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Richard John Seddon.
Born, June 22nd, 1845; died, June 10th, 1906
This work was commenced two years ago, when Mr. Seddon was taking a very active part in New Zealand's politics; and the intention was that he should contribute largely to the material, so that the work should be, to some extent, autobiographical.
Having had many opportunities as a journalist of studying the political history of this colony, and having watched the rise and progress of the Liberal Party, I became well acquainted with Mr. Seddon's career from the time he entered Parliament, in 1879. Besides that, in writing and conversation, he sometimes expressed his opinions on political situations and public men, and spoke of his early battles, giving me a further insight into the view he took of past events and of those that were passing rapidly in front of him.
It was early in July, 1904, that I first asked him to allow me to write his biography. He fell in with the proposal at once, and telegraphed his hearty consent in the following message:—
Reyour communication of the 21st ultimo., I shall be pleased to give you every reasonable assistance. Kind regards and best wishes.R. J. Seddon.
I immediately prepared a scheme for the work, and submitted to him a list of questions, which I asked him to answer at his leisure. He replied as follows:—
Prime Minister's Office,
Wellington, 13th November, 1904.
,— Dear SirI duly received your letter, and have time and again tried to get an opportunity to comply with your request, but pressure of parliamentary business has prevented it. However, in the absence of direct replies to the questions you ask me to answer, I do not think I can do better than send you the Souvenir of my Silver
Jubilee and a short account of my career. From these you will be able to gather a good deal of the information you seek. Apologising for allowing your communication to remain unanswered so long,
I am, Yours Sincerely, R. J. Seddon.
I did not wish to give him any more trouble than was absolutely necessary, and worked without further assistance from him. In May, 1906, Messrs.
At the request of the publishers, the work has now been completed. The lines followed are those that Mr. Seddon approved of, and a suggestion made by him in the course of conversation, that the work should sketch the history of the Liberal Party in New Zealand, has been carried out.
To avoid confusion, I have given statesmen throughout the work titles they received in later years. In the early part of their careers, for instance, Sir
My acquaintance and friendship with my late chief and colleague,
Probably no colonial statesman was more praised or more abused than was
It is probably unnecessary for me to write much concerning my late chief's political achievements; Mr. Drummond in his excellent work tells in detail the story of Mr. Seddon's legislative triumphs. It will be sufficient to remark that for twenty-seven years he sat in the Parliament of this country, returned again and again by his staunch West Coast friends, though any constituency in the colony would probably have returned him. For fifteen years he was a Minister of the Crown, and for thirteen years, as Premier, he practically ruled New Zealand. To chronicle the measures which he has been mainly instrumental in passing into law during those thirteen years would be to write our public history for that period. Humanitarianism was his political creed. “I believe,” he wrote in his famous manifesto issued just prior to the last general election, which resulted in such an overwhelming victory for the Liberal party, “that the cardinal aim of government is to provide the conditions which will reduce want, and permit the very largest possible number of its people to be healthy, happy human beings. The life, the health, the intelligence, and the morals of a nation count for more than riches, and I would rather have this country free from want and squalor and unemployed than the home of multi-millionaires.” This was the keynote of Mr. Seddon's political life-work. It was a lofty and noble ideal. Long ago a philosopher laid down the axiom that “ideals can never be completely realised,” but
It was often said of the late Premier that with all his insight and keenness of judgment he was too impulsive, too apt to be led away by a wave of public opinion. But he had the true democratic conviction that it was his duty to give effect to what he believed to be the will of the people. Indeed, one of the great secrets of his success was that he possessed the gift, or knack, or whatever it may be called, of anticipating the trend of popular feeling; the happy gift of intuition. This was particularly emphasized during the Boer War, when Mr. Seddon's offer of New Zealand contingents for service in South Africa not
The fact that Mr. Seddon was the first, after the campaign, to protest against the flooding of South Africa with Chinese coolies by the men in whose interests the grievous war had unwittingly been waged, in no wise detracted from the merit of the promptitude of his offer of troops. Indeed, to the Boer War and Mr. Seddon's share therein, New Zealand owes more than perhaps most of us readily grasp. It was really to his big-hearted impulse, his initiative, that we owe the new and broader Imperialism, and when the great Council of the Empire, as yet in nubibus is fully realised, let us remember that it is through Mr. Seddon that it has been made possible. Perhaps we were too close to him to see him in the true perspective. Half a world away they sized the big man up more accurately than even New Zealanders could. What New Zealander's heart but beat with pride when he read, the day after the tragic news of the Prime Minister's end, the sorrowful panegyrics cabled from all parts of the world, the eulogies of the most famous English journals! “A man of noble ideals and generous sentiments;” “a great servant of the Empire:” “the most effective labour politician of his day;” “a, man whose death deprived the Empire of a powerful driving force;” “a man who largely taught the British worker to grasp the value of Empire” —these were the verdicts passed on
But again it is on the attractive personality, the very human side, of the late Premier, that one wants to dwell. His very foibles, his boisterous impulses, his little eccentricities, all
Physically powerful, vigorous, and imposing, with a keen and fearless eye, Mr. Seddon was a man who compelled respect and attention whenever and wherever he spoke. There was a stern and fighting glint in his clear straight eyes that said, as
Probably the best monument to a departed statesman is a faithful, sympathetic record of his life and works. In this book Mr. Drummond has given such a record, and it is one that I trust will be widely read, and that will faithfully preserve for those who come after us the memory of a truly great man, and a man whose influence has irrevocably moulded for good the fortunes of our country, New Zealand.
On page 177, third line from the bottom, read “Minister for Marine” instead of “Minister for Mines.”
On page 264, read “Judge Backhouse, of New South Wales,” instead of “Judge Backhouse, of Victoria.”
On Eccleston Hill, near the outskirts of St. Helens, Lancashire, England, there stands an old-fashioned, two-storey, stone cottage, with small latticed windows, a wooden porch, and a picturesque aspect.
A tidy pathway leads from a rustic gate to the porch. In the spring and summer the garden is gay with flowers; at one end of the house an old tree almost shades an upstairs window from view; and ivy and other creeping plants cling to the wall and strive to peep into the windows and doors.
The cottage is very weather-beaten; and well it might be, for it has stood on Eccleston Hill, in storm and sunshine, for over 200 years. Some of the old residents of the town, indeed, say that it has seen exactly 300 summers, but in this there seems to be more surmise than evidence.
The cottage has a history. It could hardly help having one at its time of life. Its past, however, can only be partly guessed at. In the pretty little garden, curious stones, bearing signs of the work of some craftsman, have been found in fairly large numbers. There was once a large collection of these stones, some of which have been elaborately carved, and others bear inscriptions that nobody can decipher. An old cross was in the collection, but it has been missing for many years, and has
The presence of these relics, although supplying no direct evidence, supports a belief held in the district that the garden was once a burial ground, conneced with a Roman Catholic Mission that carried on its good work at Scholes Farm, close by. Colour is given to this story by the tradition that long underground passages once extended from Scholes Farm to the garden, and that the passage was used in those bad old days when Merry England was torn with religious persecutions.
At any rate, there the cottage stands to this day, wrapped in its glamour of a lost history, looking pleasantly out into the world, and caring very little for the attacks of its enemies, old Time and the elements.
It is about 65 years since the cottage took part in an important series of events connected with the story of a man's life related in this book.
Mr.
In that happy way, rivalry lapsed into love. Miss Lindsay closed her school, and Mr. and Mrs. Seddon took up their residence in the stone cottage on Eccleston Hill, which has just been described.
In that cottage
Richard, who was the second child, had three brothers and three sisters. He was a healthy, robust, muscular, and boisterous young lad, and he gave plenty of evidence at an early age of the wilfulness that became one of his characteristics when he entered the battlefield of colonial politics.
The most definite impression left upon him by his early childhood was that made by the funeral of the thirteenth Earl of Derby, when Richard was a sturdy infant six years old. The Earl was a great patron of science, having been president of both the Linnean Society and the Zoological Society of London, and he kept at Knowsley Hall a splendid natural history collection, which had an attraction for the boy, who often made visits to the park. When he heard of the Earl's death, his first thought was that those happy outings would now have to come to an end, and he was more sorry on that account than on account of the death of the great nobleman. His grandfather's family were tenants of the Earl, and that association made Knowsley Hall a kind of shrine as far as he was concerned. Every tenant attended the funeral, and every horse in the immense estate was brought into use for the procession. The sight struck the boy as being a most remarkable one. “Through all the morning,” he remarked fifty years later, when he was sending his mind back to those days, “there came to me, even as a child, some knowledge of the deep affection that existed between the Earls of Derby and their tenantry, of which in riper years I have seen many demonstrations.”
Another incident that made a great impression on him as a child was the march past of the Scots Greys on their way to Liverpool to embark for the Crimea. It seemed to him that the steady stream of men would never end.
About that time
By-and-by the time came when he had to go to school. He was taken in hand by his father, whose wish it was that Richard should pose as a “possible” to other boys, to whom he was to be an example of diligence and application. Richard had other views in regard to himself, however, and he was determined that his opinion as to what he should do would prevail. Although he was caught early, therefore, he did not play the part at all well. His mind was out in the open, and books and papers had far less interest to him than the games of the playground.
Squire Taylor and the new Earl of Derby were trustees of his father's school. This fact enabled him to become well acquainted with their estates, and the familiarity that grew up in that respect certainly fostered, if it did not actually create, the love of all kinds of sports that soon seized upon him and carried him far from his father's school at times when he was supposed to be studying as only the son of the master could be expected to study. He was shrewd enough to maintain very friendly relations with the keepers of the domains on the two estates. With them, indeed, he made his first reciprocal treaty. They gave him freedom to do as much bird-nesting as his heart dictated, and he, on his part, promised not to interfere with the game in any way, a promise which he kept faithfully.
One day when he was in a reminiscent mood, he told a newspaper interviewer of an incident in his schooldays. “A herd of catle,” he said, “just landed from Ireland, was passing my home one day, and I was standing by the roadside watching them with childish interest, when one of the cows rushed at a younger brother, and might have injured him. I was beside him in a moment, and, pulling the child inside the gate, saved him from any possible danger. This little action must have seemed quite heroic to my mother, for it was a long time afterwards before any circumstances could dislodge me from the very agreeable position of first favourite.
“I have another little story of the same period. After school one day I went to bathe in a neighbouring pond, got out of my depth, and was on the point of drowning. A brass band was passing when my sister gave the alarm, and one of the men came to my rescue. Her further cries brought a local quarryman, and, in the moment before I lost consciousness, I caught sight of these two men, one with his trombone, the other in a leather apron, and ever since I have always felt a particular partiality for all men who play trombones or wear leather aprons.”
One of the most exciting adventures of his youth came to him through an excess of curiosity, which tempted him to test the truth of the tradition that there was an underground passage between the old abbey adjoining his father's school and Scholes Farm.
The cross, then a great feature of interest in the grounds, stood near the playground, in which were piled many gravestones huddled up from their former position, and while some of the inhabitants were planting flowers in that spot, one of the stones suddenly dropped well below the surface. That was regarded as proof of the existence of the subterranean passage, but to Richard the incident did not carry complete conviction. It was suggested that the hole should be filled up and the place should be left as it was, but he was of another mind, and started to explore with a spade. After a little time his labour came to a sudden end, for he unceremoniously disappeared, having dropped into one of the unknown abbey vaults.
The only branch of school work in which he took any particular interest was mechanical drawing, for which he once received the only first prize placed to his credit. In this way he showed where his desires and talents ran. It was mechanical engineering that captivated his fancy, and when he was still young he decided that the life of an engineer was the best thing for him.
When he began to be a big boy he was one of several who were taught extra subjects. It was an honour that he did not appreciate in the slightest. He asked himself why he should be kept inside the detested class-room learning Latin
The method of expostulation he adopted at last was a refusal to learn his lesson. There was a sharp battle, of course, but the issue was never in doubt. On that day, his grandfather happened to visit Eccleston. The position that had arisen, which was the talk of the household, was explained to the old gentleman, and it was agreed that the naughty boy should be taken away by him to the farm. There was no intention of sending him on to the land permanently, but it was thought that he would soon tire of country life, and would be glad to get back to Eccleston and his books.
He did soon grow tired of the country, and further conferences between the heads of the family led to an arrangement under which he was apprenticed to Messrs. Dalgliesh and Co., engineers and iron founders, of St. Helens. He was fourteen years of age then. Having served an apprenticeship of five years, at the end of which he was told that he had given his employers complete satisfaction, he was sent to the firm's Vauxhall Factory at Liverpool, where he evidently gave satisfaction also. Forty years later, when he returned to England as one of the Colonial Premiers at the King's coronation ceremonies, he saw the foreman of the Vauxhall factory, and asked him jocularly if he would give him a job, and the foreman replied in the affirmative. “He were a good 'un,” he remarked to one of Mr. Seddon's friends; “and, if he likes to come back, I'll give him a job to-morrow.”
Things were not to young Seddon's liking, however. He was restive, and he longed for change. He did not like the conditions under which the working classes in England had to labour. He saw skilled artizans, capable, sober, and industrious men, slaving ten hours a day for small wages, and he often felt keenly the oppression that took place all around him.
He listened eagerly to the stories of fortunes made in a few weeks in Australia. He was told that young men like himself went to Australia as poor as he was, and returned in a few years rolling in wealth. He tried to put thoughts of the great goldfields out of his mind, and to settle down to the vocation
But the golden dreams haunted him night and day, at work and at leisure. He scanned the newspapers for reports from Australia. The favourable reports sank deep into his mind; the reports of hardships and terrible deaths seemed to fade away as soon as he had read them. He argued, as hundreds and thousands had argued before and since, that, if fortune came to others, it was just as likely to come to him. He was a cheery, optimistic man all his life. He never took the gloomy view. He could not do so, in fact, and to the end of his days was looking forward with the hope and the certainty of getting something done. “My greatest interest,” he said once, “lies in the to-days and the to-morrows, not in the yesterdays, with which I have done.”
So he heard the Golden South calling to him; and, bidding friends and relatives “good-bye,” he stepped on board the “Star of England,” a handsome young man, fair in complexion, upright in carriage, and strong in build.
His capital consisted of a Board of Trade engineer's certificate, a pair of broad shoulders, a steady purpose, a determination to succeed, and a stout heart. These friends stood by him through life. It is to them that he owed a great deal of the credit for the things he did in the new land to which Fate was leading him, but which at that time had no place in his thoughts. He went to search for gold, but he was denied success in that direction in order that he might gain that which gold could not give.
At that time, however, it would have been impossible to shake the conviction in his mind that gold was waiting for him to pick it up from the Victorian goldfields.
Soon after he landed in Melbourne, therefore, he set out for the diggings. There he was quickly disillusioned. The paths were not strewn with nuggets. There were no paths at all, and nuggets gave very few signs of being more plentiful than at old Eccleston in the England he had left. He worked hard and searched diligently; but in vain. He found himself poorer
He was looked upon by the “hands” in the shop as a good tradesman and a first-class athlete. “He was always a politician,” one of his mates explained many years afterwards when Mr. Seddon was a conspicuous figure in the Empire's affairs. “Whether it was an election for a member of the House or for a town councillor, he was always head and ears in it, and would be discovered by old Houghton, the foreman, addressing a crowd of men in one part of the shop or the other. Houghton always knew who it was, and would say: ‘Now then, no more of that!’ and Mr. Seddon would reply quite cheerfully, ‘All right, Mr. Houghton;’ but ten minutes later he would be propounding the principles of his favourite candidate to another crowd not very far away. On one occasion he was reported for this to the head of the Department, or the Minister, for the Government employees were not then allowed to take any active part in politics. In the case mentioned, his man got into Parliament, so that nothing came of it.”
His fellow-workmen frequently admired his great physical strength. He took a delight in feats that were likely to cause envy. The shop in which he worked was 200 feet long. On one occasion, he walked its whole length with a 56 pound weight strapped to each foot, a 56 pound weight in each hand, and a 28 pound weight held by his teeth.
There was a gymnasium attached to the workshops. It was used by the men in the evenings, and Mr. Seddon was one of the
There was nothing that he would not attempt in the gymnasium, no matter how difficult it might be. Another member had only to say: “You can't do that, Seddon!” to make him reply: “Can't I, my boy?” and he immediately made the attempt, which was generally successful.
He seemed to be absolutely devoid of fear. “He was a regular dare-devil,” in the words of one of those with whom he worked; “but he was a very good-hearted fellow; he was foremost in subscriptions and acts of charity, and would do a good turn to anyone, if it was in his power.”
Outside of the gymnasium he proved himself to be a strong runner. He won the silver cup for general athletes at the Williamstown Eight Hours Demonstration, coming in first in the 100 yards, 200 yards, and 440 yards events. He joined the Williamstown Volunteer Artillery Corps, formed among the workshop employees, and was promoted to the rank of corporal, but got no further, not on account of want of force of character, but because he did not stay long enough to merit further promotion.
Williamstown was fated to play an important part in his career. While he was employed at the railway workshops, he became acquainted with Captain Spotswood and his family. There he met Miss Louisa Jane Spotswood, whom he asked to be his wife. Captain Spotswood was a grandson of a former Governor of Bombay, and the family did not give much encouragement to the young engineer. He and his sweetheart, however, plighted their troth, and Mr. Seddon found that the strongest of all impulses urged him on to make his fortune.
He was still convinced that his trade was not the thing for him. It was slow and tedious, offered no excitement, and failed to gratify his desire to push on in the world.
After he had been employed in the workshops for about a year, news came that rich goldfields had been discovered on the West Coast of New Zealand. An uncle of his wrote to him from the West Coast, and urged him to come, stating that the New Zealand climate was much better than that of Victoria, and the life of the colonists was freer, brighter, and happier.
Nothing would suit him but to leave his employment at the workshops and go to the new fields, to see if they would be kinder to him than those he had believed would be his making.
He left Melbourne in the “Alhambra,” and arrived at Hokitika, on the West Coast of the South Island of New Zealand, in 1866.
He found that life on the New Zealand goldfields was not a bit less picturesque than life in Victoria. It had the advantage of a more vigorous climate. Apparently, the diggers, on the whole, were as fine a set of men as could be found in any part of the world. That was the opinion formed by Mr. Seddon at the time, and the more he saw of the diggers the more he liked them and their rough-and-ready but manly ways. It may be said that there was none more rough-and-ready than he, and none more manly. As shown in other chapters of this book, he lost no opportunity to disabuse the public mind in respect to the class of men who toiled on New Zealand's goldfields. In Parliament, on the platform, and in private life, he declared that they were good citizens, and he saw no reason why they should not have the same status in the community as that of any other class.
In the pages of Hansard, and in New Zealand newspapers, he has often recorded his opinion of the West Coast miners. “At Hokitika,” he said on one occasion, “I came into contact with a body of men who, physically and morally, were unsurpassed as men, and who were the pick of the world. They needed great physique to stand the hardships and privations of life in those early days on the Coast. Mentally they stood out as men who not only had an adventurous nature, but also followed the craving to get away from the Old World environment. They wanted something new, and they went where they could find it. We had miners from Otago, Australia, and
Describing the hardships and dangers that had to be met, he stated that miners who went to the West Coast from Canterbury had to ford the Teremakau River sixteen times. It is only one of the madly rushing streams that stood in the way of communication between one district and another before bridges were constructed. The West Coast is a notoriously rainy district. The heavy rains swell the rivers, and the gold seekers had to swim the Teremakau nearly as often as they forded it. When there was one in the party who could not swim, a swimmer crossed with a long flax rope and fixed it to a tree on the far side, and the miner pulled himself hand over hand through the water. In some cases, rude rafts of the stems of the flax-plant were constructed after the methods adopted by the Maoris, and a primitive ferry service was established.
In those dreadful journeys dry blankets were unknown, and dry clothes were a rarity. “Yet, when you met these adventurers afterwards on the streets of Hokitika,” Mr. Seddon said, “you took them to be the happiest, merriest fellows on earth.”
A writer who was on the West Coast goldfields when the rush broke out has given a graphic description, which well represents the sights that met the keen eyes of the young engineer in search of adventure and fortune. This writer Mr. L. Northcroft.
“Prospectors,” he says, “pushed up the rivers and streams, and spread over terraces and hills, their enterprise almost invariably gaining a rich reward. ‘Pile’ claims, as they were known in Victoria, and in some of the Otago workings, were unknown, and no single claim yielded its owner more than £5000 a man. But there were many claims that would give from £10 up to £50, and sometimes £100 per week per man.
“Twenty different rushes would take place in a week, each more promising than its predecessor. Hokitika was the scene of
“The mining camps extended from the Grey along the beaches past such marvellous rich patches as Darkey's Terrace, along to Brighton, Charleston, Addison's Flat, the terraces north of Westport to the Mokihinui, and along the beaches and gullies still further north, and then up the Buller, past many rich streams to the Lyell, where the biggest nuggets on the Coast were found, and still on to the Maruia, and the Matakitaki.
“South of Hokitika was the great Totara goldfield, and the celebrated Ross Flat, probably the richest piece of alluvial ground yet discovered in the world, layer upon layer of alluvial wash, all carrying gold in large quantities. Then we have the Okarito goldfield, with the Three-mile and Five-mile Beaches, the tail box of the Waiho River, and still further south the famed Gillespie's Beach, Hunt's Beach, and Bruce Bay.
“Gold was found everywhere, and in amazing quantities. At the Five-mile diggers carried the gold dust to Okarito to sell in billies, their ordinary chamois leather gold-bags being too small to contain their rich harvests. It was a life of wild exertion and fierce excitement, which has no counterpart in these somewhat dull and decorous times. Those were glorious, riotous days, which seemed so good that no one believed they could end. Each one had secured the purse of Fortunatus, which could never be finished, and acted accordingly. There was an axiom, in which implicit reliance was placed in those days, that, if a man became saving and economical, his luck would desert him. It was not necessary to spend everything he got, but, above all things, he must not be mean. Illustrations of this were furnished wholesale. The steady, industrious man would be haunted by ill-luck, whilst the spendthrift always sank a golden hole, and never a duffer. A man would be making twenty pounds a week; by Wednesday he would be without a shilling. Saturday
This state of things did not last for ever, and it was not very long afterwards that thousands of miners in the district were glad to be employed at regular work for £2 a week.
Mr. Seddon's description of the miners is confirmed by the writer quoted, who says that their ages ranged from twenty to forty, men from twenty-seven to thirty-three years of age being in the majority, and they were a splendid type. “Full dress” on the goldfields consisted of a high slouch hat, the front turned up sharp and the back turned down; a crimson shirt with a knotted crimson silk scarf; a pair of moleskin trousers, with a bright yellowish tinge on account of the clay, which seemed to wash in but never to wash out; a crimson sash; “nugget” pattern boots; and a crimson silk laced cord round the crown of the hat. Full beards were worn, and the dandies prided themselves on the length and thickness of this adornment. Irishmen generally preferred green to crimson sashes, ties, and scarfs, but no other colours were used.
From Hokitika he went to the Old Six Mile diggings at Waimea, and, with a few mates, washed a claim on the Waimea Creek.
His knowledge of engineering was found to be very useful, especially in connection with the “Band-of-Hope” water-race. He was encouraged by his success in that direction, and, later on, urged the Government and the Westland County Council to undertake the construction of large water-races. This was done, and those works, some of which cost very large sums of money, have helped to bring about the prosperity the West Coast has enjoyed.
His luck was still “out” at gold-seeking, however, so he decided to make an entirely new departure, and opened a store at Big Dam.
He found that steady business was better than the chance of making a fortune suddenly and the certainty of having to endure many hardships. He prospered so well that he was able in 1869 to leave his store for a time, go for a trip to Melbourne, marry Miss Spotswood, who had been waiting for him for three
The next important change in his life was brought about by a “rush” to Kumara in 1874.
An account of how the “rush” that made Kumara famous took place, states that a gang of men had erected an illicit whisky-still at a spot in the bush. When they were digging down into the ground preparing for the still, they, like Dow in Bret Harte's poem, found what they did not seek: gold. They did not disclose their discovery, but remained quietly washing in the bush. A miner who had been “bushed” between Dillmanstown and Kumara saw the smoke of their fires and reached the spot. There he surprised their secret, which he reported to the miners. Mr. Seddon formed a party, went into the bush, and ascertained that another goldfield had been added to the list.
He removed his business and his family to Kumara, and the name of the town, which has grown up to a population of 2,000 in 1906, was associated with his own name throughout his career. In Hansard there are many references to the “Knight of Kumara,” as his fellow members of Parliament often called him. There are good grounds for the association of the man and the town. For many years they were one and indivisible. As he grew in influence among the miners, it grew in importance, only not so rapidly.
With his masterful manner and his thoroughness of purpose, he took charge of Kumara from its earliest infancy, nursing it and attending to its wants, and leading it along the rough road that most colonial towns have to travel.
On the New Zealand diggings, as on other goldfields, towns were established without much regard to surveys and skill in laying out. The streets were allowed to make themselves, with the result, as an old resident of the West Coast has said, that they were like a lot of dogs' hind legs, and meandered in and out wherever it was easiest for traffic to find its way amongst the houses.
Mr. Seddon saw the evil of the want of system in that respect. Being determined that his town would be better appointed, he induced the Goldfields Warden to go down and lay off a
As some reward for his services, one of the streets was named after him, and he lived in it for some years. More than that, he was elected the first Mayor of Kumara when it was promoted to municipal rank.
The little town has not progressed very rapidly, and there is not much likelihood that it will ever achieve greatness as it is understood in regard to colonial cities. A New Zealand journalist A member of the Lyttelton Times staff.
“Kumara is still essentially a mining township, prolific in hotels and permeated with the gold fever that, like the ague of the tropics, stays with the man it attacks until his last hour. Its residents live either by mining or by supplying miners. Gaunt flumes stalk across the country towards the titanic excavations that the driven water has made in the once smiling river flats, and black pipe-lines lie across the country like huge snakes. The bed of the Teremakau is disfigured by the many thousand tons of tailings that have been poured into it, and the whole landscape tells of man's strenuous search for gold.
“Yet, although it stands amidst a wrecked country, Kumara is very far from being unattractive. To the visitor from any other part of the colony it has the charm of originality, of life in a new form and under new conditions. The architecture is quite strikingly distinctive. The mass of the houses would seem to have been built in a hurry, as by men impatient over a labour that promised no golden return, and there is a general unpainted, rugged air that fits in well with the surrounding country. In common with other parts of the Coast, almost every house has the outside chimney, either of iron or of wood, lined with iron, telling of the wide open fireplace and of cheery log fires, and many have their scraps of garden, assisting materially to improve the general effect. Perhaps the most
By this time Mr. Seddon had become an influential man, well known all over the Coast, and well respected.
He developed a liking, which became a ruling passion, for public life. He loved contests, arguments, and vehement discussions. He found in them the same exercise for his mind as the sports ground afforded for his body. He did not realise it at the time, but he also found in his public duties the disregard of old-groove methods, the boldness and promptness of action, and the broad Liberalism that characterise the legislation of his greater days, when he became an imperialist and a humanist.
At the age of twenty-four years, he was the recognised “head-man” of the district. Disputes were referred to him, and hardly any public action of importance was decided upon before those concerned sought his advice, or received it, as he did not always wait to be asked.
By and by he was able to leave business and to engage in practice as a miner's advocate in the Warden's Courts.
He made a name for himself there, as he had done in other spheres of labour. By his impatience at official delay in opening up the Kumara field, he made himself disliked by
Knowing every water-right in the district and the history of every claim, Mr. Seddon was well armed against the lawyers who came from the large towns to conduct cases against his clients. One of these lawyers once remarked that he was a distinct loss to the legal profession.
At least one Warden Dr. Giles.
“Mr. Seddon's excellence as an advocate was necessarily somewhat impaired by the want of regular legal training, and this sometimes caused a certain want of proportion in the view which he took of the importance of the different parts of a case, and caused him to labour too much at some point which would really have been more telling if merely suggested. But I have as little doubt that, with a legal education, he could have made a great name at the bar as gratification in the knowledge that he was reserved for better and greater work.”
It would be futile to deny that Mr. Seddon was, even at this early date, a confirmed egotist. He had an unvarying belief in his own abilities. When an old digger declared loudly at a public meeting that “Our Dick'll be Governor of New Zealand,” the object of his enthusiastic prophecy was
Stories are told on the Coast to show the influence he exercised, and it is stated that on one occasion a dispute took place over pegging off some claims on a rich piece of ground. The majority of the miners interested contended that the minority, whose pegs had been shifted, had jumped their claims, and threatened to throw the offenders into the dam. Mr. Seddon addressed the clamorous majority, and, failing to get any satisfaction, challenged any single man to settle the matter with fists. There was no response, but the crowd became more reasonable. Then Mr. Seddon pointed out that the regulations provided for settling disputes without recourse to brute force, and that if they commenced with violence someone would probably have to suffer for it, and there was no saying where the matter would end. They agreed to interview the Warden, and the minority, who had taken the precaution to put in secret pegs, were easily able to convince that officer that they had a prior right.
On the Coast, as in the Victorian workshops, Mr. Seddon had very few equals in any branch of athletics in which he took an interest. Shortly after he entered Parliament, he happened one day to be in Goldsborough, when a publican, who had some reputation as a runner, expressed the opinion that “Dick was too fat to run.” Thereupon the member for the district offered to race him. A wager was made, the race was started, and the member easily outdistanced his opponent. “Well, old man,” said the winner, as they walked back to the starting-post, “you see I am not too fat yet.”
While he had his store at Big Dam, a miner, who was taking a short cut over a plank crossing the flood-gate, fell into the water. He had his week's provisions on his back. Luckily, it was a moonlight night, and Mr. Seddon was standing in front of his store. Hearing the splashing, he ran to the scene.
Another story which has often been told on the Coast relates that a bully, who had made things intolerable, insulted Mr. Seddon. This resulted in a fight and a complete victory for the man from Victoria. During the combat the brother of the bully had been profuse in advice and direction, and when the bully was beaten, Mr. Seddon challenged the brother to come into the circle, but he refused to do so. The second challenge appealed to the diggers' fancy, and, shouldering Mr. Seddon, they carried him to the township amidst hearty cheers.
The year 1869 was an eventful one for him in more ways than one. It was the year of his marriage, as has been stated, and it was the year in which he entered definitely upon his career as a public man.
On one day he offered himself to the miners as their representative on two local bodies, the Arahura Road Board and the Westland County Council. Bad tracks and worse roads were the grievances that actually called him forth. There had been great neglect on the part of the local authorities that controlled road-making work in the district. There were many complaints from the miners, but not the slightest notice was taken of them.
The miners thought that the young agitator would stir the authorities into some kind of activity. They therefore elected him at the head of the poll for the seat on the Road Board, but, being convinced that he was too young to take part in the work of the larger body, they made him stand by in preference to an older man. Only a few years passed, however, before he
The Road Board's affairs had been badly managed. Besides that, local government in New Zealand was not on a good basis in those days, and local bodies' powers and responsibilities were greatly restricted.
The older members of the Board, who were well acquainted with Mr. Seddon's capacity for making trouble where things were not done to his liking, did not look upon his success with a favourable eye. They recognised that he had been elected to the Board to urge them on. In order to secure some kind of revenge for the mild insult, they decided to place him in the chair, saying amongst themselves: “Perhaps the youngster can show us how to meet liabilities and make tracks without money.”
He was quite equal to the occasion. He accepted the position without hesitation. He ransacked the accounts, studied the Board's position, got a thorough grasp of it, and prepared a long report. His policy was retrenchment and “bluff.” In the first place he cut down the clerk's salary from five pounds to ten shillings a week, and economised in other directions.
In the next place, he induced the Board to announce that it would dismiss its servants, stop its works, and close its doors for twelve months, unless the County Council, the parent body, came to the rescue. The Council, which had not expected this peremptory demand, paid the required money into the Board's fund; the public servants were retained; the works in hand were pushed on; the tracks and roads were improved; and the young chairman became absolute dictator in the field of operations controlled by the Board, and held his position securely until the Board ceased to exist.
Time after time, in the House of Representatives, he showed similar powers of bold resolve and prompt action. The most notable illustration was in 1894, when he went to the rescue of the Bank of New Zealand, as related in another chapter. No responsibility was too great for him, and no danger deterred him from taking steps he felt were required to meet an emergency.
He lived at Staffordtown for some years, and was a member of the local School Committee. Tradition says that he who was to be the champion of “stone-wallers” in New Zealand did not hesitate to block discussion when it had exceeded the limits of his patience. A debate upon the appointment of a teacher to the school having lasted till four o'clock in the morning, Mr. Seddon, realising that the aim of his opponents was to postpone the fatal hour of division, moved that no more amendments should be taken. This was carried on the casting vote of the chairman, and the original motion, supported by Mr. Seddon, was then carried in the same way.
From the School Committee to the Board of Education was an easy step, and in 1874, when he became a member of the latter body, he played a prominent part in the struggle for secular education. The people were divided into secularists and denominationalists, and the conflict was marked by the peculiar bitterness that enters into most disputes based on religious differences. Mr. Seddon and Mr.
The people of Goldsborough still point out the old Hibernian School, a faded building. This school was the centre of a stirring debate, entitled “Sectarian versus Secular Education,” in which Mr. Seddon was opposed by a Roman Catholic priest. At the ballot, the miners, who did not approve of church interference in politics, supported Mr. Seddon's views, and the Hibernian School was closed.
On Westland being proclaimed a province, with a Parliament and a Superintendent of its own, Mr. Seddon took his seat in the Provincial Council as representative of Arahura. He became chairman of committees, but he could rise no higher before the provincial system of government in New Zealand was abolished, in 1876. Westland becoming a county again, he
A writer, who has worked with him on local bodies, states that he was all-powerful on the County Council. When persuasion and tact failed, he resorted to verbosity. “Fluent, loud, unceasing, and sometimes amusing, he carried the point he had in view by dogged, persistent talk. Worn-out members in sheer despair gave the Kumara orator his way, and he left for his home rejoicing. His rulings were nearly always accepted, whether he was right or wrong; his audacity carried him through.”
With May at his fingers' ends he was more than a match for them all; and the bewildered members would often rise from a meeting, after listening to one of his fiery speeches, lost in astonishment at the pitfalls they had dropped into, and at their own blundering stupidity. Mr. Seddon, who enjoyed nothing more than that kind of sport, would chuckle and smile to himself as he traced the consternation displayed on their countenances.
“Without being a money-grubber,” says another gentleman who knew him well, “he insisted on proclaiming that a labourer is worthy of his hire. Beyond travelling expenses, however, there was not much to be got out of public work, with one exception. This exception was the chairmanship of the County Council, which carried with it £250 a year and travelling expenses. The annual scramble for this prize was amusing, and was much enjoyed by a cynical public. There were nine members, and, as a rule, they were all candidates for the endowed chair. Of course the first man who got five votes took it. But the trouble was to get that number. Every member could depend on his own vote only, and it was sometimes hours before the game was played out.
“In this annual contest Mr. Seddon took a prominent part, as may well be supposed. When he did not secure the prize himself, which happened once or twice, he invariably managed to get the candidate he supported into the chair. Here again a knowledge of points of order, or disorder, were factors in his success.
“The first time he became chairman he demanded from an astonished Council £250 a year, travelling expenses, and a guinea a day while travelling. This was refused, so far as the guinea a day was concerned. The Kumara hero fought hard for his point, but was defeated. Had it not been for the fact that the Council was suffering from chronic consumption of the purse, he would have once more triumphed. He honestly thought himself worth more to the public than a less energetic and hardworking man.”
During all these stirring times, he was qualifying himself for the greater work before him. He could not have entered a better school of politics. He is not by any means the only New Zealand politician who has started in local government and has gone step by step to Parliament. Some of the best members of Parliament have found the Road Board, the Borough Council, and the County Council a splendid training ground, and all who have served their political apprenticeship on those bodies have been useful members of the larger body, which has benefited by the practical advice they have been able to give at all times on many different questions. Added to his training in public, Mr. Seddon lost no opportunity of increasing his knowledge in private life. He learnt May's “Parliamentary Practice” almost by heart, and other standard works on the practical part of Parliamentary work were among the few books he cared to read or study.
When Mr. Seddon first took an active part in Parliamentary work, the tumult of political strife resounded from every public platform in the colony.
Provincial government had been lately abolished. Party government had made its presence felt for the first time, and party lines were beginning to be clearly marked. Party feeling has never been more bitter.
It was a time of many changes. The country was bewildered at the rapidity with which moving tableaux were presented to its view, and it asked itself where its politicians were leading it. A Conservative Administration, crying aloud for political rest, had been driven from the treasury benches. An aged Premier, Grey by name and grey by years, had come from the seclusion of his beautiful island home at Kawau to offer the people their first Liberal policy. With silvery tongue and sweetly spoken words he asked them to enter upon a new era of legislative activity. He told them that they had a glorious future. He hailed them as the heralds of a greater nation than the world had yet seen. He appealed to fathers on account of their manhood, and to mothers on account of the millions yet unborn, and asked them to realise the splendid destiny that awaited them.
“Make homes for the millions,” he cried. “Give your women happy homes, and provide them with husbands who will help them to rear families in health and comfort. There should be a really temperate and happy population here. You must have good men with a stake in the country. You must have men who will be devoted to their country. You must turn New Zealand from a colony with a pauper population into one of the happiest countries in the world.”
The old man's eloquence fired the imagination of the people, who were struck with profound veneration at the sight of the Great Pro-Consul descending from the towering heights of intellectual superiority to take part in the humdrum affairs of colonial life.
Things had gone very smoothly with the governing class until he came to preach the new crusade, and wherever he spoke he created a political disturbance.
He justified his appeals by devising a policy designed to bring about at least some of the great things he promised.
Although his words were sometimes meaningless, his policy was firm, straightforward, progressive and sound. He declared that the voice of the tax-gatherer should no longer be heard in the houses of the poor. His first measure, therefore, provided for a land tax; his second reduced the customs duties on the necessaries of life; and his third sought to tax the incomes of companies. That was the method by which he intended to make property bear a larger share of the burden of taxation, and to relieve the working classes. The land tax was one halfpenny in the pound on all land exceeding £500 in value; a customs reform measure abolished the duties on forty-three articles, reducing the duty on tea from 6d. to 4d., and on sugar from a penny to a half-penny; and companies were to pay a tax of 3d. in the pound on their incomes. By an Electoral Bill he proposed to give the country manhood suffrage. By a beer tax of 1 ½d. a gallon on beer, which was expected to yield £30,000 a year, he intended to amend his finances.
He took office in 1877, and met Parliament in the session of 1878 in a hopeful spirit. It was soon seen, however, that Sir George Grey in Parliament was a different Premier from Sir George Grey on the platform.
His Ministry was weak and disorganized. The policy was the policy of the Premier, not of the Government. The Premier said one thing, the Colonial Treasurer said another thing, and the Attorney-General said yet another thing. Nobody knew where the party was going.
It was weak when the session began; it grew weaker as the session advanced. Towards the end the Premier was facing a
There was much thoughtless action. There were altercations inside the Cabinet, and only half hidden dissensions amongst Ministers in the House. The distracting session came to an end at last, but the Government's difficulties did not disappear with the departure of members from Wellington, and family quarrels became more public, more frequent, and more bitter.
Early in 1879, members of the Opposition were already negotiating for seats in the new Conservative Ministry, which they evidently expected to form shortly after Parliament met again. Sir
Thanks for telegram, just received. Concur as to Grey's objects. Confident such Ministry would not be supported by either House or country.
The Minister, puzzled beyond measure at the extraordinary message, which was signed by one of his strongest political opponents, believed that a veiled attempt was being made to induce him to desert his party.
Inquiries showed that the telegram should have gone to Mr. Waterhouse, a member of the Opposition in Wellington, who had telegraphed to his Christchurch colleague stating that a ministerial crisis was imminent, that there was little likelihood of a compromise, and that the Premier wished to compel his Ministers to resign in order that he might form a Ministry
The incident shows the eagerness of the Government's opponents to see it fall, and the confidence with which they relied upon getting into office.
Clearly, everything was ready for the Government's defeat. The Conservative Party seemed to be dying of old age just before Sir George Grey came to disturb its slumbers. When he sent it from the treasury benches, the shock and the surprise roused it into activity, and it came forward armed cap-a-pie, with more vigour and more stomach for fighting. Obviously, there was little chance of the Liberal Premier holding his position. His autocratic temperament estranged even his devoted followers. His quarrelsome moods became unbearable. He quarrelled with his enemies; he quarrelled with his friends. The only people he did not quarrel with were the public and the Maoris, both of whom he treated like children.
Difficulties crowded in. The Government had taken office in a year of plenty, when the finances were sound, the revenue was increasing, and the colony's progress was marked by a notable extension of the export trade. After less than two years of office, the Government had to face serious embarrassments. The colony was overtaken by a commercial depression, which came up suddenly like a summer storm. It could not have come at a more critical time. The land revenue, upon which the Colonial Treasurer had largely depended, fell off. The colony's finances were depressed. Unemployed gathered in the streets and abused the Government. Trouble arose with
When Parliament met in 1879 the Government's supporters were grumbling that they were not in the Government's confidence, and the Opposition was sure of victory. The Government brought down its policy again, improved, extended, and more progressive than ever. Sir George Grey believed that even if Parliament did not want the reforms he
A no-confidence motion, criticising his administration, but not his policy, was carried by a majority of fourteen. Obtaining a dissolution he went to the country, and preparations were made on both sides for a severe and bitter struggle.
For the first time the old Conservative party met organised opponents. Sir George Grey, in spite of his years, displayed extraordinary vigour. He flew from centre to centre, organising, advising, and exhorting. His voice was heard in all his opponents' strongholds. Carrying the war into their camp, he contested the Christchurch seat as well as his old seat at the Thames.
The hot blood of action surged through his veins, and his heart throbbed with the great joy of battle. He felt that he had put on the breastplate of righteousness and the helmet of salvation, and that he would defeat his enemies and lead the people into the pleasant places of political reform he saw in his dreams.
He spoke of a great nation that would arise in the South Pacific. He drew upon the learning of his cultured intellect, and quoted Cicero's orations and Pliny's letters as embellishments to his addresses. Wherever he went he had the same cry: “Education for your youths, manhood suffrage, equality of rank, and the earth for men and men's children.” The interest he had aroused a few years previously when he stepped from his romantic retirement into the centre of the colony's politics induced large numbers of new men to turn aside from their vocations and enter the field of strife.
Among these was Mr. Seddon. He was one of Sir George Grey's most ardent admirers from the first. In 1876, he had offered himself as a Liberal candidate for Hokitika. The other candidates were Messrs.
The electoral district included Kumara as well as Hokitika, and was large and unwieldy. In one respect, however, it possessed few of the distracting difficulties that often beset Parliamentary candidates. The miners' vote was the principal one, and the mining industry was practically the only one that had to be considered.
The names of the candidates as they appeared on the ballot paper were:—
Barff, E. Cumming R. Dungan, P. Reid, R. C.
They were all classed as “Greyhounds,” as Sir George Grey's young followers were called, except Mr. Barff, who was a sitting member and a follower of Sir
Feeling in favour of Sir George Grey was so strong in the district that there was little hope of the Conservative candidate securing a leading place. The people generally favoured the
The contest was more personal than political. The records of the election, which no one then regarded as of special historical interest, show that no candidate worked harder than Mr. Seddon. He had made up his mind to win the seat, and he set all his tireless energy and determination to break down the obstacles that presented themselves on the threshold of his Parliamentary life. One of those who saw him just before the election says that “day and night he was unwearied and unceasing in his efforts to draw his friends closer and placate his opponents.”
On nomination day a message was telegraphed to the leading newspapers of the colony stating that “Mr. Seddon is strong in Kumara; according to all accounts, he is a clever man, with immense energy, and any amount of push.” Another West Coast newspaper correspondent wrote: “It is to be hoped, for the sake of the occupants of the ministerial benches, that he will not succeed; if he does succeed, he will be a terror to them.”
Apparently Mr. Reid was the most popular candidate; but as polling day drew near Mr. Seddon forced himself forward, and those who were in the best position to judge recognised that the winning “ticket” was either “Reid and Seddon” or “Seddon and Reid.”
Mr. Seddon's first political speech, delivered in the Duke of Edinburgh Theatre, Hokitika, was a clear, plain, sensible, and vigorous statement of the policy which he had adopted, and which he followed with striking consistency throughout his Parliamentary life. Although he had already made a reputation for long speeches, on this occasion, when he might have been pardoned for over-stepping the mark, he kept well within the hour.
“I am not a stranger among you,” he began, “neither do I come without credentials.” Whether he was regarded as a
“I ask,” he said, “if this country is in a sound financial position? Six million pounds a year are required to carry on the government, and eight million pounds are imported from the Old Country. New South Wales, with a population of 650,000, owes £12,000.000; Victoria, with 860,000 people, owes £20,000,000; New Zealand, with only 440,000 people, owes £21,000,000; and the £5,000,000 about to be borrowed will make £26,000,000. The public debt amounts to £20 per head of population in New South Wales, to £23 in Victoria, and to no less than £62 10s. in New Zealand. I maintain that this colony has been pursuing an unsound policy. Something ought to be done to check the quantities of imported goods, and to foster local industries. With that object in view, it will be better for the people to pay a little more for a year or two. The sum of over £1,000,000 has been paid for locomotives that might have been made in the colony. Whatever our liabilities are, however, we, as good men and true, will have to meet them.”
He had a rough-and-ready, but characteristically practical, solution of the native difficulty, which was then a source of much anxiety:
“The colony, instead of importing Gatling guns with which to fight the Maoris, should wage war with locomotives. Perhaps, on account of my inexperience, I take a superficial view of the native difficulty; but I firmly believe that an outbreak of hostilities among the Maoris cannot be stopped in a better
Then, as later, he stood firmly against Chinese immigration.
“I do not think that the Chinese are desirable colonists. They are a nuisance in California, Victoria, New South Wales, and Queensland. There has been restriction on their immigration into those places, and New Zealand, unless she wishes her shores to be deluged by Asiatic Tartars, must follow suit. I would sooner address white men than these Chinese; you can't talk to them; you can't reason with them. All you can get from them is: ‘No savvy.’ The Chinese in San Francisco are entering into competition with women as well as men. There are Chinese cooks, Chinese washerwomen, Chinese everything: they are a hard pill to swallow.”
He declared for liberal land laws, and against “land-grabbers,” whose methods of securing large blocks of land he described graphically and humorously.
Speaking of local works, he said it was necessary to construct a railway which would unite the east and west coasts of the South Island. “In all human probability,” he asserted somewhat boldly, considering the position of settlement, “the line will pay as well as any other in New Zealand.” A burst of applause encouraged him to go further, and in the next breath he affirmed his belief that if he was elected he could prove that the work would be highly profitable. The vigour and determination in his tones showed that he would be willing to prove anything which might help the West Coast to a larger share of public money.
As the miners' champion, he denounced the gold duty as particularly obnoxious. The digger, whose average earnings were £2 a week, was taxed more heavily than any other member of the community, and the duty, he said, ought to be swept away.
He concluded his speech by saying that he was in favour of secular education, although, he thought, “the Government
It is on record in the local newspapers, which, like other institutions, were then in their days of small things, that the speech was followed by “loud and prolonged applause.” After the candidate had replied to a number of questions, some of them intended to be of a facetious character, a motion that Mr. Seddon was a “fit and proper person to represent Hokitika” was carried almost unanimously.
Mr. Seddon probably neve