1827. Born in London, April 1.
1838-45. At school at Eton.
1841. Selwyn goes out to New Zealand as Bishop2.
1845-9. Undergraduate at Balliol College, Oxford3.
1850-1. Visits Germany.
1852-3. Fellow of Merton College, Oxford.
1853. Curate at Alphington, near Ottery.
1854. Accepted by Bishop Selwyn for mission work.
1855. Sails for New Zealand, March. Head-quarters at Auckland.
1856. First cruise to Melanesia.
1860. First prolonged stay (3 months) in Mota.
1861. Consecrated4 first Bishop of Melanesia, February.
1864. Visit to Australia to win support for Mission (repeated 1855). Serious attack on his party by natives of Sta. Cruz.
1867. Removal of head-quarters to Norfolk Island.
1868. Selwyn goes home to become Bishop of Lichfield.
1869. Exploitation of native labour becomes acute.
1870. Severe illness: convalescence5 at Auckland.
1871. Last stay at Mota. Cruise to Sta. Cruz. Death at Nukapu, September 20.
John Coleridge Patteson
Missionary6
New Zealand, discovered by Captain Cook in 1769, lay derelict for half a century, and like others of our Colonies it came very near to passing under the rule of France. From this it was saved in 1840 by the foresight7 and energy of Gibbon Wakefield, who forced the hand of our reluctant Government; and its steady progress was secured by the sagacity of Sir George Grey, one of our greatest empire-builders in Australia, South Africa, and New Zealand. Thanks to them and to others, there has arisen in the Southern Pacific a state which, more than any other, seems to resemble the mother country with its sea-girt islands, its temperate8 climate, its mountains and its plains. A population almost entirely9 British, living in these conditions, might be expected to repeat the history of their ancestors. In politics and social questions its sons show the same independence of spirit and even greater enterprise.
The names of two other men deserve recognition here for the part they played in the history of these islands. In 1814, before they became a British possession, Samuel Marsden came from Australia to carry the Gospel to their inhabitants, and formed settlements in the Northern districts, in days when the lives of settlers were in constant peril10 from the Maoris. But nothing could daunt11 his courage; and whenever they came into personal contact with him, these childlike savages13 felt his power and responded to his influence, and he was able to lay a good foundation. In 1841 the English Church sent out George Augustus Selwyn as first Missionary Bishop of New Zealand, giving him a wide province and no less wide discretion15. He was the pioneer who, from his base in New Zealand, was to spread Christian16 and British influences even farther afield in the vast stretches of the Pacific Ocean.
Selwyn was educated at Eton and King’s College, Cambridge, and these famous foundations have never sent forth17 a man better fitted to render services to his country. In a small sphere, as curate of Windsor, he had already, by his energy, patience, and practical sagacity, achieved remarkable18 results; and it was providential that, in the strength of early manhood, he was selected for a responsible post which afforded scope for the exercise of his powers. In the old country he might have been hampered19 by routine and tradition; in a new land he could mark out his own path. The constitution of the New Zealand Church became a model for other dioceses and other lands, and his wisdom has stood the test of time.
What sort of man he was can best be shown by quoting a story from his biography.37 When the Maori War broke out he joined the troops as chaplain and shared their perils20 in the field. Against the enterprising native fighters these were not slight, especially as the British troops were few and badly led. He was travelling without escort over routes infested21 by Maoris, refusing to have any special care taken of his own person, and his chief security lay in rapid motion. Yet twice he dismounted on the way, at peril of his life, once under an impulse of humanity, once from sheer public spirit. The first time it was to pull into the shade a drunken soldier asleep on duty and in danger of sunstroke; the second to fill up the ruts in a sandy road, where it seemed possible that the transport wagons22 which were following might be upset. Many other incidents could be quoted which show his unconventional ways and his habitual23 disregard for his own comfort, dignity, or safety. In New Zealand he found plenty of people to appreciate these qualities in a bishop.
Though Selwyn was the master and perhaps the greater man, yet a peculiar24 fame has attached to his disciple25 John Coleridge Patteson, owing to the sweetness of his disposition26, the singleness of his aim, and the consummation of his work by a martyr27’s death. Born in London in 1827, he was more truly a son of Devon, to which he was attached by many links. His mother’s brother, Justice Coleridge, and many other relatives, lived close round the old town of Ottery St. Mary; and his father, an able lawyer who was raised to the Bench in 1830, bought an estate at Feniton and came to live in the same district before the boy was fifteen years old. It was at Ottery, where the name of Coleridge was so familiar, that the earliest school-days of ‘Coley’ Patteson were passed; but before he was eleven years old he was sent to the boarding-house of another Coleridge, his uncle, who was a master at Eton. Here he spent seven happy years working in rather desultory28 fashion, so that he had his share of success and failure. His chief distinctions were won at cricket, where he rose to be captain of the XI; but with all whose good opinion was worth having he won favour by his cheerful, frank, independent spirit. If he was idle at one time, at another he could develop plenty of energy; if he was one of the most popular boys in the school, he was not afraid to risk his popularity by protesting strongly against moral laxity or abuses which others tolerated. It is well to remember this, which is attested29 by his school-fellows, when reading his letters, in which at times he blames himself for caring too much for the good opinion of others.
His interest in the distant seas where he was to win fame was first aroused in 1841. Bishop Selwyn was a friend of his family, and coming to say good-bye to the Pattesons before sailing for New Zealand, he said, half sportively, to the boy’s mother, ‘Will you give me “Coley”?’ This idea was not pursued at the time; but the name of Selwyn was kept before him in his school-days, as the Bishop had left many friends at Eton and Windsor, and Edward Coleridge employed his nephew to copy out Selwyn’s letters from his diocese in order to enlist30 the sympathy of a wider audience. But this connexion dropped out of sight for many years and seems to have had little influence on Patteson’s life at Oxford, where he spent four years at Balliol. He went up in 1845 as a commoner, and this fact caused him some disquietude. He felt that he ought to have won a scholarship, and, conscious of his failure, he took to more steady reading. He was also practising self-discipline, giving up his cricket to secure more hours for study. He did not scorn the game. He was as fond as ever of Eton, and of his school memories. But his life was shaping in another direction, and the new interests, deepening in strength, inevitably31 crowded out the old.
After taking his degree he made a tour of the great cities of Italy and wrote enthusiastically of the famous pictures in her galleries. He also paid more than one visit to Germany, and when he had gained a fair knowledge of the German language, he went on to the more difficult task of learning Hebrew and Arabic. This pursuit was due partly to his growing interest in Biblical study, partly to the delight he took in his own linguistic33 powers. He had an ear of great delicacy34; he caught up sounds as by instinct; and his retentive35 memory fixed36 the impression. Later he applied37 the reasoning of the philologist38, classified and tabulated39 his results, and thus was able, when drawn40 into fields unexplored by science, to do original work and to produce results of great value to other students. But he was not the man to make a display of his power; in fact he apologizes, when writing to his father from Dresden, for making a secret of his pursuit, regarding it rather as a matter of self-indulgence which needed excuse. Bishop Selwyn could have told him that he need have no such fears, and that in developing his linguistic gifts he was going exactly the right way to fit himself for service in Melanesia.
Patteson’s appointment to a fellowship at Merton College, which involved residence in Oxford for a year, brought no great change into his life. Rather he used what leisure he had for strengthening his knowledge of the subjects which seemed to him to matter, especially the interpretation41 of the Bible. He returned to Greek and Latin, which he had neglected at school, and found a new interest in them. History and geography filled up what time he could spare from his chief studies. Resuming his cricket for a while, he mixed in the life of the undergraduates and made friends among them. At College meetings, for all his innate42 conservatism, he found himself on the side of the reformers in questions affecting the University; but he had not time to make his influence felt. At the end of the year he was ordained43 and took a curacy at Alphington, a hamlet between Feniton and Ottery. His mother had died in 1842, and his object was to be near his father, who was growing infirm and found his chief pleasure in ‘Coley’s ‘ presence and talk. His interest in foreign missions was alive again, but at this time his first duty seemed to be to his family; and in a parish endeared to him by old associations he quickly won the affection of his flock. He was happy in the work and his parishioners hoped to keep him for many years; but this was not to be. In 1854 Bishop Selwyn and his wife were in England pleading for support for their Church, and their visit to Feniton brought matters to a crisis. Patteson was thrilled at the idea of seeing his hero again, and he at once seized the opportunity for serving under him. There was no need for the Bishop to urge him; rather he had to assure himself that he could fairly accept the offer. To the young man there was no thought of sacrifice; that fell to the father’s lot, and he bore it nobly. His first words to the Bishop were, ‘I can’t let him go’; but a moment later he repented44 and cried, ‘God forbid that I should stop him’; and at parting he faced the consequences unflinchingly. ‘Mind!’ he said, ‘I give him wholly, not with any thought of seeing him again.’
In the following March, the young curate, leaving his home and his parish where he was almost idolized, where he was never to be seen again, set his face towards the South Seas. Once the offer had been made and accepted, he felt no more excitement. It was not the spiritual exaltation of a moment, but a deliberate applying of the lessons which he had been learning year by year. He had put his hand to the plough and would not look back.
The first things which he set himself to learn, on board ship, were the Maori language and the art of navigation. The first he studied with a native teacher, the second he learnt from the Bishop, and he proved an apt pupil in both. In a few months he became qualified45 to act as master of the Mission ship, and the speaking of a new language was to him only a matter of weeks. His earliest letters show how quickly he came to understand the natives. He was ready to meet any and every demand made upon him, and to fulfil duties as different from one another as those of teacher, skipper, and storekeeper. His head-quarters, during his early months in New Zealand, were either on board ship or else at St. John’s College, five miles from Auckland. But, before he had completed a year, he was called to accompany the Bishop on his tour to the Islands and to make acquaintance with the scene of his future labours.
Bishop Selwyn had wisely limited his mission to those islands which the Gospel had not reached. The counsels of St. Paul and his own sagacity warned him against exposing his Church to the danger of jealous rivalry46. So long as Christ was preached in an island or group of islands, he was content; he would leave them to the ministry47 of those who were first in the field. Many of the Polynesian groups had been visited by French and English missionaries48 and stations had been established in Samoa, Tahiti, and elsewhere; but north of New Zealand there was a large tract49 of the Pacific, including the New Hebrides and the Solomon Islands, where the natives had never heard the Gospel message. These groups were known collectively as Melanesia, a name hardly justified50 by facts,38 as the inhabitants were by no means uniform in colour. If the Solomon Islanders had almost black skins, those who lived in the Banks Islands, which Patteson came to know so well, were of a warm brown hue51 such as may be seen in India or even in the south of Europe. Writing in the very last month of his life, Patteson tells his sisters how the colour of the people in Mota ‘is just what Titian and the Venetian painters delighted in, the colour of their own weather-beaten boatmen’.
Selwyn had visited these islands intermittently52 since 1849, and had thought out a plan for spreading Christianity among them. With only a small staff of helpers and many other demands on his time, he could not hope to get into direct contact with a large population, so widely scattered53. His work must be done through natives selected by himself, and these must be trained while they were young and open to impressions, while their character was still in the making. So every year he brought back with him from his cruise a certain number of Melanesian boys to spend the warmer months of the New Zealand year under the charge of the missionaries, and restored them to their homes at the beginning of the next cruise. At Auckland, with its soldiers, sailors, and merchants, the boys became familiar with other sides of European life beyond the walls of the Mission School; and their interest was stimulated54 by a close view of the strength to be drawn from European civilization. By this system Selwyn hoped that they on their return would spread among the islanders a certain knowledge of European ways, and that their relatives, seeing how the boys had been kindly55 treated, would feel confidence in the missionaries and would give them a hearing. This policy commended itself to Patteson by its practical efficacy; and though he modified it in details, he remained all his life a convinced adherent56 of the principle. Slow progress through a few pupils, selected when young, and carefully taught, was worth more than mere58 numbers, though too often in Missionary reports success is gauged59 by figures and statistics.
These cruises furnished the adventurous60 part of the life. Readers of Stevenson and Conrad can picture to themselves to-day the colour, the mystery, and the magic of the South Seas. Patteson, with his reserved nature and his dread61 of seeming to throw a false glamour62 over his practical duties, wrote but sparingly of such sights; but he was by no means insensitive to natural beauty and his letters give glimpses of coral reefs and lagoons63, of palms and coco-nut trees, of creepers 100 feet long trailing over lofty crags to the clear water below.
He enjoyed being on board ship, with his books at hand and some leisure to read them, with the Bishop at his side to counsel him, and generally some of his pupils to need his help. They had many delightful64 days when they received friendly greeting on the islands and found that they were making real progress among the natives. But the elements of discomfort65, disappointment, and danger were rarely absent for long. For a large part of each voyage they had some forty or fifty Melanesian boys on board, on their way to school or returning to their homes. The schooner66 built for the purpose was as airy and convenient as it could be made; yet there was little space for privacy. The natives were constitutionally weak; and when illness broke out, no trained nurses were at hand and Patteson would give up his own quarters to the sick and spend hours at their bedsides. Sometimes they found, on revisiting an island, that their old scholars had fallen away and that they had to begin again from the start. Sometimes they had to abstain68 from landing at all, because the behaviour of the natives was menacing, or because news had reached the Mission of some recent quarrel which had roused bitter feeling. The traditions of the Melanesians inclined them to go on the war-path only too readily, and both Selwyn and Patteson had an instinctive69 perception of the native temperament70 and its danger.
However lightly Patteson might treat these perils in his letters home, there was never complete security. To reassure71 his sisters he tells them of 81 landings and only two arrows fired at them in one cruise; and yet one poisoned arrow might be the cause of death accompanied by indescribable agony. Even when a landing had been effected and friendly trading and talk had given confidence to the visitors, it might be that an arrow was discharged at them by some irresponsible native as they made for their boats.
These voyages needed unconventional qualities in the missioner; few of the subscribers in quiet English parishes had an idea how the Melanesian islanders made their first acquaintance with their Bishop. When the boat came near the shore, the Bishop, arrayed in some of his oldest clothes, would jump into the sea and swim to land, sometimes being roughly handled by the breakers which guarded the coral bank. It was desirable not to expose their precious boat to the cupidity72 of the natives or to the risk of it being dashed to pieces in the surf, so the Bishop risked his own person instead. He would then with all possible coolness walk into a gathering73 of savages, catch up any familiar words which seemed to occur in the new dialect, or, failing any linguistic help, try to convey his peaceful intentions by gesture or facial expression. When an island had been visited before, there was less reason to be on guard; but sometimes the Bishop had to break to relatives the sad news that one of the boys committed to his care had fallen a victim to the more rigorous climate of New Zealand or to one of the diseases to which these tribes were so liable. Then it was only the personal ascendancy74 won by previous visits that could secure him against a violent impulse to revenge.
All practical measures were tried to establish friendly relations with the islanders; and when people at home might fancy the Bishop preaching impressively to a decorous circle of listeners, he was really engaged in lively talk and barter76, receiving yams and other articles of food in return for the produce of Birmingham and Sheffield, axe-heads which he presented to the old, and fish-hooks with which he won the favour of the young. But such brief visits as could be made at a score of islands in a busy tour did not carry matters far, and the memory of a visit would be growing dim before another chance came of renewing intercourse77 with the same tribe. Selwyn felt it was most desirable that he should have sufficient staff to leave a missionary here and there to spend unbroken winter months in a single station, where he could reach more of the people and exercise a more continuous influence upon them. Patteson’s first experience of this was in 1858, when he spent three months at Lifu in the Loyalty78 Islands, a group which was later to be annexed79 by the French.
A sojourn80 which was to bear more permanent fruit was that which he made at Mota in 1860. This was one of the Banks Islands lying north of the New Hebrides, in 14° South Latitude81. The inhabitants of this group showed unusual capacity for learning from the missionaries, and sufficient stability of character to promise lasting82 success for the work carried on among them. Mota, owing to the line of cliffs which formed its coast, was a difficult place for landing; so it escaped the visits of white traders who could not emulate83 the swimming feats84 of Selwyn and Patteson, and was free from many of the troubles which such visitors brought with them. Once the island was reached, it proved to be one of the most attractive, with rich soil, plenty of water, and a kindly docile85 population. Here, on a site duly purchased for the mission, under the shade of a gigantic banyan86 tree, on a slope where bread-fruit and coco-nuts (and, later, pine-apples and other importations) flourished, the first habitation was built, with a boarded floor, walls of bamboo canes87, and a roof of coco-nut leaves woven together after the native fashion so as to be waterproof88. Here, in the next ten years, Patteson was to spend many happy weeks, taking school, reading and writing when the curiosity of the natives left him any peace, but in general patiently conversing89 with all and sundry90 who came up, with the twofold object of gathering knowledge of their dialect and making friends with individuals. While he showed instinctive tact12 in knowing how far it was wise to go in opposing the native way of life, he was willing to face risks whenever real progress could be made. After he had been some days in Mota a special initiation91 in a degrading rite92 was held outside the village. Patteson exercised all his influence to prevent one of his converts from being drawn in; and when an old man came up and terrorized his pupils by planting a symbolic93 tree outside the Mission hut, Patteson argued with him at length and persuaded him to withdraw his threatening symbol. But apart from idolatry, from internecine94 warfare95, and from such horrors as cannibalism96, prevalent in many islands, he was studious not to attack old traditions. He wanted a good Melanesian standard of conduct, not a feeble imitation of European culture. He was prepared to build upon the foundation which time had already prepared and not to invert97 the order of nature.
In writing home of his life in the island Patteson regularly depreciates98 his own hardships, saying how unworthy he feels himself to be ranked with the pioneers in African work. But the discomforts100 must often have been considerable to a man naturally fastidious and brought up as he had been.
Food was most monotonous101. Meat was out of the question except where the missioners themselves imported live stock and kept a farm of their own; variety of fruit depended also on their own exertions102. The staple103 diet was the yam, a tuber reaching at times in good soil a weight far in excess of the potato. This was supplied readily by the natives in return for European goods, and could be cooked in different ways; but after many weeks’ sojourn it was apt to pall104. Also the climate was relaxing, and apt sooner or later to tell injuriously on Europeans working there. Dirt, disease, and danger can be faced cheerfully when a man is in good health himself; but a solitary105 European suffering from ill-health in such conditions is indeed put to an heroic test. Perhaps the greatest discomfort of all was the perpetual living in public. The natives became so fond of Patteson that they flocked round him at all times. His reading was interrupted by a stream of questions; when writing he would find boys standing106 close to his elbow, following his every movement with attention. The mere writing of letters seems to have been a relief to him, though they could not be answered for so long. His journal, into which he poured freely all his hopes and fears, all his daily anxieties over the Mission, was destined107 for his family. But he had other correspondents to whom he wrote more or less regularly, especially at Eton and Winchester. At Eton his uncle was one of his most ardent108 supporters and much of the money which supported the Mission funds came to Patteson through the Eton Association. Near Winchester was living his cousin Charlotte Yonge, the well-known authoress, who afterwards wrote his Life, and through her he established friendly communications with Keble at Hursley and Bishop Moberly, then Head Master of Winchester College. To them he could write sympathetically of Church questions at home, in which he maintained his interest.
During the summer months also, spent near Auckland, Patteson suffered from the want of privacy. At Kohimarana, a small bay facing the entrance to the harbour, to which the school was moved in 1859, he had a tiny room of his own, ten feet square; but the door stood open all day long in fine weather, and he was seldom alone. And when there was sickness among the boys, his own bedroom was sure to be given up to an invalid109. But these demands upon his time and comfort he never grudged110, while he talks with vexation, and even with asperity111, of the people from the town who came out to pay calls and to satisfy their curiosity with a sight of his school. His real friends were few and were partners in his work. The two chief among them were unquestionably Bishop Selwyn, too rarely seen owing to the many claims upon him, and Sir Richard Martin, who had been Chief Justice of the Colony. The latter shared Patteson’s taste for philology112, and had a wide knowledge of Melanesian dialects.
By the middle of 1860, when Patteson had been five years at work, he became aware that the question of his consecration113 could not be long delayed. New Zealand was taxing the Primate’s strength and he wished to constitute Melanesia a separate diocese. He believed that in Patteson, with his single-minded zeal1 and special gifts, he had found the ideal man for the post, and in February 1861 the consecration took place. The three bishops114 who laid hands upon him were, like the Bishop-elect, Etonians;39 and thus Eton has played a very special part in founding the Melanesian Church. What Patteson thought and felt on this solemn occasion may be seen from the letters which he wrote to his father. The old judge, still living with his daughters at Feniton, had been stricken with a fatal disease, and in the last months of his life he rejoiced to know that his son was counted worthy99 of his high calling. He died in June 1861 and the news reached his son when cruising at sea a few months later. They had kept up a close correspondence all these years, which he now continued with his sisters; nothing shows better his simple affectionate nature. They are filled mostly with details of his mission life. It was this of which his sisters wanted to hear, and it was this which filled almost entirely his thoughts: though he loved his family and his home, he had put aside all idea of a voyage to England as incompatible115 with the call to work. To the Mission he gave his time, his strength, his money. Eton supplied him with regular subscriptions116, Australia responded to appeals which he made in person and which furnished the only occasions of his leaving the diocese; but, without his devotion of the income coming from his Merton fellowship and from his family inheritance, it would have been impossible for him to carry on the work in the islands.
In his letters written just about the time of his consecration there are abundant references to the qualities which he desired to see in Englishmen who should offer to serve with him. He did not want young men carried away by violent excitement for the moment, eager to make what they called the sacrifice of their lives. The conventional phrases about ‘sacrifices’ he disliked as much as he did the sensational117 appeals to which the public had been habituated in missionary meetings. He asked for men of common sense, men who would take trouble over learning languages, men cheerful and healthy in their outlook, ‘gentlemen’ who could rise above distinctions of class and colour and treat Melanesians as they treated their own friends. Above all, he wanted men who would whole-heartedly accept the system devised by Selwyn, and approved by himself. He could not have the harmony of the Mission upset by people who were eager to originate methods before they had served their apprenticeship118. If he could not get the right recruits from England, he says more than once, he would rather depend on the materials existing on the spot: young men from New Zealand would adapt themselves better to the life and he himself would try to remedy any defects in their education. Ultimately he hoped that by careful education and training he would draw his most efficient help from his converts in the islands, and to train them he spared no pains through the remaining ten years of his service.
His way of life was not greatly altered by his consecration. He continued to divide his year between New Zealand and his ocean cruise. He had no body of clergy119 to space out over his vast diocese or to meet the urgent demands of the islands. In 1863 he received two valuable recruits — one the Rev67. R. Codrington, a Fellow of Wadham College, Oxford, who shared the Bishop’s literary tastes and proved a valued counsellor; the other a naval120 man, Lieut. Tilly, who volunteered to take charge of the new schooner called the Southern Cross, just sent out to him from England. Till then his staff consisted of three men in holy orders and two younger men who were to be ordained later. One of these, Joseph Atkin, a native of Auckland, proved himself of unique value to the Mission before he was called to share his leader’s death. But the Bishop still took upon himself the most dangerous work, the landing at villages where the English were unknown or where the goodwill121 of the natives seemed to be doubtful. This he accepted as a matter of course, remarking casually122 in his letters that the others are not good enough swimmers to take his place. But caution was necessary long after the time when friendship had begun. In the interval123 between visits anything might have happened to render the natives suspicious or revengeful; and it is evident that, month after month, the Bishop carried his life in his hand.
The secret of his power can be found in his letters, which are quite free from heroics. His religion was based on faith, simple and sincere; and he never hesitated to put it into practice. From the Bible, and especially from the New Testament124, he learned the central lessons, the love of God and the love of man. Nothing was allowed to come between him and his duty; and to it he devoted125 the faculties126 which he had trained. His instinct often stood him in good stead, bidding him to practise caution and to keep at a distance from treacherous127 snares128; but there were times when he felt that, to advance his work, he must show absolute confidence in the natives whatever he suspected, and move freely among them. In such cases he seemed to rise superior to all nervousness or fear. At one time he would find his path back to the boat cut off by natives who did not themselves know whether they intended violence or not. At another he would sit quietly alone in a circle of gigantic Tikopians, some of whom, as he writes, were clutching at his ‘little weak arms and shoulders’. ‘Yet it is not’, he continued, ‘a sense of fear, but simply of powerlessness.’ No amount of experience could render him safe when he was perpetually trying to open new fields for mission work and when his converts themselves were so liable to unaccountable waves of feeling.
This was proved by his terrible experience at Santa Cruz. He had visited these islands (which lie north of the New Hebrides) successfully in 1862, landing at seven places and seeing over a thousand natives, and he had no reason to expect a different reception when he revisited it in 1864. But on this occasion, after he had swum to land three times and walked freely to and fro among the people, a crowd came down to the water and began shooting at those in the boat from fifteen yards away, while others attacked in canoes. Before the boat could be pulled out of reach, three of its occupants were hit with poisoned arrows, and a few days later two of them showed signs of tetanus, which was almost invariably the result of such wounds. They were young natives of Norfolk Island, for whom the Bishop had conceived a special affection, and their deaths, which were painful to witness, were a very bitter grief to him. The reason for the attack remained unknown. The traditions of Melanesia in the matter of blood-feuds were like those of most savage14 nations; and under the spur of fear or revenge the islanders were capable of directing their anger blindly against their truest friends.
The most notable development in the first year of Patteson’s episcopate was the forming of a solid centre of work in the Banks Islands. Every year, while the Mission ship was cruising, some member of the Mission, often the Bishop himself, would be working steadily130 in Mota for a succession of months. For visitors there was not much to see. At the beginning, hours were given up to desultory talking with the natives, but perseverance131 was rewarded. Those who came to talk would return to take lessons, and some impression was gradually made even on the older men attached to their idolatrous rites129. Many years after Patteson’s death it was still the most civilized132 of the islands with a population almost entirely Christian.
A greater change was effected in 1867 when the Bishop boldly cut adrift from New Zealand and made his base for summer work at Norfolk Island, lying 800 miles north-east of Sydney.40 The advantages which it possessed133 over Auckland were two. Firstly, it was so many hundred miles nearer the centre of the Mission work; secondly134, it had a climate much more akin32 to that of the Melanesian islands and it would be possible to keep pupils here for a longer spell without running such risks to their health. Another point, which to many would seem a drawback, but to Patteson was an additional advantage, was the absence of all distraction135. At Auckland the clergy implored136 him to preach, society importuned137 him to take part in its gatherings138; and if he would not come to the town, they pursued him to his retreat. He was always busy and grudged the loss of his time. A contemporary tells us that he worked from 5 a.m. to 10 p.m. and later; and besides his philological139 interests, he needed time for his own study of the Bible. In the former he was a pioneer and had to mark out his own path; in the latter he welcomed the guidance of the best scholars whenever he could procure140 their books. He spoke141 with delight of his first acquaintance with Lightfoot’s edition of St. Paul’s Epistles; he wrote home for such new books as would be useful to him, and he read Hebrew daily whenever he could find time. Into this part of his life he put more conscientious142 effort the older he grew, and was always trying to learn. It may have seemed to many a dull routine to be followed year after year by a man who might have filled high place and moved in brilliant society at home; but from his letters it is clear that he was satisfied with his life and that no thought of regret assailed143 him.
The year 1868 brought a severe loss when Bishop Selwyn was called home to take charge of the Diocese of Lichfield. It was he who had drawn Patteson to the South Seas: his presence had been an abiding144 strength to the younger man, however rare their meetings; and Patteson felt his departure as he had felt nothing since his father’s death. But he went on unfalteringly with his work, ever ready to look hopefully into the future. At the moment he was intensely interested in the ordination145 of his first native clergyman, George Sarawia, who had now been a pupil for nine years and had shown sufficient progress in knowledge and strength of character to justify146 the step. Eager though he was to enrol147 helpers for the work, Patteson was scrupulously148 careful to ensure the fitness of his clergy, and to lay hands hastily on no man. In little matters also he was careful and methodical. His scholars in Norfolk Island were expected to be punctual, his helpers to be content with the simple life which contented149 him. All were to give their work freely; between black and white there was to be equality; no service was to be considered degrading. He did not wish to hurry his converts into outward observance of European ways. More important than the wearing of clothes was the true respect for the sanctity of marriage; far above the question of Sunday observance was the teaching of the love of God.
Foreign missions have come in for plenty of criticism. It is sometimes said that our missionaries have occasioned strife150 leading to intervention151 and annexation152 by the British Government, and have exposed us abroad to the charge of covetousness153 and hypocrisy154. But there are few instances in which this charge can be maintained, least of all in Australasian waters. A more serious charge, often made in India, is that missioners destroy the sanctions of morality by undermining the traditional beliefs of the natives, and that the convert is neither a good Asiatic nor a passable European. This depends on the methods employed. It may be true in some cases. Patteson fully57 realized the danger, as we can see from his words, and built carefully on the foundation of native character. He took away no stone till he could replace it by better material. He was never content merely to destroy.
Another set of critics are roused by the extravagance of some missionary meetings and societies: their taste is offended or (we are bound to admit) their sense of humour roused. It was time for Dickens to wield155 this weapon when he heard Chadbands pouring forth their oily platitudes156 and saw Mrs. Jellybys neglecting their own children to clothe the offspring of ‘Borrioboola Gha’. Such folly157 caught the critic’s eye when the steady benevolence158 of others, unnoticed, was effecting work which had a good influence equally at home and abroad. Against the fanciful picture of Mrs. Jellyby let us put the life-story of Charlotte Yonge, who, while discharging every duty to her family and her village, in a way which won their lasting affection, was able to put aside large sums from the earnings159 of her pen to supply the needs of the Melanesian Mission.
Let us remember, too, that much of the bitterest criticism has come from those who have a direct interest in suppressing missions, who have made large profits in remote places by procedure which will not bear the light of day. Patteson would have been content to justify his work by his Master’s bidding as quoted in the Gospel. His friends would have been content to claim that the actual working of the Mission should be examined. If outside testimony160 to the value of his work is wanted, one good instance will refute a large amount of idle calumny161. Sir George Grey, no sentimentalist but the most practical ruler of New Zealand, gave his own money to get three native boys, chosen by himself, educated at Patteson’s school, and was fully satisfied with the result.
But this simple regular life was soon to be perturbed162 by new complications, which rose from the European settlers in Fiji. As their plantations163 increased, the need for labour became urgent and the Melanesian islands were drawn upon to supply it. In many ways Patteson felt that it was good for the Melanesians to be trained to agricultural work; but the trouble was that they were being deceived over the conditions of the undertaking164. Open kidnapping and the revival165 of anything like a slave trade could hardly be practised under the British flag at this time; nor indeed did the Fiji settlers, in most cases, wish to do anything unfair or brutal166. It was to be a matter of contracts, voluntarily signed by the workmen; but the Melanesian was not educated up to the point where he could appreciate what a contract meant. When they did begin to understand, many were unwilling167 to sign for a period long enough to be useful; many more grew quickly tired of the work, changed their mind and broke their engagements. As the trade grew, some islands were entirely depopulated, and it became necessary to visit others, where the natives refused to engage themselves. The trade was in jeopardy168; but the captains of merchant vessels169, who found it very lucrative170, were determined171 that the supply of hands should not run short. So when they met with no volunteers, they used to cajole the islanders on board ship under pretence172 of trade and then kidnap them; when this procedure led to affrays, they were not slow to shoot. The confidence of the native in European justice was shaken, and the work of years was undone173. Security on both sides was gone, and the missionary, who had been sure of a welcome for ten years, might find himself in face of a population burning with the desire to revenge themselves on the first white man who came within their reach.
Patteson did all that he could, in co-operation with the local officials, to regulate the trade. There was no case for a crusade against the Fiji planters, who were doing good work in a humane174 way and were ignorant of the misdeeds practised in Melanesia. The best method was to forbid unauthorized vessels to pursue the trade and to put the authorized175 vessels under supervision176; but, to effect this in an outlying part of the vast British Empire, it was necessary to educate opinion and to work through Whitehall. This he set himself to do; but meanwhile he was so distressed177 to find the islanders slipping out of his reach, that in the last months of his life he was planning a campaign in Fiji, where he intended to visit several of the plantations in turn and to carry to the expatriated workers the Gospel which he had hoped to preach to them in their homes.
But before he could redress178 this wrong he was himself destined to fall a victim to the spirit of hostility179 evoked180. His best work was already done when in 1870 he had a prolonged illness, and was forced to spend some months at Auckland for convalescence. In the judgement of his friends his exertions had aged75 him considerably181, and the climate had contributed to break down his strength. Though he was back at work again before the end of the summer he was far more subject to weariness. His manner became peaceful and dreamy, and his companions found that it was difficult to rouse him in the ordinary interchange of talk. His thoughts recurred182 more often to the past; he would write of Devonshire and its charms in spring, read over familiar passages in Wordsworth, or fall into quiet meditation183, yet he would not unbuckle his armour184 or think of leaving the Mission in order to take a holiday in England.
In April 1871, when the time came for him to leave Norfolk Island for his annual cruise, his energy revived. He spent seven weeks at Mota, leaving it towards the end of August to sail for the Santa Cruz group. On September 20, as he came in sight of the coral reef of Nukapu, he was speaking to his scholars of the death of St. Stephen. Next morning he had the boat lowered and put off for shore accompanied by Mr. Atkin and three natives. He knew that feeling had lately become embittered185 in this district over the Labour trade, but the thought of danger did not shake his resolution. To show his confidence and disarm186 suspicion he entered one of the canoes, alone with the islanders, landed on the beach and disappeared among the crowd. Half an hour later, for no apparent reason, an attack was started by men in canoes on the boat lying close off the shore; and before the rowers could pull out of range, Joseph Atkin and two of the natives had been wounded by poisoned arrows which, some days later, set up tetanus with fatal effect. They reached the ship; but after a few hours, when their wounds had been treated, Mr. Atkin insisted on taking the boat in again to learn the Bishop’s fate. This time no attack was made upon them; but a canoe was towed out part of the way and then left to drift towards the boat. In it was the dead body of the Bishop tied up in a native mat. How he died no one ever knew, but his face was calm and no anguish187 seems to have troubled him in the hour of death. ‘The placid188 smile was still on the face: there was a palm leaf fastened over the breast, and, when the mat was opened, there were five wounds, no more. The strange mysterious beauty, as it may be called, of the circumstances almost make one feel as if this were the legend of a martyr of the Primitive189 Church.’41
Miss Yonge, from whom these lines are quoted, goes on to show that the five wounds, of which the first probably proved fatal, while the other four were deliberately190 inflicted191 afterwards, were to be explained by native custom. In the long leaflets of the palm five knots had been tied. Five men in Fiji were known to have been stolen from this island, and there can be little doubt that the relatives were exacting192, in native fashion, their vengeance193 from the first European victim who fell into their power. The Bishop would have been the first to make allowance for their superstitious194 error and to lay the blame in the right quarter. His surviving comrades knew this, and in reporting the tragedy they sent a special petition that the Colonial Office would not order a bombardment of the island. Unfortunately, when a ship was sent on a mission of inquiry195, the natives themselves began hostilities196 and bloodshed ensued. But at last the Bishop had by his death secured what he was labouring in his life to effect. The Imperial Parliament was stirred to examine the Labour trade in the Pacific and regulations were enforced which put an end to the abuse.
‘Quae caret197 ora cruore nostro?’ The Roman poet puts this question in his horror at the wide extension of the civil wars which stained with Roman blood all the seas known to the world of his day.
Great Britain has its martyrs198 in a nobler warfare yet more widely spread. Not all have fallen by the weapons of war. Nature has claimed many victims through disease or the rigour of unknown climes. The death of some is a mystery to this day. India, the Soudan, South and West Africa, the Arctic and Antarctic regions, speak eloquently199 to the men of our race of the spirit which carried them so far afield in the nineteenth century. Thanks to its first bishop, the Church of Melanesia shares their fame, opening its history with a glorious chapter enriched by heroism200, self-sacrifice, and martyrdom.
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1
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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convalescence
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| n.病后康复期 | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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foresight
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| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
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temperate
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| adj.温和的，温带的，自我克制的，不过分的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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daunt
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| vt.使胆怯，使气馁 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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infested
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| adj.为患的，大批滋生的（常与with搭配）v.害虫、野兽大批出没于( infest的过去式和过去分词 )；遍布于 | |
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wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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disciple
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| n.信徒，门徒，追随者 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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attested
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| adj.经检验证明无病的，经检验证明无菌的v.证明( attest的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；声称…属实；使宣誓 | |
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enlist
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| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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linguistic
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| adj.语言的，语言学的 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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retentive
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| v.保留的，有记忆的；adv.有记性地，记性强地；n.保持力 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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philologist
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| n.语言学者，文献学者 | |
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tabulated
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| 把（数字、事实）列成表( tabulate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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rivalry
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| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
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ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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intermittently
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| adv.间歇地；断断续续 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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adherent
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| n.信徒，追随者，拥护者 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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gauged
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| adj.校准的；标准的；量规的；量计的v.（用仪器）测量( gauge的过去式和过去分词 )；估计；计量；划分 | |
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adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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lagoons
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| n.污水池( lagoon的名词复数 )；潟湖；（大湖或江河附近的）小而浅的淡水湖；温泉形成的池塘 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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abstain
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| v.自制，戒绝，弃权，避免 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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cupidity
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| n.贪心，贪财 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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ascendancy
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| n.统治权，支配力量 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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barter
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| n.物物交换，以货易货，实物交易 | |
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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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annexed
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| [法] 附加的，附属的 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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latitude
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| n.纬度，行动或言论的自由(范围)，(pl.)地区 | |
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lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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emulate
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| v.努力赶上或超越，与…竞争；效仿 | |
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feats
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| 功绩，伟业，技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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86
banyan
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| n.菩提树，榕树 | |
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87
canes
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| n.（某些植物，如竹或甘蔗的）茎( cane的名词复数 )；（用于制作家具等的）竹竿；竹杖 | |
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88
waterproof
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| n.防水材料；adj.防水的；v.使...能防水 | |
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89
conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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90
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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91
initiation
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| n.开始 | |
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92
rite
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| n.典礼，惯例，习俗 | |
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93
symbolic
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| adj.象征性的，符号的，象征主义的 | |
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94
internecine
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| adj.两败俱伤的 | |
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95
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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96
cannibalism
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| n.同类相食；吃人肉 | |
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97
invert
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| vt.使反转，使颠倒，使转化 | |
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98
depreciates
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| v.贬值，跌价，减价( depreciate的第三人称单数 )；贬低，蔑视，轻视 | |
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99
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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100
discomforts
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| n.不舒适( discomfort的名词复数 )；不愉快，苦恼 | |
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101
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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102
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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103
staple
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| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
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104
pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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105
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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106
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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107
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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108
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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109
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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110
grudged
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| 怀恨（grudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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111
asperity
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| n.粗鲁，艰苦 | |
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112
philology
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| n.语言学；语文学 | |
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113
consecration
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| n.供献，奉献，献祭仪式 | |
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114
bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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115
incompatible
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| adj.不相容的，不协调的，不相配的 | |
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116
subscriptions
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| n.（报刊等的）订阅费( subscription的名词复数 )；捐款；（俱乐部的）会员费；捐助 | |
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117
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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118
apprenticeship
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| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
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119
clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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120
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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121
goodwill
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| n.善意，亲善，信誉，声誉 | |
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122
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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123
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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124
testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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125
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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126
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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127
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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128
snares
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| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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129
rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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130
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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131
perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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132
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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133
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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134
secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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135
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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136
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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137
importuned
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| v.纠缠，向（某人）不断要求( importune的过去式和过去分词 )；（妓女）拉（客） | |
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138
gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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139
philological
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| adj.语言学的，文献学的 | |
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140
procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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141
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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142
conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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143
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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144
abiding
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| adj.永久的，持久的，不变的 | |
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145
ordination
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| n.授任圣职 | |
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146
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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147
enrol
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| v.（使）注册入学，（使）入学，（使）入会 | |
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148
scrupulously
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| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
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149
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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150
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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151
intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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152
annexation
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| n.吞并，合并 | |
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153
covetousness
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154
hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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155
wield
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| vt.行使，运用，支配；挥，使用(武器等) | |
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156
platitudes
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| n.平常的话，老生常谈，陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 )；滥套子 | |
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157
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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158
benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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159
earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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160
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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161
calumny
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| n.诽谤，污蔑，中伤 | |
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162
perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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163
plantations
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| n.种植园，大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
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164
undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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165
revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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166
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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167
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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168
jeopardy
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| n.危险；危难 | |
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169
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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170
lucrative
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| adj.赚钱的，可获利的 | |
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171
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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172
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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173
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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174
humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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175
authorized
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| a.委任的，许可的 | |
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176
supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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177
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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178
redress
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| n.赔偿，救济，矫正；v.纠正，匡正，革除 | |
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179
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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180
evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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181
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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182
recurred
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| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
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183
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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184
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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185
embittered
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| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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186
disarm
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| v.解除武装，回复平常的编制，缓和 | |
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187
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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188
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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189
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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190
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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191
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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192
exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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193
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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194
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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195
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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196
hostilities
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| n.战争；敌意(hostility的复数)；敌对状态；战事 | |
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197
caret
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| n.加字符号 | |
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198
martyrs
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| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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199
eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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200
heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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