Life of John Coleridge Patteson : Missionary Bishop of the Melanesian IslandsYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Religion
Life of John Coleridge Patteson : Missionary Bishop of the Melanesian Islands
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Missions -- Melanesia; Patteson, John Coleridge, 1827-1871
This seems to be the right place for the description which the wife of
Chief Justice Martin gives of Mr. Patteson at this period. The first
meeting, she says, 'was the beginning of an intimate friendship, which
has been one of the great blessings of our lives. After a short stay
at St. John's College, he came into residence at St. Stephen's native
institution, of which Archdeacon Kissling was then the Principal. He
learned rapidly to read and speak Maori, and won all hearts there by his
gentle unassuming manners. My husband was at that time a great invalid,
and as our dear friend was living within five minutes' walk of our house
he came in whenever he had a spare half-hour. He used to bring Archer
Butler's sermons to read with us, and I well remember the pleasant
talks that ensued. The two minds were drawn together by common tasks and
habits of thought. Both had great facility in acquiring languages, and
interest in all questions of philology. Both were also readers of German
writers on Church history and of critical interpretation of the New
Testament, and I think it was a help to the younger man to be able to
discuss these and kindred subjects with an older and more trained mind.
I had heard much of our dear friend before he arrived, and I remember
feeling a little disappointed at first, though much drawn to him by his
gentle affectionate thoughtfulness and goodness. He said little about
his future work. He had come obedient to the call and was quietly
waiting to do whatever should be set him to do. As my husband a few
months later told Sir John Patteson, there was no sudden flame of
enthusiasm which would die down, but a steady fire which would go on
burning. To me he talked much of his home. He used to walk beside my
pony, and tell me about "his dear father"--how lovingly his voice used
to linger over those words!--of the struggle it had been to leave him,
of the dreariness of the day of embarkation. Years after he could hardly
bear to recall it to mind. I remember his bright look the first day it
became certain that we must visit England. "Why, then you will see my
dear father, and tell him all about me!" I knew all his people quite
well before, and when I went to visit his little parish of Alfington I
seemed to recognise each cottage and its humble inmates, so faithfully
had he described his old people and haunts.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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