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Hi am searching for information regarding Henry Nathan's wife - Jane Hearn's parents.
All I have is:
William Hearn bc 1777
Margaret Reefe bc 1780
they married on 31st December, 1797 in London, England. Children:
Jane b 28th June, 1816 England
Any information would be very much appreciated.
Thanks for your time.
Found this in the Wanganui Herald, 4th April, 1898, via National Library of New Zealand.
"DEATH OF MRS HENRY NATHAN
It is our painful duty to record the death of Wanganui's oldest settler, in the person of Mrs Jane Hearn Nathan, relict of the late Mr Henry Nathan, which occurred at her residence, Glasgow Street at the advanced age of 81 years 10 months. The deceased was a sister of the late Mr George Hearn, of the firm of George Hearn and Co, soap boilers of, Hearn Street, Shoreditch, England. Mr and Mrs Nathan arrived in the colony considerably over half a century ago in the Slain's Castle, landing in Wellington on the 22nd January, 1841 the first anniversary of the arrival of the first vessel in New Zealand. They only remained in Wellington for a few months, and then came on to Wanganui, where they resided till the time of their death. The late Mrs Nathan was of a kind and generous disposition, always willing to assist in cases of sickness and charity, to which many old residents of Wanganui can testify. She it was who dressed the wounds of the survivors of the Gilfillan family after the dreaduful massacre on the No. 2 line in the early forties, and many times since then, during the native disturbances on this coast, the deceased was called on to perform duties that we who live in happy and peaceful times have little idea of.
Mr and Mrs Nathan were the first custodians appointed by the Government to take charge of the old Wanganui Hospital, then a primitive building, in marked contrast to the beautiful structure but recently erected here.
The deceased leaves a grown-up family five sons and five daughters to mourn their loss, viz. Messrs John and Joseph (Palmerston), Anthony (Ohingaiti), William (Stratford), and George (Wanganui) and Mrs Ormsbee and Mrs Bush (Wellington), Mrs Morey and Mrs Coker (New Plymouth) and Mrs Gardiner (Wanganui). The deceased also leaves 30 grandchildren and 37 great grandchildren. The funeral is appointed to leave her late residence on Thursday at 3 p.m."
I found this in the Taranaki Herald dated 6th November, 1893 via National Library of New Zealand.
"Referring to the death of Mr Henry Nathan, the Wanganui Chronicle says -
For some three weeks past Mr H. Nathan had suffered from an affection of the heart, and on Friday, after dinner, which he enjoyed and at which he was quite cheerful, he took a seat on the verandah of his residence, in Glasgow Street, and suddenly without a moan or a murmur, fell back and expired. Mr Nathan was 77 years of age, having been born in 1816, in London, of Irish parents. In 1840, after having learned the trade of a goldsmith, he emigrated to New Zealand, arriving in Wellington in January 22nd, 1841 (the first anniversary of the colony)in the Staine Castle. (This should read Slain's Castle). No work being obtainable in his trade he joined the Police Force and was sent to Wanganui as Sergeant under Sub Inspector Garner. After serving time in that capacity he gave it up and went in for timber cutting, in which line he was very successful, nearly all of the timber of which old Wanganui was built being cut under his supervision. After carrying on that business for many years he went farming on his land at Goat Valley. Having spent some years on the land he sold out and came to live in Wanganui where he soon became a member of the Town Board and remained one until Boards were abolished. He was in the first Municiple Council and continued to be a memeber until he was elected Mayor of Wanganui, but after his Mayoral term had expired he retired from public life.
In the early days Mr Nathan saw some rough times with the Maoris. He was in charge of the party that brought the bodies of the murdered Gilfillan family into town and he also assisted in arresting the murderers. He took great interest in Masonic matters, having been several times Master of both and the local lodges; in fact one of them almost owes it's existence to him. Until latley he enjoyed the best of health. He leaves a widow, five sons and an equal amount of daughters to mourn their loss. Mr Coker of New Plymouth is married to one of the daughters".
Wanganui Herald 3/11/1893
We regret to hear of the sudden death at about 1 o'clock today of Mr Henry Nathan, JP, one of the earlist and most repected of our settlers. Mr Nathan came to Wanganui about the year 1840, and was a resident of the town at the time of his death having filled various public offices. He sat in the Municipal Council for many years and filled the Mayoral chair for one term, at the expiration of which he retired into private life owing to increasing age and bad health. He was a prominent member of the Masonic fraternity, on more than one occassion filling the R.W.M. chair. He leaves a widow and grown-up family to mourn their loss. The deceased had passed the allotted span of man, having reached his 78th year. We in common with the many friends of the family, extend sincere condolences in their bereavement.
Taranaki Herald 4/11/1893
Mr Coker received a telegram from Wanganui on Friday afternoon which stated that Mr Henry Nathan, one of the oldest settlers in Wanganui, died suddenly about 2 o'clock, whilst walking in his garden. Mr Nathan came out in the year 1841 in the ship Oriental, to Wellington, and after a short stay in that city, went to Wanganui, where he settled down some land, and has remained there ever since. Mr Nathan was an ex Mayor of Wanagnui, and very much respected by all who knew him. Mr Coker is a son-in-law of Mr H. Nathan'.
NOTE: Interesting to see 2 different accounts of where and when he died.
I found this in the Evening Post, 16th May, 1913 via paperspast site, National Library of New Zealand.
SHOT DEAD - Tragic Occurence at a Bank
The staff of the Bank of New South Wales, before business for the day began, were startled to hear a shot from one of the teller's compartments. On ascertaining the cause, it was found that an assistant check clerk, named Reginald D. Coker, lay to all appearances dead with a bullet wound to his forehead and a revolver on the table before him. Dr Henry was sent for. Life was extinct when the doctor saw the body. The police then removed it to the morgue. An inquest will be held tommorow.
It is customary for the gold to be brought up from and vaults every morning, before the day's business begins, and the revolvers with which tellers are usually supplied by the bank for use at the counter in case of emergency are brought up at the same time. Mr Coker was known to be much interested in firearms, and, as a matter of fact, he had just completed his Territorial training, in which he also took great interest. It is thought that he was merely inspecting the weapon that killed him by the posture in which he was found - sitting down, as if to more easily examine the revolver. He was struck in the forehead as if he had been looking down the barrel or at the chambers. They were all fully loaded. Personally Mr Coker was regarded by his superior officers as a particulary bright and intelligent young man, and his conduct and ability marked him as one whose career was full of promise. His uncle, Thomas Bush, of Wellington, described his as a happy, cheerful lad with no worries or anxieties of any kind. Mr Bush saw him last evening at 10.30 and he was then in his usual bright and cheery condition.
The deceased was a native of New Plymouth. His mother is at present in Wellington, and is a widow. She intended to settle here. He was the youngest of three sons, and was aged twenty-two.
"The remains of the late Mr R. D. Coker, who was accidently shot in the Bank of New South Wales on Friday morning, were interred in the Karori Cemetry yesterday afternoon. The funeral took place from the residence of the deceased Uncle, Mr Thomas Bush. A military funeral was accorded deceased, who was a member of the 5th Wellington (Infantry) Regiment the escort and firing party being provided by D Company under Captain Hawthorne, and the 5th Regiment Band, under Bandmaster McComish, being also in attendance. The service in the house and at the gravesite was conducted by Chaplain-Major W Shires'.
I found this in the Wanganui Herald dated 31st Oct, 1881 via paperspast, National Library of New Zealand.
'An accident, fortunately unattended with serious consequences to the principal performers in it, took place on the River Bank yesterday afternoon about 6 o'clock. Mr Thomas Bush with his wife and family, had been on a boating excursion up the river and had returned, Mr Bush rowing the boat down to it's mooring place. One of his children, a fine, intelligent little boy, named Charlie, went to the River Bank to look after his father, and on decending a flight of steps nearly opposite Mr Bush's residence, he fell, and was precipitated over a ridge of four feet high into the river. His own screams, and those of other children who were playing near, alarmed his mother, who rushed out of the house and instantly plunged into the river, which at this point was now up to her shoulders, rescuing her boy just as his struggles were over and he was being carried down the stream. The youngster was extracted with difficulty, and is now none the worse for its adventure, but we regret to hear that Mrs Bush has sustained a severe shock, and is seriously unwell'.
I found this in the Manawatu Herald dated 6th Sept, 1894 via paperspast site, National Library of New Zealand.
A Remarkable Episode
The death of Mr Coker calls to mind a romantic episode in his career, and a still more romantic incident in the life of a young English squire who, for some months made Christchurch his home. The facts are stated to have been somewhat as follows:
A yound scion in one of the oldest families in England had made his way to New Zealand, and became stranded in this city. The late Mr Coker, with that keen insight into human character for which he was remarkable, and with that kindly feeling for which hundreds will revere his memory, befriended the young Englishman, set him on his feet, and aided him in returning to his ancestral home. Now comes one of the strangest parts of the story. There were three lives between this young fellow and the ?, and in a few months these were all sleeping with their fathers. One perished in a railway incident, one in a yachting fatality, and the other was killed in the hunting field.
The younger son then came into the estates, and one of the first things he did was to repay Mr Coker for his kindness, as far as the mere money was concerned: and added a warm invitation to his benefactor to come and see him in England. Mr Coker paid the visit when he went to England, and the young fellow devoted himself to his old friend in a way that stamped him as a thorough Englishman. He did more, taking Mr Coker into the old hall, he begged him to select from the trophies and old oak carvings there-in, something to place in the hall of Coker's Hotel in Christchurch. Mr Coker hesitated, objected, remonstrated: but all to no purpose. He made his selection, and the old oak carvings and other valuable relics stand today in the entrance hall of the hotel. Soon after Mr Coker's return, and when the glorious old trophies and carvings were placed in their new home, our late townsman was distressed to hear that the generous heart of the young Englishman had ceased to beat. He also had been killed in an accident. Verily, truth is stranger than fiction.
Ernest was born in 1889 in New Zealand. His parents were Thomas James BUSH and Mary Ann (NATHAN). Ernest ended up performing in the Theatre in New Zealand and in Australia. His family settled in South Australia, Gawler I think. He was my Great Grandfathers brother and I do not know much about him at all.
I found this in the Wanganui Chronicle dated 10th April, 1876 via the paperspast website, National Library of New Zealand.
BUSH'S NEW ESTABLISHMENT
"The shutters of which were taken down for the first time on Saturday night. Taking into consideration the space at the disposal of the artiste, the manner of disposal did infinite credit, whoever he was, and few better arranged or more attractively decorated shop windows have been seen in Wanganui than Mr Bush's on Saturday night. There was little or no attempt at a gorgeous display of colours, but there was a simple blending of shade, the proprietor apparently believing in the motto 'that good wine needs no bush", and an artistic arrangement of fabric which augurs well for the resources of the new establishment".
Thomas and Mary Bush married on 17th March, 1876 at her fathers residence. Thomas was the son of Thomas Bush snr and Eliza (Clark). Mary was the daughter of Henry and Jane (Hearn) Nathan. They opened T. Bush's Drapery in Alpha House, Victoria Avenue, Wanganui a few weeks after they married. I am interested to see if a photo exists of this building and his next business address being Ridgway Street, Wanganui. This was advertised as 'opposite Princess's Theatre' in 1882. Years later they moved to Wellington where he expanded his business. Any information would be greatly appreciated.
I found this rather disturbing article researching my family tree. I was led to this as my GGG maternal Grandfather, Henry Nathan helped track down and arrest the murderers. His wife Jane (Hearn) also helped by dressing the wounds of the injured. It also seems that Henry and Jane's daughter, Jane was taken by the Maoris and returned some years later. This article is taken from the Wanganui Herald, 6th January, 1888 written by Sarah Gilfillan, via paperspast site by National Library of New Zealand.
"There are few in Wanganui who have not heard of the atrocious murder that was committed at the residence of Mr Gilfillan in the Matarawa Valley, near Wanganui, on the 18th April, 1847. Among the old settlers there is yet a vivid recollection left of the feeling this horrible event caused and the subject never mentioned without a shudder. We have recently had handed to us the following account of the affair which, serves to clear up several points as to the reason why Mr Gilfillan acted as he did, and further helps us now-a-days to realise the terrible experiences that were undergone on the fearful night 40 years ago. As Miss Gilfillan says "events of that nature are not easily affaced from the memory" and we are confident that this account though written by one who was then only 6 years of age gives a vivid and true description of what actually took place. The following is Miss Gilfillan's story in her own words.
WHY THIS IS WRITTEN
It has lately come to my knowledge that a very false and cruel impression is abroad concerning the part acted by my father in that terrible affair. I happened, only a few days ago, to see an account of it, written by an army chaplain, which purports to give all the details. These details are, almost all, completely false - a perfect romance, in fact, with a running commentary through on the conduct of my father. It may be wondered where he gained his information when I state that the only persons in whose power it could have been to give it were two children of six and seven years of age respectively, and an older girl, who was then lying apparently at the ??? of death. She had received a crushing wound on the forehead with a blunt billhook, and had it not been for her youth, and the skill and kindness of Dr George Rees, his wife and other friends, who helped to nurse her, she could not possibly have survived. She lay for some three months - as it were, hovering between life and death and has never completely recovered from the effects of the wound.
As to the double-barrelled gun, the obsession of which the reverend romancer makes such a point of, it is true such a gun was in the house buy only a day or two previously my father had discovered that it was rusty, and therefore unfit for use for the time being. Unfortunately he did not at once put it in order, which undoubtedly should not have been the case, but which of us always does the right thing at the right time? His excuse must be that there did not appear to be any immediate danger, and that he, being the only man on the place to do anything which required the strength or intelligence of a full grown man, found little enough time to do all that seemed to be necessary. His was an energetic, I say nature, and such a person seldom have to complain of too much leisure. My eldest brother was a mere child in years, and not at all a strong one, one of my sisters being the person generally sent to help my father when she could be apared from the house, she always preferring outdoor work to any that kept her within doors.
He accuses my father of coolly and deliberately removing himself out of danger, and knowingly leaving his wife and children to be murdered, in spit of my motherís urgent entreaties that he would not leave her. This is directly contrary to the truth. He admits that my father said so, but takes the liberty of doubting his word. From these premises he builds up a very moving yet totally inaccurate account of what afterwards happened. As regards the agonised screams so graphically introduced in his account, as a matter of fact none were uttered, except one, and that certainly not a very loud one, and that certainly not, which I shall mention in itís proper place. As I was the very last to escape from the house before my poor, devoted mother herself fled, I am able with perfect certainty to vouch for the truth of all I shall relate.
I was only a few weeks past my sixth birthday at the time, but the recollection of what happened on that awful night is perfectly distinct and vivid in my mind. Events of that nature are not easily effaced from the memory, and in order to clear my dead fatherís memory from such unjust and cruel imputations, I think it right to send abroad a correct account of the case for the benefit of such as have only heard false ones.
I have no doubt my father would have acted differently had he known what was going to happen. It is very easy, after a thing is over, to say what would have been the right course to pursued, but not always so easy to do the right thing before the time passes at which it would be of any avail. It must also be remembered that my father was the first to be wounded, and that so severely across the back of the head, that he was obliged to creep on his hands and knees instead of walking upright. I have in after years, many times seen and felt the scar which was across the base of the scull ??? Nearly from ear to ear. The boys of whose youth this army chaplain makes so much, were full grown men, though young, and there were six of them, one of the six was, I believe, a lad of about fifteen years of age. The other five were some years older.
THE PRELUDE TO THE TRAGEDY
The evening of Sunday, the 18th of April, 1847, was fine and clear after a fine sunny day. I should judge by the lights in this present month of April, in which I write, that the time was about six oíclock or a little later. Some clothes were out on the grass, having been left out to bleach. My father came into the house and addressing my mother, said - ďMary, you had better send one of the children to fetch in those clothes, for I see a whole mob of Maoris coming down the hillĒ. This was immediately done.
THE AGES OF THOSE PRESENT
Before proceeding any further, I had better give the names and ages of all the members of our family who were in the house at the time. My eldest sister was married, and was living in town. Her only child, an infant of ten months old, was with us on a visit, and was not killed that night. In the morning he was found asleep in the fern where he must have crawled when dropped by Frank, in whose charge he was. He died about two months later in the house of his parents.
The members of the family were as follow - My mother, aged about forty, killed; Mary, nearly sixteen, wounded; Eliza just fourteen, killed; Frank eleven and a half, killed; John, seven and a half, escaped unhurt; Sarah, just six, escaped unhurt; Adam, three and a half, killed; Agnes; nearly four months died in town a few months afterwards; Alexander Allison; Died in town two months afterwards.
THE FIRST ASSAULT
The clothes having been brought in, my father went out to meet the Maoris, and talk to them outside. He was smoking his pipe; some of the natives were also smoking. My brother John went with him, but all the rest of us stayed in the house with my mother. She may have desired to do so, I do not remember. I was watching at the window, and saw everything that went on outside. My father was walking up and down sailor fashion, which was always a habit of his. John was behind him, walking up and down at his elbow. My father and the Maoris were talking quite amicably, without any appearance of ill-feeling, when suddenly, as his back was turned in his walk, one of them struck him on the back of the head with a long handled tomahawk. He immediately staggered round the house to the door, which was opened by my mother to let him in, and immediately re-closed, thus shutting out John, who was close behind. He called out, when my mother let him in and refastened the door. The blood was streaming from my fathers head. My mother bound it up, and wrapped up his neck very thickly to stanch the bleeding. Over all I remember seeing her wrap a sky-blue pelisse belonging to the baty.
WHY HE LEFT
While doing this, she continued to urge him to go away, as she felt sure it was only he who was wanted and that the Maoris did not intent to harm anyone else. At this time, I think no women or children had been harmed by the natives. At last her entreaties prevailed, ask she let him out quietly, it was then dark.
A BRAVE MOTHER
I cannot tell you how soon it was after this, but I think, but I think it was not many minutes, when my mother told us all to go to a bedroom at the other end of the house. We were all crowding through the doorway, when I, who was looking behind me as I went, saw a long handled tomahawk uplifted and brought down on the window, the glass of which I heard falling on the floor. I suppose my mother must have fastened the inner door, through which had escaped, for we were not followed. I only know that she was behind us all the time, and was the last to go through the doorway. The room to which we retreated was a small one, with a bed on each side; leaving a narrow passage at the end of which was a window between the beds. My mother redirected each of us where to go under one of other of the beds; she standing up in the middle of the room. The house was a clay one, and , while we were hiding we three little ones who were under the bed that stood against the outside wall, had to shift our positions, in consequence of a piece of wood which had been thrust through the clay wall. My sister Mary was the first to be sent out through the window, my mother handing after her, her own baby, little Agnes. After a short interval, during which my mother watched at the window, Eliza was put out, having in her charge my brother Adam. Then after another interval, Frank with Alexander Allison, our little nephew, to take care of. My mother watched the whole time and never, by word or sign, let us suppose that she saw or heard anything which might cause us to feel any additional alarm, although to judge from the position in which the bodies were found, she must have seen everything that went on as well as the darkness permitted. While she was thus watching, and we were peering out from under the bed, I saw a Maoris appear at the window holding in his hand a lighted stick which he thrust almost into my motherís face, uttering at the same time a word in his own language, which I think I remember correctly, but do not know the meaning of. She gave a slight scream and started back. I have since thought that this fire stick was probably thrust in to light the room and show how many of us still remained in it. After Frank and Alexander, John was put out, and then shortly afterwards myself. We were lifted gently over the window sill, a low one and deposited with our feet on the ground. It was quite dark only a few stars, and the light from the other side of the house, which had been set on fire. This was the portion we had first escaped from and where a fire had been left burning on the hearth. They were evidently hiding round the corner nearest of the window from which we had escaped. On going few steps from the window I felt myself struck on the right shoulder with some wooden weapon, which knocked me into the drain. This, no doubt, gave my assailant the idea that he had killed me for he appears not to have seen that I instantly clambered out of the ditch and ran away, as it proved in the right direction to ensure my safety. At the gate I met my brother John, who had had the wit to jump into the ditch and run along it, as he afterwards told me. He had very dark hair, and wore dark clothes, which most likely were the two points very much in his favour. Just after meeting him I heard a scream and, looking round, saw the light coloured of my mother moving quickly, she was evidently running. We were so frightened that we caught hold of one anotherís hands and ran round the end of a hill near us. We climbed some distance up the side of this hill, and then lay down in the fern, where we remained till the morning, of course wide awake, and fancying that every little sound we heard was caused by the feet of someone coming to kill us. We lay close together hand in hand afraid to speak above a whisper.
When daylight came, my brother said he knew the way to town, and would take me there, so after some consultation we started, still hand in hand. At the foot of the hill, we came upon my sister Mary, sitting near the edge of the swamp with her little baby still in her lap; both were literally covered in blood - a ghastly sight. We said we were going to town and asked to come with us. She only shook her head, being unable to speak. She afterwards told us, that, afte3r we left her she managed to rise to her feet, and still holding the baby, managed to make her way back to the house. Here she came upon the corpses of my mother, Eliza, and Adam, she fainted, and knew no more till after the arrival of the relief party from town. The body of poor Frank was more to the right. The poor boy had evidently run in the wrong direction, and had thereby made himself visible against the sky. John and I were afraid to go near the house, and travelled on towards the town. There was not even a track through the fern to guide us, but we met under some trees a party of settlers on foot with one on horseback carrying a sack, These trees, I have since been told were in a spot known as the Round Bushes. The horseman, Mr Bell, produced from his sack a loaf of bread, a bottle, and a pancikin. He gave us a large slice bread and a drink of milk. The party then went on, leaving us with friendly Maoris, who carried us on their backs, to the mission station at Putiki, where we were kindly taken care of by Mrs Taylor and her family till other arrangements were made.
The Rev Richard Taylor told me many years later, that the Maori who carried me was John Williams, who afterwards paid a visit to England, and was, I think presented to the Queen. My father was attended by the military surgeon, Dr Philson, now in Auckland I think. My sister was taken kind care of at the house of Dr G Rees, and owes her life under Heavens to his skill and attention, and to the many friends who so kindly took turns in watching by her bedside during the night. She is still alive, being the only left besides myself of all those who were concerned in that terrible event.
As corroborative evidence of the truth of the story thus told by Sarah Gilfillan, we have also the following in the handwriting of Mary Gilfillan, the sister who though so seriously injured, still carefully tented her infant sister, a heroine if ever colonial history produced one. You (Sarah) and John saw all that happened out of doors. I saw mother binding fatherís head. I was sitting in the kitchen close to the window feeding the elder baby when mother almost threw the little one into my arms, as father rushed in. Mother begged him earnestly to save himself. As I neither saw or heard distinctly. I did not exactly what had taken place outside. The Maoris slashed in the window with a tomahawk, as I have good reason to know, for the same tomahawk came dangerously close near to my right shoulder. Mother called to me to run, which I did, with the two babies, and rushed under Elizaís bed. In the meantime Agnes fell asleep, and as Alexander continued to fret, I asked Eliza to take him, which she did; the little one being still asleep, and not stirring even when I received my blow. This is all I can think of at present, except that Maori boy who was standing close to me aimed his hatchet at Frank, who gave a fearful scream, and as I thought ran away. I saw no more, for almost at the same moment I was struck myself.Ē