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 a.s.sembly 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 att.i.tude, he endeavoured to secure the a.s.sistance 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 pa.s.sionate 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 G.o.d, 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 sh.o.r.e 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 pa.s.sengers 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 pa.s.sing 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 p.r.o.nounced 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 pa.s.sed 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 sh.o.r.e, nor performed any episcopal act. He was more at home with a G.o.dly 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 compa.s.sion 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 a.s.sociated 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 cla.s.ses, without respect of persons or reservation of service, not for any material reward, but for the love of G.o.d." 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 a.s.sociates 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 G.o.dly 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sing 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 embarra.s.sment 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 a.s.sault, Heke attended the church services devoutly, and in planning this a.s.sault 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 eyegla.s.s, 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 G.o.d'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 doc.u.ment 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 t.i.tles, 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.