Title: A History of the English Church in New Zealand
Author: Purchas, H. T. (Henry Thomas), 1860-1921
Language: English
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A HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH CHURCH IN NEW ZEALAND


                        To the
                     RIGHT REVEREND
                WILLIAM LEONARD WILLIAMS,
                sometime Bishop of Waiapu.

                      THIS BOOK

         is respectfully dedicated in memory of
  the eminent services rendered to the New Zealand Church
           by himself and others of his name.


[Illustration: REV. SAMUEL MARSDEN.]


A HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH CHURCH IN NEW ZEALAND

by

H. T. PURCHAS, M.A.

Vicar of Glenmark, N.Z.
Canon of Christchurch Cathedral, and Examining
Chaplain to the Bishop.

Author of
"Bishop Harper and the Canterbury Settlement,"
"Johannine Problems and Modern Needs."



Simpson & Williams Limited
Christchurch, N.Z.
G. Robertson & Co. Propy. Ltd., Melbourne.
Sampson Low & Co. Ltd., London.
1914

       *       *       *       *       *


_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_

Bishop Harper and the Canterbury Settlement.


_PRESS NOTICES_

Original Edition.

"We are glad to welcome this book. It has been very well written; it is
interesting throughout; one's attention never flags; it is exactly what
was wanted by churchmen, and should be on the book-shelf of every
churchman in at least this Colony.... We simply advise every one of our
readers to buy it and read it, and let their boys and girls read it
too."
    _Auckland Church Gazette._

"One reads it as eagerly as though it were a novel."
    _N. Z. Guardian_ (Dunedin).

"Just the book to present to any young clergyman who wishes to have the
life of an ideal pastor before him."
    _Nelson Diocesan Gazette._

"A valuable addition to our growing library of historical literature."
    _Lyttelton Times._

"In many respects the book is a model biography."
    _Evening Post_ (Wellington).

"A very valuable contribution to the early history of New Zealand....
Throws considerable light on the pioneering days in Canterbury."
    _The Outlook._

REVISED AND ENLARGED EDITION

"To some extent re-written.... The additions considerably exceed the
omissions.... Generally, in all respects in which the book is fuller it
may be said to be more full of interest."
    _Guardian_ (England).


Whitcombe & Tombs Ltd. - Publishers


       *       *       *       *       *



PREFACE.


If asked why I took in hand a task of such difficulty and delicacy as
that of writing a History of the Church in our Dominion, I can really
find no more truthful answer than that of the schoolboy, "Please, Sir, I
couldn't help it." From boyhood's days in the old country, when a copy
of the Life of Marsden fell into my hands, I felt drawn to the subject;
the reading of Selwyn's biography strengthened the attraction; the
urging of friends in later years combined with my own inclinations; and
thus the work was well on its way when the General Synod of 1913
committed it to my hands as a definite duty.

For the last quarter of a century the Church of this Dominion has indeed
possessed a history by my honoured teacher, Dean Jacobs. That scholarly
volume could hardly be bettered on the constitutional side. In this
department the Dean wrote as one who had taken no mean part in the
events which he describes. His ecclesiastical learning and his judicial
temper rendered him admirably qualified for the task. In working over
the same ground I have perhaps been able to point out a few facts which
he had missed or ignored, but on the whole I have left this part of the
field to him. This is not a constitutional history: it seeks rather to
depict the general life of the Church, and the ideals which guided its
leading figures.

The Dean's description of the missionary period is also an admirable
piece of work, but he had not the advantage of the stores of material
which are now available. Through the indefatigable enthusiasm of the
late Dr. Hocken the journals of the early missionaries have been brought
to this country, and are made available to the student. His
comprehensive collection enables us to come into close touch with days
which are already far distant from our own. Of course the historian must
be guided by the principle, _summa sequi fastigia rerum_; but he cannot
estimate aright the work of the heroic leaders and rulers of the Church
unless he can follow the thoughts and careers of the less conspicuous
agents--the humble missionary or catechist, the native convert or
thinker.

In acknowledging my obligations to the late Dr. Hocken, I would wish to
express my gratitude to the authorities of the Dunedin Museum, where his
library is kept; and also to my friend Archdeacon Woodthorpe, who kindly
placed at my service the unpublished volume in which Dr. Hocken's
researches into the life of Marsden are contained. For permission to
consult the Godley correspondence in the Christchurch Museum I have to
thank the Board of Governors of Canterbury College; and for the loan of
a rare and valuable pamphlet on the death of the Rev. C. S. Volkner I am
greatly indebted to Mr. Alexander Turnbull, of Wellington. Archdeacon
Fancourt, of the same city, has afforded me generous help in recovering
some of the early history of the diocese he has so long served; while,
in Auckland, the Rev. J. King Davis--a descendant of the two
missionaries whose names he bears--has enabled me to identify the
positions of some long forgotten _pas_, and has furnished valuable
information on other points. Other correspondents, from the Bay of
Islands to Otago, have assisted generously with their local knowledge.
Outside of New Zealand I have to acknowledge help from Mrs. Hobhouse, of
Wells, and the Ven. Archdeacon Hobhouse, of Birmingham, the widow and
son of the first Bishop of Nelson.

Many clergy have kindly acceded to my application for photographs of
their churches. A fair number of these I have been able to use, and to
all the senders I desire to express my thanks. For the view of the
ruined church at Tamaki I am indebted to Miss Brookfield, of Auckland,
and for the excellent representation of the scene at the signing of the
Treaty of Waitangi to Mr. A. F. McDonnell, of Dunedin. In the
preparation of the MS. for the press I have been greatly assisted by the
Rev. H. East, Vicar of Leithfield.

But the greatest help of all remains to be told. To the aged and
venerable Bishop Leonard Williams this book owes more than I can
estimate. Not only has he furnished me with abundant information from
the stores of his own unique and first-hand knowledge, but, on many
points, he has engaged in fresh and laborious research. Every chapter
has been sent to him as soon as written, and has benefited immensely by
his careful and judicial criticism. Without this thorough testing my
book would be far more imperfect than it is.

It is due, however, to the bishop, as well as to my readers, to state
emphatically that he is in no way responsible for the views expressed in
this book. There are, in fact, a few points on which we do not quite
agree. The intricacies of high policy or of mingled motive will never
appeal in exactly the same way to different minds. My aim throughout has
been to arrive at the simple truth, and I have often been driven to
abandon long-cherished ideas by its imperative demand.

In the spelling of Maori names Bishop Williams' authority has always
been followed except when a place is looked at from the pakeha or
colonial point of view. Then it is spelt in the colonial manner. Readers
may be glad to be warned against confusing Turanga (Poverty Bay) with
Tauranga in the Bay of Plenty. Similarly, it may be well to call
attention to the wide difference between Tamihana Te Waharoa and
Tamihana Te Rauparaha. Both were notable men, but their characters were
not alike, and they took opposite sides in the great war.

The scope of this book has not permitted me to trace the history of the
Melanesian Mission, nor to deal with the island dependencies of our
Dominion. Even within the limits of New Zealand itself the treatment of
the later period may perhaps seem inadequate. But the events of the
years 1850-1890 have been already covered to some extent in my book,
"Bishop Harper and the Canterbury Settlement," while for the latest
stage of all I have the pleasure of appending to this preface a valuable
letter from the present Primate, whose high office and long experience
enable him to speak with unique authority upon the life of the Church of
to-day.

                                H. T. P.
    Glenmark Vicarage, Canterbury, N.Z.,
      March, 1914.


LETTER FROM THE MOST REVEREND THE PRIMATE.


Dear Canon Purchas--

In consideration of my long career as a church-worker in New Zealand,
you have honoured me with a request to add to your forthcoming volume of
the History of the Church here a short account of my impressions as to
her life and progress since 1871, and also my ideas as to her prospects
and the chief tasks which lie before her.

I think the most convenient form in which I could attempt to supply the
need would be by addressing a letter to you embracing these topics,
which letter, should you esteem it worthy, could be printed with your
Preface.

In turning, then, to your first question, I have to premise that the
life and progress of any institution are very largely affected by
attendant circumstances and surroundings for which perhaps the leaders
of the institution itself are not responsible. Thus, with reference to
our Provincial Church at the period you mention, she was weakened by the
loss of not a few of those upon whom she had leaned for counsel and
stimulating influence. Bishops Hobhouse and Abraham, Sir William Martin
and Mr. Swainson, besides other prominent churchmen, such as Sir George
Arney, and others less known, speedily followed their great leader,
Bishop Selwyn, to England, or were removed by other causes. Without any
surrender to the weakness of a mere _laudator temporis acti_, I look
back to the time of my arrival in New Zealand with a feeling that there
were giants in the earth in those days. Many whom we have more recently
lost were also with us then--men like Messrs. Acland and Hanmer and
Maude and Sewell, Col. Haultain, Mr. Hunter-Brown, and, of course,
Bishop Hadfield and Dean Jacobs. Many of these were men of marked
ability, men who made the synod halls ring with their forcible
utterances, men full of knowledge of the Church and love for her, full
of self-sacrificing spirit and determination to make her a praise in
the faithful guardian of our Church's influence, Primate Harper. The
loss of such fathers of the Church has been felt in the interval under
review, and could not but affect the life and progress of the Church. It
is not for me to say anything of those by whom their places have been
filled.

Another adverse circumstance which must be called to mind in such a
review is the long period of commercial depression which followed a
short period of fictitious prosperity and inflated values. Misled by the
apparently fair prospect of making money rapidly--of which prospect a
shoal of interested persons sprang up to make the most--undertakings
were entered upon on borrowed capital and properties were bought at
prices which could not be realised upon them perhaps twenty years
afterwards. The consequence of all this was a widespread desolation. My
diocesan visitations were in those days largely made on horseback, and
in a journey of perhaps many hundred miles I had to look upon stations
and homesteads at which I had formerly been hospitably received, whether
their owners belonged to our communion or not, either closed altogether
or left in charge of a shepherd.

Many of the proprietors of these sheep stations had been liberal
supporters of the Church, and their ruin spelt disaster to the
authorities of the nearest clerical charge, if not also the weakness of
diocesan institutions. During those long, long years, diocesan
management was a weariness indeed, and not the less so because it was so
hard to keep up the courage even of our church-workers themselves. I am
thankful to say that no organised charge within my own diocese was
closed in that period, but it was manifestly impossible to subdivide
districts and so to introduce additional clergy. Little else could be
thought of than holding on.

By these circumstances, then, the life of the Church was affected and
her progress hindered. New conditions were developed, and the rulers of
the Church had to accept and provide for these new conditions. I am far
from saying that the large displacement of the pastoral industry by the
agricultural was a misfortune either to the country or the Church: as
regards the latter, the large increase of the population upon the land
has given the Church more scope for the exercise of her ministerial
activities; but for vestries and church committees the work is harder,
demanding, as it does, so much closer attention to details. In the old
days one man might ride round the eight or ten stations within a
district, and by collecting £10 to £20 from each would thus easily raise
a large part of the stipend of the clergyman, and at the same time enjoy
a pleasant visit to his friends. The collecting from a large number of
scattered persons is a different matter, and means many workers and much
patience. It is not unnatural, therefore, that this outlying work is
avoided, and that the church officials rely too much upon the residents
in towns and villages. This is a danger of the present, and needs close
attention. A vestry easily becomes content so soon as in one way or
another it has got together enough money wherewith to discharge its
obligations; but there can be no free and elastic expansion unless the
interest of all her members is enlisted by the Church, and each is
willing to do his part in the establishment of the kingdom of Christ.

I think the progress of the Church of late years has been satisfactory.
We have a body of clergy who, in devotion to their work and ability for
the performance of it, need not fear comparison with those of other
countries, not excluding the average of the English clergy themselves;
and I think it high time that that insulting enactment known as the
"Colonial Clergy Act" was rescinded. It is an unworthy bar to full
inter-communion between areas of the Church which profess to be at one.
As to our lay people I can only say that I often stand amazed at the
willing and patient sacrifice they make of time and effort in the
management of church affairs in synods, on vestries, and committees of
every kind for the promotion of her work.

As to the future, the great task of the Church is, to my mind, the
instruction both of the young clergy and the young laity as to the
Divine Commission and real nature of the Church. Since union through the
truth is the only method authorised by Holy Scripture, we must teach and
teach and teach. That is the task of our divinity schools and of the
clergy in preparing their candidates for confirmation: line upon line
and precept upon precept, definite and clear instruction should be given
so that the future heads of families may know and value their
privileges, and the whole population will be impressed by the strength
of our convictions.

I am afraid I have allowed my pen to run beyond the limits you had in
view, but you must do what you think well with this letter, and believe
me to remain,

      Faithfully yours,
         S. T. DUNEDIN, Primate.

    Bishopsgrove, January, 1914.



    The Keystone Printing Co.,
    552-4 Lonsdale Street, Melb.



CONTENTS.


INTRODUCTION.

  Slow progress of Christianity towards Antipodes--Moslem barrier--
  Effect of the Renaissance--Europeans south of the barrier--Dutch in
  East Indies--Tasman's discovery of New Zealand--"Three Kings Island"--
  Cook's visit--Convict settlement at Port Jackson--Conclusions.


FIRST PERIOD.

CHAPTER I.

THE PREPARATION (1805-1813).

  The Bay of Islands--Te Pahi--His visit to New South Wales--Meeting
  with Marsden--Te Pahi's return and death--Ruatara--His arrival in
  England--Marsden at Home--The Church Missionary Society--Its plans for
  New Zealand Mission--Hall and King--Marsden meets Ruatara on _Active_
  --_Boyd_ massacre--Delay--Ruatara's return to New Zealand--The years
  of waiting.

CHAPTER II.

THE ENTERPRISE (1813-1815).

  Conditions more favourable--Preliminary voyage of _Active_--"Noah's
  Ark"--Arrival of mission in New Zealand--Interview with Whangaroans--
  "Rangihoo"--Landing of Marsden, &c.--Preparation for service--
  Christmas Day, 1814--Marsden's narrative--Planting of settlement--
  Gathering timber--Ruatara's illness and death--His work.

CHAPTER III.

THE RECEPTION (1815-1822).

  Position of settlers--Hall at Waitangi--Communistic experiment--
  Difficulty with Kendall--The mission in trouble--Visit of Rev.
  S. Leigh--Renewed zeal--Second visit of Marsden--Foundation of
  Kerikeri station--Marsden's third visit--Hongi and Kendall leave for
  England--Reception by King George IV--Marsden's journeys in New
  Zealand--Hinaki of Mokoia--Return of Hongi and Kendall--Change in
  Hongi--Siege of Mokoia--Devastation of Thames district--Miserable
  plight of missionaries--Closing of seminary at Parramatta.

CHAPTER IV.

THE NEW BEGINNING (1823-1830).

  Need of the mission--Arrival of Rev. H. Williams--His character--
  Settlement at Paihia--New workers--Difficulties in farming--Richard
  Davis--Building of the _Herald_--Schools--Flight of Wesleyans
  from Whangaroa--Death of Hongi--Peace-making--The "Girls' War"--
  Conversions--Taiwhanga--Baptisms--Effectiveness of schools--
  Evidences of progress.

CHAPTER V.

THE FORWARD MOVE (1831-1837).

  Exploration--Expedition to Kaitaia--Station formed--Cape Reinga--
  Expedition to Thames--Evening service--Surprising reception--Visit to
  Te Waharoa--Station at Puriri--Visit to Waikato--Station at Mangapouri
  --Tauranga--Rotorua--The Rotorua-Thames war--Looting of Ohinemutu
  station--Flight from Matamata--Mrs. Chapman's bonnet--Withdrawal of
  missionaries--Ngakuku and Tarore--Marsden's last visit--Progress in
  the north--Departure of Marsden--Estimate of his work and character.

CHAPTER VI.

YEARS OF THE RIGHT HAND (1838-1840).

  Re-occupation of Rotorua and Tauranga--Visit to Opotiki--Station there
  --Maunsell at Waikato Heads--Visit of Bishop Broughton--Influenza--
  Octavius Hadfield--The east coast--Taumatakura--W. Williams moves to
  Poverty Bay--Ripahau at Cook Strait--Rauparaha--Tamihana learns from
  Ripahau--Tamihana and Te Whiwhi come to Bay of Islands--Hadfield
  offers to return with them--H. Williams and Hadfield visit Port
  Nicholson--Kapiti--Work of Ripahau--Peace-making--Williams at
  Whanganui--Ascends the river--Village bells--March to Taupo--Tauranga
  --Wairarapa--The instructions of Karepa.

CHAPTER VII.

RETROSPECT (1814-1841).

  Arrival of Hobson--Treaty of Waitangi--Opposition of New Zealand
  Company--The work of the missionaries--Absence of authority--Kendall
  the Gnostic--The new workers--Bible translation--Simplicity in worship
  --And in life--Buying of land--Motives tested by selection of Auckland
  --Darwin's verdict--Missionaries and Methodists--Friendly relations--
  Disagreement on West Coast--Arrival of Roman mission--Hardships--
  Koinaki's taua--Causes of rapid spread of Christianity among Maoris--
  Gifts of civilisation--Religiousness of Maori nature--Letters of
  converts--The old heart--Marvellous memory--Hopes for the future.


SECOND PERIOD.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE BEGINNINGS OF THE NEW ORDER (1839-1842).

  Arrival of immigrants--Principles of the New Zealand Company--
  Opposition of the C.M.S.--Henry Williams and the Wellington settlers--
  Arrival of Bishop Selwyn--His ideals--His choice of Waimate--Condition
  of the country--Bishop's first tour--Nelson--Wellington--Whanganui--
  New Plymouth--Journey across the island--Waiapu--Bay of Plenty--
  Waikato--Return to Waimate.

CHAPTER IX.

ADJUSTMENT (1843-1844).

  Bishop Selwyn's ecclesiastical position--Religious divisions--
  Formation of St. John's College--Death of Whytehead--Communism in
  practice--A lesson to the world--Ordinations--Bishop's second tour--
  White Terraces--Whanganui River--Wairau tragedy--Hadfield and Wiremu
  Kingi save Wellington--Tamihana Te Rauparaha--His mission to the south
  --Bishop's visit to Canterbury--Otago--Stewart Island--Akaroa--Return
  to Waimate--Difference with C.M.S.--Bonds of fellowship--Ordinations--
  Synod--Bishop leaves Waimate.

CHAPTER X.

CONFLICT AND TROUBLE (1845-1850).

  Settlement in Auckland--College founded at Tamaki--Continued
  disagreement with C.M.S.--Heke's rebellion--His tactics--Burning of
  Kororareka--Charge against Henry Williams--Ohaeawai--Governor Grey--
  The Bats' Nest--"Blood and Treasure Despatch"--"Substantiation or
  Retractation"--Bishop joins Governor--His motives--Dismissal of Henry
  Williams by C.M.S.--Removal to Pakaraka--Subsequent history of Bay of
  Islands.

CHAPTER XI.

SACRIFICE AND HEALING (1850-1856).

  Selwyn visits Chatham Islands--Melanesia--Progress at Otaki and
  Wanganui--Troubles--Epidemic at St. John's--Failure of communistic
  system--Lutherans at Chatham Island--Porirua--Effect of H. Williams'
  dismissal--Journey of W. Williams to England--Improvement of relations
  between bishop and missionaries--Arrival of Rev. C. J. Abraham--Of
  Canterbury colonists--Ideals of Canterbury Association--Godley
  captured by Selwyn--Disagreement between them and the Association--
  Bishop wins affections of colonists--Break-up of Maori side of St.
  John's College--Visit of Bishop to England--Concordat between him and
  the C.M.S.--Return to New Zealand--Election of Rev. H. J. C. Harper to
  Christchurch--Arrival and installation of Bishop Harper.

CHAPTER XII.

ORGANISATION AND PROGRESS (1850-1859).

  Difficulty of creating ecclesiastical government in the colonies--
  Governor Grey drafts constitution--Its favourable reception--Discussed
  by Australian bishops--The Royal Supremacy--Godley's advocacy of
  freedom--Meetings to discuss constitution--C.M.S. opposition disarmed
  --"Voluntary compact"--Taurarua Conference--Struggle over
  ecclesiastical franchise--Promulgation of Constitution--Legal
  recognition--The new bishoprics--Wellington, Nelson, Waiapu--
  Completion of organisation of Church.

CHAPTER XIII.

TROUBLE AND ANGUISH (1859-62).

  Sudden darkness--Working of constitution--Paucity of Maori clergy--
  Inadequacy of mission Staff--Tamihana Te Waharoa--His ideals--The king
  movement--Suspicion of its loyalty--Governor Gore-Browne precipitates
  war in Taranaki--Sympathy of "king" natives--Growth of king movement--
  Good order of its rule--Defeat of Taranaki natives--Truce--Attempt at
  justice to Maoris--General Synod at Nelson--Discontent of Canterbury
  churchmen.

CHAPTER XIV.

RUIN AND DESOLATION (1862-1868).

  Position in 1862--Meeting at Peria--Position of Waikato Maoris--Grey
  brings on another war--Rangiaohia--Defeat of "king" forces--Henare
  Taratoa--His rules--Heroic action--Death--Devastation by British
  forces--Hauhauism--Wiremu Hipango--Hauhaus at Opotiki--Murder of Rev.
  C. S. Volkner--A night of horror--The trial--Bishop Patteson's
  memorial sermon--Selwyn starts to the rescue of Rev. T. Grace--
  Critical situation of Bishop Williams--Rescue of Grace--Removal of
  Bishop Williams--The third General Synod--Death of Tamihana--And of
  Henry Williams--Journey of Bishop Selwyn to England--Offer of
  Lichfield bishopric--Refusal--Acceptance--Tribute to his character
  and work.


THIRD PERIOD.

CHAPTER XV.

AFTER THE WAR. THE MAORIS.

  Changes produced by war and immigration--Separateness of Maori and
  pakeha--Maoris and Sir George Grey--Siege of Waerenga-a-hika--
  S. Williams at Te Aute--Return of Bishop Williams--Reconstitution of
  diocese of Waiapu--Te Kooti at Chatham Island--His prayers--Poverty
  Bay massacre--Ringa-tu--Depressed state of Maori Christianity--Present
  condition of Maoris.

CHAPTER XVI.

AFTER THE WAR. THE COLONISTS (1868-1878).

  Troubles in the colonial Church--Dunedin--Nomination of the Rev. H. L.
  Jenner--Opposition to his appointment--His rejection by General Synod
  --And by the Synod of Dunedin--Illness of Bishop Patteson--His last
  voyage--His death--Weakness in the dioceses--Education Act of 1877--
  Episcopal changes.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE CHURCH OF TO-DAY (1878-1914).

  The Blue Gum period--The Pine period--The Macrocarpa period--Recovery
  --New churches--Bishop Harper's resignation--Disputed election--Bishop
  Hadfield, primate--Labour movement--Retirement of bishops--Fresh
  episcopal appointments--The General Mission of 1910.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE CHURCH AT WORK.

  Doctrine and discipline--Worship--Hymns--Clergy--Theological colleges
  --Parish priests of the past--Church buildings--ADMINISTRATION--Legal
  position of priests and people--The General Synod--Patronage--Finance
  --EDUCATION--Grammar schools--Primary education--Bible-in-schools
  movement--Sunday-schools--CHARITABLE RELIEF--MISSIONARY EFFORTS--Maori
  Mission--Melanesian Mission--the Church Missionary Association--
  Conclusion.



MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

1. Portrait of Samuel Marsden                            Frontispiece

2. Map of North Island, showing Missionary Routes      Facing page 16

3. View of Paihia                                        "      "  32

4. Henry Williams at the Treaty of Waitangi              "      "  48

5. Portrait of Bishop Selwyn                             "      "  64

6. Ruins of St. Thomas', Tamaki                          "      "  80

7. Old Church at Russell                                 "      "  88

8. Nelson Cathedral                                      "      "  96

9. A Village Church, Stoke, near Nelson                  "      " 112

10. St. Matthew's Church, Auckland                       "      " 128

11. St. Matthew's Church, Dunedin                        "      " 144

12. Canterbury Churches                                  "      " 160

13. Map of the Bay of Islands                            "      " 168

14. St. John's Cathedral, Napier                         "      " 176

15. All Saints' Church, Palmerston North                 "      " 192

16. St. John's, Invercargill                             "      " 200

17. St. Luke's, Oamaru                                   "      " 208

18. Wanganui School Chapel                               "      " 224

19. Baptistery of St. Matthew's, Auckland                "      " 232

20. New Zealand Bishops                                  "      " 240



INTRODUCTION.

  Beginning from Jerusalem.
    --_Acts._


A commercial message of trifling import may now be flashed in a few
minutes from Jerusalem to the Antipodes: the message of Christ's love
took nearly eighteen centuries to make the journey. For a time, indeed,
the advance was direct and swift, for before the third century after
Christ a Church had established itself in South India. But there the
missionary impulse failed. Had the first rate of progress been
maintained, the message would have reached our shores a whole millennium
before it actually arrived.

But what would have been then its form and content? Had it made its way
from island to island, passing through the minds of Malay, Papuan, or
Melanesian on its passage, how much of its original purity would have
been preserved? And who would have been here to receive it? Possibly,
only the moa and the apteryx. Who knows?

These considerations enable us to look with less regret upon the check
which the Christian message received after its first rapid advance. The
rise of Mohammedanism in the sixth century drove the faith of Christ
from Asia and from Africa, but it kept it "white." It threw a barrier
across the old road which led from Jerusalem to the Antipodes, but the
barrier enabled preparation to be made on either side for a grander and
more fruitful intercourse. On the south of the Islamic empire the
migrations of the peoples brought to our islands the Maori race, who
made them their permanent home. On the north, the Christian faith took
firm hold of the maritime nations of Europe, from whom the missionaries
of the future were to spring.

The capture of Constantinople by the Turks in 1452 may be taken as the
turning point. It closed more firmly than ever the land-route to the
south, but the libraries of this great city, in which was preserved
nearly all that remained of ancient learning, were scattered by the
captors, and their contents carried far and wide. New Testament
manuscripts awakened fresh study in the western world, and led to a
cleansing and quickening of religion; narratives of old Greek explorers
made men impatient of the barrier which blocked them from the lands
which the ancients had known, and thus drove them to seek new routes by
sea.

Marvellous was the energy which now awoke. By 1492 Columbus had crossed
the Atlantic, and Vasco da Gama, having rounded the African continent,
had reached India by an ocean road which had nothing to fear from the
Mussulman power.

Two routes, in fact, had now been opened, for not only did the
Portuguese follow up da Gama's discoveries in the Indian Ocean, but the
Spaniards from the American side soon entered the Pacific. But neither
of these nations quite reached our distant islands. Their ships were
swept from the sea in the seventeenth century by the Dutch, whose
eastern capital was Batavia. From this port there started in 1642 a
small expedition of two ships under the command of Abel Tasman. Heading
his journal with the words, "May the Almighty God give His blessing to
this voyage," the courageous Hollander went forth, and, sailing round
the Australian continent, struck boldly across the sea which now bears
his name. On December 16th the mountainous coast of our South Island
rose before him, and what we may now call New Zealand was seen by
European eyes. The ferocity of the inhabitants prevented the explorer
from landing on its shores, but his expedition spent some weeks along
the coast. His austere Calvinism prevented Tasman from observing in any
special manner the festival of Christmas, but as a Rhinelander he could
not forget the "Three Kings of Cologne," whom legend had associated with
the Magi of the Gospels. On Twelfth Night his ships were abreast of the
small island which lies at the extreme north of the country, and "this
island," wrote Tasman, "we named Drie Koningen Eyland (i.e., Three Kings
Island), on account of this being the day of Epiphany."

Here then, at last, was a spot of New Zealand soil to which a name was
attached which told of something Christian. The name stood alone as yet,
but it contained a promise of the time when the Gentile tribes should
come to Christ's light, and their kings to the brightness of His rising.

For nearly a century and a half the startled Maoris treasured the memory
of the white-winged ships of the Hollander, before they saw any others
like them. At length, in 1769, there appeared the expedition of Captain
Cook. England had now wrested from the Dutch the sovereignty of the
seas, and Cook was looking for the "New Zealand" which appeared on the
Dutch maps, but which no living European had ever seen. More tactful and
more fortunate than his forerunner, Cook was able to open a
communication with the islanders and to conciliate their good-will.

Not yet, however, was England prepared to follow up the lead thus given.
Not until her defeat by the American colonists, which closed the "New
World" against her convicts, did Britain's statesmen bethink them of the
still newer world which had been made known by the explorer. In 1787 an
expedition went forth from England--not indeed to New Zealand, but--to
South-east Australia, where a penal colony was established at Port
Jackson. A strange and repulsive spectacle the enterprise presented, yet
these convict ships were the instruments for carrying on the message
which had been sent out from Jerusalem by apostolic bearers. "Did God
send an army of pious Christians to prepare His way in the wilderness?"
asked Samuel Marsden, the second chaplain of this colony. "Did He
establish a colony in New South Wales for the advancement of His glory
and the salvation of the heathen nations in those distant parts of the
globe by men of character and principle? On the contrary, He takes men
from the dregs of society, the sweepings of gaols, hulks, and prisons.
Men who had forfeited their lives to the laws of their country, He gives
them their lives for a prey, and sends them forth to make a way for His
chosen, for them that should bring glad tidings of good things. How
unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding out!"

Advance and retreat; check and recovery; failure of methods which seemed
direct and divine; compensating success through agencies that looked
hostile; the winds of the Spirit blowing where they list--none able to
tell beforehand whence they are coming or whither they will go: such are
the outstanding features of the long journey of the Christian faith
across the globe; such will be found to mark its history when
established in this land.



First Period.



CHAPTER I.

THE PREPARATION.

(1805-1813).

  Every noble work is at first "impossible." In very truth: for every
  noble work the possibilities will lie diffused through immensity,
  inarticulate, undiscoverable except to faith.
    --_Carlyle._


For the seed-plot of Christianity and of civilisation in New Zealand we
must look away from the present centres of population to the beautiful
harbours which cluster round the extreme north of the country. Chief
among these stands the Bay of Islands. This noble sheet of water, with
its hundred islands, its far-reaching inlets, its wooded coves and
sheltered beaches, was for more than a quarter of a century the focus of
whatever intellectual or spiritual light New Zealand enjoyed. Here the
Gospel of Christ was first proclaimed, and the first Mission stations
were established. Here were founded the first schools, the first
printing press, the first theological college, the first library. Here
the first bishop fixed his headquarters, and here he convened the first
synod. Here was signed the Treaty of Waitangi, by which the islands
passed under British rule, and here was the temporary capital of the
first governor. Here, too, was the theatre of the first war between
Maoris and white men; here stood the flagstaff which Heke cut down; from
these hills on the west the missionaries beheld the burning of
Kororareka, whose smoke went up "like the smoke of a furnace."

At the opening of the nineteenth century this important locality was
occupied by the warlike and enterprising tribe of the Ngapuhi. The soil
was generally infertile, but the waters teemed with fish, while the
high clay cliffs and the narrow promontories lent themselves readily to
the Maori system of fortification. The safe anchorage which the Bay
afforded early drew to it the whaling ships of Europe, especially as the
harbour was accessible from the ocean in all weathers. The Ngapuhi
eagerly welcomed these new comers, and prepared to take full advantage
of whatever benefits the outside world might offer.

Among the various _hapus_ of this tribe stands out pre-eminent that
which owed allegiance to the chief Te Pahi. This warrior had fortified
an island close to Te Puna on the north side of the bay. In readiness to
receive new ideas, and in the power to assimilate them, he and his
kinsmen, Ruatara and Hongi, were striking examples of the height to
which the Maori race could attain. Hardly had the century dawned which
was to bring New Zealand within the circle of the Christian world, when
word came to Te Pahi of the wonders to be seen at Norfolk Island, and of
the friendly nature of its governor, Captain King. To test for himself
the truth of these tidings, the chief, with his four sons, set forth
(about 1803) across the sea to the great convict station. The friendly
governor had left the island, but Te Pahi followed him on to New South
Wales, little thinking of the mighty consequences which would result
from his journey. Everyone at Port Jackson was struck with the handsome
presence and dignified manners of the New Zealander. He was received by
the governor into his house at Parramatta; he went regularly to church,
where he behaved "with great decorum;" and loved nothing so much as to
talk to the chaplain about the white man's God. His enquiries met with
ready sympathy, for the chaplain was no other than the Reverend Samuel
Marsden.

This remarkable man had hitherto found little to encourage him in his
labours, but his light shone all the more brightly from its contrast
with the surrounding darkness. Selected while still a student at
Cambridge, by no less a person than the philanthropist Wilberforce, for
this difficult position, Marsden had brought to his work a heart full of
evangelical fervour, a strong Yorkshire brain, and "the clearest head in
Australia." During the eleven years which had passed since his arrival,
he had been fighting a courageous fight against vice in high places and
in low, but nothing had daunted his spirit nor soured his temper. His
large heart had a place for all classes and for all races. When he met
Te Pahi his sympathies were at once excited. Like Gregory in the
marketplace at Rome, he had found a people who must be brought into the
fold of Christ. Years were indeed to pass before active steps could be
taken, but the new-born project never died within him. Amidst all the
difficulties of his lot the thought of the New Zealanders was ever in
his mind, and their evangelisation the constant subject of his prayers.
Many years afterwards, on one of his journeys through their country,
Marsden remarked to those about him, "Te Pahi just planted the acorn,
but died before the sturdy oak appeared above the surface of the
ground."

What this Maori pioneer had done may seem little enough, but that little
cost him his life. The presents which he carried home, and the house
built for him by Governor King upon his island, excited the envy of his
neighbours, who eventually found a way to compass his destruction by
means of the Europeans themselves. Te Pahi happened to be at Whangaroa
when the _Boyd_ was captured in 1809, and he did his best to save some
of the crew from the terrible slaughter that followed. But his presence
at the scene was enough to give a handle to his enemies. They accused
him to the whalers of participation in the outrage, and these stormed
the island _pa_ by night and slaughtered the unsuspecting inhabitants.
Te Pahi himself escaped with a wound, but he was soon afterwards killed
by the real authors of the _Boyd_ massacre for his known sympathy with
the Europeans.

It is a piteous story, and one that reflects only too faithfully the
temper of the times. Hardly less piteous is the history of his young
kinsman, Ruatara, the inheritor of his influence over the tribe. This
notable man, while still young, determined that he too would see the
world, and in the year 1805 engaged himself as a common sailor on board
a whaling vessel. The roving life suited his adventurous temperament,
and in spite of many hardships and much foul play he served in one ship
after another. His duties carried him more than once to Port Jackson,
where he, too, met Samuel Marsden and talked about the projected mission
to his race. After many vicissitudes he at length nearly attained the
object of his desire, for his ship reached the Thames and cast anchor
below London Bridge. Now he would see the king, and would learn the
secret of England's power.

But the London of those days was a cruel place. There were no kindly
chaplains, no sailors' institutes nor waterside missions for the care of
those who thronged its waterways. There was little care for the poor
anywhere, and little religion among employers or employed. The close of
the eighteenth century was indeed the low-water mark of English religion
and morality. But by 1809--the year of Ruatara's arrival--an improvement
had begun. What is known as the Evangelical movement was changing the
tone of life and thought. The excesses of the French Revolution had led
to a reaction among the upper classes and made them think more
seriously. This revival did not at once lead to much thought for the
poor at home; it reached out rather towards the heathen abroad. The
"Romantic" school was in the ascendant, and a black skin under a
palm-tree formed a picture which appealed to the awakened conscience.
Much of the fervour of the time had its being outside the historic
Church of England, but in the last year of the old century a few earnest
clergy and laity--without much encouragement from the bishops or others
in high places--had formed what was afterwards known as "The Church
Missionary Society." This Society had the New Zealanders under its
consideration at the very time when Ruatara was being starved and beaten
in the docks of London itself.

What had drawn its attention to a place so distant? It was the presence
of Marsden in England. He had come thither in 1807 on business of grave
and various import. The Government of the day had recognised the value
of his practical knowledge, and had sought his advice on many matters
concerning the welfare of Australia. But he did not forget New Zealand,
and it was to the young Church Missionary Society that he betook
himself. So great, in fact, and so various were the plans which Marsden
entertained for the welfare of the many races in which he was
interested, that the grandiloquent words of his biographer seem not too
strong: "As the obscure chaplain from Botany Bay paced the Strand, from
the Colonial Office at Whitehall to the chambers in the city where a few
pious men were laying plans for Christian missions in the southern
hemisphere, he was in fact charged with projects upon which not only the
civilisation, but the eternal welfare, of future nations were
suspended."

Marsden's proposals were the outcome of his own original mind. He
appealed for a mission to the Maoris, but he wished it to be an
industrial mission. He proposed that artisans should be sent out who
should prepare the way for ordained clergy. A carpenter, a smith, and a
twine-spinner should form the missionary staff. They must be men of
sound piety and lively interest in the spiritual welfare of the heathen;
but their religious lessons should be given whilst they were instructing
the Maoris in the building of a house, the forging of a bolt, or the
spinning of their native flax.

Such a scheme was only half relished by the Committee of the Society.
These excellent men had hardly yet realised that the dark-skinned
savage was a real human being. They had begun by picturing the whole
population of a heathen island as rushing gladly to meet the missionary,
receiving his message with unquestioning belief, and crying out in an
agony of terror, "What must we do to be saved?" Now that apparent
failure had met their efforts in different parts of the world, they were
inclined to go to the opposite extreme and to despair of the heathen
ever accepting Christianity at all. Marsden's unromantic proposals
jarred upon their old ideas, but in their perplexity they could not help
feeling that at least here was a man who had had experience of real, not
of imaginary, heathen; a man who did not despair, and who had a definite
and carefully prepared plan. Gradually they yielded to his influence,
and, especially as clerical missionaries were not to be found, they
agreed to seek for the artisans.

Even these were hard enough to find. There were as yet no colleges for
the training of young aspirants; outside the newly-formed societies
there was little interest in the welfare of heathen people; the best
that could be done was to seek for men who had the love of God and men
in their hearts, and should seem to possess the qualities of patience,
perseverance, and tact. Through the good offices of friendly clergy two
young men were found. From distant Carlisle came the carpenter, William
Hall; the Midlands supplied a shoemaker, John King. These were given
further technical training--Hall in shipbuilding, King in rope-making.
By the month of August, 1809, they were ready for their enterprise.
Their earthly prospects were not tempting. They were to receive £20 each
per annum until they should be able to grow corn enough for their own
support. To meet this and all other expenses the Committee advanced
Marsden the sum of £100. With this small sum and his two plain and
poorly paid mechanics, this undaunted man started out from his native
land to undertake the evangelisation of a country as large as England
itself.

But a mightier coadjutor was at hand. Many prayers were offered as the
_Ann_ was about to sail, and it must surely have been in answer to these
that, when the vessel with her freight of convicts had already reached
Gravesend, there appeared a boat in which were a half-naked Maori
together with a seafaring Englishman. These were Ruatara and his
employer who had robbed him of his wages and had now no further use for
him. "Will you take him back to Australia?" said the heartless master.
"Not unless you find him some clothes," said the captain of the _Ann_.
The clothes were procured, and the Maori was allowed to go below. There
he lay sick in body and mind. He had tried to play the part of the
Russian Peter, but he was bringing back nothing for the benefit of his
country. What was left but to die?

When the ship reached Portsmouth, Marsden came on board, and on August
25th she finally started on her six months' voyage. Not for some days
did the chaplain know of the Maori's presence, but, as the ship entered
warmer latitudes, Marsden observed on the forecastle among the sailors a
man whose dark skin and forlorn condition appealed strongly to his
sympathy. Ruatara was wrapped in an old great coat, racked with a
violent cough, and was bleeding from the lungs. Though young, he seemed
to have but a few days to live. Marsden at once went to him and found in
the miserable stranger the nephew of his old acquaintance Te Pahi.
Kindness and attention soon had their effect; the health of the invalid
rapidly improved; the remembrance of past injuries melted away before
the sunshine of Christian love; and, before the ship reached Australia,
Ruatara was once again a man, and now almost a Christian.

This meeting was momentous in its results. "Mr. Marsden and Ruatara," as
Carleton says, "were each necessary to the other; each furnished means
without which the labour of his associate must have been thrown away.
But for the determined support which Ruatara as a high chief was able
to afford, Marsden could never have gained a footing in the land; and
without the sustained labour of the civilised European, the work of the
Maori innovator, too much in advance of its time, would have withered
like Jonah's gourd, and have come to an end with the premature decease
of Ruatara."

For a few days after the arrival of the _Ann_ at Port Jackson, it seemed
as though Marsden's project were going to be helped by another
unexpected agency. The Sydney merchants had resolved to form a trading
settlement in New Zealand; the settlers were chosen, and the ship was
ready to sail. But at the last moment news came from the land of their
destination of an event already referred to--news which for many a long
day checked every thought of adventure thither, and had the effect of
throwing New Zealand back into its old position of isolation and
aloofness. The ship _Boyd_, which had sailed from Sydney not many months
previously, had been surprised by the Maoris in the harbour of
Whangaroa, and with four exceptions all its white crew, to the number of
about 70 persons, had been killed and cooked and eaten.

The report of this awful tragedy--the most horrible that has ever been
enacted on our shores, at least with white folk for the victims--threw
the people of New South Wales into a fever heat of indignation. This
condition was further intensified when the intelligence arrived that
among the murderers had been seen the "worthy and respectable" Te Pahi,
who had been an honoured guest at the Governor's table. No Maori dared
now to be seen in the streets of Sydney, and it required all Marsden's
influence to protect Ruatara, who was known to be Te Pahi's relative.
His protector kept him for six months quietly working with a few other
Maoris on his farm at Parramatta, and the expedition to New Zealand was
for the time abandoned.

This sudden interruption of his favourite project was a severe trial to
Marsden's hopeful temperament. But he never lost heart. "We have not
heard the natives' side of the case," he said. As for Te Pahi, he
refused, and rightly refused, to believe in his guilt. When the passion
for vengeance had somewhat calmed, he found opportunity to ship Ruatara
and some other Maoris on board a whaling craft which was on her way to
fish on the New Zealand shores, and he gave them seed wheat and
agricultural tools.

Even now Ruatara's adventures were not ended. In the following year he
was again at Port Jackson with another tale of woe. He had never reached
his home, though he had actually been within sight of it. Instead of
being allowed to land there, he had been carried away by the
unprincipled captain, robbed again of his wages, and then marooned on
Norfolk Island. Again he found a friend in Marsden. Once more he was
despatched to the Bay of Islands with wheat and hoes and spades. This
time he arrived safely, and Marsden had the satisfaction of feeling that
however long the time of waiting might still be, there was a quiet but
effective influence at work in New Zealand on behalf of himself and of
the message which he still hoped to proclaim.

At any time, in fact, during those years of suspense, Marsden was
willing to venture forth among the cannibals, but he was forbidden by
Governor Macquarie. That all-powerful functionary was determined that
such a valuable life should not be thrown away on what appeared to be a
quixotic scheme. But the chaplain was not to be altogether balked. He
received into his parsonage whatever Maoris of good standing he could
find; showed them the varied activities of his model farm; and explained
to them the principles of the laws which he was called to administer
from the magisterial bench. In this way several young chiefs acquired a
knowledge of the elements of civilisation, and were disposed to welcome
Christianity.

But it was not only upon his Maori visitors that Marsden's influence was
at work. The two artisans whom he kept near himself must have learned
during these years that absolute loyalty upon which so much was to
depend thereafter. They laboured diligently at their trades, and each
was soon earning as much as £400 a year; but the zeal and unselfishness
of the chaplain kept them true to their original purpose, and prevented
them from yielding to the fascinations of Mammon.

Thus the years passed--not uselessly nor unhopefully. One bit of
intelligence seemed like an augury of good for the future: Ruatara's
wheat had been sown and was growing well!

[Illustration: THE NORTH ISLAND OF NEW ZEALAND.]



CHAPTER II.

THE ENTERPRISE.

(1813-1815).

  Was it not great? Did not he throw on God
      (He loves the burthen)
  God's task to make the heavenly period
      Perfect the earthen?
    --_R. Browning._


The fourth year of waiting brought signs of approaching change. The
Society at home, encouraged by Marsden's hopeful letters, sent out
another catechist, Thomas Kendall. They were less sure of him than of
King and Hall, but he pleaded earnestly to be sent, and, being a
schoolmaster, he was a man of more education than the two others. During
the last days of the year 1813, Marsden organised an influential meeting
in Sydney, and succeeded in carrying fifteen resolutions in favour of a
forward movement. Armed with these he again approached the Governor, who
reluctantly consented to allow the missionaries to make a trial visit to
New Zealand if a captain could be found sufficiently courageous to take
them. The shipping problem was indeed a great difficulty, but Marsden at
last overcame it by buying a vessel with money which he raised on the
security of his farm. The _Active_ was a brig of 110 tons, and claims
the honour of being the first missionary craft of modern times.

Hall and Kendall were the men chosen for the preliminary visit. They
were instructed to open up communication with Ruatara, and, if possible,
to bring him back with them to Sydney. With good supply of articles for
trade and for presents they set sail on the 4th of March, and arrived
safely at the Bay of Islands. Here they were welcomed by the faithful
Ruatara, to whom they presented a small hand-mill as a gift from his
friend at Parramatta. This machine played its part in preparing the way
for the mission. Ruatara's wheat had long been harvested, but his
neighbours were still sceptical as to the possibility of converting it
into bread. While this doubt remained, Ruatara's words carried little
weight. In vain did the poor Maori try one expedient after another; in
vain did he send appeals to Marsden. His own efforts always failed; his
benefactor's gifts never reached him. But now the situation was changed.
The mill was at once charged with New Zealand grown wheat; eager eyes
watched the mealy stream issuing from beneath; a cake was quickly made
and cooked; and all incredulity was at an end. Several chiefs
volunteered to accompany Ruatara to Sydney, and the _Active_ reached
that port on August 22nd, after a thoroughly successful voyage.

The Governor could no longer withhold his consent to the enterprise, and
Marsden was granted leave of absence for four months from his duties at
Parramatta.

Before starting for New Zealand he spent three busy months in
preparation. The mission was to take the form of a "settlement," and the
missionaries were to be "settlers" as well as catechists. The _Active_
was loaded with all that was necessary for this object, and in the words
of Mr. Nicholas, who accompanied the expedition as a friend, it "bore a
perfect resemblance to Noah's Ark." The resemblance was indeed a close
one. The vessel carried horses and cattle, sheep and pigs, goats and
poultry; Maori chiefs and convict servants; the three missionaries with
their wives and children; while the place of the patriarch was filled by
Samuel Marsden himself, who, like Noah, had been "warned of God of
things not seen as yet," had laboured on amidst the incredulity of his
neighbours, and now bore with him the seeds of a new world. Stormy
weather delayed the progress of the brig and brought much misery to
those on board. Three weeks passed before the New Zealand coast was
sighted, but Saturday, December 17th, brought the travellers opposite to
Tasman's "Three Kings," and on the following Tuesday they were off the
harbour of Whangaroa, where the remains of the _Boyd_ still lay. The
brig did not enter this dreaded haven, but, seeing an armed force on the
coast to the south, Marsden resolved to land and to attempt to
conciliate these hostile people. Ruatara and Hongi acted as
intermediaries, and friendly relations were soon established between the
missionaries and the cannibals. Marsden and his companion even spent the
night with the savages, sleeping among them without fear under the
starlit sky.

Two days later the expedition reached its destination, and the _Active_
cast anchor off the Bay of Rangihoua. From her deck the mission families
could now gaze upon the scene of their future home. The bracken and
manuka with which the farther slopes were clad might remind them of the
fern and heather of old England, but their gaze would be chiefly
attracted to an isolated hill of no great height which rose steeply from
the sea on the left side of the little bay. To this hill had come the
remnant of Te Pahi's people after the slaughter on the island, and it
was now crowned with a strongly fortified _pa_. Ruatara's residence was
on the highest point; around it were crowded about fifty other
dwellings; outside the mighty palisade neat plantations of potatoes and
kumaras seemed to hang down the steep declivity; an outer rampart
encircled the whole. At sight of the vessel the inhabitants rushed down
to the beach with cries of welcome, and greeted Marsden, on his landing,
with affectionate regard. He seemed to be no stranger among them, for
his name and his fame were familiar to all. The horses and cows caused a
temporary panic among people who had never seen animals so large
before, but fear soon gave way to admiration and a general sense of
excited expectancy.

Ruatara's home-coming was not free from pain to himself. Misconduct had
occurred in his household during his absence, and the next morning was
occupied with a trial for adultery. The case was referred to Marsden,
who advised the application of the lash to the male offender. Thirty
strokes were given, and the honour of the chief was vindicated. Next
morning (Saturday) he treated his guests to a scene of mimic warfare.
Led by himself and Korokoro, four hundred warriors in all the pomp of
paint and feathers rehearsed the details of a naval engagement. The
brandished spears and blood-curdling yells brought forcibly to the
imagination of the white men the perils which might be in store for
them, but as the day wore on the arts of war were succeeded by
preparations for the preaching of the Gospel of peace. Ruatara caused
about half an acre of land by the Oihi beach to be fenced in; within
this area he improvised some rough seats with planks and an upturned
boat; in a convenient spot he erected a reading desk and pulpit which he
draped with black native cloth, and with white duck which he had brought
from Sydney; on the top of the hill he reared a flagstaff; and thus
prepared his church for the coming festival.

The account of that Christmas Day of 1814 must be given in Marsden's own
words, which have already attained a classical celebrity:

"On Sunday morning when I was upon deck, I saw the English flag flying,
which was a pleasing sight in New Zealand. I considered it as the signal
and the dawn of civilisation, liberty, and religion in a benighted land.
I never viewed the British colours with more gratification, and
flattered myself they would never be removed till the natives of that
island enjoyed all the happiness of British subjects.

"About ten o'clock we prepared to go ashore, to publish for the first
time the glad tidings of the Gospel. I was under no apprehensions for
the safety of the vessel, and therefore ordered all on board to go on
shore to attend divine service, except the master and one man. When we
landed we found Korokoro, Ruatara, and Hongi dressed in regimentals
which Governor Macquarie had given them, with their men drawn up ready
to be marched into the enclosure to attend divine service. They had
swords by their sides, and switches in their hands. We entered the
enclosure, and were placed on the seats on each side of the pulpit.
Korokoro marched his men and placed them on my right hand, in the rear
of the Europeans; and Ruatara placed his men on the left. The
inhabitants of the town, with the women and children and a number of
other chiefs, formed a circle round the whole. A very solemn silence
prevailed: the sight was truly impressive. I rose up and began the
service with singing the Old Hundredth Psalm, and felt my very soul melt
within me when I viewed my congregation and considered the state they
were in. After reading the service, during which the natives stood up
and sat down at the signals given by Korokoro's switch, which was
regulated by the movements of the Europeans, it being Christmas Day, I
preached from the second chapter of St. Luke's Gospel, and tenth verse,
'Behold, I bring you glad tidings of great joy,' etc. The natives told
Ruatara that they could not understand what I meant. He replied that
they were not to mind that now, for they would understand by and by, and
that he would explain my meaning as far as he could. When I had done
preaching, he informed them what I had been talking about. Ruatara was
very much pleased that he had been able to make all necessary
preparations for the performance of divine worship in so short a time,
and we felt much obliged to him for his attention. He was extremely
anxious to convince us that he would do everything in his power, and
that the good of his country was his principal consideration. In this
manner the Gospel has been introduced into New Zealand, and I fervently
pray that the glory of it may never depart from its inhabitants till
time shall be no more."

For the moment it seemed as though Marsden's congregation had not been
very deeply impressed. Three or four hundred natives (says Nicholas)
began a furious war-dance, apparently to express gratitude and
appreciation. With conflicting feelings the missionaries at length
withdrew to their ship, and there, in the evening, Marsden "administered
the Holy Sacrament in remembrance of our Saviour's birth and what He had
done and suffered for us."

What would be the reflections of this far-sighted man as he lay in his
berth that summer night? Fresh from the scene of the _Boyd_ tragedy, and
in the very presence of Te Pahi's desolated citadel, he had ventured to
take up the angels' song of peace on earth, goodwill to men. He might
perhaps have drawn some hope from the peace which the world at large was
then enjoying after years of desperate strife. Napoleon was a prisoner
in Elba, and the dogs of war were chained. But a few more months would
bring another outburst and the awful carnage of Waterloo. So would it be
in New Zealand also, and its Napoleon was a small quiet man who stood
listening thoughtfully on that Christmas Day to Marsden's message of
peace.

The planting of the settlement occupied the next fortnight. By the
second Sunday in the new year a large building was sufficiently advanced
to serve as a church. In a few days more this was divided into separate
apartments for the residence of the mission families.

Marsden was now at liberty to think of certain subordinate objects of
his visit--exploration and trade. In obedience to the Governor's
instructions, he took his brig on an exploring tour down the Hauraki
Gulf. On his return he had the vessel loaded with timber and flax for
conveyance to New South Wales. The expedition had, of course, been an
expensive matter, and it must be remembered that he had strained his own
private resources to provide means for its equipment. He had all along
looked to recoup himself for some of his outlay by a trade in logs and
spars. By the middle of February the vessel had received her cargo, the
missionaries were settling down in their new home, and his leave of
absence was nearing its expiration. But before he set sail two duties
claimed his attention. A child had been born to Mr. and Mrs. King, and
Marsden determined to make the first administration of Holy Baptism in
this heathen land as impressive as possible. The infant was brought out
into the open air. Many of the Maoris as well as the white folk stood
around while the little one was solemnly admitted into the congregation
of Christ's flock.

The other duty was less pleasant, and called for all the missionary's
skill and resource. Poor Ruatara had fallen ill in the hour of his
triumph--a victim, it would seem, to his admiration for the white man's
ways. At the service on Sunday, February 12th, he had been present in
European clothes, which had set off to advantage his manly form and
European-like features. The day was rainy, and probably he had gone home
in his wet clothes and thus contracted pneumonia. On the next day he was
suffering from a chill and fever which defied the kindly attentions of
Nicholas, who visited him daily until the _tohunga_ forbad his
admission. When Marsden returned from his trading enterprise he could
only force an entrance by threatening to bombard the town with the
ship's guns. The invalid seemed grateful for his visit and rallied for a
little time, but as soon as Marsden sailed for Australia he grew rapidly
worse. On the third day he was carried from his home and deposited on
the top of a bare hill to await his end. Ruatara has been often compared
with the Russian Peter, and like him he had purposed to build a new town
in which he could carry out the ideas he had gained abroad. It was to
the site of this projected metropolis that he was now borne, and it was
there that, after death, his body was laid on a stage erected for the
purpose. To complete the tragedy the same stage received the remains of
his favourite wife, who hung herself out of grief at her loss.

In spite of this noble Maori's enlightened efforts for the civilisation
of his countrymen, his mind seems to have been not wholly without
misgiving as to the possible consequences of his policy. He could not
altogether throw off the suggestions of the reactionary party, that the
coming of the white man would eventually lead to the slavery and
dispossession of the Maori. Could he look down from his lofty eminence
now that a century has passed, what would be his thoughts? He would see
his countrymen still residing on their own lands, their children
carefully taught, their houses fitted with mechanical appliances which
would have surprised even Marsden himself. But, on the other hand, the
crowded _pas_ and the vigorous life have passed away. Instead of the
long canoe with its stalwart tatooed rowers, he would see perhaps a
small motor-boat with one half-caste engineer. As for his "town of
Rangihoo," he would see no trace of its existence. Maori dwellings,
mission-station--all are gone. Nothing now remains to show that man has
ever occupied the spot, save the rose-covered graves of one or two of
the original "settlers," and the lofty stone cross which marks the place
where Christ was first preached on New Zealand soil.



CHAPTER III.

THE RECEPTION.

(1815-1822).

  He that soweth discord among brethren.
    --_Proverbs._


The position of the missionaries when left alone at Rangihoua was not an
easy one. Ruatara was dead, and there was no one to fill his place. His
successor at Rangihoua, though friendly and genial, seems to have had
but little influence. Korokoro cared for nothing but war. The real ruler
was Ruatara's uncle, Hongi, who lived some miles away; and Hongi's
character had yet to disclose itself. His behaviour was quiet and
gentlemanly; he assured the missionaries of his protection, and he kept
his word.

This protection, however, was subject to limitations. The settlers were
naturally anxious to grow corn and vegetables, but the cold clay of Te
Puna[1] was not a favourable soil. At the very beginning some of them
had pleaded for a more fertile spot, but their sagacious leader had set
his veto on the proposal. Not many months, however, after Marsden's
departure, Kendall and Hall crossed the Bay to a sunny spot at the mouth
of the Waitangi River. Here they bought 50 acres of fertile land, and
thither Hall transferred his family. He soon saw around him a prolific
growth of maize and vegetables, but just as he was congratulating
himself on the wisdom of the move, a scene occurred which quickly
altered his views. He was felled to the ground by a savage visitor who
brandished an axe over his head, and he struggled to his feet only to
behold his wife's countenance suffused with blood from a smashing blow
dealt her by another ruffian. His furniture and tools were carried off,
and the poor missionary was glad to return to his colleagues, and to
share the protection of the _tapu_ which Ruatara had placed upon their
settlement. Barren as Te Puna might be, it was a safe refuge, and so
long as the missionaries stayed there they suffered nothing worse from
the natives than a little pilfering and an occasional threat.

  [1] The missionaries generally used the terms Te Puna and Rangihoua
  indiscriminately.

Their real troubles arose within their own circle. The settlement
(including children) consisted of twenty-five people, and it was
organised by Marsden on what may be called a communistic basis. His
original plan had been for each settler to be allowed to trade with the
Maoris on his own account, and for this purpose he had given them a
stock of goods before leaving Sydney. This concession was intended to
compensate those who, like King and Hall, had given up large incomes on
leaving New South Wales. But a very short experience convinced Marsden
that such traffic was open to grave objections. With characteristic
promptitude he remodelled his scheme. Calling the settlers together, he
told them that he could allow no private trade whatever. All traffic
with the natives was to be carried on by the whole community, and the
profits were to go towards defraying the expenses of the mission.
Rations of food and other necessaries would be served out to the mission
families, and each settler would receive a small percentage on whatever
profit might accrue from the trading voyages of the brig.

These terms were not accepted without protest, but such was the weight
of Marsden's authority that they were at length adopted by all. The
scheme is interesting as foreshadowing the communism of Selwyn, and as
being the earliest example of socialism in white New Zealand. But all
such experiments need the constant presence of the inspiring mind, and
this is just what the Te Puna community lacked. Marsden did not return
for more than four years, and in the meantime the settlers were left
with no head whatever. Kendall was the cleverest of the group, and his
ambitious spirit chafed at the restrictions imposed by his distant
superior. He bore a commission of the Peace from the Governor of New
South Wales, but his magisterial powers were mostly exercised on runaway
sailors. In the mission his vote counted for no more than the vote of
King or of Hall.

For a time, indeed, the experiment promised well. Hall spoke in later
years of the "zeal, warmth, and sanguinity" with which they began their
work. Kendall was successful with the school, in which a son of the
noble Te Pahi acted as an assistant. One or two new settlers arrived
from Australia, and glowing reports reached the Committee in London.

But evil was at work. As early as 1816, Kendall was sending to Marsden
grave accusations against his colleagues. His letters were plausible and
carried weight. Quarrels arose between him and Hall, who was so wearied
with the "difficulties, discouragements, and insults" of his life that
he wished to retire from his post. The rules of the community were not
kept; the forbidden trade in firearms was not altogether avoided; the
early fervour cooled, and little mission work was done.

Marsden grieved over this sad declension, yet could not at once apply a
remedy. But in the early months of 1819 he had staying at his parsonage
a singularly devoted Methodist preacher whose health had broken down.
The chaplain suggested to his guest that he should try the effect of a
voyage to New Zealand, and should investigate the state of the Mission
there. Like a mediæval bishop, Marsden called in the assistance of a
preaching order to infuse new life into his failing "seculars." The
boldness of the plan was justified by the result. Mr. Leigh tactfully
mediated between the separated brethren; by prayer and exhortation he
rekindled their flagging zeal; and, Methodist-like, he drew up a "plan"
for their future operations. Soon after his departure King and Kendall
went on a missionary tour to Hokianga on the western coast; Hall boated
along the eastern coast, and preached as far as Whangaruru.

On the reception of Leigh's report, Marsden wrote a hopeful letter to
London. "The place," he said, "will now be changed, and I trust we shall
be able to lay down such rules and keep those who are employed in the
work to their proper duty, so as to prevent the existence of any great
differences among them." But he himself must initiate the changes, and
by August of that same year (1819) he was again at the Bay of Islands.
The meeting between himself and his catechists was marked by
satisfaction on both sides. Kendall and King could report hopefully of
their recent reception on the Hokianga River, which they were the first
white men to see; Hall could relate how he had found and forgiven the
people who had assaulted him at Waitangi, and how prosperous had been
his tour until he reached a _pa_ where the demand for iron was so great
that the inhabitants stole the rudder-hangings of his boat, and left the
poor missionary to find his way back as best he might in stormy weather
to the shelter of Rangihoua. Marsden, on his part, could introduce a
party of new helpers whom he had brought from Sydney--the Rev. John
Butler and his wife, Francis Hall, a schoolmaster, and James Kemp, a
smith.

New plans were at once formed for an extension of the work. An offer
from Hongi of a site opposite to his own _pa_ was accepted, and Marsden
bought for four dozen axes a large piece of ground on the Kerikeri
River, at the extreme north-west of the Bay. Here, in a sheltered vale
and amid the sound of waterfalls, the new mission station was
established. To it the fresh workers were assigned, Butler taking the
chief place. Marsden himself pushed on across the island to the mouth of
the Hokianga, and on his return was surprised to see much of the new
ground broken up, maize growing upon it, and vines in leaf.

Agriculture formed indeed an important feature in Marsden's plans for
the mission. Seeing Hongi's blind wife working hard in a potato field,
he was much affected by the miserable condition of many of the Maoris:
"Their temporal situation must be improved by agriculture and the simple
arts, in order to lay a permanent foundation for the introduction of
Christianity." No spiritual results were as yet visible, but the chiefs
attended Marsden's services and "behaved with great decorum." On the
evening of September 5 he administered the Holy Communion to the
settlers at Rangihoua. The service was held in a "shed," but "the
solemnity of the occasion did not fail to excite in our breasts
sensations and feelings corresponding with the peculiar situation in
which we were. We had retrospect to the period when this holy ordinance
was first instituted in Jerusalem in the presence of our Lord's
disciples, and adverted to the peculiar circumstances under which it was
now administered at the very ends of the earth."

In spite of the more promising appearances, however, Marsden seems to
have realised that the missionaries must never be left so long again
unvisited. In little more than three months he was again in New Zealand.
There had been no difficulty about leave of absence this time, for the
Admiralty needed kauri timber, and was glad to avail itself of his
influence with the Maoris, and his knowledge of their ways. Marsden made
the most of this unlooked for opportunity, and stayed nine months in the
country. Of all his visits this was the longest and the most full of
arduous effort, but its results were almost nullified by subsequent
events. For it happened that on his arrival at Te Puna he found another
enterprise in contemplation--one which would leave its mark upon
history, and make the year memorable with an evil memory in the annals
of New Zealand. This was the journey of Kendall and Hongi to England.
To understand the course of events and to appreciate its fell
significance, it is necessary to keep in mind both what the Englishman
was doing in New Zealand, and what the New Zealander was doing in
England, during those same months of the year 1820. They will meet again
next year in the parsonage of Parramatta, and then the results of their
separate courses will begin to show themselves.

Hongi, though less definitely favourable to the mission than had been
his nephew Ruatara, had hitherto always stood its friend. On Marsden's
last visit he had indeed disbanded a large army at his request, and had
seemed ready to relinquish his design of obtaining _utu_ for the blood
of several Ngapuhi chiefs who had been lately slain in battle. But the
obtaining of _utu_ was almost the main object of the heathen Maori. An
eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, blood for blood and death for
death--this was his creed. If the blood of the murderer could not be
had, then someone else's blood must be shed--someone, too, of equal rank
and dignity. Hongi could not bring himself to accept the new message of
peace, and his dissatisfaction was, it would seem, fanned by Kendall,
who had ambitions of his own to serve. The other settlers, fearing to
lose the protection of Hongi's restraining hand, did their utmost to
dissuade him from taking the journey, but in vain. "I shall die," said
the chief, "if I do not go."

Four days accordingly after Marsden's arrival the two set sail, having
with them Waikato, another chief of the same tribe. The story of their
visit to England is to a large extent familiar. They were received with
great interest at the Missionary House, but the authorities treated
Hongi as a heathen soul to be saved, and this was not what he wanted.
Together they went to Cambridge, and here Kendall found scope for his
abilities in furnishing to Professor Lee the materials for a scientific
orthography of the Maori language. He stayed on at Cambridge to prepare
for Holy Orders, which the Society had agreed that he should receive.
The chiefs meanwhile were entertained at the houses of nobles and
prelates in different parts of the country, and at length were presented
to King George IV. "How do you do, Mr. King George?" said the
gentlemanly Hongi. "How do you do, Mr. King Hongi?" replied that easy
monarch. This was the kind of reception that the Maori appreciated, and
with the craft of his race he immediately seized his advantage. "You
have ships and guns in plenty," said he to the King; "have you said that
the New Zealanders are not to have any?" "Certainly not," replied His
Majesty, and gave him a suit of armour from the Tower. Hongi's object
was now attained. In spite of the missionaries he would have his guns,
and he would be a king.

This determination was not shaken by the Christianity which came under
the notice of the chiefs. At Norwich Cathedral they were given a seat in
the episcopal pew close to the altar, on the occasion of Kendall's
ordination. Hongi was chiefly impressed by the bishop's wig, which he
thought must be emblematic of wisdom. His conclusion was that the Church
was a very venerable institution and a necessary part of the English
State, but it did not seem to follow very consistently the doctrines
which he had heard proclaimed by the missionaries. Its official
representatives seemed to be on good terms with the world: why should he
be better than they? Like the king and great people of England he would
uphold the Church and--go his own way.

Marsden meanwhile had been working hard in the opposite direction. On
landing in February, 1820, he found that some of the missionaries had
been using muskets and powder as articles of barter. It was very hard to
avoid doing so, for the Maoris were no longer satisfied with hoes and
axes. Guns were becoming necessary to self-defence in New Zealand, and
guns they would have. Marsden took a firm stand and informed the chiefs
that if there were any more trading for firearms the mission would be
withdrawn. The Maoris were far too keenly alive to the advantages of
European settlement not to be alarmed at this threat. They agreed to
deal with the settlers by means of peaceful articles of commerce.

Marsden now began a wonderful series of journeys. His obligation to the
timber-cutters led him far up the Thames Valley, but he soon went on by
himself and reached Tauranga, where he found memories of Captain Cook.
Returning to his ship in the Thames estuary, he made more than one
expedition to Kaipara and the more northern parts of the island,
including places where no white man had hitherto been seen.[2] In these
journeys the Mokoia _pa_, which stood on the site of the present village
of Panmure, near Auckland, became a kind of pivot of his operations. Its
chief, Hinaki, was particularly friendly, and in him Marsden hoped to
find a second Ruatara, and in his village a basis for mission work
further south. In fact, all the people of this district seemed more
accessible to the appeal of religion than were those of the Bay of
Islands. From June to November the devoted missionary passed up and down
the waterways which encompass the present city of Auckland, as well as
overland to Hokianga and Whangaroa, preaching in the numerous villages
the simple truth of the one living and true GOD. After one of his
journeys he writes: "I had now been twenty days from the ship, during
which time I had slept in my clothes, generally in the open air or in a
boat or canoe. A great part of the time the weather had been very wet
and stormy. I had crossed many swamps, creeks, and rivers, from the Bay
of Plenty[3] on the eastern side to Kaipara on the western coast; yet,
through the kind providence of God, I met with no accident or unpleasant
circumstances, but, on the contrary, had been highly gratified, and
returned to the ship in perfect health."

  [2] Marsden's routes of travel during this time have been thoroughly
  traced and elucidated by Dr. Hocken. In a biography or in a work on
  the exploration of New Zealand a full account of these interesting
  journeys should be given. But, for reasons which will presently
  appear, they have hardly any importance for the history of the Church.
  One Rembrandtesque passage may be quoted in which Marsden narrates his
  visit to the _pa_ of Pataua, near Whangarei. This _pa_ was built high
  above the sea, upon rocks which had "the appearance of an old abbey in
  ruins.... I was conducted up the narrow pass [writes Marsden] which I
  could not ascend without assistance, the path was so steep and narrow.
  When I had reached the top, I found a number of men, women, and
  children sitting round their fires roasting snappers, crawfish, and
  fern root. It was now quite dark. The roaring of the sea at the foot
  of the _pa_, as the waves rolled into the deep caverns beneath the
  high precipice upon which we stood, whose top and sides were covered
  with huts, and the groups of natives conversing round their fires, all
  tended to excite new and strange ideas for reflection."

  [3] I have ventured to substitute this term for the "Mercury Bay" of
  the original. It is clear that Marsden thought himself much further
  north than he really was. Dr. Hocken proposes to read "Towranga,"
  which, of course, means the same as my own emendation.

[Illustration: VIEW OF PAIHIA.]

Marsden's labours were indeed so great and so many-sided as to compel
the most sincere admiration. At one time he seems wholly given up to
trade, and on his first visit the Maoris were astonished to see him busy
with the aristocratic Nicholas in salting barrels of fish for export to
Sydney. At another time he is the adventurous explorer bearing
cheerfully the extremes of hot and cold, of wet and dry. Yet again he is
the sagacious counsellor and the resolute leader of men; and with it all
he is the warm-hearted Christian who can stay in the midst of his
labours to indite a letter to England, full of spiritual force and
sweetness. Wherever he passes he finds his God a very present help; he
lies down at night in the wet grass with feelings of adoring wonder at
the mysteries of redemption, and before his closing eyes there rises the
vision of the Cross of Jesus.

At his departure in December, Marsden left behind him a peaceful
community and an apparently prosperous mission. Butler had during the
year put into the ground the first plough ever used in New Zealand. The
Maoris were quiet, and the missionaries went to their beds at night
without any sense of insecurity. Four of the newly visited chiefs from
the Thames district followed Marsden at a short interval to Australia,
and stayed with him in his parsonage at Parramatta. Among these was
Hinaki of Mokoia, who wished to continue his journey to England. They
were still in the house when, in the following May, Hongi and Kendall
arrived on their return journey. It was the month of the death of the
great Napoleon at St. Helena, and it would almost seem as though a
portion of his spirit had passed into the Maori chief on his passage
through the Atlantic. At any rate Hongi began now to disclose his
purposes: "Do not go to England," he said to Hinaki at Marsden's table;
"you will surely be ill there. Better go home and see to your defences.
I shall come to visit you before long." All the presents which the great
people in England had showered upon him (excepting, of course, the suit
of armour) he now bartered for muskets and powder. A legend of his race
told how when the Maoris came from Hawaiki they were followed by an
invisible canoe in which sat the figure of Death. With more reason might
that grim form have been supposed to lurk now in the hold of the ship in
which Hongi and Hinaki sailed together to their native land.

They arrived there in the July of 1821, and the missionaries of Kerikeri
soon realised that they had a different Hongi to deal with. For a time
he held aloof from them, and when he did speak he showed great reserve.
Some allowance must of course be made for the inevitable disillusionment
of such a return. After the palaces of the bishops by whom he had been
entertained in England, the mission stations must have appeared even
startlingly humble. But the real grievance was the cessation of the
trade in firearms. The King had approved of this trade: why should the
missionaries object? Kendall in his new clerical attire seemed quite
willing to play the part of court-chaplain to the would-be king. "I
would as soon," he said, "trade with a musket as with a dollar."

The effects of the change were seen immediately. The Maoris grew
insolent, broke down the settlers' fences, and stole whatever they could
lay their hands on. This was, however, as nothing to that which
followed. Hongi and Hinaki had become reconciled on the ship, but a new
act of aggression soon called for reprisals, and at the head of an
immense naval armament Hongi set out for the waters of the Waitemata.
Clad in his helmet and coat of mail, he declaimed his wrongs before his
enemy's stockade at Mokoia, and was only saved by his armour from sudden
death by a treacherous bullet. Hinaki would grant no satisfaction; a
general assault took place, and after a desperate contest the _pa_ was
taken. Hongi swallowed his rival's eyes, and drank the blood that welled
from his throat. The taste of blood seemed to rouse the tiger in his
nature, and he proceeded to sweep the country with fire and sword.
"Powerful tribes on both sides of the Thames were cut off, and for years
the whole country was deserted." The districts which Marsden had visited
so hopefully the year before were all reduced to desolation. The people
whom he had found so receptive of divine truth were now no longer to be
seen: they were either killed, carried into slavery, or driven to the
mountains of the interior.

The missionaries were not exposed to this awful carnage, but their
position can only be described as terrible. The Mokoia expedition
brought back (it was said) no less than 2,000 prisoners. Several of
these were slaughtered in cold blood at the very doors of the station at
Kerikeri. The Maoris were inflamed with the lust for blood; they gloated
over the sufferings of their enemies. They surrounded the mission
premises with poles, upon which were stuck the heads of the slain, while
the remains of the cooked flesh lay rotting on the ground. The unhappy
missionaries could do but little. They rescued a few children from among
the prisoners, but for the rest they had to bear as best they might the
intolerable humiliation of feeling that they owed their very safety to
the protection of Hongi. The Kerikeri settlers were reduced to the
further degradation of making cartridge boxes for the troops, while
their forge was used for the manufacture of ammunition. How much is
contained in these few lines from the schoolmaster's diary: "The natives
have been casting balls all day in Mr. Kemp's shop. They come in when
they please, and do what they please, and take away what they please,
and it is vain to resist them."

Marsden and the Home authorities were powerless to help. Of course
Kendall was dismissed. So was another of the settlers. Others left of
their own accord, and the Society at Home thought of abandoning the
mission. The one bright spot was Rangihoua or Te Puna, where the two
original catechists, King and Hall, kept quietly on, thus showing the
value of Marsden's training during the years of waiting in Sydney. Their
settlement was gradually improving, and at least they kept the flag
flying. As for Marsden himself, there was even one more drop of
bitterness to be added to his cup. Ever since the beginning of the
mission he had kept up a seminary for New Zealanders at Parramatta. The
chiefs were eager to send their sons to be educated under his care, and
in the beginning of 1820 he had no less than twenty-five in residence.
But in the following year a time of mortality set in; several of the
young men died, and for a time the seminary was closed.

Marsden had inaugurated the mission in 1814 with the message of peace
and goodwill to men. Now, as he thought of the charred villages and
whitening bones which marked the face of the country after seven years
of Gospel preaching, he must surely have felt bound to take other words
as the burden of his cry: "I came not to send peace, but a sword."



CHAPTER IV.

THE NEW BEGINNING.

(1823-1830).

  And he spake to me, "O Maeldune, let be this purpose of thine!
  Remember the words of the Lord when he told us, 'Vengeance is mine.'
    His fathers have slain thy fathers in war or in single strife.
    Thy fathers have slain his fathers, each taken a life for a life.
      Thy father had slain his father: how long shall the murder last?
      Go back to the island of Finn, and suffer the past to be past."
    --_Legend of Maeldune._


"When I reflect upon the evils which have crept in among the
missionaries, I am astonished that the mission has not been completely
annihilated. That it should continue to exist under such difficulties
affords a proof, in my judgment, that God will still carry on the work."
Such was Marsden's reflection in 1823--the year which saw a beginning of
better things. Out of the midst of the failure and the shame this man of
faith was able to gather hope for the future.

The great need of the mission was a higher class of workers. This need
was now to be supplied--in fact, the preparation for its supply had been
quietly going on concurrently with the mission itself, though in a
different quarter of the globe.

One of the last actions of the great war which was coming to an end when
Marsden proclaimed his message of peace in 1814 was the capture of an
American frigate in the West Indies. The prize was being towed to a
British port when a terrific gale sprang up, and in the midst of the
confusion the prisoners attempted to retake the ship. The danger of the
situation drove one of the officers to serious thoughts, and on the
conclusion of peace he resigned his commission and resolved to enter the
service of a higher monarch. For some years he lived quietly in England
on his half-pay allowance, but his thoughts were drawn towards New
Zealand, a part of the mission field which seemed to offer the greatest
peril and the greatest need. The news that the C.M.S. were about to
equip a ship for their station in that country seemed to him a call to a
post where his nautical skill would be of service. He volunteered to
take command of this vessel without pay. His offer could not be
accepted, because the project of the ship had already been abandoned,
but the Society accepted the lieutenant as one of their missionaries.
All arrangements were made for his setting out, when news arrived from
the Antipodes that the settlers would probably soon be driven out of the
country. This was no time to be sending out fresh workers. But the
candidate was not cast down. He studied surgery, and bided his time. The
Society was now coming to the conclusion that lay catechists were
undesirable, and it ordered the lieutenant to stay for two years longer
in England, and to prepare for Holy Orders. He was now a married man,
and could not go up to a university, but he studied at home under the
direction of a clerical brother-in-law who had first turned his
attention to foreign missions. In 1822 he was once more ready, and had
received the orders both of deacon and priest when tidings came of
Hongi's first raid. The Committee offered to send him to some quieter
part of the world, but he earnestly pleaded to be allowed to adhere to
his original purpose. Thus it was that Henry Williams reached New
Zealand, at the age of thirty-one years, arriving just in time to save
the mission and to give it a new beginning.

The character of the man thus providentially trained and guided is a
factor of the utmost moment in our history. He brought to the mission
just those qualities of leadership and power in which it had hitherto
been deficient, and he was joined somewhat later by a brother whose
milder and more intellectual nature supplied what was wanting in his
own. Drawn from the professional class, the brothers Williams of course
stood for a higher culture and a wider knowledge than could be expected
of the settlers who were hitherto in the field. These advantages were by
no means unappreciated by the Maoris, but the quality which impressed
them most immediately was the personal force and dauntless spirit of the
elder man. "He is a _tangata riri_" (i.e., angry man), said a hostile
Maori; "he shuts his tent door upon us, and does not sit by our sides
and talk; he has the _Atua_ upon his lips, and we are afraid of his
anger." He could hold at arm's length two powerful men who were
struggling to fly at one another's throats. He soon won the name of "the
man with the iron thumb," from the fact that on one occasion, while he
held in his hand the key of his study door, he felled to the earth the
leader of a gang of bullies who were bent on doing him bodily injury. On
another occasion a number of angry natives crowded in upon himself and a
companion as they were building a boat. After standing their
interference for some time, the builders seized, one a broken oar and
the other a stout stake, and after a sharp fray, in which the arm of the
carpenter was broken in two places, the intruders were driven from the
spot.

Nor was it only the men who felt the power of his arm. A story is told
of an encounter with some shameless women who had crossed from
Kororareka to taunt his school-girls at Paihia. The missionaries were
busy at a translation meeting, and at first sent some peaceful
messengers to bid the "ship-girls" depart. The messengers came back
discomfited, and the behaviour grew more wanton and defiant. At last,
Henry Williams came forth, umbrella in hand and spectacles on nose. The
whole school came out to watch the encounter. The leader of the band--a
great lady of the place--came on with outstretched tongue and insulting
cries, when "old four eyes," as she called him, gave her a sounding
thwack with his umbrella. Startled by this indignity she turned and
fled. "Duck them," cried the missionary; and before the saucy damsels
could regain their canoe they were thoroughly soused in the water, and
went back (as the narrator says) wetter, if not better, than they came.

No wonder that "Te Wiremu" soon obtained an ascendancy over a people who
idolised physical prowess. But it would be a great mistake to suppose
that he brought to the mission nothing more than the authoritative tone
of the quarter-deck. His piety was deep and self-sacrificing. It was in
order that he might exercise his ministry on shipboard that he had
chosen to come out in a female convict ship, where he had been untiring
in his attempts to uplift the unhappy creatures with which it was
crowded. During his stay at Parramatta he had thrown himself into
Marsden's work among the convicts of the other sex. There was sweetness
as well as strength in the straight glance of the well-opened eye, and
in the fine lines of the compressed lips.

In one respect Williams differed both from Marsden, who preceded, and
from Selwyn, who followed him. He was not an idealist; he dreamed no
dreams and he saw no visions. He fixed his attention upon the work
immediately in front, and to it he gave his undivided energy. The old
naval instinct of unquestioning obedience was strong in him to the last.
Writing to the C.M.S. before his departure from England, he assured them
that he should always regard their orders as rigidly as he ever did
those of his senior officer in His Majesty's service. Like the centurion
in the Gospels, he regarded himself as a man under authority, and he
expected a like obedience from those who were under him.

Marsden himself brought Henry Williams to New Zealand, and decided upon
the place of his abode. The chiefs were all anxious for the presence of
a missionary because of the commercial advantages which it brought.
Marsden was loth to refuse the request of some disconsolate relatives of
the slaughtered Hinaki, but he thought it wiser to bestow the favour
upon one who had been with him at Parramatta, even though the chief
himself was at the moment on the warpath with Hongi. Accordingly, the
new missionary was placed at Paihia, a village whose open beach lay
opposite to Kororareka, the great resort of European ships, from whose
crews the Maoris were acquiring vices and diseases more hideous than
their own. Its central situation gave to Paihia great advantages, and it
soon became the real focus of the mission.

That the work of the past eight years had not been altogether in vain
was proved by the altered demeanour of the Maoris. When the bell rang on
Sundays at Paihia, they came along the beach, dressed in European
clothes and carrying their books with the utmost propriety. It was only
a fashion, but it meant something. At the two older stations some of
them could repeat prayers and sing hymns. At Marsden's departure his
ship struck on the rocks while working out of the Bay, but the natives
of the island of Moturoa treated the shipwrecked passengers with
kindness, and forebore to plunder their goods.

This was not much, but it carried hope for the future. The real hope,
however, lay in the change of workers and the change of methods. At the
time of the wreck, Marsden had with him several of the older settlers
whose connection with the mission was now dissolved. In their places new
names gradually appear. Fairburn came with Henry Williams in 1823;
Clarke and Davis followed in the next year. Hamlin accompanied the Rev.
W. Williams in 1826. In 1828 came two clergymen--Yate and Brown--besides
a lay catechist, Baker. Chapman arrived in 1830, Preece in 1831,
Matthews in 1832. Puckey and Shepherd had in the meantime come from
Australia. King and Hall were left at Rangihoua, but the latter was
compelled by an asthmatic affection to leave New Zealand in 1824, and
for a time helped Marsden in his work among the Maori youths at
Parramatta.

It is evident from the above list that the "settlement" policy still
held its ground. And indeed settlers of the right type were urgently
needed. As Mr. Saunders points out, the mission had suffered greatly
through the lack of a skilled agriculturist. The first catechists were
town artisans, and so were most of those that followed. They had tried
hard to grow wheat, and not altogether without success. But on the whole
the settlements had failed to support themselves. After the
establishment of Kerikeri, Marsden had refused to send more flour from
Sydney. He himself had been so successful with his farm that he expected
others to do the same. If they would not work, he said, neither should
they eat. But he could command the labour of convicts to do the work:
this the New Zealand missionaries could not do. For long they had only
hoes and spades; the Maoris would not help them; the soil and the
climate were unfavourable. Some improvement there was when in 1824
Richard Davis, a Dorsetshire farmer, joined the staff. But even he was
beaten again and again in his attempts at wheat-growing. It was not
until 1830, when a move was made from the mangrove-lined shores of the
Bay to the higher and more English country twelve miles inland at
Waimate, that farming operations really began to succeed: then they
prospered in marvellous fashion.

On the whole, the "settlement" scheme was a failure. It was too high for
average human nature. The drastic regulations which Marsden left behind
him in 1823--regulations which forbad even the slightest transaction
between individual settlers and the trading ships--were tantamount to a
confession of a breakdown of the system. As for Henry Williams, he
determined on a change almost from the first. He would not try to raise
produce at Paihia. Seek ye _first_ the kingdom of God, he said. For
years he left himself without anything that could be called a house, but
he must have a church at once, and not only a church, but an organ. The
church was soon built, and a pipe organ, which delighted his Welsh ears,
was sent out by some of his friends at home. For the first two years he
devoted much of his time and money to the building of a vessel, which
should bring flour and groceries from Sydney, gather children from other
districts for his schools, and collect pork and potatoes wherewith to
feed them. In this 60-ton schooner, which was launched under the name of
the _Herald_ early in 1826, the missionary made several voyages to
Australia, to Tauranga, and to Hokianga, but she was wrecked on entering
the last-named harbour in 1828.

The schools were indeed the pivot of the mission during the first ten
years of the new order. Hitherto they had been small and intermittent,
but at Paihia they soon developed into large and important institutions.
Discipline was rigidly maintained. From early morning, when the bell
rang out at 5 o'clock, the hours of the day were mapped out for
different kinds of work. The girls' schools were well cared for by Mrs.
Williams--a lady whose literary gift has rescued from oblivion much of
the life of those far-off days. A part of each day was devoted by the
missionaries to their own acquisition of the Maori language, and to the
translation of the Bible and Prayer Book. At this work William Williams
excelled. He was an Oxford graduate, who joined his brother in the March
of 1826. The language seemed to have for him no terrors and hardly any
difficulties. From time to time small volumes of translated portions
with hymns and catechism were carried across to Sydney and brought back
in printed form. These were eagerly bought and read by the Maoris. They
were the first printed specimens of their own tongue, and the influence
they exerted was incalculable.

Learning, teaching, and translating occupied the brotherhood at Paihia,
while Davis was farming at Kerikeri or Waimate, and the Wesleyans were
founding a station further north at Whangaroa. Outside these quiet spots
there was still turmoil and bloodshed. The year 1827 was a particularly
stormy period. Hongi raided Whangaroa and there received a dangerous
wound. The Wesleyans were panic-stricken and fled overland to Kerikeri.
They were received there and at Paihia with brotherly welcome by men who
felt that their own turn might soon come. "It is not easy," writes
Bishop Williams, "to describe this breach which had been made upon the
mission body." As soon as the news became known in Australia, Marsden
flew to the scene in a warship, but he found the missionaries facing the
prospect with quiet courage. "It gives me great pleasure," he wrote, "to
find the missionaries so comfortable, living in unity and godly love,
devoting themselves to the work." They were well aware, of course, that
so far as their tenure depended upon human protection the outlook was
not bright. Hongi sent to them a message advising them to stay as long
as he should live, but to fly to their own country as soon as he should
die. They determined to stay at their posts as long as possible, but
they shipped some tons of goods to Sydney, in case of a _taua_ or
stripping-party which might be expected to visit them as soon as their
protector should have died. Such a proceeding would have been strictly
in accordance with Maori law of _muru_, and would be understood as a
complimentary testimonial to the dead man's dignity. But it would have
meant to the white men the loss of all their possessions, and the being
left naked and destitute in a savage country.

Early in the year 1828 the long-expected death of the great warrior took
place. He died as a heathen, his last words being, "Be courageous, be
courageous!" But he had drawn closer to the missionaries during the last
year of his life, and their estimates of him are nearly all favourable.
"His conduct towards us," writes Clarke, "was kind, and his last moments
were employed in requesting his survivors to treat us well." "He was
ever the missionaries' friend," says Davis, "a shrewd, thoughtful man,
very superior to any other native I have yet seen; the greatest man who
has ever lived in these islands." Bishop Williams' estimate is less
favourable, but the Committee of the C.M.S. (relying perhaps on Yate's
unqualified encomium) considered that he had been specially raised up by
God to be the protector and helper of the Gospel.

However beneficial his life may have been, the historian cannot help a
sigh of relief when he comes to his death. For it marks the time when
the mission began to stand on its own feet. So far from being
"stripped," the missionaries actually rose in the estimation of the
Maoris. A quarrel arose out of Hongi's death, which led to hostilities
between the men of the Bay of Islands and those of Hokianga. The army of
the Bay was worsted, and both sides were not unwilling for peace if
honour could be preserved. Henry Williams and three of his colleagues
went to the field and visited the camps. Everywhere they were treated
with respect, and on Sunday a strict rest was enjoined as a mark of
deference to these ambassadors of peace. Williams preached to a
congregation of 500 on the neutral ground between the contending hosts.
The silent and respectful behaviour recalled Marsden's first
congregation fourteen years before. Next morning peace was concluded.
"These," said Williams, "are new days indeed!"

The role of peacemaker thus taken up by the missionaries was one which
they were often called upon to play. After a short interval of quiet,
the flames of war were rekindled by the curses hurled by one young
woman at another on the beach at Kororareka. A sharp battle was fought
between the relatives and partisans of the two damsels, in which many
lives were lost. At this juncture, Marsden arrived suddenly in the Bay.
Together with Henry Williams he visited the hostile camps, and after
some days of discussion peace was made. But the "Girls' War" did not end
here. Two of the Ngapuhi chiefs, not being able to obtain vengeance for
their slaughtered father among those who had slain him, went far away
from their own territory and raided the islands in the Bay of Plenty.
This involved the whole tribe in a war with the people of Tauranga, a
war which dragged on for two whole years. Henry Williams and his
brethren accompanied the fleets in their boat, and used their influence
to stop the war. Partly through his exhortations, and partly through the
absence of Hongi's determined generalship, the Ngapuhi fought
half-heartedly and with little success. "The words of Wiremu," they
confessed, "lay heavy on us, and our guns would not shoot." The stage
had arrived which is depicted in the legend quoted at the head of this
chapter. Like the Irish warrior, the New Zealanders were ready to say:

  O weary was I of the travel, the trouble, the strife, and the sin.

The deadly feuds of the last thirteen years had greatly reduced the
population, and the Maoris were bound to admit that the new religion
offered a more excellent way.

This consummation, though highly desirable in itself, was of course
regarded by the missionaries only as a means to a further end--the
thorough conversion of the people to the Christian faith. Such
conversions were rare, but they were just frequent enough to give
encouragement. At first it was only the old and the sick who were drawn
by the announcement of a heaven where bloodshed and turmoil should
cease. Of these the case of the old man, Rangi, is notable through his
being the first of his race to be received into the Church of Christ by
baptism (1825). A much more striking conversion was that of Taiwhanga,
one of Hongi's chief warriors, in 1829. His struggles against the
fascinations of the old life were severe and prolonged. Frequently he
was solicited to go with a party on the warpath, and even his musket was
coveted as a weapon endowed with more than ordinary power. At last he
resolved that his children should be baptised, and the letter which he
wrote to the missionaries on this occasion is of uncommon interest:
"Here am I thinking of the day when my son shall be baptised. You are
messengers from God, therefore I wish that he should be baptised
according to your customs. I have left off my native rites and my native
thoughts, and am now thinking how I may untie the cords of the devil,
and so loosen them that they may fall off together with all sin. Christ
is near, perhaps beholding my sinfulness; he looks into the hearts of
men. It is well for me to grieve in the morning, in the evening, and at
night, that my sins may be blotted out."

The baptism of Taiwhanga's children (August 23) was naturally looked
upon as a significant event. William Williams spent part of the previous
day in translating the baptismal service, and he determined to baptise
at the same time his own infant son, Leonard Williams, afterwards to
become Bishop of Waiapu. Six months later, Taiwhanga himself came
forward publicly for baptism, and received the appropriate name of
David. He immediately became an active missionary among his own
countrymen, and proved an invaluable help to his teachers.

In spite of these and other gleams of success, the mission seemed to its
friends to be doing little during these years, inasmuch as it made no
extension beyond the limits of the Bay of Islands. The regret was shared
by the leaders on the spot, and it has already been shown how Williams
made more than one attempt by sea to effect an opening in the Bay of
Plenty. It must be remembered, however, that the country to the
southward of the northern isthmus had been desolated by Hongi's wars,
and that the few remaining inhabitants were naturally hostile to
anything that seemed to come from the Ngapuhi. Concentration was forced
upon the mission by the circumstances of the time. When once the schools
were established, they required the whole of the available staff of
teachers to conduct them efficiently. To have weakened the schools would
have been bad policy, even if openings had presented themselves
elsewhere.

[Illustration: HENRY WILLIAMS AT THE SIGNING OF THE TREATY AT WAITANGI.]

But, as a matter of fact, the missionaries "builded better than they
knew." The really important feature of their work was little guessed
even by themselves. Among their classes at Paihia were many wistful
faces of slaves who had been torn from their distant homes in Hongi's
wars. These had been befriended by the missionaries, and were placed on
an equal footing in the schools with the sons of chiefs and rangatiras.
It was these who drank in most deeply the Christian teaching, and it was
these who were destined to be the pioneers of the future.

Outwardly the most striking achievements of these schools were the
annual examinations which took place at the close of the years 1828 to
1830. Twice the scholars from Paihia and Rangihoua were taken by boat to
Kerikeri, where the proceedings lasted for two or three days, and always
finished with a generous feast. The gathering of 1830 took place at
Paihia, and included 178 men and boys, besides 92 girls. It is not often
that a school examination acquires a political significance, but it was
so in this case. There were more than 1,000 Maori spectators
present--men who had fought on opposite sides in the recent battle of
Kororareka. The orderliness of the proceedings, and the delightful
atmosphere of keenness and pleasure which pervaded the scene, drew all
parties together and served to weld the bond of peace.

Such exhibitions of the working of the new faith, together with the
adhesion of a powerful convert like Taiwhanga, were bound to tell upon
the people around. Evidences began to multiply of a serious attention to
the teaching of the missionaries. Here and there in unexpected quarters
signs appeared of coming change. To use the picturesque native simile,
"the fire was spreading in the fern."



CHAPTER V.

THE FORWARD MOVE.

(1831-1837).

  Speak unto the children of Israel, that they go forward.
    --_Exod._


Unlike their brethren in Africa and some other parts of the world, the
New Zealand missionaries did not attempt much in the way of exploration.
Marsden discovered the Manukau Harbour in 1820; Kendall and King were
the first white men to visit Hokianga; Henry Williams' little _Herald_
was the first European vessel since Captain Cook's _Endeavour_ to enter
the Bay of Plenty. Greater expeditions were prevented by a variety of
obstacles. The missionaries were "settlers," and a settler is tied to
his home duties. The land route from the Bay of Islands southwards had
been devastated by Hongi. The clerical missionaries were few in number,
and the schools absorbed all their energies. Hence it was that even as
late as 1833--eighteen years after Marsden's first landing--their
knowledge of the country was but slight. The map which Yate put forth at
this time shows very little advance on that of Captain Cook. The
interior of the island is almost wholly blank.

But the hour had now struck for a forward movement. New lay workers
arrived from England--Wilson and Morgan in 1833, Colenso and others in
the year following. The termination of the "Girls' War" had at last
brought peace between the Ngapuhi and their neighbours; the inland
tribes were beginning to creep out of their fastnesses and to re-occupy
their ravaged lands.

Very cautiously and tentatively was the advance begun. Instead of a move
to the southward, the Committee decided in the first place to try the
north. At the end of 1832, Mr. William Williams with a large party of
catechists and Maoris made their way for 80 miles over wooded mountains
from Waimate to Kaitaia. The people at this place were so eager for a
missionary that the resolution was soon taken to plant a station among
them. It was long, however, before an actual settlement was made. In the
following year some ground was bought, and a more direct road explored
across the mountains. Even then there was hesitation. A fourth
expedition was sent "to ascertain the true state of the minds of the
natives with regard to our settling among them." The answer was brief
and satisfactory: "Make haste and take up your abode among us." Thus
encouraged, Puckey and Matthews made a temporary stay, and at last,
after some months, brought up their wives and their belongings.

The site of the new station was a beautiful one. It lay amidst rivers
and hills, and its position was such that the roar of the surf on both
eastern and western coasts of the island could be distinctly heard.
Shortly after his permanent settlement, Mr. Puckey made a journey to the
extreme north of the island and reached Cape Reinga. Standing on the
black cliffs against which the sea was dashing with terrific force,
listening to the scream of the sea-fowl and the weird noise produced by
the waves in a hollow cave, the white man could easily understand how
this dread place came to be regarded by the Maoris as the gateway into
the unseen world. The masses of kelp which swung to and fro in the waves
were believed to be the door through which the spirits passed to
Hawaiki, or to some idealised counterpart thereof, and a projecting
tree-root halfway down the cliff was highly venerated as the ladder
which assisted them in their descent. Very pathetic was the fear
expressed by the older Maoris lest the white man should cut away this
frail support of their hope of a future life: "Let the young men go with
you to your heaven, but leave us our ladder to the Reinga." The
missionary left them their ladder; but he told them on his return to
Kaitaia that, whereas a death had occurred there during his absence, he
had seen no bunches of grass on the road, such as they believed to be
left by the spirits while passing up the coast. The old superstitions
were clearly shaken, and the better faith soon took a powerful hold upon
the people of the north.

Though this first attempt at an extension of the work was encouraging,
it meant but little for the rest of New Zealand. Until a real attack
could be made upon the south, the work could hardly be said to have
begun in earnest. The land and the people were for the most part
unknown, but a venture of faith must be made. This venture was begun in
the October of 1833 under the leadership of Henry Williams, and
constitutes one of the turning points in the history of New Zealand.

Besides the leader and the Rev. A. N. Brown, the expedition consisted of
Messrs. Fairburn and Morgan with a party of Maoris. They left the Bay of
Islands on October 22nd in open boats. The nights were spent on various
islands, which they found to be all deserted, though everywhere they
could see the remains of fortifications and villages. Where now the
merchants of Auckland have their summer residences, there were no living
beings to share the morning devotions of the missionaries, save the
birds with their melodious songs. On the site of the Mokoia _pa_, where
Marsden had so often received the hospitality of Hinaki, they could see
nothing but fern and fuchsia bushes, with here and there an axe-cloven
skull. Proceeding down the Hauraki Gulf, the same scenes presented
themselves, until at last a little smoke was noticed on the Coromandel
coast. A fortnight's travel brought them to Kopu at the head of the
gulf--175 miles in a straight line from the Bay of Islands. Here they
entered the Thames or Waihou River, and were carried up it by the tide.
On their left was a wooded range of hills, and on the right a flat
forest that extended as far as the eye could reach.

Habitations now became increasingly frequent, but the villages were all
new, and among them appeared the remains of old _pas_ which had been
destroyed by Hongi. Strange stories, too, were told to the visitors of a
miserable remnant of the old inhabitants, who still lingered on in the
forest which lay to the right hand of the travellers. The whole of this
country was submerged from time to time by the flooded rivers, and no
one knew or could conjecture how these people lived. The smoke of their
fires was occasionally seen, but they never held any communication with
the people who had come to occupy the river banks.

By the evening of the second day the travellers arrived at a settlement
that seemed to be of some importance. Now at last they had reached the
heathen country, and could begin their mission to the south. Some 200
natives crowded round to see the visitors, those in the rear holding
torches to increase the illumination. The missionaries began their
Evensong with one of the Maori hymns which they were accustomed to sing
at Paihia. Hardly had they sung a line when, to their intense surprise,
the whole of the audience joined heartily in the tune. Trembling with
excitement the reader began the Evening Prayer, and when he uttered the
words, "O Lord, open Thou our lips," there came from a hundred manly
voices the significant response, "And our mouth shall show forth Thy
praise." So it continued throughout. Canticle and creed, prayer and
hymn, were all known to these presumably heathen people. At the
conclusion of the service the secret was discovered. Three of their boys
had been taught at Paihia. Here was the first fruit of the mission
schools.

For some days longer the journey up the river continued, the object
being to gain an interview with the chief potentate of the region, the
celebrated Waharoa. On leaving the river a dreary march began through
woods and swamps. Henry Williams was carried on two poles by native
bearers who often sank in mud up to their chests. At last they emerged
into a beautiful park-like country, where stood Matamata, the _pa_ of
Waharoa. The old man was very gracious. Though his career had been
almost as bloodstained as was that of Hongi, he made a favourable
impression upon the missionaries, and "asked many significant questions
about religion." He was keenly desirous of a mission settlement in his
_pa_. Williams discussed with him many plans for an extension of the
work. "This conversation," says Carleton, "was the clue to all
subsequent proceedings."

Returning down the river, a site was chosen for a station at Puriri. The
spot lay amongst flax swamps on a tributary of the Thames. It was
somewhat damp and unhealthy, but it was centrally situated as regards
the tribes of the neighbourhood. Before the end of the year it was
occupied by Morgan, Preece, and Wilson, who found raupo houses already
erected for them by the Maoris.

The Thames expedition had proved beyond a doubt that the land lay open
to mission enterprise. But the surprises which it offered were not
always pleasant ones. Early in the year 1836 Brown and Hamlin, with some
Maori converts, started overland to explore the Waikato. The Kaipara and
Tamaki districts were waste and uninhabited, nor were any human beings
seen, till they struck the great river itself. In the absence of canoes
they essayed to cross it on _mokis_ or bundles of flax-stalks. These
rafts were so satisfactory that they paddled down the stream for some
distance, when they were met by a boat containing an Englishman and a
younger brother of Te Wherowhero--afterwards well known as the Maori
King, Potatau. The strangers were friendly, but their remarks were
uncomfortably direct. "Why did you not come before?" they asked. "You
have stayed so long in the Bay of Islands that surely your children are
old enough to be missionaries. If you had come among us some time ago,
the Taranakis would have been alive, but now we have cut them nearly all
off."

The opening thus indicated could no longer be neglected. A few months
later a second expedition was directed towards the same quarter, though
by a different route. It consisted of Messrs. W. Williams, Brown, and
Morgan, and they had with them the speaker of the sharp rebuke above
mentioned. Approaching from the side of the Thames Valley they reached
Ngaruawahia, at the confluence of the Waikato and Waipa rivers. Boating
up the Waipa until they could pull no longer, they landed at Mangapouri
near Pirongia. So pleased were they with the place that they decided to
fix a station there. The local chief at once offered land, and set men
at work to clear it, though a few months necessarily elapsed before it
could be actually occupied.

Mr. Williams and his colleagues meanwhile journeyed back into the Thames
Valley, and, after promising Waharoa to send him a teacher as soon as
possible, passed on to the Bay of Plenty. At Tauranga a large gathering
of the inhabitants was held. They had evidently not forgotten the
efforts which had been made four years before by Henry Williams to save
their settlement from the wrath of the Ngapuhi. They had come to realise
that the missionaries actually cared for other tribes as well as for the
favoured Ngapuhi; they felt that a mission station would help in the
preservation of peace; and they undertook to build houses in readiness
for the teachers who should come.

The year 1835 saw the opening of the four new stations. Hamlin and Stack
settled at Mangapouri; Brown and Morgan at Matamata; Wilson at Tauranga;
and Chapman near Ohinemutu, amidst the hot springs and geysers of
Rotorua. It will be noticed that these frontier posts were occupied
mainly by the new men who had not acquired much knowledge of the
language or of the customs of the Maori. Some misunderstandings were
bound to arise from this cause, and Wilson nearly lost his life at
Puriri, but soon a more peaceful state of things ensued. Everything
seemed bright and hopeful when, on Christmas Day, a horrible murder
occurred at Rotorua, which kindled a fresh war, and threw the work into
confusion for several years.

The details of the war lie, of course, outside our subject: it will
suffice to notice those points at which it touched the missionary band.
The Rotorua station was naturally the first to feel its effects. Mr.
Chapman did his utmost to check the outbreak of hostilities, and having
secured the head of the murdered man he had it conveyed to the
relatives. But the victim was a chief of high rank and nearly related to
Waharoa. It was incumbent therefore upon that redoubtable warrior to
obtain _utu_ for the slaughter of his relative. He was still a heathen,
and was deaf to the exhortations of the Christians. "How sweet," he
said, "will taste the flesh of the Rotoruas along with their new
kumeras!" It was not long before he was able to gratify this wolfish
taste, and in the confusion which followed the assault upon the
Ohinemutu _pa_ the missionary premises were looted. They were at the
time in charge of two young assistants, Knight and Pilley--the former
being a nephew of Marsden. Both were felled to the ground, wounded and
stripped of their clothes. Chapman and his wife were fortunately absent.
Mrs. Chapman after many dangers reached Matamata, but the tide of war
rolled thither also, and the mission ladies were hurried through the
swamps to the river bank. Here they were met unexpectedly by Fairburn
and Wilson, who had been rowing up the Waihou for the last two days in
the endeavour to bring help to their colleagues at Rotorua. Wilson in
his journal thus describes the meeting: "River covered by a thick fog,
everything dripping wet. After rowing a few miles in the early morning
we came to a small sandy landing place. Here, under some canvas thrown
over the shrubs, we found Mr. Morgan and three missionaries'
wives--Mesdames Brown, Chapman, and Morgan--and with them two or three
native girls (bearers of their luggage from Matamata). These poor ladies
had all the appearance of fugitives, and such they really were. They had
slept in their clothes on the wet ground, and their chief comfort was a
little fire struggling for existence with wet green wood. On hearing the
noise of our boat landing, I saw from under the canvas a weary pale
face, nearly on a level with the wet earth, looking to see what it was.
How glad they were to see us! What a change in their countenances from
sorrow to gladness! Now--for a time at least--their troubles were over.
In a few minutes we had them packed and arranged in our little boat, and
sent them down the Waihou on their way to the Puriri."

Though the ladies had escaped unharmed, their belongings had not. The
Matamata station was no safe place for anything, on account of the
marauding bands who infested the country. As soon as possible therefore
the most valuable articles were packed and sent off towards the river.
News soon arrived that the convoy had been plundered. Morgan and Knight
set out in pursuit and encountered a band of armed men, whose grotesque
appearance brought a laugh to the missionaries' faces in spite of the
danger of the situation. Most of the party were dressed in white shirts,
and "one man was marching before the rest, with the utmost consequence,
his head and olive-coloured face being enveloped in a black silk bonnet
belonging to Mrs. Chapman, while a strip of cotton print, tied round his
neck, formed the remainder of his apparel--he having left his own
clothes at home, in order to his being lighter for fighting or anything
else he might have to do."

The humour of the moment was not lessened when it was found that the
strangely clad procession consisted not of the actual robbers, but of a
friendly party who had robbed them in turn. The hero of the bonnet
episode was, in fact, a son of Waharoa, who shortly afterwards embraced
Christianity, and under the new name of Wiremu Tamihana (William
Thomson) witnessed a good confession in the midst of his savage
compatriots, and actually built a new _pa_, in which he allowed no one
to live who did not join with him and his followers in worshipping God
and in keeping the elementary rules of morality.

Troubles continued to thicken, but the missionaries clung to their posts
as long as they could. Wilson went to the help of Chapman at Rotorua,
and together they retired across the lake to the island which has become
famous through the legend of Hinemoa. The beauty of its traditions could
hardly be appreciated by the fugitive missionaries: "The hut in which we
live," they wrote, "is small and damp, has neither chimney nor window,
and on rainy days, which confine us inside, we construct a lamp with
lard and cotton to read by, as best we can." But Chapman, like his wife,
never complained. Without a word of reproach or repining, he took his
friend over the ruins of the old station, which he had made the most
beautiful of all the mission properties. His one desire was to make
peace among his people, and for this purpose he sent once and again to
Henry Williams for his help. But even Wiremu, with all his efforts,
could not soften the heart of Waharoa nor of the Rotorua leaders. The
war accordingly went on, though now in desultory fashion. The Matamata
station was finally stripped, and its occupants driven to the north. The
Committee now withdrew Chapman to Tauranga, and finally with Wilson to
the Bay of Islands. They arrived there at about the same time as did the
refugees from the Thames.

The forward movement appeared thus to issue in failure. But the
abandonment was not for long, nor had the work already done been in
vain. Waharoa died a heathen, but he complained before his death that
his sons, under mission influence, were becoming too mild and forgiving.
The case of one of these--Tamihana--has already been noticed. Still more
remarkable is that of his warlike nephew, Ngakuku, whose name brings us
to one of the most touching incidents in the history of Maori
Christianity.

Ngakuku was not an avowed Christian, but he had sent his little
daughter, Tarore, to live with Mrs. Brown--one of the ladies whom we
found sheltering by the river bank in their flight from Matamata. In the
mission house the child Tarore had learned to read, and had been given a
copy of the Gospel of St. Luke. In the middle of October her father took
her and a younger brother on a journey to Tauranga. The party consisted
of several Maoris, and an Englishman who was connected with the mission.
At night they encamped at the foot of Wairere, where a magnificent
cascade falls from the high forest land above. After their meal, Ngakuku
offered prayers to the God whom he was just beginning to know, and when
they laid down to rest, Tarore pillowed her head upon her precious
Gospel. But their fire had been noticed by a party of Rotoruas far up
the valley. These crept down during the night, and just before daylight
made a sudden attack upon the camp. The Englishman's tent was the first
to be entered, and while it was being stripped, Ngakuku had time to
seize his little son and to escape into the bush. He tried to arouse
Tarore also, but the child was heavy with sleep and had to be abandoned.
When the enemy departed, the agonised father came down from his retreat
and found lying in the hut the mangled corpse of his little girl. He
carried it to Mr. Brown at Matamata, with the words, "My heart is sad,
for I do not know whether my child has gone to heaven or to the Reinga."
After evening prayers in the chapel, he rose and spoke to those present
from the words so new to him, "In my Father's house are many mansions."
Next day Tarore was buried amidst a scene of the deepest solemnity. The
father spoke at the close with strong feeling: "There lies my child; she
has been murdered as a payment for your bad conduct. But do not you
rise up to obtain satisfaction for her. God will do that. Let this be
the conclusion of the war with Rotorua. Let peace be now made. My heart
is not sad for Tarore, but for you. You wished teachers to come to you:
they came, but now you are driving them away."

"God will obtain satisfaction," said Ngakuku. Bishop Williams remarks on
the notable circumstance that, in an attack made upon Matamata some
weeks afterwards, out of five Rotorua natives who were killed, four were
concerned in this tragedy. Higher satisfaction still was made some years
afterwards when Uita, the man who led the attack, having a desire to
embrace Christianity, first sought reconciliation with Ngakuku. Nor did
the effects of the little maiden's death stop even here. What had become
of her Gospel? Who could tell?

       *       *       *       *       *

The moment when the refugees arrived in the Bay of Islands was a
particularly interesting one. Samuel Marsden was making his last visit
to New Zealand. He had come, as he came ten years before, to bring cheer
to his missionaries in a time of war and confusion. But the conditions
in 1837 were very different from those of 1827. _Then_, there was
darkness everywhere; _now_, in spite of the troubles in the south, there
was gladness and a feeling of success. The older stations had indeed
joyful tales to tell concerning the work of the last five years.
Whatever might have been the fate of the forward movement, it had
certainly coincided with a real religious awakening at the base in the
north. At Waimate this was especially evident. Richard Davis could tell
of days when he had over a hundred people coming to him with anxious
enquiries about their souls. Numbers of converts had been admitted,
after most stringent tests, not only to Baptism but to the Holy
Communion. At Paihia the schools had undoubtedly suffered through the
withdrawal of the teachers for the southern stations, but their work
had been done. Large numbers of the people could now read, and those who
had learned at the mission schools were teaching others in the villages
far and wide. And, above all, a printing press had been received at
Paihia in 1835. This event aroused extraordinary interest. The Maoris
danced before the ponderous case as it was drawn up the beach, and
acclaimed Colenso, the printer, as if he had been a victorious general.
Distant chiefs came bringing bags of potatoes for the precious books.
Two thousand copies of the Epistles to the Ephesians and the Philippians
were the first books to be published in this country; then came the
Gospel of St. Luke. This booklet was so eagerly sought for that the
printers could not bind the copies fast enough. Into regions previously
inaccessible the gracious words of divine wisdom penetrated. Tarore's
copy was not the only one that found its way into the wild southern
lands.

Hence it was that Marsden's last visit bore the aspect of a triumphal
progress. Landing at the Wesleyan station on the Hokianga River at the
end of February, he was received with the utmost joy by the
missionaries, who remembered his constant kindness to them, especially
at the time of their flight from Whangaroa. From Hokianga he was carried
on a litter by a procession of 70 men for 20 miles to Waimate, where he
was met by Messrs. W. Williams, Davis, and Clarke. With pride they
showed him the products of native workmanship in various
departments--the church, the mill, the flourishing farm, the road to
Kerikeri with its solid bridges. Marsden had always believed in the
capacity of the Maori for industrial pursuits: now the evidences of this
capacity were before him. But more grateful still to him was the sight
of people everywhere reading the Scriptures and the Prayer Book.
Wherever he went he was received with the utmost veneration. The heathen
fired off muskets and executed war dances; the Christians showed their
feelings in gentler ways. One chief sat upon the ground gazing upon him
in silence, without moving a limb or uttering a single word, for several
hours. "Let me alone," he said, when urged to move away; "let me take a
last look; I shall never see him again." At Kaitaia, Marsden held a
constant levee, sitting in an arm-chair, in an open field before the
mission house. More than a thousand Maoris came to see him there, some
of them having travelled for many miles.

During this tour the old hero visited all the stations, except those
which had been abandoned in the south. John King was the one link of
connection between this farewell visit and the first. He had removed his
dwelling in 1832 from its original position in the historic bay of
Rangihoua to a more suitable spot at Te Puna, on the other side of the
hill. His work had been greatly interrupted by a curious sabbatarian
sect which had arisen among his little flock; nor had the faithful man
any striking success to show; but he had held the fort amidst manifold
discouragements, and he had gained the respect of the people around.

At the departure of the patriarch from our shores, the feelings of his
converts reached their climax. From Kerikeri and from Waimate they came
in crowds to the Bay to bid him farewell, and the scene on the beach
resembled that at Miletus when the people of Ephesus "fell on Paul's
neck, and kissed him." A warship conveyed Marsden to Australia, and
during the voyage he spoke much of his lately-deceased wife, and of the
many friends who had preceded him to the eternal world. On a friend
remarking that the separation would not be for long, "God grant it," he
replied; and lifting his eyes to the bright moon, which laid a shining
pathway across the heaving waters, he exclaimed with intense feeling:

  Prepare me, Lord, for Thy right hand,
    Then come the joyful day!

That day indeed was not far distant, for he died some nine months later,
on May 12th, 1838, and was buried in his family vault in the cemetery
at Parramatta. Seldom, surely, has it been granted to anyone to see such
a rich result of his labours before his death. The New Zealand mission,
be it remembered, was only one of the fields of his activity: the
Tahitian mission of the London Missionary Society was almost equally
indebted to his care and generosity; while his own proper work among the
convicts of New South Wales was enough to try the most ardent faith.
Yet, in every field, he lived to see enormous difficulties overcome, and
a plentiful harvest gathered in. Next to his heroic faith must be placed
his almost boundless liberality. No one ever discovered the amount of
money he provided from his own private funds for the New Zealand work,
but it was known to be very great. As to his whole career we may quote
the words of Saunders, who would not be likely to show any favour: "He
was not a great preacher, nor a great writer, nor a great actor; but he
was a good man and wrought righteousness. His patience and courage were
unbounded; his unselfish purity was brilliant; his benevolence was
universal. He obtained no title, he acquired no landed estate, no
monument was erected to his memory, his bones rest not in New Zealand
soil; but the blessing of those who were ready to perish has come upon
him; and the proud and secure position which the Maori now holds in
civilised society is mainly due to the stedfast faith and trust in his
ultimate capability, which nothing could drive from the breast of Samuel
Marsden."

[Illustration: BISHOP SELWYN.]



CHAPTER VI.

"YEARS OF THE RIGHT HAND."

(1838-1840).

  The right hand of the Lord bringeth mighty things to pass.
    --_Psalms._


We now approach the climax of the missionary period. The plant which had
been rooted with so much difficulty, nursed with so much care, watered
with so many tears of disappointment, was now to break into sudden and
wonderful bloom.

The check caused by the Rotorua-Thames (or "bonnet") war was but of
short duration. Long before its close, Chapman was back at Rotorua, with
Morgan as his colleague. They built a new station on the island in the
lake (Mokoia), and here their families and their wardrobes were in
peace. Before long every village round the lake had its raupo chapel;
and Chapman himself pressed on southward to Lake Taupo, where the
effects of his labours will meet us later on.

In the same year (1838) Brown and Wilson re-occupied Tauranga, which
soon became a particularly powerful centre. Not only were the
catechetical classes large and enthusiastic, but the native teachers
itinerated through the villages of the district, and a party of fifteen
set off on a missionary tour to Taupo and Cook Strait. The history of
this bold undertaking is hard to discover, but local traditions seem to
show that these dimly-remembered pioneers must have descended the
Wanganui River, and that at least one must have penetrated as far south
as Otaki.

From Tauranga also an occasional visit was paid to Matamata, which was
not again to become the residence of a white missionary. But it had
Tamihana Waharoa with his model _pa_, and its graveyard contained the
grave of Tarore, "who, being dead, yet spake." Her father, Ngakuku, did
not indulge in useless grief, but in 1839 accompanied Wilson from
Tauranga along the Bay of Plenty to Opotiki near its eastern end, and
there they founded a station amid a people more savage than any yet
encountered. Yet even these accepted the new teaching with eagerness. A
curious evidence of this was given by a deputation which came one day to
Opotiki from a village 30 miles in the interior. The object of these
strangers was not blankets or powder, but simply to ask the white man
whether the words of the burial service might be read over the
unbaptised!

Outside the region of the "bonnet" war, changes also were in progress.
The tribes were moving toward the coast, and their teachers found it
wise to follow. The Puriri station was for this reason broken up, and
two new ones established on the Hauraki Gulf--Fairburn settling at
Maraetai, and Preece near the mouth of the Thames. Hamlin, too,
abandoned his post at Mangapouri, and sailed down the Waikato to its
mouth. Proceeding northwards to the Manukau Harbour, he found there the
Rev. R. Maunsell already established. They worked together for three
years; then Maunsell, leaving Hamlin at Manukau, opened a new station at
Waikato Heads. Maunsell was a Dublin graduate of great eloquence and
strong personality. He soon acquired a commanding influence over the
people of his district, and an examination held by him in 1839 rivalled
those of the Bay of Islands ten years before. Fifteen hundred people
were present at this gathering. A class of 450 were examined in the
Catechism in the open air, while 300 more advanced scholars inside the
schoolhouse displayed their proficiency in varied subjects, some of them
repeating correctly whole chapters out of the Epistles. At the close
came a baptismal service, when 100 Maoris were received into the fold of
Christ's Church; and afterwards a celebration of the Holy Communion,
when more than that number participated. The service was followed by a
feast, at which whole pigs were deftly carved and carefully apportioned,
with their share of corn and kumeras, to each tribe: "In a few moments
the whole vanished as if by magic. All was animation and cheerfulness,
and even those who had come four and five days' distance seemed to
forget their fatigue in the general excitement."

While the mission was thus spreading through the island in cheering
fashion, the older stations at the Bay were privileged to receive an
episcopal visit. The able and devoted Dr. Broughton had lately (1836)
been appointed Bishop of Australia, and had been requested by the C.M.S.
to extend his pastoral care, as far as possible, to the islands of New
Zealand. The mention of such a visit calls up imaginative pictures of
its probable course. Would there not have been intense expectation and
busy preparations beforehand? The Maoris would doubtless welcome their
august visitor with characteristic heartiness, and would come forward in
hundreds, if not in thousands, to receive the gift of Confirmation at
his hands. His journeys from one station to another would be like a
triumphal progress; there would have been feastings, gifts, and
rejoicings everywhere.

The actual facts were just the reverse. No one knew beforehand of his
lordship's intention. He arrived unexpectedly on Dec. 21, 1838, and at a
time when any sort of public welcome was well-nigh impossible. A violent
epidemic of influenza had just spread through the settlements, and
hardly a person was unaffected. Everyone was ill and weak. It was not
without a certain appropriateness that the first distinctively episcopal
acts performed upon our soil were those of the consecration of
burial-grounds at Paihia and at Kororareka. The bishop went inland to
Waimate, but the missionary in charge (R. Davis) could hardly, for
weakness, show his visitor round the village. To judge by his journals,
his thoughts were more taken up with his dying Maoris than with the
living prelate. At the confirmation held when the bishop returned to
Paihia (Jan. 5), only 44 Maoris were able to be presented, besides 20
white people--mostly missionaries' children. At the Hauraki station the
bishop found a mere handful able to receive the laying-on of hands.
Owing to the shortness of his visit and to the difficulty of
communication, he was unable to visit more than these three stations;
and he had left for Norfolk Island before many of the missionaries knew
of his arrival.

It must not be supposed, however, that this visit was in vain. The
leaders of the mission had long felt their isolation from the rest of
the world, and the new difficulties which the growth of a European
population in the Bay was beginning to bring forth. They received much
encouragement from the good bishop's counsel, and were placed in a
better position for dealing with the white men. The sick were cheered by
his sympathetic ministrations, and all classes united in expressing the
farewell hope that he would not forget them but would soon visit them
again.

This hope was destined not to be realised; but the bishop left behind
him a permanent addition to the mission staff in the person of a young
Oxford undergraduate, who had been driven by delicate health to leave
England and to undertake the long sea voyage to Australia. The bishop
had admitted him to the diaconate in Sydney, and now at Paihia ordained
him to the priesthood. Octavius Hadfield was still in a state of extreme
delicacy, but he resolved to dedicate whatever might remain to him of
life and strength to the service of Christ among the Maoris.

Neither bishop nor priest, however, nor yet catechist nor settler, was
to be the most signal agent in the extension of the work during these
wonderful "years of the right hand of the Most Highest." Their labours
were indeed richly blest, as the preceding pages have sufficiently
shown. But the humbler instruments whose work has now to be recorded
stand out in bolder relief, owing to the amazing contrast between the
insignificance of the means and the magnitude of the results achieved.

The east side of New Zealand was brought into contact with the mission
through the prevailing winds which blow from that quarter. In the year
1833 there arrived in the Bay of Islands a ship which, while lying
becalmed off the East Cape, had received on board a party of some dozen
Maoris from the shore. Before they could be landed, the wind had sprung
up, and thus they were carried into the territory of their enemies, who
immediately proceeded to allot them as slaves. But the wind was not an
altogether unkind one, for it had brought them within reach of Christian
influences. The missionaries rescued the men and sent them eastwards
again. Before they could land, however, they were again blown away by a
sudden gale, and once more found themselves at the Bay. Here they were
kept at Paihia for the winter, and in the summer of 1834 were at last
successfully restored to their friends. They were accompanied on this
occasion by Mr. William Williams, who found a warm welcome among the
kinsfolk of the returned refugees. He even marked out a spot in the
Waiapu valley for a future mission station. Nothing more, however, was
done for some years; the incident, though deeply interesting, was
well-nigh forgotten, and "it was hardly thought that any good results
would follow."

Neither might any good results have followed had the matter lain with
the twelve men who had passed through the adventures just described. Of
course, they spread a favourable report of their kind rescuers, and this
was not to be despised. But there was not a sufficiently definite
Christianity among them to qualify them to be teachers of their people.
The nine days' wonder of their deliverance would soon have given place
to the all-engrossing thoughts of war and vengeance.

But they did not come back alone. With them came some slaves who had
been carried to the Bay in earlier days by one of Hongi's raiding
parties, and had now been set free by their Christian masters. One of
these, Taumatakura, had attended school at Waimate, and though he had
shown little interest in religion, he had at least learned to read. This
man, on finding himself now among a people who were hungering for
knowledge, began to teach and to preach. He wrote out verses and hymns
on strips of paper, and these were cherished by his tribesmen with a
superstitious veneration. His reputation increased to such a degree that
when a military expedition was set on foot he was asked to accompany it.
The armament was a great one, for it consisted of all the warriors for
100 miles down the coast, and it was strengthened by the alliance of the
tribes of the Bay of Plenty. The object of the expedition was the
capture of a strong _pa_ near Cape Runaway--the promontory which juts
northwards into the ocean above East Cape. Taumatakura was by this time
sufficiently confident to be able to make conditions. He stipulated that
there must be no cannibalism nor any unnecessary destruction of canoes
and food. His conditions were accepted, and the advance was begun. In
the final assault upon the _pa_, what was the surprise of all the chiefs
to see the one-time slave actually leading the attack! Fearlessly he
rushed onward--gospel in one hand and musket in the other--amid a hail
of bullets. Neither he nor his book was hit; and when the citadel was
captured, Taumatakura was the hero of the day. Evidently his book was a
charm of power: his words must be obeyed. Not only were his stipulations
observed, but anything else he taught was now received with implicit
deference. He did not know much, but at least he proclaimed the sanctity
of the _Ra-tapu_ or weekly day of rest.

Such was the news which reached William Williams at Waimate in the
spring of 1837. "Why do you stay here," said the stranger, "while over
there at Waiapu they are all ready to do what you tell them?" Early in
the following year, accordingly, Messrs. W. Williams and Colenso went by
sea to Hicks Bay, and walked under the cliffs along the coast for 100
miles. Wherever a valley opened they found a large and populous village;
and everywhere the Sunday was observed, and there was an outcry for
books and teachers. In one place, indeed, the people kept _two_ sabbaths
each week. The field was ripe unto harvest. Later in the year, Henry
Williams took six native teachers to occupy the field; and finally, in
1840, his brother removed thither with his family, and settled at
Turanga in Poverty Bay. His labours were strikingly successful, and soon
there was a church and an overflowing congregation in every _pa_. Thus
wonderfully and unexpectedly began what was afterwards to become the
diocese of Waiapu.

More directly in the central line of advance, and certainly not less
romantic in its beginnings, was the extension of the faith to the shores
of Cook Strait.

Reference has already been made to the evangelising expedition from
Tauranga into this country. But before it could have reached its
destination, a still more humble agent had been at work, whose position,
like that of Taumatakura, was that of a liberated slave, and whose
story, like his, begins at the Bay of Islands.

It must have been in the year 1836, or somewhat earlier, that the little
cemetery at Paihia became the receptacle of the headless body of a Maori
who had been killed in a quarrel. With the body came a slave who was now
left without an owner. The missionaries took him into house and school,
and were pleased with his behaviour. Ripahau showed no signs, however,
of becoming a Christian, and after a time asked leave to join a fighting
party which was leaving the Bay for Rotorua. He seems to have become
known there to Mr. Chapman, but he soon disappeared, and for two years
nothing was heard of him. At last, Chapman received from him a letter
asking for books. The letter came from Cook Strait, and explained that
the people of that neighbourhood were eager to receive instruction.
Shortly afterwards two young chiefs from the same quarter presented
themselves at the Bay of Islands with a story which thrilled the hearers
with wonder and gratitude.

To understand its purport it is necessary to cast a backward glance over
the years since the early days of the mission, when the Ngapuhi were
procuring firearms from traders and missionaries. Hongi was not the only
man in those days who foresaw the power which the musket would give.
Rauparaha, the young chief of a small tribe living round the harbour of
Kawhia on the West Coast, realised that his Waikato neighbours must from
their geographical position acquire the precious weapons before his own
tribe could do so. The outlook was desperate, and the remedy must be of
an heroic nature.

Rauparaha travelled down the coast to Kapiti, and there saw a European
whaling-ship. Here then was another spot to which the white men
resorted, and from which the coveted firearms could be obtained. The
Maori at once made up his mind to remove his whole tribe thither, and
thus place them in as good a situation as that of the Ngapuhi at the Bay
of Islands. How the migration was effected--with what blending of
statecraft, heroism, treachery, and cruelty--is a subject which does not
come within the purview of a history of the Church. Suffice it to say
that, at the date to which our narrative has now arrived, Rauparaha was
securely settled in the island fastness of Kapiti, while his Ngatitoas
had their habitations on the mainland opposite. They had ravaged the
south of the island, as the Ngapuhi under Hongi had devastated the
north; and Rauparaha was the most powerful and influential personage in
New Zealand, except--Henry Williams. And now the two powers had met, for
the young men who had arrived at Paihia were none other than the son and
the nephew of Rauparaha, and the cause of their coming was due to the
forgotten slave Ripahau himself.

This seemingly insignificant person had reached Otaki in the new
territory of the Ngatitoas some three years before. There he had met
with Rauparaha's son, Tamihana, a young man who was sick at heart of his
father's violent ways. Fascinated by the slave's story of the peaceful
life of the missionaries at the Bay of Islands, he had compelled him to
teach his friends and himself to read. Ripahau had but a Prayer Book
with him, and it was hard to teach a class from one book. But he
remembered that a few more books had been brought from Rotorua by the
party with whom he travelled. These he procured, and among them there
was a much-damaged copy of the Gospel of St. Luke. This bore the name of
Ngakuku, and was in fact the very copy upon which little Tarore was
sleeping when she was murdered in the night! In order to study in quiet,
Tamihana and his cousin Te Whiwhi took Ripahau to the island and made
him teach them there. The two cousins had Tarore's gospel for their
lesson book. "We learnt," they said, "every day, every night. We sat at
night in the hut, all round the fire in the middle. Whiwhi had part of
the book, and I part. Sometimes we went to sleep upon the book, then
woke up and read again. After we had been there six months, we could
read a little, very slowly."

But they had learned something even better than the art of reading. They
had learned--and learned with the spirit--the subject-matter of the
book. They now took Ripahau with them to some villages on the mainland
to teach the people about the book: "These people believed, and they all
wanted the book. I told them I could not give them any part of it, but I
told Ripahau to write for them on paper, Our Father, &c. He wrote it for
them all, and they learnt it. Before, Ripahau had not believed, but now
his heart began to grow. We talked to him, and he believed."

The result of this marvellous conversion was the visit of the two
cousins to the Bay of Islands. They asked for a white teacher to come
and live among them. The call was an urgent one, and Henry Williams
volunteered to go himself. But his brethren and converts, fearing the
removal of his great influence, voted against the proposal, and there
was no other volunteer. The chiefs retired to their cabin in utter
despair: "Oh! dark, very dark, our hearts were." A fortnight they stayed
in their cabin, when a sailor announced that the missionary's boat was
approaching. Henry Williams called out from it, "Friends, do not be
angry with me any more; here is your missionary." It was the slight and
consumptive Hadfield. This young recruit had not been able to understand
the language of the visitors, but after they had gone he asked the
purport of their errand. "I will go with them," he exclaimed; "as well
die there as here." The older men were loth to let him make the venture,
but he would not be kept back. It was at length resolved that Henry
Williams should accompany him to the south, and help him to settle among
the Ngatitoas. "We were all very happy that day," wrote Tamihana; "our
hearts cried, we were very happy!"

This southward journey of Williams and Hadfield, which began on October
21st, 1839, was like that to the Thames six years before, in that it
inaugurated a great step forward in the work of the mission, and led the
missionaries into regions which they had only dimly known before. Yet
its fateful significance, both for New Zealand and for the individual
travellers, could hardly be even guessed at the time by the two men
themselves. To the one it was to bring life; to the other, troubles
almost worse than death.

After ten days' voyage down the eastern coast, the schooner which
conveyed Henry Williams, Hadfield, and their Maori retinue rounded Cape
Palliser; but, meeting there the full force of the west wind through the
straits, was unable to make direct for Kapiti, and took shelter in a
harbour which opened out on their starboard bow. "Very different from
what is represented in the map of Captain Cook," remarked Williams, thus
showing how little had hitherto been known about this magnificent inlet
of Port Nicholson. But once inside its capacious recesses, he found that
others had just discovered its value before him. Two Wesleyan
missionaries had been there during the year, and had left a native
teacher behind them; while a still more important visitor had arrived
even more lately in the person of Colonel Wakefield, advance agent for
the New Zealand Company, whose emigrant ships were every day expected.

Much to Williams' displeasure he learned that Wakefield was claiming
possession of the shores of the harbour--thus leaving to the Maori
inhabitants no place of their own for the future. This information came
from one of his old Paihia boys, Reihana, who had secured a passage with
the Wesleyan expedition, and was now engaged in teaching his own fellow
tribesmen. Reihana complained that he with others had opposed the sale
of their lands, but that the Europeans would take no account of their
rights, and insisted on having the whole.

Henry Williams was not opposed to colonisation if rightly undertaken,
but his blood began to boil at this story; nor did he feel happier when
he found that a savage quarrel had arisen between two parties of Maoris
over some of the land in question, and that during the last fortnight
many men had been killed. No protest could be made at the moment, as
Wakefield had left for the north; but, finding Reihana anxious to leave
a place where his property was thus in jeopardy, Williams bought of him
the land for a mission station. The Society at Home, however, decided
not to form a station in the place, and the section (which comprised
about 60 acres of what is now the heart of Wellington) remained in
Williams' hands. The Maoris would never allow it to be pegged out by
the Company's surveyors until Henry Williams himself, on his next visit,
presented all but one acre to the Company in consideration of their
undertaking to make reserves for the benefit of the natives. The one
acre he afterwards sold, and devoted the proceeds to the endowment of a
church at Pakaraka. This is the real history of a transaction which, by
frequent misrepresentation, has brought undeserved obloquy upon a
generous man.

After distributing Prayer Books amongst the _pas_ around the harbour,
the travellers made another attempt to continue their voyage. Again they
were blown back to the Port, and eventually decided to walk to their
destination overland, leaving the schooner to follow when the wind
should change. Hadfield was extremely unwell, but pluckily resolved to
follow his chief, and together they set off on the morning of Nov. 14
over the steep hills upon which the suburbs of Wellington now stand.

Four days of hard walking brought them to Waikanae. At many places on
the road the people came out to give them welcome, for the name of
Wiremu was familiar to all. At every place, too, he was urged to tell
them about religion, and at the _pa_ of Waikanae the people "kept me in
conversation till I could talk no more."

Next day a ceremonious visit was paid to Rauparaha in his island
fortress: "The old man told me that now he had seen my eyes and heard my
words, he would lay aside his evil ways and turn to the Book." How far
this change was sincere may be doubted; it seems to have been partly
caused by his fear of Col. Wakefield's ship, which was mistaken for a
man-of-war. At any rate the old warrior gave a warm welcome to the young
missionary, Hadfield, and insisted that he should live at Otaki under
his protection.

A meeting of a different character was that between Williams and his old
scholar, Ripahau. This man had married a daughter of Rangitaake, or
Wiremu Kingi, head chief of Waikanae, and had become a person of great
influence in the tribe. "He has taught many to read," writes Williams,
"and has instructed numbers, as far as he is able, in the truths of the
Gospel; so that many tribes, for some distance around, call themselves
Believers, keep the Lord's Day, assemble for worship, and use the
Liturgy of the Church of England. The schools also are numerous." A
fortnight later, just as he was about to leave the district, Williams
baptised this remarkable young teacher by the appropriate name of
Joseph, for of him too it might be said:

    But he had sent a man before them,
    Even Joseph, who was sold to be a bond-servant,
  That he might inform his princes after his will
    And teach his senators wisdom.

Unfortunately the princes, or chiefs, had not all learned wisdom. There
had been a war between Rauparaha's people and those of Waikanae over the
distribution of the goods given by Wakefield for the land at Port
Nicholson. When Williams arrived at Waikanae the traces of carnage lay
all around. Again, therefore, he was called to be a peace-maker. He
spent a week on a mission to Otaki, and returned to Waikanae with 300
armed and feathered warriors at his heels. But these men had put into
his hands full power to treat with the enemy. After much debate, Ripahau
was similarly commissioned by the other side; peace was soon concluded;
a war-dance gave relief to the excited feelings of the tribesmen; a
service occupied the evening; and the day was concluded with a quiet
meeting, in which the few native teachers of the district were prepared
to receive the Holy Communion, which was to be administered for the
first time in those regions on the Sunday morning which was now
approaching.

Early on that day the Maoris came round the missionaries' tent and began
their Matins worship. Ripahau had taught them hymns, and to these they
had themselves fitted "very agreeable" tunes. At 8 o'clock a great
service was held, with a congregation of 1,200 people. Then followed the
Holy Eucharist. School and evening service and conversation with anxious
enquirers at the tent door kept the missionary busy till late at night.

Three days later Henry Williams bade farewell to Hadfield, and started
off alone on a journey such as had never yet been attempted by a white
man in New Zealand. His schooner had not yet arrived, and he had
determined to travel overland to the Whanganui River, and thence through
the heart of the island to the Bay of Plenty. But when he reached the
Rangitikei he found more peace-making work to do, for he was met by a
fighting party from Taranaki who were bent on attacking the settlements
which he had just left. They carried gospels as well as fire-arms, but
this seemed to make them insolent instead of reasonable. Their leader
was an ignorant person who, on the strength of having once been at a
Wesleyan mission station, posed as a prophet and had invented a new
sacrament. Williams gave this man a severe rebuke, both for his
demeanour and for his heresy. So potent was the influence of "Wiremu"
that, after much debate, the northern army turned homewards, and the
Otaki Christians were left in peace.

On arrival at the Whanganui, great eagerness was everywhere displayed
for books and teachers. In a native canoe Henry Williams ascended this
noted stream, whose banks were then clothed in all their primeval
beauty. Not bush-clad precipices, however, attracted his attention so
much as the villages which nestled at their foot. In all of these he was
astonished to find Christian worship maintained, though no white teacher
had yet passed by that way. These _kaingas_ are all vanished now, and
their very names are well-nigh forgotten; but Pukehika (a few miles
below Pipiriki) afforded the traveller a memorable experience. At
daybreak on Christmas Eve he records that "_three bells for morning
prayers were heard from different hamlets in the neighbourhood._" On
reading this astonishing statement, one's thoughts fly at once to
Kinglake's well-known experience in the Arabian desert, when on a Sunday
morning he heard distinctly the bells of his village church at Marlen.
But there was no illusion here. The bells were chiefly musket barrels,
and they hung in actual raupo chapels built by Maori hands!

On leaving the river the expedition had before them a week's march to
Taupo. For three days this meant climbing steep mountains and sliding
down precipices, creeping along the trunks of fallen trees, or worming a
way underneath them. On the fourth morning the travellers emerged into
the open country at the foot of Mt. Ruapehu, and took their way across
the pumice plateau. Their food was now nearly exhausted, and it was in a
"tight-belted" condition that, on the last day but one of the old year,
they saw the great lake glittering before them. Villages clustered round
its shores, and in most of them there stood a chapel erected at the
instance of Chapman and his Rotorua teachers. Williams enjoyed the
feeling of being once more on the track of other missionaries; nor did
he despise the evidences of their care which met him from time to time
on his way--tea and sugar in one place and a horse in another--until he
at last reached Rotorua in a somewhat exhausted condition, and was
thankful to rest once more on the island, in Morgan's quiet abode.

A still more pleasant surprise awaited the dauntless traveller on his
further journey to Tauranga. While pushing his way through wet bush, he
suddenly met Mr. William Williams, who in the midst of his migration to
the east coast had been blown into Tauranga by contrary winds. On
entering the village the brothers held a meeting, at which it was
resolved to send a missionary to Whanganui without delay, both for the
sake of the earnest enquirers in that district, and to afford some
companionship to Hadfield in his lonely post at Otaki. The man chosen
for this duty was the Rev. J. Mason, who had lately arrived in the
country. Henry Williams arrived at his home on Jan. 18th, 1840, in time
to negotiate the Treaty of Waitangi, which will fall to be considered in
a different connection.

Twenty-five years had elapsed since Marsden had brought the tidings of
Christianity to New Zealand, and his settlers had begun in fear and
trembling to lay the foundation stones of the Church in this new land.
Now, there was hardly a district of the North Island into which the
knowledge of the truth had not penetrated. We have watched its progress
in north and east and south-west and centre. The Wesleyan missionaries
were working down the west coast. Only the south-east had not been
touched. Its population was small and had been greatly reduced by
Rauparaha, but the readiness of the people was great, if we may judge
from one of the most pathetic passages from the old Maori days. The
events relate to a time a little later than that of those already
described, but they must look back to the early days of Hadfield's
residence at Kapiti. The speaker is an old chief who died in the
Wairarapa district between Eketahuna and Pahiatua in 1850. The old man
thus described to his sons his search for the new light of which he had
heard:

"You well know that I have from time to time brought you much riches. I
used to bring you muskets, hatchets, and blankets, but I afterwards
heard of the new riches called Faith. I sought it; I went to Manawatu, a
long and dangerous journey, for we were surrounded by enemies. I saw
some natives who had heard of it, but they could not satisfy me. I
sought further, but in vain. I then heard of a white man, called
Hadfield, at Kapiti, and that with him was the spring where I could fill
my empty and dry calabash. I travelled to his place; but he was
gone--gone away ill. I returned to you, my children, dark-minded. Many
days passed by. The snows fell, they melted, they disappeared; the
tree-buds expanded; the paths of the forest were again passable to the
foot of the Maori. We heard of another white man who was going over
mountains, through forests and swamps, giving drink from his calabash to
the poor secluded natives, to the remnants of the tribes of the mighty,
of the renowned of former days, now dwelling by twos and threes among
the roots of the trees of ancient forests, and among the high reeds of
the brooks in the valleys. Yes, my grandchildren; your ancestors once
spread over the country, as did the quail and the kiwi, but now their
descendants are as the descendants of those birds, scarce, gone, dead.
Yes; we heard of that white man: we heard of his going over the snowy
mountains to Patea, up the East Coast, all over the rocks to Turakirae.
I sent four of my children to Mataikona to meet him. They saw his face;
you talked with him. You brought me a drop of water from his calabash.
You told me he would come to this far-off spot to see me. I rejoiced; I
disbelieved his coming; but I said, 'He may.' I built the chapel; we
waited, expecting. You slept at nights; I did not. He came; he came
forth from the long forests; he stood upon Te Hawera ground. I saw him;
I shook hands with him; we rubbed noses together. Yes; I saw a
missionary's face; I sat in his cloth house; I tasted his new food; I
heard him talk Maori. My heart bounded within me. I listened, I ate his
words. You slept at nights; I did not. I listened, and he told me about
God and His Son Jesus Christ, and of peace and reconciliation, and of a
Father's house beyond the stars: and now I, too, drank from his
calabash, and was refreshed. He gave me a book, too, as well as words. I
laid hold of the new riches for me and for you; and we have it now. My
children, I am old; my hair is white, the yellow leaf is falling from
the _tawai_ tree. I am departing; the sun is sinking behind the great
western hills; it will soon be night. But hear me: do you hold fast the
new riches--the great riches--the true riches. We have had plenty of sin
and pain and death; and we have been troubled by many--by our neighbours
and relatives; but we have the true riches: hold fast the true riches
that Karepa has sought for you!"

[Illustration: RUINS OF ST. THOMAS'S CHURCH, TAMAKI.]

How can we account for all this? Must we not say that these were indeed
the "_Years of the right hand of the Most High_"?



CHAPTER VII.

RETROSPECT.

(1814-1841).

  The native bent of the Maori mind caused the people, as they embraced
  Christianity, gradually to place themselves as a matter of course
  under the guidance of a sort of Christian theocracy. It was under the
  auspices of this mild missionary regime--which, if a government, was a
  very singular one, seeing that there were no laws, and an almost total
  absence of crime--that the first British Governor set foot on the
  shores of New Zealand.
    --_Judge Wilson._


Hardly had Henry Williams returned to Paihia from his great journey
through the heart of the island, when a warship arrived in the Bay,
bearing Captain William Hobson with a commission from Queen Victoria,
authorising him to annex the country to the British Crown. A not very
friendly historian (Saunders) has summed up the situation at this point
by saying that, on his arrival, Hobson fell into the hands of the
Reverend Henry Williams, and obligingly admits that he might have fallen
into worse ones. As a matter of fact, the captain could have done but
little had he not secured the co-operation of this influential
missionary. Rusden speaks no more than the truth when he declares that
"Henry Williams had but to raise his finger, and his _mana_ would have
weighed more with the Maoris than the devices of Colonel Wakefield or
the office of Hobson."

The first act of the new official was to gather the northern chiefs on
the lawn in front of the British Residency, on the other side of the
river from Paihia, and to lay before them the famous document known as
the Treaty of Waitangi. It is sometimes asserted that Henry Williams was
really the author of this treaty. That would seem to be an error, but he
may have been consulted in the drafting of the document; and there can
be no question but that it was his influence which induced the chiefs to
sign it. It was he who interpreted to the Maoris the provisions of the
treaty, and the speech in which Hobson commended it to their acceptance;
and it was he and the other missionaries who secured the signatures of
the chiefs in other parts of the island. Whatever may be thought of the
policy of this momentous document--securing as it did to the native race
the full possession of their lands and properties under the British
flag--it is a standing witness to the influence of the missionaries, and
to the trust which the Maoris had come to place in their integrity and
benevolence of purpose.

The one place where the treaty was opposed was the new English
settlement of Wellington, where the settlers stigmatised it as "a device
to amuse the savages," and proceeded to set up a rival government of
their own. Henry Williams went once more therefore to Port Nicholson,
and succeeded in getting the treaty signed by the chiefs of that place.
Thus supported, Hobson now felt himself strong enough to proclaim the
Queen's sovereignty over the country, and himself became its first
Governor. He had no military force to depend upon, and he ruled the
country through the missionaries. His tenure of office was embittered by
the constant opposition of the Company at Wellington, as well as by the
difficulties natural to such a position; and he was harassed into his
grave within two years of his arrival. But this period may be looked
upon as the climax of missionary influence in New Zealand. After 1842,
mission work went on extending, but the old workers no longer occupied
the forefront of the stage.

Before they retire into the background to make room for other figures,
it will be well therefore to cast a glance over their work and its
methods, their characters and their example. The position which they
held was in many ways unique, and though their age lies not so far
behind us in point of time, it really belongs to an order of things
quite different from our own.

The first point of contrast with our present somewhat overgoverned
society is the absence of authority. The missionaries and settlers were
sent out to a wild country to do the best they could. The bishops of the
Church in England did not claim, nor believe that they possessed, any
jurisdiction over them. The direction of the mission lay with the
Committee of the C.M.S., but unless it sent out a sentence of dismissal,
what could such a distant body do? If it sent out instructions to New
Zealand, no answer could be expected for a whole year, during which time
circumstances might have altogether changed. Short of actual dismissal,
its power of discipline was but slight. Much of its power must of
necessity be delegated to Marsden in Australia, but Marsden's authority
was limited in the same way, though not quite to the same extent. He
could not visit the mission often, nor could he secure that his
instructions should be obeyed. As a matter of fact they were often not
obeyed. "I know nothing I can say will have any influence upon their
minds," he once wrote in despair; "they have followed their own way too
long, and despise all the orders that have been given them by their
superiors." This censure applied to certain individuals among the first
settlers, and when one reads the letters and journals of these same men,
one cannot help feeling some sympathy with them in their position.
Possibly Marsden, with his exceptional powers, expected rather much of
average human nature. But the point is that the position of an early
missionary was an independent one. There was no civil government at all,
and the instructions from ecclesiastical superiors were necessarily
infrequent, often lacking in knowledge, never quite up to date, and
backed by no compelling force except the threat of "disconnection" from
the Society.

Under such circumstances everything depended on the personalities of the
men themselves. Those who came before 1823 were on the whole
disappointing. Marsden frequently compared them to the twelve spies who
all failed, excepting Caleb and Joshua. Unfortunately he never lets us
know who his "Caleb" and his "Joshua" were. But one of them can hardly
have been other than the young schoolmaster, Francis Hall, whose letters
reveal a singularly earnest and beautiful spirit. Even he, however,
admits the demoralising influence of the surrounding paganism--an
influence which none wholly escaped, and before which some actually
succumbed. "I feel in myself," quaintly writes another, "a great want of
that spirituality of mind which New Zealand is so very unfavourable for;
because of the continual scenes of evil that there is before our eyes,
and for want of Christian society. So that you must excuse my barrenness
of writing, and give me all the Christian advice you can."

The most interesting personality among these first settlers was Kendall.
Wayward and erring, passionate and ungovernable as he was, a close study
of his letters shows a depth of sin and penitence, together with a
breadth and boldness of philosophical speculation, which fascinates the
reader. Alone among the missionaries he seems to have tried to approach
the Maori from his own side, and to enter the inmost recesses of his
thought: "I am now, after a long, anxious, and painful study, arriving
at the very foundation and groundwork of the Cannibalism and
Superstitions of these Islanders. All their notions are metaphysical,
and I have been so poisoned with the apparent sublimity of their ideas,
that I have been almost completely turned from a Christian to a
heathen." Like the ancient Gnostics, Kendall tried to combine
Christianity with a sublimated version of pagan superstitions; and if
moral restrictions stood in the way, he cast them aside. "I was
reduced," he says, "to a state so dreadful that I had given myself
entirely up, and was utterly regardless of what would become both of
body and soul."

The details of his strange career cannot, of course, be given here. He
has been represented as an utter hypocrite, and evidence is not wanting
to give colour to the charge. But another and more favourable view is
not only possible: it is forced upon anyone who studies his
self-revelation through his letters. He seems to have hoped that his
ordination would have given him moral strength and stability, but he had
to admit that he had never been so strongly tempted to sin, so unable to
resist it, or so ingloriously foiled, as since his return from England.
Marsden's sharp exercise of discipline, though it elicited outbursts of
passion, seems to have had a healing effect. "Blessed be God," he
writes, "who has certainly undertaken for me. His sharp rebuke has laid
me low; yet why should I repine, since He has inclined me to seek His
face again?" Upon his expulsion from the mission, he retired to a house
he had built at "Pater Noster Valley," and after a few months left the
country. His great services in reducing the Maori language to written
form have hardly been sufficiently recognised. Marsden, like the other
settlers, could never adapt himself to the Italian vowel sounds, and at
his request Kendall wrote out a new vocabulary on a different system;
but he soon found it unsatisfactory, and returned to the principles
which he had worked out with Professor Lee. For the rest of his life--in
South America and in Australia--he still tried to perfect his Maori
Grammar. But the tragedy of his life outweighs the value of his
philological efforts. If ever a New Zealand Goethe should arise, he may
find the materials for his Faust in the history of Thomas Kendall.

From the date of the new beginning of the mission in 1823, its agents
were, for the most part, men of a superior type. Yate, indeed, one of
the ablest amongst them, was accused on a charge of which he never
could, or perhaps _would_, clear himself. He was accordingly
"disconnected" by the Society, but a certain doubt hangs over the issue;
and his after life was spent in useful and honourable service as
chaplain to the seamen at Dover. The rest of the new workers did
excellent service for the mission, and most of them lived to an old age
in the country. Remarkable for their linguistic capacity stand out
William Williams, who translated the New Testament; and Robert Maunsell,
who followed with the Old. This remarkable man took all possible pains
to gather the correct idioms for his task--sometimes by engaging the
Maoris in argument, sometimes by watching them at their sports. The
passion for accuracy was strong in him to extreme old age, and even on
his death-bed he interrupted the ministrations of his parish priest with
the startling question, "Don't you know that that is a mistranslation?"

Apart from translation work, the missionaries had little inclination or
ability for literary pursuits. Some of them (e.g., W. Williams, Yate,
and Colenso) took an interest in the plants and animals of their adopted
country, but for the most part the missionary was a man of one book, and
that book was the Bible. Life was too serious a thing to allow of
attention to the literary graces. The place where his lot was cast was
in a special sense the realm of Satan. The evidences of demonic activity
lay all around. On the one hand were the sickening scenes of slaughter
and cannibalism; on the other were the evil lives of sailors and traders
of his own race. Now and then the great Enemy would draw nearer still,
and one of his own comrades would fall a prey. His own religion was of a
somewhat austere type. His calendar was unmarked by fast or festival; he
had few opportunities of participating in a joyous Eucharist; there was
no colour in his raupo chapel, nor variety in his manner of worship.

The home life of the missionary doubtless often presented a picture of
domestic happiness. But there were no luxuries. If he wished to vary the
daily routine of pork and potatoes, he must try to obtain some fish
or native game. Failing these, he had only his own garden and
poultry-yard to look to. Soldiers' rations of coarse groceries were
served out from the Society's stores, but everything else must be bought
out of his slender income--£50 if a married man (unordained), or £30 if
a bachelor. Often in the earlier days, while the Maoris were still
unfriendly, even pork and potatoes were not to be had. More than once
Henry Williams and his family were brought to the verge of starvation.

[Illustration: OLD CHURCH AT RUSSELL (Built in 1838).]

In spite of these and other privations, the health of the missionaries
was good and their families were large. No death occurred among them
until 1837, when Mrs. R. Davis was called to her rest. Dangers abounded
on every hand, yet accidents were rare. Mr. and Mrs. Charles Davis were
lost at sea; Marsden was wrecked on the Brampton reef, but escaped
unhurt with all his party. Henry Williams passed through a terrible
experience when returning from Tauranga in 1832. For two days his little
vessel had been enveloped in driving rain and had been blown quite out
of her course, when the missionary, who had been praying through the
whole night, seeing at daybreak a rock immediately ahead, fell back upon
his old nautical skill, seized the tiller in his own hands, and just
succeeded in saving the craft from destruction.

It was this imminent peril that raised in the mind of Henry Williams the
question of how to make provision for his numerous family in case of his
death. Like most of his colleagues, he had sons growing to manhood, and
was anxious to do his duty by them. He could have sent them to England,
but this would have meant a life-long separation between parents and
children; to Sydney, but this would involve their exposure to the
temptations of a convict settlement. He therefore decided to buy some
land near to Paihia, and on this to settle his sons. The Maoris were
pleased to sell him the land, and the Home Committee approved of the
scheme. Several of the other missionaries did likewise. The plan seems a
reasonable one, and it received the approbation of Bishop Broughton, on
the condition that the lands so obtained should be strictly devoted to
the use of the children, and not to that of their parents. But it has
brought upon the missionary body, and upon Henry Williams in particular,
the reproach of land-speculating--a reproach which is still reiterated
by modern historians such as Saunders and Collier. Fortunately, an
incident occurred at the close of our period which is enough to furnish
a decisive test, at least in the case of Henry Williams.

One of the first acts of Governor Hobson was to seek for a site for the
capital of the new Colony. Wellington was vetoed by the Home Government,
and the only other European town was Kororareka in the Bay of Islands.
In this place or its neighbourhood the governor would doubtless have
fixed his headquarters, had it not been for Henry Williams. This
sagacious man had long noted the magnificent possibilities of the
Waitemata Harbour, and on being asked his advice he took the governor to
the spot. Hobson at once saw the value of the position, and selected the
place where the city of Auckland was soon to rise. But before he could
buy the land from its Maori possessors, he was disabled by a stroke of
illness, and returned invalided to find nursing and medical attention at
the mission station of Waimate. During the period of his convalescence
he fixed his abode at Russell--a house just opposite to Paihia--and the
Auckland scheme was left in abeyance. Speculators were busy about other
suggested localities in the Bay of Islands, but the real site was known
only to Henry Williams and to the governor himself.

What a chance was here for a speculator! Never, perhaps, before or
since, has such an opportunity occurred. Williams, with his unrivalled
influence over the Maoris, might have bought up large tracts of land
near the new site. If the charges against him are true, this is what he
would have done. As a matter of fact, _he never acquired a single acre
of land in that district_. He suffered the seat of government to be
removed a hundred miles away from his own doors to a place where he did
not possess, or try to possess, a single foot. This fact should surely
set at rest for ever the question of the disinterestedness of Henry
Williams.

Land-buying was not the only fault of which the missionaries were
accused. An English artist, Earle, visited New Zealand in 1827, and on
his return published an account of his travels, in which he accused the
church clergy of churlishness and inhospitality. Yet these same men were
the ones who came to his assistance when his house was burned, and
supplied all his wants to the full. This fact Mr. Earle does not
mention, and has not a favourable word to say on behalf of those who had
befriended him.

A very different visitor arrived some eight years later in the
research-vessel _Beagle_. This was Charles Darwin, whose name had not
yet achieved renown, but who was already distinguished for that
philosophical temperament and keen observation which make his judgment
to be of exceptional value. He speaks of "the gentlemanlike, useful, and
upright characters" of the missionaries; expresses his admiration of the
civilised appearance of Waimate; and finds in the results thus achieved
the best ground for hope for the future of the country. He had evidently
been previously impressed by Earle's denunciations, and was even
surprised to see one of the missionaries' sons playing cricket with the
Maori scholars. The mention of this little incident was doubtless
intended to soften the impression of extreme austerity, and is not
without its value to this end. But it does not go very far to modify the
picture of old-fashioned gravity and severity. In modern times the
missionaries would have been playing in the game themselves.

On the whole, the reports which reached the mother country were
favourable, and caused great rejoicing among the friends of the mission
staff. But there was one doubt which agitated the minds of a certain
circle of English society, and that was as to the _churchmanship_ of the
New Zealand mission. Its agents were good men, and had achieved
astonishing success; but had they kept up the distinctive tone and
system of the mother Church? Were they distinguishable from the
Methodists by whose side they laboured? No treatment of the subject can
be considered complete which omits this feature of the situation.

Undoubtedly there was some justification for the fears entertained in
the Home land. Marsden himself had been born and brought up in a
Methodist family. From this, as a young man, he had passed without sense
of break or violent change into a church school, and thence to
Cambridge, where he was associated with the Evangelical leaders, who
emphasised the individual rather than the corporate aspect of the
Church's teaching. We have seen that in 1819 he sent over a Methodist
preacher to report upon and to stimulate his nagging workers. He was not
in favour of the Methodists sending a mission of their own to New
Zealand, but when in 1822 his friend Mr. Leigh determined to settle in
the country, Marsden put no obstacles in his way. Not only so, but in
1823 Marsden himself brought over Leigh's colleagues, Hobbs and Turner,
who established their station at Whangaroa, after consultation with the
settlers at the Bay of Islands. The stations were not far apart, and
constant brotherly intercourse was maintained between the occupants.
When the Wesleyans fled from their homes in the turmoil of 1827, it was
to Kerikeri and Paihia that they betook themselves in the first place,
and it was Marsden's parsonage at Parramatta that sheltered them
afterwards. It was by Marsden's advice that they settled at Hokianga on
their return, and they always looked forward to his visits as eagerly as
did their brethren at the Bay of Islands. He himself rejoiced to
receive them to the Holy Communion; their converts were admitted to the
same holy ordinance at Waimate and Paihia; the missionaries preached
without hesitation in one another's pulpits. So anxious were the leaders
on both sides to spare the Maoris the spectacle of Christian disunion,
and to emphasise the fact that they baptised not in their own name but
in that of their common Master, that on the occasion of the reception
into the fold of the great chief Waka Nene and his brother, Patuone,
they arranged that Patuone, who belonged to the Methodists, should be
baptised by the church clergy, while Waka, who was an adherent of the
church mission, should receive the sacred ordinance at the hands of the
Wesleyans.

Highly irregular! some will exclaim. But there are important
considerations which must be kept in mind. In the first place, the
unhappy separation between the Methodist body and the historic Church
had not then assumed the hard and fast character which it bears to-day.
The followers of Wesley were still in fairly close touch with Wesley's
mother Church; they still occupied, to a large extent, the position of a
voluntary order within the established framework. They used the Book of
Common Prayer at their services, and taught the Church Catechism to
their children. And in New Zealand they looked up to Marsden as their
apostle, and were guided in their operations by his disinterested
advice. Nor should it be forgotten that the agents of the C.M.S. were
mostly laymen. Setting aside Hadfield, Mason, and Burrows, who all
appeared upon the scene near the close of our period, there were but
four ordained clergy during the years of co-operation between the two
societies, viz., Brown and Maunsell and the brothers Williams. Nor did
the "historic episcopate" present any obstacle to intercommunion. No
bishop was seen in the land until the end of 1838, and then his stay was
but short. There was accordingly no question as to the necessity of
confirmation as a qualification for communion. Confirmation simply
could not be had. Candidates were admitted to the Eucharist after long
and careful probation. Bishop Broughton, who was a High Churchman and a
disciplinarian, found that his misgivings as to the churchmanship of the
mission were unfounded. A few things were irregular, as of course they
were likely to be in an isolated community which had been cut off from
the rest of the world for a quarter of a century, but at the end of his
visit the bishop could express his conviction that everything would be
easily set right by a bishop residing on the spot.

On the whole, the relations between the two bodies seem to have been
marked by true wisdom as well as by Christian sympathy. But the harmony
was not perfect. When the Wesleyan missionaries transferred their
operations from Whangaroa on the east coast to Hokianga on the west,
they seem to have taken it for granted that the whole of the west coast
was to be reserved for them, while the east was to be the sphere of the
Church. But the physical features of the island were opposed to such an
arrangement. Nearly all the rivers from the interior run westwards, and
the missionaries in following the movements of their people sometimes
found themselves by the western sea. The first instance of this tendency
was in the Waikato district, where, as we have seen, Hamlin and Maunsell
were drawn to the Manukau Harbour and the Waikato Heads. The result was
a confusion of operations. The Wesleyans had established stations
further to the south on the Kawhia and Raglan harbours, and thus barred
the operations of Maunsell in this direction. Much correspondence ensued
with the Home authorities, and for a time the Wesleyans withdrew from
their posts. Eventually, however, a treaty was signed at Mangungu in
1837 by Henry Williams on the one hand, and the Rev. N. Turner on the
other. By this agreement the harbours of Raglan and Kawhia, with the
hinterland as far eastwards as the Waikato and Waipa rivers, were
definitively included within the Wesleyan sphere of influence. Nothing
was said about the coast to the southward, and there was nothing
whatever to prevent the settlement of Hadfield at Waikanae and Otaki in
1839, nor that of Mason at Wanganui in 1840. The idea, however, of "the
West Coast for the Wesleyans" still survived in some minds, and there
were those who resented the settlement of Hadfield and Mason on "their"
coast as an unfriendly act. These two excellent missionaries were also
violently attacked by one of the younger Wesleyans in Taranaki,
apparently through ignorance of the Church's position. The ultimate
settlement of the boundaries was reached by tacitly recognising all the
west coast north of Wanganui (excepting of course Maunsell's district)
as lying in the Methodist sphere, and all south of Wanganui as included
in that of the Church.

These differences in the south-west of the island hardly disturbed the
comity which prevailed in the north. A more serious trouble, however,
arose in this region when a Roman Catholic mission appeared there in
1838. In that year a French bishop and a band of priests landed at
Hokianga, and afterwards moved to Kororareka, right in the centre of the
Bay of Islands. As in other parts of the world, so here, the Romanists
passed over the unoccupied territory and planted themselves in the midst
of occupied ground, where they proceeded to upset the congregations of
the older workers. For a time they drew away many of the converts to
their side. But the Maoris were shrewd men, and several of them by this
time knew their New Testament by heart. When the Roman teachers
condemned the English missionaries for having wives and children, the
Maoris were ready with an effective answer from the example of St.
Peter, the married apostle. They held their own in argument, and
eventually drew back most of their brethren to the Church of the earlier
instructors who had borne the burden and heat of the day, and proved
their faith by their sufferings and their works.

What those works and sufferings were has already been partly described
in the course of this narrative. But there is one passage in the
literature of the period which is too graphic to omit. It relates to the
adventures of two of the lesser characters among the missionaries, and
it illustrates both the hardships which they sometimes underwent and
also the nature of the Maori mind.

It was in 1835 that Wilson and Fairburn heard of the dangerous position
of a party of women and children belonging to the Waikato tribe. They
were encamped on a stream called Maramarua, and a strong _taua_, or
fighting party, was preparing to set off from the mouth of the river
Thames, with the object of cutting off the retreat of these unsuspecting
people. The two missionaries determined to baulk this scheme, and by
rowing all night succeeded in getting ahead of the pursuers. Next day
they had a toilsome walk of many hours. The _taua_ was on their track,
the way was longer than they expected, and only by a few seconds did
they at last succeed in giving warning to the Waikatos, and thus saving
their lives. But now the baulked hunters had to be reckoned with.
Respect for the white man kept them from actual violence, but as night
came on the situation was a decidedly difficult one. Wilson's journal
continues thus:

"It was now nearly dark, the rain and wind increasing, and the only
shelter was the long, narrow shed, partly finished--half of the roof
still uncovered. This hovel was about 18 feet long, 9 wide, and 7 feet
in height. The natives, to make up for the rain which came through in
every direction, lit two fires with green wood, near each end of the
house, which filled it with smoke. Into this the _taua_, about thirty
men, entered, and began to take off their wet garments and crouch round
the fires; and into this pleasant abode for the night we, too, with our
four natives, had to creep: it was either this or remain outside in a
winter easterly gale. After a time we attempted to dry some of our
clothes by one of the fires, but the smoke was so intolerable, and
the heat of the place so great, notwithstanding it was only half roofed,
that we were obliged to lie down with our faces nearly touching the
earth. We remained in silence a long time, perhaps two or three hours,
not a word being addressed to us, either by the chief, or his followers;
this by no means a good omen in native etiquette and custom. We had
brought no provisions with us, supposing Maramarua to be nearer to the
coast; and after long waiting to see the mind of the _taua_ and how
things would be, we at last were about to lie down to try to sleep, to
forget our hunger, lodging, and society. Now, it is an established
custom in New Zealand never to begin or end the day without prayer, and
though in this wretched predicament, Mr. Fairburn proposed that we
should thus close the day. The armed men were sitting moodily by the
fires, when we signified our wish to our people, who were all
Christians. This night's service will never be forgotten by me; it was
commenced by singing the sixth native hymn, the first words of which
are:

  Homai e Ihu he ngakau, kia rongo atu ai,
  Ki tau tino aroha nui, i whakakitia mai.

[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL, NELSON.]

"The hymn--an invocation to Christ for the Holy Spirit's aid to
regenerate the natural heart, and impress it with love to God--I had
often heard and sung; but never before had it come home to me with such
reality, or sounded with such sweetness and power, as in _this_ solemn
appeal to the Most High.... We then prayed for this dark world, its
sorrowing and erring children, that the God of mercy would be graciously
pleased to bring them to a knowledge of himself; and after thanks for
the mercies of the day, we commended ourselves to God. Our simple
service over, we said no more. For a time all remained quiet; none
seemed willing to interrupt the silence in this strange place and on
this still stranger occasion; nothing was heard but the storm, which
appeared to be tearing the remainder of the roof from the shed, and the
rain rattling against the _raupo_. The _taua_ seemed as if struck by
the fabled wand of some mighty magician! Their former reserve and low
whispering ceased; and after a while they began to talk quietly to each
other, and shortly afterwards they spoke to ourselves and to our
natives. The gloom had passed away, their countenances became altered;
and they now began to prepare some refreshments. Each of the _taua_ had
carried at his back a small flax basket of potatoes, containing some
three or four handfuls. Of this slender stock they passed along (for
there was no moving for want of room) a liberal share for ourselves and
our natives. After this the pig was cut up and roasted; but, faint and
hungry as I was, it was nearly impossible to eat it. And now all
restraint was thrown off, and the Maoris conversed freely and
pleasantly. So the night wore on, better than it had begun. At last,
cold and weary, overpowered by the smoke, I fell asleep on a bundle of
bullrushes; and when I awoke, I found that I had been sleeping
unconsciously on one of the men's heads."

Incidents such as this did not, of course, happen every day; but this
one is typical in that it shows the _religious_ character of the Maori.
Here is a war-party who start out with the object of shooting down a
number of unsuspecting people. They come back talking in quite friendly
fashion with the men who had baulked them of their prey. What had worked
the change? Simply the singing of a hymn. Where could we find stronger
evidence of a disposition naturally religious, or a more striking
instance of the divine guardianship?

In trying to trace the causes of the wonderful spread of Christianity
among this ferocious people, it is natural to think first of the
_combination_ of benefits which the missionaries were able to bring.
They stood for all the knowledge and civilisation of the outside world,
as well as for the message of a world to come. They had no telephones,
no motor cars, nor even matches; but they brought tools of iron and of
steel, they had strange animals and plants, they used glass and china
and wool and cotton, and above all they learned from books. Such marks
of power could not fail to tell upon a shrewd people like the Maoris.
The most intelligent of the chiefs, without at all understanding the
truths of Christianity, were at once attracted by these signs of
mechanical and intellectual superiority. We have seen how much the
mission was indebted to the three great generals of New Zealand--Hongi
in the north, Waharoa in the centre, and Rauparaha in the south--for the
main steps of its advance. It might seem at first as though the
explanation of Maori Christianity were a fairly simple matter.

Yet such a conclusion would be very far removed from the truth.
Undoubtedly the prestige of the white man's civilisation gave a valuable
leverage at first, as in the notable case of Ruatara. Undoubtedly also,
many of the common people were simply swept along by the current when
once it grew strong enough to make itself felt. But the earliest real
converts were old men, delicate girls, consumptive lads, and wretched
slaves, whose hearts were caught not by axes and blankets, but by the
message of a Father's love and of a home beyond the stars. The Maori was
a religious being, and when his old faith failed him in the hour of
need, he turned to the new gospel of certitude and hope. Nobler spirits
among the race were drawn also by the social side of the new teaching;
they saw in it a prospect of ridding the land of desolating wars; but in
each case it was the true power of Christianity that operated, not the
adventitious blessings which it brought in its train.

Very interesting, as evidences of the heartfelt piety of the early
converts, are the letters which many of them wrote to Yate on the eve of
his journey to England. There is surely nothing of a merely conventional
goodness about such language as this: "I have this day, and many days,
kneeled down, and my mouth has whispered and has said loud prayers; but
I wish to know, and am saying within me, if I have prayed with my
heart. Say you, if I have prayed to God with my heart, should I say No,
and not do His bidding, as the Bible says we must and tells us how? And
should I flutter about here like a bird without wings, or like a beast
without legs, or like a fish whose tail and fins a native man has cut
off, if I had love in my heart towards God? Oh! I wish that I was not
all lip and mouth in my prayers to God. I am thinking that I may be
likened to stagnant water, that is not good, that nobody drinks, and
that does not run down in brooks, upon the banks of which kumara and
trees grow. My heart is all rock, all rock, and no good thing will grow
upon it. The lizard and the snail run over the rocks, and all evil runs
over my heart."

The anxious and self-accusing spirit which appears in this passage
deepens as the soul passes under the awe of the sacramental presence.
"My Teacher," writes another, "I have been many moons thinking about the
holy feast which Jesus Christ gave to His disciples, and told everybody
to eat it in remembrance of Him. It is not a natives' feast; for in New
Zealand everybody eats as much as he is able, and as fast as he is able;
but this is a feast of belief. If my body were hungry, I should not be
satisfied with a piece like a crumb, nor with a drop that will go in a
cockle shell; but my soul is satisfied, my heart is satisfied, though it
be a crumb and a drop. The thoughts within me yesterday were perhaps
right, and perhaps wrong. I said to myself, I am going to eat and to
drink at a table placed before us by the Great Chief of the world. I
must be very good, and must make myself good within; or, when He sees
me, He will show that He is angry. And then I thought, I will not think
anything that is not right, nor do anything that is not straight to-day;
and then, God will see that my heart is becoming good. But, Mr. Yate,
perhaps you will, and perhaps you will not, believe it: I thought no
good thoughts, and I did no good works all day; and yet I was still, and
not angry with myself, no, not at all. Now, my Teacher, you say what I
am to do, before the next day of the Lord's Supper. I think I must pray
to God for a new heart, and for His Holy Spirit."

This honest confession agrees with the observations of many outside
observers of the change wrought in the Maoris by their new religion. Not
all received the "new heart." Indeed, to judge from the accounts of men
like Wakefield and Fox, the old heart was hardly touched by the new
doctrines. The Christian Maoris were blamed for covetousness and
insolence, for dishonesty and lying. "Give me the good old Maori who has
never been under missionary influence," was the feeling of many of the
colonists. It was the same complaint as is heard in every mission field.
But calmer and more unprejudiced observers give a different verdict. The
Bishop of Australia reported: "In speaking of the character of the
converted natives, I express most unequivocally my persuasion that it
has been improved, in comparison with the original disposition, by their
acquaintance with the truths of the Gospel. Their haughty self-will,
their rapacity, furiousness, and sanguinary inclination have been
softened--I may even say, eradicated; and their superstitious opinions
have given place, in many instances, to a correct apprehension of the
spiritual tendencies of the Gospel. Their chief remaining vices appeared
to me to be indolence, duplicity, and covetousness."

In mentioning these three prevailing vices, the bishop lays his finger
upon faults which the lover of the Maori has still to deplore. His
tendency to indolence shows that Marsden's insistence on industrial
training was sound in theory, though not easy to carry out in practice.
Highly endowed as the Maori was in many respects, he found it hard to
copy the white man in his regular and even life of toil. The Maori was
in fact the Greek of the south. Intellectually he was brilliant, and his
memory was nothing short of marvellous. Somewhat later than our period,
an English surveyor on the west coast of the South Island was disturbed
in his camp by a party of Maoris who had come from Ahaura in the valley
of the upper Grey. They had never seen a white man before, but they had
picked up some knowledge from other Maoris who had come overland from
Port Cooper. During the night, "they commenced the recital of the
morning service; before morning they had repeated the Litany four times,
the whole version of the Psalms, three or four creeds, and a marriage
service, and then the whole morning service again."[4] Men who could do
this might surely be expected to be equal to anything. Altogether, the
unfolding of the Maori nature at this time was such as to arouse the
highest hopes for his future greatness. To the friends of the mission in
England it seemed as though the angels' songs over a repentant nation
could be almost heard. Their orators, like Hugh Stowell, indulged in
rhapsodies over the isle "now lovely in grace as she is beauteous in
nature"; and even a philosophic thinker like Julius Hare could give it
as his deliberate opinion that, for many centuries to come, historians
would look back to the establishment of a Christian empire in New
Zealand as the greatest achievement of the first part of the nineteenth
century.

  [4] This account is taken from the _Nelson Church Messenger_, of some
  years ago. Bishop Williams thinks the surveyor must have been misled
  to some extent.



Second Period.



CHAPTER VIII.

THE BEGINNINGS OF THE NEW ORDER.

(1839-1842).

  Replenish the earth, and subdue it.
    --_Genesis._


The missionaries had worked wonders in New Zealand, but the very success
of their work proved to be its undoing. Now that the islands were safe
and quiet, they attracted a rush of white settlers who were eager for
land and gain. Instead of whalers and flax traders, whose settlements
were only temporary, there appeared farmers and artisans who had fled
from the misery of the mother country to found for themselves permanent
homes in the "Britain of the South."

Many of the immigrants came singly from Australia, but from the year
1839 the New Zealand Company sent thousands of settlers in more or less
organised fashion to the country on either side of Cook Strait, to
Wellington, Nelson, and New Plymouth. This company was founded by the
celebrated Edward Gibbon Wakefield, a man who had read and thought much
upon the subject of colonisation. His views reflected fairly the public
sentiment of the day. The colonists should be grouped in communities for
mutual help and safety; they should have churches and clergy and as much
religion as sensible men required at home; the rights of the
dark-skinned inhabitants of the soil should not be altogether ignored,
but neither should they be allowed to stand in the way of progress and
expansion. The world was made for the Englishman: if the Maori came
between them, so much the worse for him.

Such projects might well alarm the friends of the Maori, both in England
and in New Zealand. They could not blind themselves to the fact that
the coming of the white man had almost everywhere led to the
disappearance of the coloured races from the earth. The influential
friends of the Church Missionary Society accordingly opposed the New
Zealand Company's plans in parliament, and prevented it from obtaining
government recognition. Its emigrants went forth from their native land
against the wishes of the authorities, and they naturally carried with
them a prejudice against the cause of missions. On their arrival they
were received by the missionaries with mixed feelings. Natural instinct
led them to welcome the sight of men of their own race, but their minds
misgave them when they thought of the effect which would be produced
upon their converts. The Maoris were not yet grounded and settled in the
faith: they looked up to their spiritual teachers for guidance in all
the matters of life. Their faith was that of children, and for the time
their safety lay in their child-like submissiveness to their teachers.
How long would this happy state continue, if anything should dispel the
veneration in which the missionary had hitherto been held?

The coming of white men had so far brought little but trouble.
Kororareka was the one European settlement before the founding of
Wellington, and Kororareka was looked upon as a sink of iniquity. A
church had been built there by the missionaries, but some of the
townspeople had approached Bishop Broughton with a petition that he
would appoint someone other than a missionary to officiate within it. At
Port Nicholson we have seen how Henry Williams had been roused by the
high-handed proceedings of Colonel Wakefield. Hadfield had indeed won
the respect of the colonists by his high sense of honour, and his
readiness to use his influence with the Maoris on their behalf; but it
remains true, on the whole, that the opposite ends of the island were
set against each other--missionaries and Government in the north over
against colonists and Company in the south.

Such was the condition of affairs on May 29th, 1842, when there arrived
in Auckland the Right Reverend George Augustus Selwyn to take up the
position of bishop of the divided flock. This remarkable man was then in
the prime of early manhood, and he brought with him not only a lithe
athletic frame well fitted to endure hardship; not only the culture of
Cambridge and of Eton, where he had learned and taught, and the courtly
atmosphere of Windsor, where he had exercised his ministry; but above
all he brought with him _ideals_. These took the form of a strong
centralised government in the Church. While yet a curate, he had
attracted attention by his vigorous defence of the cathedral system,
through which he proposed to govern the whole Church of England. But his
thoughts had travelled far beyond the bounds of a merely national
Church. Stirred by the spectacle (alluded to in our Introduction) of the
dominance of Mohammedanism in the lands of the East, he had dreamed of
himself as Bishop of Malta, or some other Mediterranean post, whence he
might lead a new crusade into North Africa, and win back the home of St.
Cyprian and St. Augustine to the faith of Christ. Curiously enough, some
such scheme was actually on foot at the time of his consecration (Oct.
17, 1841), and one of his first episcopal acts was to join in laying
hands on a bishop who was sent out to Jerusalem to endeavour to stir the
languid religion of the mother city of Christendom. Being chosen to read
the epistle on this occasion, Selwyn had selected the passage which
tells of the Apostle Paul's last journey to the Holy City; and he had
thrown such intensity of feeling into his reading of the words, "Behold,
I go bound in the Spirit unto Jerusalem," that some of the other
prelates were in tears. But he was not the man to grieve over what could
not be altered. If it was not to be his lot to be sent to the ancient
city of Zion as its bishop, he would bravely set forth to a very
different field, and would endeavour to build a new Jerusalem at the
uttermost ends of the earth.

His coming was eagerly looked for by both sides. The Wellington settlers
confidently expected that he would fix his residence among them, and
give to their colony that seal of legality which it had hitherto lacked.
The New Zealand Company had been largely instrumental in carrying the
bishopric bill through the Imperial Parliament; it had made large
promises of financial assistance: now it looked for the support of the
bishop in its struggle with missionaries and officials.[5] But the new
bishop was not minded to become a dignified ornament of the Wellington
settlement. To build his new Jerusalem he needed "an entrenched camp,"
and for this he must have a spiritual atmosphere, and he must have
living material and suitable buildings. Instead, therefore, of going to
the colonial south, he turned first in the direction of the missionary
north. In less than a month after his arrival in his diocese, he had
reached the Bay of Islands; he had captivated Henry Williams (who wrote,
"I am afraid to say how delighted I am"); and had resolved to make his
entrenched camp at Waimate, the most eligible and beautiful of the
missionary stations. Here were fertile land and a farming establishment;
here was a school for missionaries' children, which he might easily
convert into a college; here was a church whose spire rose gracefully
above the surrounding trees; here was a religious atmosphere already in
existence.

  [5] For the right understanding of the subsequent history, the
  following extract from a letter of Gibbon Wakefield to Mr. J. R.
  Godley (Dec. 21st, 1847) is of the utmost importance: "I really cannot
  tell you what the Bishop of New Zealand is. His see was _created_ by
  us in spite of many obstacles put in our way by the Church and the
  Government. Indeed, we forced the measure on the Melbourne Government;
  and in that measure originated all the new Colonial bishoprics. If our
  views had been taken up by the Church, great results would have been
  obtained both for the Church and colonisation. I will not say that Dr.
  Selwyn turned round upon us, and joined our foes, the anti-colonising
  'Church Missionary Society'; but I am sure he is not a wise man."

But the bishop had no intention of leaving the European settlements
untended. Before forming his central establishment at Waimate, he
undertook a thorough visitation of his diocese, or at least of every
part of it in which church work was being carried on. In order to
appreciate the magnitude of his task, it will be well to take a
bird's-eye view of the whole scene.

The North Island was by this time fairly well known. Though the Maori
race had been terribly reduced in numbers since the coming of Marsden in
1814, still their _pas_ were to be found in every fertile bay round the
coast, up every river valley, and round the lakes of the interior. Large
areas of uninhabited country were to be found in the inland regions, but
these were either too mountainous, too barren, or too heavily timbered
for such an ease-loving race. The Maoris clustered in greatest numbers
round the warm springs of Rotorua, on the coast to the east, and in the
extreme north; but their most powerful warrior was Rauparaha, who had
migrated (as before explained) to the island of Kapiti. The tribes were
all Christian, or ready to become so, and Selwyn in all his travels
seldom found a professing heathen.

The South Island was still little known, except at the extreme north and
the extreme south. At the north, the town of Nelson had just been
founded, and farming had begun on the Waimea Plains. In the south,
Maoris and whalers lived an isolated life on the harbours and islands of
Foveaux Strait. A few whaling stations were dotted along the east coast
of the island, but the maps of the time show the ignorance that
prevailed. The sea is represented as covering the whole district in
which the town of Christchurch now stands; mythical bays indent the
coast; while the interior is marked simply by "high mountains supposed
to be covered with perpetual snow," and "greenstone lakes" which occur
in unexpected places.

The one spot in this region which might have redeemed its otherwise
inhospitable character was the harbour of Akaroa, where a French colony
had lately made its home. But this bit of old France had nothing to do
with the rest of the country. The settlers went their own way, planting
their vines and their fig-trees, propagating the willow slips which they
had gathered on their outward voyage at Napoleon's grave, and turning
their eyes to the French warship which lay in their harbour, rather than
to the Union Jack which floated on the shore.

Of the two races which formed his flock, there could be no question as
to which needed the bishop's attention first. The Maoris were well cared
for by the missionaries, but for the white settlers very little had been
done. The number of these was considerable. There were over 3,000 of
them at Wellington and Petone, over 2,000 at Nelson, and 1,900 at
Auckland; while the smaller towns of New Plymouth and Wanganui contained
some hundreds of inhabitants. Not being "heathens," they did not come
within the regular sphere of the Church Missionary Society, and the
English bishops did not show themselves eager to co-operate with
Wakefield and his Company. The old Church Society "for the Propagation
of the Gospel," which was afterwards to give generous help to the New
Zealand settlements, had sent out one chaplain (the Rev. J. F. Churton)
with the first Wellington settlers; but he had received so little
support that after nine months he had left the town, "an impoverished
man." Making his way to Auckland, this clergyman had there met with a
much better reception, and his congregation had at once commenced to
build a large and substantial church. This church (St. Paul's) was in
process of erection when the bishop reached Auckland.

Meanwhile the Company's settlements were left without any regular
clerical ministrations. The bishop had brought out with him from England
a band of clergy, and these he resolved to plant in the various colonial
towns. Leaving one of these, with a student, to proceed direct to
Wellington, he himself sailed for Nelson on July 28th, 1842, with the
Rev. C. L. Reay. Arriving on the following Sunday, he preached at once
in the immigration barrack. For the next Sunday's services he availed
himself of a large tent which an English friend had given him. This was
fitted up with every requisite for divine service, and the bishop saw it
filled with a good congregation. One of the colonists (the Rev. C.
Saxton) was found to be a clergyman who had already provided occasional
services. The bishop therefore, having chosen a site for a church on the
beautiful elevation in the heart of the town, was able to leave this
lovely spot with a good hope of its future progress.

Very different were his feelings when he crossed the strait to
Wellington. It seemed as though the cause of the Church were doomed to
disappointment in this most populous of the New Zealand towns. The two
men whom the bishop had sent in advance, he found at death's door from
typhus fever, contracted amidst the insanitary conditions of a new
settlement. The bishop devoted himself to nursing the invalids, and had
the happiness of seeing one of them (the Rev. R. Cole) restored to
health. But Willie Evans, the student whom he had hoped to have with him
on his travels, died on October 3, leaning on the bishop's arm. Nor was
this the only disappointment which Wellington afforded. "There appears
to be neither school nor chapel connected with the church," wrote the
bishop, "nor provision for either." He had hoped to place there a
clergyman "of high character and standing" as archdeacon, and to have
provided him with ample resources, but the New Zealand Company failed to
provide its promised quota, and the scheme fell through. The residents
of the town gave the bishop an address--and but little else. He could
but leave his newly-ordained and just convalescent priest to occupy this
arduous post, with no nearer human support than that of Hadfield at
Waikanae.

After the funeral of Evans, the journey overland to Taranaki was begun.
On the way the bishop of course met Hadfield, who had struggled manfully
along since he had been left there by Henry Williams three years before.
He still looked like a man doomed to death, and lived on little but
biscuit, but he had acquired a wonderful influence over his Maori flock.
Passing on to the Wanganui, the bishop had what proved to be his last
interview with Mason, whose zeal and activity elicited his admiration;
he also received an address of congratulation from the small English
community of the town. At New Plymouth also everything looked bright.
This settlement was almost exclusively Anglican, and good sites were at
once offered for churches and schools. Having thus visited all the
English towns, the bishop took ship down the west coast and again
reached Waikanae. Here he prepared for the more arduous part of his
journey--the visitation of the mission stations throughout the island.

This expedition may be compared with that of Henry Williams three years
before, but Selwyn avoided the difficult mountain region of the centre
by taking a more southern line and following up the valley of the
Manawatu. The Maoris poled him up this river in their canoes, and, after
carrying him in this way through the well-known gorge, deposited him on
the eastern side of the ranges on November 11. A day's journey through
the Forty-Mile Bush brought the party to the open plains of Hawke's Bay
when again native habitations began to appear. Three days later he was
met by Mr. William Williams, whose society he much enjoyed on the way to
Ahuriri, where he found (about 6 miles from the site of the present
town of Napier) a substantial chapel containing 400 persons, though this
community had only once before been visited by a missionary. Proceeding
northwards along the coast, he was struck with the results of Mr.
Williams' labours in the orderliness and devotion of the converts. At
Turanga (7 miles from Gisborne) he preached to "a noble congregation of
at least 1,000 persons," who gave the responses in a deep sonorous
manner, which was most striking. During the service the bishop installed
William Williams as archdeacon of the eastern district.

[Illustration: A VILLAGE CHURCH, STOKE (near Nelson).]

Northwards still proceeded the tireless bishop on foot, until he reached
Stack's mission station in the Waiapu valley; then turning across the
rugged mountain ranges, he emerged into the Bay of Plenty. The grand
sweep of its coast line was bordered with native cultivations, and
relieved with the crimson blossoms of the pohutakawa trees, while on the
blue horizon rose a cloud of sulphureous steam from White Island.
Mission stations now appeared at frequent intervals, and the rest of the
bishop's journey was a succession of pleasing experiences. The rose-clad
cottage of Mr. and Mrs. Brown, at Tauranga; the comfortable abode of
Chapman on Hinemoa's island in Lake Rotorua; the thermal springs which
promptly healed the sprains and bruises of the arduous journey; the
coloured pools in which healthy Maori children bathed and played; the
wheat-fields and the English fruit of the central plateau; the mission
stations of Morgan and Ashwell on the Waipa and Waikato; the easy canoe
journey down these rivers until once more the western sea was reached:
all this was delightful in itself, and prepared the traveller for a keen
discussion on Bible translation with the expert Maunsell at the Waikato
Heads.

The last stage was again a painful one, for boots and clothes had well
nigh given out, and it was with blistered feet that the bishop tramped
along the sandy coast to Hamlin's cottage on the Manukau, whence a sail
across the harbour brought him to Onehunga, with just one suit
sufficiently decent to enable him to enter Auckland by daylight, though
his broken boots compelled him to avoid its central street.

This journey, which lasted exactly three months from the day when he
left Wellington to that on which he arrived at Waimate (Oct. 10,
1842--Jan. 9, 1843), must be pronounced a great one. Even now, with all
the aids of railways, roads, and steamers, it would be no easy feat. To
cross the island not once but twice--first from west to east, and then
from east to west--besides skirting the coast for some hundreds of
miles, and to do all this on foot, except where rivers could be utilised
with native canoes, was surely a remarkable achievement. The results of
his investigation were thoroughly satisfactory to the bishop. Wherever
he went he had preached to the Maoris in their native tongue, and had
won golden opinions from them. The missionaries had everywhere given him
a hearty welcome, and had generally come some miles to meet him when
they had heard of his approach. Of them, as of their converts, he had
formed a favourable opinion. Whatever might formerly have been his
yearnings for the ancient Jerusalem, they were now quite overpowered.
The words which kept rising to his lips were words of thankfulness: "The
lot is fallen unto me in a fair ground; yea, I have a goodly heritage."



CHAPTER IX.

ADJUSTMENT.

(1843-1844).

  Unreconciled antitheses are prophecies and promises of a larger
  future.
    --_Westcott._


With Bishop Selwyn there appeared in New Zealand a type of churchmanship
which was new to the Maoris, and even to their teachers. Much had
happened in the mother country since Marsden and the brothers Williams
had left it. The Oxford, or "Tractarian," movement had drawn men's minds
to the thought of the visible Church; the old Missionary Society, which
had been founded under Queen Anne "for the Propagation of the Gospel in
Foreign Parts," had recovered from its low condition, and was once more
doing active work among British colonists; the study of Christian
antiquity was being zealously pursued, and many young churchmen were
enthusiastically bent on imitating the ascetic lives of the saints and
hermits of the past.

Selwyn himself did not belong to the Tractarians, but he admired them
from afar, and he was influenced to a great extent by the same spirit.
The key to much of the subsequent history of the New Zealand Church may
be found in a spectacle which might be seen at Kerikeri in the year
after the bishop's arrival. At this place was a large and solid stone
building, which the missionaries used as a store: here, in an upstairs
apartment, the bishop arranged his library. Passing among "bales of
blankets, iron pots, rusty rat-traps and saws," he loved to enter his
retreat, in which there was nothing "colonial," but where he could
feast his eyes on "ancient folios of Commentators, Councils, and Annals
of the Church,"--St. Augustine "standing up like a tower," and St.
Irenaeus "with the largest margin that I ever saw." Not that Selwyn
spent much of his time over these treasures--his life was too fully
occupied for that--but he knew pretty well what they contained, and he
shaped his policy accordingly. The missionaries had been men of one
book: Selwyn was a man of many books. He knew his Bible, it is true,
with the intimate "textual" knowledge of the most old-fashioned divine,
and he had a marvellous skill in calling up the appropriate verse on all
occasions. But he interpreted it in the light of Christian antiquity.
Pearson on the Creed, with its patristic citations, was ever at his
hand. This, with his Bible and his Prayer Book, constituted his working
theological equipment. Every doctrine, every argument, every rule, was
clearly conceived and arranged in his mind, ready for immediate use.

Upon the shelves of the Kerikeri library reposed one volume of special
interest. This was Marsden's copy of Hooker's "Ecclesiastical Polity,"
which had been publicly presented to the bishop on his arrival in
Sydney. Selwyn already knew his Hooker almost by heart, but the gift
stood as a token of the spiritual relationship which united these two
great men. Yet their "polity" was not altogether the same. In his
appreciation of the "catholic" aspect of the Church's heritage, the
bishop failed to realise the value of the local catholicity which had
been evolved by Marsden and his fellow workers. He could find no place
for the Wesleyan mission in his scheme. Always courteous to its leaders,
he yet could not continue the old communion with them. From this change
of attitude the logical Maoris drew conclusions which soon brought
sadness to the bishop himself. Up and down the country, but especially
in Taranaki, where the spheres of influence met, the converts were
violently perturbed. A savage burst of sectarian fury broke out. Each
small community was divided against itself, and its Christianity, like
that of the Corinthians, evaporated in bitter party feeling. In one _pa_
a high fence was built through the midst to divide the adherents of
"Weteri" (Wesley) from those of "Hahi" (the Church).

Controversy and division were not the only foes which hindered the
building of the new Jerusalem. The angel of death hovered near and smote
down the workers with relentless hand. At Wellington the bishop had
buried the remains of his student, Evans; but he had ordained to the
priesthood the Rev. J. Mason, the new missionary at Wanganui. Within a
few weeks this excellent man was drowned in the Turakina River. Nor did
the sad tale end here. On reaching home after his journey the bishop was
confronted by the wasted face and hollow cough of one who was to have
been the principal of the college he was founding at Waimate. This was
the Rev. Thomas Whytehead, a man of beautiful and saintly character,
whom the bishop had looked to for spiritual support and inspiration. He
was indeed the St. Barnabas of the little community as long as his life
lasted, but in a few weeks he passed away from earth, and his remains
were buried in the Waimate churchyard. Like the Barnabas of old, he laid
his money at the apostles' feet by bequeathing all his private fortune
to the bishop for the purposes of the college, and he left as a legacy
to the whole Church the touching hymn for Easter Eve:

  Resting from his work to-day.

His monetary gift proved of great value, for with it was afterwards
acquired the estate at Tamaki, upon which the present St. John's College
stands; but still more precious to the Church is the "sweet fragrance of
his memory."

Whytehead's bequest was only one manifestation of the spirit which
actuated the community throughout. The members lived with the bishop in
one of the old houses at the Waimate mission station. He himself paid
into the common fund the whole of his episcopal income of £1,200, and
drew out as his proper share only £500. The farm was worked on
communistic principles. Teachers and students must all take their share
in manual labour. Lectures on Greek and Latin must be given in the
intervals of ploughing, or printing, or teaching Maori children to read
or hoe or spin. Each "associate" received a fixed salary; all profits
went to the support of the institution.

The reasons for this insistence on manual training were twofold. Like
Bishop Broughton, Selwyn had observed that "throughout the whole mission
the delusion has prevailed that the Gospel will give habits as well as
principles." He began, in fact, as Marsden had begun, with a strong
insistence on the industrial side of education, for the sake of
developing in the Maori a well-ordered and diligent character which the
white man would respect, and with which he might co-operate in the
building up of a united nation. The fervour and the teachableness of the
Maori were to help the religion of the Briton: the energy and industry
of the Briton were to balance the dreamy nature of the Maori.

But, secondly, the community thus organised on primitive and Christian
lines was to be a spectacle and an example to the world. Selwyn did not
read his Bible or his Fathers with the interest of a mere student. In
the background of his thought lay the Socialist and Chartist movement,
which was even then preparing for the explosion of 1848. The Church must
show the true principle of brotherhood in active operation, and he hoped
to attract to his community young men from the English universities, who
were going over to Rome through discontent with the comfortable
worldliness of the mother Church. "I have at command," he wrote, "a rill
of water, a shady wood, a rocky cave, and roots of fern, for every one
of these would-be anchorites." But the would-be anchorites found no
attraction in the hard work which New Zealand offered, and the bishop's
college was recruited chiefly from the grey-haired missionaries or their
sons. From these he replenished the number of his clergy, which had been
reduced by the drowning of Mason, and by the withdrawal of two other
priests to England. His first ordination was that of Richard Davis, the
farmer-catechist, in June, 1843; while in September three more students
were admitted to the diaconate (Bolland, Spencer, and Butt), and thus at
least for a time the ranks were filled.

With the ordination of these students closed the first session of the
college. The bishop had arranged to spend each winter with his students,
and each summer in travelling about the diocese and planting out those
whom he had ordained. During the first term he had often found time to
hold large confirmations at or near the Bay of Islands, as well as to
open the new church at Auckland; now with the spring he set out on a
journey even more far-reaching than that of the previous year. His route
lay at first through the interior of the island, and intersected his
former line of march. His object was to visit the Taupo and Upper
Wanganui missions, which he had not as yet seen, and afterwards to lift
the veil which hid the farthest south.

The first stages of his journey were marked by some memorable
experiences. Near Lake Tarawera, "on turning a corner of the valley, we
saw before us what appeared to be a large waterfall, apparently 50 feet
in height and about the same in width. As we came nearer we were
surprised to hear no noise of falling waters, but still the appearance
was the same in the moonlight. In a few minutes we found ourselves
walking upon what had appeared to be water." The bishop had in fact
found the famous White Terraces, which were afterwards destroyed in the
eruption of 1886. After leaving one of his deacons (Spencer) at Lake
Taupo, the bishop and his party were weatherbound for a week in the
mountains near the head waters of the Wanganui, and were reduced to very
short rations. In order to get canoes, Selwyn inflated his air bed, and
placing it on a frame of sticks he sent two of his Maoris sailing down
the stream upon it, and was thus able to make known his plight to the
settlements below. When a canoe at last arrived, the weather changed,
and the descent of this beautiful stream was in every way a joy. From
far above Pipiriki, Selwyn landed at every _pa_, and held service or
catechised the natives. Sunday, November 19th, was a time of special
interest. "A more lovely day in respect of weather," he wrote, "or one
more full of interest in respect of its moral circumstances, or of
pleasure from the beauty of the scenery through which I passed, I never
remember to have spent. It was a day of intense delight from beginning
to end: from the earliest song of the birds, who awakened me in the
morning, to the Evening Hymn of the natives, which was just concluded
when I reached the door of the native chapel at Ikurangi."

The remaining weeks of the year 1843 were spent amongst the "Cook Strait
settlements," in most of which good progress was evident. At Nelson a
church and a neat brick parsonage had already been built, while at
Wanganui the Maoris had resolved to pull down their brick church and to
build a larger one in wood. Wellington was still the unsatisfactory
spot. No English church had yet been begun, and the sense of grievance
was still strong.

However natural such feelings might once have been, they were surely
inexcusable now. For since the bishop's last visit, Wellington had
contracted such a debt to the missionaries as should have changed its
grievance into gratitude. The New Zealand Company had made its great
blunder in attempting to take possession of the Marlborough plain
without buying it from its native owners. The result had been the Wairau
tragedy, in which 19 white men had been killed by the Maoris under
Rauparaha and Rangihaeta. The effect of this deed of blood was quickly
felt in other parts. Up every river valley the news was passed that the
Maori had at last turned on the pakeha, and had beaten him in open
fight. The crafty Rauparaha, fearing a terrific act of vengeance on the
part of the white men, resolved to forestall any such danger by driving
them out of the country. He felt certain of his own Ngatitoas, but
between them and Wellington lay Waikanae, where Hadfield's influence was
strong, and where Wiremu Kingi, the father-in-law of Ripahau, was chief.
To Waikanae accordingly he steered his boat. Still wet with the salt
spray of the strait, and faint from long exertion, he pleaded with such
power and pathos that he almost won over these tribesmen to his daring
project. The situation was a critical one. Not a moment was to be lost.
Hadfield ordered the bell to be rung for Evensong; the assembly thronged
in to prayers; and for the time the excitement calmed down.

But the danger was not over. All through the long winter night,
Rauparaha was busy in trying to induce Wiremu Kingi to join him. He
proposed to attack Wellington and destroy every man, woman, and child.
"Let us destroy the reptile while we have the power to do so," he
argued, "or it will destroy us. We have begun: let us make an end of
them." Kingi was firm, and declared that it was his intention to live at
peace with the pakeha. When daylight came, Rauparaha made one more
effort: "At least remain neutral," he pleaded. "I will oppose you with
my whole force," said Kingi, and the disappointed warrior steered his
canoes northwards.

Even now he did not give up his scheme. Forming his camp on an islet in
the Otaki River, and taking up a bold attitude, he endeavoured to secure
the assistance of the Ngatiraukawa tribesmen. But Hadfield had followed
him along the coast, and now brought his great influence to bear on the
natives as they were gathered on the river bank. Rauparaha's passionate
eloquence failed of its effect, and he saw that the game was lost. With
that rapid decision for which he was renowned, this Maori Napoleon now
seized what seemed his one remaining chance of safety: he crept
submissively to Hadfield, and applied to be received as a candidate for
baptism. Somewhat to the amazement of his white friends, Hadfield
accepted him as a catechumen, and the two men actually became fast
friends.

Thus was white New Zealand saved by Waikanae Christianity; and Waikanae
Christianity was due, under GOD, to an invalided Oxford undergraduate, a
Maori slave, and a little girl with her Gospel of St. Luke!

But what of Rauparaha's son, Tamihana, the man without whom Hadfield
would not have come to the district, nor Ripahau been converted, nor
Tarore's gospel brought into use? This zealous man was engaged at the
moment on an enterprise very different from that which his father had
contemplated. Four years before, he and his cousin had gone to the
extreme north to find a teacher for themselves; now they had gone to the
extreme south in order to teach others. Travelling in an open boat for
more than one thousand miles, these two intrepid men had coasted down
the east of the South Island, and had visited all the _pas_ in what are
now Canterbury and Otago. Their lives were in jeopardy, for the very
name of Rauparaha was enough to arouse a thirst for vengeance among
people whom that conqueror had harried and enslaved; but the earnestness
of the young men was so transparent that they were received peacefully
in every place, and their message was welcomed and accepted.

Such were the tidings which the bishop heard when he reached Otaki.
Rauparaha himself was an "enquirer" into the Christian verities;
Rauparaha's son had evangelised along the line which he himself was
about to travel, and, moreover, was willing to proceed thither again
with the bishop as his guide and companion.

With the same Tamihana, then, and nine other Maoris, the bishop left
Wellington on January 6th, 1844, in a miserable coasting schooner. When
opposite Banks Peninsula the little vessel was forced to put into the
bay of Peraki for supplies, and as a strong contrary wind sprang up at
this juncture, Selwyn determined to walk to Otago instead of going on by
sea. Through this change in his plans, he seems to have been the first
white man to discover that Lake Ellesmere was a freshwater lake, and not
an extension of Pegasus Bay. It was at the point where the hills of the
Peninsula slope steeply down to the end of the Ninety-Mile Beach that
the traveller realised this fact, and it was from this point that he
gained, at sunset, his first view of what were afterwards to be known as
the Canterbury Plains. With his Maoris he spent his first night on shore
at a small _pa_ which then stood at the outlet of Lake Forsyth. After a
supper and breakfast of eels, the party proceeded next day along the
shingle bank which separates Lake Ellesmere from the sea, and at Taumutu
found about forty Maoris, some of whom could read, and "many were
acquainted with the Lord's Prayer, the Belief, and portions of the
Catechism." Here then was the first evidence of Tamihana's previous
visit. The service which the bishop held at this place next morning
(Jan. 11) may be looked upon as the beginning of Church of England
worship in the province of Canterbury.

At Arowhenua more than 100 Maoris were found, but these showed the
effects not only of Tamihana's instruction, but also of Wesleyan
teachers from the south. The melancholy result was the division of the
_pa_ into two sections, who plied the bishop with questions on
denominational distinctions. The same uncomfortable state of things was
found in almost every village as far as Stewart Island, and detracted
much from the pleasure of the tour. At Waikouaiti, 100 miles farther
south, the bishop visited a Wesleyan missionary, Mr. Watkins. He was the
only white teacher who had as yet visited this portion of the country,
and he entertained his guest for two days in friendly fashion. He was
inclined to resent the intrusion of Tamihana into his district, but
admitted in conversation that, owing to weak health, he had never been
able to visit many of the _pas_ himself, and that he had been so
scantily supplied with literature by his Society that he could not
circulate books. The bishop felt that the ground had certainly not been
effectively occupied before Tamihana's visit, for all the Maoris
attributed to him the beginnings of their knowledge of the truth. He
therefore declined to recognise a Wesleyan sphere of influence in these
regions, but the parting between himself and this lonely missionary was
thoroughly friendly on both sides.

At Moeraki, Selwyn had again taken to shipboard, and learned from some
of his fellow passengers much of the romantic history of the southern
whaling stations. He was able also to fill in his map with the names of
capes and other coastal features as they came successively into sight:
"In the company of these men I soon found the whole of the mystery which
had hung over the southern islands passing away; every place being as
well known by them as the northern island by us."

The whaling stations of Stewart Island and of the opposite mainland
supplied a curious field for missionary effort. Though Christian
marriage was unknown, the whalers appeared to be faithful to their
native partners, and uniformly anxious that their half-caste children
should lead a more regular life than they themselves had known. In a
considerable number of cases the bishop pronounced the Church's blessing
over these irregular connections, and he distributed large numbers of
simple books for the instruction of the children.

A fortnight soon passed by amidst this interesting community, and, after
reaching the farthest inhabited point at Jacob's River, the bishop was
able to make a quick run by sea back to Akaroa, which he reached on Feb.
14th. Here he evidently felt himself to be on alien soil, for though he
thoroughly appreciated the ceremonious politeness with which he was
received on board the French corvette, he does not seem to have held any
service on shore, nor performed any episcopal act. He was more at home
with a godly Presbyterian family whom he found at Pigeon Bay, and
complied with their request to conduct their evening prayer.

By the end of the month he was back in Wellington, where at last there
appeared some hopeful signs. A new governor (Captain Fitzroy) had just
arrived, who helped him to secure a better site for a church; and a new
judge, "who spoke very co-operatively on church matters." At Auckland he
consecrated St. Paul's Church, and was pleased to find his projected
church at Tamaki already taking shape. Such "a solid venerable-looking
building" refreshed his spirit[6] amidst "the wilderness of
weather-board;" and he had another "delicious day" in his library at
Kerikeri before he finally arrived at Waimate. He was escorted home on
March 21 by a procession of the members of the college and the schools,
amounting in all to full 50 souls, and found everything in such good
order that he requested his English friends to waste no more compassion
upon him for the future.

  [6] Selwyn had an Englishman's love for a stone building, and always
  spoke of the wooden churches of the country as "chapels." Yet some of
  these despised buildings (e.g., those at Kaitaia and at Russell),
  which had been built before his arrival, are still in existence and in
  regular use; whereas his "solid" church, at Tamaki, which he looked
  upon with so much pride, very soon proved dangerous, and is now a
  picturesque ruin.

Everything seemed to promise fair for the second term of the college,
but troubles arose in an unexpected quarter. The Home Committee of the
C.M.S. paid one half of the episcopal stipend, and of course recognised
the spiritual side of the office. But they would not give up their
jurisdiction over their agents, nor allow the bishop to place them where
he would. As nearly all the clergy in the country belonged to this
Society, such a restriction would have left the bishop with but little
real power. Selwyn was the last man in the world to acquiesce in such an
arrangement. The result was that the Society refused to grant him a
renewal of his lease of the buildings at Waimate, and it became
necessary for the bishop to look elsewhere for a site for his
headquarters.

This unhappy breach made no difference to the loyal support which the
leaders of the mission on the spot had always given to their chief.
Rather it drew them closer to him. "I am sorry, very sorry," wrote Henry
Williams, "to learn the way in which the good bishop has been treated by
expulsion from the Waimate. How could this have taken place? Who could
have given consent for such a movement?" His brother and Hadfield were
equally distressed. Selwyn, on his part, seemed to be determined to bind
the missionaries to himself more closely than ever. Four of them he
associated with himself on a translation syndicate, which sat regularly
from May to September to revise the Maori Prayer Book. At the end of the
college term there came what may be called a climax of fellowship. At a
notable service in the Waimate church on Sunday, September 22nd, Henry
Williams and Brown of Tauranga were installed as archdeacons; then
followed an ordination, in which many of the lay catechists whose names
have come before us in the first part of this work were admitted to the
diaconate. Chapman, Hamlin, Matthews, Colenso, and C. P. Davies all
received the laying-on-of-hands; the sermon was preached by Henry
Williams, and the church was crammed with a devout and interested
congregation. "It was grand," writes Lady Martin, "to hear the people
repeat the responses all together in perfect time. It was like the roar
of waves on the beach." On the next day the Maoris, hearing that the
bishop was about to leave them, made a public protest with eloquent
speeches and warlike gestures. Archdeacon W. Williams calmed their
excitement by drawing a diagram on the gravel, and asking whether it was
not fair that the bishop should live in the middle of the diocese
instead of at either end.

One more act of unity was consummated before the final leave-taking. On
the Thursday of that week, the bishop held a synod, at which the three
archdeacons, four other priests, and two deacons were present, its
object being to frame rules "for the better management of the mission,
and the general government of the Church." This little gathering
attracted much notice in England, on account of its being the first
synodical meeting which had been held in modern times; but in itself it
was hardly more imposing than the old meetings of the missionary
committee, which had often been held in the same place. The great point
to be noticed is that it was marked by complete harmony and loyalty. As
yet there was no breach between the leaders in New Zealand. The bishop
and his party left the north on a hot October morning a few weeks later
amidst general regret. Lady Martin tells how the little Maori children
came swarming out into the lane to see the last of the departing
household. The words of their hymn echoed the feelings of the elder
folk:

  Oh that will be joyful,
  When we meet to part no more!

O Bishop! O Missionaries! Pray, as you never prayed before, for the
grace of the Holy Ghost to keep you united still.



CHAPTER X.

CONFLICT AND TROUBLE.

(1845-1850).

  The sequel of to-day unsolders all
  The goodliest fellowship of famous knights
  Whereof this world holds record.
    --_Tennyson._


When Bishop Selwyn removed his headquarters from the Bay of Islands, he
was in no doubt as to whither to betake himself. Auckland was the seat
of government, and the most central position from which to reach the
various mission stations; it was the strongest church centre of all the
European settlements; and it was the home of Judge Martin, with whom the
bishop had already formed a close friendship, and who was destined
afterwards, as Sir William Martin, to play an important part in the
building up of the New Zealand Church.

Thither accordingly the bishop moved his family and his collegiate
establishment in the spring of 1844. With part of the Whytehead bequest,
he had bought several hundred acres of land at Tamaki, about six miles
from the town, and not far from Mokoia, the scene of the great battle
between Hongi and Hinaki. The first summer was spent in the erection of
the buildings, for which the bishop's English friends had subscribed no
less than £5,000. During this time the community lived in tents and
other temporary habitations at Purewa, which served as the "port" of the
new establishment. Before winter there were sufficient permanent
structures at St. John's College itself to house the scholars, and soon
the varied activities of the old Waimate period were resumed with even
more than their old vigour.

[Illustration: ST. MATTHEW'S CHURCH, AUCKLAND (showing the original
wooden Church on the right).]

Nothing, indeed, could exceed the simplicity or the theoretical
comprehensiveness of the college ideal. The agricultural department was
still a prominent feature, and the bishop loved to watch his little army
of 70 spades going forth in the morning to its task of breaking up the
rough fern land. The printing press had been brought from the north, and
was kept busily at work; weaving, carpentry, and shoe-making also were
carried on. One of the largest buildings was a hospital--the first in
New Zealand--where patients were attended by "the Brethren and Sisters
of the Hospital of St. John," whose vows bound them "to minister to the
wants of the sick of all classes, without respect of persons or
reservation of service, not for any material reward, but for the love of
God." Schools for Maori and English children formed, as before, an
essential part of the scheme, and the little chapel with its daily
services shed a hallowing influence over the whole. The communistic
character of the organisation was maintained, but one-third of the
profits of the farm were divided among the lay associates to enable them
to stock farms of their own when the time of their training should
expire. Prominent among the students were two youths who had walked to
Auckland from Poverty Bay. These were Leonard Williams, son of the
Archdeacon of Waiapu; and Samuel, second son of Archdeacon Henry
Williams. This young man, who was afterwards to become famous for his
agricultural success, his wealth, and his generosity, was ordained in
the college chapel on Sept. 20th, 1846, and married, at the same place,
a few days later, to a member of his uncle's family. The double event
drew a large concourse of both the Williams families, and thus served to
emphasise the solidarity which existed in that hopeful spring-tide
between the bishop and the missionary clergy.

Such evidences became all the more precious in the light of outside
events. The relations between the bishop and the Church Missionary
Society, so far from improving, became worse. The Society had tried to
make some atonement for its closure of Waimate by presenting the bishop
with the printing-press, and also with a yacht (the _Flying Fish_), in
which Hadfield had been wont to visit the _pas_ in the Nelson sounds.
But it would not give way on the question of the placing of its agents;
and on the bishop refusing to acquiesce in a divided authority, it
declined to present any more of its catechists for ordination. The
brothers Williams by no means approved of this policy, for to them it
seemed that the bishop was more likely to know the wants of the whole
diocese than could a committee in London, and they trusted his judgment
entirely. Yet, a well-meant act of this very kind had already
contributed to the series of events which was destined to mar the godly
harmony with which the young Church of this land had hitherto been
blessed.

One of the concluding tasks of the Waimate period had been the revision
of the Maori Prayer Book. Archdeacon W. Williams must of course be
brought from the east coast for this work, and the bishop despatched the
elder brother to take his place there for the time. The step was an
unfortunate one, for never was the old peace-maker's influence more
needed in the north than at this juncture. The Maoris were becoming
restless under the regulations of the new government, and their
discontent was fanned by Americans and other foreigners, who told them
that the flagstaff upon the hill overlooking Kororareka (or Russell) was
a symbol that the country had passed away from the native race, and that
soon the Maoris would be reduced to slavery. These taunts made a deep
impression upon the mind of Hone Heke, a clever man who had learned in
the mission school at Paihia and in Henry Williams' own household to
read and understand something of what was passing in the world. The
American whalers had instilled into him an ardent admiration for George
Washington, while the British Government had just become discredited in
the eyes of all good men through the "Opium War" in China. To shake off
its yoke became to Heke the part of true patriotism, and to fell the
flagstaff was to strike at the symbol of Babylonish idolatry.[7]

  [7] In the negotiations which followed the war, Heke addressed the
  British commissioner as "King of Babylon," much to the embarrassment
  of Henry Williams, who was acting as interpreter!

The one man who might have dissuaded Heke from his purpose was his old
master, Te Wiremu, and it was just in the months of Te Wiremu's absence
that the flagstaff was first cut down (Sept. 16, 1844). It was felled
again in the following January, and in March came the real struggle.
When Henry Williams returned to the Bay, shortly after the first
outbreak, it was too late to change Heke's purpose. The die was cast.
But he was still able to do much with those Maoris who had not yet
declared themselves on Heke's side. By circulating and explaining the
terms of the treaty of Waitangi, he won over the great chief, Tamati
Waka Nene; and it was this man's force that eventually turned the scale
on the British side. Williams and Waka Nene saved Auckland at this
crisis, as certainly as Hadfield and Wiremu Kingi had saved Wellington
the year before. But, though Henry Williams was unable to shake the
determination of the "rebels," he could not withhold a certain
admiration at their conduct. "It is astonishing," he wrote, "to see
Heke: how close he keeps to his Testament and his Prayer Book. I am
disposed to think he is conscious he is doing a good work, as, previous
to his attack on the flagstaff, he asked a blessing on his proceedings;
and, after he had completed the mischief, he returned thanks for having
strength for his work." Right up to the eve of the final assault, Heke
attended the church services devoutly, and in planning this assault he
betook himself to his Bible. A strong force of military was now
protecting the mast, but Heke took his tactics from those of Joshua at
Ai. While his ally, Kawiti, engaged the British soldiers and marines at
the opposite end of the beach, Heke himself and his party lay in ambush
below the block-house. The stratagem was successful: the block-house was
easily overpowered; the mast once more felled to the earth; and then the
victors, having achieved their object, sat down on the hill-top to watch
the scene below.

A curious scene it is! A terrific explosion of all the English
ammunition in the lower block-house brings the fighting to an end, but
the harbour is alive with boats laden with fugitive settlers. Here, are
Henry Williams and the bishop conveying dead and wounded soldiers to
Paihia, or to the man-of-war which lies at anchor in the background;
there, are Maoris cheerfully helping their late enemies to save their
household goods. But what are these English doing? Their warship begins
to fire at the town, and especially at the church behind which the
wounded are lying! No one is hurt, it is true; but is not the meaning
clear enough? Can there be any doubt now as to the unchristian character
of the British rule? Must it not be the anti-Christ?

If such were the thoughts of the Maori, which the sight of the
bombardment of Russell awoke in his mind, how much stronger would they
have been, could he have heard the gross and violent abuse which was
showered on Henry Williams by the officers of the _Hazard_, as he sat in
his boat alongside, waiting for the bishop? Through all his years of
missionary work the old naval officer had never forgotten the service to
which he had once belonged, and now the cries of "Traitor!" cut him to
the quick. Sorrowfully he made his way across the Bay to his home. The
"beginning of sorrows" had come.

With his sons he was again at Russell, on the morrow, using his
influence to keep some sort of order, until intoxication began among the
victorious Maoris. Yet, even when they burnt the town, these "savages"
were careful to save the churches and the parsonages; and a few days
later Heke called on Williams at Paihia, and in the kindest tones begged
him to move inland out of harm's way. In spite of all his disapprobation
of their conduct, the missionary could not but feel that his converts
were not altogether untrue to their profession. But the more their
reverence for their teachers became conspicuous, the louder rose the cry
of "traitor" from the English side. "You _must_ have given them
encouragement," was the common charge; "for look how they single you out
for their favour!"

Before long, indeed, it seemed as though the innocence of the missionary
was being vindicated by a Higher Power. The tide of war rolled inland,
and Heke was defeated by Waka Nene, who now fought on the British side.
Still more tragic was the death of the rash Lieutenant Philpott in the
unsuccessful attack upon the stockade of Ohaeawai, July 1, 1845. This
was the man who had ordered the bombardment of the church at Russell,
and who had led the cry of "traitor" afterwards. He was a brave man, and
the son of a bishop; but his excitable mind had been poisoned by the
officials of the New Zealand Company, and now that death had interposed
its extenuating plea, his offence could be forgiven. The archdeacon was
permitted by the victorious Maoris to take the officer's eyeglass, and a
lock of hair from his brow, for transmission to his English friends, and
might well hope that the falsehoods he had uttered would be buried in
his grave.

But this was not to be. The final act in this disastrous war brought on
the scene an antagonist who took up with craft the charge which Philpott
had made in ignorance, and pressed it home for many years with all the
astuteness and malignity of a superior intellect.

The ill success of the British arms had caused the recall of the
friendly Governor Fitzroy, and the appointment in his place of Captain
(afterwards Sir George) Grey. This officer began his military operations
with a much larger force, and advanced against the strongest position
which the Maoris had yet fortified--that of Ruapekapeka, or the Bats'
Nest. The name was only too appropriate at this period, for the place
seemed to abound with creatures of darkness. Who does not know that the
_pa_ was captured by the governor on a Sunday morning (Jan. 11, 1846),
while the defenders were engaged in worship in the bush outside?[8] This
was bad enough, for now the Maoris had been taught how little Christian
England regarded either their sacred places or their sacred day. But out
of the Bats' Nest came a second charge against Henry Williams. The
governor averred that letters had been found in the captured _pa_ which
amounted to a positive proof of the missionary's treason. As the troops
marched back to the Bay of Islands, a common topic of their conversation
was the arrest of the "traitor," whom they expected to see carried off
in handcuffs to Auckland for his trial. The letter which had been found
was really one that Williams had written to the Maori leader, urging
him to submit himself to the government; but, by burning the letter, the
governor was able to base upon it a charge which was dangerous from its
very vagueness. Conscious of his innocence, the missionary remained at
his post, and at last saw the police boat depart without him on a Sunday
afternoon, and was able to go in peace to his evening service.

  [8] It is strange to find the good Lady Martin recording this action
  without a word of disapproval. Carleton's defence of it is
  extraordinary. If the Maoris had been given the Apocrypha (which they
  had not) they might have read of Jonathan the Maccabee fighting a
  defensive battle on the Sabbath. The amusing part is that Carleton
  himself could not at the moment lay his hand on a copy of the
  Apocrypha, and had to fall back on Josephus! A more consoling comment
  is given by Lieut.-Col. Mundy: "Who shall say that this neglect of
  man's ordinances and observance of God's in the time of their trouble,
  did not bring with them a providential and merciful result? It led,
  doubtless, to their almost instantaneous defeat; but it saved them and
  the English from the tenfold carnage which a more vigilant and
  disciplined resistance, from within their walls, would have infallibly
  caused."

The prospect of a trial was indeed less welcome to the governor himself
than to the archdeacon, for throughout the long conflict which followed,
a public enquiry was the one thing which Henry Williams consistently
claimed, and which the governor as consistently evaded. But the peace
which followed the departure of the troops was occupied by the latter in
forging weapons of a different character. Six months after the fall of
the Bats' Nest, the governor indited to the Secretary of State for the
Colonies a "confidential" despatch, which even his defenders admit to be
full of falsehoods. This despatch came to be known as the "Blood and
Treasure Despatch," and it forms the key to the whole after history of
the quarrel. In this document Governor Grey completely abandoned the
charge of stirring up the Maoris to rebel, and accused the missionaries
of claiming more than their share of the land of the natives, and
thereby making inevitable another war. "Her Majesty's Government," he
wrote, "may rest satisfied that these individuals cannot be put in
possession of these tracts of land without a large expenditure of
British blood and money." By "these individuals" he meant (as specified
in another part of the despatch) "several members of the Church
Missionary Society," as well as other settlers, who had acquired land
from the natives. The despatch was addressed to Mr. Gladstone; but
shortly after its arrival a change of government took place, and the new
colonial secretary, Lord Grey, made known its contents to the Church
Missionary Society, by whom it was transmitted to New Zealand.

Its publication had all the effect of a thunderbolt. What could the
governor mean by such charges? So far from there being any need of a
British army to put the missionaries--or rather, their sons--in
possession of the land, the truth, of course, was that they were already
in possession and had been quietly farming their grants for some years.
All through the war the Maoris had respected their titles, and were on
the best of terms with the young farmers. To Henry Williams, with his
life-long devotion to the government he had once served, no charge could
have been more painful. It touched his honour to the quick. He offered
to give up every acre of the land, if the governor would either retract
or substantiate his charges. Neither of these things would the governor
attempt to do. He was determined to get the land, and he left no stone
unturned in his efforts to accomplish his object.

August and September, 1847, were the critical time of this distressing
episode. On Aug. 13th, Henry Williams received from London the news of
the "Blood and Treasure" despatch. It was accompanied by a letter from
the C.M.S., instructing the missionaries to divest themselves of all
land in excess of 1,260 acres for each grant. They might sell it, or
make it over to their children, or put it in trust for the benefit of
the aborigines, but they were not to retain it for "their own use and
benefit." Nothing could have been more satisfactory to Henry Williams,
who had never drawn a shilling from the land for his own use, but had
always paid his sons for any of their produce he might require. He now
sent to the Society an undertaking that he would at once transfer the
land legally to his family, and thus he hoped to put an end to the
dispute.

But this did not satisfy the governor. In the same month he submitted
proposals so worded as to imply, if accepted, that the land (or a
portion of it) had been unjustly acquired. This at once brought up again
the question of _honour_, and the proposals were of course rejected.

It was at this juncture that the governor took a course which was
fraught with evil consequences to the New Zealand Church. He applied for
help to the bishop. Unless the question was settled, he said, he would
be obliged to take steps which might deeply injure their common faith.
Would the bishop communicate his letter to the missionaries, and use his
influence to induce them to give up their land?

What was the bishop to do? It is generally supposed that he allowed
himself to be persuaded against his better judgment by the plausible
arguments of the governor. But this is surely to wrong a man of Selwyn's
character. He had stood shoulder to shoulder with Henry Williams in
upholding the validity of the Treaty of Waitangi, against the action of
the same governor and of the Home authorities. It was not likely that he
would weakly give way to the blandishments of any individual, unless he
had convinced himself that the cause was a just one. How then can we
account for his action in this instance?

The only explanation that seems to meet the case is that which is
supplied by the idealistic nature of Selwyn's mind. One of his ideals
was plain living, and he had something of the socialist's contempt for
the "rights of property." Even before his consecration his mind had been
exercised on the question of the land purchases of the New Zealand
missionaries. When he arrived in the country, he told Henry Williams
that he had determined to take no notice of the matter, but for all that
he never abated his dislike of the system. These "waste and worthless
acres" threatened to mar the success of his schemes. "Catechism and
bread and butter" should be enough for missionaries' children; and when
these grew to manhood, was not St. John's College open to them, with its
farm and its technical training, besides its invitation to the offices
of schoolmaster and deacon? If the missionaries' sons were endowed with
land of their own, would they not be so much absorbed with its
management as to be insensible to the charm of community life and the
call of the ministries of the Church? Such thoughts seem to have been
working in the mind of the bishop from the time of his arrival, and he
had corresponded with the C.M.S. from time to time on the subject. He
had hitherto said nothing, but when the governor appealed to him with
the plausible reasoning which he--an idealist also--could so skilfully
use, the bishop fell in with the proposal, and broke through the reserve
which he had hitherto maintained. Such, at least, is the explanation
which is suggested by a careful study of the facts. The conflict was one
of principles: communism against individualism. Like many other
reformers, Bishop Selwyn was strong when he exhibited the positive
aspects of the communistic ideal; he failed and became unjust when he
tried to force others into the same method of life.

The attack was made with great suddenness. The bishop brought the
archdeacon from the Bay of Islands to St. John's College, and there, on
September 4, in the midst of his own disciplinarian surroundings, handed
him a lengthy letter in which he revealed his long cherished opinions,
defended the Blood and Treasure despatch, and called upon the missionary
to accept the governor's terms. The startled archdeacon asked for proof
of the episcopal charges, but of course no proof was forthcoming. It was
a matter of prejudged guilt. The bishop was not skilful in the
negotiations, and at last lost his temper and demanded point-blank the
surrender of the deeds.[9] Henry Williams felt that he was unjustly
accused, and, still holding out for "substantiation or retractation,"
left the scene of the conference in a fit of indignation, which was
still further increased when he found that the unscrupulous governor had
been trying to stir up the Maoris of the Bay of Islands to claim the
restitution of their lands. Nothing but their strong affection and
loyalty towards "Te Wiremu" could have enabled them to resist this
appeal to their cupidity. But underhand dealing was the one thing that
Williams could not bear, and he would hold no more communication with
Governor Grey on the subject. His sons were of age: let them carry on
the struggle.

  [9] Archdeacon Williams' son-in-law, Mr. Hugh Carleton, has left it on
  record that the archdeacon and his family would at any time have given
  up the lands, if only the bishop had shown them some sympathy and
  publicly disavowed his concurrence with the governor's charges.

The year 1848 brought one ray of light to the unhappy "grantees." The
governor brought against one of them an action in the Supreme Court of
New Zealand. The two judges were friends of the bishop and of the
governor, but their verdict confirmed the missionaries in possession of
their land. The legal status thus acquired enabled Henry Williams to
convey the whole of the land which stood in his name to his family, and
thus to make quite clear to all the real state of the case. But the old
question of honour was still unsettled, and Williams sought for a public
enquiry both from the British Government and from the Missionary
Society. Both bodies, however, were under the influence of his foes, and
refused his request. Instead of enquiring into his wrongs, the C.M.S.,
misled by the constant accusations of the governor, resolved to end the
trouble by terminating the connection with their old and well-tried
servant.

This was a stunning blow. It was the Eve of Trinity Sunday, 1850, that
the letter came to Paihia, after a period so long that it had seemed as
though the trouble were at rest. Mrs. Williams has left on record the
feelings of herself and her husband on that Sunday: "The day was
beautiful in which we saw our old and much-loved home, all untouched in
Sabbath peace, for the last time. We told no one; all went on as usual;
but it was a great conflict to keep down the thoughts of our expulsion,
and all its attendant cruel injustice."

On the following Thursday the move was made. Amidst heavy rain the
family rode off to the inland farm at Pakaraka, where the sons were
already settled. The cavalcade was escorted by Pene Taui, the general
who had repulsed the British troops at Ohaeawai, and by Tamati Pukututu,
who had guarded the stores of the English in the same campaign. They had
fought on opposite sides in the war, but they were at one in their
devotion to Wiremu.

With the removal of Henry Williams, came to an end the Golden Age, or
influential period, of the Bay of Islands. Governor and bishop had both
left it, and the war had dealt its missions a blow from which they were
never to recover. The visitor to Paihia to-day sees a few silent houses
ranged along the quiet beach, and amongst them the ruins of the building
in which the first printing-press in New Zealand was set up. A church of
more modern date contains some remains of the early period, and at the
other end of the beach stands the dismantled house in which Carleton
lived and wrote. But the most enduring object is the fine granite cross
which was erected long afterwards by the Maori Church to the memory of
Henry Williams--"a Preacher of the Gospel of Peace, and a Father of the
Tribes."

  NOTE.--With regard to the rest of those whom Mr. Collier calls the
  "peccant missionaries" there is not much to be said. One of them,
  Clarke, was certainly treated with strange injustice. The governor
  brought an action against him in the Supreme Court, as already
  related. He did not defend himself, but was dismissed by the C.M.S. on
  a charge of having gone to law with the governor! A full list of the
  landgrants may be seen in Thompson's "Story of New Zealand," Vol. II.,
  p. 155. It is not pleasant reading; one could have wished that the
  missionaries had not been driven to acquire land as they did. Perhaps
  some of them were led on further than was wise or right. Taylor's
  claim for 50,000 acres was startling, but he bought the land at Henry
  Williams' request to save a war between two tribes who both claimed
  it. When the grants came to be legally made by Governor Fitzroy,
  Taylor received only 1,704 acres. Maunsell, Chapman, Hadfield, Morgan,
  Stack, and some others, never bought any land at all; and the amounts
  claimed by some of the others were very small. The total number of
  missionaries on the schedule is 36: the total number of acres granted
  is 66,713. It must be remembered that the families of the grantees
  were generally large, and that the quality of the land was usually
  very poor.



CHAPTER XI.

SACRIFICE AND HEALING.

(1850-1856).

  We must suffer for the sin of others as for our own; and in this
  suffering we find a healing and purifying power and element.
    --_Shorthouse._


The land-grant controversy did not, of course, occupy the whole of
Bishop Selwyn's time during the years of its painful and weary course.
The journeys by land and sea were still carried on, and were even
extended in their range. In 1848 the bishop sailed away eastward, out of
sight of land, in a small schooner of 21 tons, and after ten days
reached the Chathams; in 1849 he even ventured in the same vessel far to
the northward among the coral islands of Melanesia. In 1847 he had held
a second synod, and there were some cheering occurrences among the
Maoris, especially in the south-west district. At Otaki, for instance,
the bishop found 300 men, with Rauparaha at their head, engaged in
raising the great pillars of a splendid church, around which a town (to
be called "Hadfield") was being laid out. At Wanganui the Rev. R. Taylor
held remarkable Christmas gatherings each year. From every _pa_ on the
banks, a contingent, headed by its native teacher, would come down the
river to Wanganui. The thousands who thus assembled were publicly
examined for some days as to their Christian conduct, and some hundreds
were admitted to the Holy Communion, which had to be celebrated in the
open field. At one of these meetings two chiefs volunteered to carry the
Gospel to a hostile tribe at Taupo. They went, and were both murdered.
One of them, after being disabled, lingered from morning until sunset,
and all through these hours of agony was praying for his murderers that
they might receive the light.

But, on the whole, a note of sadness makes itself heard throughout the
period. Some of the missionaries, like Maunsell, can "watch the clouds
pass overhead," and thank God that the storms of war and of false
accusation leave them untouched. But none can feel altogether happy
amidst the troubles of his brethren. Hadfield is stricken with a mortal
illness, and lies helpless for four years in Wellington. Reay dies at
Waiapu, and Bolland at Taranaki. This last-named excellent priest was a
brother-in-law of the saintly Whytehead, and carried some of the elder
man's inspiring influence into the building and furnishing of the stone
church at New Plymouth. His death was greatly mourned by his people, as
well as by Selwyn, who confessed a special regard for this beautiful
portion of his diocese, and now felt that a holy memory had shed upon it
a peculiar lustre. Nelson was hardly keeping up to its early rate of
progress, and its central mound, instead of a church bore an ugly fort,
into which the nervous townsfolk passed over a drawbridge for their
Sunday worship. Wellington was still unsatisfactory, its one wooden
church serving for a congregation which was "neither so regular nor so
good" as might have been wished. Altogether the diocese appeared to the
bishop as "an inert mass which I am utterly unable to heave."

The fulcrum upon which the bishop depended in his efforts to heave the
mass was St. John's College, and the college at this time was bringing
troubles of its own. In 1847 it suffered a terrible visitation of
typhoid fever. The bishop's own two little boys were stricken, and a son
of Archdeacon W. Williams died. At one time no less than forty cases
were calling for the attention of the staff. Through the care of the
medical deacon, Dr. Purchas, the epidemic proved less deadly than had at
one time seemed inevitable; but its appearance showed the unwisdom of
combining a public hospital with an educational establishment. Even
without this special plague, the daily routine was too rigorous to be
maintained. English parents began to withdraw their sons from an
institution in which Maoris so largely predominated; the Maoris could be
kept at work only by constant supervision; the deacon schoolmasters, to
whom the duty of superintendence was committed, were more eager to begin
preaching than to perform thoroughly the humbler duties of the kitchen
and the field. Those who were willing to do the humble work found that
they had little time or energy left for intellectual pursuits. The ideal
was not practical. More and more it became evident that the very
continuance of the scheme depended upon the bishop himself. "Everything
in the way of system," he wrote, "from the cleaning of a knife upwards,
passes in some form or other through my mind." The result was "a turmoil
of much serving, which had in it more of Martha than of Mary"; and he
has to face the possibility of the failure of plans "conceived, it may
be, in pride rather than in faith."

But the communistic ideal still held the bishop's mind, and at one time
(1848) there seemed a prospect of its realisation in an unexpected
spot--the Chatham Islands. To this lonely field a Lutheran mission had
come in 1846, and the bishop sailed thither with great hopes of bringing
it into his system. He visited these German folk--five men and three
women--and found them indeed "living in that simple and primitive way
which is the true type of a missionary establishment. They seem to be as
one family, and to have all things in common." At first, it looked as
though their chief might consent to receive Holy Orders in the English
Church; but the negotiation fell through, and the bishop left the house
in sore vexation, being careful to wipe the dust of his feet on the
doormat as he passed. However admirable may have been its
constitution, this mission was never a success. Many churches were
standing in the island at this time, but the native Christians were
either Wesleyans, or they looked rather to far-distant Otaki than to the
German community at their doors.

[Illustration: ST. MATTHEW'S CHURCH, DUNEDIN.]

Otaki itself was the other spot where a prospect offered. The Maoris
there gave to the bishop 500 acres at Porirua for a college, which was
to be similar to St. John's. The gift was thankfully received, and hopes
were entertained of an establishment from which the deacons would go
forth to serve the chapelries around Wellington, as those at St. John's
ministered to the outlying suburbs of Auckland. But the attempt was
never seriously made. No man could carry on two such undertakings. The
bishop's words show the chastened feelings with which he approached the
project: "I have selected a site at Porirua, on which I hope, in
submission to Divine Providence, that Trinity College may be built; but
I have learned this lesson by the losses with which we have been
visited, not to presume upon anything that is not yet attained."

Such was the aspect of affairs in the critical year, 1850. Never had the
Church been less able to stand a shock, and the action of the C.M.S.
might have led to a dangerous schism. For Henry Williams was not the
only man who was affected. Two other agents, Clarke and Fairburn, were
included in the sentence of dismissal. The mission families were large,
and were so bound together by the ties of inter-marriage, that a
separation on a large scale seemed possible. But, thanks be to God, no
schism occurred. Some of the best of the missionaries, indeed, resolved
to leave the country, unless the intolerable imputation of treason and
bloodshed could be removed. William Williams ventured to England without
leave in order to vindicate the character of the mission, and,
especially, that of his own brother. The statement which he laid before
the authorities in London (1851) was so full and conclusive that the
committee at once passed a resolution absolving the mission from all
guilt in connection with the war. The archdeacon therefore resolved to
return to his post, although he could not induce the Committee to remove
the sentence which still lay upon his brother.

Henry Williams was thus marked out more distinctly than ever as the
piacular victim or scapegoat of the mission. And, indeed, his
deprivation seemed to have an expiatory effect. Once his dismissal had
been made, an improvement began all round. In the first place, the
bishop seems to have been genuinely sorry for the harsh action which he
himself had done much to bring about. The Society had gone further than
he intended, and now his pity was roused. He took no offence when his
archdeacon began to hold services in a barn at Pakaraka, nor when (in
1851) he opened a church which his sons had built and endowed with
one-tenth of their property. Patience had its right result, and by 1853
the ecclesiastical relations between the two were entirely cordial.
Henry Williams was no longer an agent of the C.M.S., but he was still
one of the diocesan clergy, and he was still an archdeacon. His own
ministrations seemed to gain in power and effectiveness. Stubborn old
pagan Maoris came to the services of his new church at Pakaraka. Kawiti,
the main upholder of ancient superstitions in the north, was there
baptised, and thither the remains of Hone Heke were brought to be
deposited near his old master. On one occasion no less than 130 Maoris
were baptised by Williams at one time.

With the bishop and the church also, there was a new beginning in a more
chastened spirit. Before the end of the same year (1850) the bishop had
attended an episcopal meeting in Sydney, where he was able to secure the
support of the Australian Church for his infant mission to Melanesia. A
few months later he welcomed his old Eton friend, C. J. Abraham, to
whose able charge he committed St. John's College. But greater than
either of these events, if regard be had to the permanent progress of
the Church, was the arrival in New Zealand, during the month of
December, of the first instalment of the Canterbury Pilgrims.

The colony which they had come to found was intended to be something
different from anything yet seen in New Zealand or in any other part of
the British Empire. It was to be a reproduction on a small scale of
England itself, as England might be supposed to be if its poverty, its
crime, and its sectarian divisions could be eliminated. It was not a
missionary undertaking in the ordinary sense of that noble word, nor was
it intended as an outlet for revolutionary spirits. It was rather an
attempt to get away from revolution, and to return to something of the
feudal organisation. The settlement was to have a bishop, but he was to
have nothing in common with the occupant of an ordinary "vulgar"
colonial see. He was to be a scholarly and well-endowed prelate, with a
small and compact diocese in which there should be no dissenters, but
where an aristocratic gentry and a loyal peasantry should be watched
over by a numerous and well-paid clergy. To attract such a class there
must be not only fertile land and easy means of communication, but also
good churches and good schools. Churches and schools must therefore be
provided, and that on a generous scale. The price of land must be fixed
high enough to allow of a large sum being set aside for the endowment of
religion and education.

Such were the views of Edward Gibbon Wakefield, in whose fertile brain
the scheme originated. But he alone could never have carried it out. The
New Zealand Company, with which he was still co-operating, had become
discredited, and Wakefield himself did not stand well with Selwyn, whom
he had never forgiven for going over (as he expressed it) from the side
of the colonists to that of the missionaries. He must therefore secure
the help of someone who would be trusted by the class which he wished
to attract. The person whom he called to his counsels was John Robert
Godley, a man of acute intellect and wide knowledge, of aristocratic
connection and of real religious conviction. He was something of a
dreamer, but his dreams were always noble ones. By his enthusiasm he was
able to enlist the sympathies of several influential men among his old
Christ Church (Oxford) friends. The revolutionary year, 1848, helped the
project, and in the year following, Godley himself went out to New
Zealand to prepare for the emigrants. This was an opportunity for trying
to bring about an understanding with Bishop Selwyn. Mr. Gladstone, who
was then Colonial Secretary, wrote to Godley: "You are the man, if any,
to put colonising operations from this country into harmony with the
bishop. If he can be got to look at the New Zealand Company
propitiously, I hope all may go well."

One part, then, of Godley's mission was to "capture" the bishop. It was
not long before the bishop captured Godley. The natures and ideals of
the two men were, in fact, fundamentally akin. Simplicity of life, a
self-denying clergy, the spiritual independence of the Church--these
were no less dear to the Canterbury leader than they were to the bishop
himself. There was all the greater necessity for insistence upon them
from the actual circumstances of the colonists. In spite of its
aristocratic patrons, the Association was not successful in selling much
of its land. There was no money wherewith to build the promised churches
and schools nor to pay the clergy. Instead of finding themselves in the
receipt of assured stipends, these luckless men were often reduced to
something like destitution. The trouble had been partly foreseen, and
the Association had tried to find clergy possessed of private means.
Some of the clerical immigrants were thus endowed, and they were able to
render considerable service. But the system was repugnant to Godley. He
found himself confronted with the same problem as had met Selwyn in the
north. To the Association it appeared that such a body of clergy "with
their possession of private estate, and its necessary occupation and
management, would resemble the condition of a large portion of the
English clergy as holders of glebe and tythes." To Godley, on the other
hand, it appeared that such men would be "primarily settlers and
landowners, and but secondarily priests."

This was not the only point on which Godley found himself at variance
with his friends in London. In their eagerness to secure clergy of
position for their colony, these had actually taken upon themselves to
appoint a dean and canons for what was still a part of Selwyn's diocese.
This step excited the indignation of the bishop. He was further angered
by what he considered an unworthy attempt to interfere with the
spiritual functions of the episcopal office. In a letter to Godley he
complains bitterly of the "Erastianism" of this action, and of the
attempt to make him an accomplice in such proceedings. "It is not my
business," he wrote, "to censure the Association, but I must decline all
further correspondence with them." This letter was written on May 6,
1851, and it seems to have kindled into flame Godley's smouldering
wrath. On the 10th of June he sent off a despatch in which he took up
exactly the same ground as the bishop, and resigned his office as a
protest against the policy of the Association. His action had the
desired effect; the shadowy "dean and canons of Lyttelton" vanished into
obscurity, and the Association itself shortly afterwards came to an end.
It was composed of many noble and high-minded men; but, as one of them
put it, they were an "association of amateurs," and they made mistakes
more through ignorance than through design. Wakefield taunted his former
ally with the "delirious inconsistency" of his behaviour, but Godley
himself felt (like Browning's Rabbi) that

  This rage was right i' the main--

though he regretted the vehemence of his language: "That I protested
abruptly, rudely, unfeelingly, and in such a way as justly to annoy
those whom I ought to have cut my right hand off sooner than give pain
to, I shall never cease to deplore; but of the protest itself I cannot
repent. And if (as I believe) it had the effect of determining the
Association to resign its functions immediately and entirely, I shall
always hold that I have by _that_ step conferred a greater benefit on
the colony than by any other step that I have ever taken in its
concerns."

Though helping thus to break up the government of the new colony, Bishop
Selwyn fairly captured the affections of the colonists themselves. He
arrived at Lyttelton within a few days of their landing, and held a
meeting with the four clergy who had then arrived. He was with them
again in February, and again in the following November, when he laid
down directions for the management of their ecclesiastical concerns. In
the bitter disappointment caused by the repeated failure to secure a
bishop of their own, the clergy and laity of Canterbury were all the
more ready to welcome the help and advice of one who, like Melchizedek,
met them with the bread and wine of human kindness and of divine
ministration. They were jealously sensitive of their independence, and
of their reputation as being the Church Settlement _par excellence_, but
Selwyn treated them with wise consideration. He removed one inefficient
priest to the North Island; he urged the Christchurch clergy to interest
themselves in the few Maori villages of Banks Peninsula; he gave his
warm approval to the establishment of daily services at Lyttelton; but
for the most part he left the direction of affairs (after the departure
of Mr. Godley) in the hands of his commissary, Archdeacon Mathias. So
charmed were the colonists with the bishop's personality that it became
a constant saying among them that "the fractional part we are actually
enjoying of Bishop Selwyn is better than a whole new bishop to
ourselves."

The limits of this book permit of little beyond a bare mention of the
Melanesian Mission, which during the years 1850 to 1853 was being
successfully prosecuted. This was Bishop Selwyn's own idea; the islands
were virgin soil; and their teeming peoples afforded an abundant outlet
for the bishop's missionary zeal, which was rather hampered in New
Zealand itself by the presence of the older missionaries. Every voyage
resulted in some dark-skinned youths being brought to St. John's College
for Christian education with the Maori and English scholars.

Vigorous and successful, however, as were the operations in the distant
corners of the field, they were balanced by heavy trials nearer home. In
1851 the bishop lost by an early death his only daughter, and in 1853 a
storm of evil swept through his college, and nearly broke the spirit of
its founder. Two of his most trusted helpers flagrantly betrayed their
trust; their evil influence spread to others, and for a time the whole
establishment was dispersed. Indeed the Maori portion never reassembled.
One student had stood out with conspicuous faithfulness amidst the
general falling away, and this man (Rota Waitoa) the bishop now ordained
to the diaconate--the first of his race to receive Holy Orders. On the
last day of this "year of sorrow," the bishop and his family left the
now partially dismantled college for a visit to England. They never
lived in the old home after their return, and this moment may be
considered as the end of the communistic experiment which had been so
hopefully begun at Waimate in 1843. Like Marsden's seminary at
Parramatta, this also had failed, and for the same reasons.

When the bishop arrived in London on May 5th, 1855, he met with a warm
reception, and forthwith proceeded to carry out his policy of
conciliation. Together with Sir George Grey, he visited the Church
Missionary House, and pleaded with the Society for the reinstatement of
Archdeacon Henry Williams. The Society had by this time come to realise
the error of its action, for many of its supporters throughout the
country had been agitating for an enquiry. The Committee were therefore
not unwilling to accede to the wishes of the two august visitors, and a
letter was soon sent to New Zealand, asking the archdeacon to overlook
the past, and to take once more his honoured place on the staff of the
mission. Henry Williams accepted the overture--tardy as it was--and from
his residence at Pakaraka continued to carry on his old work during the
remainder of his life.

But the bishop did more than render justice to one ill-used helper. He
won over the Society itself to his side by proposing to establish three
new bishoprics in New Zealand, each of which should have a missionary as
its first head. The scheme was never fully carried out, as the course of
our history will show; but its non-fulfilment was due to circumstances
which could not at the moment be foreseen.

In the larger world of English life, also, the bishop made his mark. A
course of Advent sermons before the University of Cambridge had a
wonderful effect in stimulating the interest of the Church in foreign
missions. An appeal for funds for Melanesia resulted in £10,000 being
raised within a few weeks, and also in the gift of a new ship for the
island work; a letter to a young friend who remembered Selwyn's parting
sermon in 1841 secured the noble and saintly Patteson for the same
mission; an interview with another of his early friends--Henry Harper,
vicar of the Berkshire village of Strathfield Mortimer--won from this
humble parish priest the promise to come out to New Zealand for the
bishopric of Christchurch, as soon as a duly authorised request should
be forthcoming. Altogether, Selwyn was able to feel that his visit had
been successful in its objects, and he returned to his diocese in 1855
with new heart for the work, and new means for its effective
prosecution.

As soon as possible after his arrival he proceeded to Canterbury, and
once more convened a meeting of its principal churchmen. Ecclesiastical
affairs had not prospered in this settlement as its promoters had
anticipated. Godley had left in 1852, and the diocese had become wearied
with the continual disappointment of its hopes of seeing a bishop of its
own. The meeting at first urged Selwyn himself to take the position of
Bishop of Christchurch, and on his refusing this offer, a unanimous
resolution was carried in favour of his friend and nominee, the Rev.
Henry John Chitty Harper. By Christmas, 1856, the new bishop had
arrived, and was installed on Christmas Day in the little pro-Cathedral
of St. Michael, Christchurch, amidst the eager expectation of the
community. Selwyn was present at the arrival of his friend, and also at
the installation service. At last he was able to hand over some part of
his diocese to an episcopal colleague: that colleague, moreover, being a
man whom he had known in his early days, and from whom he had received
his own first impulse towards the work of the ministry.

At peace with Henry Williams and the other missionaries; at peace with
the Church Missionary Society; at peace with the Canterbury colonists,
and secure in the loyal friendship of their bishop; he could now press
forward with a project which had long occupied his thoughts, viz., the
binding together of the varied elements of the Church into one united
and organised whole.

  NOTE.--As throwing light upon the proposed bishoprics mentioned in
  this chapter, and also as showing the thoughts which were at this time
  passing through Bishop Selwyn's mind, it may be well to quote the
  following passage from a letter written by him in England to his
  friend the Rev. E. Coleridge (Aug. 14, 1854):

  "If the organisation of the New Zealand Church had been a little more
  advanced towards completion, I should gladly have availed myself of
  the consent already obtained to the appointment of the Venerable
  Archdeacon Abraham to succeed me in the See of Auckland; the
  archdeaconries of Wellington, Waiapu, and Tauranga being, as it is
  proposed, erected into bishoprics, and placed under the episcopal care
  of the present Archdeacons Hadfield, W. Williams, and Brown. Knowing
  the difficulties which are thought to stand in the way of the creation
  of missionary bishoprics, I should then have gladly undertaken the
  charge of Melanesia as my own diocese, retaining only such an interest
  in New Zealand as might connect me still with the councils of its
  Church, and give me a central home and resting-place among my own
  countrymen."

  The boldness and grandeur of this scheme have hardly been sufficiently
  realised. An ecclesiastical province divided into small dioceses, with
  missionaries at their head, and its primate spending his time in the
  foreign mission field: what an object lesson to the whole Church New
  Zealand would have presented!



CHAPTER XII.

ORGANISATION AND PROGRESS.

(1850-1859).

  The inward life must not be separated in practice from the external
  unity of the body of Christ. The law of unity is the essence of its
  strength, its purity, and its holiness.
    --_Bishop Selwyn._


"The urgent necessity of mutual communion for preservation of our unity
... maketh it requisite that the Church of God here on earth have her
_laws_." So wrote the judicious Hooker in that immortal work which came
to Bishop Selwyn as a legacy from his great predecessor, Samuel Marsden.
The bishop himself was well aware of this necessity. We have seen how he
tried to bind the missionaries to himself by calling them together in
synods in 1844 and in 1847. The canons which were passed by these
gatherings were doubtless of some importance, but their chief value lay
in the spirit of _unity_ which they were calculated to evoke.

Legitimate and natural, however, as such gatherings must seem to us,
they threw the Committee of the Church Missionary Society into
"transports of alarm." In England the synodical action of the Church had
been so long silenced, that any attempt to revive it was regarded as an
act of priestly assumption, and an affront to the supremacy of the royal
power. But Selwyn's action was only a little in advance of the time. In
all the colonies, men were feeling after some form of church government
by which laws could be made and unity preserved. The bishops were sent
out from the mother Church with Royal Letters Patent, which seemed to
confer upon their holders almost absolute power, but the colonies
possessed no machinery by which this power could be enforced; and it was
evident that some method must be devised by which the different members
of the Church could be brought together, and enabled to make laws for
its governance and well-being.

The method followed by Bishop Selwyn was that which he derived from the
primitive Church. The bishop and his clergy formed a "synod" which could
enact "canons" for the regulation of the faithful. But something more
was evidently needed; and this, too, seemed to spring into existence in
the memorable year 1850, which marked in so many ways the turn of the
tide in the New Zealand Church.

The self-same month which witnessed the departure of Henry Williams from
Paihia, beheld his great antagonist, Sir George Grey, laid upon a bed of
sickness at New Plymouth. There is no absolute proof that the
archdeacon's case was consciously before the governor's mind, though it
is hard to think that it was not. But it is certain that his thoughts
were drawn at this juncture to the question of the government and unity
of the Church. As Bishop Selwyn put it long afterwards: "There was
something more touching in the origin of that constitution than persons
are generally aware of. The first draft of the present constitution was
drawn by Sir George Grey on a sick bed at Taranaki; and it was the fruit
of those feelings which come upon the mind in sickness, when a man sets
aside thoughts of government and the cares of this world, and knows, as
a Christian man, that he has something better to think of than the
perishable things of this life. His Excellency has produced what has
been of great spiritual benefit to the Church in this country."

The chief point about the governor's scheme was the inclusion of the
laity in the government of the Church. Of course this was not an
altogether original feature. It had already been adopted by the
American branch of the Anglican communion. During the years that
followed the promulgation of Grey's scheme, American theological halls
were echoing to such sentiments as this: "The power of self-government
is advocated over all the Colonial Churches of the British Empire. Why
is it that the Churches in New Zealand and New South Wales are demanding
synodical action and lay representation? It is _our_ influence and _our_
example." The American origin of the Grey document is clearly shown by
the term "Convention," which was used to describe the proposed
legislative body. The bishops were to sit apart in one house; clerical
and lay representatives were to sit together, but to vote separately, in
another. The provisions of the document were simply but clearly drawn,
and they foreshadow in most points the completed constitution of 1857.
One matter of detail was allowed to creep into the fundamental
provisions: church pews might be appropriated, but not charged for!

When Selwyn received this draft, he at once expressed his willingness to
adopt it if it should be supported by a considerable number of
churchpeople. The governor therefore set himself to secure signatures to
a letter urging its acceptance upon the bishop. In this he succeeded
beyond his expectations. In Auckland the letter was signed by "the
General, the Chief Justice, the principal military officers, by all the
clergy in the neighbourhood, by all the principal merchants who are
members of our Church, and by a large number of other persons." The
total, in fact, reached 94; and the column is headed by the simple
signatures, "G. Grey," and "Wm. Martin." A good body of signatures was
appended from Taranaki, Wanganui, and Nelson; none from Wellington or
the eastern district. The names of the brothers Williams, of course, do
not appear, but some of the other missionaries were found willing to
sign--Kissling, Maunsell, Morgan, Ashwell, and Taylor.

With this document the bishop sailed for Sydney, to attend the meeting
of bishops already referred to. The Australian prelates were entirely in
favour of synodical action, but they were not prepared to follow the
Grey scheme in its entirety. Their plan was for bishop and clergy to
constitute a "synod" (as in ancient times), but that lay representatives
should at the same time hold a "convention," which should have the right
of veto on certain of the decisions of the "synod." As the name "G. A.
New Zealand" appears among the list of signatories, it may be presumed
that he concurred in this rather clumsy scheme; but in the following
year he acted in the opposite direction by inviting Mr. Godley and
another layman to sit in conference with the clergy of the diocese of
Christchurch.

The points of difference between the rival schemes do not appear in the
next act. In 1852 the bishop put forth a pastoral letter, in which he
called the attention of the churchmen of New Zealand to the absolute
necessity for providing some church authority. The colony had just
received its civil constitution: the Church must have one too. As to
whether laymen should sit with the clergy or not, the bishop leaves the
matter open. But he adopts a proviso upon which both Sir George Grey and
the Australian bishops had insisted, viz., that whatever convention or
synod might be set up, it should have no power to alter the doctrine and
ritual of the Church of England, or the Authorised Version of the Bible.

No point in the final constitution of the New Zealand Church has been
more criticised than this. What was the precise object of its insertion?
Of course, the natural conservatism of the churchly mind would account
for much, but not for all. What national church ever before tied its own
hands in this deliberate way? But was the Church of New Zealand to be a
national church? That was exactly the point which had chief influence
with the statesmen and lawyers to whom the constitution is mainly due.
To them the Royal Supremacy stood first. Nothing must be done which
could in any way infringe upon the prerogatives of the Crown. Only in
the possible case of a separation of Church and State in England, or in
the case of a political separation of New Zealand from the Mother
Country, could there be any liberty in these all-important points.
_Then_ the liberty might be absolute and complete.

But there was one man in New Zealand who saw farther than the rest.
Godley would have none of the Grey scheme, and he persuaded his fellow
churchmen of Canterbury to put forth a protest against it. Any plan for
the government of the Church should emanate (they argued) from the
episcopate, and should be dutifully accepted by the faithful. They
themselves would therefore refrain from any detailed suggestions, but
they strongly maintained the right of even the infant Church of New
Zealand to deal, if necessary, with questions of doctrine and ritual,
and even of the translation of the Scriptures. Cordially as they were
attached to their Prayer Book and to their Bible, they yet could foresee
a time when occasion might arise for change.

What Selwyn's own feeling on this matter might be, it is not easy to
discover. But as, in their conversations at Lyttelton, he and Mr. Godley
always found themselves in agreement, it seems not unlikely that on this
point also the minds of the two men were in accord. But the bishop could
not do as he would in this as in many other matters. The Committee of
the C.M.S. had already taken alarm at a step which seemed likely to
separate the colonial Church from that of the Mother Country, and they
sent out instructions to their missionaries forbidding them to take part
in the proposed convention.[10] This was one of the reasons which
prompted the visit of the bishop to England in 1854. Before he set sail,
however, he had called meetings in all the different centres of
population; at these meetings he had laid his scheme before the Church,
and he had carefully codified the criticisms which were offered. In most
localities the draft was accepted as it stood. Auckland seems to have
devised the idea of uniting bishop, clergy, and laity in one chamber.
Christchurch had lost its man of insight through Godley's departure, and
it now swung round into a merely conservative position. It joined with
the rest of the settlements in insisting upon the principle of the Grey
scheme, by which the Prayer Book and Authorised Version of the Bible
were declared to be outside the powers of any New Zealand synod.

  [10] Even as late as the year 1866 the Secretary of the C.M.S. (the
  Rev. Henry Venn) could write out to New Zealand: "If all the colonial
  churches are to be made free, the Church of England would be ruined as
  a missionary church. The people of England would never send out
  missionaries to be under Free Bishops."

The disappearance of Godley, with his visions of independence, made the
task of the bishop more easy when he confronted the Committee of the
Church Missionary Society. He was able to assure these cautious men as
to the inoffensive character of his proposals. "The Committee now
understood," writes their historian, Dr. Eugene Stock, "that no
separation from the Church of England was intended; that the Queen's
supremacy was recognised; that questions of doctrine and ritual would be
excluded from the purview of the synods; and that the interests of the
Maori Christians would be cared for." They accordingly withdrew their
former instructions, and now signified their approval of the
missionaries joining with the bishop in the proposed organisation of the
Church.

This concession formed the answer of the Committee to Selwyn's proposal
to found the missionary bishoprics mentioned in the last chapter, and it
removed one of the most formidable obstacles in the way of a
constitution. Another obstacle, hardly less formidable, disappeared of
itself during the year after the bishop's return. This was the
difficulty of obtaining State sanction for the proposed authority. Many
attempts had been made by Mr. Gladstone and others to procure such
sanction from the Imperial Parliament; but in 1856 the English legal
authorities discovered, what seems so obvious now, that no State
authorisation would be needed if the system could be based simply on
voluntary compact. If any colonial Church wished to make rules for its
own government, it was quite at liberty to do so, provided that these
rules were held to apply only to such persons as were willing to be
bound by them. Thus then it happened that, as the moral and personal
obstacles were removed by patience and Christian wisdom, the legal ones
fell of themselves, and now there remained no hindrance to the calling
of a conference for the final settlement of the matter.

[Illustration: SOME CANTERBURY CHURCHES.
  St. Lukes, Christchurch.
  Holy Trinity, Lyttelton.
  St. Mary's, Timaru.
  St. Peter's, Riccarton.
  St. John's, Hororata.
  St. Stephens, Ashburton.
  Christchurch Cathedral.
  St. Paul's, Glenmark.
  Holy Trinity, Avonside.]

The conference met on May 14, 1857, in the little stone chapel of St.
Stephen, near the residence of Sir William Martin, at Auckland. The
occasion was felt to be one of extreme importance. Never before had the
different elements of which the Church was composed been brought face to
face together. Christchurch sent its new bishop and the Rev. J. Wilson.
Archdeacon Abraham stood for the Selwyn type of clergy. Sir William
Martin's thoughtful face was absent, but his views would be voiced by
his friend Mr. Swainson, the former Attorney-General. Now that the
Church was to be separated from the State, and organised on a voluntary
basis, it is somewhat surprising to find the government of the day so
strongly represented. The Premier (Stafford), the Attorney-General
(Whitaker), and Mr. H. J. Tancred, the Postmaster-General, are all
there. To balance these new men, we see the missionaries Maunsell,
Brown, and Kissling. But still something is needed. Where are the
leaders of former days? A sense of satisfaction is experienced when at
last the brothers Williams enter together and take their seats. "All
were very kind," wrote Archdeacon Henry, "and we were much pleased with
the benevolent countenance of the Bishop of Christchurch."

The sittings of the conference lasted for five weeks. The long
preliminary discussions had cleared up most of the points in advance:
there was no question as to the desirableness of laymen taking an equal
part with bishops and clergy in the proposed synods, nor was there any
hesitation in pronouncing unalterable the provision which exempted the
formularies of the Church and the Authorised Version of the Bible from
synodical handling. But there were two points on which opinions differed
widely. Canterbury insisted on diocesan independence, and the power of
managing its own property. This claim was not thoroughly dealt with by
the conference, and was destined to give trouble in the future. The real
struggle lay between the group of Auckland laymen and the president, on
the qualification to be required of those who should represent the laity
in synods, and of those who should select them by their votes.

Two views were held, then as now, on this important matter. One side
would limit the Church to such as are in full communion with her, and
are actively interested in her welfare. The other would embrace within
her fold as many as possible, even if their churchmanship and their
Christianity should be but nominal. Bishop Selwyn took the former view,
and in this attitude he would doubtless be supported by the missionary
representatives, who were accustomed to a strict discipline in the Maori
Church. Canterbury also stood on the same side. Godley himself had been
its ardent advocate, and on this point at least his principles were not
abandoned after his departure. They had even been accentuated by the
Canterbury declaration of 1853, in which it was urged that the
ecclesiastical franchise should be confined to persons who should not
only declare themselves communicants of the Church, but should also
disavow membership in any other religious denomination. This stringent
requirement probably arose from an experience which Archdeacon Mathias
mentions in a letter to Lord Lyttelton. Many had come out at the
Association's expense as "Church of England" members, who yet turned out
to be "professed dissenters," and some of them "dissenting preachers."
The religious unity of the settlement was thus rendered impossible, and
one of the aims of its founders defeated at the outset.

On this point therefore--a point of far more importance to the Church
than the property question, which attracted the greater attention at the
time--the bishop would be supported by the missionary clergy and by the
Canterbury representatives. But he met with firm resistance from the
Auckland laymen. These were men of "a fine conservative temperament,"
and they would agree to no proposal which should make the Church in New
Zealand less comprehensive than the State-governed Church of the Mother
Country. Their view is thus expressed by Carleton: The bishop "would
have made the Church of England a close borough, to which formal
admittance under rules prescribed would be required; the laymen, on the
other hand, held that every baptised Englishman enjoyed church
membership as a matter of course and right, until he should think fit to
declare dissent."

Both of these opposing views have much to say for themselves; for both
of them great names may be quoted in support. At the Auckland
Conference, as throughout the whole after-history of our Church, it was
the lay (or Arnoldian) view that triumphed: "The bishop, seeing no
eagerness on the part of the laity, but, on the contrary, much quiet and
thoughtful criticism, gave way upon every main point of difference,
gracefully enough. Failure of cherished schemes had changed him much.
But he was bent upon carrying something, and by gentle management he
did. A scheme of fair working promise, with little to take exception to,
was the result."

The document which was solemnly put forth on June 13th, 1857, as the
"CONSTITUTION for associating together, as a Branch of the United Church
of England and Ireland, the members of the said Church in the Colony of
New Zealand," carried at its foot seventeen signatures, which are not
the least interesting part of the whole. To those who follow the history
of the Church, both before and after this promulgation of her
authoritative act of government, what thoughts are suggested by the
first four names of the list: "G. A. New Zealand," "H. J. C.
Christchurch," "Henry Williams," "William Williams"! What controversies
past and future, what agonies of mind, what silent heroism, what
spiritual conquests, what believing prayer!

A word must be said, however, on the legal aspect of this constitution.
As the early Christian congregations in the Roman Empire sometimes found
it advisable to register themselves as burial clubs, since only thus
could they obtain any legal status, so, in order to obtain a recognised
position in the eyes of the law, the Church in New Zealand found it
necessary to appear simply as a holder of trust property. Bishop Selwyn
had prepared for this move by procuring the passing of an Act by the
Legislative Assembly in 1856, which enabled any body of trustees to be
incorporated in proper form. In 1858 the Church of New Zealand was
formally brought under this enactment. This fact accounts for the rather
conspicuous place which the property element holds in the constitution
document. It was the one legal basis which was possible in the
circumstances of the case. The endowments of the Church are held on
condition of the observance of the provisions of the constitution by
those who enjoy any of the proceeds of that property. In the eye of the
law, the Church of this Dominion stands on precisely the same footing as
any other body for which any property is held in trust.

Now that the Church had been set upon her feet (to use Mr. Gladstone's
words to Godley), after the stilts of government support had been
knocked away, it remained to be seen how she would walk. The first duty
was to carry out the concordat which Selwyn had made with the C.M.S.,
and to found the missionary bishoprics. The scheme had been disallowed
in 1854 by the Colonial Office, but now the way was open. The proposed
diocese of Tauranga, indeed, was never pushed forward, but the others
were soon set on foot. The new diocese of Wellington was offered to
Archdeacon Hadfield, but his continued ill-health prevented his
acceptance. The bishop therefore proposed the name of his talented and
cultured friend, Archdeacon Abraham. The proposal was at once accepted
by the Wellington churchmen, and the archdeacon proceeded to England for
his consecration. Nelson also claimed a bishop of its own, and for this
difficult post Selwyn recommended his friend Edmund Hobhouse, then Vicar
of St. Peter-in-the-East at Oxford. This devoted man was also a fellow
of Merton College in the University, and he had narrowly missed being
appointed to the see of Christchurch two years before. With great
physical strength, which enabled him to walk 30 or 40 miles a day,
Hobhouse was yet a constant sufferer from headache, but his deep piety
and his solid learning well qualified him for the episcopal office. The
two bishops-elect were consecrated together (still under Letters Patent)
on Michaelmas Day, 1858, and arrived in New Zealand during the first
General Synod, which met under the new constitution in the city of
Wellington in the month of March, 1859.

The most interesting feature of this gathering was the inauguration of a
fifth bishopric--that of Waiapu. In this case the bishop's original
plan was carried out in its exactitude, for no one but the
"episcopally-minded" William Williams could well be thought of for such
a post. The Letters Patent were brought out from England by Bishop
Abraham, and the consecration was held, during the course of the
session, in the little St. Paul's Church, on Sunday, April 3.[11] A
unique feature of the service arose from the fact that the four
consecrating bishops were all younger than the veteran upon whom they
laid their hands. The new bishop was "one whose age and experience,"
said Selwyn in his opening address, "has often made me feel ashamed that
I should have been preferred before him, and to whom I have long wished
to be allowed to make this reparation, by dividing with him the duties
and responsibilities of my office." "It was a most delightful day," he
afterwards wrote, "and one that I little expected to see when I first
came to New Zealand. All seemed to be so thoroughly happy and satisfied
with the appointment of the new bishops, as much as if each settlement
had chosen its own bishop from personal knowledge.... I shall now go
back to Auckland light in heart ... and I hope to be enabled by God's
blessing to prosecute the mission work with more vigour in consequence
of the cutting off of the southern portions of New Zealand."

  [11] It is a matter for regret that the scene of this first episcopal
  consecration in New Zealand can no longer be pointed out. The church
  stood, opposite the Museum, on government land which now forms part of
  the grounds surrounding the Parliament buildings. But portions of the
  structure were removed to the Bolton-street cemetery, and still form
  part of the mortuary chapel there.

This day of happiness marks the end of a distinct epoch in our history.
The decade which began in 1850 amidst confusion and disunion, had
brought year by year some healing strengthening power, until it closed
with a united Church, an increased clergy, and a multiplied episcopate.

Not a day too soon was the constitutional fabric finished. Already the
clouds were gathering which heralded the coming storm.



CHAPTER XIII.

TROUBLE AND ANGUISH.

(1859-1862).

  Cheerful, with friends, we set forth:
  Then, on the height, comes the storm!
    --_M. Arnold._


The period which begins with the year 1860 presents an aspect so
desolate that it is hard at first to find a single cheering feature. The
prospect which seemed so bright in 1859 is quickly obscured by mist and
storm. Guiding-posts are hard to find; the faces of friends seem hostile
in the gloom; voices of appeal sound dim and confused amidst the moan of
the tempest.

How little did Selwyn think on that autumn day in 1859 when, from his
presidential chair, he looked in gladness of heart upon his four new
bishops, that at the same hour a bolt was being forged by the Government
in Auckland which would shatter the most hopeful of his plans! How
little could he expect that, of the bishops before him, one (Williams)
would be driven from his home, and another (Hobhouse) harried from his
diocese; or that he himself would be mobbed and insulted, turned back on
roads which he had been accustomed to travel, fired at by men who had
hitherto listened obediently to his words! How little could he foresee
the ruined churches, the abandoned missions, the apostacy of the tribes,
or the closing of large tracts of country against himself and his
clergy! How incredible would have seemed the intelligence that amongst
his flock a heresy would arise which should demand the life of a
Christian minister as an acceptable sacrifice!

Yet, though at first everything looks uniformly dark and hopeless, the
eye comes in time to form a truer picture. Shapes of strange
magnificence make themselves dimly visible; noble characters appear all
the grander for the strain through which they pass; principles and
ideals through stern conflict are tested and displayed. Half a century
has well-nigh passed since the events took place; the chief actors have
disappeared from the earthly scene; a calmer and more discriminating
treatment ought now to be possible than could be secured amidst the
passions of racial and political strife.

[Illustration: MAP OF THE BAY OF ISLANDS DISTRICT.]

At first it seemed as though the new constitution were destined to work
smoothly. The organisation and first meeting of the General Synod was
followed up by the calling together of the clergy and laity of the
various dioceses in local synods--each under the presidency of its
bishop. In 1861 Selwyn took advantage of the newly-acquired
ecclesiastical freedom to consecrate John Coleridge Patteson to the
missionary bishopric of Melanesia; and this saintly man went forth to
the ten years of faithful work which were to be brought to a sudden
close by his martyrdom in 1871. At the end of the same year (1861)
Bishop Williams called together a synod of the diocese of Waiapu, at
which nearly all the members belonged to the native race, and all the
proceedings were conducted in the native tongue. An opportunity was thus
afforded for that sagacity in counsel and that eloquence of speech for
which the Maori race was famed.

But the opportunity came too late. Maori Christianity had been left so
long in an unorganised and immature condition that it had begun to
develop itself on lines of its own. The march of events had brought
about a situation which was only partially foreseen, and, even if
foreseen, could hardly perhaps have been prevented. The subject is one
of peculiar difficulty, but as it has a direct bearing on problems of
to-day, an attempt must be made to elucidate its main features.

The organisation of the New Zealand Church seemed to leave no place for
the rule of the Church Missionary Society. Selwyn wished it to resign
its lands and its agents immediately into the hands of the general
synod. The Society was not quite ready to do this, but it began to
withdraw in a gradual way. It sent out few, if any, fresh missionaries
to take the places of those who had died or retired, and it began to
curtail its monetary grants. It had spent (according to Mr. Swainson's
estimate) some quarter of a million pounds on New Zealand: it might well
ask, Had not the time arrived for its funds to be employed elsewhere?

But if the white missionaries were to be allowed gradually to depart,
their places must be taken by natives of the country. Year after year
the Society was urgent in asking for the ordination of Maoris, not only
to the diaconate but also to the priesthood, in order that the Maori
Christians might have an opportunity of receiving the Holy Communion at
least once a quarter. But this the bishop would not do. He was
favourable to such a policy in the abstract, but he and the missionaries
themselves were so much impressed with the educational and social
deficiencies of even the best of the Maori converts, that they shrank
from their admission to Holy Orders. Selwyn had hoped that St. John's
College would have supplied him with men of higher education and more
civilised habits, but his expectations had been dashed by the dispersion
of 1853, and his confidence was slow to spring again.

On his return from England, he had opened a theological college for
Maoris at Parnell, where the married students might live in separate
cottages, and where they might have the benefit of the freely-given
instructions of Sir William Martin. But none of the candidates were
considered fit for Holy Orders, and up to 1860 the Bishop had ordained
but one deacon beside Rota Waitoa. If it had not been for another small
college which was begun by the Rev. W. L. Williams at Waerenga-a-hika,
and which enabled Bishop Williams, soon after his consecration, to
ordain six Maoris to the diaconate, the number of native clergy at the
opening of this period would have been small indeed.

The necessity for more ordinations was the chief reason why the Church
Missionary Society so earnestly advocated an increase of bishops. The
establishment of the diocese of Waiapu certainly justified their hope to
a large extent, for not only did Bishop Williams admit a number of
Maoris to the ministry, but his example encouraged Selwyn himself to go
forward more boldly. His reluctance was due partly to sad experience,
partly to his own high ideals; and it would seem to afford another
instance of the truth which his career so often exemplified, "The best
is the enemy of the good." Some of the men who were to play leading
parts in the coming time were among those whom his strictness rejected.

Chief among these was that Tamihana Tarapipipi who appeared before us in
an earlier chapter. From the light-hearted youthfulness of the "bonnet"
episode, this young son of the great Waharoa had passed into a grave and
thoughtful manhood. After his father's death, his ability had led to his
being elected chief instead of his elder brother. Together with a strong
desire for knowledge there was a certain _dourness_ in Tamihana's
nature, and when he applied for admission to St. John's College, a
question is said to have arisen about smoking. The rules of the
institution prohibited this pleasant vice, and Tamihana would not give
up his pipe. Strange to think of the tremendous consequences which
flowed from that simple refusal!

Thrown back upon himself, and seeing no teacher but Archdeacon Brown,
who visited Matamata from time to time, the young thinker formed his
ideals alone. Experience soon taught him the necessity of _law_.
Loose-living and dishonest pakehas brought disease and trouble among his
people, while the old authority of the chiefs was weakening day by day.
The Old Testament offered laws which seemed framed for his own case,
and, in studying his Bible, Tamihana was struck with the important part
which was played by the _nationalism_ of the Chosen People. One verse in
particular took his attention: "Thou shalt in any wise set him king over
thee, whom the Lord thy God shall choose; one from among thy brethren
shalt thou set king over thee: thou mayest not set a stranger over thee,
which is not thy brother."--(Deut. xvii. 15.) Here, surely, was divine
sanction for the principle of nationalism and of kingship: might not the
cure for the woes of his race be found in a unified State under an
elected king of their own blood?

The ideas which were thus working in the young chief's mind were forced
into active expression by the treatment he received from those in
authority. Early in 1857 he visited Auckland, with the object of making
an appeal to the governor for good government among the Maoris. Instead
of a welcome, he received a snub from the high officials, who scornfully
advised him to go home and help himself. This rebuff drove him to
action. Sending messages far and wide, he convened a great assembly of
the inland tribes at Rangiaohia in the Waikato. The concourse afterwards
moved to Ihumatao on the shores of the Manukau, and within a few miles
of Auckland, where the conference was at that very time drafting the
church constitution. The one gathering consisted of highly educated
clergy and lawyers, the other of unlettered or self-taught Maoris; but
the object of both gatherings was the same, and so were the principles
which both professed. A Christian law was the object of them both.
Tamihana would not allow himself to be put forward as king: he proposed
for that honour the aged Waikato chief, Te Wherowhero or Potatau; but
he, as king-maker, was the life and soul of the movement. The kingship
thus set up was a sorry enough thing in outward appearance, but its flag
bore upon it the Cross of the Redeemer; its inauguration at Ngaruawahia
(in 1858) was accompanied with prayers and hymns; its object was to bar
out intoxicating liquors from the inland tribes, and to keep them from
unwholesome contact with the white man and his ways. As Marsden had
tried to found a Christian community at Rangihoua, Selwyn at St. John's,
and Godley in Canterbury, so Tamihana attempted to set up a Christian
State in the interior of the North Island.

It is sad to think that he did not meet with more sympathy from the
heads of Church and State. "The members of the Government in Auckland,"
wrote Sir John Gorst, "did not like Te Waharoa [Tamihana]. Few Europeans
knew him personally, and it was the fashion to believe him insincere."
At a preliminary meeting at Taupo, the Rev. T. Grace did indeed join in
the proceedings, but the colonial government soon moved the governor to
petition the C.M.S. for the missionary's removal. Bishop Selwyn left the
Taurarua Conference to oppose the king movement at Ihumatao. The one man
who saw it in a favourable light was Sir William Martin. To him it was
"not an enemy to be crushed, but a god-send to be welcomed." The
governor, Colonel Gore-Browne, was weak; but he felt that if he could
have Sir William Martin and Bishop Selwyn on his council for native
affairs, he might be able to walk uprightly. His proposal, however, was
declared "inadmissible," and the well-meaning governor was soon hurried
into a policy from which he at first had shrunk.

The beginning of the year 1860 found the king movement still friendly to
the British rule. Its influence did not extend much beyond the Waikato
country, and it was discountenanced by the tribes who lived under the
influence of Henry Williams in the north, William Williams in the east,
and of Hadfield and Taylor in the south-west. Hadfield's staunch ally,
Wiremu Kingi te Rangitaake, had, in 1848, carried his tribe back to
Taranaki, where his ancestral possessions lay, and he too kept aloof
from the movement. This chief, upon whom was to turn the future course
of events, still stood forth as a champion of the white man; and to him
New Plymouth was indebted in 1851, as Wellington had been in 1843 and
1846, for preservation from hostile attack.

Yet this was the man whom the Government now drove into opposition and
rebellion. What were his crimes that he should be so treated? In the
first place he and his tribe owned the beautiful Waitara lands which lay
close to New Plymouth, and a Naboth is always open to the old charge,
"Thou didst blaspheme God and the king." Governor Gore-Browne, upon whom
lay the direct responsibility in native matters, was an honourable man
and the brother of a highly-respected English bishop; but, Ahab-like, he
was brought to regard Te Rangitaake as a "rebel" and "an infamous
character." And who was the Jezebel in this case? The Government of the
day had much to do with the governor's decision, yet the Stafford
ministry is looked upon as the ablest and not the least upright that has
occupied the treasury benches in New Zealand. These ministers also (it
is said) had been misled. By whom? The blame is laid upon the land
commissioner, Mr. Parris, whose later reports were certainly very
misleading. Yet Parris began with a desire to be fair to all parties. He
also succumbed to outside pressure. If we enquire further, we come upon
the ugly serpent of sectarian jealousy. Taranaki was in the Wesleyan
sphere of influence: Te Rangitaake was a churchman. For the crime of
belonging to the Church of England he incurred the violent enmity of a
certain Wesleyan minister, who had never forgiven Bishop Selwyn for
refusing to allow him to sign a church burial register. Yet this
minister thought himself in the right, and could at least point to a
murder which had been committed, not by Rangitaake himself, but by
another Maori with whom this chief had formed an alliance. Who can
judge in such a case, especially when the tangled skein is still further
complicated by the action of an astute Maori whose affections had been
wounded by a damsel who deserted him in order to become the
daughter-in-law of Te Rangitaake? But it is no pleasant thought that the
decision to seize the Waitara was made by the Government in Auckland
during the very days when the first General Synod was sitting in
Wellington, and that amongst the men who thus forced on an unjust and
unholy war were at least two who had sat in the Taurarua Conference and
had helped to shape the constitution of the Church.

The war thus begun in injustice and ingratitude, was marked by what
seemed a contemptuous defiance of religion. Wiremu Kingi was slow to
take up arms, and when the surveyors appeared upon the disputed land he
merely sent women to drive them off. The governor summoned Kingi to come
to him at New Plymouth, offering him a safe-conduct for three days. The
chief replied that he was afraid to trust himself among the soldiers,
and proposed a meeting on safer ground. No answer was vouchsafed to him;
the three days expired on Saturday night, March 3, 1860, and on Sunday
the governor began the war. Two of Te Rangitaake's _pas_ were taken by
the troops, and his place of worship burnt to the ground.

The news of the aggression spread quickly through the island. Selwyn and
Hadfield sent protests and petitions to the Government and to the Queen.
The war had been hurried on with such secrecy that the bishop had "heard
nothing of the matter till the order was given for the troops to
embark." Up to the time when the soldiers were sent to Taranaki, he was
"in the most friendly communication with the Governor and his
ministers." But now, by these very men, his appeals for an enquiry were
spurned, and he was peremptorily forbidden to interfere between the
Government and the native race.

Others beside bishop and missionaries were stirred with indignation.
"The affair at Taranaki," wrote the bishop, "was announced by the
government, and looked upon by the natives, as the beginning of a new
policy for the whole of New Zealand." As such it was received by the
king-maker in the north. Hitherto there had been little sympathy between
himself and the Taranaki chief. Now they began to draw together.
Patriotism and religion formed a continually strengthening bond. "It was
this that disquieted the heart of Te Rangitaake," wrote Tamihana, "his
church being burnt with fire." His own heart was disquieted also; and
though he would not yet adopt Rangitaake's cause, he could not prevent
some of the hot-heads of his tribe from going south to join in the
Taranaki war. His own flag at Ngaruawahia became the rallying point for
the disaffection which was now spreading through the land. Deputations
from distant tribes were received in state by the Maori King; allegiance
was tendered by many of those who had hitherto held aloof; lands were
presented, and tribute pledged.

Amid the growing excitement, Tamihana restrained the natural feelings of
his heart. "Let us not take up an unrighteous cause," he urged; "let us
search out the merits of the case, that if we die, we die in a righteous
cause." The kingdom was not set up for war but for peace; and the aged
Potatau, who died in June, repeated with almost his last breath its
watchwords, "RELIGION, LOVE, AND LAW."

The war in Taranaki lasted until June, 1861, when, through Tamihana's
efforts, a kind of peace was arrived at. One missionary, at least,
played an important part in the operations. The intrepid Wilson was
stirred at the news that the Maoris, after one of their victories, had
given no quarter to the prisoners. He therefore set out for Taranaki,
and went amongst the Maori camps, urging the observance of the laws of
civilised warfare. His life was often in extreme danger, but the
white bands which he always wore usually secured the respect of friend
and foe. After much discouragement, he succeeded in gaining the consent
of the Waikatos to spare the wounded, to exchange prisoners, and to tend
the sick. His old naval training gave him acceptance with the Imperial
forces, and he did much to promote a better feeling on both sides.

[Illustration: ST. JOHN'S CATHEDRAL., NAPIER.]

Outside the war area, some of the tribes who were most amenable to
missionary influence were brought together by the governor in July,
1860, and held a great meeting in the grounds of the Melanesian Mission
headquarters at Kohimarama, near Auckland. After long discussion they
expressed their determination not to join in the king movement, though
they openly questioned the justice of the war. But the king-maker held
to his scheme. With a profound philosophy which has hardly yet been
mastered by European statesmen, he pointed to the actual existence of
different and differing nations in the world. "The only bond," he said,
"is Christ." Why should the Maori lose his nationality? Why should not
he in his own way co-operate with the pakeha in upholding the law of the
one Christ? "This upright stick," he said, "is the governor; this one is
the king; this horizontal one which I lay across the other two is the
law of God and of the queen; this circle which I draw round the whole is
the authority of the queen which guards us all."

Nor did his actions fall below his words. Justice was administered with
strict impartiality, and Tamihana himself founded a boarding-school,
which contained at one time upwards of a hundred children. In order to
provide for the maintenance of these scholars, he and his sons carried
on a farm at Peria. Wilson relates how, when he went on a peace-making
mission to this place, and was forced to spend the cold night amongst
Maoris who showed no readiness to receive his message, a hand was laid
upon him in the dim dawn, and the voice of the king-maker said, "You
will perish in this place. Arise, come down and stay with me." After
breakfast, he found Tamihana at his plough: "The day was wet; he was
soaked with rain and bedaubed with mud. The great man--for such he
really is--was dressed in a blue serge shirt and corduroy trousers,
without hat, and toiling like a peasant." The missionary was then taken
to the school, where this Maori Tolstoi gave the children some practical
problems in arithmetic, and a dictation lesson from his favourite Book
of Deuteronomy.

The latter part of 1861 saw a temporary improvement in the situation.
War was for the time suspended. The Stafford ministry were driven from
office by the vote of one of their friends, who felt the injustice of
their war policy, and--most important of all--the weak governor was
removed, and Sir George Grey sent back to take his place. Past suffering
did not prevent Henry Williams and his friends from welcoming one who,
with all his faults, was a real lover of the native race; and the
governor soon showed that he had not forgotten the mistakes he had
formerly made. One of his first acts was to go off by himself to Otaki,
and there to spend a day or two with Hadfield--son-in-law to Henry
Williams. "Of course," writes the latter, "they were agreed upon all
points." Somewhat later he called upon the patriarch himself at
Pakaraka, and consulted with him as to the best means of bringing peace
to the land. With generous trustfulness Henry Williams wrote, "I have
every confidence in Sir George, but he is in want of men to carry out
his views."

The period from October, 1861, to May, 1863, is thus interesting, as
being the last occasion in our history when it can be said that the
voice of the Church was really effective in guiding the policy of the
country. The indignant protests of Selwyn, Hadfield, and Martin had
taken effect; an enquiry into the Waitara case proved the illegality of
the Government's action. The new governor tried to establish a system
of local self-government among the Maoris, and to atone for the misdeeds
of the past. Henry Williams described the situation with characteristic
bluntness: "Of the feeling of the old ministry and their partisans,
there was no mistake: 'Hang the missionaries and bishops for having
caused the rebellion.' These persons are now so still and quiet you may
hear a pin drop, even in the bush.... Nothing is now heard but 'the dear
Maoris; who would hurt a hair of their heads?'"

The brief period of peace in the north brought troubles of its own to
Bishop Selwyn and the Church. The second General Synod was summoned to
meet at Nelson in February, 1862. On the day appointed for the opening
of the assembly there were not enough members to form a quorum. For
several days this deficiency continued, and the synod could not be
properly constituted. The members occupied themselves with passing
resolutions which were validated at the end of the period, when at last
a quorum was secured.

The chief reason for the smallness of this gathering was the attitude of
the diocese of Christchurch. This important part of the Church was in a
state of rebellion against the constitution. None of its principal
clergy had attended the synod of 1859; no representative but the bishop
came to that of 1862. Its grievances were of various kinds: it found
fault with the "property" element, and the "mutual compact" idea, and
the unalterable fundamentals, and all the other features upon which the
Auckland laity had insisted. It seemed as though the spirit of Godley
had returned in all its trenchant and uncompromising churchmanship. But
the most definite of all the Canterbury grievances arose from the claim
of the General Synod to own and administer all the church property in
the country. Bishop Selwyn had handed over to the first synod more than
seventy trust properties, which had been hitherto vested in himself as
corporation sole: he expected the diocese of Christchurch to do the
same. But this the Canterbury churchmen would never do. Rather than do
it, they resolved to secede from the Church of New Zealand, and to
reconstitute themselves on a diocesan basis. They appealed to the
primate to "throw over" the constitution altogether, and to start afresh
on what they considered more churchlike principles.

Such was the ecclesiastical situation for the next three years--1862 to
1865. The position was serious, and there was just the possibility of a
schism. But it was hardly more than a possibility. Selwyn seems not to
have disquieted himself very greatly about the matter. For there was one
saving feature in the case. Christchurch could hardly set up for itself
on a diocesan basis without its bishop; and Bishop Harper was Selwyn's
friend, and he was loyal to the constitution. The whole synod of
Christchurch might pass threatening resolutions--as it did in 1863 and
1864--but as long as Henry Harper occupied the bishop's seat they were
bound to be blocked by the episcopal veto. And before the next General
Synod the Church was to pass through such tragic occurrences that the
question at issue could no longer command the same primary and absorbing
interest.



CHAPTER XIV.

RUIN AND DESOLATION.

(1862-1868).

                 Our heart's consuming pain,
  At sight of ruined altars, prophets slain,
  And God's own ark with blood of souls defiled!
    --_Keble._


The armed truce which lasted from June, 1861, to May, 1863, was marked
by strenuous efforts on both sides to bring about a lasting peace. To
appreciate the gravity of the situation, it is necessary to remember
that the European settlements were still but a fringe round the coast,
while the whole of the interior of the island was occupied by the
Maoris. But that race had so dwindled away during the last half-century,
and the Europeans had poured in so fast during the last twenty years,
that the relative numbers were now not very unequal. If the Maoris had
been united, they might even yet have driven the immigrants from the
land. That they were not united in any such hostile policy was due
almost entirely to the influence of the missionaries. There would have
been no hostility at all if just and considerate treatment had been the
rule throughout.

In justification of this statement we have only to follow the action of
the king-maker, Tamihana, of the old "king," Potatau, and even of his
successor, Tawhiao. As long as he lived, old Potatau said _Amen_ at the
end of the prayer for the Queen. Even when many of the "king's"
adherents had joined the Taranaki army, which was fighting for its life
against the Imperial troops, the prayer was still offered up day by day
without curtailment, though perhaps with some misgiving, that her
majesty might be strengthened to "vanquish and overcome all her
enemies." Sir George Grey established Mr. Gorst as magistrate and
schoolmaster in the heart of the Waikato. The native authorities would
allow no one to appear as a suitor in his court, but they took an
interest in his school, and visited it from time to time.

But Taranaki still seethed with discontent, and murders sometimes
occurred. Tamihana's position became more and more difficult. He
convened a great meeting on Oct. 23, 1862, at Peria, to discuss the
Waitara and other grievances. It began with solemn evensong, and on the
following Sunday morning Tamihana himself preached an eloquent sermon
from the text, "Behold, how good and joyful a thing it is, brethren, to
dwell together in unity." In fervid language he urged the cessation of
all inter-tribal quarrels, and the unification of the race under the
king's flag. Bishop Selwyn was present, and in the afternoon preached
from the same text on the need for a still larger unity, which should
embrace both nations under the flag of the Queen. Tamihana was touched
by this appeal, and made another attempt to induce Rangitaake to submit
his claim to arbitration. The chief refused, and the king-maker was
driven to the conviction that his power was beginning to decline. It was
passing into the hands of the more violent Rewi, who longed for war with
the pakeha as keenly as some of the Taranaki settlers longed for war
with the Maori.

To understand the positions of the king party and of the colonists, it
is necessary to form a picture of the frontier line. From Ngaruawahia,
the Maori king's capital, the River Waikato flows northward till it
reaches a point not much more than 40 miles from Auckland. Here it takes
a sudden turn to the westward. Its previous course may be compared to
the upright stem of the letter T: from this point it forms the left arm
of the cross. The right arm of the T is supplied by the smaller River
Mangatawhiri, which here falls into the Waikato. The cross of the T
extended from the western sea almost to the Hauraki Gulf, and divided
the country of the "king" from that of the white man. It was quite near
enough to the capital to fill the Aucklanders with anxiety, and on one
occasion, when a few turbulent spirits broke through the boundary, the
settlers on the Manukau left their homes in alarm.

Sir George Grey was genuinely anxious to avoid war, but he tried to cow
the Maoris by driving a military road from Auckland to a point just
outside the frontier line, by depositing bridging material upon the bank
of the Mangatawhiri, and by sending a war steamer up the Waikato. In the
early part of 1863 he endeavoured to deal justly with the Waitara
difficulty by holding an enquiry into Te Rangitaake's claims over the
block. It was found that the chief's rights were valid, as Martin and
Selwyn had all along maintained, and the governor at once resolved to
give back the land unjustly seized. Unfortunately, his ministers were
slow to give their consent, and the delay spoiled what would otherwise
have been welcomed as an act of grace. Moreover, he himself made the
error of first taking military possession of a block in South Taranaki,
which the Maoris were holding as a pledge for the restitution of
Waitara, and they were naturally led to distrust the governor's good
faith. A party of British soldiers were ambushed and killed before the
offer to give back the Waitara was proclaimed, and again the flames of
war broke out. The governor ordered the Auckland army to cross the
Mangatawhiri River, and the act was taken as a declaration of
hostilities. "It is now a war of defence," said Tamihana; "nothing is
left but to fight."

The country upon which the governor thus launched his 10,000 English
troops was one which was little known to Europeans, but it certainly was
not savage. The Austrian geologist, Hochstetter, who explored it four
years previously, found hardly any white men except the missionaries;
but he was struck with the order, the reverence, and the prosperity
which were seen in every part. Rangiaohia, where the "king" had his
abode, is thus described:

"Extensive wheat, maize, and potato plantings surround the place; broad
carriage roads run in different directions; numerous herds of horses and
cattle bear testimony to the wealthy condition of the natives; and the
huts scattered over a large area are entirely concealed by fruit-trees.
A separate race-course is laid out; here is a court-house, there a
store; farther on a mill on a mill pond; and high above the luxuriant
fruit-trees rise the tapering spires of the Catholic and Protestant
churches.[12] I was surprised in entering the latter sanctuary at
beholding a beautifully painted glass window reflecting its mellow tints
in my wondering eyes."

  [12] The professor evidently means the Roman and Anglican churches.

Such was the land which was now to bear the ravages of war. Mr. Gorst
and the missionaries were commanded to depart. Archdeacon and Mrs.
Maunsell lingered to the last, and only escaped by walking all night
through the thick bush till they reached the boundary river.

The military operations do not come within the scope of this work.
Suffice it to say that the "king's" forces were soon defeated and his
capital occupied. But, like "a fire in the fern," hostilities kept
breaking out in unexpected places throughout the island for several
years. The honours of the war were certainly not to the British army,
though it showed no lack of bravery. But the ringing defiance of the
"_ake, ake, ake_" of the hardly bestead and famishing garrison of Orakau
will always remain one of the world's heroic memories; while the English
soldiers, with their general, soon sickened of a war on behalf of greedy
settlers against such magnificent opponents as the Maoris proved
themselves to be.

While recognising, however, the gallantry of the Maoris, the world has
hitherto taken little account of the high moral character of the
king-movement. A conspicuous example of this quality is afforded by the
career of Henare Wiremu Taratoa. Baptised and taught by Henry Williams,
after whom he was named, this man had been afterwards trained at St.
John's College, and had actually taken a part in the founding of the
Melanesian Mission. When at length he was pronounced unfit for the
sacred ministry on account of his impetuous disposition, he became a
teacher in the mission school at Otaki. Here he remained until 1861,
when the governor's aggressive policy determined him to cast in his lot
with his threatened countrymen. Settling in Tauranga, a place which
became the scene of military operations in 1864, he joined in the
fighting at the Gate Pa, where the Imperial troops sustained their most
severe defeat. But he had never forgotten his Christian training. On
arrival at Tauranga, he set up a "school of instruction in arithmetic
and christening." He then organised a system of councils, which
regulated both civil and religious matters. The result was that "the
people feared to do wrong, and nothing but good order prevailed." When
war broke out, his rules were strikingly humane. There must be no
ill-treatment of women or non-combatants; no soldier once hit must be
shot a second time; if an enemy were hungry he must be fed; fighting
must never begin on a Sunday (as all the British campaigns had done),
but rather on a Friday, "that being the day on which Christ was
crucified."

These rules were not vain ones with Taratoa and his men. Through the
night after the conflict at the Gate Pa, Henare tended the English
wounded, one of whom, in his dying agonies, thirsted for a drop of
water. There was none in the _pa_, nor within three miles on the Maori
side of it, but Taratoa threaded his way through the English sentries in
the darkness, and returned with a calabash of water to slake his
enemy's thirst. By the side of each wounded Englishman there was found
in the morning some small water-vessel, placed there by the Maoris
before they deserted the fort.

In spite of their success at the Gate Pa, the Maoris were soon
afterwards beaten at Te Ranga (June 21), and in this battle the humane
Taratoa was killed. Upon his body was found a little book of prayers
which he had compiled and used. It concluded with the apostolic precept
which he had obeyed at the risk of his life, "If thine enemy hunger,
feed him; if he thirst, give him drink."

Taratoa's laws of war were far from being observed by his "civilised"
opponents. In sadness and shame we read of the devastation of the once
smiling Rangiaohia, and of the utter destruction, there and throughout
the country, of crops and houses.[13] Hostilities were followed up by
wholesale confiscation of the Maoris' lands--a measure which was to some
extent the real object of the war. Maddened by defeat, by the loss of
lands and homes, by hunger, and by disease which followed hunger, the
Maoris were at last ready to doubt the truth of the religion which the
white man had brought them.

  [13] I have kept out of the text all mention of the burning of women
  and children in a whare at this place, because one clings to the
  belief that it was accidental. Englishmen don't do things like that
  intentionally. But there can be no doubt that it made a deep
  impression upon the Maori mind. The English general had told them
  (they said) to send their women and children to Rangiaohia for safety.
  They did so, and then the troops, instead of attacking their _men_,
  attacked and burnt their women. The Maoris seem to have had a peculiar
  horror of fire. In their most savage days they always killed their
  enemies before they cooked them.

The match was soon laid to the train. An old man in Taranaki announced
that he had received the revelation of a new religion, suited to the
Maori people. Like the Arabian Mohammed, Te Ua was considered to be a
person of weak intellect; like Mohammed, he claimed to have received his
revelation from the Angel Gabriel; like the Arabian prophet again, he
put forth a mixture of Judaism[14] and heathenism which sanctioned
polygamy, and whose propagation was to be carried on by the sword. A
trifling success over a small English troop gave the necessary impetus
to the movement, and soon bands of ardent Hauhaus (as they were called)
were traversing the island, and winning over crowds of restless and
dissatisfied people. By making their listeners walk round a pole,
chanting a strange jargon in which a few Latin words can be recognised,
they mesmerised the susceptible Maoris, and gained complete control over
their minds.

  [14] This is generally admitted; but Bishop Williams, who had
  exceptional opportunities for studying Hauhauism, thinks that the
  element of Judaism was very slight.

The attention of the Hauhaus was turned first to the south; but, at
Otaki, Hadfield's influence once more availed to save the settlement,
and to block the road to Wellington. At Wanganui, Taylor's Maoris stood
firm in their loyalty, and in a desperate battle on the island of Moutoa
drove back the enemy at fearful loss to themselves (May 14, 1864). Some
months later, however, a second attack was made on Wanganui, and the
crisis brought out the magnificent heroism of another of Selwyn's old
students, "John Williams" Hipango. There had been no rejection in his
case, but he had studied so hard by dim candlelight that his eyesight
was affected, and he was obliged with great sorrow to give up his hope
of entering the ministry. At the time of the attack he occupied a
responsible position among the Maoris, and now he took command of the
defence. The enemy sent four men to lie in ambush and kill him, but
Hipango caught them, fed them, and sent them away unhurt. The next night
ten men were sent for the same purpose; they too were caught, and they
too were released. "I will not," said Hipango, "be the first to shed
blood." Next day, Feb. 23rd, 1865, the Hauhaus came forward in open
attack. They were completely defeated, but in the hour of victory a ball
struck John in the chest. He was buried at Wanganui with military
honours, white men carrying their deliverer's body to the grave.

In the same month a band of the fanatics reached Opotiki in the Bay of
Plenty. The mission station at this place was now under the charge of
Carl Sylvius Volkner, a fair-haired, blue-eyed German, who had been
ordained by Bishop Williams in 1860. He had acquired great influence
over the people, and had built a church and a school; but so threatening
had the aspect of things become that he had taken his young wife for
safety to Auckland, as Mr. Grace had done his family from Taupo. The two
missionaries returned in a schooner on the first of March to Opotiki,
bringing food and medicines for the sick and starving people. Their
vessel was descried just at the time when the Hauhaus were indulging in
one of their wild orgiastic dances. Their leader, Kereopa, announced
that their god demanded a victim. On arrival in the river the schooner
was seized by the excited crowd. After several hours of anxious
suspense, the missionaries were ordered on shore, where, amidst taunts
and revilings, they were conducted to a small house, there to await
their fate.

The hours of respite were not wanting in consolation. The cottage was
not locked nor guarded; the prisoners were even able to recover their
belongings; the sailors who shared the peril gave the best end of the
little room to the two clergy, and joined them heartily in their evening
prayers. But the Hauhaus were working themselves up in the Roman
Catholic chapel to a devilish frenzy, and the noise of their shouting
could be heard long after darkness had fallen. The missionaries passed a
sleepless night, sustained only by the evening psalms and by one
another's society.

The morning of the second of March brought no relief to their anxiety.
Efforts for a ransom failed, and the captives fell back upon their
unfailing refuge--the psalms for the day. These were startlingly
appropriate to their situation, though hardly calculated to raise their
spirits very much. But his companion could not help being struck with
the calmness of Volkner's manner, and the beautiful smile upon his face.
Like a more illustrious sufferer,

  He nothing common did, or mean,
  Upon that memorable scene.

At one o'clock the two friends prayed together for the last time. The
psalms had now become terrible in their urgency:

  Eating up my people as if they would eat bread.
  Their feet are swift to shed blood.

Swift indeed! Before an hour had passed, a number of armed men appeared
and summoned Volkner to go with them. "Let me go too," said his
companion; but he was forced back with the ominous words, "Your turn
will come next." The young German was marched to a spot near his church,
and stripped of his coat. A willow-tree was near at hand, and he was
soon stationed beneath it. He asked for his Prayer Book, which had been
left in his coat pocket. When it was brought, he knelt some time in
prayer. On rising, he shook hands with his murderers, and quietly said,
"I am ready." With strange inconsistency his executioners continued
shaking hands with him until the moment when he was hoisted up.

An outburst of demoniac savagery followed on the cutting down of the
martyr's body. The head was severed from the trunk, and the blood was
greedily drunk even by some of the friends of the victim. The Taranaki
leader, Kereopa, forced out the eyes and swallowed them. Part of the
flesh was taken far inland, where memories of its arrival have been
found quite lately by Bishop Averill.

But what of the other prisoner? He was now strictly guarded, and could
learn nothing about his friend, except what he gathered from a whisper
which he overheard among the sentries: "Hung on the willow tree."
Together with the sailors and other Europeans, he was now marched to the
spot to which Volkner had first been led. But there was no repetition of
the tragedy. There was robbing of pockets, binding of hands, and an
exhibition of bullying tyranny; but the lust for blood had abated. With
the cryptic utterance, "A time to bind, and a time to loose; a time to
kill, and a time to make alive," the bonds were loosed from all the
party, and they were bidden to stay for the night in the house of a sick
settler named Hooper.

It was a night of horror. In the one small room--18ft. by 12ft.--there
were crowded the sick man, four sailors, the missionary, and "six or
eight natives--men, women, and children. The suffocation from so many
people and from the fumes of tobacco was almost overpowering." Grace had
just heard certain news of his friend's fate, and had "every reason to
believe that it would be his own last night on earth." Again as he lay
awake he could hear "the dancing and shouting going on in the Romish
chapel, and also in the church." Again the sailors showed their humanity
by sharing their coats and blankets. But there were no evening prayers
now, for there was too much moving about. Even his Prayer Book had been
carried off: "I could only in private commend myself and my companions
to the watchful care of our Heavenly Father. Thus ended this terrible
day, upon which the first blood was shed in New Zealand for the Gospel's
sake."

The morrow was "a dreadful day of bitter suspense." But it brought its
own consolation. The sick man had a few books, and amongst them was a
Prayer Book which had been given him by Volkner. Again therefore the
psalms could be read, and those for the day "appeared written for the
occasion." They had taken a brighter tone:

  Thou shalt show me the path of life!

Two days later the Hauhau leader, Patara, arrived and held a trial in
the church. The charges were all of a political character. Volkner was
denounced as a spy, because he had travelled so often between Opotiki
and Auckland. Nothing could be brought against Grace, except the old
charge of taking away the Maori's land. "Neither Mr. Volkner nor I have
any land," said the missionary. The Maoris seemed by this time somewhat
ashamed of their barbarity, and Grace was allowed his liberty to go
about the _pa_. He was soon able to secure proper and Christian burial
for the mangled remains of his friend, in a grave dug at the east end of
the church[15]; but beyond a daily visit to this spot he had no
resource, and soon found the time hang heavily on his hands.

  [15] The grave is now "before the altar" of the new chancel, which
  extends further eastwards than the old one.

When the news of the Opotiki tragedy reached Auckland, a thrill of
horror passed through the city. The sad duty of breaking the news to
Mrs. Volkner was undertaken by Bishop Selwyn and Bishop Patteson, who
had lately arrived from Melanesia. Her answer was worthy of a matron of
the primitive Church: "Then he has won the Crown!"

On the following Sunday a memorial sermon was preached at St. Mary's
Church by Patteson. Read in the light of subsequent events, its words
are charged with a double significance. The tone of something like envy
is indeed remarkable, and the description of the martyr of the past
applies equally well to the martyr of the future:

"We know," said the bishop, "and we thank God that we do know, how good
he was, how simple-minded, how guileless; a man of prayer, full of faith
and good works that he did--meekly following his Saviour in pureness of
heart (for to him such grace was given), walking humbly with his God. We
who can ill afford to spare him from among us, who dwell with loving
affection upon the intercourse we so lately were permitted to have with
him, thank God from our hearts that not one cloud rests upon the
brightness of his example; that he has been taken from among us, we most
surely trust, to dwell with Christ in paradise, and has left behind him
the fragrance of a holy life. It is not for him we sorrow now. What
better thing can we desire for ourselves or our friends, than that we
and they shall be taken in the midst of the discharge of our duties from
the many cares and sorrows of this world, if only by the grace of God we
may be prepared for the life of that world which knows no cares, which
feels no sorrows? Indeed, these are no conventional words. We must not
seek to anticipate the season of rest. It is a blessed thing to work in
the Lord's vineyard; it is cowardly and ungenerous to wish to shorten
our time of service in the army of Christ. But, oh! the thought that a
time will come, if our faith fail not, when we shall feel the burden of
anxieties and trials and disappointments and bereavements taken away,
and the continued warfare against sin all ended and for ever: the
thought of this cannot surely be given us for naught! It must not make
us less diligent now; it must not draw us from our appointed tasks; but
it stands written as a word of consolation and encouragement for all,
'There remaineth therefore a rest to the people of God.' 'Blessed are
the dead which die in the Lord; they rest from their labours.'"

But there was a duty to the living as well as to the dead. What was to
be done for Mr. Grace? The clergy gathered at Bishopscourt asked the
question sadly and hopelessly. Even Selwyn was at a loss. At last,
Wilson urged that application should be made for the help of the H.M.S.
_Eclipse_, then in the harbour. The application was granted, and Captain
Fremantle was soon taking the bishop on an errand of rescue. But
where was the prisoner to be found? Report said that he had been carried
off to Poverty Bay by the Hauhaus, who intended to attack Bishop
Williams at Waerenga-a-hika. To Poverty Bay, accordingly, the warship
was directed, and there too a critical situation was found. Patara and
Kereopa, with their band of fanatics, had just arrived (though not with
Mr. Grace) within a few miles of the bishop's residence. A small army of
400 Maoris was drawn up in battle array to defend the bishop, but their
minds were divided, and their hearts were faint. Selwyn's exhortations
had little effect, but he obtained the help of two loyal Maoris, who
undertook to assist in Mr. Grace's rescue.

[Illustration: ALL SAINTS' CHURCH, PALMERSTON NORTH.]

The _Eclipse_ sailed back to the Bay of Plenty, and anchored outside the
bar at Opotiki. It was the sixteenth day of Grace's captivity, and the
Hauhaus had agreed to exchange him for a Maori prisoner who was being
kept at Tauranga. His treatment lately had been not unkind, but now that
the man-of-war appeared, such excitement arose in the _pa_ that his
former fears revived. However, the landing of the two messengers from
Poverty Bay diverted the attention of the Maoris from their prisoner,
who succeeded in getting on board the schooner's boat, and then, by
lying down underneath the thwarts, passed down the river unnoticed, and
gained the warship outside.

Meanwhile the position of the bishop of Waiapu and his family grew daily
worse. By the beginning of April all the converts in his immediate
neighbourhood had succumbed to the mesmerism of the Hauhaus, and to the
effects of a great _tangi_ which they held over the desolation of their
country. Accordingly, the bishop, with his family and other members of
the mission, left the station on the third of the month and took their
way northwards. They soon found a temporary home in the old Paihia
buildings at the Bay of Islands, and there the bishop strove to carry on
his school, while helping his brother, Archdeacon Henry, in his Sunday
duties. The bishop's son, Archdeacon Leonard Williams, remained at
Poverty Bay to combat the Hauhau influence, and to shepherd the remnant
of faithful Maoris.

At the end of the same month, April, 1865, the time arrived for the
General Synod to decide whether the Church in New Zealand should remain
united, or be divided into a northern and a southern organisation. The
synod was held in Christchurch, where the centre of disaffection lay.
Far removed as it was from the scene of the late troubles, the synod yet
met under the shadow of Volkner's death. Bishop Williams, too, with the
missionaries Clarke and Maunsell, had felt the heavy hand of war. It was
no time to fight over non-essentials. Canterbury was strong in its
peaceful prosperity: from the loft where the council sat the members
might look down on a scene of busy labour on the foundations of a great
cathedral, while another solid stone church (St. John Baptist) was
rising in a neighbouring square. But its lofty pretensions to local
independence could not be sustained. Archdeacon Wilson could find no
seconder for his secession motion. Men of wisdom, like Bishop Patteson
and Sir William Martin, made their influence felt on the side of peace.
The primate maintained from the outset that Christchurch was at liberty
to keep its endowments in its own hands, and its right to do so was now
definitely affirmed by the synod. The constitution also was improved by
some small changes in the direction desired by Canterbury churchmen.

But, on the whole, there was little change. Canterbury came down from
the "cloud-cuckoo-land" in which Selwyn twitted her with dwelling. Both
sides gained a better understanding of one another, and agreed to stand
together on the ground of the original constitution.

Amongst the Maoris also the martyrdom of Volkner had its influence.
Sickened by the brutality of men whom he had hitherto unwillingly
tolerated, Tamihana came to the British general and swore allegiance to
the Government. "Let the law of the queen," said he, "be the law of the
king, to be a protection to us all for ever and for ever." But his
patriotic heart was broken, and during the next year he fell into a
rapid decline. Still holding himself somewhat aloof from the white
clergy, he was upheld by the loving ministrations of his own people. As
they bore him by easy stages to his place of death, they offered this
prayer at every fresh removal: "Almighty God, we beseech Thee give
strength to Wiremu Tamihana whilst we remove him from this place. If it
please Thee, restore him again to perfect strength; if that is not Thy
will, take him, we beseech Thee, to heaven." He died with his deeply
studied Bible in his hand, his last words being a repetition of his old
watchword--RELIGION, LOVE, and LAW.

For two or three years longer the embers of war continued to blaze up
here and there. In 1867 an inter-tribal quarrel arose in the hitherto
peaceful north. A few lives were lost, and a day was fixed for a pitched
battle near Pakaraka--the opposing forces numbering nearly 600 men. No
such muster had been seen in that region since the time of Heke's war,
twenty years before. But on the morning of the battle day a message went
round both the camps, which stilled the passions of the combatants: "Te
Wiremu" was dead (July 16, 1867). The outbreak of strife had indeed
hastened the end. Instead of fighting out their quarrel, the leaders
sorrowfully made their way to take part in the old peace-maker's
funeral, and when they returned they made peace with one another. Thus
appropriately died this greatest of New Zealand missionaries. As a chief
said at the unveiling of the monument which the Maori Church erected to
his memory at Paihia: "This island was a very hard stone, and it was
Archdeacon Williams who broke it."

Within a few days of Henry Williams' death, Bishop Selwyn sailed for
England, to attend the first meeting of bishops at Lambeth. While in
England he was offered by the prime minister the bishopric of Lichfield.
Without any long delay, he sent his answer declining the proposal, and
the see was offered to another. This decision reveals, as no other act
could do, the magnificent heroism of the man. He had come to New Zealand
twenty-five years before with youthful ambitions of building a new
Jerusalem at the end of the earth. He had met with much success, but now
his work seemed to be destroyed. All he could hope to do was "to sit
amid the ruins of the spiritual temple which he had been allowed to
build, and to trace out new foundations on which to build once more." He
had begun his life with visions of restoring to the faith of Christ the
regions which had been desolated by Islam: he had lived to see his own
once loyal and Christian diocese swept by a propaganda compared to which
even Islam is a noble creed. The task which remained to him in New
Zealand was far harder than that which confronted him when he began his
episcopate. Yet then, he had the buoyancy of youth, and he had offers of
assistance from other youthful and sanguine spirits. Now, he was nearing
the age of 60, and there were no eager volunteers to help. No Pattesons
nor Whyteheads nor Abrahams had come out to him during the last decade:
indeed he had found it hard to secure any new clergy at all. His own
stipend had been cut down to less than half its original amount, and he
could with difficulty raise any funds for his diocese. To refuse an
English bishopric with its honours and emoluments, its seat in the House
of Lords, its great opportunities for influencing the policy of the
Church, and for playing a noble part in the eyes of the nation: surely
this was a sacrifice of the rarest and highest kind. Yet, to his eternal
honour, George Augustus Selwyn made this "great refusal."

The matter, however, was not to end there. At least two other clergymen
refused Lichfield, and then the offer came round again to Selwyn. This
time it was conveyed through the Archbishop of Canterbury, and
consequently it carried more weight. Still he hesitated. Friends drew
attention to the miserable stipend he was now receiving. "If I have to
live on _pipis_ and potatoes," said the bishop, "I would go back."
Lastly, the Queen sent for him. Taking both his hands in hers, she said,
"Dr. Selwyn, I want you to go to Lichfield." This was conclusive, and
the Bishop of New Zealand was soon installed in the old palace in the
Lichfield Cathedral close. He came back to New Zealand in the following
year to hand over the finances of his diocese, and to preside at a last
general synod, but it was as one whose work on the old ground was done.
He left the country finally at the close of the synod (October 20,
1868), amidst the affectionate farewells of all classes, and so passed
from the possession, though not from the memory, of the New Zealand
Church.

His departure marks the close of the formative period of our history.
Henry Williams had just received his call; Sir George Grey, who came
almost with the bishop, and with whom he co-operated in so many ways,
was to leave the country a few months later. He was the last governor
who governed, as Selwyn was the last (as well as the first) Bishop of
New Zealand, and the only bishop who exercised personal authority before
the organisation of constitution or synod.

What manner of man he was may be gathered to some extent from the
foregoing pages, though many of his good deeds have necessarily been
left unrecorded. "He was no common man," writes Mr. Gisborne, "and his
mind was cast in no common mould. His great characteristics were force
of will, zeal, eloquence, courage, and moral heroism. His main defect
was an impetuous temper, which occasionally made him dictatorial and
indiscreet." To the same effect wrote Mr. Carleton, after a reference to
his "lust of power": "Able, unselfish, enthusiastic, and devoted, we
shall not readily meet with his like again." These testimonies are
quoted as being those of politicians, and, in the case of Carleton, of a
keen opponent. The church historian, whilst not ignoring the faults
which the bishop, like other strong natures, possessed, may well go
somewhat further than the man of the world. He is fain to recognise the
nobleness of the bishop's ideals, the width of his learning, the
soundness of his churchmanship, the statesmanlike grasp with which he
confronted the difficulties and dangers of an unfamiliar situation. The
old autocratic temper still remained, as the Church of New Zealand was
yet to realise; but we may mark with reverent awe the growing humility,
the increasing tolerance, the chastened piety which the stern discipline
of life had wrought in this strong and impetuous character.



Third Period.

[Illustration: ST. JOHN'S CHURCH, INVERCARGILL.]



CHAPTER XV.

MAORI CHRISTIANITY AFTER THE WAR.

  Many false prophets shall arise, and shall lead many astray.
    --_S. Matt. xxiv. 11._


With the departure of Bishop Selwyn, the Church which he had governed
entered upon a new phase. It was no longer _one_ in the sense in which
it had been one. It still had a general synod, and it soon elected
another primate. But no primate could be what Selwyn had been to the
Church. He had watched the beginnings of every diocese, and had
shepherded in person every settlement before it attained to diocesan
status. The general synod was no real substitute for the influence of
such a personality. It meets but once in three years; its numbers are
small; its powers are limited. The real life of the Church has lain in
the dioceses, and it is in diocesan histories that its own subsequent
history must be found.[16]

  [16] It is to be hoped that such histories may soon be taken in hand.
  That of the diocese of Waiapu has already been compiled by J. B.
  Fielder, Esq., and I would wish to express my obligations to him for
  lending me the manuscript of his work.

But the change went deeper still. Hitherto the Church had tried in
various ways to exhibit the Christian life in some visible polity or
order. But the spirit of competition and commercialism had been too
strong for her. The "smash" of the war period left the Church too weak
to attempt to mould the forms of the nation's life. All that she had
strength to do was to proclaim the old message to the individual soul;
to gather together the faithful for worship and instruction; and to act
the part of an ambulance waggon in the rear of the industrial march.
Her influence may have been really stronger than before: it probably
has been so; but it has been indirect, and it has been unseen.
Humanitarian legislation owes more to Christian teaching than its
authors generally admit, and it is by the humanitarian legislation of
the last twenty years that New Zealand has chiefly influenced the world.
Selwyn's successor in the primacy was Bishop Harper, of Christchurch;
his successor in the episcopal see of Auckland was Dr. W. G. Cowie; his
successor in the work of nation-building and social organisation
was--with whatever difference and at whatever interval--Richard John
Seddon.

But this lay in the future. The immediately succeeding phase of colonial
life presents the same contrast with that of the Selwynian period as
does the Hanoverian _regime_ with that of the Stuarts. It was the period
of immigration and of public works. New men came to the front--men who
did not know the indebtedness of the colony to the missionaries. New
ideas flowed in by every mail, and, spreading rapidly from mind to mind,
drew away many from their earlier faith. The reign of Darwin had begun.

But, however it might be with the immigrant, the Maori remained a
religious being. Strange, fanatical, repulsive, as might be the forms
which his devotion took, he was still a believer in a world of spirit.
Selwyn had hoped that this ingrained religiousness would have acted for
good on the colonist. Of such influence there is little trace. The
drawing together which might undoubtedly be seen before the war, had
given place to a movement in the opposite direction. Here again Selwyn's
departure was significant. There never came another who looked upon
Maori and pakeha with the same equal and comprehensive love.

An incident from the days before the war may serve to show what, under
happier circumstances, the Maori might have done for his European
brother:

Sir George Grey, Bishop Selwyn, and an English visitor were travelling
along the east coast, near Ahuriri. In the course of the day they had
been talking to the natives about the duty of reserving certain of their
lands as educational grants for the benefit of their children and of
posterity. In the middle of the night they were woke up in their tent by
a deputation of these natives calling to Sir George Grey, and asking him
whether he himself acted upon the plan he recommended to them, and
whether he gave tithes, or any portion of his worldly goods, to the
Church of God. The governor was bound to admit that he had not done so
in the past; but undertook to do better for the future. The result was
that he bought and gave a piece of land in Wellington as a site for a
church. Bishop Selwyn added an adjoining section, and the English
visitor[17] still another; and thus the diocese acquired what it had
long sought for in vain--a central site for its cathedral church,
diocesan offices, and bishop's residence.

  [17] This was the Hon. A. G. Tollemache, who afterwards added another
  section of city land for an episcopal endowment.

The diocese in which the two races are brought into closest and most
equal relations is, of course, that of Waiapu. The reconstruction of
this shattered portion of the Church was brought about indirectly by the
same zeal on the part of Governor Grey for securing educational reserves
for the Maoris.

We have seen that Bishop Williams was driven from his home in 1865, and
compelled to take refuge with his brother in the north. For seven years
Waiapu was left without a synod, and, in one sense, it never received
its bishop back at all. Some months after the bishop's departure, his
house at Waerenga-a-hika (near Gisborne) was the scene of a fierce
battle. The Hauhaus held the adjoining _pa_, and the bishop's house was
used as the fortress of the British troops. After seven days' siege the
_pa_ was captured, but the episcopal residence and the college were in
ruins. The bishop remained for two years in exile, and his restoration
was at last brought about in an unexpected way.

In the same year (1853) as that in which he received the shock of the
Maori's midnight question, Sir George Grey induced the Rev. Samuel
Williams to leave the school which he was carrying on for Hadfield at
Otaki, and to move across the island to Hawke's Bay. Here he gave him
4,000 acres at Te Aute for a Maori school, and the natives of the
district gave a similar amount. The country was covered with bush and
fern, the land yielded no rental, and there were no funds for the
school. At last, Samuel Williams took the work into his own hands. In
order to create a school he must begin by farming the land. After
several years of experiment and of anxious labour, he succeeded not only
in bringing the school estate to a condition of productiveness, but in
giving a valuable object lesson to other settlers. Now he could begin
the school; but who was to help him in the work of instruction? His
thoughts turned to his uncle, the dispossessed bishop, who, on his part,
was seeking some new base from which to begin his work over again. In
response to his nephew, the bishop brought his family to Hawke's Bay in
1867, and was at once prevailed upon by the people of Napier to take
charge of their vacant parish. Bishop Abraham, of Wellington, in whose
diocese Hawke's Bay was situated, gladly availed himself of the
episcopal visitor for work among the Maoris. The position was a strange
one, for here was a bishop living outside his own diocese and working in
an adjoining one. The general synod of 1868, however, set matters right
by transferring Hawke's Bay to the diocese of Waiapu. Bishop Williams
made Napier his new headquarters, and the diocese took the bilingual
character which it bears to-day.

Not so soon or so happily settled was another trouble which took its
rise in the same siege of Waerenga-a-hika in 1865.

The fight at this place was well-nigh the end of Hauhauism, for the
British bullets laid low many a misguided enthusiast who relied on the
prophet's promise of invulnerability. But amongst the Maoris who fought
on the British side was one Te Kooti, who was accused--unjustly, as was
afterwards proved--of traitorous communication with the enemy. For some
days he was kept a prisoner in the guard-room in the bishop's house; he
was then deported with the Hauhau prisoners to Chatham Island. They were
promised a safe return in two years on condition of good behaviour, and,
by the testimony of all witnesses, their behaviour was exemplary.

But Te Kooti had no kindly feelings towards his captors. He fell ill on
the island, and imagined himself the recipient of a new revelation. In
fact, his mind was constantly dwelling upon the Old Testament,
especially the imprecatory psalms and the prayers of the Jews during
their exile in Babylon. His book of prayers contained two collects which
show the grandeur and the fierceness which he drew from these
Scriptures. Here is the prayer for the deliverance of the exiles: "O
GOD, if our hearts arise from the land in which we now dwell as slaves,
and repent, and pray to Thee, and confess our sins in Thy presence,
then, O Jehovah, do Thou blot out the sins of Thy own people, who have
sinned against Thee. Do not Thou, O GOD, cause us to be wholly
destroyed. Wherefore it is that we glorify Thy Holy Name. Amen."

A fiercer note is struck in the collect "For deliverance from foes":

"O Jehovah, thou art the God who deliverest the people repenting:
therefore do Thou listen hither this day to the prayer of Thy servant
concerning our enemies. Let them be destroyed and turned to flight by
Thee. Let their counsels be utterly confounded, and their faces be
covered with sadness and confusion. And when Thou sendest forth Thy
Angel to trample our enemies to the earth, through Thee also shall all
their bones be broken to pieces. Glory to Thy Holy Name. Amen."

Such being the intensity of Te Kooti's feelings, it is not wonderful
that he quickly won over the 300 disillusioned Hauhaus who were
imprisoned with him on the island; nor that, when the two years were
over without any word of release, they should have become restless and
discontented. The wonder is that when at last they overpowered their
guards and took possession of the island, they should have acted with
the moderation which they showed. They sailed back to New Zealand in a
schooner which they had captured, and Te Kooti always averred that at
that time he did not intend to interfere with anyone. It was during the
months following, when he was pursued among the mountains, wounded and
famished, that the savage reawoke in Te Kooti. In November, 1868, he and
his men made a sudden onslaught upon the settlers of Poverty Bay, and
massacred every man, woman, and child whom they met. Driven once more to
the mountains, he was hunted from place to place by the loyal Maoris,
but he was never captured; and for years his sudden murderous raids
struck terror into the homes of the colonists. The "king" Tawhiao would
have none of him, but at length the government of the day thought it
wise to grant him a pardon, and the old outlaw ended his days in peace.

His doctrines are still held by many of the Maoris in the Bay of Plenty
and elsewhere. They are called "_Ringa-tu_," from the practice of
holding up the hand at the conclusion of their prayers. They observe the
seventh day as their Sabbath. Some have introduced the name of our
Saviour into their worship, but "Jesus Christ is to them a name and
nothing more, and their children grow up in heathen ignorance."

The phenomena of Hauhauism and of the _Ringa-tu_ certainly suggest the
question whether it was wise to translate the whole of the Old Testament
into the Maori language. It can hardly be a mere coincidence that
Maunsell's translation was finished and published in 1856, shortly
before the troubles began. Tamihana, it is true, is said to have read
his Bible in English, but his followers must have been for the most part
dependent on the Maori version. Even the Hauhaus, though professing to
abjure the white man's religion altogether, were dependent on the white
man's book. "From the Bible," wrote Lady Martin, "which was their only
literature, they got their phraseology. The men who excited and guided
them were prophets; Jehovah was to fight for them; the arm of the Lord
and the sword of the Lord were on their side, to drive the English into
the sea."

Through the providence of God, the people of Israel were led step by
step from the rude violence of the days of Joshua and the Judges to the
spiritual religion of the prophets and the revelation of love in Jesus
Christ. With the Maori the process was reversed. The Old Testament was
kept back to the last. Having begun in the spirit, they were sought to
be made perfect in the flesh. What wonder if, when they took into
account the whole course of the white man's dealings with them, they
should have become convinced that the missionaries were sent before to
tame their spirits so that the colonists might follow and take their
land?

The condition even of the loyal Maoris after the war was an unhappy one.
Bishop Selwyn always spoke with thankfulness of the fact that not one of
the native priests or deacons had faltered in his attachment to the
Christian faith or to the British crown. But, with the exception of Heta
Terawhiti, they were unable to penetrate into the King Country, or to do
much in any way to rouse their countrymen to fresh exertion. Nor were
the white missionaries more successful. They were now elderly men, and
they seem not to have had the heart to make fresh efforts. Morgan had
died in the year 1865; Ashwell returned to his station after some years;
but Dr. Maunsell remained in Auckland as incumbent of Parnell. One or
two efforts were made to effect an entrance into the King Country, but
before proceeding far the missionary was always turned back. Those
Maoris who had fought on the British side were seldom the better for
their contact with the white man. Drunkenness became prevalent among
them, and altogether the after-war period presents a sad picture of
apathy and decline.

Nor can it be said that up to the present time there has been any
general revival. But cheering symptoms may be noted. The King Country,
which long remained closed to the missionaries and to all Europeans, is
now open in every part. The old "kingship" is still existent, but it is
now perfectly orthodox. At the installation of the present holder of the
title (in 1912), the Maori clergy were present in their surplices; hymns
such as "Onward Christian Soldiers" were sung; and a descendant of
Tamihana "anointed" the young chief by placing the open Bible upon his
head. North of Auckland, and on the north-east coast, a steady pastoral
work has been carried on continuously by native clergy and layreaders
under the supervision of English archdeacons. On the Wanganui River,
numbers of lapsed Maoris have returned to the Church; while in the Bay
of Plenty and around Rotorua, a great improvement has been manifest
during the last few years--an improvement largely due to the efforts of
Goodyear, Bennett, and the native clergy.

But, on the whole, the Maori of to-day is difficult to reach. He has
seen too much to be easily moved to wonder. When Marsden rode his horse
along the beach at Oihi, the natives were struck with admiration at the
novel spectacle. To-day the missionary, mounted perhaps on a humble
bicycle, may meet his Maori parishioner driving the most expensive kind
of motor car. Kendall acquired great influence over the native mind by
exhibiting a barrel organ which he had brought from England: if he
had arrived to-day he might have been invited to listen to a selection
of modern airs from a Maori-owned gramophone.

[Illustration: ST. LUKE'S, OAMARU.]

The chief hope lies in the education of the young. The government
primary schools are doing much throughout the country, many of their
teachers being trained in religious high schools and colleges. Of these
the Church has a fair number. St. Stephen's School at Parnell, Auckland,
still carries on the work begun by Selwyn at St. John's. It is a
technical school with 60 boarders. A similar institution for girls is
the Queen Victoria College in the same city.

The Te Aute estate in Hawke's Bay, so successfully managed by Archdeacon
Samuel Williams, supports a secondary boarding school and college, which
exert a great influence among the high-born Maoris. From this
institution has sprung the "Young Maori" party, which has done much to
raise the standard of living in the _pas_. A kindred institution,
supported by the same endowment, is the Hukarere School for girls at
Napier. This is perhaps the most influential of all the agencies for the
advancement of the Maori.

The old Waerenga-a-hika College lay desolate for many years after the
war, but is now revived as an industrial and technical school. Similar
institutions have been established in the diocese of Wellington, at
Otaki in the west, and at Clareville in the Wairarapa. In the South
Island there is a boarding school for girls at Ohoka in the diocese of
Christchurch.

There is nothing in the nature of a university college for Maoris, but
at Gisborne stands the theological college of Te Rau, where candidates
are trained for the ministry of the Church. From its walls many
promising young clergymen have come. Thirty-three are now at work--19 in
the diocese of Waiapu, 10 in Auckland, and 4 in Wellington. These with
17 other Maori clergy make up a total of 50.

The religious future of this fine race is shrouded in uncertainty.
Mormonism is strong in some districts, and competes with the _tohunga_
(medicine man and priest) in drawing away many of the unstable from
Christian influence. The bright hopes of Marsden and of Selwyn have not
yet been realised, but many saintly souls have been gathered in, and a
faithful remnant still survives to hand on the light.



CHAPTER XVI.

AFTER THE WAR. THE COLONISTS.

(1868-1878).

  The heart less bounding at emotion new;
  And hope, once crushed, less quick to spring again.
    --_M. Arnold._


If the religious condition of the Maoris was such as to cause lasting
grief to their teachers, there was not much in white New Zealand to
relieve the picture. For the crash of the war period had been even
greater than the foregoing pages have shown. Nothing has been said about
the troubles at Nelson, where the earnest and faithful Bishop Hobhouse
broke down under the factious opposition of his laity; nothing of the
depression which stopped the building of Christchurch Cathedral, and led
to the proposal for the sale of the site for government offices; nothing
of the closing of St. John's College at Auckland, as well through lack
of students as through lack of funds. But something must be said about
one trouble which had begun before Selwyn's departure, but reached its
acutest phase during the years that followed:

The colony of Otago, though founded as a Presbyterian settlement,
contained from the first a few English churchmen; and at the beginning
of 1852 an Anglican clergyman, the Rev. J. Fenton, began work in
Dunedin. He was greatly helped by the famous whaler "Johnny Jones," who
afterwards gave 64 sections of land in his own township of Waikouaiti as
an endowment for a church in that place.

When Bishop Harper was appointed to the see of Christchurch in 1856,
Otago and Southland formed part of his diocese, and his long journeys on
horseback through these districts were among the most arduous and
adventurous labours of his episcopate. He retained them until June 4th,
1871, when, as primate, he consecrated the Rev. S. T. Neville to the
bishopric of Dunedin; and on the same day, as bishop, resigned these
southern portions of his original diocese.

But there was another claimant to the office--one, moreover, who was
considered by the English episcopate to be its rightful occupant. How
could such an extraordinary situation have arisen? The blame must lie
(as Bishop W. L. Williams points out) somewhere between Bishop Selwyn
and the Archbishop of Canterbury (Dr. Longley). Something that was
written by the former in 1865 caused the latter to select, and
eventually to consecrate, one of his clergy, the Rev. H. L. Jenner, for
a diocese which was not yet formed, and for a people who always
protested against his appointment.

A mystery still hangs over the precise motives which actuated the
archbishop. But perhaps they can be conjectured with a fair degree of
probability. The letter upon which he acted arrived in England not long
after the news of Volkner's murder. It was hard for those who had never
left England to realise the difference between the Hauhau-ridden north
and the law-abiding south of such a distant country as New Zealand. The
archbishop might well think that his best course was to send out another
bishop as soon as possible, without waiting for compliance with
constitutional formalities. Accordingly he consecrated the Rev. H. L.
Jenner "to be a bishop in New Zealand"--leaving the local authorities to
determine the exact locality of his labours.

But no such ignorance can be pleaded for Bishop Selwyn. When he wrote
the letter to the Primate of All England he was fresh from the great
synod of 1865, where the whole constitution had been revised, and the
procedure in the election of a bishop made more clear and precise. How
could he violate a law which he himself had just subscribed? The only
answer is that he did not violate it. His letter can have contained no
such request as the archbishop imagined. Selwyn himself was as much
startled as anyone, when he found what his letter had led to. But
obedience to authority was the ruling principle of his life, and, like
another Strafford, he determined to take upon himself the whole
responsibility for what was done. It was doubtless an act of heroism,
but a simple insistence upon the plain truth would have prevented much
misunderstanding, and saved the New Zealand Church some years of
trouble.

For the appointment of a bishop there must be the consent of the local
synod, and also that of the General Synod of New Zealand. Dunedin had no
synod, but its church people were represented by a small assembly called
a Rural Deanery Board. Bishop Selwyn brought all his influence to bear
upon this body, and in 1867 secured a small majority on a motion of
acquiescence in the appointment of Mr. Jenner. But the tide soon turned
again. Mr. Peter Carr Young, who had moved the resolution of
acquiescence, was called to England, and found Bishop Jenner taking part
in a service (at St. Matthias', Stoke Newington) whose extreme ritual
was quite sufficient to bewilder an old-fashioned churchman. In his
alarm he sent protests both to the Archbishop of Canterbury and to New
Zealand. The archbishop expressed his deep regret, and soon afterwards
died. The people of Otago were excited and indignant. The case was
remitted to the General Synod (1868). In spite of Selwyn's vehement and
farewell advocacy, that body refused to confirm Bishop Jenner's claim to
the see of Dunedin, though recognising him of course as a bishop in the
Christian Church.

Dr. Jenner was still unsatisfied. In the following year he came in
person to Dunedin, and won over several church people to his side. A
regular synod had now been formed, and everything depended upon its
action. The meeting was held in April. It was the most stormy synod of
our history. From 4 p.m. on April 8 to 6 a.m. on April 9 it debated Dr.
Jenner's claim. Of the seven clergy, four finally voted in his favour,
but the laity, by 15 to 10, negatived the motion of acceptance. Bishop
Harper occupied the chair all through the night, and was subjected to
vehement attacks from the Jenner side. But he showed such admirable
temper and Christian forbearance that the leading opponent, who, on the
first day, refused to join in a simple motion of congratulation to the
new primate, was conspicuous at the end of the session in supporting the
vote of thanks to the president.

Bishop Jenner left the country soon afterwards, but he never withdrew
his claims. In this attitude he was supported by the Bishop of Lichfield
and by the rest of the English episcopate. The synodical system of the
New Zealand Church is justly looked upon as one of the greatest
achievements of Selwyn's life. There is something tragic in the
reflection that he ended by flouting its authority.

The consecration of Bishop Neville on June 4, 1871, raised the episcopal
bench to seven--its present number. But a sore trouble was impending.
The New Zealand bishops were full of anxiety for the health of their
young colleague in Melanesia, and before leaving Dunedin they wrote to
him an affectionate letter, in which they urged him to leave his work
for a time and to seek rest in England. They little thought how soon he
was to find his rest, not in his earthly home, but in the heavenly
Fatherland itself.

Their anxiety for Bishop Patteson's health was amply justified. During
the previous year he had come to Auckland to be treated for some
internal inflammation. Here his patience and sweetness had won all
hearts, and his friends saw him off to his distant diocese with sad
misgivings. He accomplished a lengthy voyage amongst the islands, amidst
most favourable conditions, but he did not feel well enough to attend
the General Synod which met in Dunedin in Feb. 1871. "I regret very
much," he wrote, "that I am unable to attend the meeting of the General
Synod. I know full well how the very life of the mission is involved in
its connection with the Province of New Zealand, and I earnestly wish to
express in every way that I can my sense of the value of this
connection, and my respect to the General Synod." The mission, he said,
was flourishing, and was able to pay its way. But his heart was sore at
the labour-traffic which was carrying off his islanders to the
plantations of Queensland and Fiji. On this subject he sent to the synod
a powerfully-worded memorandum, which, as we read it now amongst the
synodical documents, seems to be written with his heart's blood. The
synod passed a warm motion of sympathy with himself and his labours. The
motion was forwarded to Norfolk Island by the primate, and reached the
bishop on the day before that on which he began his last voyage. His
reply deals with so many points of importance that it must be given at
length:

"My dear Primate,--Your kind letter of March 7th has just reached me.
_The Southern Cross_ arrived to-day; and we sail (D.V.) to-morrow for a
four or five months' voyage, as I hope. I am pretty well, always with
'sensations,' but not in pain; and I think that I shall be better in the
warm climate of the Islands during the winter.

"I did not at all suppose that the Synod would have taken any notice,
and much less such very kind notice, of my absence. Many dear friends, I
know full well, think of and pray for me and for us all.

"The point in my memorandum that I ought to have pressed more clearly,
perhaps, is this, viz., the mode adopted in many cases for procuring
islanders for the plantations. I am concerned to show that in not a few
cases deceit and violence are used in enticing men and lads on board,
and in keeping them confined when on board. I don't profess to know
much of the treatment of the Islanders _on the plantations_.

"I am very thankful to hear that the Dunedin question is settled at
length, and so satisfactorily.

"The synod papers are not yet brought up in our things from the
_Southern Cross_. And as I am off (D.V.) to-morrow, and am very busy
now, I shall hope to read them quietly on board.

"I must end. Melanesians and English folk are streaming in and out of my
room....

  "Yours very truly,
    "J. C. PATTESON."


How the voyage ended is well known. The heavy mallet of one islander at
Nukapu gave the brave and saintly bishop instantaneous release from his
sufferings; the poisoned arrows of others caused the death, after
lingering agony, of two of his companions, the missionary Joseph Atkin
and a Melanesian teacher. The bishop's body, as it was found floating
down the lagoon, bore five wounds, inflicted doubtless in vengeance for
the violent capture of five islanders by the very traffic against which
the bishop had sent his protest to the synod.

For nearly six years the Melanesian Mission remained without a bishop,
under the faithful leadership of Dr. Codrington. But Patteson's loss
could not be replaced, nor could that of Atkin, who had managed the
navigation department. Many years elapsed before the lost
ground--especially in the Solomons--could be recovered.

Much good work was done in many of the parishes of New Zealand during
the decade of the 'seventies, and Patteson's martyrdom was not
fruitless. But, outwardly, the Church continued weak. Wellington had
lost Bishop Abraham in 1870, and, in his place, elected Archdeacon
Hadfield in recognition of his magnificent services. But the new
bishop's health was still precarious, and he failed to acquire amongst
the settlers the influence which he had formerly wielded amongst the
Maoris. Dunedin was still torn by the party spirit of the Jenner
controversy; in Waiapu, Bishop Williams was drawing toward the end of
his long and arduous life.

The weakness of the Church was revealed in a sad and startling manner
when the Provinces were abolished in 1876. The civil government became
centralised, at a time when the ecclesiastical organisation had lost its
central unity, and its power of bringing pressure to bear on national
legislation. When, in 1877, an Education bill was introduced into
parliament, the Church not only found herself outvoted, but was not even
represented in any effective way. The only parts of the colony which
could take up a strong and consistent position were Nelson and Westland.
In these districts the English Church, under Bishop Suter and Archdeacon
Harper, had co-operated with the Roman Catholics and other bodies under
their respective leaders, and had carried on an effective and successful
system of denominational schools. But nothing like this could be shown
elsewhere. Canterbury had renounced church schools in 1873, and had
reduced the religious instruction in its provincial schools to a minimum
of "history sacred and profane"; Otago and Wellington had retained
Bible-reading, but were greatly divided as to the necessity of its
continuance; Auckland had compromised with the Roman difficulty by
adopting secularism pure and simple.

Three solutions of the "religious difficulty" were thus before the House
of Representatives. No reference was made by any of the speakers to the
blessings which the Christian religion had conferred upon the country.
The torn and bleeding state of Maori Christianity prevented one side
from pointing to it as an example; the other side--if mindful at all of
its existence--was too generous to point at it as a warning. Fear of
Rome seemed to be the dominating motive with most of the members, but a
small secularist minority made itself conspicuous. The Nelson, or
denominationalist, system had broken down in the larger settlements
through want of good leadership and generous co-operation; the
government scheme of elementary Bible-reading, though more widely
favoured, was so feebly advocated that its opponents could with some
justice pronounce it a "farce"; and finally the secular party won the
day by a considerable majority. Nothing was left to the Churches of the
land but the opportunity for their ministers to enter the schools,
before or after school hours, and to give instruction to such children
as might choose to attend.

But the period through which we have been passing was not all gloom. In
the diocese of Auckland, Bishop Cowie was able to re-open St. John's
College, and to place it under the charge of Dr. Kinder. Immigrants were
pouring into his diocese to settle upon the confiscated lands, and the
bishop set himself to follow them up into the remotest settlements. In
small schooners and rough cattle-boats he journeyed round the coast; on
bullock-waggons and on horseback he traversed the almost impassable
roads. Thus he made himself the friend of the settlers, and gradually
provided them with the ministrations of religion.

In the South Island, Bishop Suter, who was appointed to succeed Bishop
Hobhouse in 1866, worked vigorously and successfully in the rough mining
settlements of the west coast, as well as among the sheltered valleys
around Nelson, and the sheep stations on the eastern coast. In
Canterbury, Bishop Harper laboured on with much success, and saw a
number of churches built during this decade.

Early in the year 1877 the long interregnum in Melanesia came to its
close. Bishop Patteson's death had stirred (among others) John
Richardson Selwyn, the great bishop's New Zealand-born son, to offer
himself for missionary work. He was too young at the time for the
episcopal office, and even when he reached the canonical age his friends
were doubtful if his health would bear the strain; but he threw himself
with ardour into the work of the mission, and soon came to be regarded
as its future head. He was consecrated at Nelson on Feb. 18th, 1877, and
soon proved his fitness for the difficult work he had undertaken.

In the previous year, Bishop Williams had just concluded a half-century
of devoted and apostolic labour in New Zealand, when he was stricken
with paralysis, and shortly afterwards (May 31, 1876) resigned his see.
After a considerable interval, an Indian missionary, Edward Craig
Stuart, was elected to succeed him, and was consecrated at Napier in
December, 1877. The retiring bishop lived long enough to welcome his
successor, but was not able to join in his consecration.

In the following year, George Augustus Selwyn died at Lichfield. He had
never ceased to take an interest in New Zealand: in his palace chapel he
had put up a memorial window to the heroic Henare Taratoa; he had taken
the retired bishops Hobhouse and Abraham as his coadjutors; and, in the
hours of unconsciousness which preceded the last breath, he murmured two
sayings which seemed to go back to the old days of toil among the Maoris
and at St. John's College. One was, "They will come back." The other,
"Who's seeing to that work?"



CHAPTER XVII.

THE CHURCH OF TO-DAY.

(1878-1914).

  Thus onward still we press,
  Through evil and through good.
    --_H. Bonar._


The earliest stage of church-life in colonial New Zealand may be called
the _Eucalyptus_ or Blue Gum period. These dark-foliaged trees mark from
afar the lonely sheep-station, and are often the only guide thereto. It
is in the station-house or in the adjoining woolshed that the service is
held. Seldom is it conducted by an ordained minister, for the number of
such is small, and each priest has a large territory to visit. His
arrival on horseback is not always known beforehand, but in the evening
the "squatter" assembles his family and dependants, the men of the
station, and perhaps a few neighbours. Everyone is glad of the
opportunity. The dining-room or woolshed is made to look as devotional
as possible. The old prayer books brought out from England are produced.
There may be no musical instrument available, but some well-known hymn
is raised by the lady of the house. The priest, in his long surplice,
preaches a practical sermon, for he understands his people and knows
their lives. The service revives old memories in the worshippers, and
carries them back in thought to ancient churches and devout
congregations in the land from which they come.

This early stage merges gradually into what may be called the Pine
period. The large sheep run is broken up into farms, each marked by its
sheltering plantations of _pinus insignis_. The typical place of
worship is now the school. To it the worshippers drive on Sunday, in
buggies or gigs. The services are carried on with some regularity:
different Christian denominations generally use the building on
successive Sundays of the month, and the same congregation gathers on
each occasion. The arrangements are awkward, the seats are comfortless,
but the singing is hearty and the feeling good. Memories of the old land
are less vivid: the young men and maidens are mostly native-born. There
is not the deep feeling of devotion, nor is there the old sense of the
overwhelming importance of divine things. Fewer of the labouring men are
present than were seen in the old woolshed services.

Years pass by, and a village springs up amidst the farms. Small
church-buildings rise almost side by side. The attendants of the
schoolroom no longer worship together. It is the Cypress or _Macrocarpa_
period, when trim hedges divide the gardens--and often the people--from
one another. But the little church, with its cross and other sacred
emblems, grows dear to some. The choir learns to chant and to sing an
anthem on a high festival. Perhaps now there is a vicarage beside the
church. Classes and guilds are carried on. "Church work" begins.

Such is the history of the Church in New Zealand during the latter
period of our hundred years. The frame of the picture is that supplied
by the originally treeless plains and valleys of the South Island. But
the picture itself, in its essential points, would represent other
regions as well--whether mining, maritime, or forest. As a picture, it
is not as bright as we should like it to be; but its shadows as well as
its brightness are but extensions of the phenomena of the religious
world outside. The divisions of Christendom did not originate in New
Zealand.

With a background furnished by the process just described--a process
constant in character, though moving faster or slower according to the
variety of local conditions--we may now fill in the foreground of the
scene with the few events of the last 34 years, which stand out above
the general level of parochial or diocesan life.

The decade of the 'eighties saw no change in the constitution of the
episcopal bench. From 1877 to 1890 the bishops remained the same. Bishop
Harper passed his 80th year, but continued actively at work; after him
in order of seniority came Bishops Suter of Nelson, Hadfield of
Wellington, Cowie of Auckland, Neville of Dunedin, Selwyn of Melanesia,
and Stuart of Waiapu. All worked harmoniously together, the leading
personality being perhaps the Bishop of Nelson.

A sign of recovery from the exhaustion of the war-period may be found in
the stately churches which now began to rise here and there.
Christchurch Cathedral, after its years of forlorn desolation, rose
slowly from its foundations during the later 'seventies, until in 1881
the nave and tower were completed and consecrated. St. Mary's, Timaru,
was begun in 1880, and its nave completed six years later. St. John's
Cathedral, Napier, was rapidly built and consecrated as a finished
building in 1888. Nothing so artistic or so solid as these edifices had
yet been seen in the country, and nothing equal to them was produced for
many years.

Not only were new churches built: they were filled. A great impetus to
devotion was received in 1885 and 1886 from Canons Bodington and G. E.
Mason, who were sent out from Selwyn's old diocese of Lichfield to hold
missions in Auckland and Christchurch. These able men spent 10 months in
the country, and gave of their best to every place they visited.

In 1889, Bishop Harper gave notice of his intention to resign his
primacy, and, in the following year, laid down his pastoral staff. He
had reached the age of 86 before his resignation took effect, but his
mind was still vigorous, and when relieved of the cares of office he
took up the humbler work of giving divinity lessons in a girls' school.
He was pre-eminently a man of peace, but beneath the placid exterior
there lay an indomitable will. One who knew him well wrote of him thus:
"He left upon me the deep impression that he never had an ideal of power
or wealth or fame, but that to go about doing good, and to promote the
welfare of his fellow-men with all his strength, were the objects he had
in view in his whole life."

This resignation was destined to bring about a constitutional difficulty
which recalled the trying days of the Jenner incident. The question
which divided the Church was nothing less than this, Who is the
legitimate primate or chief pastor of New Zealand?

Dunedin, curiously enough, was again the point from which the trouble
emanated, and a Selwyn was again the person who unintentionally brought
it about. Bishop Harper announced his intention to resign the primacy to
a general synod at Dunedin in February, 1889. At the close of the
session he called for an election of a bishop to take his place as
primate in six months' time. The first and the second ballots were
inconclusive. Had the third ballot yielded a similar result, the primacy
would have gone, according to the canons, to the senior bishop.

The Bishop of Nelson was the senior by consecration, though not by age,
and he received a large majority of lay votes. But the clergy did not
think him "safe," and gave their votes preponderantly to the veteran
Hadfield. Before the final ballot, the Bishop of Melanesia broke the
silence enjoined on such occasions, and urged the laity "not to let the
election go by default." His advocacy was successful, and at the third
ballot the Bishop of Wellington, having received a majority of all
orders, was declared by the old primate to be duly elected to fill his
place.

But this decision did not remain long uncontested. From a strictly legal
point of view, the proceedings were invalidated by the fact that the
canons gave no authority for an election until the primatial seat was
actually vacant. This technical objection was rendered more cogent by
Bishop John Selwyn's impulsive act. His speech was undoubtedly a breach
of the law, and undoubtedly also it turned the election.

The situation was a difficult one, and it affected more especially the
diocese of Christchurch. For Bishop Harper's retirement was leaving that
diocese vacant, and its synod had elected Archdeacon Julius of Ballarat
to fill Dr. Harper's place. But the election could not be completed
without the sanction of the General Synod or of the Standing Committees
of the various dioceses, and until the primacy question should be
settled it was impossible to obtain such confirmation. Bishop Suter,
acting on the verdict of the Standing Commission--which was to the
effect that the election of Bishop Hadfield was null and void--proceeded
to act as primate, and to invite the Standing Committees to confirm the
action of the Christchurch Synod. Those of Nelson, Auckland, and Waiapu
at once did so; but those of Wellington and Dunedin, holding that Bishop
Hadfield was legally elected, took no notice of the communications of
the senior bishop.

The position was undoubtedly full of interest to lawyers, but it was
painful and humiliating to devout members of the Church. Some weeks were
occupied in fruitless negotiations, but at length, through the influence
of the aged Bishop Harper, a way was discovered out of the thicket.
Bishop Hadfield resigned his claims to the primacy, and Bishop Suter,
whose position was now uncontested, summoned a special meeting of the
General Synod. It met in Wellington on April 23rd, 1890. The Bishop of
Wellington was elected primate, and the election of Archdeacon Julius to
the see of Christchurch was validated, sanctioned, and confirmed.

But larger issues soon occupied the public mind. A waterside strike
paralysed for a time the commerce of the country, and introduced the
era of "Labour." The predominance of Darwin, with his "struggle to
live," gave way to the humanitarian conception of a struggle to let
others live. In some respects the new movement was a return towards the
principles of Christianity, which had seemed to be surrendered in the
war period. As such it was hailed by many minds. The new bishop of
Christchurch was welcomed with a general enthusiasm because he came as
an avowed sympathiser with the aspirations of labour. But the events did
not justify either the hopes of the one side or the fears of the other.
Labour gained a large measure of political power under Mr. Ballance and
Mr. Seddon. Many measures were passed to secure higher wages, shorter
hours of work, more careful sanitation, and better technical training.
Yet, as years passed by, the fundamental conditions did not seem to be
greatly altered. Legislation could not go deep enough. It could not
change human nature. That could only be effected by the diffusion of a
spirit of justice and consideration throughout the community. The effort
to diffuse such a spirit is the proper work of the Church; and as this
truth became clearly seen, the Church felt less and less inclined to
throw herself on the side of any political party.

[Illustration: CHAPEL OF WANGANUI COLLEGIATE SCHOOL.]

Her own efforts to alter economic laws had not been successful; Marsden,
Selwyn, and Godley had found the spirit of individualism too strong for
them: was it not clear that the Christian's duty was to concentrate his
efforts upon the development of unselfish character in both capitalist
and worker; to try to hold the classes together by upholding the sacred
character of the State, and the solemn responsibility of each individual
for the right use of whatever property or cleverness he might possess;
to warn against the dangers of wealth and also against the greed for its
possession; to point to Christ and His world-renouncing example?

The Church, as a whole, therefore, went on in the old way, just teaching
the "Duty to God" and the "Duty to one's Neighbour," and leaving the
State to try to order the social life of the community so as to make
those duties more possible of fulfilment.

But if the policy continued the same, the leaders were gradually
changed. Bishop Harper was soon followed into retirement by others of
his old colleagues. Suter's health broke down in 1891, and on his
resignation the diocese set its seal upon his episcopate by electing his
old friend and archdeacon, the Ven. C. O. Mules, to fill his place.
Before the end of the same year, Bishop John Selwyn was likewise
compelled to lay down his office owing to severe illness.

    And men said, "_Bene meruit_"--or, rather,
    "He followed in the footsteps of his father."

Not until St. Barnabas' Day in 1894 was his place filled by the
consecration of the Rev. Cecil Wilson, who took up the work of the
Melanesian Mission with great earnestness.

Meanwhile, the veteran Bishop Hadfield had laid down both the bishopric
of Wellington and the primacy in 1893. The delicate youth who had left
Oxford in 1837, who had been the first in Australia to be ordained to
the diaconate, and the first in New Zealand to receive the office of the
priesthood, had rallied again and again from what had seemed the bed of
death, and had outlived most of those with whom he began his work. His
frequent periods of illness had been relieved by the reading of somewhat
severe and philosophical books, and he was able to make good use of his
learning in the address which he delivered to the one general synod over
which he presided. On his retirement, he lived quietly for some years
longer at Marton, and passed away in 1904.

The primacy was now conferred, with general unanimity, on Bishop Cowie
of Auckland. For the see of Wellington an English clergyman was
selected at the request of the diocesan synod. This was the Rev.
Frederic Wallis, who brought to New Zealand the learning of Cambridge
and a most genial personality. His episcopate coincided with a rapid
expansion of settlement in the more distant portions of the diocese, and
he was able to man his parochial charges and missionary districts with
able clergy from Cambridge. Under his administration the diocese made
solid progress, and became, instead of the weakest, one of the strongest
members of the New Zealand Church.

Five days before the consecration of Bishop Wallis at Wellington (Jan.
1895), a like solemn service had been held in the Cathedral at Napier.
Bishop Stuart had resigned the bishopric of Waiapu in the previous year
in order to go to Persia as a simple missionary. Into the vacant place
there was now installed one who had declined it at the previous vacancy,
but who was still not too old to take up the burden. This was Archdeacon
Leonard Williams, that son of the first bishop, who had in infancy been
baptised with the children of David Taiwhanga on the first occasion when
any of the Maori race were publicly admitted to the Church of Christ.
His life had been spent in the service of the people among whom he had
thus been dedicated to God's service, and, though older than any of the
bishops who laid upon him their hands, he was able to administer the
diocese for fourteen years before laying down the staff in 1909.

No further changes are to be noted before the year 1900. But the
twentieth century was not long on its way before the primate, Dr. Cowie,
died at his post, after a short illness. The primacy passed to Bishop
Neville of Dunedin, the only remaining survivor of the post-Selwynian
group. The work of the diocese of Auckland proved too arduous for
Bishops Neligan and Crossley, who each resigned the see after a short
tenure of office. The last vacancy has been filled by the translation of
Dr. Averill, who, coming from the diocese of Christchurch in 1909, took
up the bishopric of Waiapu after Bishop Williams' resignation, and has
done much to bring the lapsed Maoris back to the fold. His place at
Napier was filled by another parish-priest from Christchurch, Canon
Sedgwick, whose faith and zeal had been abundantly displayed in the
building of the splendid church of St. Luke the Evangelist in that city.

Wellington and Nelson also have had their changes. The health of Dr.
Wallis gave way in 1911, and he retired to England. The synod elected
one of its own members, the Rev. T. H. Sprott, to take his place; while
in Nelson, Bishop Mules was succeeded by an Australian clergyman, Canon
Sadlier of Melbourne.

Dunedin still keeps its first bishop, who, after an episcopate of 43
years, ranks as the senior prelate of the British Empire. Christchurch
has had but one change. All the other dioceses can reckon three or four.
Of the prelates who have at one time occupied places on the New Zealand
bench, some have retired to England, while others remain among us and
are entitled to a seat, though not to a vote, in the General Synod. Each
diocese (except Dunedin) can point to one bishop's grave in some local
cemetery; while Melanesia treasures the memory of the martyred Patteson,
whose body was committed to the deep within its waters.

The mention of so many bishops calls up pictures of many and various
diocesan activities. These should be recorded in separate histories, but
can hardly find a place within the limits of this book. One notable
effort in which all combined was the General Mission of Help in the year
1910. Fifteen missioners were sent out from England under commission
from the Archbishops of Canterbury and York. They represented different
schools of thought in the Church, and were headed by Canon Stuart of
Canterbury, Canon Tupper-Carey of York, and "Father Fitzgerald," of
Mirfield. Beginning in Auckland, where they were assisted by some
specially selected clergy from the south, they held missions in all the
larger parishes of the city and of the country towns. Waiapu and
Wellington were next visited. After a pause, the original band,
augmented by several North Island clergy, crossed to the South Island
and went through Canterbury and Otago. Nelson was the last diocese to be
worked, but special farewell visits were made by individual missioners
to parishes in which they had laboured in the earlier part of the
course. One missioner, at least, gave himself permanently to the New
Zealand Church.

It is not possible here to give a full account of the mission, but (to
use the words of the official report), "it is safe to say it exceeded
all anticipations in the fervour and earnestness shown, and the manifest
proofs of the Holy Spirit's presence. Most of the missioners themselves
stated that it was a unique experience in their life and work."

Of its after-effects it is not so easy to speak. It did not lead to any
departure from the existing methods of work, nor did it initiate much in
the way of fresh effort. Its results are rather to be seen in a general
quickening of activity in the different departments of the Church's
life. A sketch of these various departments must form the conclusion of
this book.



CHAPTER XVIII.

THE CHURCH AT WORK.

  Spare not, lengthen thy cords, and strengthen thy stakes.
    --_Is. liv. 2._


The chief part of the Church's work is to keep open the way to heaven.
The English Church understands this duty in New Zealand no otherwise
than it does elsewhere. That the Lord Jesus Christ, when He had overcome
the sharpness of death, did open the kingdom of heaven to all
believers--this its people sing and believe. There has been no heresy
among the colonists, if by heresy be understood anything more than
individual dissent from the common creed of Christendom.

How the way thus opened is to be kept unclosed and clear, is doubtless a
question upon which some difference exists. But even here our island
Church has been less vexed by controversy than have most other portions
of the Christian realm. No Cummins or Colenso has arisen among its
bishops. Only once has the ponderous machinery of its canon on
"discipline" been put in motion against a presbyter. That instance
occurred in 1877, when the Rev. H. E. Carlyon of Kaiapoi, a very earnest
and devoted man, was found guilty by the Bench of Bishops of erroneous
teaching and unlawful practice in regard to auricular confession and the
administration of the Holy Eucharist. The cases of Mr. Kirkham of
Roslyn, and some others, though productive of angry controversy, never
came within the purview of the courts. The opposition to Bishop Jenner,
though really based on the fear of Romanising ritual, took the safer
course of challenging the validity of his appointment.

The conduct of public worship in New Zealand presents no special
features in contrast with that of the mother Church. At one time it
seemed as though the hymns at least might have borne a distinctive
character. The second general synod decided to compile a special hymnal,
and under its authority such a book was issued in 1864. It contained 222
hymns, many of which were beautiful. But neither in this collection nor
in the enlarged edition put forth in 1870 were there any original
compositions, nor anything (except perhaps the hymns for "time of war")
to make it specially suitable to the needs of this country. The second
edition, set to music by Dr. Purchas of Auckland, never attained to such
widespread use as the first had enjoyed, and was soon driven from the
field by _Hymns Ancient and Modern_.

The changed seasons of the Southern Hemisphere still wait for an
inspired poet. The summer Christmas and the autumn Easter have yet to be
naturalised among us. Some attempts have been made, not altogether
without success. The birth of the Heavenly Babe "in the fulness of time"
is felt to be in keeping with the season when

  The feathered choir, in copse and glade,
    Their own enchanting carols sing;
  Flowers add their incense to the gifts
    Which nature offers to its King--

while at Easter time, instead of the old association of the Resurrection
with the renewed vitality of Spring, we have a fitness drawn from the
very contrast:

  Christ is risen! All around
    Autumn leaves are falling;
  Signs of death bestrew the ground,
    Winter time recalling.
  Fading leaf and withered flower
    Tell us we are mortal:
  Easter morn reveals a Power
    Lighting death's dark portal!

These verses are surely on the way to some poetic interpretation of the
changed seasons which shall fix the devotions of the future in classic
form.[18]

  [18] From "The Christian Year Beneath the Southern Cross," by the Rev.
  F. R. Inwood.

Turning from the liturgical to the personal element in our services, we
find that the solitary Marsden of 1814 is now represented by 414 clergy,
of whom 50 belong to the Maori race. The numbers vary greatly in the
different dioceses. Auckland heads the list with 110 clergy (19 being
Maoris), Wellington follows with 77, and Christchurch with 76; Waiapu
has 68 (24 being Maoris); Dunedin 46, and Nelson 29. About ninety of
these white clergy were born in the land, and many others, having
arrived in childhood, have received their training at one or other of
the colleges which have been established for the purpose.

Chief among these theological colleges stands, of course, Selwyn's old
foundation of St. John's. Its career has been a chequered one, but it
was considerably enlarged during the episcopate of Bishop Neligan, and
is now in a flourishing condition. Christchurch, in the Upper Department
of Christ's College; Dunedin, in Selwyn College; and Wellington, in the
Hadfield Hostel, possess institutions which supply to candidates for the
ministry a home and a theological training while they attend the
lectures at the University colleges. Bishopdale College, which was an
institution of great importance under Dr. Suter, has now been revived by
the present Bishop of Nelson. The studies in all these local centres are
systematised and tested by a Board of Theological Studies, whose
operations cover the whole province, and whose standard is equal to that
of the mother Church.

As to the work done by the clergy of New Zealand, it would be unbecoming
of the author to say much. Each diocese is happy in the possession of
some parish priests whose faithful service is beyond price and beyond
praise. Many, too, of those whose working day is past, are recalled with
grateful affection in the scenes of their former activity. Some have
left their mark in our large cities through their long and faithful
pastorates: Archdeacon Benjamin Dudley in Auckland, Archdeacon Stock and
Richard Coffey in Wellington, Archdeacons Lingard and Cholmondeley in
Christchurch, Henry Bromley Cocks in Sydenham. For length of service as
well as for culture and ability stand out conspicuous the names of
Archdeacon Govett of New Plymouth, and of Archdeacon Henry Harper of
Westland and Timaru. In the gift of popular preaching and of winning
business men, Dean Hovell of Napier and Archdeacon Maclean of Greymouth
and Wanganui have had few rivals. Of a more scholarly type were H. B.
Harvey of Wellington, C. S. Bowden of Mornington, Canon Joseph Bates of
Davenport, and W. Marsden Du Rieu of Auckland--the last also being
distinguished for his extraordinary charity and generosity. Ability and
spirituality were likewise conspicuous in the short career of Charles
Alabaster of Christchurch; self-sacrificing vigour in that of Archdeacon
E. A. Scott.

[Illustration: BAPTISTERY OF ST. MATTHEW'S, AUCKLAND.]

Provincial towns have often kept the same pastor for a long term of
years, the man and the place seeming to become identified in the eyes of
the world. Such cases are those of Archdeacon Butt at Blenheim, James
Leighton at Nelson, Archdeacon Stocker at Invercargill, Algernon Gifford
at Oamaru, Archdeacon Dudley at Rangiora. The large and difficult
country districts also have often had earnest and devoted priests, among
whom may be mentioned Canon Frank Gould of Auckland, Amos Knell in the
Wairarapa, James Preston at Geraldine, Samuel Poole at Motueka. Other
holy and humble men of heart there have been whose names never came
conspicuously before the world or even before the Church.

Greatly as the number of the clergy has grown within recent years, the
services of the Church could not be carried on without the help of a
large body of layreaders. Some of these are licensed to preach and
interpret, others read sermons by approved divines, but both classes
render invaluable help. The number of these readers in the diocese of
Auckland alone is almost equal to the number of clergy in the whole of
New Zealand. Nor are the services of women altogether wanting. In
Christchurch there exists a community of deaconesses, who, besides
educational and charitable work, carry on a constant ministry of
intercession and prayer.

How much the devotional side of the religious life is assisted by music
can hardly be over-emphasised. There is one paid choir in the
country--that of Christchurch Cathedral--and there are many salaried
organists of high culture; but throughout the length and breadth of the
land there are voluntary musicians and singers whose devoted efforts do
much to keep alive the inspiring practice of sacred song.

The buildings in which worship is offered are gradually becoming more
worthy of their high purpose. The last decade has seen many fine
churches begun or finished. Christchurch Cathedral; St. Mary's, Timaru;
St. Luke's, Oamaru; St. John's, Invercargill, have been brought to
completion; the fine churches of St. Matthew, Auckland; St. Luke,
Christchurch; All Saints', Palmerston North; St. Matthew's, Masterton;
Holy Trinity, Gisborne, have been built. Smaller churches of great
beauty mark the country side at Hororata, Glenmark, Little Akaloa, and
elsewhere. Some of these buildings are due to the generosity of
individual donors; others represent combined parochial effort.

For _administrative_ purposes the Church in New Zealand is divided into
six dioceses--three in each island. Since the days of Bishop Selwyn, no
addition has been made to the number. The diocese of Auckland is now
large and populous enough for subdivision, but the project for a
Taranaki bishopric has not hitherto elicited much enthusiasm.

The authority in each diocese is shared by the bishop with his synod.
This body contains all the licensed clergy and an approximately equal
number of lay representatives. Its powers are considerable, but the days
when the synod was the arena of violent strife seem to be over. Good
feeling and harmonious co-operation between bishop, clergy, and laity
are now everywhere the rule.

The relations between bishop and clergy were rendered clearer by the
case of Dodwell v. the Bishop of Wellington in 1887. The old legal
status of an English "parson" was shown not to exist in New Zealand: no
clergyman has any position save such as is given him by the constitution
of the Church. In the same way, no parishioner has any claim at law
against his parish priest. This point was decided by the Avonside case
in 1889, where the action of a parishioner against the Rev. Canon
Pascoe, on the ground of a refusal of the Holy Communion, was disallowed
by the judge. The Church is free to do its own work in its own way, and
is bound only by such laws as it may think good to make for itself.

The supreme authority for the making of such laws is the General Synod,
of which the primate is president. This dignified body has hardly yet
developed that power and continuity of action which are required for
effective leadership. It suffers from smallness of numbers, from
infrequency of meetings, and from changes of locality. Attempts have
been made (notably in 1910) to strengthen the central authority by
conferring upon the primate the title of archbishop, in the hope that
the office might eventually be attached to one particular see, which
would thus become the ecclesiastical centre of the Province. Such
attempts have hitherto met with slight success. The country itself seems
to render centralisation difficult. If called upon to choose one of the
existing sees as the seat of the archbishopric, how would the synod
decide between Auckland with its traditions, Wellington with its
central position, and Christchurch with its cathedral and its
endowments? To ask the question is to show the difficulty of its answer.

By the fundamental provisions of its constitution the synod has no power
to alter the Prayer-Book. At every session this point is debated afresh,
with the only result of throwing up into clearer relief the
powerlessness of the synod with regard to it. Another matter which comes
up for regular treatment is the admission of women to a vote at parish
meetings. The measure has hitherto always been defeated by the vote of
the clerical order, but the tide seems now to have turned, as at least
two diocesan synods (those of Christchurch and Nelson) have passed
favouring resolutions by considerable majorities.

Of all the problems which come before the ecclesiastical statesman,
perhaps the most difficult of solution is that of "the appointment of
pastors to parishes." The history of its treatment in New Zealand is
somewhat singular. At their inception the synods showed extreme jealousy
of episcopal control. A parochial system was devised which should give
to the parishioners as large a voice as possible in the selection of
their pastor, and to the priest so chosen as large a measure as possible
of independence of his bishop. The only check upon the parochial
nominators (who were elected by the vestry) was the presence upon the
Board of an equal number of diocesan nominators elected by the synod.
The one person who had no voice in the matter was the bishop. Proposals
were occasionally made to give him a seat upon the Board of Nominators,
but it was sufficient for a northern archdeacon (in 1880) to declaim
against the "cauld blanket" which the bishop's presence would cast upon
the erstwhile happy gathering of laymen, to secure the abandonment of
the proposal for a whole generation. But the arrangement was unnatural;
and, as the feelings of distrust abated, it was found that important
churches would not infrequently refrain from claiming independent
status in order that they might remain as mere "parochial districts" in
the bishop's hands. At length, in 1913, the Bishop of Christchurch
carried through the General Synod a bill which revolutionised the whole
procedure. The appointment to parishes and parochial districts alike was
placed in the hands of a small diocesan Board of Nomination. This
consists of the bishop himself, with one priest elected by the clergy
and one layman elected by the laity. The only advantage enjoyed by a
fully-formed parish is that its vestry has the privilege of selecting
between three names submitted to it by the Board of Nomination, after a
consultation between this board and the parish vestry.

Administration is intimately connected with _finance_, and on this head,
too, something must be said. The Dominion of New Zealand contains
slightly over 1,000,000 people, of whom 411,671 declared themselves in
1911 to be members of the Church of England. When it is noted that the
membership of many of these is more nominal than real, and that many are
not of age to possess any money of their own, it must surely be taken as
a sign of vitality that in the year 1912 no less a sum than £72,590 was
contributed through offertories and subscriptions alone for the stipends
of the clergy and for other parochial needs. Doubtless the sum would be
considerably higher if the rich gave always in proportion to their
means, but even so the result is cheering.

Noble gifts have indeed been sometimes made by those who have been
entrusted with worldly wealth. These gifts have taken various forms.
Sometimes the object has been the building of a church, as in the case
of the Harrop bequest of £30,000 for the erection of a cathedral at
Dunedin, or the gift by the Rhodes family of a tower and spire for the
cathedral of Christchurch. Sometimes it has been the endowment of a
parish. In this respect the diocese of Christchurch stands out
conspicuous. Glenmark, endowed by Mrs. Townend; West Lyttelton by
Archdeacon Dudley; Otaio and Waimate by Mr. Myers; Hororata (partially)
by Sir John Hall: these can hardly be paralleled elsewhere, except
perhaps in the diocese of Nelson, where the parishes of Brightwater and
of Wakefield share an endowment of £11,000 bequeathed by Dr. Brewster.
Nor must it be forgotten that among the greatest benefactors to the
Church were Bishops Selwyn, Hobhouse, and Suter. The monetary gifts of
themselves and their English friends have been estimated at no less than
£30,000.

Diocesan Funds, on the other hand, seem to have attracted the attention
of wealthy donors chiefly in Dunedin and in Waiapu. The former diocese
has received large gifts from Mr. George Gray Russell; the latter has
been permanently supplied with the stipend of an archdeacon from an
anonymous source. The bishopric endowment of Nelson received not long
since the sum of £8,000 from Miss Marsden; the poorer clergy of the
archdeaconry of Christchurch, £5,000 under the will of Mrs. Townend. The
pension fund of the northern dioceses is enriched by the capital sum of
£3,000 from Mr. James Cottrell; that of Christchurch by a similar sum
received under the will of Mr. F. G. Stedman.

In the department of charitable institutions Auckland stands
distinguished. The Arrowsmith bequest for St. Mary's Homes at Otahuhu
exceeded £11,000; the same homes and a children's home in the city of
Auckland have received considerable sums from Sir J. Campbell and Mrs.
Knox. In Christchurch the bishop administers the interest of £5,000
bequeathed by Mr. R. H. Rhodes for the spiritual benefit of the fallen
and unfortunate. The daughters of the clergy throughout the Dominion
found a wise friend in Miss Lohse, an honoured member of the teaching
profession, who left the whole of her fortune for the furtherance of
their higher education.

Second only in importance to the administration of the Word and
Sacraments, comes the _education_ of the young in the principles of the
Christian faith. The New Zealand Church is happy in possessing two
secondary boys' schools of first-rate importance--Christ's College
Grammar School in the South Island, and the Wanganui Collegiate School
in the North. Both were founded in the early 'fifties, and endowed with
lands which now yield a substantial revenue. Both embody the best
traditions of English public-school life. Wanganui has the larger number
of boarders; Christ's College of day-boys. The old alumni of these
institutions have become a power in the land, and, of late years, they
have done much to provide their old schools with solid and handsome
buildings.

Diocesan high schools for girls are found at Auckland and at Marton in
the North Island, while in the South the Kilburn Sisters carry on
collegiate schools at Dunedin and at Christchurch. There are also many
private schools, both for girls and boys, wherein religious instruction
is given.

It is in the primary department that the Church is weak. Except for
three parochial schools in Christchurch, there is nothing in the country
to correspond to the National School system in England. Almost every
child in the Dominion attends some government day school, and in these,
since 1877, religious teaching has formed no part of the curriculum. The
clergy in many places have tried to supply the want by giving lessons
out of school hours, but the difficulties are great, and the returns of
attendance show strange fluctuations. The figures for the year 1912 give
a total of 9,546 children who are thus taught, nearly two-thirds of the
number being credited to the South Island. Agitation for an amendment of
the Education Act has never altogether died down, and during the last
two or three years it has acquired a strength and an organisation which
it never had before. The success of the Bible-in-Schools movement in
several of the Australian States has inspired the various religious
bodies in New Zealand with hopeful determination to bring about a like
reform. _Quod festinet Deus noster_.

In the meanwhile the one resource is the Sunday school. According to the
latest returns, the Church of this country claims over 39,000 Sunday
scholars, and rather more than 3,000 teachers. Here the North Island far
outstrips the South. There are those who decry the Sunday school with
its limited hours and its often untrained teachers, but the devotion of
these voluntary workers is one of the brightest features of the church
life of to-day; while the results of their labours--could they be really
measured--would probably astonish the gainsayer. That the ethical ideals
of the community are what they are, and that the moral standard achieved
is what it is, must surely be largely due to the simple elements of
Christian faith and duty which are inculcated in the Sunday school.

In comparison with the churches of older lands, the Church of New
Zealand may seem to do little in the way of _charitable relief_. In a
young and prosperous community there is not the same call for
eleemosynary effort; and in New Zealand the whole community has taken up
whatever burden of this kind there may be, and bears it as a part of its
ordinary governmental task. That hospitals and asylums, homes for the
aged, and even reformatories for the vicious, should be thus undertaken
by the State is doubtless right and good, especially as every facility
is given for ministers of religion to visit the inmates. The case stands
differently with the care of the young and the rescue of the tempted and
the fallen. Here the spiritual atmosphere is all-important. Our Church
possesses orphanages in most of the large towns--Auckland (with three
large institutions), Palmerston North, Nelson, Christchurch, and
Dunedin; while in Napier and Wanganui it co-operates with other
religious organisations to the same end.

[Illustration: NEW ZEALAND BISHOPS IN 1914.
  Bishop Mules.
  Bishop of Nelson.
  Bishop of Melanesia.
  Bishop Williams.
  Bishop of Wellington.
  Bishop of Christchurch.
  The Primate.
  Bishop of Auckland.
  Bishop of Waiapu.]

Of rescue work not so much can be said. Through the influence of Sister
Frances Torlesse, many devoted ladies in Christchurch entered upon this
Christ-like work in the 'eighties, though the home they established has
now been made over to the orphans. In Wellington, Mrs. Wallis took up
the task, and the city still keeps up the institutions which she
founded.

More pleasant is the thought of the agencies which aim at preventing
vice, rather than at undoing its ravages. Mothers' Unions and Girls'
Friendly Societies are spread widely throughout the land; while, owing
to the visits of Mr. Woollcombe and Mr. Watts-Ditchfield, the Church of
England Men's Society has taken firm root among us. Slowly but surely
the supreme lesson of _service_ is being learnt: the old type of layman
who supported the Church as an honourable part of the State fabric, and
as a barrier against revolution, is passing away before the newer type
of enthusiastic worker, who feels the call of Christ to share in labour
and sacrifice for the brotherhood and for the world.

       *       *       *       *       *

The beginning of our history found New Zealand waiting for the coming of
a Christian missionary. Many parts of Maoriland are still needing such a
messenger to recall them from apostacy and indifference. But, on the
whole, New Zealand is now a country which sends out missionaries rather
than one that expects them. For many years past it has received no
financial help from any outside society. The heathen parts of Maoridom
are being evangelised by agents sent by the Church of the land--the
South Island for this purpose helping the more heavily-burdened North.
But all parts combine in following up Selwyn's mission to Melanesia.
Though unable, as yet, to bear the whole of the cost, the Church of this
Dominion has always followed this romantic undertaking with its
sympathies and with its prayers. The hopeful beginnings under Selwyn and
Patteson; the check caused by the latter's death; the slow recovery
under the younger Selwyn; the great expansion under Bishop Wilson; the
hopeful prospect under Bishop Wood--all this has formed part of our
outlook upon the great world. Some of our sons and daughters have given
themselves to the service, and no one can be considered to be a true
member of our Church who does not contribute annually to the mission
funds.

Still farther afield range the thoughts and the gaze of the young
amongst us. Twenty-one years ago the old Church Missionary Society,
which had done so much for New Zealand in the past, saw a
daughter-society spring up in this distant country. The Church
Missionary Association of New Zealand has been instrumental in greatly
fostering the missionary spirit among young people, has sent out a
goodly number to foreign countries, and raises a considerable sum for
their support. Young New Zealanders are often more attracted by China
and Japan than by the Maoris and Melanesians at their own doors.

What does this show but that the English Church in New Zealand must
widen its outlook and expand its sympathies, till it feels itself lifted
up and inspired to attempt greater things than anything yet achieved?
For long centuries Christianity could never reach these islands: instead
of advancing, it was driven back by the Mohammedan invasion. At last,
with new knowledge and new hope, there came new enterprise and new
daring. The very difficulties of the task became means to its
accomplishment; through the most unlikely channels the beginnings of the
message came. Portuguese and Hollander and Briton; da Gama and Tasman
and Cook; rough whalers, and condemned criminals: in all these we must
recognise the instruments which were used by the All-wise in the laying
of our foundations. But it is to those who set themselves with conscious
courage and far-seeing wisdom to build upon the stone thus laid--to
Marsden and Williams and Selwyn--that we owe the deepest debt.
Undeterred by the difficulties of their task, undismayed by the dangers
of their way, these heroic men gave themselves to the work of building
up under southern skies another England and another home for England's
Church. It is the same spirit that is needed now, but with such fresh
applications as are demanded by the new age.

In this book we have had to tell the hundred years' story of "the
English Church in New Zealand." Perhaps the historian of a century hence
may be able to trace its absorption into a Church which shall include
all the broken fragments of the Body of Christ within its unity; all
true schools of thought within its theology; all classes of men within
its membership; every legitimate interest and pursuit within its
gracious welcome!

For the present juncture the old words approve themselves as the most
fitting: "Keep, we beseech thee, O Lord, thy Church with thy perpetual
mercy; and, because the frailty of man without Thee cannot but fall,
keep us ever by thy help from all things hurtful, and lead us to all
things profitable to our salvation, through Jesus Christ our Lord."



APPENDIX I.

A TABLE EXHIBITING THE EPISCOPAL SUCCESSION IN NEW ZEALAND.

_Those to whose names an asterisk is prefixed were consecrated under
Royal Letters Patent._


DIOCESE OF NEW ZEALAND.

*GEORGE AUGUSTUS SELWYN: Consecrated October 17, 1841, at Lambeth, by W.
Cantuar (Howley), C. J. London (Bloomfield), J. Lincoln (Kaye), W. H.
Barbadoes (Coleridge). (Resigned May, 1869, after translation to
Lichfield.)


DIOCESE OF AUCKLAND.

WILLIAM GARDEN COWIE: Consecrated June 29, 1869, at Westminster by A. C.
Cantuar (Tait), J. London (Jackson), E. H. Ely (Browne), H. Worcester
(Philpott), G. A. Lichfield (Selwyn), G. Columbia, F. T. McDougall, V.
W. Ryan. (Died June 26th, 1902.)

MOORE RICHARD NELIGAN: Consecrated May 21, 1903, at St. Mary's
Cathedral, Parnell, by S. T. Dunedin, C. Christchurch, C. O. Nelson, W.
L. Waiapu. (Res. July 15, 1910.)

OWEN THOMAS LLOYD CROSSLEY: Consecrated April 25th, 1911, at St Mary's
Cathedral, Parnell, by C. Christchurch, C. O. Mules, A. W. Waiapu, W. L.
Williams. (Res. July 1, 1913.)

ALFRED WALTER AVERILL: Translated from Waiapu, February 10, 1914.


DIOCESE OF CHRISTCHURCH.

*HENRY JOHN CHITTY HARPER: Consecrated August 10, 1856, at Lambeth, by
J. B. Cantuar (Sumner), C. R. Winchester (Charles R. Sumner), A. T.
Chichester (Gilbert), S. Oxford (Wilberforce). (Res. March 31, 1890.)

CHURCHILL JULIUS: Consecrated May 1, 1890, in Christchurch Cathedral by
O. Wellington, A. B. Nelson, S. T. Dunedin, E. C. Waiapu, H. J. C.
Harper.


DIOCESE OF NELSON

*EDMUND HOBHOUSE: Consecrated September 29, 1858, in Lambeth Church, by
J. B. Cantuar (Sumner), A. C. London (Tait), J. Lichfield (Lonsdale), S.
Oxford (Wilberforce). (Res. Dec., 1865.)

ANDREW BURN SUTER: Consecrated August 24, 1866, in Canterbury Cathedral,
by C. T. Cantuar (Longley), A. C. London (Tait), C. J. Gloucester
(Ellicott). (Res. Oct., 1891.)

CHARLES OLIVER MULES: Consecrated February 24th, 1892, at St. Paul's,
Wellington, by O. Wellington, W. G. Auckland, S. T. Dunedin, E. C.
Waiapu, C. Christchurch. (Res. June 30, 1912.)

WILLIAM CHARLES SADLIER: Consecrated July 21, 1912, at Nelson, by S. T.
Dunedin, T. H. Wellington, Lloyd Auckland.


DIOCESE OF WELLINGTON.

*CHARLES JOHN ABRAHAM: Consecrated September 29, 1858, in Lambeth
Church, by J. B. Cantuar, A. C. London, J. Lichfield, S. Oxford. (Res.
June 1, 1870.)

OCTAVIUS HADFIELD: Consecrated at Wellington, October 9, 1870, by H. J.
C. Christchurch, W. Waiapu, A. B. Nelson, W. G. Auckland. (Res. October
9, 1893)

FREDERIC WALLIS: Consecrated in St. Paul's, Wellington, January 25,
1895, by W. G. Auckland, C. Christchurch, J. Salisbury (Wordsworth), C.
O. Nelson, C. Melanesia, S. T. Dunedin, W. L. Waiapu. (Res. April 23,
1911.)

THOMAS HENRY SPROTT: Consecrated June 6, 1911, in St. Paul's Cathedral,
Wellington, by C. Christchurch, A. W. Waiapu, O. T. L. Auckland, W. L.
Williams.


DIOCESE OF WAIAPU.

*WILLIAM WILLIAMS: Consecrated April 3, 1859 at Wellington, by G. A. New
Zealand, H. J. C. Christchurch, C. J. Wellington, E. Nelson. (Res. May
31, 1876.)

EDWARD CRAIG STUART: Consecrated December 9, 1877, at Napier, by H. J.
C. Christchurch, W. G. Auckland, O. Wellington. (Res. Jan. 31, 1894.)

WILLIAM LEONARD WILLIAMS: Consecrated January 20, 1895, in Napier
Cathedral, by W. G. Auckland, C. Christchurch, C. O. Nelson, C.
Melanesia. (Res. June 30, 1909.)

ALFRED WALTER AVERILL: Consecrated January 16, 1910, in Napier
Cathedral, by S. T. Dunedin, C. Christchurch, C. O. Nelson, F.
Wellington, M. R. Auckland, W. L. Williams. Tr. to Auckland, February,
1914.

WILLIAM WALMSLEY SEDGWICK: Consecrated February 22, 1914, in Napier
Cathedral, by S. T. Dunedin, C. Christchurch, A. W. Auckland, T. H.
Wellington, W. C. Nelson, C. O. Mules, W. L. Williams.


DIOCESE OF DUNEDIN.

SAMUEL TARRATT NEVILLE: Consecrated June 4, 1871, at Dunedin, by H. J.
C. Christchurch, A. B. Nelson, O. Wellington, W. Waiapu.


DIOCESE OF MELANESIA.

JOHN COLERIDGE PATTESON: Consecrated February 24, 1861, in St. Paul's,
Auckland, by G. A. New Zealand, E. Nelson, C. J. Wellington. (Killed
September 20, 1871.)

JOHN RICHARDSON SELWYN: Consecrated at Nelson, February 18, 1877, by H.
J. C. Christchurch, A. B. Nelson, W. G. Auckland, O. Wellington, S. T.
Dunedin. (Res. 1891.)

CECIL WILSON: Consecrated June 11, 1894, at Auckland, by W. G. Auckland,
S. T. Dunedin, C. Christchurch, C. O. Nelson. (Res. July, 1911.)

CECIL JOHN WOOD: Consecrated July 14th, 1912, at Dunedin, by S. T.
Dunedin, T. H. Wellington, Lloyd Auckland.


This table reveals the curious fact that Dr. Selwyn, while Bishop of New
Zealand, consecrated only two bishops, viz., W. Williams and Patteson.
Of these, Bishop Patteson never had the opportunity of laying hands on
another bishop. Bishop Williams joined in the consecration of but one
bishop, viz., Hadfield. The tactual succession from the great Bishop of
New Zealand has therefore passed to the present episcopate only through
two of the missionaries who were at work in the country before his
arrival. Dr. Selwyn joined in the consecration of Bishop Cowie, but only
as one of the English diocesans.



APPENDIX II.

AUTHORITIES FOR THE HISTORY OF THE CHURCH IN NEW ZEALAND.


The student of New Zealand Church History needs to glean his
information, bit by bit, from many quarters, but there are certain
outstanding authorities to which he will go at the outset. These are not
all of equal value, and they need to be used with discrimination.

For the life and work of Samuel Marsden, the promised volume by the late
Dr. Hocken should take the first place. Meanwhile, the "Memoirs"
published by the Religious Tract Society in 1858 are of primary
importance. The book has been reprinted in modified form by Messrs.
Whitcombe and Tombs (1913). The editor, Mr. Drummond, has been able to
correct a few mistakes, and has supplied some additional information.
The original author, the Rev. J. B. Marsden, had no personal knowledge
of his hero nor of the scenes of his labours. He consequently falls into
error here and there, but his book gives a faithful and interesting
picture of the religious side of the great missionary's life and work.
Another side is presented in the "Narrative of a Voyage to New Zealand"
(1817) by John Liddiard Nicholas, whose book has the high authority of
an eye-witness. Much useful information on the work of Marsden and his
helpers has been collected in Brett's "Early History of New Zealand"
(Auckland, 1890).

For the subsequent history of the mission, the chief available authority
is "Christianity among the New Zealanders," by the first Bishop of
Waiapu (London, 1867). Living on the spot, and being one of the
principal actors in the events which he describes, the bishop is able to
give a detailed account whose value is only marred by the mistakes made
by the English printers in the spelling of Maori names.

For the Selwynian period, the "Life and Episcopate" of the great bishop
by Prebendary Tucker (two vols., London, 1879) is a primary authority.
Its value is seriously diminished by the author's want of acquaintance
with New Zealand geography, and still more by his studied disparagement
of the Church Missionary Society, but his book remains indispensable for
its collection of letters. A useful corrective to Tucker may be found in
Dr. Eugene Stock's History of the C.M.S.--a book which, in spite of some
startling inaccuracies, throws a welcome light on many obscure passages
of our history.

More reliable than either of these varying presentations of the bishop's
policy and work is the small volume of "Annals of the Colonial Church.
Diocese of New Zealand" (London, 1857), which contains the bishop's
journals for the first years of his episcopate. Lady Martin's
unpretending little book on "Our Maoris" is extremely valuable as coming
from one who was a devoted member of the Selwyn circle.

The unhappy controversy between Bishop Selwyn and Archdeacon Henry
Williams had at least this good result, that it led to the compilation
of a full and authoritative life of the latter by his son-in-law, Mr.
Hugh Carleton (two vols., Auckland, 1874 and 1877). When allowance is
made for the personal bias of the talented author who fights both
governor and bishop "with the gloves off," the book remains an authority
of the first rank.

The Rev. J. King Davis' "History of St. John's College" (Auckland);
Bishop Cowie's "Our Last Year in New Zealand" (London, 1888); and Canon
Mason's "Round the Round World on a Church Mission" (London, 1892), may
also be mentioned as supplying interesting details of church work,
especially in the mother diocese of Auckland.

On the whole, it must be said that in contrast with the Melanesian
Mission, which possesses its biographies of Bishop Patteson and Bishop
J. R. Selwyn, its detailed history by Mrs. Armstrong, and several other
books of a descriptive and historical character, the New Zealand Church
is meagrely provided. The early missionaries themselves published
little. Yate's "Account of New Zealand" (1835), and Taylor's "Te Ika a
Maui" (London, 1855), and his "Past and Present of New Zealand" (1868),
stand almost alone. Some journals have been printed for private
circulation; others are only available in MS.; others again have been
destroyed. No biography exists of any of our bishops except those of
Selwyn by Tucker and Curteis, and that of Bishop Harper by the present
writer. Yet where could be found a better subject for a memoir than
Bishop Hadfield? Bishop William Williams also should surely have his
biography, but the materials for such a book seem to have been used as
fuel by the British soldiers during the siege of Waerenga-a-hika in
1868. Archdeacons Brown and Maunsell also deserve that their life
histories should be told. The founders of Canterbury should not be
allowed to pass into oblivion. Altogether there remains much work to be
done by the historical student of the future.



INDEX.

_The dates given in brackets are those of the birth and death of the
person indexed; where only the date of death is known it is preceded by
an asterisk._


Abraham, Bp. (1815-1903), arrives in N.Z., 146;
  suggested for bishopric of Auckland, 154;
  appointed bishop of Wellington, 165;
  consecration, 245;
  resigns, 216;
  coadjutor to Selwyn at Lichfield, 219.

Ashwell, Rev. B. Y. (*1883), at Waikato, 113;
  returns after war, 207.

Averill, Bp., becomes bishop of Waiapu, 227;
  of Auckland, 227.


Bay of Islands, scenery and associations, 7;
  deserted, 140.

Benefactions, 237_f_.

Bodington, Canon, mission by, 222.

_Boyd_, ship. Massacre of crew, 14;
  retaliation, 9;
  conciliation, 19.

Broughton, Bp., visits Bay of Islands, 67;
  his opinion of the mission, 94, 101.

Brown, Archdeacon A. F. (*1884). arrival in N.Z., 43;
  visits Thames, 53;
  settles at Matamata, 56;
  at Tauranga, 65;
  appointed archdeacon, 126;
  suggested for bishopric of Tauranga, 114.

Butler, Rev. J., 28.


Canterbury settlement. Its ideals, 147;
  relations with Bishop Selwyn, 148, 194.

Carlyon case, 230.

Chapman, Rev. Thomas (*1896). joins mission, 43;
  settles at Rotorua, 56;
  driven away, 57;
  Mrs. Chapman's bonnet, 58;
  returns to Rotorua, 65;
  labours at Taupo, 65, 79;
  ordination, 126.

Churches at Auckland, 234;
  Christchurch, 222, 228, 234;
  Christchurch cathedral, 222, 234;
  Gisborne, 234;
  Invercargill, 234;
  Masterton, 234;
  Napier, 222;
  Oamaru, 234;
  Palmerston North, 234;
  Timaru, 222, 234.

Church Missionary Society. Its foundation, 11;
  its authority in N.Z., 85;
  difference with Bp. Selwyn, 126, 130;
  objects to synods, 155, 159;
  withdraws objection, 160;
  urges native ministry, 170;
  present position, 242;
  _History of_, 247.

Churton, Archdeacon J. F., ministry at Wellington, 110;
  at Auckland, ibid.

Clergy of New Zealand, 232_f_.

Clarke, G., joins mission, 42;
  disconnected, 145.

Colenso, Rev. W., joins mission, 51;
  works first printing-press, 62;
  ordained, 126.

Communism among missionaries, 26;
  failure of, 43;
  at St. John's College, 118, 129, 137, 144;
  at Chatham Islands, 144.

Constitution of N.Z. Church. Chap. XII. _passim._ revised, 194;
  fundamental provisions of, 236.

Cowie, Bp. W. G. (1831-1902), succeeds Selwyn at Auckland, 202;
  consecration, 244;
  re-opens St. John's College, 218;
  becomes primate, 226;
  dies, 227.


Davis, Rev. Richard (1790-1863), arrival, 43;
  agricultural skill, ibid;
  ordained deacon, 126.

Darwin, Charles. His visit to Waimate, 91.


Education. Act of 1877, 217;
  proposed amendment of, 239_f_.

Earle, Augustus; strictures on missionaries, 91.


Fairburn (catechist), joins mission, 42;
  at Maramarua, 96;
  dismissed, 145.

Fenton, Archdeacon J., 211.

Finance, 237.


Gate Pa, Battle of, 185.

Girls' War, the, 47.

Godley, John Robert (1814-1861), character of, 148;
  difference with Canterbury Association, 149;
  views on church government, 159.

Grace, Rev. T. S. (*1879), favours king movement, 173;
  imprisoned at Opotiki, 188;
  escape, 192_f_.

Grey, Sir George, accuses Henry Williams of treachery, 133_f_;
  declares war on king Maoris, 183;
  gives church site at Wellington, 203;
  reconciliation with H. Williams, 178.


Hadfield, Bp. (1815-1904), joins mission, 68;
  volunteers to go to Kapiti, 74;
  settles at Otaki, 76;
  saves Wellington, 121;
  illness, 143;
  declines bishopric of Wellington, 165;
  becomes bishop of Wellington, 216;
  consecration, 245;
  elected primate, 223;
  primacy, resignation and death, 226.

Hall, Francis, 28;
  his character, 86.

Hall, William, 12, 36;
  retires from mission, 43.

Hamlin, James (*1865), joins mission, 42;
  settles at Mangapouri, 56;
  at Manukau, 66.

Harper, Bp. (1804-1893), appointed to Christchurch, 152;
  consecration, 244;
  keeps Christchurch synod from deserting constitution, 180;
  becomes primate, 202;
  attacked in Dunedin synod, 214;
  his work, 218;
  resignation, 222.

Hauhauism, origin of, 187;
  collapse of, 205.

Heke, Hone, 130;
  attacks Kororareka, 131;
  burial, 146.

Hinaki, chief of Mokoia, 32;
  quarrel with Hongi, 34;
  killed by Hongi, 35.

Hipango, J. W., resists Hauhaus, 187;
  Christian conduct of, ibid.

Hobhouse, Bp. (1817-1904), appointed to bishopric of Nelson, 165;
  consecration, 244;
  breakdown, 211;
  at Lichfield, 219.

Hobson, Captain W., arrives in Bay of Islands, 83;
  his relations with Henry Williams, 84;
  becomes first governor, ibid.

Hocken, Dr., Pref.

Hongi, 25;
  visit to England, 30_f_;
  return, 34;
  attacks Mokoia, 35;
  wounded, 45;
  death of, 46;
  estimates of his character, ibid.

Hymns, 231.


Jacobs, Dean, His history of the N.Z. Church, Pref.

Jenner, Bp., 212-214.

Julius, Bp., appointed to Christchurch, 224;
  consecrated, 244;
  carries nomination statute, 237.


Kaitaia, mission station established, 52.

Kemp, James, 28.

Kendall, Thomas, joins mission, 17;
  visits Hokianga, 28;
  accompanies Hongi to England, 30;
  supports him against missionaries, 35;
  dismissed, 36;
  his gnosticism, 86_f_.

Kerikeri, station established, 28;
  plight of in 1821, 36;
  episcopal library at, 115.

King movement, 172, 176, 181;
  present position of, 208.

King, John (1787-1854), 12, 23, 28, 36.


Land claims of missionaries. Chapter X, _passim._

Leigh, Rev. Samuel, visits mission, 27;
  establishes Wesleyan mission, 92.


Mangapouri, station established, 56.

Marsden, Samuel (1764-1838), early training, 92;
  meets Te Pahi, 8;
  visit to England, 11;
  plants mission in New Zealand, Ch. I.;
  second visit to New Zealand, 28;
  third visit, 29;
  last visit, 61-63;
  death, 63;
  his character, 64;
  friendly attitude to Wesleyans, 92.

Martin, Sir William, at Auckland, 128;
  signs letter asking for church constitution, 157;
  absent from Taurarua conference, 161;
  instructs Maori students, 170;
  favours king movement, 173;
  protests against seizure of Waitara, 183;
  mediates in Synod of 1865, 194.

Martin, Lady, her writings, 248.

Mason, Canon, holds mission, 222.

Mason, Rev. J. (*1843), settles at Wanganui, 80;
  drowned, 117.

Matahau (see Ripahau).

Matthews, Rev. Joseph (*1892), joins mission, 43;
  settles at Kaitaia, 52.

Maunsell, Archdeacon (*1894), at Waikato Heads, 66;
  translates Old Testament, 88;
  escapes from rebels, 184;
  at Parnell, 208.

Melanesian Mission, 142, 151, 154, 241.

"Missions," parochial and general. Bodington-Mason, 222;
  Mission of Help (1910), 228.

Morgan, Rev. John (*1865), joins mission, 51;
  goes to Puriri, 55;
  settles at Matamata, 56;
  at Otawhao, 113;
  death, 207.

Mules, Bp., 226;
  consecration, 245.


Neligan, Bp., consecrated, 245;
  enlarges St. John's College, 232.

Nelson, 109, 111, 120, 143;
  school system in, 217.

Neville, Bp., consecrated bishop, 212, 246;
  primate, 227;
  senior prelate, 228;
  his recollections, Pref.

New Plymouth. Bright promise, 112;
  loved by Selwyn, 143;
  saved by Te Rangitaake, 174.

New Zealand Company, 105.


Opotiki, station founded at, 66;
  tragedy at, 188.

Orakau, defence of, 184.

Otaki, station founded at, 76;
  church built, 142;
  school, 209.

Orphanages, 240.


Paihia, establishment of station, 42, 44;
  schools, 44;
  examination at, 49;
  present condition of, 140.

Patteson, Bp. (1827-1871), joins Melanesian Mission, 152;
  consecrated, 169, 246;
  preaches on Volkner's martyrdom, 191;
  illness and death, 214-216.

Porirua, projected college at, 145.

Poverty Bay massacre, 206.

Preece, James, 43, 55, 66.

Puckey, William (*1878), joins mission, 43;
  settles at Kaitaia, 52.

Puriri, station established, 55;
  abandoned, 66.


Rangiaohia, its prosperity, 184;
  its devastation, 186.

Rangihoua described, 19, 25;
  scene of first service, 20_ff_;
  Holy Communion at, 29;
  abandoned, 63;
  present condition of, 24.

Rauparaha, migrates to Kapiti, 72;
  meets H. Williams, 76;
  attempts to destroy Wellington, 121;
  becomes a catechumen, 122;
  builds church at Otaki, 142.

Reinga, Cape, 52.

Ripahau (or Matahau), 71, 76.

Ruapekapeka, capture of, 134.

Ruatara, early adventures, 10;
  meets Marsden, 13;
  prepares the way for the mission, 15, 18;
  death of, 23_f_.


Sadlier, Bp., 228, 245.

St. John's College, begun at Waimate, 108, 117-119;
  removed to Tamaki, 128;
  difficulties and trials, 143;
  breakdown, 151;
  reconstitution of Maori department at Parnell, 170;
  second closing of, 211;
  reopened, 218;
  enlarged by Bp. Neligan, 232.

Schools. Church schools, 239;
  Government schools, ibid;
  Sunday schools, 240.

Sedgwick, Bp., 228, 245.

Selwyn, G. A., Bishop of New Zealand (1809-1878),
  early training and ideals, 107;
  consecration, 244;
  settlement at Waimate, 108;
  first missionary journey, Chap. VIII. _pass._;
  his ecclesiastical position, 115_f_;
  second journey, Ch. IX., _pass._;
  sides with governor against missionaries, 137;
  visit to England, 151, 160;
  accepts bishopric of Lichfield, 196_f_;
  action in Jenner case, 212-214;
  death of, 219.

Selwyn, Bp. J. R. (1845-1898), becomes bishop of Melanesia, 218;
  consecration, 246;
  turns lay vote in primatial election, 223;
  resignation, 226.

Sprott, Bp., 228, 245.

Stuart, Bp. (*1911), 219;
  resignation, 227.

Suter, Bp. (1830-1894), becomes bishop of Nelson, 218, 245;
  as educationist, 217;
  his work, 218;
  personality, 222;
  rejected for primacy, 223;
  resigns, 226.

Synods, of 1844, 127;
  of 1847, 142;
  their constitution, Ch. XII., _pass._;
  Maori synods at Waiapu, 169;
  synod of 1862, 179;
  of 1865, 194;
  stormy synod in Dunedin, 214;
  present working of, 235.


Taiwhanga, David, conversion of, 48;
  baptism of, ibid.

Tamaki. Church built by Selwyn, 125;
  St. John's College removed thither, 128.

Tamihana Te Rauparaha, learns from Tarore's gospel, 73;
  evangelises South Island, 122.

Tamihana Te Waharoa (Tarapipipi), conversion of, 58;
  his ideals, 171;
  inaugurates king movement, 172;
  joins with Te Rangitaake, 176;
  labours for peace, 182;
  death of, 195.

Taratoa, Henare Wiremu, 185, 219.

Tarore, killed, 60;
  her gospel, 73.

Tasman discovers New Zealand, 2.

Tauranga, station established, 56;
  suggested bishopric of, 154.

Taurarua Conference, 161.

Taumatakura, 70.

Te Aute College, how established, 204;
  present work, 209.

Te Kooti, 205.

Te Pahi, visits Australia, 8;
  death of, 9.

Te Puna (see Rangihoua).

Te Rau College, 209.

Taylor, Rev. R. (*1873), at Wanganui, 142;
  land claim, 141;
  his influence, 173, 187;
  writings, 248.


Volkner, Rev. C. S., 188-192.


Waerenga-a-hika, college begun at, 170;
  fight at, 203;
  college revived at, 209.

Wakefield, E. G., founds New Zealand Company, 105;
  his opinion of Bishop Selwyn, 108_n_;
  founds Canterbury, 147.

Waharoa, chief of Matamata, receives Henry Williams, 55;
  attacks Rotorua, 57.

Waimate, station established at, 43;
  civilised appearance of, 62;
  becomes residence of bishop, 108;
  St. John's College at, 118;
  eviction from, 126_f_.

Wallis, Bp., 227, 245.

Wanganui (or Whanganui). Christianity along river, 78, 120;
  Christmas Communion at, 142;
  resistance to Hauhaus at, 187;
  collegiate school at, 239.

Wellington, foundation of, 75;
  beginnings of church in, 110;
  still unsatisfactory, 120;
  saved by Hadfield and Wiremu Kingi, 121;
  improvement, 125;
  cathedral site in, how acquired, 203.

Wesleyan Mission, 92-95;
  discord between converts, 117;
  station at Waikouaiti, 124.

Whytehead, Rev. Thomas, 117.

Williams, Archdeacon Henry (1792-1867), training and character, 38;
  settles at Paihia, 42;
  leads expedition to Thames, 53;
  expedition to Cook Strait, 74;
  journey across island, 78;
  buys land, 89;
  chooses site of Auckland, 90;
  saves Auckland, 131;
  accused of treachery, 132_f_;
  opposed by governor and bishop, 137;
  dismissed by C.M.S., 139;
  ministry at Pakaraka, 146;
  reinstated, 152;
  death of, 195.

Williams, Archdeacon Samuel (1822-1907), at St. John's College, 129;
  removes to Te Aute, 204.

Williams, Bp. W. L. (1829), baptism of, 48;
  at St. John's College, 129;
  opens seminary at Turanga, 170;
  remains at Turanga through Hauhau troubles, 194;
  becomes bishop of Waiapu, 227.

Williams, Bp. W. W. (1800-1878), arrives in N.Z., 43;
  leads expedition to Kaitaia, 52;
  visits Waiapu, 69;
  settles at Turanga, 71;
  translates New Testament, 88;
  becomes archdeacon of Waiapu, 113;
  defends his brother in London, 145;
  consecrated bishop of Waiapu, 166, 245;
  driven from Waerenga-a-hika, 193;
  returns to Napier, 203_f_;
  resignation and death, 219.

Wilson, Bp., 226, 246.

Wilson, Rev. J. A. (1809-1887), joins mission, 51;
  settles at Puriri, 55;
  at Tauranga, 56;
  Opotiki, 66;
  his experience at Maramarua, 96;
  mediates in Taranaki war, 176.

Wiremu Kingi Te Rangitaake, saves Wellington, 121;
  migrates to Taranaki, 173;
  driven to war, 175;
  his claims recognised, 183.


Yate, Rev. William, joins mission, 43;
  dismissal, 87;
  letters from converts to, 99.



  +----------------------------------------------------------------+
  |Transcriber's Note:                                             |
  |                                                                |
  |The following corrections have been made to this text:          |
  |                                                                |
  |Page vi, 'libarary' changed to 'library':                       |
  |    (library is kept)                                           |
  |                                                                |
  |Page vii, 'seems' changed to 'seem':                            |
  |    (perhaps seem inadequate)                                   |
  |                                                                |
  |Page x, Extraneous line of text removed, original read:         |
  |  her ministerial activities; but for vestries and church com-  |
  |  earth. Nor can I forget that loving and gentle yet firm and   |
  |  mittees the work is harder, demanding, as it does, so much    |
  |                                                                |
  |Page xvi, 'Korarareka' changed to 'Kororareka':                 |
  |    (Kororareka--Charge against)                                |
  |                                                                |
  |Page 8, 'Paramatta' changed to 'Parramatta':                    |
  |    (into his house at Parramatta)                              |
  |                                                                |
  |Page 30, 'Kendal' changed to 'Kendall':                         |
  |    (Kendall and Hongi to England)                              |
  |                                                                |
  |Page 34, 'Paramatta' changed to 'Parramatta':                   |
  |    (in his parsonage at Parramatta)                            |
  |                                                                |
  |Page 72, 'Ruaparaha' changed to 'Rauparaha':                    |
  |    (Rauparaha, the young chief)                                |
  |                                                                |
  |Page 83, 'Wiliams' changed to 'Williams':                       |
  |    (Henry Williams had but to raise his finger)                |
  |                                                                |
  |Page 112, 'Hawkes Bay' changed to 'Hawke's Bay':                |
  |    (open plains of Hawke's Bay)                                |
  |                                                                |
  |Page 158, 'deliberrate' changed to 'deliberate':                |
  |    (hands in this deliberate way)                              |
  |                                                                |
  |Page 159, 'Lyttleton' changed to 'Lyttelton':                   |
  |    (at Lyttelton, he and Mr. Godley)                           |
  |                                                                |
  |Page 164, 'Wiliams' changed to 'Williams':                      |
  |    ("Henry Williams,")                                         |
  |                                                                |
  |Page 183, 'difficuly' changed to 'difficulty':                  |
  |    (difficulty by holding an enquiry)                          |
  |                                                                |
  |Page 194, 'Wiliams' changed to 'Williams':                      |
  |    (Archdeacon Leonard Williams, remained)                     |
  |                                                                |
  |Page 203, 'Waeranga' changed to 'Waerenga':                     |
  |    (house at Waerenga-a-hika)                                  |
  |                                                                |
  |Page 242, 'Da Gama' changed to 'da Gama':                       |
  |    (da Gama and Tasman)                                        |
  |                                                                |
  |Page 249, 'Marumarua' changed to 'Maramarua':                   |
  |    (at Maramarua, 96)                                          |
  |                                                                |
  |Page 249, Duplicate index entries for Timaru and Napier under   |
  |  heading 'Churches' deleted:                                   |
  |    (Churches at Auckland)                                      |
  |                                                                |
  |Index, the original index uses a dagger symbol to indicate      |
  |  where the birth date of the person indexed is not known. This |
  |  has been changed to an asterisk.                              |
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