PART III. CHRISTIANIZATION
CHAPTER I. SAMUEL MARSDEN.
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PART III.
Christianization
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CHAPTER I.
SAMUEL MARSDEN.
THE honour of carrying the Gospel of peace to the warlike Maories, is due to the late Rev. Samuel Marsden. He was then senior chaplain of the colony of New South Wales. The story of his life shows what can be done by a man of devoted aim, although of little learning, and no brilliance. He was of lowly parentage. It was at Horsforth, a village near Leeds, that he was born, in 1764.
His early training was among the Methodists, to which branch of the Christian Church his parents belonged. To the end of his life, he cherished a warm affection for that people. Under the auspices of the Elland Society, he was admitted at St. John's College, Cambridge. Before he had taken his degree, an offer was made to him of a chaplaincy in New South Wales. His ordination and marriage over, he set sail, with his wife, in a convict transport, for the distant colony. The trials of the voyage prepared him for those that were in reserve.
By his faithfulness he provoked the enmity of many. With Governor King he had a misunderstanding: this did not, however, prevent the Governor from seeking his advice. On one occasion, Mr. Marsden stipulated that he should be allowed to address His Excellency as a private individual: he then locked the door, and, in
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plain, honest words, told Captain King what he thought were the faults of Governor King. To the credit of both, they parted on good terms.
At another time, there arose a fierce dispute between the Governor and the Commissary-General, when Mr. Marsden was in the room. He retired to the window, that he might not see the coming storm. The Governor, in a rage, collared the Commissary, who, in his turn, struck the Governor. The latter, riled at the insult, called out to the chaplain, "Do you see that, sir?" "Indeed, sir," said Mr. Marsden, "I see nothing," laying emphasis on the word see. Good-humour was at once restored.
Mr. Marsden was a man of deep piety, good sense, and catholic spirit. After an absence of fourteen years, he visited England. He had acted as the Colonial Agent for the London Missionary Society, and now he persuaded the Church of England Missionary Society to turn their attention to New Zealand. Accordingly, on his return voyage, in 1809, he was accompanied by Messrs. Hall and King, who were soon followed by Mr. Kendall, and, in 1815, by the Rev. John Butler, the first clerical missionary. With his devoted zeal in this good cause, Mr. Marsden fell into the error--not uncommon at that day--that a savage people must be civilized, before they can be Christianized. Experience has proved the contrary.
While on the voyage, Mr. Marsden saw a man with a dark skin, and a sad look, among the common sailors on the forecastle. He was wrapped in an old great-coat, very sick and weak, and had a bad cough. The poor fellow seemed near to his end. This was Tuatara, a native of New Zealand.
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He was the son of a chief, and had been five years at sea. He had been badly treated. He shipped for England, in the Santa Anna, to see King George. To his chagrin, he was not only disappointed in this, but he saw little of London, was ill-used, cheated of all his wages, and was put on board the convict ship Ann, in which Mr. Marsden and his party had embarked.
On hearing his story, the good man felt for him,-- both his sympathy and his indignation were aroused. He took him under his personal care. By proper treatment, Tuatara recovered, and was, ever after, truly grateful. He remained under Mr. Marsden's roof, in New South Wales, for six months after their arrival, and was then forwarded to his own country--a forerunner for the missionaries.
It was the intention of Mr. Marsden to accompany the three missionaries, Messrs. Hall, King, and Kendall, to New Zealand; but the Governor, who had despotic power, forbade him. To him, as to most others, the whole scheme was but the chimera of a pious enthusiast. He would not allow his useful life to be so wantonly exposed.
It was not long before this time, that the news had arrived of the destruction of the Boyd, and that all on board--seventy souls--had been eaten by the cannibals, excepting only one woman and a child, who were reserved for slavery. Mr. Marsden obtained, with difficulty, permission to send the three missionaries, as pioneers, with the promise that if, on the ship's return, all turned out well, he should no longer be hindered. He sent them in the brig Active, and with them a message to Tuatara, to receive them kindly, and inviting him to return with them to his house at Paramatta, and to bring along with him two or three friendly chiefs.
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They were the first messengers of peace to New Zealand; and on their arrival at the Bay of Islands, Tuatara was there to greet them, and to repay, a thousand-fold, the kindness of his friend, the minister of Paramatta, in the welcome he secured for these defenceless strangers.
How wonderfully do the providence and grace of God combine for the fulfilment of His purposes of mercy! The poor, despised, maltreated Maori, on board the ship, becomes, in the hand of God, and through the kindness of His servant, the instrument of opening this "great door and effectual" for the preaching of the "glorious Gospel of the blessed God."
Poor Tuatara owed no gratitude to the white man, except his patron. He had left Sydney under an express engagement that he should be set on shore at the Bay of Islands, where his tribe lived. But although the vessel passed within two miles of his own shores, and in sight of his long-lost home, he was carried to Norfolk Island, and left there. He was defrauded, too, of his share of the oil he had taken with his companions, worth a hundred pounds.
A whaler found him there almost naked, and in the last stage of want, and took him once more to Australia, and to Mr. Marsden. After another short stay, he sailed again from Sydney, and, to his great joy, soon found himself among his own people. How much he would have to relate to them! The tale of his wrongs was enough to kindle, in their vengeful hearts, a burning rage which might, if opportunity offered, excite them to deeds similar to that which befell the Boyd. But the story of Mr. Marsden's kindness was a makeweight in the other scale.
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Among the things which his friend had given him, was a supply of wheat for seed. Nothing like a field of grain of any kind had yet waved its golden ears on that fertile soil. To Tuatara was committed the honour of sowing the first crop of wheat, in a country destined, within forty years, to rival the best farms in England, both in the value of its crops, and the variety of its produce.
The green blade, and then the growing corn, were viewed with wonder by the natives. They knew the value of roots; but how the wheat could yield the flour, out of which the bread and biscuits, they had eaten in English ships, were made, was more than they could understand. They tore up some of the stalks, expecting to find something like their own potato at the root. That the ears should furnish the substance of a loaf of bread, was not to be believed. Either Tuatara was playing a trick with them, or he had himself been duped, and they were not going to be so taken in.
Tuatara had only to wait. The field was reaped, and the corn threshed out: then he found himself minus a mill! He tried in vain to grind his corn in a coffee-mill, borrowed from a trading ship; and now his friends laughed at him for his simplicity.
Fortunately, the missionaries brought him a hand-mill. Still incredulous, the people assembled to watch the result; but when the meal began to stream out beneath the machine, their surprise was great; and when a cake was hastily baked in a frying-pan, they shouted, and they danced for joy. Tuatara was now believed. He was right in the matter of the wheat, and they could trust him as to his report of the missionaries: they were good men. Thus the first favourable impression was
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made upon the savage Maories, whose race was, in the next generation, to become a civilized and Christian people.
Messrs. Hall and Kendall returned to Sydney on the 22nd August, 1814. Tuatara, and six other chiefs, accompanied them. Among these was the celebrated Hongi, who was an uncle to Tuatara. They were all of them Mr. Marsden's guests. He had at times as many as thirty New Zealanders in his house at once. He was known, respected, and trusted by them. It was to him a relief and a joy, that the mission had so far succeeded; and, having permission from the Governor, he decided to go with the missionaries, when they returned to the Bay of Islands.
That was in the following November. There was a motley crew on board that small vessel,--savages and Christian teachers, enterprising mechanics, their wives and children, besides cattle and horses. Mr. Marsden's fame had preceded him, and, for his sake, all were kindly received.
The tribes of Wangaroa and the Bay were at war with each other, and Mr. Marsden's first work was to try to make peace between them; and he succeeded. He passed the night among them ashore, and next day invited the chiefs to breakfast on board the Active. Then he gave them presents, explained the objects of the missionaries, and begged them to live in peace with each other.
He had the great satisfaction of seeing the rival chiefs rub their noses together, in token of mutual reconciliation. A little incident served to increase their confidence in Tuatara. He had often told them of the horse and its rider, but was as often laughed at by his
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unbelieving countrymen: but now that the horses were landed, and Mr. Marsden actually mounted on one of them, they stood in crowds and gazed in mute astonishment.
The first Sunday on which the living and true God, was proclaimed in New Zealand, was memorable in its history. Tuatara was very active; on the preceding day he fenced round about half an acre of land, and put up a reading-desk in the centre, covering it with red cloth. He provided seats, for the whites, out of some old canoes: the natives would squat upon the ground. It was a fine summer Sabbath morn, when, from the deck of the vessel, Mr. Marsden saw the English colours hoisted on a flagstaff on this improvised open-air church.
At ten o'clock the bell was rung. All, except the mate and one man, went ashore. Korokoro, Hongi, and Tuatara were dressed in regimentals; they had swords dangling by their sides, and switches in their hands; these were presents they had received from Governor Macquarie. All the people of the settlement were present; but as they could not understand what was said, Tuatara undertook to explain it to them as well as he could.
During the service, they stood up and sat down, at the signals given by Korokoro's switch, and he was regulated by the movements of the Europeans. A very solemn silence prevailed. "I rose up," said Mr. Marsden, "and began the service with singing the Old Hundredth Psalm, and felt my very soul melt within me when I looked at the people and thought of their state." It was Christmas Day, 1814, and the text was in every way appropriate: "Behold, I bring you glad tidings of
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great joy." Thus dawned the first Christian Sabbath in New Zealand.
After this, Mr. Marsden made a short coasting voyage accompanied by twenty-eight chiefs, all fully armed after their own fashion. But he had gained their confidence, and his name acted as a talisman among them. It was necessary to take steps for the location of the missionaries. A piece of land, about two hundred acres in extent, was duly bought and paid for, as their residence. This was the grain of mustard-seed in the soil of that dark country.
Rangiho was the name of the place selected as the first mission station: it was afterwards removed to Te Puna, a little further up the river. Here Mr. King dwelt to the day of his death. I remember seeing the venerable man in 1845, when his head was white with the snows of many years.
Much was hoped for from the influence of Tuatara; but his work was done; he fell sick before Mr. Marsden sailed, and died four days afterwards. He had seen a glimmering of the light, and no more. He wished his friend to pray with him, and he did so; but the superstitions of his country had a firm hold upon him--the priest was with him night and day. He was happy to hear what Mr. Marsden said to him, but could not rise above his pagan fears. When he died, his favourite wife was inconsolable: while the others were cutting themselves, she went a short distance off and hung herself. No one was shocked by it: her mother wept while she was composing the limbs of her daughter, but she applauded the deed; the father looked at the corpse with unconcern; her brothers only smiled, and said "it was a good thing in New Zealand." Mr. Marsden, and ten
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chiefs with him, together with his travelling companion, Mr. Nicholas, landed in Sydney on the 23rd March, 1815.
Mr. Marsden had New Zealand much at heart. In July, 1819, he took with him Mr. Kemp and others, whom he placed at the Kerikeri. Hongi had marshalled an invading force of some thousands, and his fleet of war canoes was ready for sea, when Mr. Marsden appeared. By the force of his influence, he persuaded Hongi to give up his design.
This chief was a remarkable man--a compound of gentleness and ferocity, of chivalry and savagery, of dignity and cruelty. In 1820, he visited England, and gained much attention. George the Fourth honoured him with many marks of royal favour. His majestic person, graceful manners, and gentle disposition, were greatly admired. But his ambition was the more intensely fired. "There is but one king in England," he said, "and there shall be only one king in New Zealand." The possession of arms and ammunition was his great passion.
Returning home, by way of Sydney, he there exchanged other valuable presents for more muskets. There he met Hinaki, a chief from Hauraki, with whom he had an old feud. A mission station was about to be established among his tribe; but Hongi interposed: with a distorted countenance and a contemptuous sneer, he told Hinaki to go home and put his pah in order, for he intended to fight him. After this, they ate at the same table, slept under the same roof, and sailed in the same ship. Hinaki tried to move Hongi from his purpose, but the savage was implacable.
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A fearful battle took place. Hinaki and his people defended themselves bravely, but Hongi's advantage of firearms gave him the victory. Hinaki was shot Hongi scooped out the eye of the dying chief, swallowed it, and drank the warm blood as it oozed from his wounds. About a thousand of Hinaki's warriors were killed, and three hundred of them were roasted and eaten on the field.
Hongi returned to the Bay of Islands, with many captives. His daughter was so infuriated by the loss of her husband, who had been killed, that she took a sword, which had been given to her father by the hand of royalty, and smote off the heads of sixteen prisoners, and then went and strangled herself. From that time Hongi carried devastation over the whole land. In 1827 he destroyed the mission premises at Wangaroa; but at the same time received his death-wound, which ended his life in 1828. He died as he had lived, an unmitigated savage.
Seven times did Mr. Marsden visit New Zealand, and he made some venturesome journeys inland. Sometimes he found the mission reduced to great extremity, and the brethren ready to give it up in despair; but their courage rallied in his presence. At other times, fierce battles were raging among the tribes, and he was able to quell them. He was seventy-two years old when he paid his last visit in 1837. His daughter was with him.
Then he came to Hokianga, in the Pyramus, and stayed over two Sundays with his Wesleyan brethren. I had the privilege of both seeing and hearing him. I marked the high esteem in which the Maories held their benefactor: it gave the lie to those who say
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they have no gratitude. They insisted on carrying him in a kauhoa, or hammock, through the forest to the Waimate.
Old as he was, he visited all the stations in H.M.S. the Rattlesnake. Wars had not yet ceased, but the Gospel had made way. The apostolic Marsden, in contrasting his seventh with his first visit--embracing a period of twenty-two years--saw the fruit appearing, and could "thank God and take courage." Nothing could exceed the gladness of the Maories, in whatever place to which he went. He had almost finished his work. In July he returned to New South Wales, and in the following May entered into his rest. His last words were about New Zealand.
