NEW ZEALAND SOCIETY.

New Zealander, Volume 7, Issue 582, 12 November 1851, Page 2

NEW ZEALAND SOCIETY.

SIR GEORGE GREY'S ADDRESS. A Meeting of the New Zealand Society was held on Friday evening the 26th September, at the Council Chamber, Wellington, his Excellency Sir George Grey in the chair. There was a very numerous attendance ofmemhers. . His Excellency the Piiesidlnt read the following address : — When, Gentleman, I a few months wnce assisted some zealous friends in otgamzing this Society, a proposal was made to me that the Governor-in-Chief for the time being should be ex-officio your President. I then suggested that the adoption! of such a rule might injure the interest of the Society, that the Governor-m-Chief would not necessarily from, bis holdiDg that uffice

have any strong attachment to the interests of science or literature, and that if such should prove to be the case, that then his probable neglect of his duties as your President would injure your interests, arid tend to letard the advancement of the high objects in the promotion of which you have determined (o take an active pait. I further, nt the same time, suggested that so honourable a position as that of your Piesident, ought to be held in some ouler of rotation by those amongst the inhabitants of these Islands, whose attainments and devotion to scientific puisuits best entitled them to sucl) a distinction, without any reference to mere official lank. For it appears to me that in the aristocracy of literature and science, those should be recognised as the actual chiefs whom nature and their own exeitions had in fact made so, and who must therefore necessarily be in these respects the chiefs amongst you, whether or not you termed some other official person as >our President. Moreover, a rank so bestowed upon the Governor-in-Chief in mere official routine, could add nothing to his influence or reputation, whilst the fact of your choosing from amongst your own fellow-colonisti tome person who, from his talents and attainments, you recognised as worthy to be for the time being) our head, would enable you to bestow distinction, not only highly honourable in itself, and therefore a just and fitting incentive to exertion, but which, in the event of some talented colonist of little influence and but little known in Gieat Britain visiting the mother country, might prove of great use and benefit to him, and might, it your choice were well and justly made, enable him by Ins then widely recognised talents and attainments to reflect back lustre upon this Society, whose representative he would be. It was for these reasons, I believe, that you determined, and I think wisely and judiciously determined, to retain in jour own hands the power of electing your President ; and it was, I think, partly as a tribute to the arguments I on that occasion used, partly as a recognition of the efforts that I made for the establishment of this Society, and partly from a feeling of personal good will that you chose me as your first President. For fortunately in this the youngest, and one of the smallest of Britain's colonies, there are already so many pet sons who have gained so considei able a name in scientific and literary pursuits, that no one can even suspect me of an affectation of humility in saying that if mere scientific talents and attainments alone had been considered, tint then some one of them must have heen chosen before me. As, however, your choice fell upon me, I felt it to be my duty to accept the office of your first President, at the same time resolving to do my utmost to aid you in carrying out your views for the nromotion and advancement of science and literature. I am told that some, dissenting from the views I have above expressed of the learning and talents of many in this colony, think that the amount of knowledge that we individually and collectively possess is so trifling, that the attempts we propose to make to preserve it, to increase it, and transmit it to others, are useless and uncalled for. It is true if we measure our knowledge with that now possessed by many of the illustrious men who adorn the scientific circles of Europe, that our learning may be but scant indeed ; but measure their knowledge by the boundless limits of the truths of science and nature, and what do they then .appear to know? nothing — absolutely nothing — measured by such a limit, our knowledge would then be found to be a very important increment of theirs. VVould they from knowing so little be justified in ceasing to strive to learn more, or in wasting scandalously an amount of learning which many successive generations of ingenious and learned men have laboriously acquired, and munificently transmitted to them ; could the learned of these times who have so freely inherited from their ancestors, dare to commit so base u wrong upon their descendants as to waste their rightful inheritance, and to rob them of a birthright which the noblest and most gifted of their race have been accumulating for thousands of years? If there is any truth in such arguments then, I ask, shall those now in New Zealand who have leceived the most important gifts from tbe great of other timea and of other countries, churlishly refuse to strive to profit by such gifts, or to try to transmit them to the young, or the less learned of maturer years, who live around us ; or shall we leave to our descendants tbe lands we have won from the forests — the choice breeds of cattle and horses we have imported from the remote ends of the globe — the bouses we have built amidst the agitations of war and the shocks of nature — the wealth we have accumulated— all material, all physical comforts — and not strive to transmit them the far nobler treasures of a lofty mind, of a highly cultivated intellect, of aspirations after the great and good, which could alone teach them to use wisely for their owu and the general advantage, this fertile country and tbe hardly won material wealth which they will inherit from us ? To call the knowledge we possess trifling may soon be to undervalue it ; it ia built up of innumerable slight increments which have been acquired, each with an amount of labour and previous learning, and after a lapse of time of which we can hardly form an adequate idea. Imagine that a Plato, an Aristotle, a Bacon, or a Newton had declined to make any efforts to increase, or to transmit their knowledge on account of its limited nature, a truth which none felt more fully, or expressed more freely, than themselves, where in such a case would mankind now have stood 1 That we can only darkly guess ; but we can safely affirm that, in such a case, much that at present brightens the prospects of tbe human race on earth, or lightens tbeir toils, oa alleviates their sufferings, would now be wanting. Yet there stand many here who are acquainted with truths, imparted to them by others, -which Plato, Aristotle, Kepler, Bacon, or Newton, would meekly and thankfully have sat at their feet to learn. Should, I ask then, such treasures be wasted t But to take another and a higher ground. Let us with all humility admit our entire ignorance, if we compare our knowledge with tbe boundless limits of the whole realm of science and truth ; our comparative ignorance, if we compare our knowledge with that of the most learned of our own time — but in thus admitting our humble littleness, let us not forget our real dignity and greatness. We stand here the servants of our Maker, with that degree of knowledge which the talents he has endowed us with, and the opportunities afforded us have permitted us to attain. In this respect we are equal with the most learned, the most highly gifted of our time ; neither they nor we have anything of our own — they are the mere stewards of the Most Highgto whom certain talents have been entrusted— so, hkewifl, are we. To all of us equally is committed tbe glorious task of ushering into the world the mankind of the future j upon us, up»n our conduct, upon our exertions, are in a great degree dependent the bappineis, mental and social, of countless generations of unborn men. Should we then, from indolence, from indifference on our parts, suffer a single straggling ray of tbe light of truth to vanish from tbe earth, should we lose any opportunity of enlightening or encouraging any single individual of the masses of mankind who surround us, each one of whom, as well as ourselves, is iv some degree the parent of the future, an influencer of the fate of all who are to be born into the world ? I think, if we view tbe subject in this light, we shall be of opinion that we have begun too late, not too soon ; that a profitable, a noble field of exertion lies open around us, upon every side, before us, as long aa we have strength or capacity to labour fo r tbe welfare of our fellow men. It is evident that such a field of exertion lies open immediately around us, numerous voices are from every side calling us perhaps, with more urgency than on any previous occasion in the history of the human race, to exert ourselves to encourage and foster the spread of knowledge, the establishment of educational institutions, for we have not only to aid in raising the numerous native race that surrounds us from barbarism to civilization, from ignorance to knowledge, but we must remember that it is our duty to aid in providing instruction for the numerous families of our own countrymen, many of whom have not themselves bad tbe advantage afforded them of much educational knowledge, and who are daily withdrawing themselves from the immediate influence of civilized life, and retiring into tbe interior parts of the country, living with and surrounded almost wholly by persons of the native race. Thus, in this respect, a double duty is imposed on us, to raise one race from semi-barbarism, and to take care that some of our own lace do not suffer from their isolation amongst, and their intermixture with a semi-barbarous race. Such maj be said to be a part of the duties of this Society to those who immediately surround them ; our duties to our fellow beings throughout the civilized world are also great, but here our ignorance prevents us from perhaps fully understanding what those duties are, or how we may best fulfil them. We should remember that our ignorance is so great that we are even ignorant of the value of the knowledge we possess 01 might acquire. For the value of knowledge is twofold in its nature; each truth acquired has first its own true pioper value, inasmuch as it is a truth learned, and therefore so much knowledge gained by him who has acquired it. And, secondly, it may have a value infinitely greater for him who knows bow to combine u with other truths— that is, the greater the degree of knowledge possessed by any one person, by so much the more does the value increase of any new

truth that may be imparted to Jiim, or which he may acquire. The mnjonty of us are therefoie but little in a position to estimate the real value of any observations which we may be enabled to make in th>s new country. Facts which we may observe, and which may appear to us to be of little value or entirely uninteresting, may provi? to be to the learned of Europe of the highest possible importance and interest; combined with other facts previously observed and record-d, they may serve to fill up links which were the only ones wanting to furnish the true clue to some mystery of nature, or to establish some truth which may prove of the greatest usefulness to the human race. Nor let us forget that knowledge is progressive, that the next age may bo more learned than that which preceded it, and that observed facts which m the present state of human knowledge cannot so be combined with others as to prove of any great or striking interest may, even within a few years from this time, be found to be of very great value and use for that generation, more learned, more wise than ourselves for whose advent we are now preparing the material and intellectual world. It therefore is, I apprehend, our duty carefully to collect and record facts and information in each department of science and human learning, carefully abstaining from that foolish pride which would lead us to reject as useless all that our ignorance can neither comprehend nor make use of. Regarding our duties under this light we should find that a field of vast usefulness lies open before us. Eveiy creeping moss, or lofty tree, every waving fern, every common plant in this country, every weed that floats its tangles in the sea, is worthy of our observation and study ; numbers of them are wholly unknown to science, numbers of them present new forms and singular anomalies of the highest interest. There is hardly one of the great multitude of plants to which I have alluded, the history and properties of which are fully Known to botanists. We have yet to learn what colours lie hid in their tissues, which shall add now unknown lustres to future works of manufacture and ait; what hidden medical propeities they possess which shall give relief to suffering man— what nutritious substances they afford to mcreabe the amount of food for the nourishment of the human race. Yet we do know that even to «an unlearned race, with no chemical appliances at their command, they yielded several excellent dyes, some medicines in frequent u^e, and many esteemed and nutritious articles of food. Does it then become us, a learned and enquiring race, either to let the knowledge of these subjects which centuries of experience had imparted to the natives be lost for want of recording it, or to refiain from pushing it and carrying it further. Again, if the trees and plapts of these dense and humid forests are worthy of our attention, w e should also remember that there is not a bird that wings its way through them, or which, deprived of wings, with strange ungainly gait wanders through them in search of food, which does not also claim our observation. Some genera and species of these, unable by flight to avoid the enemies w Inch man has introduced amongst them, have already disappeared : others are so fast disappearing, that many natives now living have never seeu them, although they were previously found in numbers 1.1 these islands. Still, there is not a single one of these birds, a record of whose habits and foims would not be of very high interest to science : and already, by the exertions of some of our numbers, several interesting forms of birds, believed to have been extinct, have bpen obtained and transmitted to the naturalists of Europe, and accurate descriptions of them have thus been preserved. But to whichever side we turn our thoughts, we shall find that an equally wide fie]d of scientific enquiry, and of delightful mental reci^ftiou, opens itself. Should we walk along the sea coast, we may remember that the ebb and flow of its tides here have been but very imperfectly observed and recorded, that the great mass of shells it contains are still unknown, — that the multitude of fish it conceals consist for a great part of unknown and most s'riking forms, regarding which some of the most celebrated naturalists are making earnest inquiries, and are receiving but most imperfect answers. So also the geology of these islands is yet most imperfectly known; the few fossil remains that have been discovered have proved to be of the highest possible degree of interest; but who can doubt that when the islands are more perfectly explored, remains of many other striking forms of now extinct animal life will be discovered 1 or can we doubt that tbeir mineral wealth will prore to be as great as the mines already discovered would justly lead us to suppose. We who stand in this country occupy an historical position of extraordinary interest: before us lies a future already brilliant with the light of a glorionflT morn, which we are to usher in to gladden unboru generations. Behind us lies a night of fearful gloom, unillumined by the light of written records, of picture memorials, of aught which can give a certain idea of the pnst, a few stray streaks of light in the form of tradition, of oral poetry, of carved records, are the only guides we bare, and in the gloom of that night «re fast fading out of view, although dim outlines of them are still visible, some of the most fearful spectres which bare ever stalked amongst mankind, in the hideom forms of idolatry, human sacrifices, and cannibalism. The future will almost doubt that such gloomy formß of thought have haunted their then highly cultivated and civilized homes ; and if they could then question us who hare seen these forms ere they wholly vanished, what eager questions they would propose to U 3 regarding their monstrous shapes, their horrid aspect, the rude and inharmonious voices with which, with horrid shouts and yells, their orgiesnvere fulfilled, — how eagerly the poet, the painter, the sculptor, would seek to recover some traits of their terrible lineaments, or of their softer outlines, when they related to scenes of the gentler passions, or of domestic life,— that either a stern aspect or the romantic glow of a primitive itate of existence might be imparted to some work of art. Let us f as far as concerns the past, prepare to ans>*rer these questions, not deeming that our answers will be useful solely to gratify ft mere idle curiosity. In preberving a record of such things, we may be doing more for the benefit of the mankind of hereafter than we at present think of. These may, in the course of generations of successful pursuit of learning, aud in the pride of such learning and power, forget or hardly believ* that their race ever has, or ever could fall so lovr,— and believing that they stand firm and fait, and that their fall is impossible, they may by their own pride be orerthrown. Already twice in the history of tfce human race has mankind, increasing from a few individuals of a single family, who had a perfect knowledge of their Maker, fallen into the depths of ignorance, wretchedness, and wickedness, of the greatness of which we who resida in New Zealand are for the most part living witntssei, Ouce so fearful was the state of wickedness amongst men that all but one family were swept from the earth in a flood. To that family, miraculously saved, was again entrusted a full knowledge of the divine ways, of the tender mercies of God to the good, of his fearful judgment 9 on the wicked. Around us in these and the neighbouring islands are whole races of our fellow men, sprung equally with ourselves from that one family so learned in the ways of God, and yet plunged in the gulls of idolatry and sin, which some of us have witnessed. Bow little could the patriarch on stepping from the ark, his heart swelling with gratitude to nis Maker who had so wonderfully preserved him, believe that in a period so short (as four times the length ot his own life must have seemed to him), such large numbers of his descendants could again have »««»•» low as to have become idolaters, sacrificing fellow men to idols they had set up, or devouring their bodies in their savage triumphs. Jn reflecting on these things if ta difficult to feel assured that some portions of the human race may not yet fora long time either remam in or a-ain sink into habits of idolatry and its attendant vices and should there be even a mere contingency of such 'an event occurring, those may render a great service to their fellow men who take the trouble to »id m compiling for future times a chart, on which are clearly marked out some of the most fearful shoals upon which whole nations have made shipwreck of their hopes and happiness. Even should there be no chance of such a contingency a<*ain overtaking any portion of the humnn race, still , when Christianity and peace have encompassed the globe, and light has shone upon the nature and laws of the whole dealings of the Maker with his creatures from the very commencement of the world, it seems to me that the learned and the wise of those times will, with equal benefit and delight, frequently attempt to retrace the enure history of their race, and then they will look back upon those as benefactors and friends, who iv these times may humbly yet zealously endeavour to preserve some record of the faith, forms of thought, history, language, and laws of a family of the human race, who, from their insular position, were for centuries isolated from all mankind, and thus have a peculiar interest for the Christian, the philosopher, and the historian. I cannot but think that the benevolent of future times would, with astonishment and joy, search eagerly the records which would shew that some centuries ot

idolatry and crime had not wholly obliterated, even in the minds of such a race, a knowledge of their Maker and a desire for his divine laws, and had not left them less prepared for the intioduction of Chustiamty than the most polished Pagans of antiquity were. That, on the contrary, so intolerable was the bin den imposed upon them, that we have seen whole races in all these islands in a few years throw off the yoke of idolatry, and eagerly embrace the Christian faith. That powerful chief-, to gam the benefits of the tiuth, sacrificed worldly rank and power without compensation of any kind, manumitted their slaves whose labour constituted their chief source of wealth, and established in their territories Christianity in its simplest and most primitive form ; although such a proceeding was alike opposed to ther power, prejudice, passions, and apparent worldly inteiesta. Then, when again it was found from the same records that when the next generation arose in the same coun<ry, they bad become colder in their faith, leas ardent in the profession and practice of Clnistianity, 1 think it may yet heie.ifter perhaps be eagerly contended that those are wrong who now attribute this falling off to a mere wearing away of ibe novelty of Cbn&tunity, and that on the contrary it will be alleged that the warmth and ardour of its fiist professor-, arose from their having seen the horrors and evils of the system from which Christianity was their divine and welcome deliverer, and that the comparative apathy and coldness of the next generation of its professors arose from their being unable to make «uch a comparison, and hardly vividly realizing to •themselves the evils of a system which they only knew fcratlitionally, and in the existence of which they could perhaps hardly M\y believe. These and other similar points connected with the past and present history of the inhabitants of the islands of the Pacih'c will, I thiuk, undoubtedly prove of the Li"-hest interest to future times: again, all questions connected with their laws, traditional cu-toms, and languages, must equally attract the attention of postemy, as tending to connect them with other systems of national polity, and to shew their descent from other nations whose history will perhaps be more accurately mown; and aa thus again tending to illustrate and clear up the history of the entire human race, and of all time, considered as one harmonious whole. I fear, Gentlemen, I must have already wearied you by the length at which I have pointed out the many matteis of mtetest to which the attention of this Society mifbt be so beneficially directed. I shall therefore conclude by expressing my earnest wish, that our labours may be productive of benefit, not only for the inhabitants of this country, but even for the learned in Europe ; and by again assuring the member* of the Society of my nnxious desire, as their President, in every way to promote its interests.