People Talked About

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXX, Issue XV, 11 April 1903, Page 978

People Talked About

A Famous Lecturer.

There are many all over New Zealand who will have read with an almost personal sense of loss of the death of that prince of lecturers, Rev. Chas. Clark, who has several times toured this colony under the wing of the “much travelled” Smythe. No one who heard Clark lecture on Dickens, Thackeray, Macaulay, or, best of all, Westminster Abbey, will ever forget the pleasure they afforded. Gifted with a rich and beautiful voice, Clark brought the art of elocution to its perfection, and his delivery was a marvel of polish. In rolling periods, such as he delighted to quote from Macaulay, he was quite unrivalled, and used frequently to electrify his audience, while never even for a moment did he fail to enchain their attention. Socially he was compact (using the word in its Shakespearian form) of charm, and was as delightful a companion and as splendid a raconteur as man might wish to meet. His stage presence was commanding and picturesque, and he was perhaps the most successful “one man entertainer” who ever visited New Zealand.

Half a Century Ago. “I was designated for New Zealand from my birth,” remarked Dr A. G. Purchas the other day, when talking to a

“Graphic” representative about the good old days when Shortland-street was Auckland, and when you would have been put down as a cheerful sort of lunatic if you had suggested that the site of the

“Town Creek” would in 1903 lie an asphalted thoroughfare with electric ears running every few minutes. The doctor must sometimes stand and wonder (whether it is not all a dream like the “Message from Mars,” when he looks round him at the thousand evidences of twentieth century “hustle” and invention. and contrasts this time with the peaceful past when the Maori used to sit round in his mat watching the British at his trade —Empire-building—

and long black canoes used to thrust their noses ashore somewhere handy to the present Post Office, where it has been dry land these many days. The explanation of the doctor’s remark is that his mother (who died when he was seven years old) had always taken an interest in New Zealand, and had always desired that her first-born should take up missionary work in those distant islands. So when, at the age of 12, the boy was told of his mother’s wish, he said he would fulfil it, and began to prepare himself for his future life, throwing up, it may be mentioned, opportunities to enter the Navy, the Army, and ’ the Indian Ser vice. Dr Purchas, when studying at Guy’s Hospital, met his future Bishop—the first Selwyn—and at his request completed his medical course before starting for the colonies. It was in the latter end of ’44 that the doctor, armed with his diploma, took passage by the good ship Slain’s Castle, and sailed for the other side of the world. It recalls a terrible page in the history of the colony to know that he landed in Nelson just after the Wairau massacre, perpetrated by that cold-blooded scoundrel Rauparaha, who, by the way, is the same gentle creature who gave the Church of England a lot of land at Porirua, and this formed the subject of the recent litigation which ended in the Privy Council. The ship gradually worked up to Auckland. which was reached the day after the sack of Kororareka by Heke’s tribesmen. They were indeed stirring times, and not calculated to make the newcomer particularly enamoured of the place tbat had been chosen for him as the scene of his ’abours. But his hand was to the plough, and there was to be no looking back. His eye was fixed on the furrow. .Mrs Purchas had been left in England, and as the doctor had promised to return in a year to bring her to her new home, he started to retrace his steps, going via Sydney, whither he went in medical charge of the Kororareka refugees in the Slain’s Castle. The promise to return within the year was not kept, hut he was only one day overdue, which it must be admitted was tolerably close to the mark in those

days when the ’rrisco boats were still in the forest or the bowels of the earth. October, 1846, saw the ship of Dr and Mrs Purchas at anchor in the V’aitemata They had exceptionally bad weather at that time, and though the doctor got ashore he could not get back to the ship, where he had left Mrs Purchas. At last he got a boat’s crew from St John’s College and one of the boys in the boat is now no less a person than the Bishop of Waiapu. The new-comer did not achieve his trip without getting soaked, and he laughs heartily to this day when telling you how part of him had to get. into Archdeacon Kissling’s clothes while his own dried. The Archdeacon was a very little man, and the doctor was a very big man, so there were a good many inches of bare arm and leg sticking out. A two-roomed raupo house at Purewa was tne Purchas’ domicile, when they did get ashore, but subsequently they went to live in the Bishop’s house. Dr Purchas entered as a student at St John’s College, and 56 years ago next September was ordained, being one of the early men from the College to take orders. In addition to church work he gave the early settlers the benefit of his skill as a medical man, but never took fees, and many of the people of to-day have to thank him for the timely aid he rendered their forbears. He had a growing family to bring up and educate, and like Goldsmith’s parson, who was passing rich on £4O a year, the man who wore the cloth in those davs was not in receipt of a princely stipend, and in 1864 force of circumstances forced him to fall back upon his profession, which he has practised ever since. About the time the doctor was studying at St John’s, Archdeacon Maunsell was in town engaged in the revision of the translation of the Bible into the Maori language, and the Archdeacon used to go out to Epsom and hold services in a blacksmith’s shop, owned by a family, some members of which afterwards became famous, one of them entering Parliament. “I did not give up Church work altogether, when I began to practise,” says the doctor when speaking of

this time, “but continued to do clerical work at Onehunga for five years. It may sound somewhat strange, but I also went in for road-making. I saw that a connection between Onehunga and the Great South Road by way of Mount Smart, or to give it its fine old Maori name, Rarotonga, and tried to induce the Government to do the work, but they refused, so I went to work, raised subscriptions, and organised parties of pensioners to make the road, and tough work it was. We had to blast a lot of it out of the solid rock.” He tells a very good story of how fie procured the necessary explosives from the authorities, and how he had a lot of it stored in his porch for weeks! There was enough to blow’ Onehunga as it was then sk high. His 1 wisdom in picking upon this route was afterwards fully justified, as the whole of the stores were taken over it to the troops in the Waikato during the most critical time of the war. The first part of St. Peter’s Church. Onehunga, was also due to his energy, and he walked 1.200 miles to collect the subscript ions to erect it! His aspirations in the way of material did not at first go beyond raupo. but. the first man he called on was Sir William Martin, whose £lO donation gave him such heart that he persevered, and soon had a comfortable wooden structure. “I was doctor, clergyman, and engineer in those days,” remarks the doctor with a smile at the rather strange combination it appears in the light of present events. Dr Purchas has a rather good story about Governor Ayre, the man who attained such notoriety in connection with his administration of affairs at Jamaica. The incident of which the doctor tells happened when Ayre was Lieut.-Governor at Wellington. The lady of his choice lived in England, and it was arranged that she should come out to New Zealand to marry him. She came, she saw. and she—left within a few days for Auckland. What caused her to change her mind is not quite clear, but she did, and the Governor was left in Wellington still a bachelor. - The young lady

was determined to get away from him and came up in the Government brig Victoria, and put herself under the care of Mrs Selwyn. One day when Dr. Purchas was attending to his duties at the Mission Station at Otawhao, near Rangiaowhia, in the Waikato, a stranger called and asked for some peaches. With the hospitality characteristic of those times he was asked to remain at the station that night, but he declined, saying that he was in a hurry, and must press on; and he certainly did, leaving the mission people to wonder who their unusual and hasty caller might happen to be. Dr. Purchas came down to Auckland soon after, and learned that the man in a hurry was no other than Governor Ayre, who had pressed through overland from Wellington to Auckland to plead with the lady. He enlisted the sympathies of some of the matrons, and between them they induced the lady to change her mind once more, this time in the Governor’s favour. They were to be married at St. John’s College. “I wish you would have some niee music arranged for the ceremony, when I propose the health of the bride and bridegroom.” said the Bishop to Dr. Purehas, who was sort of precentor to the diocese. The doctor agreed to do so. “Well, what are you going to sing?” asked His Lordship the night before the wedding day. “I have a nice old English song,” was the reply. “Yes, but what is it like?” “Well it is appropriate to the occasion.” But His Lordship was not satisfied, and he pressed the doctor, who rehearsed for him the wellknown old round in which occur the lines: — “If thy nymph no favour show, Choose another —let her go.”

The Bishop’s face was a study. He was afraid something else would have to be put in practice. Finally a pretty round setting forth the duty of a wife to her better half was sung at the wedding breakfast, and everything passed off with eclat. There was a double Maori wedding at the same time, and the European party occupied one end of the hall while their dusky friends supped at the other. They used to have a canny Scot as butler in the Bishop’s household though there was not always a great deal to “butle,” for the Bishop was a plain liver. Here is a characteristic yarn about him. There was some gathering at St. John’s larger than usual, “the appointments” had to be nursed with much finesse to go round. It went off smoothly, and Mrs Selwyn interrogated the major-domo as to how he had got on. “Ah, weel, I just put a knife here, and a fork there, and a spoon—he called it spune —“there,” replied Menzies, “and how did you manage,” queried his mistress,” with so many guests?” “They said nowt, and I said nowt,” answered the Scotchman with the accent on the personal pronouns, and his manner seemed to indicate that nothing more could be said on the subject. Romance of the Rothschilds.

“Mr Balfour has had an interview with Baron Rothschild.” This little item appeared in the cable news recently, and seems to remind us of a story, a romance of real life more remarkable than the most spacious romance of fiction. The Rothschilds are a mighty family who have been for nearly a century the money kings of Europe, and beside whom men like Pierpont Morgan are pigmies of yesterday. There is a story that Jay Gould once called on Lord Rothschild on business. Lord Rothschild sent out word that he was too busy to see the caller. “What! You go back and say that I’m Jay Gould, the American millionaire.” After an interval the reply came back: “Tell Mr Gould that Europe isn’t for sale.” The founder of the house was born at Frankfort in 1743, the son of an obscure Jew who kept a little curiosity shop in the Judengasse, a squalid lane in the depths of the Frankfort ghetto. The child was named Mayer Amschel, and his parents intended him to a rabbi; his father and many of his kinsmen were lights of the synagogue. The boy’s tastes lay in the direction of money-making, however. As a lad he dealt in a small way in curios and old coins; and when he left school he entered the employ of a bank in Hanover. He built a character not only for keenness but for honesty as well. When he had saved enough he started business on his own account, first as a dealer in curiosities and works of art, then as a

banker. His first investment was to buy the freehold of the old house in the Judengasse, and he and his wife lived in it. He was known as the “honest Jew,” and William IX., Landgrave of Hesse, appointed him his Court banker, with the handling of vast revenues. One of his first great strokes was during the Peninsular war, when the English Government could find no banker to undertake the conveying of the specie for our troops into war-ridden Spain. Rothschild did it—naturally, on a heavy commission. He is said to have made £ 150,000 a year over this one deal. Mayer Amschel Rothschild, the son of the ghetto curiosity dealer, died worth millions in his sixtyseventh year. On his death-bed he bade his five sons remain faithful to the law of Moses, remain united to each other, and never to undertake anything without their mother’s consent. “Observe these three points, and you will soon be rich among the richest, and the world will belong to you.” When Waterloo put an end to the Napoleonic wars which had impoverished Europe, every country was crippled with debt. Before 1830, thanks to the loans of the millionaire

Rothschilds, prosperity was restored to Europe. It is said that during fifteen years they lent £ 150,000,000 to the five Great Powers—England, Russia, Austria, France and Prussia. In 1848 the nature of the Rothschilds’ business began to change. Hitherto their speciality had been lending millions to Governments and Kings. After the French Revolution of 1848 the French Government tried the experiment of raising a loan direct from the people, without employing big financiers as middlemen. The experiment was so successful that other Governments did likewise. The Rothschilds were no longer needed in these matters. They turned their attention to commercial and industrial enterprise—banks, railways, mines, and anything else big, Their profits are probably as great as when they held the monopoly in negotiating national loans, but their name lost its peculiar glamour. They still do business with Governments, however. In 1876 they lent the British Government £ 4,000,000 to complete the purchase of the Suez Canal shares. The English branch is now represented by Baron Rothschild, Mr Alfred, and Mr Leopold Rothschild. They are the great-grand-sons of Mayer Rothschild. Their father, the late Baron Lionel Rothschild, was the son of Mayer Rothschild’s third son, Nathan. Baron Rothschild is the moving spirit of the firm. He is a business man to the backbone, and his only relaxation is a good read or a ramble

through the country lanes, which afford a refreshing contrast to St Swithin’slane. Mr Alfred Rothschild is a society man; while Mr Leopold Rothschild looks after his racehorses, leaving society to his wife. Mrs Leopold Rothschild was Miss Marie Perugia, of Trieste; her parents were Italians. She is not only one of the most richly dressed, but one of the best dressed women in society. “They say” that she never wears a pair of gloves more than once. o o o o o An Unpopular Duke, The Due D’Orleans has again been before the public during the week the cable having informed us that he is using the Church and State quarrel to further the ends of the monarchy, and we give herewith pictures of himself and his wife. But it is with small pleasure one gives a portrait of a man —if one can call him so—who dared to insult the British nation by publicly praising a filthy and obscene cartoon of our late Queen, published during the last years of her hon oured life and reign. For some inscrutable reason King Edward, after a year or more of displeasure, during which the Due was told that he would be an unwelcome visitor at the Court of St. James, has thought fit to pardon this royal personage, and he has been received at Court, to the considerable displeasure of a considerable section of the community. It will be remembered that several London clubs erased the Due’s name from their membership lists, and it is unlikely even the passport of “received at Court” will re-open those doors to him.

C. Jenkins, who is the leading horseman for the formidable Porirua stable, and who rides for many owners outside, is rightly regarded as one of our finest exponents of the jockey’s art. He has a capital record to point to. Extending back over the past ten years his average of winning achievements and placed performances is one probably that no other

horseman in New Zealand has beaten in the given time. The exact number of winning rides this young horseman has to his credit are not available, but from a rough compilation it is suggested that he has caught the judge's eye first on over five hundred occasions This year he is likely to be about the top of the list. He is a quiet, unassuming young man, and a credit to his profession. At the Hawke’s Bay and Napier Park meetings he put up the fine record of twelve winning rides, five on one day.