other luxuries. They were pressed with eager inquiries after absent friends, the comrades they had left in English jails. They were greeted with the heartiness of old companions, and without reluctance exchanged the close confinement of the convict ship for the fellowship of their old acquaintance on shore. The colony at this time abounded with Irish who had shared in the rebellion of 1798, and who generally brought with them a fair knowledge of agriculture without very industrious habits. They attached little turpitude to their offences, considering themselves rather as sacrificed to the cause of freedom. Indeed it is well ascertained that some of them had been banished without even the formality of a trial, some without any specific sentence as to the term of their transportation, victims to the angry spirit of the times. They are described as, for the most part, conducting themselves with great propriety in the hope of one day regaining their freedom, and being restored to their long absent friends. Such men as these proved excellent colonists, and successful settlers.

The criminal history of the colony in its first years discloses a dreadful list of both crimes and punishments. Small bodies of the convicts occasionally broke loose, fled to the woods, and there, setting all restraints at defiance, became reckless and ferocious. The dread of punishment did not restrain them from robbery, murder, and the most appalling crimes. The risks were well calculated, for the chances of conviction were few, and punishment was uncertain. If they were detected, a convict, being dead in law, could not be summoned as a witness. The jury would probably be composed of men who had been sharers in crimes of equal magnitude, perhaps old associates. The prisoners would be defended by convict attorneys, a nefarious class with which the colonial courts were filled. Ineffectual attempts were made to exclude these men, but the influence they had been suffered already to attain, made this impracticable. Amongst the most notorious of them was one who obtained a large practice by dint of his ingenuity, and managed the most important business in the colony. He had been some years previously sentenced to transportation for life, for forging a will. He had resorted to the ingenious device of putting a fly into the mouth of a dead man, and then guiding his hand to trace his signature to the writing; and, upon the trial, he swore, with audacious assurance, that he saw the testator sign the will while life was in him. In passing sentence, the late Lord Ellenborough took the opportunity of congratulating the profession on getting rid of such a pest.

The records of the court are scarcely less painful than the history of the criminals themselves. The punishments adjudged were frightfully severe. If they did not reclaim the prisoner, they must have hardened him beyond recovery, if indeed they did not in many instances torture him to death. The men thus punished were already convicts it is true, and more than usual severity may have been justified. But no penal code emanating from a people professing the name of Christ may inflict savage and barbarous penalties. They recoil with disgrace upon the legislation which exacts them, and a whole nation is degraded in the person of its own malefactors; while God’s displeasure is evident both in the increase and audacity of criminals on the one hand, and in the loss of humane and virtuous sentiments throughout the community on the other. We have taken three cases as a specimen of the method in which justice was dealt out to criminals in the early days of the colony in New South Wales.

“John Allen, stealing in dwelling-house to the value of forty shillings. Publicly whipped, hundred lashes, confined in solitary cell at Paramatta on bread and water for six months, and hard labour at Newcastle three years.”

“Michael Hoare and James Gilchrist, feloniously and burglariously breaking and entering Schoolhouse at Kissing Point, and stealing from there divers articles of property. Twelve months solitary confinement at Paramatta, two years hard labour in jail gang, then transported for life to Newcastle.”

“John Hale, Robert Holton, and Peter Allen, killing a bullock with intent to steal the carcase. Solitary confinement on bread and water for three years in Paramatta jail, afterwards two years labour in jail gang there, and afterwards transportation for life to Newcastle.”[B]

Such was the sphere of Mr. Marsden’s labours, such the difficulties with which he had to contend, and the system, too, which, as a magistrate, he was even called upon to administer. A more hopeless task could scarcely have been undertaken; but he set himself vigorously to work, looking to the Strong One for strength, and the fruit was “seen after many days.”

FOOTNOTES:

[A] This was published in 1845.

[B] See Wentworth’s Colony of New South Wales, second edition, 1820.

CHAPTER III.

Mr. Marsden appointed to the Magistracy—Objections to this considered—Cultivates Land—Charge of Secularity considered—His connexion with the London Missionary Society, and care of its Polynesian Mission—Revisits England in 1807.

The retirement of the senior chaplain left Mr. Marsden in sole charge of the spiritual concerns of the infant colony. He had now to officiate at the three settlements of Sydney, Paramatta, and Hawkesbury without assistance. The nature of the population, consisting as it did of a mass of criminals, rendered his ministerial labours peculiarly distressing. The state of morals was utterly depraved; oaths and ribaldry, and audacious lying were universal; marriage, and the sacred ties of domestic life, were almost unknown, and those who, from their station, should have set an example to the convicts and settlers, encouraged sin in others by the effrontery of their own transgressions. Under discouragement such as would have subdued the spirit of most men, did he, for the long period of fourteen years, continue at his post; cheered it is true with occasional gleams of success, but upon the whole rather a witness against abounding vice, than, at present, a successful evangelist. Nor were domestic trials wanting to complete that process of salutary discipline by which “the great Shepherd of the sheep” was preparing his servant for other and wider scenes of labour, and for triumphs greater than the church in these later days had known. His firstborn son, a lovely and promising child scarcely two years old, was thrown from its mother’s arms by a sudden jerk of the gig in which they were seated, and killed upon the spot. It would be impossible to describe the agonized feelings of the mother under such a bereavement, nor were the sorrows of the father less profound. He received the tidings, together with the body of his lifeless boy, we are told, with “calm, and even dignified submission,” for “he was a man who said little though he felt much.” A second stroke, still more painful, was to follow. Mrs. Marsden, determined not to hazard the safety of another child, left her babe at home in charge of a domestic while she drove out. But her very precaution was the occasion of his death: the little creature strayed into the kitchen unobserved, fell backwards into a pan of boiling water, and its death followed soon after. Thus early in his ministerial career the iron entered his own soul, and taught him that sympathy for the wounded spirit which marked his character through life.

DISTANT VIEW OF SYDNEY

But from these scenes of private suffering we must turn aside. The public life and ministerial labours of Mr. Marsden require our attention; and as we enter upon the review of them we must notice two circumstances which from the very outset of his career exposed him to frequent suspicion and obloquy, both in the colony and at home, and formed in fact the chief materials, so to speak, out of which his opponents wove the calumnies with which they harassed the greater portion of his life.

He had scarcely arrived at his post when he was appointed a colonial magistrate. Under ordinary circumstances, we should condemn in the strongest manner the union of functions so obviously incompatible as those of the Christian minister and the civil judge. To use the words of a great living authority on judicial questions, a late lord chancellor,[C] “it is the union of two noble offices to the detriment of both.” Yet it seems in the case before us, that the office was forced upon Mr. Marsden, not as a complimentary distinction, but as one of the stern duties of his position as a colonial chaplain, who was bound to maintain the authority of the law amidst a population of lawless and dangerous men. Port Jackson, or Botany Bay as it was generally called, was then and long afterwards merely a penal settlement. The governor was absolute, and the discipline he enforced was, perhaps of necessity, harsh and rigid. Resistance to the law and its administrators was of daily occurrence; life and property were always insecure, and even armed rebellion sometimes broke out. If the government thought it necessary, for the safety of this extraordinary community, to select a minister of the gospel to fill the office of a magistrate, he had no alternative but to submit, or else to resign his chaplaincy and return home. Mr. Marsden chose to remain; moved by the hope of being able to infuse something of the spirit of the gospel into the administration of justice, and to introduce far higher principles than those which he saw prevailing amongst the magistrates themselves. In both of these objects he succeeded to an eminent extent, though not till after the lapse of years, and a remonstrance carried by himself in person to the government at home. Justice was dealt even to the greatest criminals more fairly, and the bench of magistrates grew at length ashamed, in the presence of the chaplain of Paramatta, of its own hitherto unabashed licentiousness. But the cost was great. He was involved in secular business from day to day, and that often of the most painful kind. His equal-handed justice made him a host of personal enemies in those whose vices he punished; and, still more, in those whose corrupt and partial administration of the law was rebuked by the example of his integrity. In the share he was obliged to take in the civil affairs of the colony differences of opinion would naturally arise, and angry feelings would, as usual follow. Of course he was not free from human infirmity, his own temper was sometimes disturbed. Thus for years, especially during his early residence in New South Wales, he was in frequent collision with the magistrates, and occasionally even with the governor. Again and again he would have resigned his commission, but was not allowed to do so; meanwhile his mind was often distracted and his character maligned. To these trials we shall be obliged to refer as we trace his steps through life; but we mean to do so as seldom as we can, for the subject is painful, and, since few men can ever be placed in his circumstances, to most of us unprofitable.

Another point on which Mr. Marsden’s conduct has been severely, and yet most unjustly blamed, is that he was engaged in the cultivation of a considerable tract of land. Avarice and secularity were roundly charged upon him in consequence; for it was his painful lot through life to be incessantly accused not only of failings of which he was quite guiltless, but of those which were the most opposite to his real character. A more purely disinterested and unselfish man perhaps never lived. One who under the constant disturbance of every kind of business and employment, still “walked” more “humbly with his God,” is not often to be found. Yet the cry once raised against him was never hushed; until at length, having rung in his ears through life, as a warning to him, no doubt, even in his brightest moments of success, that he should “cease from man,” it was suddenly put to shame at last and buried with him in his grave.

The circumstances were these: When he arrived in the colony, in the beginning of 1794, it was yet but six years old. The cultivation of land had scarcely begun; it was therefore dependent on supplies of food from home, and was often reduced to the brink of famine. One cask of meat was all that the king’s stores contained when Mr. Marsden first landed on those shores from which the produce of the most magnificent flocks and herds the world has ever pastured was afterwards to be shipped. Governor Phillip, as we have seen, had laid the foundation of the colony amid scenes of difficulty and trial which it is fearful to contemplate. In September, 1795, Captain Hunter arrived, and following in the steps of his predecessor, exerted himself in clearing land and bringing it under cultivation. To effect this he made a grant to every officer, civil and military, of one hundred acres, and allowed each thirteen convicts as servants to assist in bringing it into order. Mr. Marsden availed himself of the grant, and his farm soon exhibited those marks of superior management which might have been looked for by all who were acquainted with the energy of his character and his love of rural pursuits. Where land was to be had on such easy terms, it was not to be desired or expected that he should be limited to the original grant. He soon possessed an estate of several hundred acres—the model farm of New South Wales;—and, let it not be forgotten, the source from whence those supplies were drawn which fed the infant missions of the Southern Seas, while at the same time they helped their generous owner to support many a benevolent institution in his own parish and neighbourhood. Years afterwards he was induced to print a pamphlet in justification of his conduct in this as well as other particulars on which it was assailed; and as we copy an extract from it, our feeling is one of shame and sorrow that it should ever have been required. He says, “I did not consider myself in the same situation, in a temporal point of view, in this colony as a clergyman in England. My situation at that period would bear no such comparison. A clergyman in England lives in the very bosom of his friends; his comforts and conveniences are all within his reach, and he has nothing to do but to feed his flock. On the contrary, I entered a country which was in a state of nature, and was obliged to plant and sow or starve. It was not from inclination that my colleague and I took the axe, the spade, and the hoe: we could not, from our situation, help ourselves by any other means, and we thought it no disgrace to labour. St. Paul’s own hands ministered to his necessities in a cultivated nation, and our hands ministered to our wants in an uncultivated one. If this be cast upon me as a shame and a reproach, I cheerfully bear it, for the remembrance never gives me any cause of reproach or remorse.” Monsieur Perron, a commander sent out by the French government to search for the unfortunate La Perouse (who had recently perished in an exploratory voyage to the islands of the South Pacific), visited Mr. Marsden’s farm in 1802, and records, with the generous admiration his countrymen have never withheld from English enterprise and industry, his astonishment and delight. “No longer,” he exclaims, “than eight years ago, the whole of this spot was covered with immense and useless forests; what pains, what exertions must have been employed! These roads, these pastures, these fields, these harvests, these orchards, these flocks, the work of eight years!” And his admiration of the scene was not greater than his reverence for its owner, “who,” he adds, “while he thus laboured in his various important avocations was not unmindful of the interests of others. He generously interfered in behalf of the poorer settlers in their distresses, established schools for their children, and often relieved their necessities; and to the unhappy culprits, whom the justice of their offended country had banished from their native soil, he administered alternately exhortation and comfort.”

Indeed, it would be no easy task to enumerate all the schemes of social, moral, and spiritual enterprise upon which Mr. Marsden was now employed, and into all of which he appears to have thrown a force and energy which is generally reserved, even by the zealous philanthropist, for some one favoured project. Thus the state of the female convicts, at a very early period, especially attracted his attention. Their forlorn condition, their frightful immoralities—the almost necessary consequence of the gross neglect which exposed them to temptation, or rather thrust them into sin—pressed heavily upon him, and formed the subject of many solemn remonstrances, first to the authorities abroad, and when these were unheeded, to the government at home. The wrongs of the aborigines, their heathenism, and their savage state, with all its attendant miseries and hopeless prospects in eternity, sank into his heart; and under his care a school arose at Paramatta for their children. The scheme, as we shall explain hereafter, was not successful; but at least it will be admitted “he did well that it was in” his “heart.” He was often consulted by the successive governors on questions of difficulty and importance, and gave his advice with respect, but at the same time with honest courage. Amusing anecdotes are told of some of their interviews. A misunderstanding had occurred between Governor King and himself, which did not, however, prevent the governor from asking his advice. Mr. Marsden was allowed to make his own terms, which were that he should consider Governor King as a private individual, and as such address him. Much to his credit, the governor consented. Mr. Marsden then locked the door, and in plain and forcible terms explained to Captain King the faults, as he conceived, of Governor King’s administration. They separated on the most friendly terms; and if we admire the courage of the chaplain, we must not overlook the self-command and forbearance of the governor. With a dash of eccentricity the affair was honourable to both parties.

Another instance of Mr. Marsden’s ready tact and self-possession may be mentioned. Governor King, who possessed, by virtue of his office, the most absolute power, was not only eccentric but somewhat choleric. On one occasion, when Mr. Marsden was present, a violent dispute arose between the governor and the commissary-general. Mr. Marsden not being at liberty to leave the room, retired to a window, determined not to be a witness of the coming storm. The governor, in his heat, pushed or collared the commissary, who in return, pushed or struck the governor. His excellency, indignant at the insult, called to the chaplain, “Do you see that, sir!” “Indeed, sir,” replied Mr. M., “I see nothing,”—dwelling with jocular emphasis on the word see. Thus good humour was immediately restored, and the grave and even treasonable offence of striking the representative of the sovereign was forgotten. These trifling circumstances are worth relating, not only in illustration of Mr. Marsden’s character, but of the history of the earlier days of the colony.

But graver duties had already devolved upon him. Amongst the unpublished manuscripts of the London Missionary Society, there is one document of singular interest, in connexion with the name of Samuel Marsden. It is a memorandum of seventeen folio pages on the state and prospects of their missions to Tahiti and the islands in the South Seas, dated “Paramatta, 30th January, 1801,” and “read before the committee” in London—such was the slow, uncertain communication fifty years ago with a colony now brought within sixty days’ sail of England—“on the 19th of April, 1802.” Foremost in the literature of another generation will stand those treasures which slumber, for the most part unvalued and undisturbed, on the shelves of our missionary houses. For men will surely one day inquire, with an interest similar to that with which we read of the conversion of Britain in the dim light of Ingulphus and the Saxon Chronicle, or the venerable Bede, how distant islands were first evangelized, and through what sorrows, errors, and reverses, the first missionary fought his way to victory in continents and islands of the southern hemisphere. And of these, the document which now lies before us will be esteemed as inferior to none in calm and practical wisdom, in piety, or in ardent zeal tempered with discretion.

The circumstances which called it forth were these. The Tahitian mission, the first great effort of the London Missionary Society, and indeed the first Protestant mission, with perhaps one exception,[D] to savage tribes, had hitherto disappointed the sanguine expectations of its promoters. We trust we shall not be thought to make a display of that cheap wisdom which consists in blaming the failures of which the causes were not seen until the catastrophe had occurred, if we say that, great and truly magnificent as the project was, it carried within itself the elements of its own humiliation. The faith and zeal of its founders were beyond all human praise; but in the wisdom which results from experience, they were of course deficient. “To attempt great things, and to expect great things,” was their motto; but they did not appreciate the difficulties of the enterprise; nor did they duly estimate the depth of the depravity of the savage heart and mind. Dr. Haweis, a London clergyman of great piety and note in those days, preached before the Society when the first missionary ship, the Duff, was about to sail. He described to his delighted audience the romantic beauty and grandeur of the islands which lie like emeralds upon the calm bosom of the Southern Ocean, and anticipated their immediate conversion as soon as they should hear the first glad tidings of the gospel. The ship sailed from the Tower wharf, with flags flying and banners streaming, as if returning from a triumph, amidst the cheers of the spectators. Amongst the crowd there stood a venerable minister of Christ, leaning upon the arm of one who still survives—himself a veteran in the service of his Lord. As they turned slowly away from the exciting scene, the aged minister mournfully exclaimed, “I am afraid it will not succeed: there is too much of man in it.” His words were prophetic; for nearly twenty years no success followed, but one sweeping tide of disappointment and disaster;[E] till, at length, when, humbled and dejected, about the year 1814, the missionaries, as well as the Society at home, in despair had almost resolved to abandon the station, the work of God appeared in the conversion of the king of Tahiti; and with a rapidity to be compared only to the long, cheerless, period in which they had “laboured in vain, and spent their strength for nought,” the missionaries beheld not only Tahiti, but the adjacent islands transformed into Christian lands.

It was in the midst of these disasters that Mr. Marsden was consulted, and wrote the memorandum to which we have referred. If in some places he seems to lay too great stress upon what may appear to the reader prudential considerations of inferior importance, let us remind him that on these very points the missionaries had betrayed their weakness. Their own quarrels and even the gross misconduct of some few amongst them, were not less painful to the church at home than their want of success.

We make a few extracts:

“... The first and principal object for the consideration of the directors is to select men properly qualified for the mission; unless persons equal to the task are sent out nothing can be done. It may be asked, who are proper persons, and what are the requisite qualifications? To the question I would reply in general terms. A missionary should be a man of real sound piety, and well acquainted with the depravity of the human heart, as well as experimental religion; he should not be a novice; he should not only be a good man in the strictest sense of the word, but also well informed, not taken from the dregs of the common people, but possessed of some education, and liberal sentiments. He should rather be of a lively active turn of mind than gloomy and heavy. A gloomy ignorant clown will be disgusting even to savages, and excite their contempt. The more easy and affable a missionary is in his address, the more easily will he obtain the confidence and good opinion of the heathen.

“In my opinion a man of a melancholy habit is altogether unqualified for a missionary; he will never be able to sustain the hardships attending his situation, nay, he will magnify his dangers and difficulties and make them greater than what in reality they may be. A missionary, were I to define his character, should be a pious good man, should be well acquainted with mankind, should possess some education, should be easy in address, and of an active turn. Some of the missionaries who have come to this colony, are the opposite character to the above. They are totally ignorant of mankind, they possess no education, they are clowns in their manners. If the directors are determined to establish a mission in these Islands there is another object to be attended to; they must send out a sufficient body and furnish them with the means of self-defence. Unless the missionaries are able to protect themselves from the violence of the natives, they will be in constant danger of being cut off by them. Their lives, if unprotected by their own strength, will hang sometimes perhaps upon the fate of a single battle between two contending chiefs. Can any idea be more distressing than for the lives of a few defenceless missionaries to depend upon the sudden whim or turn of an enraged savage, without the means of self-defence? See them driven, in order to escape the savage fury of the natives, into holes and caverns of the rocks, suffering every hardship that nature can bear from hunger, toil, and anxiety, without so much as the prospect of relief in time of danger from Europe, or accomplishing in the smallest degree the object of the mission. Yet this must and will be the case, unless the missionaries are furnished with the means of self-defence, and are able to convince the natives of their superiority in point of skill and protection.”

Many will condemn this counsel. Nor do we feel bound to justify it to the letter. A reasonable degree of caution in avoiding danger, and under great emergency in preparing measures for self-defence, may be allowed even to the missionary. Yet experience shows that his safety chiefly lies in cultivating and exhibiting the spirit of Him who “suffered the just for the unjust,” and “when led as a lamb to the slaughter, yet opened not his mouth.”

Various prudential hints follow, on marriage and other delicate subjects. The reader will smile to learn that fifty years ago it was a question at missionary boards whether married men were not disqualified for missionary work. It was argued that their wives would be exposed to ill-usage from the natives, and that they themselves would be diverted by the anxieties or the comforts of home from their proper calling. Mr. Marsden combats both of these objections. “It appears to me that a married woman, coming along with her husband in the mission, would have no extraordinary dangers to apprehend from the natives, and would, if a prudent woman, prove the greatest comfort and protection to her husband, sweeten his toils and sustain his burdens.” Beyond this even Mr. Marsden’s views did not yet extend. The time had not yet come when experience should drive the friends of missions, in the failure of many a plausible theory, to fall back simply on the New Testament, not merely for their principles, for this they did, but for the best and safest precedents in missionary work. They forgot how large a share of the honours of the primitive church in its labours for Christ belong to the weaker sex. That a missionary’s wife might be no less, nay in some instances far more, successful than her husband was a thought not yet entertained in missionary counsels. They did not foresee that the instruction of the native woman, and the Christian education of the heathen child, would soon become the special province of the missionary’s wife. Mrs. Wilson had not yet arisen “a mother in Israel,” nor Mrs. Judson, nor others whose fame is only less in missionary annals, because their work has been carried on in places less interesting, or at least less open to the world’s gaze, than Calcutta and Burmah. Nor can we give more than a hesitating and partial consent to some of the following observations:

“Civilization must pave the way for the conversion of the heathen. As the natives in these islands are totally unconnected with the commercial world, however friendly disposed they may be towards strangers, they are, nevertheless, in a state of gross ignorance and barbarity. They must, from their social situation, their great distance from the civilized part of the world, be less prepared to receive the gospel than the Esquimaux on the coast of Labrador or the negroes in the West Indian Islands, and other parts of the heathen world where the Moravians in general send their missionaries. The heathens in these islands are, in the strictest sense, in a state of nature. Hence it becomes the indispensable duty of the missionaries to use every means for their civilization, and not to imagine they are already prepared to receive the blessings of Divine revelation.”

True, they were not prepared. But here we are at variance alike with Dr. Haweis on the one hand, and Mr. Marsden on the other. “The preparation of the heart,” the wise man tells us, “is from the Lord;” and this is a kind of preparation which civilization will not supply. It is easy, as we have said, to find fault with men who, whatever their mistakes, deserve the veneration of the church. Let it be borne in mind that of savage life, its horrors, its ferocity, its cannibalism, England then knew but little. Had they been favoured with the experience we now possess, they would have felt more deeply how impotent a weapon is civilization to hew down the strongholds of Satan in a heathen land; their failures perhaps would have been fewer, and their successes more speedy if not more complete. A true Christian missionary, amongst savages, must be of necessity a civilizer. His own pure and quiet homestead, adorned with the arts of life, his cultivated garden, his neatly fenced paddock, the corn-field which soon follows, and then the mill—all these, and, we may say, all the habits and circumstances of his life, directly tend to civilize; and thus the process of outward reformation goes on amongst the surrounding tribes, while the spiritual seed is being sown in the native heart. And it will sometimes happen that native tribes are civilized before they are converted, simply because the carnal mind rejects the spiritual lesson, while selfishness, or the mere love of imitation, (equally powerful in the breast of children and of savages) induces them readily to adopt European habits. But after all we question whether the native heathen thus outwardly changed is one whit more likely to embrace the gospel than before.

There is, however, much truth in the following remarks; they show a thoughtful mind, and they prove too, if we are not mistaken, that the gospel of Jesus Christ has lost nothing of its pristine force after the lapse of eighteen centuries; for the Christian missions of our own day have triumphed amidst some difficulties against which even the apostles had not to contend. “The conduct of the apostles cannot exactly apply as a guide to the missionaries in these islands; St. Paul was sent to preach a crucified Jesus, not to savage, but to civilized heathens; to Greece and Rome, to nations noted for their politeness of manners and human learning, the inhabitants both of Greece and Rome had obtained the highest degree of civilization, they were”—intellectually, of course, Mr. Marsden must be understood to mean—“prepared for the reception of the gospel; their philosophers had for ages been making diligent inquiries after the true God; they had erected altars and the most magnificent temples for the worship of some superior being whom they knew not. This is not the case with the natives of these islands.... It is unnecessary for me to contrast the situations of the primitive apostles and the present missionaries, and to point out their vast difference. Sacred and profane history will furnish the missionaries with this information, provided they will study their records.”

Mr. Marsden continued to be through life the confidential adviser of the London Missionary Society, and the warm friend and, as they passed to and fro upon their voyages, the kind host of their missionaries.

His character was now established. The colony was rapidly increasing in importance; and yet no change had been made in its government, which was still committed to the absolute direction of a single mind, that of the colonial governor. He too was a military officer, and not always one of high position and large capacity, or even of the purest morals; for by such men the governorship of his Majesty’s territory in New South Wales would have then been disdained. Mr. Marsden had done much, but much more remained to be accomplished. There were mischiefs that lay far beyond his reach, and spurned control. On the first establishment of the colony all the military officers were forbidden to take their wives with them—the governor and chaplains were the only exceptions—and there is one instance of a lady whose love to her husband led her to steal across the ocean in the disguise of a sailor, who was actually sent home again by Governor Phillip without being permitted to land. Our readers may anticipate the consequences which followed in an almost universal licentiousness. The most abandoned females often appeared fearlessly before the magistrates, well knowing that they would have impunity even for the greatest crimes; and male offenders used their influence to obtain a judgment in their favour. Expostulation, remonstrance, and entreaty Mr. Marsden had tried in vain. “Of all existing spots in New South Wales the court of judicature at Sydney,” it was publicly affirmed, “was the most iniquitous and abandoned;” and at length a rebellious spirit broke out, and the authority of the governor, even in his military capacity, was at an end. The efforts of the faithful chaplain were now thwarted at the fountain head, and his life was not unfrequently in danger. Mr. Marsden’s sagacity fastened the conviction on his mind that a crisis was at hand, which could only be averted by the interference of the government at home. He therefore asked for, and obtained, permission to revisit England. His fears were just; he had already assisted in quelling one rebellion, and another of a more serious nature broke out soon after he embarked, which drove the governor from the colony, and ended in his recall, and the establishment of a new order of things. The spiritual fruit of Mr. Marsden’s labours had not yet been great, but already the foundations had been laid for extensive usefulness. On the eve of his departure, he was presented with a gratifying address, bearing the signatures of three hundred and two persons, “the holders of landed estates, public offices, and other principal inhabitants of the large and extensive settlements of Hawkesbury, Nepean, and Portland-Head, and adjacent parts of New South Wales,” conveying “their grateful thanks for his pious, humane, and exemplary conduct throughout this whole colony, in the various and arduous situations held by him as a minister of the gospel, superintendent magistrate, inspector of public, orphan, and charity schools, and in other offices.” They thank him too for “his attention and cares in the improvement of stock, agriculture, and in all other beneficial and useful arts, for the general good of the colony, and for his unremitting exertions for its prosperity,” and conclude thus:—“Your sanctity, philanthropy, and disinterestedness of character, will ever remain an example to future ministers; and that God, whom we serve, may pour down his blessings upon you and yours to the latest posterity, is the sincere prayer of those who sign this address.”

FOOTNOTES:

[C] Lord Brougham.

[D] That of the Moravians to Labrador. The Wesleyans had a mission in the West Indies, and the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel had long had the care of the Danish missions at Malabar. But none of these were missions, in the strict sense, among savages.

[E] This anecdote we relate on the authority of the younger minister, from whom we received it. The elder one was the Rev. Samuel Bradburn, the friend and associate of Wesley.—Editor.

CHAPTER IV.

Various measures devised for the benefit of New South Wales—The establishment of Missions in New Zealand—Friendship with Dr. Mason Good.

Mr. Marsden returned home in His Majesty’s ship Buffalo, after an absence of fourteen years. On the voyage he had one of those hair-breadth deliverances in which devout Christians recognise the hand of God. The Buffalo was leaky when she sailed, and a heavy gale threatening, it was proposed that the passengers should quit the ship and take refuge in a stauncher vessel which formed one of the fleet. Mr. Marsden objected, Mrs. Marsden being unwilling to leave Mrs. King, the wife of Governor King, who was returning in the same vessel, and who was at the time an invalid. In the night, the expected storm came on. In the morning, the eyes of all on board the crazy Buffalo were strained in vain to discover their companion. She was never heard of more, and no doubt had foundered in the hurricane.

On his arrival in London he waited on the under secretary of state to report his return, and learned from him that his worst fears had been realized, and that the colony was already in a state of open insurrection, headed by the “New South Wales Corps,” who were leagued with several of the wealthier traders. The insurrection was, however, suppressed, and Lieut.-colonel Macquarie was sent out with his regiment to assume the government. Lord Castlereagh, the colonial minister, was quick to perceive the value of such an adviser on the affairs of Australia as Mr. Marsden, and encouraged him to lay before the government a full statement of his views. Seldom has it happened to a private individual to be charged with weightier or more various affairs, never perhaps with schemes involving more magnificent results. As the obscure chaplain from Botany Bay paced the Strand, from the colonial office at Whitehall to the chambers in the city where a few pious men were laying plans for Christian missions in the southern hemisphere, he was in fact charged with projects upon which not only the civilization, but the eternal welfare, of future nations were suspended. Nor was he unconscious of the greatness of the task. With a total absence of romance or enthusiasm—for his mind was wanting in the imaginative faculty on which enthusiasm feeds—he was yet fully alive to the possible consequences of his visit to his native shores, and intensely interested in his work. He aimed at nothing less than to see Australia a great country; and, with a yet firmer faith, he expected the conversion of the cannibal tribes of New Zealand and the Society Islands; and this at a time when even statesmen had only learned to think of New South Wales as a national prison, and when the conversion of New Zealanders was regarded as a hopeless task, even by the majority of Christian men, and treated by the world with indifference or scorn. In fact, during this short visit he may be said to have planned, perhaps unconsciously, the labours of his whole life, and to have laid the foundation for all the good of which he was to be the instrument.

Let us first turn to the efforts he made for the settlements in New South Wales. The improvement of the convict population was his primary object, and his more immediate duty. He had observed that by far the greater number of reformed criminals consisted of those who had intermarried, or whose wives had been able to purchase their passage over, and he suggested that those of the convicts’ wives who chose to do so should be permitted to accompany their husbands even at the public expense. This was refused, and it was almost the only point upon which his representations failed; but, as a compromise, the wives of the officers and soldiers were permitted to accompany their husbands, and not less than three hundred immediately went with a single regiment. To encourage honesty and industry he recommended not only remission of the sentence to the well conducted convict, but a grant of land to a certain extent; with which the government complied. But he had no weak and foolish sympathy with crime, and long after the period at which we are now writing, he continued to incur the hatred of a certain class by protesting, as he never ceased to do, against the monstrous impropriety of placing men, however wealthy, who had themselves been convicts, on the magisterial bench. Amongst the convicts he had observed that the greater number were acquainted with some branch of mechanics or manufactures; at present, they were unemployed, or occupied in labour for which they were unfit, and which was therefore irksome to themselves and of no advantage to the colony. He therefore suggested that one or two practical mechanics with small salaries, and one or two general manufacturers, should be sent out to instruct the convicts. But here a serious obstacle presented itself; for this was the age of commercial prohibitions, and it was objected that the manufacturers of the mother country would be injured by such a step. Mr. Marsden met the objection at once. If the government would but accede to the proposal, “he would undertake that the enormous expense at which the country was for clothing the convicts should entirely cease within a certain period.” The wool of the government flocks and the flesh of the wild cattle was already sufficient to provide both food and raiment for the convicts without any expense to the parent state, and all he prayed for was, the opportunity of turning those advantages to the best account. These requests were granted, and on the same night, and at his own cost, he set off by the mail for Warwickshire and Yorkshire in search of four artisans and manufacturers, who were soon upon their way to the scene of their future operations.

The vast importance of Australia as the source on which the English manufacturer must at some future day depend for his supplies of wool, had already occupied his thoughts. He found that within three years his own stock without any care on his part, (for his farm was entirely managed in his absence by a trusty bailiff who had been a convict,) had upon an average been doubled in number and value. With the energy which was natural to him, he carried some of his own wool to Leeds, where he had it manufactured, and he had the satisfaction to learn that it was considered equal, if not superior, to that of Saxony or France. His private letters abound with intimations that ere long Australia must become the great wool-producing country to which the English manufacturer would look. He was introduced to king George the Third, and took the liberty, through Sir Joseph Banks, of praying for a couple of Merino sheep, His Majesty’s property, to improve the breed; and his last letter from England, dated from the Cowes Roads, mentions their reception on board. We anticipate a little, but must quote the letter, were it only to let the reader see how possible it is to be at once diligent in business and fervent in spirit. “We are this moment getting under weigh, and soon expect to be upon the ocean. I have received a present of five Spanish sheep from the king’s flock, which are all on board; if I am so fortunate as to get them out they will be a most valuable acquisition to the colony. I leave England with much satisfaction, having obtained so fully the object of my mission. It is the good hand of our God that hath done these things for us. I have the prospect of getting another pious minister. I am writing to him on the subject this morning, and I hope he will soon follow us.... On Sunday I stood on the long boat and preached from Ezekiel xviii. 27: ‘When the wicked man turneth away,’ etc. It was a solemn time, many of the convicts were affected. We sang the Hundredth Psalm in the midst of a large fleet. The number of souls on board is more than four hundred. God may be gracious to some of them; though exiled from their country and friends, they may cry unto him in a foreign land, when they come like the Jews of old to hang their harps upon the willows, and weep when they remember Zion, or rather when they remember England.”[F]

The spiritual wants of the colony were not forgotten. He induced the government to send out three additional clergymen and three schoolmasters; and happily the selection was intrusted to his own judgment. A disciple in the school of Venn and Milner, he knew that the ordinances of the church, though administered by a moral and virtuous man, or by a zealous philanthropist, were not enough. He sought for men who were “renewed in the spirit of their minds;” who uttered no mere words of course when they said at their ordination that they “believed themselves moved thereto by the Holy Ghost.” But here again his task was difficult; clergymen of such a stamp were but few; the spirit of missionary enterprise was almost unfelt; and, to say the truth, there was a missionary field at home, dark and barbarous, and far too wide for the few such labourers of this class whom the Lord had yet “sent forth into his harvest.” Mr. Marsden, however, nothing daunted, went from parish to parish till he met with two admirable men, the Rev. Mr. Cowper and the Rev. Robert Cartwright, who, with their families, accompanied him on his return. His choice was eminently successful. In a short account of Mr. Marsden, published in Australia in 1844, they are spoken of as still living, pious and exemplary clergymen, the fathers of families occupying some of the most important posts in the colony, and, “notwithstanding their advancing years and increasing infirmities,” it is added, “there are few young men in the colony so zealous in preaching the gospel, and in promoting the interests of the church of England.” The schoolmasters too, we believe, did honour to his choice. He had already established two public free-schools for children of both sexes, and he was now able to impart the elements of a pious education, and to train them in habits of industry and virtue. Into all these plans the archbishop of Canterbury cordially entered, and wisely and liberally left it to the able founder to select his agents and associates.

Mr. Marsden likewise urged upon the home administration the necessity of a female Penitentiary; and obtained a promise that a building should be provided. That he was deeply alive to the importance of an institution of this kind, is manifest in his own description of the state of the female prisoners in the earlier years of the colony, and the deplorable picture he draws of their immorality and wretchedness. “When I returned to England in 1807,” he says, “there were upwards of fourteen hundred women in the colony; more than one thousand were unmarried, and nearly all convicts: many of them were exposed to the most dangerous temptations, privations and sufferings; and no suitable asylum had been provided for the female convicts since the establishment of the colony. On my arrival in London in 1808, I drew up two memorials on their behalf, stating how much they suffered from want of a proper barrack—a building for their reception. One of these memorials I presented to the under secretary of state, and the other to his grace the archbishop of Canterbury. They both expressed their readiness to promote the object.” Years, however, passed before the consent of the colonial governor could be gained; and Mr. Marsden’s benevolent exertions on behalf of these outcast women were for some time frustrated.

The variety of his engagements at this time was equal to their importance. He had returned home charged with an almost infinite multiplicity of business. He was the agent of almost every poor person in the colony who had, or thought he had, important business at home. Penny-postages lay in the same dim future with electric telegraphs and steam-frigates, and he was often burdened with letters from Ireland and other remote parts (so wrote a friend, who published at the time a sketch of his proceedings in the “Eclectic Review,”) the postage of which, for a single day, has amounted to a guinea; which he cheerfully paid, from the feeling that, although many of these letters were of no use whatever, they were written with a good intention, and under a belief that they were of real value. He had already been saluted, like the Roman generals of old, with the title of common father of his adopted country; and one of his last acts before he quitted England, was to procure, by public contributions and donations of books, “what he called a lending library” (so writes the reviewer,[G] and the expression seems to have amused him from its novelty), “consisting of books on religion, morals, mechanics, agriculture, and general history, to be lent out under his own control and that of his colleagues, to soldiers, free settlers, convicts, and others who had time to read.” In this, too, he succeeded, and took over with him a library of the value of between three and four hundred pounds.

It was during this two-years’-visit to his native land, that Mr. Marsden laid the foundation of the Church of England mission to New Zealand. In its consequences, civil and religious, this has already proved one of the most extraordinary and most successful of those achievements, which are the glory of the churches in these later times. This was the great enterprise of his life: he is known already, and will be remembered while the church on earth endures, as the apostle of New Zealand. Not that we claim for him the exclusive honour of being the only one although we believe he was, in point of time, the first who began, about this period, to project a mission to New Zealand. The Wesleyans were early in the same field. The Rev. Samuel Leigh, a man whose history and natural character bore a marked resemblance to those of Mr. Marsden, was the pioneer of Methodism, and proved himself a worthy herald of the cross amongst the New Zealanders. A warm friendship existed between the two. On his passage homewards he was a guest at Paramatta; and no tinge of jealousy ever appears to have shaded their intercourse, each rejoicing in the triumphs of the other. Still, Mr. Marsden’s position afforded him peculiar facilities, and having once undertaken it, the superintendence of the New Zealand mission became, without design on his part, the great business of his life.

He had formed a high, we do not think an exaggerated, estimate of the Maori or New Zealand tribes. “They are a noble race,” he writes to his friend John Terry, Esq., of Hull, “vastly superior in understanding to anything you can imagine in a savage nation.” This was before the mission was begun. But he did not speak merely from hearsay: several of their chieftains and enterprising warriors had visited Australia, and they ever found a welcome at the hospitable parsonage at Paramatta. Sometimes, it is true, they were but awkward guests, as the following anecdote will show; which we present to the reader, as it has been kindly furnished to us, in the words of one of Mr. Marsden’s daughters. “My father had sometimes as many as thirty New Zealanders staying at the parsonage. He possessed extraordinary influence over them. On one occasion, a young lad, the nephew of a chief, died, and his uncle immediately made preparations to sacrifice a slave to attend his spirit into the other world. Mr. M. was from home at the moment, and his family were only able to preserve the life of the young New Zealander by hiding him in one of the rooms. Mr. M. no sooner returned and reasoned with the chief, than he consented to spare his life. No further attempt was made upon it, though the uncle frequently deplored that his nephew had no attendant in the next world, and seemed afraid to return to New Zealand, lest the father of the young man should reproach him for having given up this, to them, important point.”

The Church Missionary Society, which had now been established about seven years, seemed fully disposed to co-operate with him; and at their request he drew up a memorial on the subject of a New Zealand mission, not less important than that we have already mentioned, to the London Missionary Society, on the subject of their Polynesian missions. He still lays great stress upon the necessity of civilization going first as the pioneer of the gospel; “commerce and the arts having a natural tendency to inculcate industrious and moral habits, open a way for the introduction of the gospel, and lay the foundation for its continuance when once received” “... Nothing, in my opinion, can pave the way for the introduction of the gospel but civilization.” ... “The missionaries,” he thought, “might employ a certain portion of their time in manual labour, and that this neither would nor ought to prevent them from constantly endeavouring to instruct the natives in the great doctrines of the gospel.” ... “The arts and religion should go together. I do not mean a native should learn to build a hut or make an axe before he should be told anything of man’s fall and redemption, but that these grand subjects should be introduced at every favourable opportunity, while the natives are learning any of the simple arts.” He adds that “four qualifications are absolutely necessary for a missionary—piety, industry, prudence, and patience. Without sound piety, nothing can be expected. A man must feel a lively interest in the eternal welfare of the heathen to spur him on to the discharge of his duty.” On the three other qualifications, he enlarges with great wisdom and practical good sense; but the paper has been frequently printed, and we must not transfer it to these pages.

It is no dishonour done to Mr. Marsden if we say that, in mature spiritual wisdom, the venerable men who had founded the Church Missionary Society, and still managed its affairs, were at this time his superiors. Strange indeed it would have been had the case been otherwise. They listened gratefully and with deep respect to the opinion of one so well entitled to advise; they determined on the mission, and they gave a high proof of their confidence, both in the practical wisdom and sterling piety of their friend, in consulting him in the choice of their first agents. But they did not adopt his views with regard to the importance of civilization as the necessary pioneer to the gospel. So long ago as the year 1815, they thought it necessary to publish a statement of the principles upon which their mission was established. “It has been stated,” they say, “that the mission was originally established, and for a long time systematically conducted, on the principle of first civilizing and then christianizing the natives. This is wholly a mistake. The agents employed in establishing the mission were laymen, because clergymen could not be had; and the instructions given to them necessarily correspond with their lay character. The foremost object of the mission has, from the first, been to bring the natives, by the use of all suitable means, under the saving influences of the grace of the gospel, adding indeed the communication to them of such useful arts and knowledge as might improve their social condition.” The committee’s instructions to their first agents in the mission abundantly sustain these assertions. Mr. William Hall and Mr. John King were the two single-hearted laymen to whom, in the providence of God, the distinguished honour was committed of first making known the gospel in New Zealand. They bore with them these instructions, ere they embarked in the same vessel in which their friend and guide Mr. Marsden himself returned to Australia:—“Ever bear in mind that the only object of the Society, in sending you to New Zealand, is to introduce the knowledge of Christ among the natives, and in order to this, the arts of civilized life.”

Then after directing Messrs. Hall and King “to respect the sabbath day,” to “establish family worship,” at any favourable opportunity to “converse with the natives on the great subject of religion,” and to “instruct their children in the knowledge of Christianity,” the instructions add—“Thus in your religious conduct you must observe the sabbath and keep it holy, attend regularly to family worship, talk to the natives about religion when you walk by the way, when you labour in the field, and on all occasions when you can gain their attention, and lay yourselves out for the education of the young.”

Mr. Thomas Kendall followed; a third layman, for no ordained clergyman of the church of England could yet be found. The same instructions were repeated, and in December, 1815, when the Rev. John Butler, their first clerical missionary, entered on his labours in New Zealand, he and his companions were exhorted thus—“The committee would observe that they wish, in all the missions of the Society, that the missionaries should give their time as much as possible, and wholly if practicable, first to the acquisition of the native language, and then to the constant and faithful preaching to the natives.” It is subsequently added—“Do not mistake civilization for conversion. Do not imagine when heathens are raised in intellect, in the knowledge of the arts and outward decencies, above their fellow-countrymen, that they are Christians, and therefore rest content as if your proper work were accomplished. Our great aim is far higher; it is to make them children of God and heirs of his glory. Let this be your desire, and prayer, and labour among them. And while you rejoice in communicating every other good, think little or nothing done till you see those who were dead in trespasses and sins, quickened together with Christ.” These passages fully exhibit the views of the committee of this evangelical Society with regard, not only to the New Zealand, but to all their other missions. Nor do they stand alone; every missionary association, taught in many instances by bitter disappointment, has long since discovered that the arts and sciences do not prepare the way of the Lord amongst the heathen abroad; just as they leave unsanctified our civilized heathendom at home.

But we must return from our digression, which its great importance must excuse.

Before he left England, Mr. Marsden formed or renewed an acquaintance with many great and good men, Mr. Wilberforce, Sir George Grey, the Rev. Daniel Wilson, late Bishop of Calcutta, the Rev. Charles Simeon, the Rev. Josiah Pratt, Dr. Olinthus Gregory, and others whose names are dear to the church of Christ. But we must particularly notice the friendship which he formed with Dr. Mason Good as productive of the highest blessings to his friend, and of much advantage to himself.

The life of this excellent and accomplished person was published by Dr. Olinthus Gregory, soon after his death, in 1828. He tells us that Dr. Mason Good, when he became acquainted with Mr. Marsden, had long professed Socinian principles, but of these had recently begun to doubt, while he had not yet embraced the gospel of Christ so as to derive either comfort or strength from it. He was anxious and inquiring; his father had been an orthodox dissenting minister, and he himself a constant student and indeed a critical expositor of the Bible. He had published a translation of the book of Job, with notes, and also a translation of Solomon’s Song of Songs. He saw in the latter a sublime and mystic allegory, and in the former a poem, than which nothing can be purer in its morality, nothing sublimer in its philosophy, nothing more majestic in its creed. He had given beautiful translations of many of the Psalms; but with all this he had not yet perceived that Christ is the great theme of the Old Testament, nor did he understand the salvation of which “David in the Psalms, and all the prophets,” as well as Job the patriarch “did speak.” His introduction to Mr. Marsden, in such a state of mind, was surely providential. He saw, and wondered at, his self-denial; he admired the true sublimity of his humble, unassuming, but unquestionable and active piety. “The first time I saw Mr. Marsden,” says his biographer, “was in January, 1808; he had just returned from Hull, and had travelled nearly the whole journey on the outside of a coach in a heavy fall of snow, being unable to secure an inside place. He seemed scarcely conscious of the inclemency of the season, and declared that he felt no inconvenience from the journey. He had accomplished his object, and that was enough. And what was that object, which could raise him above the exhaustion of fatigue and the sense of severe cold? He had engaged a rope-maker who was willing, at his (Mr. Marsden’s) own expense, to go and teach his art to the New Zealanders.” So writes Dr. Olinthus Gregory.

As a philosopher who loved to trace phenomena to their causes, Dr. Mason Good endeavoured to ascertain the principles from which these unremitting exertions sprang; and, as he often assured his friend, Dr. Gregory, he could trace them only to the elevating influence of Divine grace. He could find no other clue; and he often repeated the wish that his own motives were as pure, and his own conduct as exemplary as those of Mr. Marsden. Thus light broke in, and at length he received the gospel “as a little child,” and began to adorn it by his conduct. For several years he was an efficient member of the committee of the Bible Society, and of that of the Church Missionary Society. To the latter especially he devoted himself with the utmost activity and ardour, and at his death, which occurred in 1827, the committee transmitted to Mrs. Good a resolution expressive of the very high value they set on his services, and of the heavy loss they were conscious they sustained by that event. The resolution was accompanied by a letter of cordial sympathy from the pen of the Rev. Edward Bickersteth, the secretary. When dying he was, heard, without any suggestion or leading remark from those around him, to repeat with quivering lips the text, “All the promises of God in him (Christ Jesus) are Yea, and in him Amen.” “What words,” said he, “for a dying man to rest upon!”[H]

FOOTNOTES:

[F] To Avison Terry, Esq., Hull.

[G] Eclectic Review, vol. v. pp. 988-995.

[H] See Life of Dr. Mason Good, by Dr. Olinthus Gregory.

CHAPTER V.

Return to the Colony—Duaterra—His strange adventures—Mr. Marsden’s Labours in New South Wales—Aborigines—Their Habits—Plans for their Civilization.

Mr. Marsden took what proved to be his last leave of his native land in August 1809. Resolute as he was, and nerved for danger, a shade of depression passed across him. “The ship, I understand,” he writes to Mrs. Mason Good, “is nearly ready. This land in which we live is polluted, and cannot, on account of sin, give rest to any of its inhabitants. Those who have (sought) and still do seek their happiness in anything it can give, will meet nothing but disappointment, vexation, and sorrow. If we have only a common share of human happiness, we cannot have or hope for more.” A few weeks afterwards he addresses the same Christian lady thus:—

“Cambridge, August 1, 1809.

“Yesterday I assisted my much esteemed friend, Mr. Simeon, but here I shall have no continuing city. The signal will soon be given, the anchor weighed, and the sails spread, and the ship compelled to enter the mighty ocean to seek for distant lands. I was determined to take another peep at Cambridge, though conscious I could but enjoy those beautiful scenes for a moment. In a few days we shall set off for Portsmouth. All this turning and wheeling about from place, to place, and from nation to nation, I trust is our right way to the heavenly Canaan. I am happy in the conclusion, to inform you that I have got all my business settled in London much to my satisfaction, both with government and in other respects. The object of my mission has been answered, far beyond my expectations. I believe that God has gracious designs towards New South Wales, and that his gospel will take root there, and spread amongst the heathen nations to the glory of his grace.

“I have the honour to be, dear madam,
“Yours, in every Christian bond,
“Samuel Marsden.”

His prayers and devout aspirations for New Zealand had been heard on high, and “the way of the Lord” was “preparing” in a manner far beyond his expectations, ardent as they seem. The ship Ann, in which he sailed, by order of the government, for New South Wales, carried with her one whom Providence had raised up to act a part, only less important than his own, in the conversion of that benighted land.

The ship had been some time at sea before Mr. Marsden observed on the forecastle, amongst the common sailors, a man whose darker skin and wretched appearance awakened his sympathy. He was wrapped in an old great coat, very sick and weak, had a violent cough, accompanied with profuse bleeding. He was much dejected, and appeared as though a few days would close his life. This was Duaterra, a New Zealand chieftain, whose story, as related by Mr. Marsden himself, is almost too strange for fiction. And as “this young chief became,” as he tells us, “one of the principal instruments in preparing the way for the introduction of the arts of civilization and the knowledge of Christianity into his native country,” a brief sketch of his marvellous adventures will not be out of place.

When the existence of New Zealand was yet scarcely known to Europeans, it was occasionally visited by a South Sea whaler distressed for provisions, or in want of water. One of these, the Argo, put into the Bay of Islands in 1805, and Duaterra, fired with the spirit of adventure, embarked on board with two of his companions. The Argo remained on the New Zealand coast for above five months, and then sailed for Port Jackson, the modern Sydney of Australia, Duaterra sailing with her. She then went to fish on the coast of New Holland for six months, again returning to Port Jackson. Duaterra had been six months on board, working in general as a common sailor, and passionately fond of this roving life. He then experienced that unkindness and foul play of which the New Zealander has always had sad reason to complain. He was left on shore without a friend and without the slightest remuneration.

He now shipped himself on board the Albion whaler, Captain Richardson, whose name deserves honourable mention; he behaved very kindly to Duaterra, repaid him for his services in various European articles, and after six months cruising on the fisheries, put him on shore in the Bay of Islands, where his tribe dwelt. Here he remained six months, when the Santa Anna anchored in the bay, on her way to Norfolk Island and other islets of the South Sea in quest of seal skins. The restless Duaterra again embarked; he was put on shore on Norfolk Island at the head of a party of fourteen sailors, provided with a very scanty supply of water, bread, and salt provisions, to kill seals, while the ship sailed, intending to be absent but a short time, to procure potatoes and pork in New Zealand. On her return she was blown off the coast in a storm, and did not make the land for a month. The sealing party were now in the greatest distress, and accustomed as he was to hardship, Duaterra often spoke of the extreme suffering which he and his party had endured, while, for upwards of three months, they existed on a desert island with no other food than seals and sea fowls, and no water except when a shower of rain happened to fall. Three of his companions, two Europeans and one Tahitian, died under these distresses.

At length the Santa Anna returned, having procured a valuable cargo of seal skins, and prepared to take her departure homewards. Duaterra had now an opportunity of gratifying an ardent desire he had for some time entertained of visiting that remote country from which so many vast ships were sent, and to see with his own eyes the great chief of so wonderful a people. He willingly risked the voyage, as a common sailor, to visit England and see king George. The Santa Anna arrived in the river Thames about July 1809, and Duaterra now requested that the captain would make good his promise, and indulge him with at least a sight of the king. Again he had a sad proof of the perfidiousness of Europeans. Sometimes he was told that no one was allowed to see king George; sometimes that his house could not be found. This distressed him exceedingly; he saw little of London, was ill-used, and seldom permitted to go on shore. In about fifteen days, the vessel had discharged her cargo, when the captain told him that he should put him on board the Ann, which had been taken up by government to convey convicts to New South Wales. The Ann had already dropped down to Gravesend, and Duaterra asked the master of the Santa Anna for some wages and clothing. He refused to give him any, telling him that the owners at Port Jackson would pay him in two muskets for his services on his arrival there; but even these he never received.

Mr. Marsden was at this time in London, quite ignorant of the fact that the son of a New Zealand chief, in circumstances so pitiable, lay on board a South Sea whaler near London bridge. Their first meeting was on board the Ann, as we have stated, when she had been some days at sea. His sympathies were at once roused, and his indignation too; for it was always ill for the oppressor when he fell within the power of his stern rebuke. “I inquired,” he says, “of the master where he met with him, and also of Duaterra what had brought him to England, and how he came to be so wretched and miserable. He told me that the hardships and wrongs which he had endured on board the Santa Anna were exceedingly great, and that the English sailors had beaten him very much, which was the cause of his spitting blood, and that the master had defrauded him of all his wages, and prevented his seeing the king. I should have been very happy, if there had been time, to call the master of the Santa Anna to account for his conduct, but it was too late. I endeavoured to soothe his afflictions, and assured him that he should be protected from insults, and that his wants should be supplied.”

By the kindness of those on board, Duaterra recovered, and was ever after truly grateful for the attention shown him. On their arrival at Sydney, Mr. Marsden took him into his house for six months, during which time he applied himself to agriculture; he then wished to return home, and embarked for New Zealand; but further perils and adventures were in prospect, and we shall have occasion to advert to them hereafter. For the present we leave him on his voyage to his island home.

The Ann touched on her passage out at Rio Janeiro, and Mr. Marsden spent a short time on shore, where his active mind, already, one would suppose, burthened with cares and projects, discovered a new field of labour. The ignorance and superstition of a popish city stirred his spirit, like that of Paul at Athens. He wrote home to entreat the Church Missionary Society, if possible, to send them teachers; but this lay not within their province. From a letter of Sir George Grey’s, addressed to himself, it appears that he had interested some members of the English government upon the subject, and that while at Rio he had been active in distributing the Scriptures.

But he was now to resume his labours in Australia, where he arrived in safety, fondly calculating upon a long season of peaceful toil in his heavenly Master’s service. His mind was occupied with various projects, both for the good of the colony and of the heathen round about. His own letters, simply and hastily thrown off in all the confidence of friendship, will show how eagerly he plunged, and with what a total absence of selfish considerations, into the work before him:

“Paramatta, October 26, 1810.

“To John Terry, Esq.

“Dear Sir.—I received your kind and affectionate letter, also a bottle of wheat, with the Hull papers, from your brother; for all of which I feel much indebted. We had a very fine passage, and I found my affairs much better than I had any reason to expect. The revolution had caused much distress to many families, and the settlement has been thrown much back by this event. My wishes for the general welfare of the colony have been more successful than I expected they would be. The rising generation are now under education in almost all parts of the country. The Catholic priests have all left us, so that we have now the whole field to ourselves. I trust much good will be done; some amongst us are turning to the Lord. Our churches are well attended, which is promising and encouraging to us. My colleagues are men of piety and four of the schoolmasters. This will become a great country in time, it is much favoured in its soil and climate. I am very anxious for the instruction of the New Zealanders; they are a noble race, vastly superior in understanding to anything you can imagine a savage nation could attain. Mr. Hall, who was in Hull, and came out with us with an intention to proceed to New Zealand as a missionary, has not yet proceeded, in consequence of a melancholy difference between the natives of that island and the crew of a ship called the ‘Boyd.’ The ship was burnt, and all the crew murdered; our people, it appears, were the first aggressors, and dearly paid for their conduct towards the natives by the loss of their lives and ship. I do not think that this awful event will prevent the establishment of a mission at New Zealand. Time must be allowed for the difference to be made up, and for confidence to be restored. I wrote a letter to Mr. Hardcastle, and another to Rev. J. Pratt, Secretary to the Society for Missions to Africa and the East, and have pointed out to them the necessity of having a ship constantly employed in visiting the islands in the South Seas, for the convenience, safety, and protection of the missionaries, either at Otaheite and New Zealand, or at any other island upon which they may reside....

“Your’s respectfully,
“(Signed) Samuel Marsden.”

Great projects are not to be accomplished without many disappointments. The first attempt is seldom the successful one. In spiritual things, this may be regarded as the established rule, or law, in accordance to which the Head of the church controls while he purifies his servants’ zeal. They are made to feel their weakness. Where they expect honour they meet with opposition, perhaps with scorn. Their favourite plans are those which bring, for a time, the least success and the greatest anxiety. Thus they are taught the great lesson of their own weakness, and the only less important one of the insignificance of others in whom they trusted. And thus, too, in the painful but salutary school of adversity, they learn that the highest wisdom is, after all, simply to accept the cross of Christ, and to cast themselves on the unerring guidance of the Holy Spirit; and, in a word, “to cease from man.”

The new governor, General Macquarie, had arrived out a few months before Mr. Marsden. He was an able commander, and had the good of the colony much at heart; and he had a task of no little difficulty to perform, in reducing what was still a penal colony, just recovering from a state of insurrection, into order and obedience. His powers were great; he considered them absolute. Mr. Marsden, too, was justly tenacious of public morality and virtue, and still more so of the spiritual independence of the ministerial character. It seems that the rights of the governor on the one side, and those of the ministers of religion on the other, had not been accurately defined by the government at home, and thus a collision between two minds so firm and so resolute as those of the governor and Mr. Marsden, was inevitable. Occasions of difference soon arose; the governor anxious, we doubt not, to raise their character and elevate their position, with a view to the future welfare of the colony, placed several of the convicts on the magisterial bench, treated them with respect, and even invited them to his table. With these men, Mr. Marsden refused, as a magistrate, to act, or to meet them in society on equal terms. Some of them were notoriously persons of a bad and vicious life; while none of them, he thought, could, without gross impropriety, punish others judicially for the infraction of that law which they themselves had broken. He would gladly have resigned his magisterial office, but the governor knew the worth of his services, and refused to accept his resignation, which was repeatedly tendered. The new magistrates were of course offended, and became his bitter foes; and some of them harassed him for twenty years with slanders and libellous insults, until at length an appeal to the laws of his country vindicated his reputation and silenced his opponents. Differences of opinion may exist as to the wisdom of Governor Macquarie’s conduct in these civil affairs, and many will perhaps justify his proceedings; but every right-minded man will condemn without hesitation the attempts which he made to lord it over the consciences of the established clergy and other Christian ministers in the colony, in the discharge of their purely ministerial work. He wished to dictate even to the pulpit. Mr. Marsden relates that he once sent for him to the Government-house, and commanded him to produce the manuscript of a sermon which he had preached nearly a year before: he did so; when the governor severely commented upon it, and returned it with the remark that one sentence, which it is more than probable he did not understand, was “almost downright blasphemy.” The junior clergy were of course still more exposed to the same despotic interference. The governor wished to prescribe the hymns they should sing, as well as the doctrines they should teach; and he repeatedly insisted on their giving out, during divine service, secular notices of so improper a character, that the military officers in attendance expressed their disgust. Happy it was for the colony of New South Wales that he met with an opponent firm and fearless, and at the same time sound in the faith, such as the senior chaplain. On him menaces and flattery were lost. The governor, at one time, even threatened him with a court-martial; nor was the threat altogether an empty one, for he actually brought one of the junior chaplains, Mr. Vale, before a court-martial, and had him dismissed the colony. These are painful facts, and such as, at this distance of time, we should gladly pass over in silence; but, in that case, what could the reader know of the trials through which Mr. Marsden passed?

Yet amidst all these distractions his letters testify that he possessed his soul in peace, and that “no root of bitterness, troubled” him. He speaks with respect of the governor, gives him credit for good intentions, and acknowledges the many benefits he conferred upon the colony; and when at length he was on the eve of returning home, Governor Macquarie himself bore testimony to the piety, integrity, and invaluable services of the only man who had dared patiently yet firmly to contend with him during a long course of years.

The records of ministerial life offer little variety, but to pious minds they are not without interest. Mr. Marsden rose early, generally at four o’clock during the summer; and the morning hours were spent in his study. To a Christian minister a few hours of retirement in the morning are indispensable, or the mind is distracted and the day is lost. Very early rising is a question of health and constitution as well as of conscience, and we lay no burden upon those who cannot practise it. To those who can, the habit is invaluable. Three friends of Mr. Marsden present us with different examples in this matter. Simeon’s twenty volumes of Horæ Homilicæ, or outlines of sermons, were all written between five and eight o’clock in the morning. Thomas Scott, the commentator, seldom had more than three hours a-day in his study and those three were early ones. Wilberforce on the other hand laments that he could do nothing till he had had his “full dose of sleep.” Those who cannot rise early may still make the day long by turning to account the fragments of time and vacant half-hours which are so recklessly permitted by most men, especially strong men, to run to waste.

In the early days of the colony, Mr. Marsden used to officiate in the morning at St. Philip’s, Sydney. Roads were bad and conveyances scarce, and he often walked a distance of fifteen miles to Paramatta, where he conducted another service and preached again. His preaching is described as very plain, full of good sense and manly thought, and treating chiefly of the great foundation truths of the gospel. Man a lost sinner and needing conversion, Christ an Almighty Saviour pardoning sin, the Holy Ghost an all-sufficient sanctifier, guide, and comforter, carrying on the work of grace within the soul. Those who came to hear a great preacher went away disappointed; those who came to pass a listless hour were sometimes grievously disturbed. The authenticity of the following anecdote has been assured to us by Mr. Marsden’s surviving friends.

He was one day walking by the banks of the river, when a convict as he passed plunged into the water. Mr. Marsden threw off his coat, and in an instant plunged in after him and endeavoured to bring the man to land. He contrived however to get Mr. Marsden’s head under the water, and a desperate struggle for life ensued between them; till Mr. Marsden, being the stronger of the two, not only succeeded in getting safe to shore but in dragging the man with him. The poor fellow, struck with remorse, confessed his intention. He had resolved to have his revenge on the senior chaplain, whose offence was that he had preached a sermon which had stung him to the quick; and he believed, as a sinner exasperated by the reflection of his own vices does frequently believe, that the preacher had meant to hold him up to the scorn of the congregation. He knew too that the sight of a drowning fellow-creature would draw out the instant help of one who never knew what fear was in the discharge of duty; and he threw himself into the stream confident of drowning Mr. Marsden, and then of making good his own escape. He became very penitent, was a useful member of society, and greatly attached to his deliverer, who afterwards took him into his own service, where he remained for some years. We cannot give a more painful illustration of the malignity with which he was pursued, than to state that the current version of this story in the colony was, that the convict had been unjustly punished by Mr. Marsden as a magistrate, and took this method of revenge.

He made the most, too, of his opportunities. At a time when there were very few churches or clergymen, and the settlers were widely scattered over large tracts, he frequently made an itinerating ministerial visit amongst them. He was everywhere received with the greatest cordiality and respect. On arriving at a farm, a man on horseback was immediately dispatched to all the neighbours within ten or twelve miles to collect them for public worship. The settlers gladly availed themselves of these opportunities, and assembled, in numbers varying from sixty to eighty, when Divine service was conducted in a vacant barn or under the shade of a verandah. The next day, he proceeded twenty or twenty-five miles further on in the wilds, and again collected a congregation. These tours would often extend over ten days or a fortnight, and were repeated as his more settled duties permitted. Thus his name became a household word, pronounced with love and gratitude far beyond the limits of his parish, or even of the colony; and probably he found some of his most willing hearers amongst those to whom he thus carried in their solitude the glad tidings of a salvation which when offered to them week by week at home they had neglected or despised.

Yet his duties as principal chaplain were not neglected. From a general government order, dated September, 1810, it appears that amongst them were those of an overseer, or chief pastor of the church. “The assistant chaplains are directed to consider themselves at all times under the immediate control and superintendence of the principal chaplain, and are to make such occasional reports to him respecting their clerical duties as he may think proper to require or call for.” A high tribute to his worth under the circumstances in which he was placed by his opposition to the governor. The chaplains frequently sought his protection against arbitrary power, and he willingly fought their battles and his own in defence of liberty of conscience and the right of conducting God’s worship undisturbed. His connexion with his clerical brethren seems to have been uniformly happy, and the same remark is true of the missionaries of various denominations, not a few in number, who, during a period of twenty years, were virtually under his control. He had undoubtedly the rare power of governing others in a very high degree, and it was done noiselessly and with a gentle hand; for the men who govern well seldom obtrude their authority in an offensive manner, or worry those they should control with a petty interference. He had the same kind of influence, and probably from the same cause, over the very horses in his carriage. He used, in driving from Sydney to Paramatta, to throw the reins behind the dash-board, take up his book, and leave them to themselves, his maxim being “that the horse that could not keep itself up was not worth driving.” One of the pair was almost unmanageable in other hands, but it was remarked that “Captain” always conducted himself well when his master drove, and never had an accident.

Amongst his strictly pastoral cares, two schools for orphans had a foremost place. A female orphan school was first proposed, and Mr. Marsden undertook the direction of the work, and became treasurer to the institution. From its formation in 1800 to the year 1821, two hundred children were admitted. It may be a question whether the children of living parents, however ignorant or even dissolute they may be, should be totally withdrawn from parental sympathies. The presence of a child may restrain, and its artless remonstrances are often known to touch, a vicious father or mother whom no other influence can reach; and Dr. Guthrie’s recent experiment in Edinburgh seems to show us that the best method of Christianizing both child and parent is to instruct the former well by day, and to send him home at night a little missionary to his parents, where other teaching would be scorned. But in the case of orphans no such questions occur, and we must look upon an orphan school with unmixed satisfaction. A male orphan school followed in due course, in which the boys were instructed in some trade and then apprenticed. In both schools the moral and religious training was the chief consideration; yet Mr. Marsden’s connexion with them was attributed by his enemies to a sordid motive, and even those in power, who should have known him better, gave public currency to these injurious reports.

The fact was that when the institutions were founded the treasurer was allowed a small per centage upon the receipts, as a clerical fee or stipend; this he allowed to accumulate until he resigned the office, when he presented the whole sum to the institution. The committee absolutely refusing to accept it, he purchased cattle from the government to the full amount, and made a present of them to the orphan schools. Soon after his return from England it became necessary to erect new schools. The work was long and tedious, and owing to the want of labour in the colony, and the idle and drunken habits of the labourers, nearly ten years elapsed before they were completed, and the work too was often at a stand for want of funds. These, however, Mr. Marsden—whom no pecuniary obstacles could daunt—supplied, in a great measure, out of his own purse, till his advances amounted to nearly 900l.; and his disinterested conduct in the end occasioned him very considerable loss. To the latest period he never ceased to take the warmest interest in the prosperity of these institutions.

“I am sure,” says his daughter, “my father’s parish was not neglected. He was well known to all his parishioners, as he was in the habit of constantly calling upon them. He was very attentive to the sick, whether at their own homes or at the government hospital. He also took great interest in the education of the young. It was through his instrumentality that many schools were established. His Sunday school, at the time of which I speak, was in a more efficient state than any I have since seen; but this my brother-in-law, the Rev. T. Hassell, had a great deal to do with, as he was then acting as my father’s curate. The factory for the reception of female convicts was built entirely by his suggestion, and to their religious and moral improvement he devoted a good deal of his time. It was principally owing to his endeavours to get this and other institutions in good order that much of his discomfort with his fellow-magistrates and government officers arose.”

The aborigines of Australia were, even when the colony was first settled, comparatively few in number; and in painful conformity with universal experience, they have wasted away before the white man, and will probably disappear in time from the face of the earth. If the New Zealander stands highest in the scale of savage nature, the native Australian occupies perhaps the lowest place. So low, indeed, was their intellect rated, that when the phrenological system of Drs. Gall and Spurzheim began to occupy attention, some forty years ago, the skulls of several of them were sent over to England to be submitted to the manipulations of its professors, with a view of ascertaining whether the Creator had not thrust into existence a whole race of idiots—men who had neither reason to guide them on the one hand, nor well-developed instinct on the other. They are supposed to be a mixture of the Malay and negro races, but they have nothing of the muscular strength of the negro, nor of his mental pliancy, and both in body and mind are far below the pure Malay. In the infancy of the colony they rambled into the town of Port Jackson in a state of nudity, and when blankets were presented to them they were thrown aside as an incumbrance. They seemed to have no wants beyond those which the dart or spear—never out of their hands—could instantly supply. Their food was the opossum, but when this was not to be found they were by no means delicate; grubs, snakes, putrid whales, and even vermin were eagerly devoured, though fish and oysters were preferred. They are a nomad or wandering people, always moving from place to place in search of food, or from the mere love of change. During the winter, they erect a hut, resembling a beehive, of rude wicker-work besmeared with clay; but in general a mere hurdle, such as we use in England for penning sheep, placed to windward in the ground, is all their shelter; under this they lie with a fire kindled in the front of it. Our English stragglers have made themselves well acquainted with their habits, frequently living amongst them for weeks together in the bush. These all agree in admiration of the skill with which they throw the dart, which seldom misses, even from a child’s hand, to strike its prey. They are peaceable and inoffensive to strangers, and kind to their “gins,” or wives, and to their children, unless their savage natures are aroused, when they become horribly brutal and vindictive. Few savage tribes have been found whose ideas on religion are less distinct. They believe in a good spirit, Royan, and a bad one, Potoyan; but like all savages—like all men, we may say, either savage or civilized, who know not God—they dread the evil spirit far more than they love the good one. They offer no prayer, and have no worship or sacrifices. Civil government is unknown; authority in the tribe depends on personal strength or cunning. A wandering life with abundance of provisions, amongst their native woods, shores, and mountains, is the sum of all the little happiness they know or seek.

Some efforts were made in the early period of the colony on their behalf. A district near Port Jackson was assigned them, and they were encouraged to reside in it; but it was very soon deserted. The roving habits of the aborigines made any settled residence irksome; and their wants were so few that they would neither engage in trade, nor submit to labour for the sake of wages. It retained the name of the Black Town for many years; but the black men have long since deserted it. Governor Macquarie, after consulting with Mr. Marsden, then attempted a farm, and, in connexion with it, a kind of reformatory school at Paramatta, where they were to be civilized and cured of their migratory habits, and instructed in the Christian religion. Mr. Marsden took a warm interest in the scheme, as he did in everything that concerned the welfare of the aborigines. Still it failed; for it was founded, as experience has shown, upon wrong principles. Mr. Marsden, however, is not to be blamed for this; since Governor Macquarie, having now conceived a violent prejudice against him, omitted his name from the committee of management, although the institution was placed in his own parish, introducing those of two junior chaplains; and it was not till the governor’s retirement that he took an active part in its affairs. But the character of the institution was then fixed, and its approaching failure was evident.

Two faults were interwoven with it, either of which must have proved fatal. In the first place, the attempt to confine a nomad, wandering tribe within the precincts of a farm, or to bring them to endure, except it had been by force, the discipline of lads in an English workhouse, was upon the very face of it absurd. These, we must remember, were the early days of English philanthropy amongst wild black men. She had yet to make her blunders and learn her first lessons. Why should a nomad race be settled upon the workhouse plan, or even confined to an English farm? Why should they not rather be encouraged to dwell in tents, carry civilization with them into their own woods and mountains, and, roam, free and fearless, over those vast regions which God had given them to possess, until at last they themselves shall wish to adopt the settled habits of European Christians? A roving life in the wilderness is not of necessity an idle or a barbarous one. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob were highly civilized, and eminently devout. “Arabians” and “dwellers in Mesopotamia,” wanderers of the desert, heard the word with gladness, and received the Holy Ghost upon the day of Pentecost. But we do not read that they were required to live in cities, and abandon the long-cherished wilderness, with all its solemn associations and grand delights. And we have not so mean an opinion of Christianity as to believe that it can thrive only in towns well paved and lighted, or in farms neatly fenced and artificially cultivated. The true missionary must track the wandering savage into the desert, and there make himself his guide and friend; and teach him that the gospel of Jesus Christ is indeed of God, inasmuch as it is fitted, as no human contrivance can be fitted, for man, whatever his outward circumstances or his mode of life; that it knows no difference between the dweller in the tent, and in “cities, tall and fenced up to heaven.” “Barbarian, Scythian, bond or free,” are all alike welcome to its blessings; and we can see no good reason why there should not be Christian tribes in the wilderness, as there were patriarchal churches in the plains of the Euphrates, long before the law was given on Mount Sinai.

The other mistake was the same which has tainted other missions in their infancy, and to which we have made some allusion. It was thought necessary to prepare the savage mind for Christianity, by the preliminary discipline of a civilizing process. This is inverting the order in which God proceeds: “The entrance of thy word giveth light.” When the voice of God speaks within, and not before, the demoniac quits “his dwelling amongst the tombs;” no longer “tears off his raiment” like a brute beast, unconscious of shame; ceases to be “exceeding fierce,” and is now found “sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed, and in his right mind.” A few efforts upon this, the right evangelical principle as we conceive, have been made from time to time amongst these degraded aborigines; but the success has not been great. A wide field still remains, thinly peopled and spiritually uncultivated. If these lines should be read by our Christian friends in Australia, to them we would venture to commend the glorious enterprise. Let there be one colony at least in which the aborigines shall share the intruder’s prosperity. Let the vast centre of the Australian continent one day rejoice in its thronging tribes of Christian aborigines.

Mr. Marsden’s view of the native character may be gathered from the following statement, which he published in self-defence when charged with indifference as to their conversion. “More than twenty years ago, a native lived with me at Paramatta, and for a while I thought I could make something of him; but at length he got tired, and no inducement could prevail upon him to continue in my house; he took to the bush again, where he has continued ever since. One of my colleagues, the Rev. R. Johnstone, took two native girls into his house, for the express purpose of educating them; they were fed and clothed like Europeans; but in a short time they went into the woods again. Another native, named Daniel, was taken when a boy into the family of Mrs. C.; he was taken to England; mixed there with the best society, and could speak English well; but on his return from England he reverted to his former wild pursuits.” In reply to the inquiries made by Mr. Marsden, who once met Daniel after he returned to his savage state, he said; “The natives universally prefer a free and independent life, with all its privations, to the least restraint.” Without multiplying instances quoted by Mr. Marsden, the trial he made with an infant shows that his heart was not unfriendly towards these people. “One of my boys, whom I attempted to civilize, was taken from its mother’s breast, and brought up with my own children for twelve years; but he retained his instinctive taste for native food; and he wanted that attachment to me and my family that we had just reason to look for; and always seemed deficient in those feelings of affection which are the very bonds of social life.” This boy ran away at Rio from Mr. Marsden, when returning from England in 1810, but was brought back to the colony by Captain Piper; and died in the Sydney hospital, exhibiting Christian faith and penitence. “I mentioned to the governor,” he adds, “some of these circumstances, but not with any view to create difficulties; so far from it, that I informed him that I was authorized by the Church Missionary Society to assist any plan with pecuniary aid, that was likely to benefit the natives of the colony.” A mission was in fact set on foot by this Society; but from various causes, it failed, and was abandoned.

CHAPTER VI.

Mr. Marsden’s correspondence with the London Missionary Society—Buys the brig Active—His first Voyage to New Zealand—Journal of Events.

Richard Baxter, after describing his ministerial labours at Kidderminster in preaching and visiting from house to house, has these remarkable words: “But all these, my labours, even preaching and preparing for it, were but my recreations, and, as it were, the work of my spare hours; for my writings were my chiefest daily labour.” Mr. Marsden had his recreations, too. Amidst the anxieties of his colonial chaplaincy he found or made opportunities to conduct a work which of itself would have been sufficient to exhaust the energies and to immortalize the memory of any other man. We devote this chapter to a short, and, of necessity, imperfect sketch of these his recreations in the missionary field.

On his return from England in 1810, he found disastrous tidings of the Tahitian mission awaiting his arrival. Disheartened by their utter want of success, divided amongst themselves, distracted with fears of danger from the natives, several of the missionaries had fled from their posts, and taken refuge in New South Wales. The work appeared to be on the eve of ruin, and it was owing in no small measure to the firmness and wise conduct of Mr. Marsden that it was not, for a time at least, abandoned. “Sooner,” he exclaims, in one of his letters to the Society at home, “than that shall be the case, I will give up my chaplaincy, and go myself and live at Otaheite.” Yet it was no easy task to inspire others with his own courage, or to impart his hopeful spirit to a desponding band of men. He felt the difficulty, and acted towards them in the most considerate manner. Instead of at once insisting on their return, he received them into his family, where it is scarcely necessary to say they were treated with that patriarchal hospitality for which the parsonage of Paramatta was famed. When a few months had passed, and their spirits were cheered and their health restored, the question of their return to Tahiti was introduced and quietly discussed. Their kind and pious host had never for an instant doubted of their ultimate success. We have perused numerous letters addressed by him to the London Missionary Society, and to various friends in England; but in not one of them is the shadow of a doubt expressed as to the triumph of the gospel in Tahiti and the Society Islands; and we may extend the remark to the New Zealand mission, as shown by his correspondence with the Church Missionary Society a few years later. About this period a reaction had taken place in England amongst religious people. The fond hopes they had unwisely entertained of seeing vast results wherever the gospel was introduced among the heathen and upon the first proclamation of it, had been grievously disturbed; and now the tide ran in the opposite direction. Nothing appears to have given Mr. Marsden more uneasiness than the general lukewarmness of the church of Christ at home, and their despondency as to the success of missions. He speaks of his “anxious days and sleepless nights.” But his own courage never failed; and this high undoubting faith, it is beautiful to observe, rests always on the same foundation. It was not, much as he respected them, his confidence either in the Societies at home, or in their missionaries abroad, but simply in the promises of God, in the power of the gospel, and in the unchanging love of Christ for his “inheritance” among the heathen. Thus the missionaries were induced to return to their deserted posts; and not only so, but to resume their work in a higher spirit of faith and cheerfulness. It was not long before hopeful signs broke out, and within ten years Pomare the sovereign became a Christian king, and the island of Tahiti a Christian land.

The distance of these missions from Australia, and the difficulty of communicating with them, suggested to Mr. Marsden the advantage of employing a vessel entirely on missionary service. When his mind was once made up he lost no time; the consent of the Societies in England could not all at once be gained; so he resolved, at his own cost, to purchase a missionary ship, the first probably that ever floated on the deep, and bought the Active, a brig of a hundred tons burden, for the service of the two great missions on which his heart was fixed. The following letter, addressed to the Rev. George Burder, though written two years later, is introduced here to complete our summary of the re-establishment of the Tahitian mission:

“Paramatta, June 9, 1815.

“Rev. and dear Sir,—I received a short letter from you by the late arrivals, and found you had not got any very interesting accounts from the brethren at Otaheite. The last account I had from them, they were going on exceedingly well, and the Lord was owning and blessing their labours. You will hear I lately visited New Zealand, and also my views of that island. Finding that the Societies in London could not make up their minds, neither as a body nor as individuals, to send out a vessel, I at last determined to purchase one for the purpose on my own account. The various expenses attending it have created me some little pecuniary difficulties; but they are only known to myself, and not such as will be attended with any serious consequence. I hope in a little time I shall be able to surmount them; whether I shall keep the vessel in my own hands or not, I am not certain as yet. I cannot do it without some assistance at the first; if I could, I certainly would not trouble any of my friends. The vessel has been twice at New Zealand, and is gone a third time. When she returns I intend her to visit the brethren at Otaheite. It is my intention that she should sail in August next to Otaheite. The brethren there have been labouring hard to build a vessel for themselves, which is almost completed. I have agreed to take a share with them in her. During the time the brethren have been building their vessel, the work of the Lord appears to have prospered very much, far beyond all expectation.”

He adds, “I estimate the expenses of the vessel at 1500l. per annum, and I think, if I am not mistaken in my views, that her returns will not be less than 1000l. per annum, and perhaps more. I may venture to say I should not call on the two Societies for more than the sum I have stated, namely, 500l. per annum from this time. I will not demand anything if the returns cover the expenses for the use of the vessel.” These returns were to be obtained by “freighting the Active with the produce of the industry of the natives, and trading with them in return.” This would “stimulate their exertions, correct their vagrant minds, and enrich them with the comforts and conveniences of civil life.” The letter closes with suggesting yet another mission; for the large heart of the writer saw in the approaching triumph of the gospel in his favourite missions only a call to fresh exertions. Even as Paul, when he had “fully preached from Jerusalem round about unto Illyricum,” sighed after fresh labours, and still remoter conquests for his Lord. “I wish to mention to you that it would be a great object if the Society would turn their thoughts a little to the Friendly Islands. New Zealand being on one side, and the Society Islands on the other, with labourers now upon them, the Friendly Islands ought not to be left destitute. These islands are very populous, and as the London Missionary Society first began the work there, I think they should renew their attempt. I cannot recommend any establishment upon any of the islands in the South Seas, unless commerce is more or less attended to, in order to call forth the industry of the natives. Provided the Society as a body will not consent to have anything to do with commerce, I see no reason why a few pious friends might not, who wish to aid the missionary cause. You cannot form a nation without commerce and the civil arts. A person of information who is well acquainted with the Friendly Islands informed me that the labour of a hundred thousand men might be brought into action upon these islands in producing sugar, cordage, cotton, etc.... A hundred thousand men will never form themselves into any regular society, and enjoy the productions of their country without commerce. Should the Society have any doubts upon the point, let them authorize an inquiry into the state of these islands, when there is an opportunity to examine them, and a report of their inhabitants and their productions laid out before them.” Mr. Marsden then describes the openings at New Zealand, and concludes a long letter thus: “I have stated my sentiments with great haste. You will excuse the hasty scrawl. I can assure you my sincere wish and prayer to the great Head of the church is that all may prosper that love him. I am, dear sir, yours affectionately, S. Marsden.”

A postscript adds:—

“Since writing this letter, I have determined to keep the Active in my own hands.”

Let us now turn to the New Zealand mission, which occupied, from this time, so large a portion of Mr. Marsden’s public life.

We have mentioned the designation of two laymen, Messrs. Hall and King, for this mission by the Church Missionary Society in 1808. They sailed from England, with Mr. Marsden, in 1810, and were soon after followed by Mr. Kendall, and the three assembled at New South Wales, intending to sail thence without delay for the scene of their future work. But here fresh difficulties arose. Mr. Marsden’s intention was to accompany them, and in person to meet the first dangers, and lay, as it were, the first stone. But this the new governor absolutely forbade. To him, and in fact to most men in his circumstances, the whole scheme seemed utterly preposterous. The idea of converting the savages of New Zealand was the chimera of a pious enthusiast—a good and useful man in his way, but one who was not to be allowed thus idly to squander the lives of others, to say nothing of his own. Nor in truth were the governor’s objections altogether without foundation. The last news from New Zealand was that an English ship, the Boyd, had been seized and burned by the cannibals in the Bay of Islands, and every soul on board, seventy in all, killed and eaten. The report was true, save only that, out of the whole of the ship’s company, two women and a boy had been spared to live in slavery with the savages. A New Zealand chief had sailed on board, as it afterwards appeared, and had been treated with brutal indignities similar to those which Duaterra suffered from the captain of the Santa Anna. He smothered his resentment, and, waiting the return of the Boyd to the Bay of Islands, summoned his tribe, who, on various pretences, crowded the deck of the ship, and at a given signal rushed upon the crew, dispatched them with their clubs and hatchets, and then gorged themselves and their followers on the horrible repast. All then that Mr. Marsden could obtain at present was permission to charter a vessel, if a captain could be found sufficiently courageous to risk his life and ship in such an enterprise, and to send out the three missionaries as pioneers; with a reluctant promise from the governor that if on the ship’s return, all had turned out well, he should not be hindered from following. For some time no such adventurous captain could be found. At length, for the sum of 600l. for a single voyage, an offer was made, but Mr. Marsden looked upon the sum as far too much; and this, with other considerations, induced him to purchase his own missionary brig, the Active, in which Messrs. Hall and Kendall finally set sail for the Bay of Islands. They carried a message to Duaterra, entreating him to receive them kindly, and inviting him, too, to return with them to Paramatta, bringing along with him two or three friendly chiefs.

Duaterra, after his visit to Mr. Marsden, on his way from England, had again suffered great hardships from the perfidy of the master of the Frederick, with whom he had embarked from New South Wales under an express engagement to be set on shore at the Bay of Islands, where his tribe dwelt. He was carried to Norfolk Island, and there left; and, to aggravate his wrongs and sorrows, the vessel passed within two miles of his own shores and in sight of his long lost home. He was defrauded too of his share of the oil he had procured with his companions, worth 100l. A whaler found him on Norfolk Island, almost naked and in the last stage of want, and brought him once more to Australia and to his friend and patron Mr. Marsden. A short stay sufficed; he sailed again from Sydney, and soon found himself, to his great joy, amongst his friends in New Zealand. On the arrival of the Active with its missionaries—the first messengers of Christ who landed on its shores—he was there to greet them, and to repay, a thousandfold, the kindness of his friend the minister of Paramatta, in the welcome he secured for these defenceless strangers. They carried with them too a present which, trifling as it may seem, was not without its share of influence in the great work; the story is suggestive, and may serve a higher purpose than merely to amuse the reader.

Duaterra had been provided by Mr. Marsden with a supply of wheat for sowing on his return to New Zealand. No such thing as a field of grain of any kind had yet waved its golden ears on that fertile soil. To this accomplished savage the honour belongs of first introducing agriculture into an island destined, within forty years, to rival the best farms of England both in the value of its crops and the variety of its produce. The neighbouring chiefs and their tribes viewed with wonder first the green ears and then the growing corn. The wild potato, the fern, and a few other roots were the only produce of the earth they were yet acquainted with, and when Duaterra assured them that his field of wheat was to yield the flour out of which the bread and biscuits they had tasted on English ships were made, they tore up several plants, expecting to find something resembling their own potato at the root. That the ears themselves should furnish the materials for a loaf was not to be believed. Duaterra meant to impose upon them, or else he had been duped himself, but they were not to be cajoled with the tales of a traveller. The field was reaped and the corn threshed out, when Duaterra was mortified with the discovery that he was not provided with a mill. He made several attempts to grind his corn with the help of a coffee-mill borrowed from a trading-ship, but without success; and now, like the inventor of steam navigation, and other benefactors of their species nearer home, he was laughed at for his simplicity. It is strange that the ancient Roman quern, a hollow stone in which the grain was pounded, the rudest form in fact of the pestle and mortar, should not have occurred to him; but the total want of invention is an invariable characteristic of savage nature. At length the Active brought the important present of a hand-mill for grinding corn. Duaterra’s friends assembled to watch the experiment, still incredulous of the promised result; but when the meal began to stream out beneath the machine their astonishment was unbounded; and when a cake was produced, hastily baked in a frying-pan, they shouted and danced for joy, Duaterra was now to be trusted when he told them that the missionaries were good men. And thus the first favourable impression was made upon the savage Maories, whose race was in the next generation to become a civilized and Christian people.

Messrs Hall and Kendall, having introduced themselves and their mission in New Zealand, now, in obedience to their instructions, returned to Sydney accompanied by Duaterra and six other chiefs, amongst whom was Duaterra’s uncle the famous Shunghie, or Hongi, the most powerful of New Zealand chieftains; such was the confidence which Mr. Marsden’s name, together with the good conduct of the missionaries, had now inspired. The Active reached New South Wales on the 22nd of August, 1814. Nothing could exceed the joy which Mr. Marsden experienced on the successful termination of the voyage, and being filled with an earnest desire to promote the dissemination of the gospel amongst the New Zealanders, and having obtained the governor’s permission, he determined to accompany the missionaries on their return to the Bay of Islands. To his friend, Avison Terry, Esq., he wrote just before he sailed, Oct. 7, 1814—“It is my intention to visit New Zealand and see what can be done to promote the eternal welfare of the inhabitants of that island. I have now several of the chiefs living with me at Paramatta. They are as noble a race of men as are to be met with in any part of the world. I trust I shall be able, in some measure, to put a stop to those dreadful murders which have been committed upon the island for some years past, both by the Europeans and the natives. They are a much injured people, notwithstanding all that has been advanced against them. The time is now come, in my opinion, for them to be favoured with the everlasting gospel; and I trust to hear the joyful sound in those dark and dreary regions of sin and spiritual bondage. I have long had the most ardent wish to visit these poor heathen, but have never till the present time obtained permission. I have submitted my views to the Church Missionary Society, and solicited their aid. The expense of establishing a mission here will at first be very considerable.” ... [Here he mentions his purchase of the Active, etc.] “Should the Society approve of my views, no doubt they will give their support, but if they cannot enter into them in the manner I do, I cannot expect that assistance from them which may be required. My own means will enable me to set the mission on foot in the first instance, and I have little doubt but it will succeed.” Zeal such as this, tempered with discretion and guided by the “wisdom which cometh from above,” in answer to many believing prayers, could scarcely fail of its sure reward.

On the 19th of November, 1814, he embarked on his great mission, with a motley crew, such as (except perhaps on some other missionary ship) has seldom sailed in one small vessel—savages and Christian teachers and enterprising mechanics, their wives and children, besides cattle and horses. Of this strangely assorted company he gives the following description: “The number of persons on board the Active, including women and children, was thirty-five; the master, his wife and son, Messrs. Kendall, Hall, and King, with their wives and children, eight New Zealanders, (including Duaterra and his uncle the great warrior Shunghie or Hongi) two Otaheitans, and four Europeans belonging to the vessel, besides Mr. John Lydiard Nicholas and myself; there were also two sawyers, one smith, and a runaway convict whom we afterwards found on board, a horse and two mares, one bull and two cows, with a few sheep and poultry. The bull and cows have been presented by Governor Macquarie from his Majesty’s herd.” On the 15th December, they were in sight of land; the next day, the chiefs were sent on shore, and a friendly communication was at once opened with the natives. But even before they had landed “a canoe came alongside the Active, with plenty of fish, and shortly afterwards a chief followed from the shore, who immediately came on board.” Mr. Marsden’s fame, as the friend of the New Zealanders, had arrived before him. “I told them my name, with which they were all well acquainted.... We were now quite free from all fear, as the natives seemed desirous to show us attention by every possible means in their power.” The Active dropped her anchor a few days after at Wangaroa, near the Bay of Islands, the scene of the massacre of the Boyd’s crew, and there amongst the very cannibals by whose hands their countrymen had fallen so recently the first Christian mission to New Zealand was opened. A fierce and unholy revenge had been taken, in the murder of Tippahee, a native chieftain, and all his family, by an English crew who had visited Wangaroa after the Boyd’s destruction, and Tippahee, as Mr. Marsden always maintained, suffered unjustly, having had no share in the dreadful massacre. But thus it was; and amongst a people so exasperated did these servants of the most high God venture forth as the heralds of the gospel. Seldom since the words of the prophet were first uttered have they had, in reference to missionaries, a more significant, or a more correct appropriation than they now received. “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation.”

Mr. Marsden’s journal of this his first visit to New Zealand is a document of singular interest, and when published at the time in England, it made a deep impression. It is written in plain and forcible language, and is characterized by that vein of good sense and practical wisdom which so distinguished him. There is no display of his own sufferings, trials and privations, no affectation of laboured and studied expression, no highly coloured and partial representation of the savage condition of the natives. All his aim is to lay the truth before the Society and the friends of missions, and in doing so he has written with a degree of accuracy and honest feeling, which while they inform the understanding at once reach the heart. From this unpretending record, a few selections will be laid before the reader. And here, too, we would, once for all, acknowledge our obligations to his “companion in travel,” J. L. Nicholas, Esq., to whose manuscript journal of the visit to New Zealand, as well indeed as for other communications of great interest on the subject of Mr. Marsden’s life and labours, we shall be much indebted through the future pages of our work.

Duaterra and Shunghie had often told of the bloody war, arising out of the affair of the Boyd, that was raging, while they were at Paramatta, between the people of Wangaroa (the tribe of Tippahee) and the inhabitants of the Bay of Islands, who were their own friends and followers; the Wangaroans accusing the people of the Bay of Islands of having conspired with the English in the murder of Tippahee. When the Active arrived, several desperate battles had been fought, and the war was likely to continue.

Mr. Marsden was determined to establish peace amongst these contending tribes. He was known already as the friend of Duaterra and Shunghie; he now felt that he must convince the other party of his good intentions. He did not come amongst them as an ally of either, but as the friend of both; he resolved therefore to pass some time with the Wangaroans; and with a degree of intrepidity truly astonishing even in him, not only ventured on shore, but actually passed the night, accompanied by his friend Mr. Nicholas alone, with the very savages who had killed and eaten his countrymen. After a supper of fish and potatoes in the camp of Shunghie, they walked over to the hostile camp distant about a mile. They received the two white strangers very cordially. “We sat down amongst them, and the chiefs surrounded us.” Mr. Marsden then introduced the subject of his embassy, explained the object of the missionaries in coming to live amongst them, and showed how much peace would conduce in every way to the welfare of all parties. A chief, to whom the Europeans gave the name of George, acted as interpreter; he had sailed on board an English ship, and spoke English well. Mr. Marsden tells us how the first night was passed: “As the evening advanced the people began to retire to rest in different groups. About eleven o’clock Mr. Nicholas and I wrapped ourselves in our great coats, and prepared for rest. George directed me to lie by his side. His wife and child lay on the right hand, and Mr. Nicholas close by. The night was clear; the stars shone bright, and the sea in our front was smooth; around us were innumerable spears stuck upright in the ground, and groups of natives lying in all directions, like a flock of sheep upon the grass, as there were neither tents nor huts to cover them. I viewed our present situation with sensations and feelings that I cannot express, surrounded by cannibals who had massacred and devoured our countrymen. I wondered much at the mysteries of providence, and how these things could be. Never did I behold the blessed advantage of civilization in a more grateful light than now. I did not sleep much during the night. My mind was too seriously occupied by the present scene, and the new and strange ideas it naturally excited. About three in the morning I rose and walked about the camp, surveying the different groups of natives. When the morning light returned we beheld men, women, and children, asleep in all directions like the beasts of the field. I had ordered the boat to come on shore for us at daylight; and soon after Duaterra arrived in the camp.”

In the morning he gave an invitation to the chiefs to breakfast on board the Active, which they readily accepted. “At first I entertained doubts whether the chiefs would trust themselves with us or not, on account of the Boyd, lest we should detain them when we had them in our power; but they showed no signs of fear, and went on board with apparent confidence. The axes, billhooks, prints, etc., I intended to give them were all got ready after breakfast; the chiefs were seated in the cabin in great form to receive the presents, I sat on the one side, and they on the other side of the table; Duaterra stood and handed me each article separately that I was to give them. Messrs. Kendall, Hall, and King, with the master of the Active and his son, were all one after the other introduced to the chiefs. The chiefs were at the same time informed what duty each of the three persons were appointed to do. Mr. Kendall to instruct their children, Mr. Hall to build houses, boats, etc., Mr. King to make fishing lines, and Mr. Hanson to command the Active, which would be employed in bringing axes and such things as were wanted from Sydney, to enable them to cultivate their lands and improve their country. When these ceremonies were over, I expressed my hope that they would have no more wars, but from that time would be reconciled to each other. Duaterra, Shunghie, and Koro Koro shook hands with the chiefs of Wangaroa, and saluted each other as a token of reconciliation by joining their noses together. I was much gratified to see these men at amity once more.”

The chieftains now took their leave, much pleased with the attention of Mr. Marsden, and still more so with his presents; and they promised for the future to protect the missionaries and never to injure the European traders. Some of the presents excited no little wonder; no New Zealander, except the few who like Duaterra had been on foreign travel, had ever seen either cows or horses, for the largest quadruped yet naturalized in the island was the pig, and even that had been introduced but recently. Duaterra had often told his wondering countrymen of the horse and its rider, and in return was always laughed at; but when the horses were now landed and Mr. Marsden actually mounted one of them, they stood in crowds and gazed in mute astonishment. These traits of infant civilization are not without their use to those who may hereafter be cast among barbarous tribes, or may attempt their improvement.

The first Sunday on which the one true God was worshipped in New Zealand since the creation, will be for ever memorable in her annals. It was also Christmas-day, the 25th of December, 1815, “a day much to be remembered.” Mr. Marsden thus describes it: “Duaterra passed the remaining part of the previous day in preparing for the sabbath. He inclosed about half an acre of land with a fence, erected a pulpit and reading desk in the centre, and covered the whole either with black native cloth or some duck which he had brought with him from Port Jackson. He also procured some bottoms of old canoes, and fixed them up as seats on each side of the pulpit, for the Europeans to sit upon; intending to have divine service performed there the next day. These preparations he made of his own accord; and in the evening informed me that everything was ready for divine service. I was much pleased with this singular mark of his attention. The reading-desk was about three feet from the ground, and the pulpit about six feet. The black cloth covered the top of the pulpit, and hung over the sides; the bottom of the pulpit, as well as the reading-desk, was part of a canoe. The whole was becoming, and had a solemn appearance. He had also erected a flagstaff on the highest hill in the village, which had a very commanding view.

“On Sunday morning, when I was upon deck, I saw the English flag flying, which was a pleasing sight in New Zealand. I considered it as the signal and the dawn of civilization, liberty and religion, in that dark and benighted land. I never viewed the British colours with more gratification; and flattered myself they would never be removed, till the natives of that island enjoyed all the happiness of British subjects.

“About ten o’clock we prepared to go ashore, to publish for the first time the glad tidings of the gospel. I was under no apprehension for the safety of the vessel; and, therefore, ordered all on board to go on shore to attend divine service, except the master and one man. When we landed, we found Koro Koro, Duaterra, and Shunghie, dressed in regimentals, which Governor Macquarie had given them, with their men drawn up, ready to be marched into the inclosure to attend divine service. They had their swords by their sides, and switches in their hands. We entered the inclosure, and were placed on the seats on each side of the pulpit. Koro Koro marched his men, and placed them on my right hand, in the rear of the Europeans: and Duaterra placed his men on the left. The inhabitants of the town, with the women and children, and a number of other chiefs, formed a circle round the whole. A very solemn silence prevailed—the sight was truly impressive. I rose up and began the service with singing the Old Hundredth Psalm; and felt my very soul melt within me when I viewed my congregation, and considered the state they were in. After reading the service, during which the natives stood up and sat down at the signals given by Koro Koro’s switch, which was regulated by the movements of the Europeans, it being Christmas day, I preached from the second chapter of St. Luke’s gospel and tenth verse, ‘Behold, I bring you glad tidings of great joy,” etc. The natives told Duaterra that they could not understand what I meant. He replied, that they were not to mind that now, for they would understand by-and-by; and that he would explain my meaning as far as he could. When I had done preaching, he informed them what I had been talking about. Duaterra was very much pleased that he had been able to make all the necessary preparations for the performance of divine worship in so short a time, and we felt much obliged to him for his attention. He was extremely anxious to convince us that he would do everything in his power, and that the good of his country was his principal consideration.

“In this manner, the gospel has been introduced into New Zealand; and I fervently pray that the glory of it may never depart from its inhabitants till time shall be no more.”

The confidence of the natives in Mr. Marsden was now unbounded, and scarcely less was the confidence he reposed in them; and he resolved upon a short coasting voyage, with the view of exploring their different harbours, and making arrangements for the future extension of the mission. Many of the chiefs and warriors, led by Duaterra, wished to sail with him, and without the slightest misgiving, twenty-eight savages, fully armed after the fashion of their country, were invited on board the Active, manned as she was by only seven Europeans. “I do not believe,” Mr. Nicholas observes, “that a similar instance can be shown of such unlimited confidence placed in a race of savages known to be cannibals. We are wholly in their power, and what is there to hinder them from abusing it? Next to the overruling providence of God, there is nothing but the character of the ship, which seems to have something almost sacred in their eyes, and the influence of Mr. Marsden’s name, which acts as a talisman amongst them. They feel convinced that he is sacrificing his own ease and comfort to promote their welfare.”

Their leave of absence having nearly expired, Mr. Marsden and his companions were now obliged to prepare for their voyage homeward. They had laid the foundations of a great work—how great, none of them could tell. But they were full of faith in God, while, as patriots, they exulted in the prospect of extending the renown of dear old England. Mr. Marsden, in his conversations with the natives, explained to them the nature of our government, and the form of trial by jury; he discoursed with them upon the evils of polygamy, and showed his marked abhorrence of their darling vices—theft and lying. A chisel being lost from the Active a boat was sent on shore, manned by Duaterra and other chieftains, to demand restitution; the culprit was not found, nor the implement restored; but a whole village was aroused from its slumbers at midnight, and the inhabitants literally trembled with fear of the consequences when they saw the angry chieftains, though no harm was permitted to ensue. An example of high integrity was always set. Mr. Marsden might, for instance, have obtained land, or timber, or, in short, whatever he required in exchange for ammunition and muskets; but he sternly interdicted the sale or barter of these articles upon any terms whatever, and to this resolution he always adhered. Again and again does he express his determination, as well in this its earliest stage as in later periods of the mission, rather to abandon the whole work, which was far dearer to him than life itself, than to suffer it to be tainted by what he considered so nefarious a barter. “I further told them,” he says, “that the smith should make axes or hoes, or any other tools they wanted; but that he was on no account to repair any pistols or muskets, or make any warlike instruments, no not even for the greatest chiefs upon the island.” And he “took an opportunity, upon all occasions, to impress upon their minds the horrors their cannibalism excited; how much their nation was disgraced by it, and dreaded on this account.”

One thing still remained to be done. The missionaries possessed no land, and were liable, after his departure, to be removed or driven out at the mere caprice of the tribes amongst whom they settled. He therefore determined, if possible, to purchase for them a small estate. It consisted of about two hundred acres; and the first plot of ground to which England can lay claim in New Zealand was formally made over in a deed, of which Mr. Nicholas has fortunately preserved a transcript. It was executed in the presence of a number of chiefs, who were assembled to take leave of the Active on the day before she sailed, and ran as follows:—

“Know all men to whom these presents shall come, that I, Anodee O Gunna, king of Rangheehoo, in the island of New Zealand, have, in consideration of twelve axes to me in hand now paid and delivered by the Reverend Samuel Marsden of Paramatta, in the territory of New South Wales, given, granted, bargained, and sold; and by this present instrument do give, grant, bargain, and sell unto the committee of the Church Missionary Society for Africa and the East, instituted in London, in the kingdom of Great Britain, and to their heirs and successors, all that piece and parcel of land situate in the district of Hoshee, in the island of New Zealand, bounded on the south side by the bay of Lippouna and the town of Rangheehoo, on the north side by a creek of fresh water, and on the west by a public road into the interior, together with all the rights, members, privileges, and appurtenances thereto belonging; to have and to hold to the aforesaid committee of the Church Missionary Society for Africa and the East, instituted in London, in the kingdom of Great Britain, their heirs, successors, and assigns, for ever, clear and freed from all taxes, charges, impositions, and contributions whatsoever, as and for their own absolute and proper estate for ever.

“In testimony whereof I have to these presents, thus done and given, set my hand at Hoshee, in the island of New Zealand, this twenty-fourth day of February, in the year of Christ, one thousand eight hundred and fifteen.

(Signatures to the grant.) “Thomas Kendall.
“J. L. Nicholas.”

To this was affixed a complete drawing of the “amoco,” or tattooing of Gunna’s face, done by Shunghie, on one side of which he set his mark.

We need scarcely remind the reader how closely this transaction resembles the famous contract of William Penn with the native Indians, by which he became possessed of Pennsylvania. Much and justly as Penn has been admired, Mr. Marsden’s conduct is even more worthy of respect. Penn sought to found a colony, to place himself at its head, and to associate his own name with it through generations to come. The chaplain of Paramatta had not even these motives of honest and laudable ambition; he sought nothing for himself, nothing for his country, nothing even for the church of which he was a member, and which he warmly loved. His one aim was to evangelize New Zealand; to bring a nation of cannibals from darkness into the marvellous light of the gospel, and from the power of Satan unto God. His own name appears on the instrument only as the agent or representative of a missionary society in whom the property was vested; and yet at the time the purchase was made he was uncertain whether the bare expenses of his voyage, or even the cost and charges of his vessel, would ever be repaid to him. He sought neither wealth, nor honour, nor preferment, but acted with a simple aim to the glory of God. The memorial of such a name can never perish amongst men; and should it be forgotten, still his record is on high.

Mr. Marsden returned from his first voyage to New Zealand accompanied by no less than ten chiefs, and landed at Sydney on the 23rd of March, 1815. He and Mr. Nicholas immediately presented themselves to the governor, who “congratulated them on their safe return,” from what, in common with all the colony, he regarded as a most perilous and rash adventure.

CHAPTER VII.

Death of Duaterra—Trials of Mr. Marsden in the Colony—Libel of Philo-free—Letter to Rev. George Burder—To Dr. Mason Good—Sympathy of his Friends in England—Congratulations of the 46th Regiment, and Mr. Marsden’s acknowledgment—Letters of Lord Gambier, Rev. C. Simeon, and Mrs. Fry.

It was not to be expected that a career of unbroken success and easy triumph should crown the infant mission in New Zealand. Reverses and delays were to be looked for; they were in the nature of the work itself; and for such trials Mr. Marsden was prepared. But he had scarcely arrived at Paramatta before he was involved in sharper conflicts. No doubt they were a part of God’s discipline of love: for if Paul required “a thorn in the flesh” lest he “should be exalted above measure,” meaner disciples may surely expect to meet with stern rebuffs, in their career of usefulness and honour; and they will even learn to accept them with a thankful and a joyous heart.

The first discouragement was the death of Duaterra. Mr. Marsden had left him sick; and four days after his departure he expired, surrounded by his heathen countrymen, from whose superstitions, even to the last, he was by no means free. “He appeared at this awful moment,” Mr. Marsden writes, describing his last interview, “not to know what to do. He wished me to pray with him, which I did; but the superstitions of his country had evidently a strong hold upon his mind; the priest was always with him, night and day. Duaterra seemed at a loss where to repose his afflicted mind; his views of the gospel were not sufficiently clear to remove his superstitions; and at the same time he was happy to hear what I had to say to him. What horrors do these poor people suffer when they come to die!” His favourite wife, Dahoo, was inconsolable; and while Shunghie and his near relatives cut themselves with knives till the blood gushed out, she sought and found an opportunity to put a period to her own life by hanging herself, at a short distance from the body of her husband. None of the natives, not even her relatives, appeared shocked or surprised. “Her mother,” Mr. Kendall wrote, “wept while she was composing the limbs of her daughter; but she applauded her resolution, and the sacrifice which she had made for the man she so tenderly loved. Her father observed her corpse without any apparent concern. I could not discover a tear at the time it was brought before him. Two of her brothers smiled on the occasion, and said, ‘it was a good thing at New Zealand.’ It is common for women to act thus when their husbands die; they think that they then go to them.” Mr. Marsden, for a time, was almost overwhelmed. “I could not but view Duaterra, as he lay dying, with wonder and astonishment; and could scarcely bring myself to believe that the Divine Goodness would remove from the earth a man whose life appeared of such infinite importance to his country, which was just emerging from barbarism and superstition. No doubt but he had done his work and finished his appointed course, though I fondly imagined he had only just begun his race. He was in the prime and vigour of manhood: I judge his age to be about twenty-eight years. In reflecting on this awful and mysterious event, I am led to exclaim, with the apostle of the Gentiles, ‘Oh the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!’”

He was indeed a noble specimen of human nature in its savage state. His character was cast in the mould of heroes: at the very period of his death, after ten years of as much privation, danger, and hardship as nature could well bear, his courage was unsubdued, and his patriotism and enterprise unabated. He told Mr. Marsden with an air of triumph, “I have now introduced the cultivation of wheat into New Zealand; New Zealand will become a great country; in two years more I shall be able to export wheat to Port Jackson, in exchange for hoes, axes, spades, tea and sugar.” He had made arrangements for farming on a large scale, and had formed his plan for building a new town, with regular streets, after the European mode, on a beautiful situation which commanded a view of the harbour and the adjacent country. “I accompanied him to the spot,” says Mr. M.; “we examined the ground fixed on for the town, and the situation where the church was to stand.” Had he lived he would have been the Ulysses of his Ithaca—perhaps its Alfred; and nothing in his whole life gives us a juster idea of Mr. Marsden’s sagacity and keen perception than the fact of his singling out Duaterra, a sick and apparently dying common sailor on shipboard, and training him to be a powerful instrument, in God’s hands, for the civilization of New Zealand.

Other trials followed the death of Duaterra. Fresh wars broke out. One hostile tribe encamped in sight of the mission premises, and, no longer restrained by Mr. Marsden’s presence, threatened, not indeed to expel the missionaries, but to kill and eat them. For months together the affrighted band kept watch night and day; their children were laid to sleep in their cots dressed, to be ready for instant flight, and the boat was always kept afloat, with its oars and sail in readiness. The storm blew over, and they remained stedfast at their posts. Soon afterwards, the Wesleyan Methodists established their important and successful mission in the island, and the missionaries gained strength from each other in society and mutual counsel. The first Wesleyan missionary, the Rev. Samuel Leigh, was well known at Paramatta, and Mr. Marsden viewed his labours with thankfulness and hope; but the reports which reached him from time to time of the difficulties to which the missions were exposed still added much to his anxieties.

And now a series of persecutions began, which, while they never cowed his brave spirit, harassed and disturbed him more than those who were acquainted only with the outward features of his strong, dauntless character would have readily believed. It is greatly to his honour that all the sufferings to which he was exposed—newspaper libels, official misrepresentations, and personal abuse—arose immediately out of his endeavours to raise the morals of the colony, and to protect the unhappy women who came out as convicts, and were at that time exposed by most iniquitous neglect to still further degradation.

Just before his departure for New Zealand, he had addressed an official letter to the governor, calling his attention to the present state of Paramatta and its neighbourhood, as far as it related to its public morals and police, and especially with regard to the female convicts, of whom upwards of one hundred and fifty, besides seventy children, were employed in a government factory there, and whose condition, as far as we can venture to describe it, may be gathered from the following passage. The scene is painful; it is the dark side of our colonial history; but those who will not listen to these recitals can know but little of the obligations which society is under to such men as Howard and Samuel Marsden, or to heroic women, such as Mrs. Fry. In his letter to the governor he says:

“The number of women employed at the factory is one hundred and fifty; they have seventy children. There is not any room in the factory that can be called a bed-room for these women and children. There are only two rooms, and these are both occupied as workshops; they are over the jail, and are about eighty feet long and twenty wide. In these rooms there are forty-six women daily employed, twenty spinning wool upon the common wheel, and twenty-six carding. There are also in them the warping-machine, etc., belonging to the factory. These rooms are crowded all the day, and at night such women sleep in them as are confined for recent offences, amongst the wheels, wool, and cards, and a few others, who have no means whatever of procuring a better abode. The average number of women who sleep in the factory is about thirty in the whole. Many of these women have little, and some no bedding; they all sleep on the floor. There is not a candle or bedstead belonging to the factory. I do not deem it either safe or prudent that even thirty women should sleep in the factory, which has been crowded all day with working people; the air must be bad and contagious. Were the magistrate to compel even half the number of women, with their children, to sleep in the factory which belong to it, they could not exist. Not less than one hundred and twenty women are at large in the night to sleep where they can.”

He urges upon the governor the necessity of at least providing lodgings in barracks for these poor creatures. “When I am called upon,” he adds, “in the hour of sickness and want to visit them in the general hospital, or in the wretched hovels where they lodge, my mind is often oppressed beyond measure at the sight of their sufferings.... And if their dreary prospect beyond the grave be viewed in a religious light it far exceeds in horror the utmost bounds of human imagination. As their minister I must answer ere long at the bar of Divine justice for my duty to these objects of vice and woe, and often feel inexpressible anguish of spirit, in the moment of their approaching dissolution, on my own and their account, and follow them to the grave with awful forebodings lest I should be found at last to have neglected any part of my public duty as their minister and magistrate, and by so doing contributed to their eternal ruin. So powerful are these reflections at times that I envy the situation of the most menial servant who is freed from this sacred and solemn responsibility, namely, the care of immortal souls.... I am of opinion that no clergyman was ever placed in so painful and trying a situation as far as relates to the moral and religious state of the people committed to his care. I see them devoted to vice, and infamy, and extreme wretchedness while living, and when they come to die suffering all the horror of mind and anguish of spirit that guilt can possibly inspire, without the means of applying any remedy in either case.... I humbly conceive it is incompatible with the character and wish of the British nation that her own exiles should be exposed to such privations and dangerous temptations, when she is daily feeding the hungry, and clothing the naked, and receiving into her friendly, I may add pious bosom, strangers whether savage or civilized of every nation under heaven.”

The governor courteously replied, acknowledging the receipt of his letter; but no further steps were taken; and after waiting eighteen months “without the most distant prospect of obtaining relief for the female convicts from the colonial government,” he sent a copy of his own letter, with the governor’s answer, to the British government at home. By them it was submitted to a select committee of the House of Commons, when, in 1819, the state of our jails came under the consideration of parliament, and was afterwards printed in their report; Lord Bathurst, the colonial secretary, having previously submitted it to Governor Macquarie, requesting his opinion on the several matters it contained. Great exasperation followed; it seemed for a time as if the whole colony, with scarcely an exception, had risen as one man to crush the principal chaplain, who alone had dared to expose its profligacy and to check its abuses. The storm indeed had begun to mutter around his head before Lord Bathurst’s communication was received. The “Sydney Gazette,” which was under the immediate control of the governor, was allowed to publish from week to week the most scandalous libels upon his character. At length, a letter appeared signed Philo-free, which Mr. Marsden suspected, and at length discovered, to have been written by the governor’s secretary; it was aimed not merely against himself—this he could have borne in silence—but against the conduct and the moral character of the missionaries in the South Sea Islands, whose reputation he felt it his duty at every hazard to protect. He therefore appealed to the laws for shelter and redress, and two successive verdicts justified the course he took. There were at the time many, even of his warm friends, in England, who were almost disposed to blame him for a too sensitive and litigious spirit. But when the whole case lay before them, the wisest and the mildest men absolved him from the charge, and heartily approved his conduct. In the place of any comments of our own we will lay before the reader, in his own words, some of Mr. Marsden’s views upon the subject. They will see the principles by which he was actuated, and they will learn with amazement how great the difficulties with which the friends of missions have had to contend from their own countrymen. The first letter is addressed to the Rev. George Burder, and was read, as appears from the endorsement it bears, in the committee of the London Missionary Society, July 10th, 1818, having been received on the 25th of June.

“Paramatta, Dec. 9, 1817.

“Rev. Sir,—I wrote to you very fully by Mr. Hassall, and informed you what state I was in at that time. Since that period I have had many hard struggles to maintain my ground. A very shameful attack was made upon me and the missionaries in the South Sea Islands by the governor’s secretary, in an anonymous letter which he published in the Sydney Gazette, and of which you are already informed. Since my last I have brought the secretary to the criminal bar for the libel. Every means were used to pervert judgment that the cunning and art of certain persons could exert. After three days’ contest, I obtained a verdict against the secretary. This was a matter of much joy to all who loved the cause of religion, and also to the colony in general. The trouble, anxiety, and expense of the trial were very great, as I had only truth on my side. When I had got a verdict I hoped to enjoy a little quiet, but the next Gazette in the report made of the trial, being so false and scandalous, and casting such reflections on me and my friends, I was compelled to appeal to Cæsar once more; and last Tuesday the cause was heard before the supreme court, when I obtained a verdict again. The supreme judge, Justice Field, is a very upright man, and acted with great independence in the cause. A verdict was given in my favour to the amount of 200l., with costs. The expense to the secretary will not be much less than 500l. None can tell what I have suffered in my mind for the last five years, on account of the missions, from the opposition of those in power.

“I must request the Society to use their interest with the British government to check those in authority here from exposing the missionaries, and those connected with them, to the contempt of the whole world by such scandalous anonymous publications as that of which I complain. I have been very anxious to leave the colony altogether, from the continual anxiety I have suffered, and the opposition thrown in the way of every measure I have wished to promote, for the advancement of the kingdom of Christ among the heathen.”

Yet he had, in truth, no ground for this despondency. St. Paul laid the foundations of flourishing churches amidst “a great fight of afflictions;” what wonder if one of the greatest of Protestant missions in a later age should share in trials from which “the churches in Macedonia and Achaia” were not exempt? The letter proceeds thus:

“I am very happy to inform you that all goes on well at the Islands, notwithstanding the contests here. I have forwarded to you, by this conveyance, all the letters; from them you will learn the affairs of the missionaries: I hope all the brethren have joined them. Four thousand of the natives can now read. I send you one of Pomare’s letters to me. Mr. John Eyre has translated it. You will see what the views of the king are. He is now writing a dictionary of his own language, and one of the chiefs is employed at the press. I am very sorry they did not meet the king’s wishes with regard to the printing press, and set it up at Tahiti, where he lives; taking it away from him was unwise.... The main work is done now, as far as respects the planting of the gospel. Their native idols are burned in the fire, and many have ‘tasted that the Lord is gracious’ amongst the inhabitants. They sing, and read, and pray, and teach one another, so that there can be no fear that religion will be lost in the Islands again. The work has evidently been of God, and he will carry it on for his own glory. They will now also have their vessel, by which means they can visit the different islands and Port Jackson. I should wish much to see them turning their attention to agriculture, etc., so as to induce habits of industry among the natives, so that the natives of the Society Islands may rank with civilized nations.” The letter closes, after a minute detail of the affairs of their missions, with an appeal, which, even at this distance of time, must be read with pain, and which nothing short of mental agony would have wrung from such a pen. “I rely with confidence on the Society for their support and protection. Unless his Majesty’s ministers will interfere, I may expect similar attacks from the same quarter. If this should be the case, it cannot be expected I should remain in the colony to be ruined in my character, circumstances, and peace of mind. The last seven years have been very dreadful. A solitary individual cannot withstand the influence of those in power, armed with such a deadly weapon as the public papers, and every other means of annoyance at their command. I have written on the subject to Lord Bathurst....

“I remain, rev. Sir, yours affectionately,
“Samuel Marsden.

“To Rev. George Burder.”

In the same strain he writes to his friend Dr. Mason Good, inclosing the letter of Philo-free, and other documents. Amongst other threats, representations to the archbishop and the bishop of London had been muttered in the colony, with a view no doubt of inducing them to withdraw him from his post. “Should you learn,” he says, “that any representations are made to the bishops, and you should deem it necessary, I will thank you to send them the documents I have transmitted, or any part of them, for their information. I should also wish Mr. Wilberforce to be acquainted with them, if you will at any time take the trouble to lay them before him.” Then turning to brighter objects, he has the following remarkable passage:

“With regard to New Zealand, I must refer you to the Rev. Josiah Pratt, (secretary to the Church Missionary Society). Great difficulties have opposed the establishment upon that island; but I hope they will all be overcome in time. We have sent two young men to England, as we think this will greatly tend to enlarge their ideas, and prepare them for greater usefulness in their own country. I have no doubt, but that New Zealand will soon become a civilized nation. If I were inclined to become a prophet I should say, that all the islands in the South Seas will afford an asylum for thousands of Europeans hereafter, and New South Wales will give laws to, and regulate, all their governments in the course of time. The gospel, humanly speaking, could not be planted in the South Sea Islands, unless our government had established a colony in New South Wales. The British government had no view of this kind when they first formed the colony. How mysterious are all the ways of Divine Providence! yet may the Divine footsteps be traced, if we mark attentively what is passing in the world. God, the Governor of this world, orders all things according to his infinite mind, and all things well.”

He soon had reason to adopt a happier strain. The trial was severe, the more so perhaps from the ardour of his own temperament, which, no doubt, required the chastisement, which became in the highest sense a blessing both to himself and others. Writing to the same friend, 3rd October, 1818, he says: “When I take a retrospect of all that has passed in this colony since my return, I see, with wonder and gratitude, the Divine goodness overruling the wills and affections of sinful men, and making all things unite in promoting his glory. ‘Philo-free’ will not be without its benefit to the great cause. Had this libel never appeared, the character, constitution and object of the Church, and London Missionary Societies would not have been known in this settlement for many years to come; nor would they have gained the friends which they will eventually do here.”

Letters of congratulation flowed in rapidly, both on account of his missionary exploits in New Zealand, and of his personal triumph in New South Wales. We can afford only to give a specimen of each; the one to show how the successes of the gospel thrilled English Christians with joy in the infancy of missions; and the other to exhibit the warm affection with which the great missionary leader of the southern seas was regarded by his friends at home.

“Hull, 7th May, 1817.

“From William Terry, Esq.,

...“The account, you gave in your letter, as well as those sent to the Church Missionary Society, which appeared in the Missionary Register, were very gratifying to all who have at heart the prosperity of Zion. I have felt peculiarly interested in the journal of your voyage to New Zealand, and when at our (St. John’s) church the Old Hundredth Psalm was sung, I felt much elevated in praise to our Almighty Saviour, that at the same period of the year, and exactly two years before, you had been enabled to proclaim the glad tidings of his salvation, and to commence with the same divine song upon the heathen shores of New Zealand. God grant that it may be the dawn of a brighter day: that the Lord of all may be adored by all the uncivilized world; that the Sun of righteousness may arise and go on to shine with increasing and transforming light and influence upon them, and upon all others who are yet sitting in darkness and in the shadow of death! May he bless all human attempts to promote so glorious a cause, and particularly your own zealous efforts; and may he, for the sake of the same, continue, if it please him, your valuable life for many years to come. I know, from the arduous post which you occupy, that your time must be entirely filled up, and that you can find very little leisure for a correspondent like me, who can render you little or no service.... Our esteemed friends, the Rev. Messrs. Dykes, Scott, Clarke, and Foster, are all very well, being in mercy continued yet to this highly favoured town. Mr. Scott has obtained the living of St. Margaret’s since the death of Mr. Barker, and has engaged an excellent curate, a young man of high birth of the name of Sibthorpe, who seems very faithful, and will, I hope, be abundantly useful. May the Lord bless you and your young family with all temporal and spiritual blessings! And may he bless and direct all your zealous endeavours to promote his cause among the heathen, and to spread the knowledge and saving influence of his truth to all within your influence!”

Dr. Mason Good, writing on the subject of the libel, under the date of April, 1818, says: “The triumph you have gained is indeed complete ... persevere, then, my dear friend, in the same good and great and magnanimous course. The eyes of the world are upon you, and what is more, the eye of Him who governs the world, and will never fail to give efficacy to his own instruments, and ultimate success to his designs. To this time, however, notwithstanding all the terrible threats that have been thrown out against you, not a single syllable of complaint has arrived from any one; do not therefore let your spirits fail. Depend upon esteem and support at home, for your perseverance and manly conduct have produced a very deep and popular sensation in every quarter in which you would wish to stand well.”

In addition to these gratifying testimonies from home, Mr. Marsden received a public mark of approbation from the officers of the 46th regiment, then stationed in the colony, who with a high and chivalrous sense of what was due to one who single handed had so long maintained the cause of truth and righteousness, stepped forward to offer their tribute of respect. He replied as follows:—

“To Col. Molle and the officers of the 46th regiment.

“Paramatta, 16th Oct. 1818.

“Gentlemen,—I had the honour to receive your public letter under date 14th May, 1818, and nothing could have given me more real gratification than the very handsome manner in which you have communicated your kind and friendly sentiments to me on the issue of the trials I instituted against the author of the libel, ‘Philo-free.’ I beg, gentlemen, to return you my most grateful acknowledgments for the honour you have done me, and to assure you that this mark of your good will to me, in bearing your testimony to my conduct, will ever be held in the highest estimation by me; and I trust I shall retain to the latest moment of my life a grateful sense of your favour to me as an individual, and at the same time never forget the public service you rendered to this colony from the time you landed to the day of your departure, by your firmness and gentlemanly conduct, as British officers, and by your good and prudent example as members of the community.” After these expressions of gratitude he turns aside to remark upon the former condition of the colony, and the services which the 46th regiment had rendered in the cause of virtue. Proud as this regiment may justly be of honours won in far different scenes, it will not, we are assured, nor will its countrymen, regard with other feelings than those of high satisfaction, the following tribute to its moral worth and character. May every regiment in the British army deserve a similar eulogy from men who, like Job of old, and we may add, like the chaplain of New South Wales, ‘know not to give flattering titles.’

“When you first arrived in New South Wales every barrier against licentiousness was broken down, every fence swept away. There were a few, and but a few, who resolved to stand their ground, and preserve that line of conduct which the wisest and best men consider essential as marking the distinction between the good and the evil.”

And again: “Had you not arrived in New South Wales and acted the honourable part you did, the few who were marked for future conquest would not have been able to have stood out longer, but must have either yielded to superior force, or have withdrawn from the colony. Some would not have had strength of mind sufficient to have carried on a perpetual warfare against such an unequal force, and thus would not have been able to meet the expense of continued resistance. You just arrived in time to turn the wavering balance, and to inspire the desponding with hopes.”

A vote of thanks, in the most cordial terms, was also presented to him at the anniversary meeting of the Church Missionary Society, at the Freemasons’ Tavern, in 1819. It would have been presented to the annual meeting of the previous year, but it was a mark of respect which had never yet been paid to any individual by the Society. “The circumstances, however, which have lately transpired,” so writes his friend, Dr. Mason Good, who was a member of the committee, “the severe and important battle you have fought, and the triumph you have so gloriously achieved, have induced the Society to step out of their usual routine on this occasion, and to show, not only to yourself, but to the world at large, the full sense they entertain of the honourable and upright part you have taken, and their unanimous determination to give you all their support. I agree with you most fully that your contest has not been a personal one, but that the important objects of the Society have been at stake, and that the victory you have obtained is of more importance to the cause of virtue, honour, and true religion, and more especially to the cause of Christian missions in Australasia, than to yourself.”

We shall conclude our notice of these painful conflicts with two letters, the one from Lord Gambier, the other from the venerable Simeon. The former breathes the warm heart of a sailor and the mature wisdom of an experienced Christian. And thus while British soldiers were ready to acknowledge the integrity of Mr. Marsden, the navy, as represented by one of her great heroes, stood forward likewise in his behalf.

“Dear Sir,—I was happy to hear of your health and welfare by your letters to me of the 22nd January and the 5th March, 1817, which came to my hands in due time, though they were rather longer, I believe, in their passage than is usual. I deeply lament with you that your very zealous and arduous exertions to extend the kingdom of our gracious Lord, and to diffuse the knowledge of the glorious gospel of salvation among the inhabitants of the dark regions around you, should meet with the spirit of opposition from the persons in the colony whom you naturally would look to for support and assistance. And very grievous indeed it is that you should stand almost alone and single in a work of charity that exceeds the praises of human language to express its excellence and blessed effects upon the race of mankind. Mr. Pratt will have informed you that a special meeting of the committee of the Church Missionary Society was held last month for the sole purpose of deliberating upon the communication you have made to him of the state of the affairs of the Society, and the disgraceful letter that appeared in the ‘Sydney Gazette,’ signed ‘Philo-free.’ The result of the committee’s consultation was, that your letters on this subject should be referred to the consideration of the vice-presidents of the Society, requesting them to take such measures as they deemed most advisable to relieve you from the distressing and painful situation in which you were placed. I had the satisfaction of being present at the meeting of the vice-presidents; the bishop of Gloucester and Mr. Wilberforce were of the number. Mr. Pratt was also present, and as he will communicate to you the judgment that we passed upon the occasion it is unnecessary for me to add anything thereto; but I cannot forbear to express to you the admiration I entertain of your conduct, your zeal, perseverance, and unremitted exertions in the blessed and glorious cause in which you are engaged. May our gracious Lord be your shield; may his powerful arm protect you against all your adversaries, and enable you to overcome them all with the weapons of a Christian warfare, meekness, patience, faith, and charity; and may he lay them all at your feet.! May his grace be sufficient for you, and give you strength to go on as you have done in his service, to the glory of his name and to the salvation of the heathen nations around! You have achieved great things in New Zealand. May the seed you have sown there be like the grain of mustard, and grow to a large tree; and may you finally receive the bright reward of your labours, and have that blessing pronounced upon you, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.’ There is a fine field for missionary labours in New Zealand, and I anticipate the happiest consequences to the race of men in that country from the establishment you have made among them, and I think it very probable that they will make more rapid progress in the knowledge and practice of Christianity and civilization than any heathen nation to whom the gospel has been preached. May you live to see this verified!

“With cordial and earnest wishes for your health and prosperity, I remain, dear Sir, with sincere regard,

“Your faithful and humble friend and servant,

“Gambier.”

Mr. Simeon, of Cambridge, wrote to him in the same strain of encouragement:—

“Dec. 15, 1819.

“Last summer I was at Hull, and saw Mr. Scott and other of your friends and relatives. It was a joy to me to see how ardent was their love towards you. I commissioned Mrs. Scott to tell you, in general terms, that your character and cause were duly appreciated by the government and by the House of Commons. I take for granted that Mr. Wilberforce has given you particulars. It was from him that I was enabled to declare the general result.

“I am overwhelmed almost with work. Eleven volumes will be out in the spring. The first six will make their appearance in less than a month; it is of the same nature as my former work, though distinct from it. It is on all the finest passages from Genesis to Revelation. It is entitled ‘Horæ Homileticæ,’ as being homilies for the assistance both of clergy and laity.”

In this age of “reformatories,” when the treatment of our prisoners has become a popular question, it is impossible to read without deep interest such letters as the following. Mr. Marsden had taken up the cause of the degraded female prisoners in New South Wales. Mrs. Fry in England hears of his benevolent exertions, and hastens to express her joy; and thus she writes to the prison-philanthropist of the southern world:—

“Mildred’s Court, second month, 11th, 1820.

“Respected Friend,—I have received thy letters, one sent by Deputy-commissary-general Allan, and the other written some time before, but only arrived within a day or two of each other. I am sorry that I happened to be out when Deputy-commissary-general Allan called, but I hope soon to see him, and to consult with him as to the steps best to be taken to improve the condition of the female convicts in New South Wales. Much influence has already been used here, and the subject has been brought before the House of Commons. I some time ago obtained a copy of thy letter to the governor of New South Wales, and the information contained in it has been much spread in this country, and it is quite my opinion that some beneficial alterations will in time take place; but the present parliament being so soon to be dissolved, owing to the death of the king, I fear will retard their progress; but much is doing in this country, and I trust that much is likely to be done. Many of us are deeply interested in the welfare of the poor convicts as to their situation here, and their voyage, and when they arrive in Botany Bay. And if life and ability be granted us, I trust that much will in time be accomplished; but all these things require patience and perseverance, which I hope we shall be endowed with, both here and on your side of the water. I am sorry thou hast had so many trials and discouragements in filling thy very important station, and I cannot help hoping and believing that thy labours will prove not to be in vain; and even if thou shouldst not fully see the fruit of thy labours, others, I trust, will reap the advantage of them, so that the words of Scripture may be verified, ‘That both he that soweth and he that reapeth may rejoice together.’ I consider myself greatly obliged by thy valuable communications, and I think it would be very desirable that thou shouldst let us know exactly what sort of place is wanted for the women, and what would be its probable expense, as it would enable us more clearly to state what we wish for. And I should think our government would give the necessary directions to have the work done. I remain, etc., thy friend, Elizabeth Fry.”

Through such toils and conflicts our predecessors of the last generation passed, before they could lay effectually the foundations of those great principles of humanity and justice in the public mind, which are now yielding their abundant fruit.

CHAPTER VIII.

Tooi and Teterree—Mr. Marsden’s Second Voyage to New Zealand—Progress of the Gospel there—Shunghie—His ferocity—Mr. Marsden returns to New South Wales—Third Voyage to New Zealand—Malicious charges brought against him in his absence—A Commission of Inquiry—Its result—Letters, etc.—Approbation of the Government.

The New Zealand mission still continued to occupy Mr. Marsden’s thoughts. He seems to have been always alert, turning every hint to account, seizing every occasion and employing every likely instrument to promote the grand design. The excellent quality of the New Zealand flax had not escaped him. He induced two young New Zealanders, whom he had brought with him to Paramatta, to visit England, which they did in H. M. ship Kangaroo, and were placed under the care of his friends in London. “I wish on no account,” he writes to Mr. Pratt, “that they should be idle; if they cannot be useful in forming a vocabulary, (of the Maori language of which he was now anxious that a grammar should be prepared) let them be put into a rope walk, and be kept close to labour while they remain in England.” They were both chieftains, Tooi and Teterree; still the reader must not suppose the rope walk was to them a degrading employment. Mr. Marsden had another object in view besides their improvement, and he wished to impart to his friends in London something of his own enthusiasm in behalf of the Maorie race. “The Society will see,” he says in his letter to the secretary, Mr. Pratt, “from these two young men what the natives of New Zealand are. They are prepared to receive any instruction that we can give them; they are fine young men, and in temper and natural parts very like their countrymen in general.” They seem to have deserved the character here given them. We insert a letter from each, written while they were in England. The first is addressed to Mr. Pratt while Tooi was on a visit amongst the manufactories of Staffordshire and Shropshire.

“Madeley, Sept. 17, 1818.

“Dear Sir,—I am much obliged and thank you, Mr. Pratt, for the letter you sent me. I so pleased when Mr. Pratt finds a ship. I want a ship to go home. I have been to Coalport. I made four cups. Mr. Rose tell me, ‘You soon learn.’ ‘Yes,’ I say, ‘very soon learn with fingers, but book very hard,’ etc.

“To Mr. Pratt.

Thomas Tooi.”

The other letter is in a graver strain from Teterreeto Mr. Marsden.

“Church Missionary House, October 12, 1818.

“My dear Friend,—I like Englishman much; he love New Zealand man. I very sick in missionary house, and very near die; nothing but bone. Kind friend missionary pray for me every night.

“I kneel down in my bed-room every night, and pray to Jesus Christ our Saviour to learn me to read the book.

“Very nice country England. I never see the king of England; he very poorly, and Queen Charlotte very poorly too.

“I see the iron make, and bottle blow. Tooi blow a bottle, and I blow a bottle. I make four cups at China work, etc. Farewell, good friend.

“Teteree.”

Their English education being completed, the young chieftains returned to Paramatta, and Mr. Marsden embarked a second time for New Zealand, taking Tooi and Teterree with him, with several missionaries, three mechanics and their families. They landed at Rangheehoa, in the Bay of Islands, on the 12th August. The rival chiefs Shunghie and Koro-Koro now contended for the site of the new missionary settlement which Mr. Marsden contemplated, each being anxious that his own domain should be preferred, and offering a grant of land. The spot was selected at Kiddee Kiddee (or Keri-Keri) a district in the territory of Shunghie, at the head of a fine harbour; but such was the distress of the disappointed chieftain, whose part was taken by young Tooi, that Mr. Marsden almost relented: “He made strong appeals to our feelings, and urged his request by every argument that he could advance, so that we were obliged to promise to accompany him on the next day to Parroa, and that we would build him and Tooi a house if the situation pleased us, and send one or two Europeans to reside amongst them.” The stores were now landed, and all the beach exhibited a scene of happiness and busy civilization; fourteen natives sawing timber, others cutting knees, etc.; “a sight more grateful to a benevolent mind could not possibly have been seen; our hearts overflowed with gratitude. We viewed the various operations with delight, and considered them the dawn of civil and religious liberty to this land of darkness, superstition, and cruelty.” Such were the comments which the missionary leader noted down at the time, and in reading them we are made to feel how much Christian benevolence excels the mere selfishness of the most enterprising colonist. Simply for the good of others, without the hope or wish of reaping any other advantage than that of extending the kingdom of God amongst a savage race, the little missionary band, self exiled, and consecrated to a life of unknown toil and hardship, exult in laying the foundations of their settlement, as the Jews of old exulted when they began to build their temple to the living God. On the next sabbath day, the work was consecrated with prayer and praise. Mr. Marsden’s simple language best describes the scene:—

“August 22.—We assembled on the beach for public worship, as there was no place sufficiently spacious to hold the people. We were surrounded with natives and a number of chiefs from different districts.

“It was gratifying to be able to perform worship to the true God in the open air, without fear or danger, when surrounded by cannibals with their spears stuck in the ground, and their pattoo-pattoos and daggers concealed under their mats. We could not doubt but that the time was at hand for gathering in this noble people into the fold of Christ. Their misery is extreme, the prince of darkness has full dominion over their souls and bodies; under the influence of ignorance and superstition many devote themselves to death, and the chiefs sacrifice their slaves as a satisfaction for the death of any of their friends. This is a tyranny from which nothing but the gospel can set them free.”

THE BAY OF ISLANDS, NEW ZEALAND

During this three months’ sojourn, besides the attention which Mr. Marsden gave to the missions in the Bay of Islands, he made a circuitous journey of seven hundred miles, exploring the country with a view to more extensive operations. His arrival over land and in health, at the Bay of Islands, on his return,relieved the minds of his anxious friends the missionaries, and “gave them additional cause,” they say, “to bless and thank God for his protecting care, and that he had again heard and answered our supplications.” “There is not one in ten thousand, I think,” writes Mr. Hall, “who could or would have borne the privations, difficulties, and dangers, which he has undergone. I pray that he may reap the fruits of his labour by the New Zealanders turning from their degraded state to serve the only living and true God.” Mr. Marsden’s journal of this second visit will be valuable in time to come, as perhaps the best record in existence of the character and habits of a wonderful people, on whom civilization had not yet dawned, and whose spiritual darkness was profound. He landed, during a coasting voyage, with young Tooi, on the small island of Motooroa. “The first object that struck my eye was a man’s head stuck on a pole near the hut where we were to sleep; the face appeared beautifully tattooed; it was the head of a chief who was killed by Shunghie’s people. The sight,” he says, “naturally excited feelings of horror in my breast.” Most men would have felt something of alarm. But Mr. Marsden seems to have been a perfect stranger to fear; and if courage, whether physical or moral, makes a hero, he must be ranked high in the heroic class. He merely adds, “This caused me to value more and more the blessing of Divine revelation, and the blessing of civil government.”

In his journal on a tour to the River Shukeangha, he writes thus:

“September 28, 1819.—After we had passed the swamp, we came into a very open country, for many miles round covered with fern. The part through which we walked was gravelly, and not very good in general.

“The wind increased toward evening, and blew strong from the rainy quarter, so that we had the prospect of a very wet night, without a single tree to shelter us from the storm for about eight miles from the swamp we had passed. At this distance was a wood, through which our road lay, which we were anxious to reach, if possible, in order to shelter ourselves from the wind and rain. With this hope we pushed forward, and arrived at the edge of the wood about nine o’clock. The rain now began to fall heavily. The natives cut branches of fern and boughs of trees, and made us a little shed under the trees, to afford us some shelter. The blackness of the heavens, the gloomy darkness of the wood, the roaring of the wind among the trees, the sound of the falling rain on the thick foliage, united with the idea that we were literally at the ends of the earth, with relation to our native land, surrounded with cannibals whom we knew to have fed on human flesh, and wholly in their power, and yet our minds free from fear of danger—all this excited in my breast such new, pleasing, and, at the same time, opposite sensations, as I cannot describe.

“While I sat musing under the shelter of a lofty pine, my thoughts were lost in wonder and surprise, in taking a view of the wisdom and goodness of God’s providential care, which had attended all my steps to that very hour. If busy imagination inquired what I did there, I had no answer to seek in wild conjecture: I felt with gratitude that I had not come by chance; but had been sent to labour in preparing the way of the Lord in this dreary wilderness, where the voice of joy and gladness had never been heard: and I could not but anticipate with joyful hope the period when the Day-star from on high would dawn and shine on this dark and heathen land, and cause the very earth on which we then reposed to bring forth its increase, when God himself would give the poor inhabitants his blessing. After reflecting on the different ideas which crowded themselves upon my mind, I wrapped myself up in my great coat, and lay down to sleep.”

He visited an island where he met with a singular spectacle. A number of natives were at work, breaking up the ground with a sort of spatula, or wooden spade, to plant their sweet potato. Amongst these was Koro-Koro’s head wife, or queen. “Her Majesty was working hard with a wooden spade, digging the ground for potatoes, with several of the women and some men.” The royal infant lay on the ground sprawling and kicking by her side; “the old queen earnestly requested that I would give her a hoe, showing me the difficulty she had in digging with a stick; a request with which I promised to comply.” We leave the reader to admire at leisure the Homeric simplicity of the scene, or to indulge in those sentiments of contemptuous pity to which Englishmen are possibly more prone.

In another place, he found the head wife of Shunghie, though perfectly blind, digging in the same manner, surrounded by her women, and apparently with as much ease as the rest. The offer of a hoe in exchange for her spatula was accepted with joy. The scene drew forth these reflections: “When we viewed the wife of one of the most military chiefs, possessing large territories, digging with a spatula for her subsistence, this sight kindled within us the best feelings of the human heart. If a woman of this character, and blind, can thus labour with her servants, what will not this people rise to, if they can procure the means of improving their country, and of bettering their condition? Their temporal state must be improved by agriculture and the simple arts, in connexion with the introduction of Christianity, in order to give permanence and full influence to the gospel among them. Our God and Saviour, who is loving to every man, and whose tender mercies are over all his works, is now, blessed be his name, moving the hearts of his servants to send relief to the poor heathen, even to the very ends of the earth.”

The journal affords us repeated evidences of a phenomenon, which recent occurrences in India have at this moment deeply impressed on the heart of England,—one with which both divines and legislators ought to have been acquainted (for it is not obscurely referred to in the word of God), but which a foolish and spurious benevolence has led many to deny—namely, that the most Satanic ferocity frequently lurks under gentle manners, and is even to be found in connexion with the warmest natural affection. Nothing, for instance, can be more affecting than the meeting of Tooi and his sister, after the absence of the former in England. Tooi himself anticipated a scene, and half ashamed, when he saw his sister at a distance, tried to avoid the interview in public, and requested Mr. Marsden to order off the canoe in which they were approaching. But her love could not be restrained; in an instant she sprang into the boat, fell on her knees, and clung to Tooi. He saluted her in return; when she gave vent to her feelings in tears and loud lamentations, which she continued for about an hour. “Tooi conducted himself with great propriety, suppressing all his wild feelings, and at the same time treating his sister with all the soft and tender feelings of nature. I could not but view his conduct with admiration.” When Tooi was in England, he had been taught to read and write, and instructed in the doctrines of Christianity; and he and his companion Teterree were general favourites, from their gentle manners and quick intelligence. They were one day taken to St. Paul’s by Mr. Nicholas, who naturally supposed they would be lost in astonishment at the grandeur of the building, but they expressed neither surprise nor pleasure; on which that gentleman makes this just remark; “It is only things of common occurrence, I suspect, that strike the mind of a savage. The faculties must be cultivated to fit them for the enjoyment of the beautiful or the sublime.” One thing, however, did strike them, and caused no small excitement. In walking up Fleet-street, they suddenly stopped before a hair-dresser’s shop, in the window of which were some female busts. They screamed out “Wyenee! Wyenee!” (Women! Women!) taking them for dried heads of the human subject. “I took some pains,” adds their kind conductor, “to beat this notion out of them, lest they should tell their countrymen on their return that Europeans preserved human heads as well as New Zealanders.”

These bursts of feeling were, it seems, quite natural; intense sorrow or savage exultation, the extremes of tenderness and of brutality, were indulged by turns, without any suspicion on their part of insincerity in either. Immediately after, Mr. Marsden mentions that he passed a canoe in which he recognised an old acquaintance, Hooratookie, the first New Zealander introduced into civil society—Governor King having once entertained him with great kindness. Hooratookie was grateful; spoke of the governor’s daughter, then a child, with unfeigned regard, calling her by her Christian name, Maria. But looking into his large war-canoe, capable of holding from sixty to eighty men, with provisions, Mr. Marsden observed on the stern the dried head of a chief. “The face was as natural as life, the hair was long, and every lock combed straight, and the whole brought up to the crown, tied in a knot, and ornamented with feathers, according to the custom of the chiefs when in full dress. It was placed there as an incentive to revenge. It is possible the death of this chief may be revenged by his children’s children; hence the foundation is laid for new acts of cruelty and blood from generation to generation.”

Mr. Marsden’s fame now preceded him, and wherever he went, he was received not with rude hospitality, but with courteous respect. One chieftain offered up an ovation and prayer on their arrival. “He invoked the heavens above and the earth beneath to render our visit advantageous to his people, and agreeable to us, and that no harm may happen to us, whom he esteemed as the gods of another country. We heard the profane adulations with silent grief, and could not but wish most ardently for the light of Divine truth to shine on such a dark and superstitious mind.” Yet this man was a ferocious cannibal; and when Mr. Marsden expressed his anxiety for the safety of the missionaries after he should have left them, he was calmed by the assurance that, as we had done them no harm, they had no satisfaction to demand, “and that as for eating us, the flesh of a New Zealander was sweeter than that of an European, in consequence of the white people eating so much salt.” From this the conversation turned to that of eating human flesh, which they defended with arguments which to them appeared, no doubt, perfectly conclusive. They alleged that fishes, animals, and birds, preyed upon each other; and that one god would devour another god, therefore there was in nature sufficient warrant for the practice. Shunghie explained how it was the gods preyed on each other, “and that when he was to the southward, and had killed a number of people and was afraid of their god, he caught their god, being a reptile, and ate part of it, and reserved the remainder for his friends.”

Shunghie, the greatest of New Zealand warriors, was at the same time a striking instance of that union of gentleness and ferocity which characterized this people. To the missionaries his kindness was always great, and his respect for Mr. Marsden knew no bounds. An instance of his good feeling may here be noticed. In the beginning of 1817, a naval expedition, under his command, sailed from the Bay of Islands. It consisted of thirty canoes, and about eight hundred men. Its object was to obtain peace with his enemies at the North Cape. The chief took an affectionate leave of the settlers, and told them that if he fell they must be kind to his children; and if he survived, he would take care of their families when they should die. The expedition returned, however, in about a fortnight, his people having quarrelled with those of Wangaroa, into which place they had put for refreshment; and being afraid, he said, that the Wangaroa people would attack the settlers in his absence, he, for the present, abandoned the expedition.

Shunghie was again preparing for war when Mr. Marsden paid his second visit to New Zealand; his army, to the number of several thousand men, were already assembled; his war-canoes were ready, and all his preparations complete; yet in deference to the remonstrances of Mr. Marsden, he again abandoned his scheme of conquest or revenge, and dismissed his followers.

Shunghie paid a visit to England about the year 1820. His majestic person, graceful manners, and gentle yet manly disposition were much admired. He was one of Nature’s nobles; what might not be expected from such a man when he returned home again? George the Fourth invited him to Carlton Palace, and received him with marked attention, presenting him with some military accoutrements and costly fire-arms. Yet the heart of a savage never ceased to beat beneath this polished exterior, while his pride was fanned to madness by the consideration he received in England. “There is,” he exclaimed, “but one king in England; there shall be only one king in New Zealand.” Returning by way of Sydney he there happened to meet with Inacki, another chief, with whom he had an ancient feud. He told him that when they got back to New Zealand he would fight him. Inacki accepted the challenge, and Shunghie accordingly assembled, on his return to New Zealand, no fewer than two thousand men to attack Inacki. The latter was prepared to receive him, and for some time the event of the battle that ensued was doubtful. At length Shunghie, who had the greatest number of muskets, and who had arranged his men in the form called, in Roman tactics, the cuneus, or wedge, placing himself at the apex and directing those behind him to wheel round the enemy, from the right and left, or to fall back into their original position as opportunity offered, shot Inacki. The savage Shunghie immediately sprang forward, scooped out the eye of the dying man with his knife, and swallowed it; and then, holding his hands to his throat, into which he had plunged his knife, and from which the blood flowed copiously, drank as much of the horrid beverage as the two hands could hold. Amongst the horrible superstitions of the Maories, one was that the eye of a victim thus devoured became a star in the firmament, and thus the ferocious Shunghie sought for honour and immortality. With the sword which he had received as a present from King George in England, he immediately cut off the heads of sixteen of his captives in cold blood; this was done to appease the spirit of his son-in-law, who had fallen in battle. In this battle, Shunghie and his tribe were armed with muskets, his opponents only with the native weapons, the club and spear. His victory, therefore, was an easy one, but his revenge was cruel. A New Zealand traveller, who visited the spot in 1844, says: “The bones of two thousand men still lie whitening on the plain, and the ovens remain in which the flesh of the slaughtered was cooked for the horrible repasts of the victorious party, and yet so numerous were the slaves taken prisoners that the Nga-Puis (the tribe of which Shunghie was the head) killed many of them on their way to the Bay of Islands merely to get rid of them.”[I] Such was the gentle Shunghie when his viler nature was let loose—a frightful specimen of human nature, varnished by education, but unvisited by the grace of God. We turn aside for a moment to describe a scene in bright contrast with these revolting details. Amongst the few who escaped the general slaughter was Koromona, a chief who became blind soon afterwards, but hearing archdeacon W. Williams preach at Matamata, was converted. “For the last four years,” says the traveller above mentioned, “Koromona has been a native teacher, and may be seen every sabbath day with his class instructing them in the truths of the Scripture with an earnestness which is truly admirable; he is now about to start to preach Christianity to a tribe which has not yet received it. His memory is wonderful; he knows the whole of the church service by heart, and repeats hymns and many long chapters verbatim.” Thus the gospel won its victorious way, and proved itself triumphant over hearts no less depraved and passions no less degraded than those of Shunghie himself. No earthly power could have effected such a change; it was wrought by that “gospel” which is truly “the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth.”

Amidst such scenes the missionaries dwelt in peace. War, and its inseparable and more hideous companion, cannibalism, showed themselves at their gates, but were not allowed to hurt them. Under the good providence of God, their security was owing, in a great measure, to the prudence and courage with which Mr. Marsden planned and carried out his projects. Himself a stranger to fear, he infused courage into those around him, and both he and they felt secure under the shield and buckler of the Almighty. No doubt the fearlessness of Mr. Marsden won the admiration of these savages and contributed not a little to his safety. His journal abounds in instances such as that which follows. The scene is in a Maori village, and the writer is surrounded with cannibals. “After conversing on several subjects, we had supper, sung a hymn, and then committed ourselves to the Angel of the everlasting covenant, and so lay down to rest; a number of the natives lay around the hut and some within. I slept well until daybreak, being weary with walking.”

He appears to have arrived at home, after this second visit to New Zealand, towards the close of November, 1819. In February, 1820, he was once more on his way back to New Zealand. His letters bear ample testimony to a fact which all who were acquainted with him in private life observed, that his heart was full of affection, and that his home was the scene of his greatest happiness. He had not returned, it is true, to be greeted with public honours; on the contrary, he was still a marked man. The governor and many of the leading men in the colony were prejudiced against him. We believe it is to this period of his life that an anecdote which we give on the best possible authority belongs. The governor had consented to his recent visit to New Zealand with reluctance, and had limited the period of his absence with military precision, threatening at the same time to deprive him of his chaplaincy unless he returned within the given time. The last day arrived, and the expected vessel was not in sight. The governor repeated his determination to those around him, and Mr. Marsden’s friends were filled with anxiety, and his wife and family at length gave up all hope. Towards evening the long-wished-for sail appeared in the offing, and at eight o’clock in the evening Mr. Marsden quietly walked into the governor’s drawing-room with the laconic and yet respectful address, “Sir, I am here to report myself.” But within the bosom of his family all was peace, and his presence shed light and joy on everything around him. His circumstances were prosperous—for his farm, which was almost entirely committed to Mrs. Marsden’s care, was now a source of considerable income; his children were growing up to manhood under their parents’ roof; his circle of friends and visitors was large, for there were no bounds to his simple hospitality; and the clergy of the colony, men like minded with himself, had now begun to regard him not only with affection, but with the reverence which belongs to years and wisdom and wide experience.

Yet at the call of duty this veteran was ready, on the shortest notice, to resume a life of such toil and hardship as nothing could have rendered welcome, its novelty once over, but motives the most solemn and commanding. H.M.S. Dromedary, Captain Skinner, was directed by government to proceed from Sydney to the Bay of Islands to receive a cargo of New Zealand timber for trial in the dockyards of England; and Sir Byam Martin, controller of the navy, knowing something of the energy of Mr. Marsden’s character, and his great acquaintance with New Zealand, requested that he would accompany the Dromedary, which was joined by the Coromandel, in order to facilitate the object of their visit. With this request he felt it his duty to comply. He arrived in New Zealand on the 20th of February, and embarked on board the Dromedary to return on the 25th of November. Thus nearly the whole year was given to the service of New Zealand.

The time was not lost. On his arrival, a difficulty occurred which he only could have set at rest. The natives had come to the determination to exchange nothing, nor to do any kind of work, except for muskets and powder. His first business was to assemble the few European settlers, the advanced guard of that mighty band of European colonists which was soon to follow, and to persuade them not on any account to supply the natives with these weapons of war, in their hands so sure a source of mischief. With regard to the duty of the missionaries there could be no doubt; and this he explained to all the powerful chiefs. They had come among them to preach the gospel of peace, how then could they be expected to furnish the means and implements of destruction? In writing to the Missionary Society at home he says, and he must have written such a sentence with an aching heart, “I think it much more to the honour of religion and the good of New Zealand even to give up the mission for the present, than to trade with the natives in those articles.”

After a short time spent in the Bay of Islands, at the mission, he proceeded, sometimes in company with Europeans, but for the most part alone, upon a tour of many hundred miles through regions yet untrodden by the foot of civilized men, mingling with the native tribes, accompanying them in their wanderings from place to place, teaching the first lessons of civilization and gospel truth, and receiving everywhere from these savages the kindest attention and the most hospitable welcome in return.

On their way to Tourangha, he writes, under the date of June 20: “The day was far spent when we reached the plain. We walked on till the sun was nearly set, when we stopped and prepared for the night. The servants, who had the provisions to carry, were very tired. There were no huts on the plain, nor any inhabitants, and we were therefore compelled to take up our lodging in the open air. I was very weary, having had no rest the preceding night; and having come a long day’s journey, so that I felt that rest would be very acceptable, even on a heap of fern or anything else.

“The peculiar scene that surrounded me, furnished the mind with new matter for contemplation on the works and ways of God. The mystery of his providence, and the still greater mystery of his grace, were all unsearchable to me. I had come from a distant country, and was then at the ends of the earth, a solitary individual, resting on an extensive wild, upon which no civilized foot had ever before trodden. My companions were poor savages, who nevertheless vied with each other in their attentions to me. I could not but feel attached to them. What would I have given to have had the book of life opened, which was yet a sealed book to them,—to have shown them that God who made them, and to have led them to Calvary’s mount, that they may see the Redeemer who had shed his precious blood for the redemption of the world, and was there set up as an ensign for the nations. But it was not in my power to take the veil from their hearts, I could only pray for them, and entreat the Father of mercies to visit them with his salvation. I felt very grateful that a Divine revelation had been granted to me; that I knew the Son of God had come, and believed that he had made a full and sufficient sacrifice or atonement for the sins of a guilty world. With compassionate feelings for my companions, under a grateful sense of my own mercies, I lay down to rest, free from all fear of danger.”

It was during this tour that the following letter was addressed to the lady of his excellent friend Dr. Mason Good. It is long, but the reader will scarcely wish that it had been shorter. Let it stand on record as an evidence of the power of true religion in maintaining amidst the rudest scenes, and the rough warfare of an adventurous life, all the gentleness and affection of the most refined and polished society of a Christian land.

“New Zealand, Sept. 22, 1820.

“Dear Madam,—Your kind favour arrived in the Bay of Islands September 7, the evening I returned from a long journey. I had no sooner cast my eye over your letter, than busy imagination transported me from the solitary woods, dreary wastes, and savage society of New Zealand, into ‘the polished corner’ of Guilford-street, and surrounded me with every cordial that could refresh the weary traveller, revive the fainting spirits, and blow the languishing spark of Christian love with a heavenly flame. I had literally been living for weeks a savage life, as far as outward circumstances went. I ate, I slept in the thick wood, in a cave, or on the banks of a river, or sea, with my native companions, wherever the shadows of the evening, or gathering storm compelled us to seek for shelter. Every day as I advanced from tribe to tribe, I was introduced to new acquaintances; my object was to gain from observation and experience that knowledge of savage life which I could not learn from books, and to make myself well acquainted with the wants, wishes, and character of the native inhabitants, to enable me, if my life should be spared, to aid to the utmost of my power in their deliverance from their present temporal miseries, which are great upon them, and from their much sorer bondage to the prince of darkness. I am happy in having obtained this object to a certain extent, at the expense of a few temporal privations, and a little bodily evil. When I have lain down upon the ground after a weary day’s journey, wrapped up in my great coat, surrounded only by cannibals, I often thought how many thousands are there in civil life, languishing upon beds of down, and saying, with Job, ‘in the evening would God it were morning,’ while I could sleep free from fear or pain, far remote from civil society under the guardian care of him who keepeth Israel. Though I everywhere met with the greatest kindness from the natives, as well as hospitality, for they always gave me the best fern-root, potato, or fish in their possession, yet I could never have duly estimated the sweets of civil life, and the still greater mental gratification of Christian communion, if I had not passed through these dark regions of Satan’s dominions, on which the dayspring from on high hath never cast a single ray. You cannot conceive how great a feast your letter was, after so long a fast. I was instantly present with every person you mentioned, and lived over again some of those happy moments I once spent under your hospitable roof. A sacred warmth flowed round my soul, my heart was sweetly melted under the influence of that pure and undefiled religion which dropped from your pen, like the heavenly dew, as it ran through every line. What shall we call those pure sensations that thus warm and captivate the soul? Do they flow from the communion of saints, or at these delightful moments does some invisible seraph touch our lips with a live coal from God’s altar? If you have ever experienced similar feelings, their recollection will explain more fully my meaning than my words can express. When these lines meet your eye, may they find your soul rapt up to the third heaven! But to where am I now wandering? the veil of the flesh is not now rent, we have not yet entered into the holy of holies. Though God has given you and your seed the land of Goshen, and you have light continually in your dwelling, yet you are still in Egypt, while I am constrained to dwell in Mesech, and to dwell in these remote and dark tents of Kedar. But, my dear madam, seas and continents will not long separate the people of God. I humbly hope the day is at no great distance, when we shall join the spirits of just men made perfect. At present you abound with blessings.... Jacob often thought of Bethel, and when in his afflictions he seemed to have forgotten that sacred spot, God said unto him, ‘Arise and go to Bethel, and dwell there.’ It will always be safest for us to dwell also at Bethel. I must now close, as my paper is nearly full, and your patience must also be tired when it comes to your turn to read what I have written.

“Remember me to your sister, Mrs. Skinner. Tell Mr. Good I received his last letter, and will answer it at a more convenient season. I was on my passage to Port Jackson in a small schooner, but adverse winds drove me back almost dead with sea-sickness. I have been here since February last, and when I shall get home I am uncertain; I venture no more in the schooner. Mrs. M. wants me back, as she has much upon her hands. It gave me great satisfaction to hear my son had arrived safe. I knew your kindness would far exceed my wishes. I will endeavour, as far as able, to pay all my debts when I see Mr. Good and you face to face; till then you must give me credit, and if I do not pay you, you will be sure to receive both principal and interest in the resurrection of the just.

“I remain, dear madam,
“Yours, in the bonds of Christian love,
“Samuel Marsden.”

The immediate object of his visit being accomplished, he returned to Sydney, where a strange reception awaited him. Governor Macquarie had sent to Lord Bathurst a despatch in answer to the statements of the senior chaplain, already noticed, in which he brought heavy charges against the latter, which deeply affected his character, not only as a magistrate, but as a Christian man and a minister. The office of a magistrate he had been compelled to undertake in common with the other clergy of the colony, who were all included in the commission of the peace. For this there was no justification except hard necessity. Mr. Marsden, however, had long been weary of the irksome task, and had once and again requested the governor to accept his resignation. This the governor had expressly declined to do, on the ground that “his services as a magistrate were too beneficial to the public;” but in fact, it would seem, only that he might have the opportunity of inflicting upon him the annoyance of a formal dismissal, which was shortly afterwards notified in the “Sydney Gazette.”

Lord Bathurst, in consequence of the governor’s despatch, determined upon a step which gave great satisfaction to Mr. Marsden’s friends at home, and sent out a commissioner to investigate upon the spot the truth of these and various other matters affecting the state of the colony, which had now obtained public notoriety, and had already engaged the attention of the British parliament; and Commissioner Bigge arrived during Mr. Marsden’s absence to manage the inquiry. On his return we find him seeking a public and searching examination of his whole conduct. Addressing a letter to the commissioner, he says: “I am happy to meet every charge that can be brought against me. I have no wish to do more than set my character right in the opinion of his Majesty’s government and in that of the Christian world; and I am unfeignedly thankful to you for the fair opportunity you afford me to justify my public and private conduct.”

Among the many charges brought before the commission of inquiry was that already preferred against Mr. Marsden by the governor in his despatch to Lord Bathurst, namely, that he had been guilty of extraordinary severity as a magistrate. Another, scarcely consistent with the first, was, that more profligacy and depravity were to be found amongst the convicts of Paramatta than in any other district, and that this was owing to the neglect of the senior chaplain. Perhaps it would have been impossible to have brought forward any two charges of a more painful nature. Happily the first was easily disproved, or rather it fell at once to the ground for want of proof. The second was the more cruel, because, while the facts bore out the statement, Mr. Marsden was the only public man in the colony who was not guilty, by his silence at least, to some extent of the iniquities which the governor affected to deplore. Paramatta was, in fact, the receptacle of the most hardened and depraved of the convict class; it received the sweepings of the jails in every district. There were nearly two hundred women and seven hundred male convicts there, while the factory was so small as not to be able to contain more than sixty women, and the remainder were obliged to find lodging for themselves or to sleep in the open fields. This was Mr. Marsden’s answer to the commissioner; it was a repetition of the remonstrance which he alone had had the courage, two years before, to present to the governor, and then to remit home to England. Thus he found himself arraigned as the cause of those very evils—evils, too, lying at his own door—which he had obtained so much obloquy for attempting to remove. The reflection is a trite one, but it will bear to be repeated, that the Christian philanthropist must look for his recompense in heaven, and not from man. “If when ye do well and suffer for it, ye take it patiently, this is acceptable with God, for even hereunto were ye called.” A third charge was that he had squandered public money in building the female orphan house. He showed, however, on his defence, that the lieutenant-governor, judge-advocate, and others, who formed the committee, had examined the accounts and passed them every quarter, and that the governor had himself afterwards approved of them, and published them in the “Sydney Gazette” three years before the charge was made. It now appeared further that Mr. Marsden had advanced largely to the institution; to the amount indeed of more than eight hundred pounds, for the mere cost of the building; “and this,” he says, “must have been known to the governor, as I was obliged to apply to him for repayment for some of these sums, and received an answer that he could not assist me.”

Such are some of the trials which they must learn to encounter who would be brave and fearless soldiers of the cross. They must expect to have their motives censured, their tempers blamed, their actions misconstrued, sometimes by men as good, or, at least, as honest as themselves. Governor Macquarie left the impression of his genius upon the youthful institutions of Australia, where his memory is still honoured as that of a great man; yet his conduct to Mr. Marsden was oppressive and unjust. It is consoling to know that there had been nothing in the personal conduct of the latter unworthy of his sacred calling. The commissioner, in the conclusion of the investigation, inserts, for Mr. Marsden’s information, the governor’s testimonial of his character, which, considering the charges brought against him, certainly does go far to prove that misapprehension and exasperated feelings had betrayed his excellency into a warmth and precipitancy of which, in moments of less irritation, he felt ashamed. “The governor admits that Mr. Marsden’s manner to him has been constantly civil and accommodating, and that nothing in his manner could provoke the governor’s warmth. The governor admits his qualifications, his activity, and his unremitting vigilance as a magistrate, and in society his cheerful disposition and readiness to please.”

While this inquiry was pending at Sydney, the governor addressed a letter to Lord Sidmouth, and published it in England. It was a defence of his own line of policy against various attacks which had been made against it in the House of Commons by the Hon. H. Grey Bennett and others. In the course of his defence, the governor not only ridiculed Mr. Marsden’s letter on the necessity of a female factory, and his account of the melancholy condition of the convict women, but charges him with being himself accustomed to traffic in spirituous liquors, and in consequence of being displeased at having so many public-houses in his neighbourhood.

Malicious, and absurd as the accusation was, carrying with it its own refutation, it found some who were weak or wicked enough to believe, or however to repeat it. It was revived in the colony, and republished in one of the Sydney newspapers after Mr. Marsden’s death. Such is the tenacity of slander. “Only throw mud enough,” says the eloquent Mr. Burke, “and some of it will be sure to stick.” Mr. Marsden felt his character so seriously compromised that he wrote home to the minister in self-defence, and also addressed a statement of the case to the new governor, Sir Thomas Brisbane. After showing the absurdity, and indeed the impossibility, of the charge, since, in the first place, the governor himself had granted a monopoly to certain contractors to purchase and land all spirits brought to the colony, and that in the second he had no licence, he adds: “Such is the watchful eye that was kept upon my whole conduct by night and by day, if I had been guilty of that or any other impropriety, it would have been impossible for me to have escaped detection.” So far as any pretence of truth could have been urged in support of this foul slander, namely that “he kept a public-house for the sale of ardent spirits, selling them in any quantity from a pint to a puncheon,” it may be stated in his own words: “In the infancy of the colony, previously to my arrival, barter was established among all classes from the governor downwards. As there was neither beer nor milk, tea nor sugar, to be purchased at any price, wine and spirits became the medium of exchange. As the colony progressively advanced in agriculture, commerce, and wealth, barter gradually decreased, and money transactions became more general. I can affirm that for the last eighteen years I have not had in my possession as much spirits as would allow my servants half a pint a head per week. And at no period of my residence did I ever purchase spirits for sale.”[J]

These were not the only troubles through which he was called to pass. But enough has been said both to explain the difficulties in which Mr. Marsden was placed and to clear his character from the vile aspersions cast upon it. It is with pleasure that we turn from these false and disgraceful charges to follow him in those Christian and philanthropic pursuits which have given splendour to his name.

On the arrival of Sir Thomas Brisbane, in 1821, to assume the government of New South Wales, Mr. Marsden immediately waited upon him, when he received the assurance of his countenance and support, not only as a colonial chaplain, but as the representative of the great missionary work going forward in New Zealand. Such encouragement was opportune; he thanked God and took courage; for the difficulties were great, and from time to time grievous disappointments and vexations had occurred. It was about this time that the seminary at Paramatta, for the education of New Zealanders, was abandoned. It had its origin with Mr. Marsden, and was conducted for some time in his own house. It was indeed one of his most favourite plans, and its failure was a severe disappointment. It was found, however, that the change of habits and of climate was injurious to the health of the New Zealanders, while the results were not always such as might have been desired. But nothing could damp his ardent zeal, or quench his spirit of enterprise. “I see,” he says, writing to his friends at home, “the way preparing for the spread of the gospel. I feel the fullest conviction that the South Sea Islands will now receive the blessing of civilization and the gospel. The work is great, and many difficulties may oppose it. The foundation is now firmly laid, and no power on earth can overturn it. To impart these blessings to the New Zealanders is an object worthy of the British nation: a more noble undertaking could not be suggested to the Christian world.” This at least was not the mere declamation of the platform, but the deliberate expression of the views of one who had toiled and suffered in the cause for twenty years, and had scarcely been cheered, at present, with the sight of a single New Zealand convert. “Here,” at least, “is the patience of the saints.”

His home duties were not neglected; nor was his the easy philanthropy which overlooks the humble claims of the rustic flock or obscure parish, while it stalks abroad on some heroic enterprise which may feed the vanity, while it satisfies the conscience, of the actor. Through his exertions Paramatta had now its association in behalf of the Bible Society, which already collected funds for the Parent Society in England. An early report from this institution contains a remarkable account of his visits to the sick bed of a young woman, whose experience beautifully illustrates the text, that the Scripture “is able to make us wise unto salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus.” It brings the writer also before us incidentally as a spiritual pastor and an enlightened minister of Christ.

“Some time ago,” says Mr. Marsden, “I was called on to visit a young woman, about twenty years of age, in one of our districts, who was extremely ill, and who wished very much to see me before she died. On my arrival at her father’s house, I found her heavily afflicted, and death appeared to be at no great distance. I sat by her bedside with the Bible in my hand; expecting to find her, as I have but too often found others in similar circumstances, ignorant of the first principles of religion.

“I read a portion of this sacred book to her, and was most agreeably surprised to find that she not only understood the letter but the spirit of the Scriptures.

“I asked her father how she became so well acquainted with the Scriptures: he said he did not know—she was always reading her Bible at every opportunity, and sometimes sat up whole nights for that purpose. He observed, she was a very dutiful daughter: he had a large family, and she, being the eldest, and very industrious, was of great service to her mother and the younger branches of the family; the only indulgence which she desired was to be allowed to read the Bible when her work was done; but he could not account for her attachment to it; and it seemed very strange to him that she should attend to it so much. I asked him if she was in the habit of going to church, as I did not personally know her. He said she went sometimes, but was generally prevented, from the distance and the large family which she had to attend to.

“This young woman may be said to have obtained her religion wholly from the Bible. None of the family knew anything of the Bible but herself. I visited her during the whole of her sickness, from the time she sent for me, until she fell asleep in Jesus. Her faith was simple, her views of the way of salvation clear. She gave me many proofs of this, in the various conversations which I had with her during her sickness. The Bible was more precious to her than gold; she had found it, under the influence of the Divine Spirit, her counsellor and her guide, and by it she had been brought to a knowledge of the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom he had sent; and hereby she was filled with a hope full of immortality. Previously to her last sickness, she had enjoyed good health: it was in the prime of youth and vigour that she had read her Bible, and loved it, so that she had not to seek God, for the first time, in this trying moment; but found him a present help in sickness and in the approach of death. The Bible had testified of Christ to her: she had found eternal life revealed therein; and the Divine promises were both great and precious to her soul.”

Such instances of faith, and of the happy effects of a simple reliance upon the atonement, were at that time of rare occurrence in the colony. Instances of conversion simply from the reading of the Scriptures are not perhaps so rare as we generally suppose. Lieutenant Sadleir, who himself resided at Paramatta, has remarked upon this occurrence: “It is gratifying to the reflecting mind to observe such glimmerings of light in the midst of so much darkness. Although found in obscurity and in the cottage of the peasant, it proved that there were some who had not bowed the knee to the Baal of universal licentiousness.”

Mr. Marsden’s anxiety for the female convicts was not to be abated by ridicule or opposition. We find him, in August, 1822, addressing a letter to Dr. Douglas, the police magistrate of Paramatta, on their behalf. Some of the sentiments are beautifully touching. The substance of the plea on their behalf is “that these poor creatures, who are confined in the penitentiary, and who have committed no offence in these settlements, be allowed the privilege of attending at least once on the sabbath day on public worship.” The request was surely reasonable, and in urging it he rises to a pathetic eloquence: “There is no nation under the heavens in whose bosom the wretched and unfortunate finds so warm a reception as in our own. The unhappy situation of the female convicts during their confinement in the different jails in the empire interests the best feelings of the human heart. They are instructed by the counsels of the wise, consoled by the prayers of the pious, softened by the tears of the compassionate, and relieved by the alms of the benevolent. The noble senator does not pass over their crimes and their punishments unnoticed; he is anxious for the prevention of the former, and the mitigation of the latter; nor does the wise politician consider them beneath his care.” He then speaks with natural exultation of “the watchful eye with which the British government provides for their wants and conveniences during their voyage to New South Wales, even more liberally than for the brave soldiers and sailors who have fought the battles of their country, and never violated its laws;” and then follows a sentence which leaves us uncertain whether more to admire his patriotism or the gentleness of his nature and the warmth of his heart:

“This apparently singular conduct may seem as if the British government wished to encourage crime and afterwards reward it; but upon a nearer view this principle of action will be found to spring spontaneously from virtue, from that inherent, laudable, Christian compassion and anxiety, which the father of the prodigal felt for his lost son, which kept alive the spark of hope that he might one day return to his father’s house and be happy. This parable of our blessed Saviour’s most beautifully exhibits the character of the British nation towards her prodigal sons and daughters, and is more honourable to her than all the victories she has achieved by sea and land.”

The welfare of the female convict population lay near to Mr. Marsden’s heart; scarcely his beloved New Zealanders and their missions engaged more of his affection. His plans for the improvement of their temporal condition, and his incessant labours for their spiritual welfare, occupied no small portion of his time and thoughts; and there is good reason to believe that his labours amongst these outcasts were not “in vain in the Lord.” Standing, as we should have thought, himself in need of encouragement, he stimulated the languid zeal of others. Mrs. Fry and other philanthropists were now engaged in their great work of amending our prison discipline at home. We have inserted a letter from that excellent lady to Mr. Marsden. His answer to it must have cheered her spirits amidst the many disheartening toils to which she was exposed.

“The Wellington had just arrived when,” he says, “I went on board, and was highly gratified with the order which appears to have been maintained in that vessel. I could not have conceived that any ship could have been fitted up to have afforded such accommodation to the unfortunate female exiles as the Wellington was. All the women looked clean, healthy, and well. They had not that low, vicious, squalid, dirty look which the women at former periods have had when they first arrived. I believe there has been very great attention paid by the master and surgeon to their morals and comfort, in every possible way. The very sight of the arrangements of the vessel showed that the humane and benevolent wishes of the Christian world had been carried into effect, and proved beyond all contradiction that order and morality can be maintained upon so long a voyage in a female convict ship.... The present inquiry into the state of this colony, before the committee of the House of Commons, will greatly benefit this country. I can speak from painful experience that for the last twenty-six years, it has been the most immoral, wretched society in all the Christian world. Those who are intimate with the miseries and vices of large jails alone can form any idea of the colony of New South Wales. I know what Newgate was when I was in London, in the years 1808 and 1809. I was then in the habit of seeing that miserable abode of vice and woe. What has since been done in Newgate may be done elsewhere, if suitable means are adopted by those in authority, seconded by individual exertions; much might be done in these colonies towards restoring the poor exiles to society, with the countenance and support of the government. Great evils are not removed without great difficulties. When I visited the Wellington, I saw much had been done in England, and more than I could have credited, had I not been an eye witness of the situation of the females.”

Sir Thomas Brisbane, the new governor, was not slow to perceive the worth of services such as those which Mr. Marsden had rendered to the colony, and pressed him to accept once more the office of a magistrate. In reference to this, “I wish,” says Mr. Marsden, in a letter to Dr. Mason Good, “to avoid the office if I can; but I fear it will not be in my power, without giving offence. The judges as well as the public and the magistrates have urged me to take the bench at the present time.” In the same letter, he adds: “I feel happy that I have stood firm against all calumnies and reproaches, and have been the instrument of bringing to light the abominations that have been committed here: and some of the evils are already remedied.” The friends of religion and virtue in England could not fail to sympathize with him, being well assured that substantially he was fighting the cause of true piety and equal justice, against profligacy and oppression. Mr. Wilberforce wrote to him in the year 1823, with his usual warm affection:—

“Though I may be a somewhat doubtful and unfrequent correspondent, I am not an uncertain friend; and where good will, as in your instance, is grounded on early esteem, and cemented by the consciousness of having many mutual friends, I should be ashamed if that should suffer any decay from the impression not being often renewed. It was with no small concern that I heard that anything unpleasant had occurred. I had meant to endeavour to obtain a sight of any letters or papers to our common friends, and to have consulted with them whether any, and if any, what measures, could be taken for the benefit of your colony, or in your own support, which, without a compliment, I hold to be in a degree coincident.... And now, my dear sir, farewell: but I ought not to conclude without congratulating you on the progressive advancement, as I trust, of the religious and moral interests of your Australian world, and begging that you will always inform me unreservedly whenever you conceive I can be of use publicly, or to yourself personally.

“I remain, with much esteem and regard,
“My dear sir,
“Your sincere friend,
“W. Wilberforce.”

The report of Commissioner Bigge was made public soon afterwards; and with it the clouds which had gathered so long around the chaplain of Paramatta were at last dispersed. He was too prominent a mark not to be again assailed. Always in the front of the battle when the oppressed required protection, or evil doers in high positions his bold assaults, it was not in the nature of things that he should lead a very quiet life. His calling was peculiar; so were his talents; and the latter were admirably fitted for the former. But for the present his triumph was complete, and the government at home appreciated his faithful service. The document which follows requires no further comment. It was not received till some time had elapsed, but we insert it here as a fitting conclusion to the chapter:—

“Private Secretary’s Office, Sydney, 9th April, 1825.

“Reverend Sir,—I have the honour to acquaint you, by command of his excellency the governor, that Earl Bathurst, having taken into consideration your long and useful services in the colony of New South Wales, has determined upon increasing your stipend to the sum of four hundred pounds sterling, per annum.

“I have further the pleasing satisfaction of coupling with it his lordship’s instructions to the governor, to acquaint you that it has been done in consideration of your long, laborious, and praiseworthy exertions in behalf of religion and morality.

“I have the honour to be, reverend Sir,
“Your obedient servant,
“John Ovens,
“Private Secretary.

“To the Rev. Samuel Marsden,
Principal Chaplain.”

FOOTNOTES:

[I] Savage Life and Scenes in Australia and New Zealand. By George French Angas, London, 1847.

[J] Rations of spirits, as in the navy, would seem at this time to have been regularly served out to the servants and labourers in the colony.

CHAPTER IX.

Fourth Visit to New Zealand—Trials and Successes of the various Missions—Shipwreck and Danger of Mr. Marsden and the Rev. S. Leigh—Returns home—Letter to Avison Terry, Esq.

In July, 1823, we find Mr. Marsden again taking ship and embarking for New Zealand; his intention being to visit the stations of the Church Missionary Society, and to arrange its affairs. Since his last visit fresh causes for anxiety had appeared. In consequence of Shunghie’s misconduct, the natives were now alienated from the missionaries; they had become indifferent to education and agricultural improvements; and the gospel, it was too evident, had made little progress hitherto. Shunghie declared that as to himself, “he wanted his children to learn to fight and not to read.” The Maories about the settlement insisted upon being paid for their services in fire-arms and ammunition. “Since Shunghie’s return,” writes one of the missionaries, “the natives, one and all, have treated us with contempt. They are almost past bearing; coming into our houses when they please, demanding food, thieving whatever they can lay their hands on, breaking down our garden fences, stripping the ship’s boats of everything they can. They seem, in fact, ripe for any mischief; had Mr. Marsden himself been amongst us, much as he deserves their esteem, I believe he would not escape without insult; but the Lord is a very present help in time of trouble.” Amongst the missionaries themselves certain evils had appeared, the growth of a secular and commercial spirit, which had injured their cause, and threatened to frustrate the great end for which the mission was projected. Mr. Marsden heard of these untoward events, and hastened his departure, full of anxiety, but not abating one jot of his confidence in the final triumph of God’s cause. What his feelings were his own journal testifies:—

“I am still confident that this land of darkness and superstition will be visited by the day-star from on high. The glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken it. O Lord, let thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is done in heaven. I have suffered so much annoyance and persecution for some time past, from unreasonable and wicked men, that I am happy in leaving the colony for a little time, in which I have experienced so much annoyance. In reflecting upon the state of New Zealand there are many things which give me both pleasure and pain. I am happy the Church Missionary Society has not relinquished the cause, but have sent out more strength to carry on the work. Many have been the discouragements from the misconduct of some of the servants of the Society; but I am confident that the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, will in time subdue the hearts of these poor people to the obedience of faith.”

He was accompanied on his voyage by the Reverend Henry Williams and his family, who now went out to strengthen the New Zealand mission, of which he soon became one of the most effective leaders. One of Bishop Selwyn’s first steps when he was appointed bishop of New Zealand, was to make Mr. Henry Williams one of his archdeacons, and since then he has been designated to a New Zealand bishopric in a district inhabited exclusively by Christianized Maories. Could Mr. Marsden have foreseen the course which awaited his companion, how would his soul have been cheered! but it was for him to sow in tears, and for others to reap in joy. The field was not yet ripe for the harvest; other men laboured, who now sleep in the dust, and we of this generation have entered into their labours. Mr. Marsden was not mistaken in his estimate of his new companion. Indeed he appears to have been very seldom mistaken in the judgments he formed about other men. “I think,” he notes, “that Mr. Williams and his family will prove a great blessing to the Society. I hope he will be able to correct and remedy, in time, many evils that have existed, and also to set an example to the rest what they as missionaries should do.”

This was his fourth visit to New Zealand, and though in some respects it was painful, yet in others there was ground for joy. The cloud which the prophet saw from Carmel, though no greater than a man’s hand, foretold abundance of rain; and so now too, at length, after nine years’ toil, a few hopeful symptoms appeared amongst the Maories. Their anxious visitor observed with much pleasure, he says, that since his last visit, the natives in general were much improved in their appearance and manners; and now for the first time he heard them, with strange delight, sing some hymns and repeat some prayers in their own language. This convinced him that, notwithstanding the misconduct of a few of the Europeans, the work was gradually going on, and the way preparing for the blessings of the gospel. “I have no doubt that the greatest difficulties are now over, and that God will either incline the hearts of those who are now in New Zealand, to devote themselves to their work, or he will find other instruments to do his work.”

Yet he had a painful duty to discharge. Firm as he was and lion-hearted when danger was to be met, his nature was very gentle, and his affections both deep and warm; and he had now to rebuke some of the missionaries whom he loved as his own soul, and even to dismiss one of them. Of those whom he had been obliged to censure, he writes thus:—“They expressed their regret for the past, and a determination to act in a different way for the future. Some, I have no doubt, will retrace their steps, and will be more cautious and circumspect, but I have not the same confidence in all. Some express sorrow, but I fear not that which worketh repentance.” Again he remarks: “Missionary work is very hard work, unless the heart is fully engaged in it. No consideration can induce a man to do habitually what he has a habitual aversion to. The sooner such a one leaves the work, the better it will be for himself and the mission.” But though compelled to blame, he did not forget to sympathize. “The present missionaries, though some of them have erred greatly from the right way, yet have all had their trials and troubles. Some allowance must be made for their peculiar situation, and their want of Christian society, and of the public ordinances of religion.”

Several chiefs, among whom was Tooi, warmly took up the cause of the missionary who had been dismissed. The conversation which followed is a beautiful illustration of the too much forgotten Scripture which tells us that “a soft answer turneth away wrath,” while at the same time it presents an interesting view of the Maori mind and character at this critical period of their national history.

“Tooi addressing me, said a missionary had informed him that day that he was going to leave New Zealand, and the chiefs wished to know whether this person had been dismissed for selling muskets and powder to the natives. To this I replied that Mr. —— was directed by the gentlemen in England who had sent him out as a missionary, not to sell muskets and powder; that it was not the custom in England for clergymen to sell muskets and powder; and that no missionary could be allowed to sell them in New Zealand. As several of the chiefs present had been at Port Jackson, I observed that they knew that the clergymen there did not sell muskets and powder. They knew that I had not one musket in my house, and that they had never seen any when they were with me. They replied, they knew what I said was true. I further added we did not interfere with the government of New Zealand; they did what they pleased, and the missionaries should be allowed to do what they pleased. Tooi said that this was but just, and observed, ‘We are at present in the same state as the Otaheitans were some time back. The Otaheitans wanted only muskets and powder, and would have nothing else, and now, as they knew better, they wanted none; and the New Zealanders would care nothing about muskets when they knew better, which they would in time.’ All the chiefs acquiesced in the observations Tooi made. I was happy to find their minds were so enlarged, and that they had begun to take such proper views of the subject. I said, Tooi’s remarks upon the conduct of the Otaheitans were very just, and told them that the Queen Charlotte brig, which had sailed from the bay the preceding day, belonged to the young king Pomare; that the Otaheitans had sent oil and various other articles to Port Jackson, and that they had received in return, tea, sugar, and flour, and clothing, as they wanted these articles, and that the New Zealanders might in time have a ship of their own to procure sperm oil, spars, etc., which they might sell at Port Jackson, and many of them were able to kill the whales, having been employed on board the whalers. When they got a vessel of their own, they would soon be equal to the Otaheitans, and give over their cruel wars. They expressed much pleasure at having a vessel of their own. After some further explanation the chiefs were satisfied that Mr. —— had violated our laws and had brought all his distress upon himself.”

The conduct of the natives confirmed the impression which Mr. Marsden had previously formed, and which their subsequent history down to the present day entirely sustains, that they are a noble race of men, of considerable mental capacity, of great perseverance and enterprise, who never lose sight of an object upon which they have once set their minds; powerful reasoners upon any subject that has come within their knowledge; possessed of a quick perception and a natural sagacity, which enables them to form a just acquaintance with human nature as it presents itself before them. Who would not wish that they too may form a happy exception to the rule which seems in every land to condemn the native population to waste away before the advances of European enterprise? Who would not desire that the Maorie tribes may long be a great and powerful nation, protected, but not oppressed by English rule?

Mr. Marsden now paid a visit at Wangaroa, to the Wesleyan missionary station there. Over the Wesleyan missions he had of course no control or oversight, such as that with which he was intrusted towards the missions of the London Missionary Society in the South Sea Islands. This, however, did not prevent his taking an affectionate interest in their affairs. He found Mr. Leigh, the founder of their mission, very ill, and invited him to return with him on a voyage of health and recreation to Port Jackson; and having taken leave of the Church Missionary brethren with solemn and affectionate counsels he embarked on the 6th of September, 1823, with feelings which he thus describes.

“I now felt much pleasure in the prospect of a speedy return to my family and people, and being very weary with various toils and anxieties both of body and mind, I longed for a little rest, and retired to my cabin with much thankfulness and comfort. I had cause to be thankful for continual good health during the period I had been in New Zealand, as I had not lost one day. I felt great confidence in the Rev. Mr. Williams, and I doubt not that God will prosper the work, and raise up a seed in this benighted land to serve him; for many shall come from the south as well as the north, and shall sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of God.”

But his bright visions were overcast. Like the first and greatest of Christian missionaries, it was ordained that he, too, “should suffer shipwreck and be cast upon a desert island.” His own journal gives us the story of his danger and deliverance.

“Sunday 7th.—This morning we weighed anchor. I spent some time this day reading the Scriptures with the Rev. S. Leigh, our subject for contemplation was the 1st chapter of St. Paul to the Romans. The weather was very threatening and stormy; the wind from the eastward and strong, blowing directly into the mouth of the harbour. We lay in Korororika Bay, on the south side of the harbour, and had to sail along a lee rocky shore. In working out with the wind dead on the land, the ship being light and high out of the water she would not answer her helm, and twice missed stays. The lead was kept continually sounding, and we soon found ourselves in little more than three fathoms water, with a rocky bottom and a shoal of rocks on our lee, and it was then high water. When the captain found the situation we were in, he immediately ordered to let go the anchor, which was done. When the tide turned the ship struck, the gale increased, and the sea with it; a shipwreck was now more than probable; there appeared no possible way to prevent it. The Rev. Mr. Leigh was very ill, and felt the disturbance much, Mrs. Leigh also being very ill. I requested the captain to lend me the boat to take Mr. and Mrs. Leigh to the nearest island, where we arrived very safely, the island being but two miles distant. The natives expressed much concern for us, made a fire, prepared the best hut they could, which was made of bulrushes, for our reception. I requested them to send a canoe to Rungheehe, to inform Mr. and Mrs. Hall of the loss of the ship, and to bring their boat to assist in bringing the people to land. At the same time, I desired they would tell the natives to bring a large war canoe. The natives for some time alleged that their canoe would be dashed to pieces by the waves, but at length I prevailed upon them. They had between five and six miles to go, through a very rough sea. About three o’clock, Messrs. Hall, King, and Hanson, arrived in Mr. Hall’s boat, and a large war canoe with natives; they immediately proceeded to the ship, and we had the satisfaction to see them arrive safe, and waited until dark with the greatest anxiety for their return. The rain fell in torrents, the gale increased, and they had not returned; we lay down in our little hut full of fear for the safety of all on board. The night appeared very long, dark, and dreary. As we could not rest, we most anxiously wished for the morning light, to learn some account of them.

“September 8th.—When the day arrived we had the happiness to see the vessel still upright, but driven nearer the shore. No boat or canoe from her; the gale still increased; about mid-day we saw the mainmast go overboard. The natives on the island screamed aloud when the mast fell. I concluded they had cut away the mast to relieve the vessel. We spent the rest of this day in great suspense, as we could not conjecture why all the passengers should remain on board in the state the ship was in. At dark in the evening Mr. Hall returned, and informed us that the bottom of the vessel was beaten out, and that both her chain and best bower cable were parted; and that she beat with such violence upon the rocks when the tide was in that it was impossible to stand upon the deck; at the same time, he said, there was no danger of any lives being lost, as he did not think the vessel would go to pieces, as she stood firm upon the rock, when the tide was out. He said, the passengers on board had not determined what they would do, or where they would land as yet; they wished to wait till the gale was abated. Mr. Hall’s information relieved us much; as it was now dark, the wind high, and the sea rough, we could not leave the island, and therefore took up our lodgings in our little hut.

“The natives supplied us with a few potatoes and some fish. My pleasing prospect of returning to Port Jackson was at an end, for some time at least. I was exceedingly concerned for the loss of so fine a vessel on many accounts, as individuals who are interested in her must suffer as well as the passengers on board, and spent the night in reflections on the difficulties with which I was surrounded; while the raging of the storm continued without intermission.

“Tuesday 9th.—At the return of day we discovered the ship still upright, but she appeared to be higher on the reef. I now determined to return to Kiddee-Kiddee in Mr. Hall’s boat with Mr. and Mrs. Leigh. We left the island for the missionary settlement, where we arrived about nine o’clock. Our friends had not heard of the loss of the ship until our arrival, as there had not been any communication between the different settlements in consequence of the severe weather. We were very kindly received by the brethren; I informed them in what situation we had left the ship, and requested that every assistance might be given to land the passengers and luggage. The wreck was about twelve or fourteen miles from the settlement. Four boats were immediately sent off; Mr. Hall’s boat took the women and children to Rungheehe, and two of the boats returned with part of our luggage, and we went to the station of the Rev. Henry Williams. All the brethren rendered every aid in their power. The boats on their return brought the welcome news that all was well on board, and Mr. Leigh did not appear to have suffered much injury from the wet and cold he endured on the island, though in so weak a state. Divine wisdom has no doubt some wise ends to answer in all that has befallen us. The word of God expressly says all things shall work together for the good of them that love God, and the Scripture cannot be broken.

“We cannot see through this dark and mysterious dispensation at the present time; the why and wherefore we must leave to him who ordereth all things according to the counsel of his own will. As the gale continued with unremitting violence, if we had gone out to sea we might have been cast on shore under more dangerous and distressing circumstances. Our shipwreck has been a most merciful one, as no lives have been lost, nor anything but the ship.”

The shipwreck of the Brampton—for that was the vessel’s name—occurred on the 7th of September, and in consequence Mr. Marsden was detained in New Zealand until the 14th of November, when he returned home in the Dragon, and arrived at Sydney in the beginning of December, 1823. The interval was not lost; for he seems to have been one of those who gather up the fragments of time, and turn to the best account the idle hours and spare moments of life. He drew up some excellent rules for the guidance of the missionaries and Christian settlers in their intercourse with the shipping which now began to visit the Bay of Islands. He encouraged the erection of a school-house for the natives. “The foundation,” he says, “must be laid in the education of the rising generation. The children possess strong minds, are well-behaved and teachable. They are capable of learning anything we wish to teach them.” During his detention he also addressed a circular letter to the missionaries respecting a grammar in the Maori or New Zealand language, pointing out the necessity of adopting some more systematic method both for its arrangement and pronunciation. This led to a new vocabulary of the native language, and in a short time to a new method of spelling. We have, of course, retained Mr. Marsden’s orthography of New Zealand names, but we may remark, by the way, it is very different from that which has been since introduced. Shunghie became E’Hongi; Kiddee Kiddee, Keri Keri; and so in other instances. But even Mr. Marsden, with all his sagacity, did not penetrate New Zealand’s future, nor foresee in how short a time the well-known and familiar sounds of English towns and villages would be transferred to that still savage island, superseding even in Maori lips their native designations. It seems probable that the New Zealand language may, in the course of another generation, come to be known only by the grammar which the missionaries compiled and the Scriptures which they have since translated. But whatever be its fate, it is in a high degree sonorous and expressive, and had it but an antique literature, a Tallessin or an Ossian, it could never perish. Without a literature of its own no spoken language can long endure against the assaults of that which is evidently destined to be the universal speech of trade and commerce, the English tongue. On the other hand the literature of a language, or even of a dialect, embalms it after it has ceased to be a spoken tongue even to the end of time.

And lastly, a political object occupied some of Mr. Marsden’s time and thoughts. The incessant and desolating wars which the native tribes waged against each other were, he saw, the great obstacle to the progress of New Zealand. The missions were always insecure, for the country was always more or less disturbed. Civil war is, under all circumstances, the bane, and, if persisted in, the ruin of a country; add the ferocity of New Zealand warfare, its cannibalism and its undying spirit of revenge, and nothing more was wanted to degrade the finest country under heaven into a very pit of darkness. All this Mr. Marsden felt; he conceived that if he could succeed in establishing some one chief as supreme, a plan of government might be drawn up securing life and property throughout the island. He consulted Shunghie, Wyatto Riva, and other powerful chieftains. Shunghie’s ambitious spirit would have embraced the proposal, the condition being, of course, that he should be the sovereign; but the jealousy of the rest prevented anything like unanimity. Riva justly remarked that to have any superior would degrade them; yet all the chiefs appeared tired of war and the unsettled state consequent upon it. So the project failed.

At length he returned home, accompanied by six New Zealand youths, whose eagerness was such that they gladly promised to sleep upon the deck rather than miss the opportunity. Mr. Leigh, the Wesleyan missionary, was also his fellow voyager. Mr. Leigh’s opinion of Mr. Marsden and his labours is highly gratifying, and not the less so as coming from one who belonged to another Society. “The shipwreck,” he says, “which we have experienced will, I have no doubt, prove favourable to the reputation of the New Zealanders. For several days we were in their power, and they might have taken all that we had with the greatest ease; but instead of oppressing and robbing us, they actually sympathized with us in our trials and afflictions. Mr. Marsden, myself, and Mrs. Leigh, were at a native village for several days and nights, without any food but what the natives brought us; what they had they gave us willingly, and said—‘Poor creatures! you have nothing to eat, and you are not accustomed to our kind of food.’ I shall never forget the sympathy and kindness of these poor heathens.

“I do hope that the Rev. S. Marsden will be successful in his endeavours to put an end to the frequent wars in New Zealand. I have heard many natives and chiefs say, ‘It is no good to go to fight and eat men; we wish to cease from war, and retire to some peaceful place.’ I pray God that this object may be soon effected among this people. The Christian world, and especially the Church Missionary Society, will never be able fully to appreciate the valuable labours of the Rev. Samuel Marsden. His fervent zeal, his abundant toil, and extensive charity in the cause of missions, are beyond estimation. May he live long as a burning and shining light in the missionary world!”

Within a few days of his return home, Mr. Marsden, the impression of his visit still fresh upon his mind, wrote the following interesting letter:—

“Paramatta, December 20, 1823.

“My very dear Sir,—I now sit down to thank you for your very valuable presents, which you were so kind as to send me for the natives of New Zealand. They arrived a little before I sailed for that island. I was at Van Diemen’s Land when the vessel which brought them arrived at Port Jackson. On my return from the southern settlements I prepared for New Zealand. Your spades, axes, etc., made the hearts of many rejoice; and they are now dispersed over the country, from the North Cape to the Thames. When I arrived at the Bay of Islands there were several chiefs there, who had fled for safety in the late wars, but returned when peace was restored, and took with them some of your presents. I have just returned from New Zealand, having been absent about twenty weeks; was shipwrecked, but no lives were lost. The natives have made considerable advances in civilization, and I have no doubt they will become a great nation in due time. Much has been done already to better their situation. I believe their agriculture has increased more than twenty-fold since they have got hoes, but it will be many years before every man in the island will be able to procure a hoe. The Church Missionary Society has done much for them, and their labour has not been in vain. All that is wanted now is faithful missionaries to labour amongst them; it will be very difficult to find such men. There are even very few pious men who are qualified to be missionaries; it requires much self-denial, much patience, and much perseverance, united with the wisdom of the serpent and the innocence of the dove. Men, also, of education and knowledge are wanted; ignorant men, though possessed of piety, will be found ill-qualified for a mission in New Zealand. The natives are a wise and understanding people, and will pry into the very secrets of every man who resides amongst them. Their study is human nature in all its bearings; they talk more of the heart of man than we do, and of the evil that is lodged there. They will soon find out a man’s real character, whether he is ignorant or wise, prudent or foolish, and will estimate the benefits which they are likely to derive from his knowledge, his good temper, his charity, and will esteem him or despise him accordingly. A wise and prudent man will have great influence over them, while they would laugh at an ignorant man. A good farmer or mechanic would be much esteemed, because they would be benefited by him. I have gained considerable knowledge of their customs and manners in my last visit. Cannibalism is interwoven through the whole of their religious system. They offer up human sacrifices as sin offerings. Whenever the gospel shall be revealed to them they will very easily understand the doctrine of the atonement. They demand a sacrifice or an atonement for almost everything which they consider as an injury. Human sacrifices are offered for the death of their friends, whether they are slain in battle or die a natural death. Their eating human flesh has its origin in superstition. They pay great attention to all the ceremonies of their religion, and are very much afraid of offending their god. As for their wars, these will not be prevented until an object can be found that will employ their active minds. Agriculture and commerce are the only means that promise to remedy their civil wars; when these can be brought into operation they will have a beneficial effect. It is only the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, that can subdue their hearts to the obedience of faith. I am of opinion that civilization and Christianity will go hand in hand, if means are used at the same time to introduce both, and one will aid and assist the other. To bring this noble race of human beings to the knowledge of the only true God and Jesus Christ is an attempt worthy of the Christian world. I believe as God has stirred up the hearts of his people to pray for them, and to open both their hearts and their purses he will prosper the work, and raise up a people from amongst these savages to call him blessed. In time the voice of joy and gladness will be heard in the present abodes of cruelty, darkness, and superstition. I consider every axe, every hoe, every spade, in New Zealand as an instrument to prepare the way of the Lord. They are silent but sure missionaries in the hands of the natives of that country. I was very happy to learn that your dear mother was still alive, and all your family were well at present. Remember us kindly to your mother, if still alive, and to Mrs. Terry and our other friends.

“I am, yours affectionately,
“Samuel Marsden.

“To Avison Terry, Esq.”

CHAPTER X.

Aborigines—South Sea Mission—Fresh Slanders on Mr. Marsden’s character—His Pamphlet in self-defence—Letter of Messrs. Bennett and Tyerman—Libels and Action at Law—Verdict—Case of Ring—Pastoral Letters of Mr. Marsden: To a Lady; On the Divinity of Christ—Fifth Voyage to New Zealand—Letters, etc.