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Chapter xv.
Sir George Bowen.

The new Governor set on foot inquiries as to the condition and future prospects of the Maori race. The Native Minister asked officially for information from the principal officers in “native districts.” The loyal natives throughout the colony were not slow in testifying their loyalty to the new Governor. Old Poihipi Tukeraingi, from Taupo, was first in the field, having written his address before Sir G. Bowen reached New Zealand. It was graciously acknowledged. Te Puni, the Ngatiawa chief, under whose protection the English had first found it feasible to settle at Cook's Straits, and without whose aid Colonel Wakefield could not have transferred the settlement from Petone to Te Aro, attended the new Governor's levée, under the load of many years. The old man told the Governor, who visited him, that old custom had passed away, and that most of his kindred had in the strife of recent years been led into Hau Hauism, or had become debauchees. Te Puni was isolated in Christianity within a quarter of a century of embracing it with his tribe. The Maori king had recently inclined to ancient custom by abandoning his name Matutaera (Methuselah), and adopting a pure Maori name—Tawhiao. A loyal chief, improving the illustration used by Sir George Grey, that he would dig around the Maori king till, like a tree, he fell, said to Sir George Bowen: “O Governor, Matutaera is now like a single tree left exposed in a clearing of our native forests. If left alone it will soon wither and die. My word to you, O Governor, is to leave Matutaera alonne.” Wiser than in 1860, or in 1863, the Colonial Ministry had reached the same conclusion.

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There was a great meeting early in 1868. Summoned by Tawhiao, numbers reported to exceed 3000 assembled at Tokangamutu in the Ngatimaniapoto territory. Rewi was there, and in enigmatic language, whose intent could only be surmised by Europeans, declared “fighting must cease. The sale of land must cease. Leasing land must be put a stop to. Such doings as selling and leasing must cease; then only will peace be made.” For the same reason that the Pakeha Maori extolled the Native Land Act, the patriotic Maori shrunk from it. But the meeting was considered ominous. It was feared that malcontents might combine against the new Governor. But between the sullen isolation of Tawhiao and Rewi and the savage incursions of the Hau Hau fanatics there was no coherence. Violent men found violent deaths. By war and disease the Maoris were decimated year by year, while Europeans multiplied. Sir George Bowen had hardly assumed office when the Ministry apprehended troubles about the Rangitikei-Manawatu block. Mr. Richmond (Native Minister) wrote urgently to Hori Kingi, to Parakaia of Ngatiraukawa, and to Rangihiwinui of Muaupoko. The Ministry began to look with favour on the appeal to the Native Lands Act, which had hitherto been avoided. The Court would settle the land dispute; let no blood be shed. The Governor looked to Rangihiwinui confidently, as one whose habit it was to maintain law and order. Parakaia answered that he had already exerted his influence, and was pleased that the Court was about to sit. Quarrelling would not be allowed. Rangihiwinui answered that he had written to urge the tribes to remain quiet.

The condition of the Maoris, in 1867, has been partly traced in previous pages. Their numbers were diminishing, in some places with frightful rapidity. The Central Waikato, who under Te Whero Whero (in spite of their defeat by Hongi's fire-arms) were regarded as the most powerful as well as most numerous of Maori tribes, had fallen from their high estate. Numbered at 18,400 in 1845, there were found only 2279 on their old territory in 1867. On them the waste of war had fallen with peculiar severity. The starved appearance of captured women and children betokened that the desolation of homes had been an effective weapon in General Cameron's campaign. There were exiles of their race wandering among friends, but the people

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whose gigantic proportions caused the wonder of General Pratt as he saw them on the field at Mahoetahi had in seventeen years dwindled to a dispersed remnant, who, if their hereditary abodes told truth, had been eight times decimated under the influence of civilization and war. The Ngatimaniapoto known as a Waikato tribe had suffered less than their northern brethren, and their lands in the Waipa had barely been touched by confiscation, although Rewi's old abode, Kihikihi, had been seized.

The tribe second in importance and numbers in 1845, the Ngapuhi, had now become the first. Yet they had decreased from 12,000 to 5804. Never at war against the English, the principal chiefs had frequently offered to furnish military aid against their countrymen. The same rate of decay marked the fortunes of other tribes, but as the divisions and subdivisions obtained at different periods vary in the reports, it would be difficult to make trustworthy comparisons of details. The general decline is told in the totals. In 1845 the estimate was 109,550; in 1848 it was 100,000; in 1858 a census gave a return of 56,049; in 1867 the same test showed only 38,517; but there were many whom no census collector found in the forests. Yet, amid the precipitous ruin of their nation, old men stood forth to prove the hardiness of the race. Waka Nene, in the north, with more than eighty winters' weight upon his head, still attended meetings, and with firm figure and voice declared that, as at Waitangi, so now, he pronounced that it was good for the Maori to accept the sovereignty of the Queen and the law of the Pakeha. Te Puni, his Wellington contemporary, similarly inclined towards the English, had also passed the ordinary term of human life. The Arawa had suffered in the service of the English, and were numbered at less than 2000. The Ngatiporou, if former returns were trustworthy, had decreased less rapidly than other tribes. They were 4500 in 1867.

The friendly tribes were reported to be, in the North Island: the Rarawa, 2671; Ngapuhi, 5804; Ngatiwhatua, 709; Wanganui, 1427; Ngatiapa, 325; Rangitane, 250; Muaupoko, 125; Ngatikahungunu, 2952; Arawa, 1951; Ngatituwharetoa, 500. The “hostile” were the Ngatimaniapoto, 2000; the Uriwera, 500. One tribe was summed up as the Ngarauru, “mostly returned rebels,” 400. The “mostly friendly” were said to be

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Ngatiawa, 1952, many Hau Haus; Ngatiruanui, 750, many Hau Haus. The “partly friendly, partly hostile,” were—Ngatimaru, 3670; Ngaiterangi, 1198; Waikato, 2279; Taranaki, 400; Whakatohea, 573; Ngatiraukawa, 1071; Rongowhakaata, 1000; Ngatiporou, 4500—many of each tribe being Hau Haus. In the Middle Island the Ngaitahu and Ngatimamoe were numbered as 1500, all friendly.

Amongst the reports furnished to the Government was one by the Pakeha Maori, F. E. Maning. He summed up the state of affairs as “a doubtful armed truce,” the result of physical exhaustion on the part of the natives, and pecuniary expenditure which the colonists found it impossible to continue. The rapid course of events is illustrated by the fact that not even Mr. Maning in writing of the war and its causes referred so far back as to the Waitara seizure in 1860. He admitted that natives had alleged that acts by Europeans drove them to arms; but knowing the abounding pugnacity of his comrades of old days he thought that they rushed to war of their own choice, weighed down by the conviction that, unless the English progress could be checked, the tribes would be trampled under foot and robbed of their country. If they had such a floating conviction, Governor Browne's conduct at Waitara would crystallize it into a hard fact, and make a resort to arms, in their own eyes a necessity, in the opinions of their English friends a certainty. Their wilful preference of Rewi's counsels to those of Te Waharoa proved how truly Mr. Maning gauged their warlike obstinacy, but did not remove the original wrong done to them. To the Native Lands Act of 1865 he looked as the only possible curative for their national ills. Already they valued its provisions, and in one district a tribe by no means numerous was receiving rents amounting to £40,000. Hau Hauism was not in his opinion worthy of notice. Such pretended revelations had been known in former times. It would die out with the hopes of the Maoris of success against the English. Various officers reported on various localities. The Maori king still maintained “the boundary line,” “Te Aukati,” over which no European was allowed to step, and which even a Maori friendly to the English could not pass. The Hau Haus at Tauranga imitated Tawhiao by establishing an “Aukati” in

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March, 1868, and the Civil Commissioner found it potent in preventing him from procuring information as to the disaffected districts. He was able to assert, however, that “the Uriwera and Whakatohea adhere to the horrible practices introduced by Kereopa, and every European or Arawa who falls into their hands is slaughtered without mercy, and their bodies subjected to the most revolting indignities.” The resident magistrate at Napier thought the New Zealand Government had no more to fear from Hau Hauism than had that of the United Kingdom from Fenianism, to which Hau Hauism bore “in many respects a strong resemblance”! The superstition was, he said, “generally abandoned when in March, 1866, Sir George Grey visited Napier, and by his personal influence induced Te Hapuku” with all his followers to take the oath of allegiance and surrender their flags. Since the Waikato war, even friendly natives had become lax in religious observances; and debauchery increased as the Maori associated more and more with the lower classes of Europeans. No enthusiasm had been excited amongst the natives by the Maori Representation Act. Some said (at Kororarika) that they ought to have been consulted as to the number of representatives, and that as the Pakehas had begun they ought themselves to carry out the plan. Some thought each tribe ought to have a representative. In depopulated Waikato no interest was displayed. At Napier, the resident magistrate was disappointed at the lack of attention to the proposed benefits. At Waimate the chiefs were apathetic-Taonui said that there would be “a word to attend to if the Maori members were to be equal in number to the European; but what were four among so many? Where will their voices be as compared with the Pakeha voices? How are the Maori members to understand the Pakeha,—the Pakeha the Maori? Is each man to have an interpreter by his side? If not, are they to listen and not understand?—to speak without being understood? Give the Aye without knowing what they say Aye to; and, by-and-bye, when some new Act bearing upon the Maoris is put in force, be told, Oh! you assisted to pass it? It will not do.” There was less apathy at Wairoa in the west, and amongst the Ngatiporou, than elsewhere. At Taranaki, Mr. Parris reported that the development of such a question as

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representation was rendered a matter of impossibility by the condition of the district during the war, and under the general confiscation of territory. Even the Native Lands Court in that unhappy district was a dead letter. There were no native lands to deal with. The treaty of Waitangi was overthrown. All Maori rights were deemed extinct, and the Settlements Act was the vehicle for re-distributing the land by sale, by gifts to friends, by dole to returning rebels. If an inconvenient judgment of the Compensation Court was apprehended, the Ministry eluded it by secret composition, and everything was deemed satisfactory. As for Tawhiao, with his adviser Rewi, they were supposed to be peacefully inclined if not interfered with in their pale, or Aukati. But contributions from distant tribes still flowed in to Tawhiao's exchequer, and the name of king was not without adherents. The Provincial Council at Auckland, in the end of 1867, had agreed to a resolution that to “secure the pacification of the country and the welfare of both races a general amnesty should be proclaimed with as little delay as possible.” The Government consulted Donald McLean at Napier. That gentleman apprehended danger from such a measure, but recommended a few objects of mercy. Mr. Stafford, in February, 1868, told Sir George Bowen that the Ministry could not advise the grant of an “indiscriminate amnesty of all political offences.” It would not tranquillize and would not be understood by the natives. Moreover, such an amnesty would include murderers. There were 173 political offenders at the Chatham Islands, whom 82 women and children had been permitted to join. Eleven of the prisoners had been allowed to return. The Under-Secretary of the Native Department, Mr. Rolleston, had recently inspected the Chatham Islands. The prisoners complained that they were compelled to work when ill. An old chief, declared by the doctor to be in good health, was thought by Mr. Rolleston to be in bad health, and the magistrate for whom the old man was working agreed with Mr. Rolleston. A sergeant, questioned by Mr. Rolleston, admitted that he might “have occasionally used rough measures in cases where the doctor said the prisoners were shirking their work on the unfounded plea of sickness. On their refusing to turn out I may have given them a kick.” Mr. Rolleston appealed to the resident magistrate against such

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“insult and tyranny.” The work to which the prisoners were put was described as building, planting potatoes, road-making, general, &c. The majority worked for the Government. The rate of pay was one shilling a day with rations. A few worked under contract with residents on the island, and thus, it may be hoped, escaped the boot of the sergeant-guard. The prisoners permitted to return to their native place, Turanga, wrote to the ‘Waka Maori’ newspaper, and speaking for their own people still confined, said they were grateful for being kindly treated, and would not join the Hau Haus if released. Horomona Tutaki was one of those recommended to mercy by Mr. McLean. His son Tamati Petera was not so fortunate. Tamati was ill, and Horomona begged that he might take him also to his home. Mr. Rolleston found Tamati too ill to be moved. “On asking Horomona whether he would stay and take care of him, he said he would. The sight of the two men with tears in their eyes was one of the most touching I have seen.” Such was the general aspect of the Maori race when Sir George Bowen arrived. His predecessor had left the land at rest. War there was none: but a band of Hau Haus of the Uriwera tribe had been lurking in the vicinity of Opotiki, and were supposed to be bent on mischief. They had been encountered by the military settlers on the 8th February, 1868, and six of them were killed,—only two Europeans being wounded. The losers had retired to the mountains. On the west coast, under Titokowaru, a large meeting held at Te Ngutu-o-te-manu, served to show the difficulty under which a Governor not trained to the task himself must labour in obtaining information. Mr. Parris, who had in 1859 lent himself to the conspiracy against Te Rangitake, reported in April, 1868: “I look upon the movement of the tribes in this province in convening these meetings as the best earnest of their desire for peace.”

Within a few months murders had been committed, property stolen, Maoris assailed, and Titokowaru was denounced as a rebel. Schools had ever been ardently sought for by the Maoris. The Arawa had made moving appeals for help. For this they held meetings, and though poor, pledged their substance. Land was given by the chiefs without stint. In wading through the records of the time one finds official statements which tell their own

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story in few words. 1st February, 1867: “Sir George Grey is supporting a school at his own expense, so that if the views of the committee can be carried out, schools will be available for children in the Maketu, Rotoiti, and Rotorua districts… The movement originated altogether amongst the natives, and they seem extremely anxious that their children should have the advantage of English teachers.” At a meeting of chiefs £100 a-year was guaranteed at Maketu, for Arawa schools, and a like amount was asked from the Government. One chief undertook to call on each parent, weekly, for the school fee of sixpence for each child. At one place a resolution, carried unanimously, enumerated the chiefs who were to contribute towards a schoolmaster's salary. But even in adopting European usages the chiefs gave them Maori peculiarity. A European tenant failed to pay his rent. The Maori landlord offered to fight for the amount “double or quits.” The tenant, a powerful man, was willing. In the struggle the settler was severely hurt and yielded. The Maori forgave the debt, saying, “Keep it to pay the doctor.” A chief surrendered, and was asked why he did so, when but a few days before he had been fighting. “The fact is, inflammation has damaged my right eye, and I can no longer shoot properly. In that last fight with you I missed two men whom I ought easily to have killed. The next day I went pigeon-shooting to get my hand and eye into unison, but I missed several times. So, as I could not shoot anybody, I came in and took the oath of allegiance.”

Such being the condition of the Maori race early in 1868, it may be well to take a comprehensive view of the European colonists and the results of their labours. From 172,158 in 1864 the white population had increased to 226,618 in 1868. Sixteen thousand homes had been acquired in the same period, and there were more than 54,000 inhabited houses in 1867. Sheep had multiplied from 2,761,583 in 1861 to 8,418,579 in 1867; cattle from 193,285 to 312,835; and pigs from 43,270 to 115,104 in the same period. The postal revenue had risen from £39,000 to £55,000. The value of exported gold was £1,800,000 in 1864; £2,700,000 in 1867. Wool exported was valued at rather more than £1,000,000 in 1864; more than £1,500,000 in 1867. The ordinary revenue had gradually risen from £815,000 to £1,225,000. The territorial, more fluctuating, under the

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operation of confiscation seizures and the Settlements' Act, was in 1864, £714,770; 1865, £500,045; 1866, £776,429; 1867, £561,730. An electric telegraph had been created in 1866, and some scores of thousands of messages had forthwith coursed along its veins. In one item there was diminution. The withdrawal of so many British regiments had contracted the shipping returns. The inward tonnage had fallen from 426,000 tons in 1864 to 309,000 in 1867. The increase of population had been mainly in the Middle Island. Auckland and Taranaki were almost stationary, while Wellington, as was natural for the metropolis, had increased. But Canterbury, with its offshoot Westland, and Nelson had grown; while Otago, though not leaping forward as in the first flush of the gold-fields' excitement, maintained its pride of place as the most populous of all the provinces. Immigration had declined after the richest gold-fields were occupied or exhausted. The maximum nett gain by immigration had been 35,000 in 1863. In 1867 it was nearly 5000. Judged by the standard which measures welfare by figures only New Zealand was rapidly rising. In the catalogue, the men, the goods, the gains of the colonists could go for much. But the “higher” gifts which bounteous nature hath inclosed in man, are sullied by the absorbing chase of gold. All were not demoralized, but the restless activity of its votaries, by influence and example, introduced a low morality into their private circles, and, eventually, into the Government. A gambling love of adventure intruded into halls of council. When corruption once eats its way, it overbears even those who scorn while they submit.

The immigration to Otago had not failed to cast upon New Zealand its share of the doom which can “place thieves, and give them title, knee, and adoration, with senators on the bench.” Yet, as in the man corrupted by temptation but supported by conscience, so in the community, ever by the side of the base a good genius will struggle. The men whom love for their fellows had sent as missionaries to the Maoris laboured also among their European kin. Bishop Selwyn was eminent. Not even his stand against the mean desires of the Taranaki settlers alienated public respect. He had found earnest fellow-workers in his Master's vineyard. With some of them the reader is acquainted.

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The names of Henry Williams, Archdeacon of Waimate; his brother William, the Bishop of Waiapu; Octavius Hadfield and Robert Maunsell ought not to die while Christian heroism is honoured among men. The devoted demeanour of native congregations and the deep-toned unison of the Maori responses, once everywhere observed, had, in many places, been overthrown in 1868 by neglect or by savage orgies; but a Church had risen up amongst the Europeans. Bishop Selwyn attended a conference of Bishops in England in 1867. He was invited to fill a vacancy in the See of Lichfield. The Prime Minister and, it was said, Royal persuasions represented consent as a duty, and he severed his connection with the land of the Maoris. It may be doubted whether it was on the whole the most desirable ending of his apostolic career in the south. But his prayers for justice to the Maoris having been spurned by the Government, and the faith of Maori disciples having been crushed under sense of wrong so that some looked upon him as an enemy, he may have accepted the belief that he could no longer serve his Master best in New Zealand. He did not welcome the change. He said at Oxford: “Twenty-six years ago I was told to go to New Zealand, and I went. I am now told to go to Lichfield, and I go.” He paid a parting visit to the colony in 1868. J. C. Patteson, who had been made Bishop of Melanesia in 1861, went from Norfolk Island to see his spiritual father once more, and thus described Selwyn's departure from Auckland. There were “crowded streets and wharf (for all business was suspended, public offices and shops shut), no power of moving about, horses taken from the carriage as a mixed crowd of Maoris and English drew it to the wharf. Then choking words and stifled efforts to say, God bless you, and so we parted.” In this world they were to meet no more. The General Synod of the Church in New Zealand presented to their retiring head an affectionate address, and to him was entrusted the duty of selecting the future Bishop of Auckland. The title of Bishop of New Zealand expired with his tenure of office. An address from a Maori congregation deserves a place in these pages. It was presented by the Rev. Matiu Taupaki, who led his countrymen in their affectionate efforts to do honour to the memory of Henry Williams:—

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“Sire, the Bishop. Salutations to you and to our mother (Mrs. Selwyn). We, the people of the places to which you first came, still retain our love for you both. Not to see you is a grief to us, and here we shall not see you again. We heard gladly that you were to return to us. Great was our joy. And now, hearing that it cannot be so, we are again sad. Sire, great is our affection for you both who are now being lost to us. But how can it be helped, seeing that it is the word of our great Queen? Our thought regarding you is that you are as the poor man's lamb taken away by the rich man. Our parting wish for both is this—Go, and may God preserve you both. May He also provide a man to take your place of like powers with yours. We shall no more see each other in the body, but we shall see one another in our thoughts. But we are led, and protected, and sanctified by the same Spirit. Such is the nature of this brief life, to sunder our bodies; but in a little while, when we shall meet in the assembly of the saints, we shall see each other, face to face, one fold under one shepherd. This is our lament for you in few words:

“Love to our friend who has vanished suddenly;
Is he a small person that he was so beloved?
He has not his equal amongst the many;
I long for the food which he dispensed…”

The special history of the Church of England in New Zealand will properly be sought in works devoted to that subject. The characters of Samuel Marsden, Bishop Selwyn, Henry Williams, and a few others who belonged to that Church, have made it necessary to weave into this narrative much which would under other circumstances have been excluded. Without Marsden the Maoris might not have welcomed the Gospel. Without Henry Williams, Hobson could not have negotiated the treaty of Waitangi. But for the manly protests of Selwyn, Sir W. Martin, and Archdeacon Maunsell, the nefarious schemes of Earl Grey might have found fruition in 1846. Without Selwyn it is probable that the career of John Coleridge Patteson would not have given assurance to the world that the highest type of the hero has not departed from the earth. But the internal organization of the various Christian denominations is hardly a matter of general history. When the State assumes the position that the public conscience is absolved from reverence for, and inculcation of, the highest truths, it removes them from its public life. Professing that where there are differences of opinion the State

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ought to do nothing, it applies to the moral world a rule which it dares not to apply to the physical. It will have its reward. Indifference pleaded as a necessity degenerates into contempt. That which the State neglects or despises will become the object of aversion in the eyes of the ignorant, the worthless, and the designing. The idle plea that the State cannot support one form of religious teaching without persecuting others is refuted in modern times in many lands. An honest attempt to provide secular education at the cost or partial cost of the State, and to afford ample facilities for the inculcation of religious truth by parents or friends of children has never been unsuccessful. But the abandonment of the higher interests of man by the State has been followed in some cases by a crusade on the part of the Government against their promotion, and thus in the name of liberty of conscience an almost unmatched violation of it has been perpetrated.

Though no details are needed about ecclesiastical affairs in New Zealand, it may be well to mention that during Selwyn's primacy various bishoprics were created, over one of which William Williams presided at Waiapu. The question which had vexed the branches of the English Church in Canada and in Australia, concerning their connection with the parent body in the United Kingdom, and their powers of self-government, was much discussed in New Zealand. Selwyn preferred a voluntary compact to permissive legislation by the State. A General Synod and Diocesan Synods were organized in accordance with his views. One of the first acts of the General Synod in 1859 was to adopt a resolution binding the members, by “voluntary compact,” to fidelity to the standards of the Church. From his point of view the Bishop thought such a compact sufficient, and preferable to a foundation laid upon colonial legislation. But it may be questioned whether in either aspect he was right. If the members of the first Synod had power to declare to what doctrines they would adhere, it was open to them to fix upon some other standards than those of the Church of England. If their profession of the doctrines of that Church rendered them incapable of exercising such power their voluntary compact was idle. In Canada, in Victoria, and in Tasmania, the members of the Church obtained permissive acts to enable them to govern

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themselves and manage their temporalities without any departure from the authorized standards of the parent body. They did not thereby ask for interference in spiritual matters. Sections of a community which, in order to manage their own business, apply for legal permission to embody themselves in corporations or in companies, do not derive their principles from the Acts of Incorporation. They acquire the power to enforce legal penalties, and it would be contrary to all civil polity that without legal sanction any imperium in imperio should be created with powers which might invade the laws or the liberties of the people. Moreover, the voluntary compact chosen could not keep the internal affairs of the Church from possible purview of the State. In the administratio rei familiaris it has been laid down that on reference to a civil tribunal, in case of resistance to the order of a colonial bishop, “the court would have to inquire not what were the peculiar opinions of the persons associated together in the colony as members of the Church of England, but what were the doctrines and discipline of the Church of England itself, obedience to which doctrines and discipline the court would have to enforce.” The same rule applied to other religious bodies. The Judicial Committee of the Privy Council declared (Long v. Bishop, of Cape Town, 1863) that “the Church of England in places where there is no Church established by law, is in the same situation with any other religious body, in no better but in no worse position.… The tribunals constituted (by religious bodies) are not in any sense courts… they have no power of their own to enforce their sentences, they must apply for that purpose to the courts established by law, and such courts will give effect to their decision as they will to the decisions of arbitrators whose jurisdiction rests entirely upon the agreement of parties. These are the principles upon which the courts in this country have always acted in the disputes which have arisen between members of the same religious body, not being members of the Church of England.” One consequence of this, and of a confirmatory judgment by the Privy Council (on petition of Bishop of Natal, 1865), was that the New Zealand Bishops united in a petition to the Queen to release them from their Letters Patent, and to recognize their inherent competency to consecrate and elect

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Bishops in conformity with the regulations of the Synod without Letters Patent, and without Royal Mandate. Having travelled thus far for sanction, the Bishop and his friends did not, nevertheless, adopt the simpler method of asking for an enabling Act in the colony which, without dealing with religious tenets, might empower the members of the religious body, subject to its fundamental doctrines (which it would have to prove on any occasion), to manage their own affairs. But the Bishop and his immediate friends shrunk from what seemed to them a recognition of the right of the secular Colonial Legislature to make laws for the Church. They fondly hoped that they could govern the composite machinery of affairs in the nineteenth century upon the principles which were sufficient in primitive societies. Neither in Canada nor in Victoria had the secular Legislature meddled with spiritual affairs. The spiritual body asked and obtained only that legal sanction which was requisite to enable it to control its temporal affairs. Having secured that sanction, the Churches in Canada and in Victoria could in case of need proceed, decently and in order, to obtain temporal justice in administering their affairs.¹ The common sense required in conducting the temporal affairs of the Church soon called upon the Bishop to abandon his ideal. How could the law sanction trusts unless their objects were known or recognized? The voluntary compact was made in 1857, and in 1858 the Colonial Legislature was appealed to, and consented to pass an Act authorizing Bishop Selwyn to convey to other trustees the lands and hereditaments theretofore held by him as a corporation sole. Again in 1865, with similar objects in view, the Legislature with equal readiness passed a measure which the members of the Church thought needful to enable the various Diocesan Synods in New Zealand to hold and vest lands in such

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manner as the General Synod had previously been empowered to hold and vest them. The great law-reformer of England, Edward I., had engrafted upon English institutions principles which had life at the uttermost ends of the earth, and which while Englishmen are worthy of them will stifle the attempts of traitors, foreign or domestic, who would mar the liberties of England.

It need hardly be said that in founding schools and colleges the Bishop was untiring. At Auckland, Sir William Martin aided in preparing Maori students for the ministry; and thus without money and without price performed services which in this world neither could nor would be rewarded. Of the Maori clergymen thus trained, Bishop Selwyn was able to say, when he bade farewell to New Zealand: “Our native clergymen need not return, because they have not swerved; it may be said of each of them, like Milton's seraph Abdiel, ‘Among the faithless, faithful only he.’ Though they be few in number, they have ever been faithful to that faith which they have espoused, and still the native Church is full of vitality and hope.” In New Zealand no apostate priest was found ready to abjure his faith. The Carmagnole of the Hau Haus was terrible, but it had not the ingredient which the miserable Gobel added to the horrors of 1793. Selwyn's testimony to the faithfulness of the native clergymen in 1868 was confirmed by Hadfield (then Bishop of Wellington) in 1881. In the other provinces the Church of England had made progress, but was not specially endowed as in Canterbury, the scene which Gibbon Wakefield had chosen for his experiment, when, reflecting on the higher aspects of national colonization, he deliberately accepted it as the duty of colonizers to make adequate provision for religion. In Otago, for the same reason, with an impartiality which redeemed him from all suspicion of bigotry, if not of serious preference in matters of faith, he promoted the formation of a Scotch Presbyterian settlement. The land reserves, though not set apart by the power of the State, remained for the benefit of the Presbyterian Church when the general affairs of the settlement were absorbed into the political systems of government, provincial and general. Bishop Selwyn, with wise forethought, procured in newly-formed townships, sites for the uses of the Church, and thus at trifling cost

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obviated difficulties which in after-time might have been found insurmountable. The Wesleyan body sent early missions to the Maoris, and though they had not been presided over by men of the stamp of Marsden, Williams, Patteson, and Selwyn, they had made many converts. When European population increased, the Wesleyan pastors, as usual, laboured strenuously in their vocation. In every province their functionaries were multiplying with the expansion of population. The Roman Catholic mission had been sent to the islands, when it was hoped that they might become not an English but a French possession. When the French scheme of annexation was frustrated in spite of the French Bishop's opposition, which was adroitly veiled when made, and was denied with the hardihood of the sinning St. Peter when its acknowledgment seemed impolitic—a hardihood which the French Peter did not repent—the Roman Catholic mission laboured with earnestness. The Church of Rome had many votaries amongst the European immigrants. At Wellington there were places of worship numerous and various enough to meet the wants of a metropolitan population. Taranaki, retarded in many ways by the sins of the people, was not without places to preach in, but preachers were sometimes wanting. Te Rangitake had a church at Waitara, which did not decay, but was burnt. There was some sense of the fitness of things in the destruction. When the congregation were to be slaughtered or driven away, there was an incongruity in sparing their church. The work was to be thorough. Thus only could Colonel Browne and his Ministers maintain the dignity of their country and the honour of the Queen.

The mission in Melanesia was in a manner connected with New Zealand, because its first founder, Selwyn, and its martyr, Patteson, laboured there to instruct pupils, whom at the risk of life by heroic humanity they gathered from the islands of the Pacific. The tale, however, is not so closely connected with the history of New Zealand as to demand detailed narration in these pages. It may be mentioned that in 1847 Selwyn made a voyage in H.M.S. ‘Dido,’ to explore. He volunteered and was allowed to act as chaplain and instructor on board, while the chaplain of the ‘Dido’ remained at Auckland. Soon afterwards in a petty schooner, the ‘Undine’ (21 tons), he commenced a series of

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voyages in the Pacific. In process of time larger vessels were procured. During Selwyn's visit to England in 1854, John Coleridge Patteson dedicated himself to the work in Melanesia until his martyrdom. In 1856, Patteson had visited with his Coryphæus twenty-seven islands, and was able to preach in their own tongues to Maoris, Solomon Islanders, and others. Pupils from the islands were collected at Kohimarama, near Auckland, and there taught, until in 1867 the establishment was transferred to Norfolk Island.¹ Patteson conversed in more than twenty languages with his pupils. In 1861, he was consecrated Bishop of Melanesia by Selwyn and his brother Bishops of Wellington and Nelson. In 1868, Patteson joined the New Zealand Bishops in a farewell address to Selwyn when he left New Zealand for Lichfield; and, when his child in the spirit was slaughtered in vengeance for the crimes of others at Nukapu, in 1871, it was observed that Selwyn seemed suddenly older. But his faith was triumphant over grief; for though his voice was tremulous, he added to the words, “We thank Thee for all Thy servants departed this life in Thy faith and fear,”— “especially for John Coleridge Patteson.”

The provinces in New Zealand had not been idle with regard to public education, although war-taxes and pressure of various exigencies had cramped their powers. There were Colleges, or High or Grammar Schools, at Otago, Canterbury, Nelson, Auckland, and Wellington. In 1867, the Rev. F. C. Simmons, Rector of the High School at Otago, apprehending that the time was not ripe for founding a local university, petitioned the Assembly in favour of State-founded scholarships for New Zealand youths at English universities. Wentworth had in 1851 induced his countrymen to found the university of Sydney, and in 1853 the colony of Victoria followed the example of New South Wales. Both Houses of the New Zealand Legislature appointed Select Committees with power to take evidence. Many witnesses advocated the foundation of a university in New Zealand, but

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neither of the Committees could recommend such a step, although both advised that blocks of confiscated lands should be set apart at once for a future university. Confiscated lands furnished to New Zealand statesmen in such a case the same relief that the Custom House provided for one generation of Australians in financial difficulties, and which spoliation or class-taxation promises to provide for another. In each case the process was too inviting to be resisted, and was simplicity itself. The Maori and the Custom House could be bled freely. To the one goods must come to be taxed, the other could not remove his birthright—the land. The system contained the germ of future woe, for when the last life-drop has been drained in each case, an appetite suckled on injustice and grown to full estate will look round for other prey, and fasten its teeth on the fattest of the herd around. But few colonial statesmen troubled themselves with such speculations. Witnesses were not wanting to advocate the foundation of a New Zealand university on high social grounds, and in a few years their arguments prevailed. Sir William Martin was one of those who supported it. Mr Justice (C. W.) Richmond was so adverse as to write, “The time even for an Australasian university is not yet in my judgment come, and may never come.”

One of the early efforts of English colonies is to provide, as soon as they can afford it, regular communication with the mother country. Business relations demand it, and men prompted by adventurous or ambitious spirits recognize the pressing claims of their daily avocations. Ignorance of events may mean ruin to him, the fruit of whose toil is dependent on distant markets. But a holier motive permeates colonial society. While a settlement is young its component parts are chiefly exiles from homes, where reside mothers, sisters, and all the kindred whose memory is interwoven with the very chords of life. The families of enterprising colonists may have consented to their banishment, but yet it is banishment; and a brave wife has often accompanied her husband with the consciousness at her heart that she was too old to be transplanted from her native land. Striving then to do her duty in her new sphere, contending with new privations, embracing new duties, teaching her children, and learning the while, herself, in order to be able to

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teach what she had not been taught, such a heroine made many a home in the colonies full of hearts yearning for closer communion with the friends of youth. Added to these motives, the crude curiosity of mankind eager for new things, sufficiently accounts for the fact that postal communication finds early prominence in colonial affairs. To a newspaper editor the world without his columns would be a blank. Conferences on the mail services were held between representatives of various colonies, and there was much correspondence upon the route to be adopted and subsidized.

Amongst their efforts to beautify the land of their adoption, the New Zealand colonists bestirred themselves in importing animals. Prince Albert presented various deer. Pheasants found a congenial home in the land of fern. To the chaplain of the Bishop of New Zealand, the successful introduction of the common bee was due. Acclimatization societies were established at Auckland, Wanganui, Ahuriri, Wellington, Nelson, Canterbury, Otago, and Southland. The land, famous for its natural scenery, bid fair by the acquisition of beautiful forms from other climes to rival them all in its charms. Within a few years of the liberation of skylarks, their carol was poured as profusely upon Maori air as over the heathery downs of England.

After a welcome at Auckland from thousands of Englishmen and Maoris in March, the new Governor paid a visit to the Bay of Islands, where the Ngapuhi tribe were enraged at the cowardly attack in Sydney, by a Fenian assassin, inspired by rebellion and drink against the Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Alfred. The prince was to have visited the tribe, and they expressed their indignation at the arrest of his plans. Sir George Bowen met them on the historic site where the treaty of Waitangi was made in 1840. There, again, the old warrior, Waka Nene, met the Queen's representative in 1868. Though now weighed down by more than four-score years the old man rose, and in presence of Maoris and Englishmen, who knew that his control had mainly brought about the treaty of Waitangi, struck the ground vigorously with his staff, and reminded them that on that spot more than a quarter of a century before he had counselled the fathers of the living generation to place themselves under the shadow of the Queen and of the law. He

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knew that he had then counselled well, and now he urged the sons of his former friends to live in peace and brotherhood one with another, and with the Pakeha in the time to come.

In May, 1868, Sir George Bowen visited the Waikato district. At Ngaruawahia he was received by military settlers and by Maori allies. Near the tomb of Te Whero Where, friendly chiefs addressed Sir George Bowen, and he volunteered to cause the tomb of the Maori king to be repaired and preserved in honour of that “famous chief of old time who had never made war against the Queen.” One of the chiefs had asked if the treaty of Waitangi was still in force, and prompted by his advisers, the Governor replied that it was. The son of the king-maker was one of those who met him at Hamilton, and though on each side were scars of recent wounds, the Ngatihaua and the military settlers intermingled with friendly courtesies. He described to the Secretary of State the novel scenes through which he had passed, and the effect produced upon his mind. He had been warned, and now saw, that New Zealand was a reproduction of Scotch life in the 18th century. The strife of tribes was but a southern repetition of the feuds of the Campbells and the Macgregors. Even the carrying about of the head of Captain Lloyd was exceeded, according to Macaulay, by the exploits of the Macgregors, who placed the head of an enemy before a sister, maddened at the sight; and the Macdonalds surrounded a church and burned the congregation, mingling the harsh triumph of bagpipes with the shrieks of victims. The Maori “aukati,” the impassable line with which the Maori king had surrounded his territory, was but the Irish “pale,” with the difference that the invaded, and not the invaders, established it in New Zealand. Mr. Firth and Mr. Buckland had lost 200 cattle, 50 by escape of the beasts from their drivers, 150 by seizure by Maoris who drove their booty to king Tawhiao. Mr. Firth saw Mr. Stafford, and deprecated violence, and the Government did not make the outrage a cause of war. Mr. Firth wrote letters to Tamati Ngapora, the king's chief adviser, and to the son of the king-maker. Tamati Ngapora sent back the stolen cattle. Orders were given to collect the stragglers, and Mr. Firth was informed that those which had been killed should be paid for. Mr. Firth declared that there could be but one

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opinion of the very handsome manner in which the king and his counsellor had behaved. Sir George Bowen told the Secretary of State that the case was a reproduction of the cattle-lifting, described by Sir Walter Scott in ‘Waverley,’ where Fergus McIvor anticipated the part of the Maori chief. He did not expend his illustrations without a purpose. The New Zealand Ministry did not desire that the last regiment should be withdrawn. Their fears found an echo in the Governor's despatch. He was informed that loyal tribes would be disheartened, and construe the removal into an expression of the Queen's displeasure. In short, the loyal clans would view the “entire withdrawal of Imperial troops with feelings similar to those with which the Hanoverian clans in Scotland 150 years ago, while exposed to the vengeance of their Jacobite neighbours, would have regarded the removal of the English garrisons from Inverness, Fort William, and Stirling.” After their assertions of self-reliance the Ministry could with ill grace ask directly for the retention of the troops, but it was hoped perhaps that the classic illustrations of the new Governor would divert the mind of the Secretary of State from his determination.

The Duke of Buckingham was impervious to any history not contained in recent despatches of the Department over which he had been called to preside at short notice, and which he was soon to leave. In May he had written that the 18th Regiment was to be removed from New Zealand to New South Wales. In September he dismissed Sir G. Bowen's elaborate illustrations and consequent request with brief thanks, and a reference to the previously-announced instructions for the removal of the regiment, which there was no intention to replace. Sir George Bowen visited other portions of his territory. At Tauranga the chiefs, recently hostile, assembled to greet him, and the settlers invited them to a dinner given in honour of the Governor. The chairman, a military settler, proposed as a toast: “Our guests, the Maori chiefs, lately our brave enemies in war, and now our friendly neighbours in peace.” Five chiefs responded with “the fluency, humour, and eloquence of their race.” At Maketu the Arawa performed their war-dance before the Governor. They, like the Ngapuhi, were indignant at the cowardly assault upon the Queen's son, and entreated that they might

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“be led against the Fenians.” At the school at Maketu the Governor observed a proficiency equal to that attained by Europeans. Opotiki, Turanganui, Napier, were visited. At the latter place about 200 families were receiving £26,000 a-year as rents. The Ngatikahungunu did not greet the Governor with the Maori dance, but with Maori guards of honour commanded by chiefs wearing English staff-uniforms. The desire of the Arawa to be allowed to chastise the Fenians was not so Quixotic as might be supposed in England. Some of the disorderly elements gathered at the gold-fields of the Middle Island excited such uneasiness in 1868, by a display of Fenian sympathies, that troops were made ready for landing at Hokitika, and a few ringleaders were arrested and convicted, but were leniently dealt with. Sir George Bowen did not extend his journey to the Wanganui and Taranaki districts in 1868. There were troubles there in April, May, and June. The Commissioners, a majority of whom had exculpated Colonel McDonell for his conduct at Pokaikai, had sat at Patea and at Wanganui in March; and it will be remembered that McDonell attributed Titokowaru's rebellious disposition to the loss of prestige which the inquiry inflicted upon the hero of Pokaikai. McDonell himself was sent, at the end of March, to Hokitika, to deal with the Fenian plotters, and took thither about 80 of the armed constabulary. He returned in May and found that the Maoris had become troublesome at Patea. His own narrative¹ states that natives had been stealing horses, and that “Mr. Booth had been arresting the wrong persons, and then releasing them again; this aggravated the natives and complicated matters very considerably.” From a Maori point of view the situation was indeed provoking. Under Governor Browne, the Colonial Government had refused to recognize the well-known Maori collective title to land. Under Governor Bowen it proceeded to create a collective responsibility for private theft. If a low-born Maori stole a horse, a chief who derived his honours from a long line of ancestors was seized by armed men. It was as if for the act of a horse-stealer in Hertfordshire the lord of Hatfield House had been cast into chains. McDonell's mode of

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management could not but provoke a race like the Maori. Katene, Titokowaru's tribesman, who had joined McDonell's force, declared that mischief was brewing, and warned his commander that in future the Maoris would not defend their pahs, but fight in guerilla fashion, which their knowledge of the intricacies of the country would make effective.¹ Some arrests were made. The Pakahope hapu held a meeting, and disturbance was allayed by an undertaking that the Europeans and the chiefs should combine to prevent disorder. But the authority of chiefs could not restrain all evil-disposed Maoris. It had long been known that the ancient Maori rule had waned under the influence of European civilization. It will be remembered that at Waitara, Mr.C. W. Richmond declared: “The issue has been carefully chosen, the particular question being as favourable a one of its class as could have been selected.” In 1868 it devolved upon his brother, Mr. J. C. Richmond, to write that “a case of robbery of horses and other effects was chosen to check the evils” on the west coast. Mr. Booth, the magistrate, directed Colonel McDonell to arrest three chiefs, Toi, Hahuwhenua, and Ihaka, whom he suspected of stealing horses belonging to Mr. Booth and two other persons. McDonell obtained a warrant from Booth. With a force composed of armed constabulary and settlers, McDonell marched by night to Te Ngutu-o-te-manu. He arrived at the conclusion that warning was given, and the objects of the warrant escaped. He was hospitably entertained at the pah by Titokowaru and others, and in the morning expressed to the chiefs his regret at the thefts committed by the ungrateful Maoris. He seized a chief, Tauke as a hostage and carried him off to Waihi. He declared in his printed narrative that he guaranteed the safe return of Tauke, even if he should be proved to have stolen the horses.

Natanahira strongly urged Mr. Booth not to sally forth to seize the missing horses. Natanahira went himself and recovered some

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of the horses, but not Mr. Booth's. That gentleman determined to seek his own. With an armed party furnished by McDonell (reluctantly, according to the statement of the latter), Booth proceeded. McDonell declared that he thought “bloodshed certain” to ensue, and he followed Booth with an armed force. Booth, arriving at Te Ngutu-o-te-manu, ordered the arrest of a chief, Kohiri. Roughly seized, Kohiri resisted and called on his people to rescue him. They did so. Booth seized three Maoris and, perceiving guns pointed at his men, yielded to Katene's advice, relinquished Kohiri, retreated, and met McDonell. Tauke, the hostage, had accompanied Booth; and, during the scuffle in the pah, had called out, “Be careful; McDonell is at hand with a large force.” The Native Minister reported the result thus to Sir George Bowen: “Two of the prisoners were quickly released, as nothing could be proved against them: the third, Ihaka, was detained, but subsequently made his escape.” Such proceedings boded ill for the peace of the district, and none but those incapable of reasoning could doubt that disturbances would follow. Tradition, hatred, injured dignity, all prompted Ihaka to revenge. In June a settler was murdered in the bush in the vicinity of Pungarehu. Mr. G. S. Cooper, Under-Secretary for Native Affairs, in a careful report of later date, speaking of the arrest and escape of Ihaka, said: “A few days afterwards the murders were committed, which, according to Maori custom, commenced open war, and Ihaka was one of the murderers.” The case chosen to check evil, in 1868, was thus, like that of 1860, tainted by irregularity, injustice, and folly. It was at once seen that the provoker of war was without sufficient means to wage it. Colonel McDonell went to Wellington for reinforcements. He complained afterwards that the Ministers did not recognize the danger, or accord him sufficient force. To his original strength of 100 men, 300 militia and volunteers with 50 Maori allies were added. The Native Minister thought the outrages had been committed by a few savages with whom the bulk of their countrymen had no sympathy. The disturbance would, he thought, be short, and would “hasten the peaceful settlement of the district.” Thus he wrote (5th July) a few days before the General Assembly met; and the Governor transmitted the pleasing fallacy to England on

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the following day. Before the Native Minister and Governor had thus written, Titokowaru (whom Mr. Parris had described as a leading chief on the west coast, and whose exertions in promoting good feeling had been highly commended in several reports) had issued (25th June) a peremptory order that travelling in the district and intercourse with Europeans should cease. With hideous Maori metaphor he wrote to a tribe friendly to the English, that he had begun to eat human flesh, and his throat was constantly open for the flesh of man. A trooper was cut down in sight of the Waihi camp—only the legs could be found by his comrades.

The Governor had recently written to the Secretary of State: “I shall apply myself diligently to the study of the native language and annals”; and when the manifesto of Titokowaru reached him he must have sighed for more knowledge or more trustworthy advisers. He reminded the Secretary of State that “positive and reiterated orders” prevented the 18th Regiment from assisting to subdue Titokowaru. A redoubt, Turo-turo Mokai, held by an officer and 25 of the local forces, was surprised, and before Major Von Tempsky dashed up from Waihi in time to see the conquering Maoris retire, Captain Ross and seven others were killed or wounded. Of the attacking force about 12 were wounded or killed. One of them was a near relative of Katene. While McDonell was absent from the district, charges of theft had been brought against Katene, and the resident magistrate sent him to gaol for three months, at Patea. McDonell, on his return, caused the gaoler to escort Katene to McDonell's quarters, and there discussed his future plans with his scout and guide. The conversation was long, and McDonell invited Katene to remain in his house, promising that, as a reward for information, Katene's sentence should be remitted in the morning. Katene preferred to return to the gaol where he had his bed. McDonell went with him. The gaol was locked, and the gaoler was absent. Katene climbed up to a gable window, and said to McDonell: “It's easy to get in, but easier to get out.” “Why, then, did you stay?” “Oh ! I thought matters would go rightly on your return. If not, you would not have found me here.” When this cool and daring scout approached Turoturomokai with McDonell, the first object he saw was his dead relative. McDonell dreaded lest the Maori lust for revenge

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should prompt Katene; but the latter betrayed no symptom of displeasure. He talked confidentially with McDonell until two o'clock on the following morning, and left his commander lulled in temporary security. But in a moment he acted. Silently he roused his people, and bade them muster at his tent. “You know where I have been?—Yes, in McDonell's whare.” “I have,” replied Katene; “and he is distrustful. He means to murder you as spies and traitors. But for me it would have been done to-night.” Te Hira (a Wanganui chief who resided with Katene's people) was seized, bound, and gagged; and before day-dawn, Katene, with all his people, had rejoined Titokowaru. Colonel McDonell's force having been raised to 700 Europeans and 300 Maoris, he prepared to attack Titokowaru in his pah. The Governor suggested that if the colonial forces should receive a check, there might be a general rising. The intentions of the Maori king were unknown. Mete Kingi, a member of the House, wrote to Tokangamutu to sound the king. His old comrade, Hori Kingi, described the success of the mission. The herald was “passed on by Tahana Turoa to Wiremu Pakau and Ropata, by whom he was passed on to Pehi Turoa and Topia Turoa, and then passed on to Topine te Mamaku.” Thus aided, he reached a station whence a Maori, by name Marino, carried Mete Kingi's letter to Tokangamutu. There, oracularly, Rewi and Tamati Ngapora allowed it to be believed that they condemned Titokowaru. His evil-doing was with himself alone, even though through it he sink down to the world of spirits—was Rewi's word. Tamati Ngapora said: “Hearken, Rewi, there is nothing to say. Leave Titokowaru to be pecked by the seagulls. He sought it himself.” Hori Kingi begged his Maori representative to write and let the tribe know if he should “hear anything important at the Assembly.” The Native Minister, Mr. J. C. Richmond, took comfort from the result of the mission.

Such was the state of affairs when, on the 9th July, 1868, Sir George Bowen met the General Assembly at Wellington. Writs had been returned for the election of the four members for the northern, eastern, western, and southern Maori districts: Frederick Nene Russell, a nephew of Waka Nene; Tareha; Mete Kingi Paetahi; and John Patterson, a Maori with an

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English name. At the western district there had been irregularity. Every representative body founded on the basis of the English House of Commons takes a pride in following with nicety every detail which shows or implies the independence of its members.¹ Before the speech from the throne is taken into consideration, a Bill is invariably read a first time to assert a right of deliberation independently of the cause of summons by the Crown. Mr. Stafford introduced on this occasion a Bill to declare valid the election of Mete Kingi Paetahi. The general provisions of the electoral law disqualified him, inasmuch as he was the holder of an office of emolument under the Government. On the following day the Bill was passed through all its stages. The Council passed it with celerity; on the 16th July, the Governor assented to it in the Queen's name, and Mete Kingi Paetahi took his seat. In the oriental imagination of the chief, who, like so many of his countrymen, could count the generations of his family from the time when his ancestors landed in Maoria, what thoughts must his new position have aroused! After strife with trading hucksters, with debauched wastrels of seafaring life, with settlers, with Ministries, with Governors, with an English army, there had yet been left such vital force in the Maori noblemen, that now, though in disproportionate strength, they took their seat in the Councils of the land. Bad advisers, and consequent war, had thwarted the honourable intention of the English Government when the treaty of Waitangi was signed, but yet at last an instalment of justice had been wrung from a conjunction of evil circumstances, and the voice of a Maori could be raised in the halls of the English runanga. The spectacle, which might minister to the pride of the Maori, reflected also credit upon the Colonial Government.

Difference yet remained between the members. The Maori, with a written language, was not compelled by daily need to learn that of the Colonists. It was ordered that an interpreter

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should attend during the debates, and that papers of interest to the Maoris should be accompanied by a translation. There were many contemporary statements of which it would have been wise to prevent the translation. The ‘Wellington Independent’ said (21st July, 1868): “The operation must be short, sharp, and decisive. Within the rebel districts no merer should be shown. No prisoner should be taken. Let a price be put upon the head of every rebel, and let them be slain without scruple, wherever the opportunity is afforded. We must smite, and spare not.… They are determined to fight, and we, in self-protection, must treat them as a species of savage beasts which must be exterminated to render the colonization of New Zealand possible.” The Governor sent the following extract to the Secretary of State: “Give a reward for every rebel's head that is brought to head-quarters. Exeter Hall may lift up its pious hands in holy horror, but what else is left to us?… Few will hesitate long to recommend the doctrine and practice of head-money. Fiat.”

The hearts of those who wrote thus in 1868 must have bounded with joy when, in 1869, it appeared from a printed return,¹ that at Makaretu and Ngatapa there were 175 Maoris slain, no wounded, and none captured. Another return, printed in 1870, reveals the character of the force to which these ribald writers would have delegated the task of rivalling the Maori fanatics. The condition of the armed constabulary under Colonel McDonell, on the west coast, soon to be described, will serve as an illustration. A compendious view is provided in the return² of the number of the force “discharged on the report of their own officers for drunkenness, uselessness, and insubordination respectively, since the 1st July, 1869.” Drunkenness, 330; uselessness, 263; insubordination, 38;—total 631. Another return, laid on the table in 1870,³ showed that at the same date (15th June, 1870) the total armed constabulary force in the field was 695. The force which the hirelings of the press would have deputed to

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do murder was worthy of its employers. That there were some honourable men in it may well be believed. The enormous proportion dismissed in twelve months, proves to some extent the health of the body which could thus discard peccant humours.

Mr. Fitzherbert's mission to England was successful as regarded the Imperial claims. Though the Duke of Buckingham thought that a complete scrutiny would have proved a debt from the colony, yet recognizing the pressure upon its resources, and the fact that it had taken upon itself the entire duties of internal self-defence, he considered that “simultaneously with the removal of troops, installation of a new Governor, and the establishment of a complete system of self-reliance.” the Imperial Government might properly consent to close the accounts by a mutual release. It was agreed that the colonial claims should be abandoned with the cancelling of the Imperial. The Colonial Office and Mr. Fitzherbert were complimentary to one another, and Mr. Stafford applauded Mr. Fitzherbert.

Mr. Fox at an early date moved that “an impression had gained ground throughout the colony that his Excellency's Government proposes to effect organic changes in the institutions of the colony,” that there was anxiety about native affairs, and that the Government ought to declare its policy. After repeated adjournments the motion was rejected (12th August) by 34 votes against 25. In discussing one of Mr. Fox's hostile motions, Mr. Dillon Bell was loudly cheered while he denounced Mr. Stafford's policy towards the natives. The Maori member, Mr. Patterson, through the interpreter, demanded equal laws for the Maori and the Pakeha. “If I vote for the Government, it may not profit me; if for the Opposition, the result may be the same. Honourable members may be all right or all wrong. I will leave the House when the time for the division arrives.” On another occasion Mete Kingi said: “I have listened to the talk here for two months. The talk is all about money. Men's lives are nothing.” Out of fashion in Wellington he might be, but he struck a higher chord than was touched by the party manœuvrers in the Assembly.

The question of retaining the 18th Regiment was not swept out of the way as the Duke of Buckingham had imagined. On the 18th August, the Representatives resolved to fall back upon the old arrangement, that while the colony expended £50,000 a

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year on native purposes, the English Government should retain a regiment in the colony free of charge. The elastic construction which could be put upon the phrase “native purposes,” qualified the obligation of expenditure. The Legislative Council had in July been asked to resolve in plain terms, without reference to any past arrangements, that it was expedient on grounds of Imperial and colonial policy that one regiment should remain; but the motion was rejected by one vote. A few days afterwards, however, the Council resolved without a division to entreat Sir George Bowen to delay the departure of the 18th Regiment until he could tell the Secretary of State the condition of the colony.

Again the war-cloud hung over the land. Again it rose from violent acts or breach of faith under a Ministry headed by Mr. Stafford. The obstinate Maori would neither submit in his fastnesses nor remain in banishment. Prisoners on board of a hulk at Wellington, on a stormy night, let themselves down through a porthole, and three-score—men, women, and children— reached the shore, and regained their old haunts. On the 4th July, 1868, the prisoners at the Chatham Islands, disappointed at being kept in exile contrary to their expectations that after two years they would be released, rose as one man, took possession of their guards, of all the money and ammunition they could find, seized a schooner, the ‘Rifleman,’ of 82 tons burden, and sailed towards their homes in the north. A return, obtained by Mr. Mantell in the Legislative Council, revealed the fact that there had been no “writ, warrant, or other form of authority” for the exile or detention of the prisoners. The capture of the island was so startling in its suddenness that no explanation could be furnished. Te Kooti Rikirangi, who was unjustifiably seized at Waerenga-ahika by Major Fraser, in 1865, was the Maori leader. Under pretence of holding religious services, he introduced some novelties as a prophet of a new Karakia, or worship. He had arrived on the island on the 15th June, 1866, and the expected two years of probation having expired, became restless when no hope of release was held out. The resident magistrate separated Te Kooti from other prisoners, and forbade him to hold religious services. These precautionary measures were reported on the 1st July. They failed. On the 4th, 163 men, 64 women, and 71 children, escaped in the ‘Rifleman.’

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Three men and one woman only remained behind. One constable was killed with a tomahawk, in the act of resistance; but the rest of the guard were merely bound. One man said: “They laid me down very gently, and bound me hand and foot. They tied my hands behind my back, and left me on the ground with my face downwards.” Mr. G. S. Cooper was sent by the New Zealand Government to inquire, and reported: “Upon looking back upon this extraordinary episode in the history of New Zealand, it is difficult to say whether one's wonder is excited more by the precision, rapidity, and completeness with which the enterprise was planned and executed, or by the moderation shown in the hour of victory by a gang of barbarous fanatics, who in a moment found their former masters bound at their feet, and their lives entirely at their mercy.” There was apparently some prospect that the escaped prisoners would eschew violence, and be content with replacing their feet on the land of their birth. But mismanagement destroyed the prospect; and the colony learned how much it had owed to Sir George Grey when he resisted the importunities of Mr. Fox on the escape of the prisoners from Kawau. Though the Ministry could produce no warrant under which the prisoners had been detained, they denied that the refugees had been absolutely promised their freedom after two years of good behaviour. Yet a belief in the promise was widely spread. Bishop Selwyn declared in the House of Lords: “They were told if they conducted themselves well, at the end of two years they would be set at liberty. They behaved in the most exemplary manner; but at the expiration of the two years they were informed that they were not to be set at liberty, whereupon a look of despair at once came over them, as if every hope they had of life were cut off.” The first official instructions to the resident magistrate at the Chatham Islands distinctly pointed to release in connection with the end of the war. He was told that it was not “desired to detain them longer than may be necessary. They should be informed therefore that their return will depend upon their own good conduct, and the termination of rebellion. A few of the best-behaved will be allowed to return periodically, and it is to be hoped that none of them need be kept prisoners for any lengthened period.” The verbal promises made under

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these instructions can be inferred. Mr. Stafford, under whose Government they were issued, was still in office in 1868. There was no rebellion in New Zealand at the expiration of the time which the prisoners had associated with their probable release; but Mr. Stafford gave no sign, although he received urgent letters informing him of the restlessness of the prisoners under their disappointment. It could not be alleged that he was ignorant of the expectations of the prisoners. In May, 1867, the Government sent Major Edwards of the New Zealand militia, to the Chatham Islands, with orders to report upon all matters connected with the Maoris and their guard. The prisoners assembled to meet him. They stated: “That they had been promised they should be sent back to New Zealand, a few at a time, probably after they had been one year at the Chathams, if they behaved well, and that the whole were to be sent back as soon as the war was over.” Major Edwards told them that he “felt sure that the promise, if made, would be carried out, and that their good conduct would have its due weight.” If Mr. Stafford or his colleagues did not admit that the promise quoted had been made, their neglect to correct the report convicts them of duplicity or of mismanagement. In April, 1868, Mr. Ritchie, a resident at the islands, reported to Mr. Stafford that there was a growing determination amongst the whole of the prisoners to leave their prison. He urged that a special Commissioner should be sent to make careful inquiry. Mr. Stafford curtly replied that other reports which reached the Government did not confirm Mr. Ritchie's statements. He cared not to make inquiries about Maoris who might be aggrieved in an island-prison. He would not stoop to untie such a knot. Te Kooti suddenly cut it by seizing the ‘Rifleman’ the day after she arrived at the Chatham Islands. The surprise was complete. The chief officer vainly resisted the Maoris who, from two boats, scaled the vessel's sides, and stationed sentries in the forecastle and cabin. Te Kooti was almost the last to visit his prize, and on taking charge declared that unless the crew would navigate the vessel to Poverty Bay they would be killed. All the firearms at the islands were seized by the Maoris. An attempt to sail on the evening of the 4th was defeated by adverse wind; but on the 5th the ‘Rifleman’ sailed. A head-wind was encountered,

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and one morning a Maori was thrown overboard by his companions “to bring a fair wind” from the Atua, or god, of winds. But though he resorted to ancient superstitions to stimulate devotion, Te Kooti kept his powder dry. An armed guard paced the deck day and night. A Maori with carbine and sword stood by the helm to watch the steersman's course. The crew were not allowed to cook. On Friday evening (10th July) the ‘Rifleman’ was anchored at Whareongaonga, six miles south of Poverty Bay. The crew were kept below, while the women and children, and some others, landed at night. On Saturday morning the Maoris carried off the cargo (consisting chiefly of provisions), returned with two casks of water for the crew, and said they might now go where they liked with the ship, as the Maoris “bad done with them.” Before the ‘Rifleman’ reached Wellington, the electric telegraph had warned the Government of the catastrophe, and no man knew whether before leaving the Chatham Islands the prisoners had murdered the Europeans there. A steamer was despatched thither.

Captain Biggs, who commanded the colonial force at Poverty Bay, heard, on Sunday the 12th, that the prisoners had landed. He mustered 50 Europeans with 53 Maoris, marched towards the runaways, and demanded their arms. They refused to surrender them. Finding that they outnumbered his force he abstained from carrying out his original intention to attack them, determined to act on the defensive, and urged the Government to send “a force at once to retake the prisoners.” The Government complied. Colonel Whitmore was despatched to the spot, and Commander Palmer of H.M.S. ‘Rosario’ was sent to help him. Captain Biggs was eager to assist. Ridges with sheer steep rocks encompassed the outlaws, who, confronted by the Maumaukai Ranges, and impeded by their plunder, were many days in toiling to a spot where Captain Westrup of the Poverty Bay Mounted Rifles with 66 Europeans and 22 Maoris endeavoured t bar their way. He detached 44 men to a position commanding their path, near Paparatu, and Te Kooti promptly changed his front, dashed upon Captain Westrup and captured his camp, provisions, and horses. Many of the men fled in disorder, and Westrup himself with about 40 men was compelled to retreat across the country under guidance of a

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friendly chief, on the 20th July, and report his defeat to Colonel Whitmore, who did not conceal his dissatisfaction when he found that the forlorn fliers were not prepared to turn back and pursue Te Kooti without delay. Whitmore himself had some Napier volunteers with him. Hearing that the nature of the country would make it impossible for the encumbered fugitives to reach Opoiti, on the Wairoa river, in less than a month (though the distance was only 27 miles in a straight line), he organized scouting parties to hem them in, consoling himself with the reflection that the heavy floods and stormy weather which harassed his own men would prevent the enemy from moving. A force of friendly Maoris and European volunteers was gathered together at Wairoa in Hawke's Bay and marched under Major Richardson. Te Kooti, determining to transport the women and children to shelter, cut his way for about ten miles through the forest; and on the 24th, at Te Konaki, on the Hangaroa river, encountered Major Richardson, whom he fought for three hours before he could force his way. Major Richardson complained that his allies fought badly; but the only sufferers on the Government side were Maoris, though the Major said the rebels used their rifles with precision. A want of ammunition was also regretted by Richardson. It was plain that war to the knife was declared, and the Government called out the militia, strengthened Colonel Whitmore with a detachment of armed constabulary, and determined to show what would have been the result if Sir George Grey had consented to adopt Mr. Fox's policy at Omaha in 1864. General Chute, writing at this juncture from his head-quarters at Melbourne, urged that the battalion of the 18th in New Zealand ought to be concentrated as much as possible. On the ground that the withdrawal of the detachments from Taranaki and Napier would necessarily encourage Titokowaru and Te Kooti in insurrection, Mr. Stafford deprecated, and Sir George Bowen, in despatches to General Chute and to the Secretary of State, vehemently remonstrated against, such a disposition of the battalion as would concentrate it at Auckland where it was not needed. The Duke of Buckingham vielded to the Governor's entreaties. Colonel Whitmore strained every nerve to surround Te Kooti. The adroit use which the latter had made of his followers had deceived Westrup and Richardson. Colonel

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Whitmore ascertained that the fighting men had been fewer than had been thought, and that the women must have taken part in the previous skirmishes. He rapidly marched from Turanga to the Waihau lakes, where Major Fraser joined him with a force which had marched round by a regular track. Te Kooti had passed on, cutting his way with desperate energy so as to transport his impedimenta through the broken country between the Waihau lakes and Puketapu. The road thus made facilitated the march of Colonel Whitmore's force, which closed with Te Kooti at Puketapu on the 8th August. An indecisive engagement at Ruakiture, in which Te Kooti was wounded in the foot and lost about eight men, did not stop his retreat. Five were killed and five wounded in Colonel Whitmore's force. Two officers fell in a charge made by the Maoris, while the words of their women urged them on. Colonel Whitmore found that Te Kooti's tactics differed from the wont of Maoris. “He held a desperate body of men in reserve to charge whenever he sounded the bugle. His fire was deliberate and never thrown away: every shot fell close to its mark if it did not reach it, and there was no wild volley discharged during the action. He began the fighting himself, and no opportunity was afforded me to summon him to surrender.” In former wars the Maoris had only guns. At the Chatham Islands Te Kooti had seized 32 rifles. For the third time within a month of his landing Te Kooti had been brought to bay by his pursuers, and had worsted them. An officer who served against him has been heard to say that in such a warfare the generalship of Te Kooti could not be surpassed. Colonel Whitmore fell back to procure supplies, and Te Kooti after giving his followers rest at Puketapu resumed his march to the interior. In a month he was heard of a hundred miles from the coast. The savage was aroused within him, but he was calculating in his revenge. His position was strange. He had escaped from imprisonment unwarranted by law. Wounded, and dragging his wounded to the fastnesses of the hills, he was scotched but not killed, and his rabid followers were soon to horrify not only New Zealand but England by the massacre at Poverty Bay.

It was just after Te Kooti's struggle on the 8th August that Mr. Fox's motion hostile to the Government was rejected by the

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House of Representatives. A fortnight afterwards Mr. Graham moved that inasmuch as the Imperial Government were willing to allow a regiment to be stationed in New Zealand on condition that the colony would spend £50,000 a year on native purposes, it was expedient to comply with the condition; but by 20 votes against 4 the motion was rejected. A much larger number displayed interest in the question of carrying newspapers without charge. Mr. Vogel, a newspaper editor, arrayed 22 members to vote for thus squandering the public money for the enrichment of newspaper proprietors, but the Government opposed him with 33 votes. Both Houses seized the occasion of a visit paid by Sir George Grey to Wellington, and unanimously accorded him a seat within their Chambers. He was then on his way to England, splenetic against the Colonial Office. On the day of his embarkation the Council adjourned early to enable its members to go in a body to pay respect to him. Before he left he offered to go to the west coast to endeavour to pacify Titokowaru's followers: but the Ministers declined the offer. As the mail-steamer was about to depart rumours of a serious disaster sustained by Colonel McDonell at the hands of Titokowaru reached Wellington. Colonel McDonell with about 350 Europeans had surprised Titokowaru in his village, Ngutu-o-temanu in August. It was undefended, although well constructed rifle-pits were passed in approaching it. The houses of Titokowaru and his people were burnt. Two rebels were killed and one European. On his return to Waihi, McDonell was pursued by Titokowaru, and four of his men were killed and eight wounded. Colonel McDonell loudly praised his officers and men. He had set his heart upon destruction of villages. Pungarehu and its successor Ngutu-o-te-manu were desolate, but there were other inhabited places. On the 7th September, at four o'clock in the morning, he sallied forth with 250 Europeans and 110 Maoris, of whom Rangihiwinui was one, to attack Te Rua-arua, a fortified village, and return by Ngutu-o-te-manu. A track was found and followed. No signs of an enemy were seen. A halt was called. Rangihiwinui sent a man up a tall rata tree to see whether smoke or village was near. Half a mile off smoke was seen, and the man heard sounds of a Maori dance. Rangihiwinui said: “We now know

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where the enemy is. Take your Pakeha men off the track. Let them be hidden in perfect silence in the forest. I with my men will be in ambush. If an enemy come near, I will have him tomahawked without noise. But I expect no one, for this track is evidently not much used. When it is dark I will reconnoitre the enemy's position so that we may know how to act in the morning.” Lieutenant Gudgeon avers that the chief's advice would, “if followed, have undoubtedly ensured success,” and that when Titokowaru's people heard of it afterwards they said: “Had it been taken we were lost.” But McDonell rejected the advice. He ordered an advance. He led one division of Europeans. Von Tempsky led another. Rangihiwinui with his Wanganui countrymen preceded them. A tent was on the track. A woman, close to it, screamed and fled. A man emerging, and two children, were shot. McDonell and his men did not know where they were. To surprise the enemy was now impossible; but the force advanced. Rangihiwinui extended his men on the left. Von Tempsky went forward and descended into a gully, where a shattering volley was poured upon his and a part of McDonell's advancing force. The pah was near, but was hidden by the trees. Katene's warning flashed upon the leader. The Maoris would fight in the guarding forest rather than in the entrapping pah. While McDonell was thus disconcerted, Rangihiwinui sped to his side and told him that he was before Te Ngutu-o-te-manu—the place he had destroyed so recently. The puzzled McDonell could hardly believe the truth. Marksmen in trees singled out and shot the Europeans. The loss was so great that McDonell resolved to retire although Rangihiwinui's men on the left had driven the enemy from the forest to the pah. He sent his brother, Captain McDonell, to call back the brave Von Tempsky, who was loth to obey, but in the act of encouraging his men and reviewing his position was shot dead. Captain Buck determined to recover Von Tempsky's body before retreating. As he raised it, he also was shot. Captain Roberts, next in seniority, knew not of the order to retire, and held his position in ignorance that McDonell was in full retreat. By Rangihiwinui's advice McDonell retired by the edge of the clearing with his wounded men, while Rangihiwinui held the enemy in check in rear. Through twining vines and

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underwood, the pursuers and pursued—sometimes almost intermingled—wended their harassing and harassed way. When the gorge was crossed at Te Maru it was found that Von Tempsky's division was absent. When Von Tempsky was shot, Captain McDonell had told Captain Buck to retreat, but had returned to his brother without knowing of Buck's immediate death. Colonel McDonell thought of fighting his way back, to relieve his comrades, but Rangihiwinui suggested that as the main body of the enemy had pursued to Te Maru, Von Temp-sky's men had an easier journey and more unmolested than McDonell's. The retreat was continued, and Titokowaru pursued until darkness set in. As Colonel McDonell reached the open ground the Maoris fired a parting volley, and on the edge of the forest danced a war-dance, which the English disturbed with their rifles. At nine o'clock in the evening McDonell's division were in the Waihi redoubt, whither about 40 of the rifle corps had preceded him, having fled (when Von Tempsky was shot) and reported the destruction of the force. The European loss was reported at once as 22 killed, 25 wounded, and 2 missing. The enemy's loss could only be guessed at. It was thought that Rangihiwinui's men had killed 15, and that the European forces had killed 13. The English dead were left behind. McDonell said he could not speak too highly of Rangihiwinui and his men, none of whom, strange to say, were killed. Trained to bush-warfare they kept apart from one another, while the English could not be prevented from collecting in groups which afforded a mark for the enemy. About 80 Europeans were left under Roberts, and were pursued till night. Then under the guidance of a chief, Pehira Turei, after waiting for the rising of the moon they found their way, and gladdened McDonell's heart by arriving safely in the morning¹—meeting a band of Rangihiwinui's

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men who had started in search of them. The alacrity of the Maoris was the more highly esteemed at the time, because their great chief, Hori te Anaua, had recently died, and it was not customary to devote to war the season appropriated to grief. They economized their time by robbing themselves of sleep. They kept up a tangi or wailing for the dead throughout the night, and in the morning sallied forth in search for Roberts.

Colonel McDonell's published defence pleaded that “the drunkenness which demoralized¹ some men of my force after the defeat, and for which I was censured, arose out of the recklessness of the men who had bolted, and the action of the Taranaki Government.” The fact that by McDonell's wrong-doing at Pokaikai, and in conjunction with Booth at Te Ngutu-o-te-manu, the conflict with Titokowaru had been brought about, neither McDonell nor his employers thought it convenient to admit. There was alarm and wrath at Wellington,

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and McDonell's dismissal was demanded. Colonel Whitmore deprecated indecent haste in expelling a man against whom the accredited but unexamined charges rested mainly on misbehaving subordinates of his corps. By Colonel Whitmore's advice the Defence Minister, Colonel Haultain, removed to the west coast a division of armed constabulary stationed at Napier, and thus partially reassured the minds of dwellers at Patea and Wanganui. Whitmore generously offered to serve under McDonell (though his junior) until final arrangements could be made. Colonel Haultain accepted the offer, and, although a member of the Assembly, then in session, proceeded to the scene of disorder and defeat. There only large bodies of Europeans dared to move between Waihi and Patea. There also the Wanganui men were found disgusted with the state of affairs. Lieutenant Gudgeon avers that though, they pleaded the necessity of attending to their crops and to a tribal ceremony, they were in truth, like the Europeans, “cowed” by Titokowaru, but they really distrusted the capacity of the Commander-in-Chief. After an unsuccessful effort to tempt the enemy from a position at Taiporohenui, Colonel Haultain deemed it necessary to withdraw the advanced posts from Waihi and mass his force at Patea in the end of September. The former was too near the lair of Titokowaru to be deemed safe. Rangihiwinui and his men returned to their homes at Wanganui. That which had made the Government anxious had made Titokowaru bold. He had acquired valuable arms from the Europeans slain in the Ngutu-o-te-manu forest. His “mana” was exalted, and he gained recruits. He devastated the homes of the settlers and advanced to Patea. Terror reigned in Wanganui. Four companies of militia were called out for active service, but refused to go “to the front unless their houses and families were placed in security by the presence of a detachment of regular troops.” There was consolation only in one quarter. Rangihiwiaui's men had gone home to attend to their cultivations. When Colonel McDonell called for the native contingent, 300 men responded promptly, and entrenched themselves as required, at Weraroa.

The magistrates met at Wanganui on the 29th September, Mete Kingi Paetahi being present, and declared that there was

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absolute necessity for the presence of a body of Imperial troops in the town. But for the native contingent, Titokowaru might have sacked the town and swept the coast. On the 1st October, the Colonel of the militia urgently appealed to the Government. Troops were necessary, and during such a crisis the presence of a Minister would be desirable. On the 2nd October, Mr. Stafford moved, without notice, that the removal of the troops would foster rebellion and discourage the loyal; that the colony was “virtually fulfilling” the conditions¹ under which Earl Carnarvon had (1st December, 1866) sanctioned the retention of a regiment, and that the Governor be respectfully asked “to take steps to delay the departure of the 18th Regiment until the subject shall be referred to the Imperial Government.” Mr. Fox, the leader of the Opposition, seconded the motion. Verbal amendments were moved and rejected. Mr. Stafford's motion was carried. Mete Kingi Paetahi voted for it. He, a Wanganui man, was for thorough measures. In a former debate he had warned the House that, wherever imprisoned, Maoris would break from their guard: “Although you imprison them and wish to hold them till they repent, nevertheless I fear they will not repent. You saw how those captured at Weraroa acted. I brought them here. They were imprisoned in a ship. They soon swam ashore and escaped. Then you, thinking that the prison-ship had been too near the shore, were minded to send prisoners, afterwards captured, to the Chatham Islands, 300 miles distant from New Zealand; but lo! they seized a vessel and came back to this island. Judge ye then the mind of the Maori people. If you send Maoris as prisoners to England, I warn you that they will probably get possession of a ship and