The life of John Hunt, missionary to the cannibals

Front matter

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PRINCETON, N. J.

Preface

The materials of this Biography have been long laid by, awaiting the arrangement of far abler hands than mine.

To prevent a still greater delay, I have undertaken the work, not venturing to hope that I have supplied those who knew Mr. Hunt with a portrait which they will deem worthy of its subject, but anxious that the young men of my own generation should not be without the advantage of such a high example.

I claim a lenient criticism from Mr. Hunt's friends, on the ground of my having, to some extent, freshened their remembrance of one of the best men they ever knew; and other readers can afford to deal gently with my shortcomings, in

VI PREFACE.

consideration of the benefit I am permitted to confer upon them, by making them acquainted, however imperfectly, with a rare model of Christian excellence.

G. S. R, Kentish Town, November,. 18S9.

Chapter I. Introductory

"Not unto us, 0 Lord, not unto us, but unto Thy name

GIVE GLORY, FOR TXIY MERCY, AND FOR ThY TRUTH's SAKE."

As John Hunt lay dying in Fiji, where his zeal had eaten up his strength, he turned to a brother Missionary, Mr. Calvert, and said, " Let me go, — a heap of inconsistencies, backslidings, and unfaithfulness. Let me go, as I trust I shall, through Divine mercy alone, — for I have nothing at all in myself, — to heaven. There is nothing in me as an example to recommend, which is not much better furnished in the lives of many which have been written." When told that his survivors would gladly heed his wishes about family and Mission matters, but that he must not bind their hands with regard to himself, he quietly yielded in saying that he would rather

* CHAPTER I.

that tliere should be nothing written concerning him_, more than a short notice of his death.

The dying man was looking at his own life from within_, — from a position which he only could occupy, — and it was not in the cheap cant of a mock humility, but in all sincerity, that he spoke. He read his history as none else could read it. He saw the long and often interrupted processes by which all the good in him had been established. While others noted the triumphs recorded in that history, he recalled the hard fighting which had preceded them. He knew the difficulties in himself that had to be overcome, and the opposition of his own will that had so long resisted or hindered the inner work, the outward manifestations of which others admired. The reception of every additional good into himself had involved penitence for the evil it had displaced. Others looked at his life; he saw Ai/?aself; and, at that moment of all others when he sought, by the simplest faith, to take refuge from himself in the mercy of God, no wonder that he should speak as he did.

But the Church has an entailed interest in the memorials of the faithful and good. The conceit of an olden time gave the famous ones of earth a place in the sky, and traced their images in groups of stars. And the lives of such as have been

INTRODUCTORY. 6

great in their goodness, are to be remembered for the cheering and guiding of those whose voyage is not yet done, and over whom the night still gathers. " The Memory of the just is blessed."

It is encouraging to realize what we are apt sometimes to forget, that Christian heroes are made of the same stuff as other men ; and that, whatsoever we may inscribe on the pedestals to which we elevate them, they still say, " By the grace of God, we are what we are."

The biographer, then, recognises his task as akin to that of the Christian philosopher. It is, in all the historic details of his subject, to follow and point out, as far as may be, " the excellency of the power " which is at work through all. He would collect the admiration and love of many, not to do service at the shrine of a sentimental heroworship, — that their faith should not stand in the wisdom, or goodness, of men, but in the power of God.

'^Now UNTO Him that is able to do exceeding ABUNDANTLY ABOVE ALL THAT WE ASK or think, according to the power that worketh in us, unto him be glory in the Church by Christ Jesus throughout all

AGES, world without END. AmEN."

B 2

Chapter II. Birth And Boyhood

Infancy : Schooling : Early Work and its Trials : Yonng Dreams : Keligious Beginnings and parental Influence : Anxiety for his Mother's Salvation : Brain Fever : Good Purpose : Cottage Prayer- Meeting : First Visit to a Methodist Chapel : Band- Meeting : Change of Situation : Removal to Swinderby.

John Hunt was the third in a family of four children, and was born at Hykeham Moor, near Lincoln, on the 13th of June, 1812. His father lived, at the time, in comfortable circumstances, as the overseer or bailiff on a farm belonging to a gentleman in Lincoln. The property, however, changed hands ; and the bailiff, being thrown out of work, removed, with his family, to Lincoln. Here things went badly with them, and want of employment brought the sufferings of poverty to their home. So low had they come, that the workhouse seemed their only refuge ; and, after remaining two years in the city, they returned to their own parish of Balderton near Newark. Once more the father got work, and from that time was always able to support his family.

Such was the beginning of John Hunt's life.

EARLY ^VORK AND ITS TRIALS. 5

He had from his parents no advantage beyond the example of a sturdy and industrious honesty ; but for that he had more reason to be thankful than many others for their patrimony of wealth and name. And little chance was there, even forty years ago, for country children to gain much learning. John Hunt's school-days were passed under the auspices of the parish pedagogue ; but his education was soon " finished ; " for, at the age of ten years, he began to work on a farm, where, however, he seemed scarcely in his right place. He was thoughtful and serious, and showed signs of mental vigour, so that he could remember the Clergyman's text better than his companions j but this seemed the only point of excellence. He was not handy at his work, and a consciousness of inferiority annoyed him. Farm- boys are susceptible of ambitious feeling, and there is such a thing as emulation in the filling of a dung-cart. Now John Hunt could not handle a fork, or crack a whip, or tie up a plough-line so skilfully as his work-fellows : so he was held by them somewhat in contempt, and nicknamed after a poor idiot in the village ; and, furthermore, because he seemed wanting in robust health, he was recommended by the rude, hearty lads around him to be a tailor. But he bore their jokes as patiently as he could, firmly declaring that he would never change his b CHAPTER II.

business ; wliich resolution he set fortli so often and so pertinaciously, that he carried with him, for years after, the style and title of "Farmer Jack."

Yet, in the secrecy of his own heart, the boy was meditating other things. His father, when a young man, had been a soldier ; but deserted, and joined the navy, where he saw some service; and, besides being in several other important actions, was present at the Battle of the Nile. On a winter's evening, John had often heard the tales of danger and bravery which his father told with much energy ; and he resolved to be a hero. Though his father had deserted, the son longed to enter the army ; and, in many a day-dream, saw himself rising from the ranks, adorned with every military virtue, doing deeds of mighty prowess, commanding, at last, an army which was always victorious, and then returning, covered with glory and laden with unheard-of wealth, to be the pride and support of his aged parents. He never let any one see his air-built castles until many years after, when he was doing battle in a far different service ; but he worked on in the narrow circle of farm-life until the age of fifteen, which he marked as an important period in his career.

Up to this time, his religious history, such as it was, is worthy of note, as showing within it

RELIGIOUS BEGINNINGS. 7

tlie germs of what afterwards sprang up in so strong a growth and such rich fruitage. Neither of his parents could read, and they made no profession of religion ; yet they lived with a strict regard to honesty, and what they knew of moral right ; and the father held somewhat strong views about the reality of God's Providence, and the power of prayer. The mother seldom went to church; but her children were taught to admire and practise all things of good report, while they were warned against idleness, theft, swearing, and other vices. They were trained to say their prayers regularly, and always met with a severe reproof from their mother, if they spoke in slight or ridicule of any minister of religion. John fully believed all his father said about prayer and Providence, and, with great simplicity, acted upon his convictions. He was scrupulously regular in saying his morning and evening prayers ; and often, on leaving the house to go to work, would say quietly, as he shut the door, "Peace be to this house," and so went on his way happy in the belief that the wish was heard above. In guileless consistency, he prayed about all his little difficulties and fears. Thus he asked God to preserve him, when he was frightened about thunder, or dogs, or Gipsies, or anything else that alarmed him; and he always ascribed his safety to the

8 CHAPTER II.

protection of God. When about eleven years old, he was riding, with another boy, on a favourite horse, which they were taking, with the other horses, to turn out in a meadow. The usually quiet animal threw its young riders, and John Hunt was badly cut about the head, either against a fence or by the horse's heels, he never could tell which. But the narrow escape seems to have helped his habitual trust in a merciful God, though he still remained ignorant of the greater spiritual truths of religion. He could read pretty well, and felt much interested in the historical parts of the Bible ; but little inquiry was excited in his mind as to anything further, except that he was sorely puzzled with the words "for ever" as applied to a future state of punishment. Thinking over this again and again, though he felt no fear about himself, he was full of dismay at the thought of his mother being eternally lost, and often prayed very earnestly for her salvation.

While John was quite a boy, his father became deeply impressed by the appeals of some of that simple and zealous order of Christians called " Ranters." He yielded fully to this influence, and for a time seemed to live in the possession of true religion. His son, however, took a great dislike to the Banters, and considered them as fit objects for scorn and contempt, the more readily

BRAIN FEVER. y

as the father was evidently losing much of the good he had obtained. In other respects, too, the fair promise seemed to be less hopeful in the lad's heart. As he got a little older, he became more skilful in his business ; and this fact, while it raised him to an equality with his fellows, had also the ill effect of leading him into closer companionship with them in their sins. He prayed less, and lost much of his earnest feeling about religion. ''However," to use his own words, "he never served the devil half so cleverly as he wished."

When sixteen years old, he fell ill with brain fever, which seemed likely to prove fatal. The thought of death was thus brought closer home to him than ever before, and he was full of dread, being conscious of his unfitness to enter another world. In referring, years after, to this time, he says : " I thought it would be of no use to promise the Lord I would serve Him, if He would spare me, as I had often made such promises and broken them. The only way appeared to be, to begin to serve God there and then, according to the light I had. So I fell on my knees, and began to pray. After prayer 1 read my Bible in earnest, but began with the Book of the Revelation, which considerably affected me, though I understood but little of what I read, having no one to guide me." This fresh growth of good purpose was strength-

10 CHAPTER II.

ened by tlie news that a young acquaintance, who had been ill for a very short time, had died of the same disease as that from which John was recovering. He now began to seek more light ; and as he read and prayed on, with no man to teach him, light came, and God's Spirit taught the simple heart of that seeking one; and that heart grew softer and softer in blessed penitence.

As John was getting stronger, some of his old companions came to see him ; but he found that he could no longer sympathize with them, and that their path and his must henceforth be widely separated. Confirmed by their visit in his purpose to serve God fully, he went one evening into the house of some pious neighbours, and soon began talking about what was uppermost in his thoughts. He spoke of his past life, and remembered, with peculiar bitterness, his having been guilty of the sin of Sabbath-breaking. As he talked, he began to weep; and then the little company knelt down together to pray, and John prayed with them, earnestly seeking the pardon of his sins. He went home comforted, and with a full purpose to tell his mother all he felt. But his heart failed him, and he determined to serve God in secret. His mother, however, soon heard of what had happened at the cottage Prayer-Meeting, and asked him if it was true. He then spoke to her freely^,

BAND-MEETING. 11

and stated his intention of becoming a thorough and professed Christian. Neither she nor any of his friends opposed him. Everything seemed to favour his rehgious improvement. His great want was instruction. The sermons he heard at church did not contain just that form of truth which his state required^ and he hungered for more knowledge.

As John grew stronger, he returned to work, and found, as his companion, a young man who was a Methodist. At his request he went, for the first time, to a Methodist chapel, and heard a sermon from a Local Preacher. The hearty and devout singing of the congregation seems to have affected him powerfully, and he thenceforth became a constant attendant at the chapel, where his mind quickly opened to understand the Gospel. Few of the good people with whom he worshipped knew his real state, until the occurrence which he thus records.

" One Sunday night, after preaching, it was announced that, on a certain night, there would be a public Band-Meeting. What this meant, I could not imagine, and by this time I had lost my Methodist companion ; but I concluded that a sermon would be preached on the occasion, and determined to attend, if possible. Accordingly, at the appointed time, I repaired to the chapel, and

12 CHAPTER II.

found a Leader standing at the door, to prevent improper persons from entering. I was going in as usual, when he mildly stopped me, telling me it was not a general but special meeting, yet adding that he had no objection to my going in, as he believed I was seriously disposed. I went in, and was much struck with the proceedings. The Leader gave out a hymn and prayed, and then told his experience. Others followed, so that it appeared to me the rule of the meeting, that all present should speak. I felt it my imperative duty to rise and state what I knew and felt of religion; but the thought of doing so before a company of Christians made me tremble exceedingly. At length, however, I summoned sufficient courage, and told, in a few plain words, the exercises of my mind. All present seemed much encouraged, and did what they could to encourage me to continue seeking the Lord."

About this time, he was leaving Balderton in search of a place elsewhere, and set out with a full purpose to acknowledge God in all his ways, hoping to get a situation where he would possess religious advantages. He went to the Statutes, but was not engaged. He then accompanied a cousin to the house of a respectable and pious farmer, who at once took him into his service. The thing was done in a hurry. John had never

CHANGE OF SITUATION. 13

intended seeking a situation there, and felt that he had not prayed about it. From the time of his going there, he was never comfortable. His strength failed, and he was convinced that he was not in his right place. In about a month, he left, and attended the market at Newark, taking his stand among the servants who wanted places, and fully trusting that God would direct the right person to seek him out. About noon, a stranger came, and at once engaged him to serve his daughter at Swinderby. He then took him to a man who was to be his fellow- servant, and whom John to his great delight found to be a Methodist. This man at once assured his new companion that the situation was just what he wanted ; that there was a Methodist Society at Swinderby, and that the lady he was going to serve was well disposed towards religion. He afterwards found that this was all true, and at once joined the Methodist Society, by becoming a member of a Class. The Class-Leader gave good and profitable counsel to his young charge, who greatly needed it ; for, of late, he had been losing ground. He still tried to serve God with steady purpose, but did it rather from a sense of duty than because his heart was in it. Whatever he had of religion brought him no joy, and very little peace. He heard others talk about an

14 CHAPTER II.

assurance of God's favour giveu by the Holy Spirit ; but, while this was the very privilege he longed after, it seemed a mystery which he had no skill to understand.

Chapter III. Conveksion

Heaes the Eev. John Smith preach : Penitence : Salvation : Temptation : Progress.

The Rev. JoTin Smith was now stationed in the Lincoln Circuit, and news came to Swinderby of the power of his preaching, and of the conversion of many souls. John Hunt determined that he would take the first opportunity of hearing this good man, and, finding that he was to preach at Thorpe, a place not far off, accompanied several others to the service. He afterwards referred to this memorable occasion, as follows : — " There was nothing in Mr. Smith's preaching that particularly struck me. The text was, 'This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.' The sermon was plain, pointed, and powerful, and some parts of it awful ; but the effect on my mind was rather hardening than otherwise. After the sermon a Prayer-Meeting commenced, and, after some time, concluded without anything remarkable. We who were of the Swinderby party

16 CHAPTER III.

thought it time to go home, and left the chapel for that purpose. I felt much dissatisfied, as I was going away exactly as I came, and proposed to return to the chapel and remain a little longer. To this our party agreed. A Prayer-Meeting was still going on in the chapel, and some were seeking mercy. INIr. Smith was praying with a poor woman who could not believe in Christ ; and, feeling what was needed, he cried out, with all his soul and might, ' Send us more power ! ' I knelt near him, and remember, with some little feeling, I said, ' Amen.^ Immediately a most overwhelming influence came upon me, so that I cried aloud for mercy for the sake of Christ ; while I was, in a minute, as completely bathed with tears and perspiration as if I had been thrown into a river. I prayed, as in an agony, for a few minutes. Mr. Smith came to me, and asked me what I wanted. I answered, ' I want my sins to be forgiven for the sake of Christ.^ This was all I knew. I had only one thought, and only one way of expressing it, either to God or man. Mr. Smith asked me if I believed God gave His Son for me. I said, 'Yes.^ He then asked, ^Do you beheve that Christ has died for you ? ' I said, ' Yes.' He then brought me to the point, and asked, 'Do you believe that God is satisfied with the atonement of His Son, and that now, for His sake. He

SALVATION, 17

forgives you ? ' I could not answer this, but cried to God for help, and was enabled to trust in the sufficient atonement of Christ on my personal account. At that moment I felt the pardoning love of God, and cried out, ' I do save ! I do save ! ' — intending to say, 'He does save/ jMr. Smith said, ' No, it is Christ that saves you/ That was what I meant, and what I then proclaimed with a heart full of ' joy unspeakable/ I exhorted all to join me in praising the Lord, and had a most delightful sense of His love, while we sang, ' Praise God, from whom all blessings flow/ We then returned home, rejoicing in God ; but on the way I was tempted to believe it was all a delusion, until the Apostle's words were applied to my mind, ' Above all, taking the shield of faith, whereby ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked : ' and the temptation was utterly dispelled/'

Such was the place and manner of John Hunt's birth into the new life. The man of mighty faith who knelt by him as he struggled out of the last bonds of unbelief, and uttered his first, incoherent joy-cry of freedom, was no stranger to such scenes. He was not one of tliose Ministers who can content themselves with the uniform absence of conversions under their ministry, getting comfort from certain sedative reflections about edify-

18 CHAPTER III.

ing the Clmrcli, instructing believerSj and so forth. John Smith did not make one part of his duty a subterfuge, under which to skulk from the performance of the rest. His heart was too large, and too full of the love of Christ, to let him interpret success as the mere hothouse growth of a shut-in churchism ; and God, whose Gospel he honoured as the Gospel, honoured him, and gave him to see hundreds reclaimed from sin, and made happy and holy in Christ Jesus.

Little did the preacher think whereunto that rough ploughboy's conversion would grow ; and the ploughboy himself little imagined what a course then opened before him. That heart was prepared by God's tilth ; and there the seed lay safe in God's keeping.

At first, the religion of the young convert, who was now about seventeen years old, did not prosper : he noticed many inconsistencies in one who professed to be a Christian, and made them the suloject of conversation elsewhere ; and thus a cloud was brought over his own spirit. After a few months, however, this snare was removed, and John was left alone among those who made no religious pretensions. And now his heart grew stronger in faith, and he advanced steadily in the knowledge and love of God. The cloud passed off, and the young Christian experienced

PROGRESS. 19

all the fresh brightness which belongs to the morning of the new life. He thus describes it : —

"^In no part of my religious course do I remember having such near intercourse with God ; such tenderness of conscience ; such delight in His service, and such compassion for the souls of others. I was persecuted by those around me ; but it was ^for righteousness' sake/ according to their own acknowledgment."

The rigid morality and strict observance of the Sabbath, which were conspicuous in the young Christian servant, exposed him to much ridicule and annoyance ; and he actually left this situation at last, because his principles were not sufficiently elastic and accommodating to suit the looser notions of others. In regard to all other matters, his situation was very comfortable ; but his way to leave was plain, though it was by no means so clear what was the next step to be taken : and a time of painful anxiety followed. But the lad's path was already being turned towards the high career in which he was afterwards to be so greatly distinguished, but of which, then, he had never dreamed.

Chapter IV. Call To Preach

Another Situation : Reading : Self-culture : Hrst public Address : Discouragement : A clear Call : Close Study aud Success : Another Step : Prayer and Diligence : A Candidate for the Wesleyan Ministry : Received for the Foreign Work : Examination in London : Theological Institution.

John Hunt was next engaged by Mr. Wilkinson^ of S winder by, for one year. And an important year it was. The new master was a good man; and, moreover, possessed books, to which his servants had access. Hitherto John's reading had gone very little beyond his Bible. He was now scarcely nineteen years of age, aud had read Banyan's " Pilgrim's Progress," a part of the Methodist Magazine for 1812, and a few tracts. " This," he says, " was my only library, for the first two years after I began to serve God." But now better times had come; and the unlettered youth stood amazed and delighted, as all the treasures of all knowledge seemed to him to be arrayed on the farm-house shelves. Here he first saw the works of Wesley, Paley, and Dwight, aud looked

READING. 21

■with astoriishment at the manifold learning of Plorne's " Introduction," and other kindred works, each of M'hich seemed to open a new world. From this time he began to be a student. He gave himself up eagerly to the reading of Wesley^s " Notes on the New Testament ; " but the first book that thoroughly got hold of him was, ]Mason on " Self- Knowledge ; " and it is impossible to calculate how far the wisdom of that book went to lay the foundation of the young reader's character. During the rare and scanty leisure left by his farm-work, he read diligently ; and new thoughts filled his mind, and the beginnings of a new life were in him, as he strode along beside the team, or follow^ed the plough. Strengthened by the wholesome and nutritious diet afforded by the books within his reach, his mind began to exercise itself; and lookers-on would never have suspected how, beneath that blue smock, there was a heart often beating high with the consciousness of a power it scarcely dared to credit.

Whatever else he read or pondered, John still kept his first book in the first place. As in all his after life, so now, the Bible was the centre of his system of study. There his heart Avas fixed ; and though, as time passed on, his mind, with growing vigour, went forth far, and gatliered much wealth of various lore, yet his heart was

23 CHAPTER IV.

fixed as at first^ and everything he won was stored up where his treasure was. Thus, at the time now referred to, he was accustomed to busy his mind with a set subject, Avhile his hands were engaged in daily toil. Once only does this habit seem to have interfered with his regular work. Once his master gave him orders to take a load of corn to Newark the next morning. John rose betimes, and fed the horses, and made due preparation for the journey ; but, while thus employed, he must have got hold of some specially interesting subject for thought, for he harnessed the horses and set off to market with an empty wagon ! No doubt his meditations were more profitable to himself than to his master. This, however, was quite an exceptional occurrence. No servant more thoroughly served his master. He was always earnest in everything, and would sometimes astonish his employer by the amount of work he would get through in a short time. Generally, the labour of his hands was not hindered by the activity of his mind. Some passage of Scriptui'e usually formed the topic of young Hunt's meditations ; and he set himself to find the main points contained in it, and to trace out the truths which they indicated. Sometimes a feeling would creep over him, as though he were standing before many listeners for whose benefit