to confer with or to know the incumbent pastor and his associate
laborers. The arrangements having been completed, his lordship returned
to Honolulu, taking the curate-elect with him to get his baggage,
with the promise that he should return immediately to exercise his
priestly functions for the cure of souls, and as the only authenticated
messenger of Heaven to the benighted and perishing heathen of Hilo.
They came, they saw, they went, but they did not soon return.
It was found that there was one factor in the plot which the shrewd
bishop had overlooked, and that was the _will_ of the people of Hilo.
They had somehow imbibed the doctrine of “Free Agency,” which implies
will and choice and personality.
The bishop’s theory was smooth and perfect, but its practical execution
was so clogged by friction that it failed of success. Letters followed
Bishop Staley to Honolulu stating that neither of his boards had
secured a proselyte or a dollar, that his agents did not act, and that
all things were going on in the old way. This was a damper surely, and
it might be an extinguisher.
But the bishop rallied and appeared again in Hilo; appointed meetings
as before, and wished to know the reasons for the inactivity of his
Hilo agents. His efforts were of no avail. The people could not see
what allegiance they owed to a lord and bishop created in London, or
why they should forsake their “own and their fathers’ friends,” to whom
under God they owed all they knew of civilization and of Christian
truth.
The Reformed Catholics have never established a church in Hilo, and it
is not known that they have a single convert here.
We wish to be liberal and to labor in loving harmony with all who love
our Lord and Saviour, and who pray heartily for His coming and kingdom,
but we pity all who are exclusive, and who vainly set themselves up as
the only true Church.
During the year of 1843, the English corvette _Carysfort_, Lord George
Paulet commanding, made two visits to Hilo.
This young Briton had seized the reins of the Hawaiian Government,
hauled down the national flag, dethroned the king, and established
what he called a Provisional Government. The country was in confused
agitation, and a dark cloud veiled our political sky.
When he arrived he went in person to our prison, commanding the keeper
to open the doors, discharge the prisoners, and give him the keys. The
guilty offenders and criminals feeling that their hour of triumph had
come, rushed out jubilant, and went whither they desired.
[Sidenote: _Lord George Paulet._]
Lord George soon called on us, and introduced himself as the savior
of the country. He was a young, jolly, and sanguine man, of pleasant
manners and very sociable. He seemed at ease, yet self-conscious.
“Well,” said he, “you are now under the British flag; how do you like
it?”
“Well, sir, we choose to be under the Hawaiian.”
“No, no! but the English Government is strong, and your protection is
sure.” “True, but we desire that this weak and small people should be
free and independent. It is a right which should not be taken from them
without just cause.”
“Well, well, but you would rather be under the flag of England than of
France?” “That may be, but we choose the flag of the country for which
we have labored.” “You could not live under the Hawaiian flag. The
French were determined to take your islands as they took Tahiti. I knew
it, and I hastened hither before them and saved the country, and you
ought to thank me.”
All this was spoken in great good humor and self-satisfaction, and his
lordship shook hands and bowed a pleasant good-morning.
He returned to Honolulu, and our native police went immediately in
search of the prisoners he had set free and returned them to the
prisons. Hearing of this, and that the same thing had occurred
in Lahaina, he hastened back with all canvas spread, landed with
body-guard and side arms, went to the prison and opened again its
doors, setting the inmates free. He then inquired for the native judge
who had countermanded his orders by returning the prisoners to jail,
and hastened in person to his house, as the natives said, “_piha i ka
huhu_,” filled with wrath.
But the wide-awake judge having had a hint of his coming, and not
caring to end his judgeship in prison, stole out at the back door and
could not be found.
The commander, to hold the fort, organized a police mostly of
foreigners of a certain class, some of whom had, I think, seen the
inside of a prison, and others who might be fair candidates for such
a place, and giving them strict orders to see that his commands were
executed, he left Hilo for the second and last time. Our new police
were greatly magnified by their office, and were somewhat haughty and
imperious during their brief authority.
Lord George appointed his officers, civil and military, over all
the Islands, enlisted and drilled soldiers among the natives and
foreigners, and taught them rebellion against their lawful sovereign.
[Sidenote: _The Liberation._]
After five months of “torment,” the time of the reign of the locusts
in the Apocalypse, the flag-ship of the good Admiral Thomas arrived
in Honolulu. The English flag was removed from all its staves, the
Hawaiian was raised in all our ports, and the commander of the proud
_Carysfort_ was ordered to salute the royal signal he had dishonored.
To this day it waves and flutters over an independent kingdom, and the
_Carysfort_ with her lordly commander has been seen no more in our
waters.
IX.
_Isolation of the Mission Families--Sufferings on the Inter-Island
Voyages--Their Dangers--Parting with our Children--School
Discussions and Festivals--Native Preachers--Cheerful
Givers--Changes and Improvements._
In the early years of the mission, the trials of separation were often
severe. Hawaii was not only far from all the outer world, but our
islands were separated one from another by wide and windy channels,
with no regular and safe packets, and no postal arrangements, or
regular means of communication.
Add to this, many parts of the islands were so broken by ravines, by
precipices, and dangerous streams, and so widely sundered by broad
tracts of lava, without house, or pool of water to refresh the weary
and thirsty traveler, and without roads withal, that social intercourse
was impossible without great toil and suffering.
As to beloved friends and kindred in the far-off fatherland, it seemed
like an age before we could speak to them and receive answers.
[Sidenote: _Island Remoteness._]
I think it was eighteen months before we received answers to our first
letters sent from Hilo to the United States, a period long enough for
revolutions among the nations as well as in families.
All our flour, rice, sugar, molasses, and many other articles of food,
with clothing, furniture, medicines, etc., came in sailing vessels
around Cape Horn, a voyage of four to six months, so that our news
became old and our provisions stale before they reached us, while our
stationery might be exhausted, our medicines expended, our flour mouldy
and full of worms, before the new supplies arrived. Many a time have we
been obliged to break up our barrel of hardened flour with an axe, or
chisel and mallet.
But after all our inter-island communication was often our more severe
trial. A few old schooners, leaky and slow, mostly owned by native
chiefs, floated about, sometimes lying becalmed under the lee of an
island for a whole week, in a burning sun, with sails lazily flapping,
boom swinging from side to side, and gaff mournfully squeaking aloft.
These vessels were usually officered and manned by indolent and
unskilful natives, who made dispatch, cleanliness, safety, and comfort
no factors in a voyage. They would often be four and even six weeks
in making a trip from Honolulu to Hilo and back, a total distance of
some 600 miles. They knew nothing of the motto, “Time is money.” So
long as they were supplied with fish and poi, all was well. They would
sometimes lash the helm while they went to eat, then lie down and
sleep. We have often found our vessel in this condition at midnight,
captain and all hands fast asleep, and the schooner left to the control
of wind and wave, and without a lamp burning on board. In addition some
vessels were without a single boat for help in the hour of peril.
The cabins being small and filthy, the missionaries slept on deck,
each family providing its own food and blankets, and all exposed to
wind, heat, storm, and drenching waves which often broke upon the deck.
Upon a schooner of forty to sixty tons, there might be one hundred
natives with their dogs and pigs, stoutly contesting deck-space with
them; and often fifty members of missionary families, parents and
children together. These were the families on Molokai and Maui, with,
in many cases, those of the several stations on Hawaii. The crowd was
distressing, and the sickness and suffering can never be told. Mothers
with four or five children, including a tender nursling, would lie
miserably during the hot days under a burning sun, and by night in the
rain, or wet with the dashing waves, pallid and wan, with children
crying for food, or retching with seasickness. I have seen some of
these frail women with their pale children brought to land, exhausted,
upon the backs of natives, carried to their homes on litters, and laid
upon couches to be nourished till their strength returned.
Does any one ask why these delicate mothers left their homes to suffer
thus nigh unto death?
[Sidenote: _Sorrowful Voyages._]
The answer is this. For the isolated mission families to visit one
another at will, was out of the question. Once a year, provision such
as described was made to bring all together in Honolulu, in what was
styled “General Meeting.” So strong was the social and Christian
instinct, that nearly every parent and child would brave the dangers
and submit to the sufferings of these terrible passages, rather than
deny the intense heart-longings for personal intercourse with their
fellow-laborers “in the kingdom and patience of Jesus Christ.”
We all went with our households and were received cordially by our dear
brethren and sisters in Honolulu, where in consultation on the things
pertaining to the mission work, in prayer and praise and in social
intercourse, we usually spent three or four weeks. Daily meetings were
often held with the children, when with united endeavors we sought
to lead them to Him who has said: “Suffer little children to come
unto me.” And many of those little ones dated their deepest religious
impressions from those meetings.
Through the providential care of Him who was with us, no lives were
lost in all these dangerous voyages of the early members of the
mission. Two of these leaky, ill-managed vessels were, as we suppose,
sunk in the night while attempting to cross the channel from Maui to
Hawaii, with about two hundred natives on board, eighty of whom were my
church members. Not a spar, not a box nor a bucket from these vessels
has been seen from that day to this.
It is probable that the helm was lashed, and that captain and all hands
were asleep when a squall struck the sails, capsized the vessel, and
all were plunged without warning into the dark abyss of waters.
On one of these lost vessels my second daughter had engaged passage
to return from Honolulu to Hilo, in company with our neighbor, Judge
Austin, and his wife and children. By a sudden impulse and just before
the embarkation, the party changed their minds and took passage on
another schooner bound to the western coast of Hawaii, where they were
safely landed, making their way thence to Hilo by land, a distance of
about seventy-five miles. Had they taken the ill-fated schooner, we
should never have seen our daughter and our neighbors again on earth.
[Sidenote: _The Severing of Families._]
Another trial of painful character has been borne by the missionaries
in the sending of their tender offspring away from their island home
to the fatherland. Surrounded by the low and vulgar throng of early
mission days, with no good schools, and loaded with cares and labors
for the native race, most of the missionaries have felt it a duty
to their children to seek for them an asylum in a land of schools
and churches and Christian civilization. The struggle of parting has
sometimes been agonizing on both sides. Often the child would plead
piteously to be suffered to remain, while at the same time the
mother’s heart yearned over her darling one; but a stern sense of duty
nerved her to the sacrifice, and with a last kiss of farewell she would
commit her son or daughter to the care of the ship-master, and turn
away with a crushed heart to spend sleepless hours in prayers and tears.
Ah! how many of these mothers remember these heart-struggles with a
melting agony, and how many of those scalding tears the Father of
Mercies has known, with the prayers that wrung them out!
Our two elder children remained at their island home until they reached
an age when the thought of separation was less cruel. They then made
the voyage around Cape Horn under the kind care of Capt. James Willis
and his excellent wife.
Later, our second daughter and son were sent to the United States under
favorable circumstances. Our youngest son has returned, and lives near
the old homestead.
Once or twice a year the school teachers and leading members of the
church were called together in Hilo for the discussion of important
questions, and for prayer.
This assembly numbered one hundred, and often more. They came as
delegates or representatives from all the villages, either as
volunteers or as chosen by the people. When assembled for deliberation
a scribe was elected, and a book of records kept, in which minutes of
all important acts were entered. The duration of such meetings varied
from three days to a week, according to the importance and interest of
the discussions.
These representatives we call _Lunas_, overseers. None of them were
ordained as deacons or elders, but their office work was much like
that of class-leaders in the Methodist church. They reported the state
of the schools and of the church members. A list of overtures was
prepared, embracing topics for consideration on a great variety of
subjects pertaining to “The life that now is and to that which is to
come.” The meetings were often pervaded with a delightful spirit of
tenderness and Christian harmony. Prayers were fervent, and there were
exhibitions of native eloquence which were marvelous.
These were excellent occasions for the pastor to instruct the leading
minds of his flock, not only in the rules of order pertaining to
deliberative bodies, but in the duties of parental, filial, fraternal,
matrimonial, social, economical, civil, and spiritual life. The range
of subjects was wide, but simple and practical, and the fruits were
apparent. Many beside the delegates came in, day after day, to these
meetings, both of men and women.
[Sidenote: _School Festivals._]
These were sometimes local and sometimes general. When the schools of
the two districts assembled at the central station, I think we have
had two thousand in the exhibition. Usually the schools would be
dressed in uniforms, each choosing for itself the color which their
tastes dictated. All floated flags and banners of a tasteful style,
and all marched to music, vocal or instrumental, and often prepared by
themselves or their teachers. Some made flutes of the bamboo, and some
composed sweet songs with simple but pleasing music.
Their marchings and simple evolutions, with songs and fluttering flags,
attracted the attention of all, and many came out to witness the gala
picture.
The marching over, the children were arranged under a broad canopy of
green branches, where hymns were sung, addresses made, prayers offered,
and then all partook of an ample feast. Young and old alike were
jubilant.
As numbers of our young and active men desired more full and specific
instruction in the doctrines of the Bible and the duties of life than
they gained in our common exercises, I received about twenty into a
class for daily instruction in systematic theology, Scripture exegesis,
sermonizing, etc.
This school was kept up in convenient terms for several years. It was
not designed to make pastors, but to train a class of more intelligent
workers than the common people. Some of these have since become
preachers and pastors at home, and some have gone to labor in heathen
lands.
The whole number of preachers and missionaries who have gone out from
the Hilo church and boarding-school is: on foreign missions twelve,
with their wives; in the home field, nineteen, or thirty-one ministers
in all.
From the beginning, the Hawaiian churches were taught the duty and
the pleasure of giving to the needy. All the missionaries inculcated
this doctrine, so that it became one of the essential fruits of their
faith. They were not only taught to provide for themselves and their
households, but also to “labor with their hand that they might have to
give to him that lacketh.”
They received these instructions cheerfully, and the stranger, the
friendless, the sick, the unfortunate, and all in distress are cared
for, and there is less physical suffering from hunger and want in this
than in most countries in Christendom.
All this is, of course, favored by the mildness of the climate, but
the disposition and the habit of helping those who need are almost
universal in these islands.
For long years after the arrival of the pioneer missionaries, the
people had no silver and gold, but they had food and kapas and hands
and hearts to help. They gave as they could of their substance; a
little arrowroot, dried fish or vegetables, a stick of firewood, or
a _kapa_. In 1840, the Wilkes Expedition came, and brought silver
dollars; for want of small change, Capt. Wilkes ordered a large amount
of Mexican dollars to be cut into halves and quarters. The natives have
since fully learned the use of coined money.
[Sidenote: _Cheerful Givers._]
It has been my habit to preach on some branch of Christian kindness
on the first Sabbath in every month, and the monthly concert
prayer-meeting has always been kept up in Hilo. The people have been
taught that “it is better to give than to receive,” and that “the Lord
loveth a cheerful giver.” They have given freely for the missions in
Micronesia, and hundreds of dollars have already come back to our
mission treasury from those recently savage islands, so that our
natives think they see a literal fulfillment of the blessed promise,
“Cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find it after many
days.”
They see also that although the Hilo church has given more than one
hundred thousand dollars for the kingdom of God, that they have a
“hundred-fold” more now than when they began.
Indolent and vicious foreigners have often expressed great pity for our
poor natives because they had been trained by “the cruel and covetous
missionaries” to give for the objects of benevolence; but it has now
and then appeared that some of these tender-hearted strangers would not
scruple to eat the natives’ fish and fowl and _poi_ without pay, or to
drive a hard bargain with them in trade, or to refuse to pay an honest
debt. Even Catholic priests professed to pity the Hawaiians because
of the heavy burdens laid upon them by their teachers! And the Mormon
apostles told our people that the Lord “hated and abhorred our New
Moons.”
As our monthly concerts occurred on the first Sunday of every month,
the natives called them “Mahina hou,” which literally means new moon,
or new month; the word “mahina,” moon, being their name for month, or
the division of time marked by the moon. This wicked and deceitful
catch of the Mormons upon the term for monthly concert so troubled and
staggered my people that I went through my whole field, expounding in
every village the first chapter of Isaiah, and the troubled minds were
relieved and reëstablished.
The contributions for benevolence have been given with great apparent
cheerfulness, as if in thorough understanding that “the Lord loveth a
_cheerful_ giver.”
Our custom has been to have the donors come forward and deposit their
offerings upon the table in front of the pulpit, and there has been
an animation and enthusiasm on such occasions most grateful to the
pastor’s heart to witness. I have seen mothers bringing their babes
in their arms, or leading their toddling children, that these little
ones might deposit a coin upon the table. If at first the child clung
to the shining silver as to a plaything, the mother would shake the
baby’s hand to make it let go its hold, and earnestly persevere in her
efforts to teach the tender ones the _act_ of giving before they knew
the purpose. There have been instances where the dying have left with
wife or husband their contribution to be brought forward at the monthly
concert after their death. Such facts make a touching impression.
[Sidenote: _The Monthly Contribution._]
From our small beginnings of four or five dollars a month, we increased
gradually, till the amount has sometimes been two hundred a month.
Before our church was divided our collections amounted yearly to
several thousands, and in one case were as high as six thousand; and
even after we had set off six churches from the mother church, we have
collected over five thousand dollars from the remaining church.
Our people are now greatly diminished by death, and by being drawn away
to the numerous plantations of the islands, upon ranches, into various
industries with foreigners, and by hundreds into Honolulu, and on board
vessels, and yet our monthly collections average more than one hundred
dollars.
These contributions have been widely distributed in the United States
and in other parts; while many thousands of dollars have gone to
sustain our missions in the Marquesas Islands and in Micronesia.
We have also given liberally to sustain our home-work--church building,
Christian education, relief of the poor, and other objects.
When we arrived in Hilo there was but one framed house. There were no
streets, no bridges, no gardens and only a few foreign trees.
Now our town is laid out in streets all named, and with every
dwelling-house numbered. The town is adorned with beautiful shade and
fruit trees, with gardens and shrubbery, vines, and a great variety of
flowers. The scene is like a tropical Paradise. We have read of
“Sweet fields arrayed in living green,”
and here they are spread out before us even on this side of Jordan.
We have foliage of every shade of green, all intermingled; the plumes
of the lofty cocoa and royal palms waving, and the leaves of the mango,
the breadfruit, the alligator-pear, the rose apple, the tamarind, the
loquot, the plum, the pride of India, the eucalyptus, and trailing and
climbing vines, with many-tinted flowers, all glistening and fluttering
in the bright sun and the soft breezes of our tropical abode.
Formerly all our streams were crossed as best they might be, or
suffered to run and roar, to sparkle and foam, to leap their
precipices, and to plunge undisturbed into the sea. Over these brooks
and rivers, in town, and through the district of Hilo, more than fifty
bridges have been built, some of them costing four thousand dollars.
[Sidenote: _Sugar Culture._]
Once our fertile soil produced very little except kalo and the sweet
potato, with a few indigenous fruits; now fruits and vegetables have
increased ten-fold in variety and value. But the great staple product
of the district is sugar.
During our residence here there have been erected seventeen sugar mills
with their feeding plantations, whose total value would probably be
more than one million of dollars, and whose products might be more than
two millions.
If our Government would take hold earnestly of road-making, with the
aid of private enterprise, the value of Hilo soil and of our industries
might be increased more than four-fold in as many years.