12 May: Boreham on Samuel Marsden

A Master of Men
It will be a sad day for Australia when its people no longer think gratefully of Samuel Marsden, the anniversary of whose death we mark today. He represents one of the truly Homeric figures in the early drama of Australian and New Zealand history. One historian describes him as the most dominating personality in the first half-century of Australian development. He was certainly one of those men, who, in a day in which many interests clashed and many dangers threatened, saw exactly the course that should be followed and possessed the vigour of mind and the strength of will to bend to his, purpose men more highly placed than himself.

Although circumstances required that he should play many parts, he was primarily and pre-eminently a clergyman. In the early months of 1793 the authorities, on the earnest recommendation of men like William Wilberforce and Charles Simeon, had appointed him to a chaplaincy in New South Wales. He immediately married and arranged to take his bride to Botany Bay on the convict ship William, which was to sail in August. In accordance with this plan, he was one Sunday conducting his farewell service at St. John's Church, Hull. He had scarcely entered the pulpit when a gun boomed out. It was the signal that the William was about to put to sea! The minister looked helplessly at the congregation: the worshippers stared in bewilderment at one another. The gun again awoke the echoes. The preacher left the pulpit, and, followed by the entire congregation, hurried to the waterside. Thus dramatically did Samuel Marsden inaugurate his lifework. The voyage was a tedious an trying one; and, within sight of the Australian coast, a baby was born to the young couple who were starting life under such grim conditions.

Laying The Foundation Of An Essential Industry
The chaplain's stipend in the six-year-old colony proving far too slender for his support, Mr. Marsden followed apostolic precedent by labouring with his own hands to minister to his necessities. Happily, his youthful experiences had equipped him for such an emergency. Born of farming stock, he had spent much of his early life among weavers. Could any combination have been more propitious? He obtained a grant of a hundred acres of land which, within ten years, he multiplied twentyfold, and, catching a vision of the boundless possibilities of the country to which he had come, he concentrated on sheep-breeding and wool-producing. He soon rivalled even John Macarthur by his success in these departments of Australian industry and was regarded as one of the most efficient pastoralists in the colony.

His concern for the highest interests of all classes of the community quickly secured for him a dominant position in all moral and spiritual movements. Many of the abuses that had crept into the social life of the infant colony were swept away under the magic of his wholesome influence. In order that he might implement his ideals and enforce his principles, he became a civil magistrate and superintendent of works at Parramatta. And then, after an absence of thirteen years, he revisited the Homeland to report on the progress of the work that he had been sent out to do. Taking with him a sample of wool from his own flocks, he persuaded a Yorkshire weaver to manufacture from it a suit of black clothes. This was so much admired that it came to the ears of the King, who commanded that a similar suit should be made for himself. And, to express his appreciation, George the Third presented Mr. Marsden with five Spanish Merinoes from his own flocks with which to improve still further the chaplain's Australian strain.

Exercising Authority On Both Sides Of Tasman
Mr. Marsden's connection with New Zealand, of no less importance, represents a romance in itself. Pacing the deck of the convict ship on which he originally came out, Mr. Marsden was astonished at beholding in the forecastle a youth of tawny skin. This proved to be a young Maori, Tuatini by name, who, out of sheer love of adventure, had boarded a whaling ship lying in a New Zealand bay and sailed away on her. The two men became fast friends, and their intimacy awoke in Mr. Marsden an intense desire to become the first missionary to the Maori people. "One of these days," he said to Tuatini, when they parted in Sydney, "I'll buy a ship and come across. You just see!" The words were spoken in jest; but the idea haunted Mr. Marsden's mind through all the years; and, in 1814, he carried them into effect.

It was on Christmas Eve that, to Tuatini's inexpressible delight, Mr. Marsden landed at the Bay of Islands. He announced that, with Tuatini as an interpreter, he would conduct his first service on Christmas afternoon. A massive stone cross still marks the lovely spot on which that pioneer service was held. The Maoris had gathered from all the pas in the vicinity. "I stood up," says Mr. Marsden, "and was deeply moved as I looked around at this strange people and pondered on their savage state." These very men and women had killed and eaten the crew of the Boyd a little while before. "Since it was Christmas Day," Mr. Marsden continues, "I told them a story in every way appropriate to the situation. I spoke of the message of the angel to the shepherds of Bethlehem: Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy!" The Maoris were entranced. And those who are familiar with the extraordinarily swift transition of the Maori race from the most ferocious barbarism to complete civilisation will recognise the historic importance of Mr. Marsden's exploit. The marble tablet to his memory at Parramatta was the gift of the Maori people. He thus left the impress of a stalwart and consecrated personality on two young nations; and, in both countries, his name will be held everlasting remembrance.

F W Boreham

Image: Samuel Marsden