THE NEW BEGINNING.
(1823-1830).
And he spake to me, "O Maeldune, let be this purpose of thine!
Remember the words of the Lord when he told us, 'Vengeance is mine.'
His fathers have slain thy fathers in war or in single strife.
Thy fathers have slain his fathers, each taken a life for a life.
Thy father had slain his father: how long shall the murder last?
Go back to the island of Finn, and suffer the past to be past."
--_Legend of Maeldune._
"When I reflect upon the evils which have crept in among the
missionaries, I am astonished that the mission has not been completely
annihilated. That it should continue to exist under such difficulties
affords a proof, in my judgment, that God will still carry on the work."
Such was Marsden's reflection in 1823--the year which saw a beginning of
better things. Out of the midst of the failure and the shame this man of
faith was able to gather hope for the future.
The great need of the mission was a higher class of workers. This need
was now to be supplied--in fact, the preparation for its supply had been
quietly going on concurrently with the mission itself, though in a
different quarter of the globe.
One of the last actions of the great war which was coming to an end when
Marsden proclaimed his message of peace in 1814 was the capture of an
American frigate in the West Indies. The prize was being towed to a
British port when a terrific gale sprang up, and in the midst of the
confusion the prisoners attempted to retake the ship. The danger of the
situation drove one of the officers to serious thoughts, and on the
conclusion of peace he resigned his commission and resolved to enter the
service of a higher monarch. For some years he lived quietly in England
on his half-pay allowance, but his thoughts were drawn towards New
Zealand, a part of the mission field which seemed to offer the greatest
peril and the greatest need. The news that the C.M.S. were about to
equip a ship for their station in that country seemed to him a call to a
post where his nautical skill would be of service. He volunteered to
take command of this vessel without pay. His offer could not be
accepted, because the project of the ship had already been abandoned,
but the Society accepted the lieutenant as one of their missionaries.
All arrangements were made for his setting out, when news arrived from
the Antipodes that the settlers would probably soon be driven out of the
country. This was no time to be sending out fresh workers. But the
candidate was not cast down. He studied surgery, and bided his time. The
Society was now coming to the conclusion that lay catechists were
undesirable, and it ordered the lieutenant to stay for two years longer
in England, and to prepare for Holy Orders. He was now a married man,
and could not go up to a university, but he studied at home under the
direction of a clerical brother-in-law who had first turned his
attention to foreign missions. In 1822 he was once more ready, and had
received the orders both of deacon and priest when tidings came of
Hongi's first raid. The Committee offered to send him to some quieter
part of the world, but he earnestly pleaded to be allowed to adhere to
his original purpose. Thus it was that Henry Williams reached New
Zealand, at the age of thirty-one years, arriving just in time to save
the mission and to give it a new beginning.
The character of the man thus providentially trained and guided is a
factor of the utmost moment in our history. He brought to the mission
just those qualities of leadership and power in which it had hitherto
been deficient, and he was joined somewhat later by a brother whose
milder and more intellectual nature supplied what was wanting in his
own. Drawn from the professional class, the brothers Williams of course
stood for a higher culture and a wider knowledge than could be expected
of the settlers who were hitherto in the field. These advantages were by
no means unappreciated by the Maoris, but the quality which impressed
them most immediately was the personal force and dauntless spirit of the
elder man. "He is a _tangata riri_" (i.e., angry man), said a hostile
Maori; "he shuts his tent door upon us, and does not sit by our sides
and talk; he has the _Atua_ upon his lips, and we are afraid of his
anger." He could hold at arm's length two powerful men who were
struggling to fly at one another's throats. He soon won the name of "the
man with the iron thumb," from the fact that on one occasion, while he
held in his hand the key of his study door, he felled to the earth the
leader of a gang of bullies who were bent on doing him bodily injury. On
another occasion a number of angry natives crowded in upon himself and a
companion as they were building a boat. After standing their
interference for some time, the builders seized, one a broken oar and
the other a stout stake, and after a sharp fray, in which the arm of the
carpenter was broken in two places, the intruders were driven from the
spot.
Nor was it only the men who felt the power of his arm. A story is told
of an encounter with some shameless women who had crossed from
Kororareka to taunt his school-girls at Paihia. The missionaries were
busy at a translation meeting, and at first sent some peaceful
messengers to bid the "ship-girls" depart. The messengers came back
discomfited, and the behaviour grew more wanton and defiant. At last,
Henry Williams came forth, umbrella in hand and spectacles on nose. The
whole school came out to watch the encounter. The leader of the band--a
great lady of the place--came on with outstretched tongue and insulting
cries, when "old four eyes," as she called him, gave her a sounding
thwack with his umbrella. Startled by this indignity she turned and
fled. "Duck them," cried the missionary; and before the saucy damsels
could regain their canoe they were thoroughly soused in the water, and
went back (as the narrator says) wetter, if not better, than they came.
No wonder that "Te Wiremu" soon obtained an ascendancy over a people who
idolised physical prowess. But it would be a great mistake to suppose
that he brought to the mission nothing more than the authoritative tone
of the quarter-deck. His piety was deep and self-sacrificing. It was in
order that he might exercise his ministry on shipboard that he had
chosen to come out in a female convict ship, where he had been untiring
in his attempts to uplift the unhappy creatures with which it was
crowded. During his stay at Parramatta he had thrown himself into
Marsden's work among the convicts of the other sex. There was sweetness
as well as strength in the straight glance of the well-opened eye, and
in the fine lines of the compressed lips.
In one respect Williams differed both from Marsden, who preceded, and
from Selwyn, who followed him. He was not an idealist; he dreamed no
dreams and he saw no visions. He fixed his attention upon the work
immediately in front, and to it he gave his undivided energy. The old
naval instinct of unquestioning obedience was strong in him to the last.
Writing to the C.M.S. before his departure from England, he assured them
that he should always regard their orders as rigidly as he ever did
those of his senior officer in His Majesty's service. Like the centurion
in the Gospels, he regarded himself as a man under authority, and he
expected a like obedience from those who were under him.
Marsden himself brought Henry Williams to New Zealand, and decided upon
the place of his abode. The chiefs were all anxious for the presence of
a missionary because of the commercial advantages which it brought.
Marsden was loth to refuse the request of some disconsolate relatives of
the slaughtered Hinaki, but he thought it wiser to bestow the favour
upon one who had been with him at Parramatta, even though the chief
himself was at the moment on the warpath with Hongi. Accordingly, the
new missionary was placed at Paihia, a village whose open beach lay
opposite to Kororareka, the great resort of European ships, from whose
crews the Maoris were acquiring vices and diseases more hideous than
their own. Its central situation gave to Paihia great advantages, and it
soon became the real focus of the mission.
That the work of the past eight years had not been altogether in vain
was proved by the altered demeanour of the Maoris. When the bell rang on
Sundays at Paihia, they came along the beach, dressed in European
clothes and carrying their books with the utmost propriety. It was only
a fashion, but it meant something. At the two older stations some of
them could repeat prayers and sing hymns. At Marsden's departure his
ship struck on the rocks while working out of the Bay, but the natives
of the island of Moturoa treated the shipwrecked passengers with
kindness, and forebore to plunder their goods.
This was not much, but it carried hope for the future. The real hope,
however, lay in the change of workers and the change of methods. At the
time of the wreck, Marsden had with him several of the older settlers
whose connection with the mission was now dissolved. In their places new
names gradually appear. Fairburn came with Henry Williams in 1823;
Clarke and Davis followed in the next year. Hamlin accompanied the Rev.
W. Williams in 1826. In 1828 came two clergymen--Yate and Brown--besides
a lay catechist, Baker. Chapman arrived in 1830, Preece in 1831,
Matthews in 1832. Puckey and Shepherd had in the meantime come from
Australia. King and Hall were left at Rangihoua, but the latter was
compelled by an asthmatic affection to leave New Zealand in 1824, and
for a time helped Marsden in his work among the Maori youths at
Parramatta.
It is evident from the above list that the "settlement" policy still
held its ground. And indeed settlers of the right type were urgently
needed. As Mr. Saunders points out, the mission had suffered greatly
through the lack of a skilled agriculturist. The first catechists were
town artisans, and so were most of those that followed. They had tried
hard to grow wheat, and not altogether without success. But on the whole
the settlements had failed to support themselves. After the
establishment of Kerikeri, Marsden had refused to send more flour from
Sydney. He himself had been so successful with his farm that he expected
others to do the same. If they would not work, he said, neither should
they eat. But he could command the labour of convicts to do the work:
this the New Zealand missionaries could not do. For long they had only
hoes and spades; the Maoris would not help them; the soil and the
climate were unfavourable. Some improvement there was when in 1824
Richard Davis, a Dorsetshire farmer, joined the staff. But even he was
beaten again and again in his attempts at wheat-growing. It was not
until 1830, when a move was made from the mangrove-lined shores of the
Bay to the higher and more English country twelve miles inland at
Waimate, that farming operations really began to succeed: then they
prospered in marvellous fashion.
On the whole, the "settlement" scheme was a failure. It was too high for
average human nature. The drastic regulations which Marsden left behind
him in 1823--regulations which forbad even the slightest transaction
between individual settlers and the trading ships--were tantamount to a
confession of a breakdown of the system. As for Henry Williams, he
determined on a change almost from the first. He would not try to raise
produce at Paihia. Seek ye _first_ the kingdom of God, he said. For
years he left himself without anything that could be called a house, but
he must have a church at once, and not only a church, but an organ. The
church was soon built, and a pipe organ, which delighted his Welsh ears,
was sent out by some of his friends at home. For the first two years he
devoted much of his time and money to the building of a vessel, which
should bring flour and groceries from Sydney, gather children from other
districts for his schools, and collect pork and potatoes wherewith to
feed them. In this 60-ton schooner, which was launched under the name of
the _Herald_ early in 1826, the missionary made several voyages to
Australia, to Tauranga, and to Hokianga, but she was wrecked on entering
the last-named harbour in 1828.
The schools were indeed the pivot of the mission during the first ten
years of the new order. Hitherto they had been small and intermittent,
but at Paihia they soon developed into large and important institutions.
Discipline was rigidly maintained. From early morning, when the bell
rang out at 5 o'clock, the hours of the day were mapped out for
different kinds of work. The girls' schools were well cared for by Mrs.
Williams--a lady whose literary gift has rescued from oblivion much of
the life of those far-off days. A part of each day was devoted by the
missionaries to their own acquisition of the Maori language, and to the
translation of the Bible and Prayer Book. At this work William Williams
excelled. He was an Oxford graduate, who joined his brother in the March
of 1826. The language seemed to have for him no terrors and hardly any
difficulties. From time to time small volumes of translated portions
with hymns and catechism were carried across to Sydney and brought back
in printed form. These were eagerly bought and read by the Maoris. They
were the first printed specimens of their own tongue, and the influence
they exerted was incalculable.
Learning, teaching, and translating occupied the brotherhood at Paihia,
while Davis was farming at Kerikeri or Waimate, and the Wesleyans were
founding a station further north at Whangaroa. Outside these quiet spots
there was still turmoil and bloodshed. The year 1827 was a particularly
stormy period. Hongi raided Whangaroa and there received a dangerous
wound. The Wesleyans were panic-stricken and fled overland to Kerikeri.
They were received there and at Paihia with brotherly welcome by men who
felt that their own turn might soon come. "It is not easy," writes
Bishop Williams, "to describe this breach which had been made upon the
mission body." As soon as the news became known in Australia, Marsden
flew to the scene in a warship, but he found the missionaries facing the
prospect with quiet courage. "It gives me great pleasure," he wrote, "to
find the missionaries so comfortable, living in unity and godly love,
devoting themselves to the work." They were well aware, of course, that
so far as their tenure depended upon human protection the outlook was
not bright. Hongi sent to them a message advising them to stay as long
as he should live, but to fly to their own country as soon as he should
die. They determined to stay at their posts as long as possible, but
they shipped some tons of goods to Sydney, in case of a _taua_ or
stripping-party which might be expected to visit them as soon as their
protector should have died. Such a proceeding would have been strictly
in accordance with Maori law of _muru_, and would be understood as a
complimentary testimonial to the dead man's dignity. But it would have
meant to the white men the loss of all their possessions, and the being
left naked and destitute in a savage country.
Early in the year 1828 the long-expected death of the great warrior took
place. He died as a heathen, his last words being, "Be courageous, be
courageous!" But he had drawn closer to the missionaries during the last
year of his life, and their estimates of him are nearly all favourable.
"His conduct towards us," writes Clarke, "was kind, and his last moments
were employed in requesting his survivors to treat us well." "He was
ever the missionaries' friend," says Davis, "a shrewd, thoughtful man,
very superior to any other native I have yet seen; the greatest man who
has ever lived in these islands." Bishop Williams' estimate is less
favourable, but the Committee of the C.M.S. (relying perhaps on Yate's
unqualified encomium) considered that he had been specially raised up by
God to be the protector and helper of the Gospel.
However beneficial his life may have been, the historian cannot help a
sigh of relief when he comes to his death. For it marks the time when
the mission began to stand on its own feet. So far from being
"stripped," the missionaries actually rose in the estimation of the
Maoris. A quarrel arose out of Hongi's death, which led to hostilities
between the men of the Bay of Islands and those of Hokianga. The army of
the Bay was worsted, and both sides were not unwilling for peace if
honour could be preserved. Henry Williams and three of his colleagues
went to the field and visited the camps. Everywhere they were treated
with respect, and on Sunday a strict rest was enjoined as a mark of
deference to these ambassadors of peace. Williams preached to a
congregation of 500 on the neutral ground between the contending hosts.
The silent and respectful behaviour recalled Marsden's first
congregation fourteen years before. Next morning peace was concluded.
"These," said Williams, "are new days indeed!"
The role of peacemaker thus taken up by the missionaries was one which
they were often called upon to play. After a short interval of quiet,
the flames of war were rekindled by the curses hurled by one young
woman at another on the beach at Kororareka. A sharp battle was fought
between the relatives and partisans of the two damsels, in which many
lives were lost. At this juncture, Marsden arrived suddenly in the Bay.
Together with Henry Williams he visited the hostile camps, and after
some days of discussion peace was made. But the "Girls' War" did not end
here. Two of the Ngapuhi chiefs, not being able to obtain vengeance for
their slaughtered father among those who had slain him, went far away
from their own territory and raided the islands in the Bay of Plenty.
This involved the whole tribe in a war with the people of Tauranga, a
war which dragged on for two whole years. Henry Williams and his
brethren accompanied the fleets in their boat, and used their influence
to stop the war. Partly through his exhortations, and partly through the
absence of Hongi's determined generalship, the Ngapuhi fought
half-heartedly and with little success. "The words of Wiremu," they
confessed, "lay heavy on us, and our guns would not shoot." The stage
had arrived which is depicted in the legend quoted at the head of this
chapter. Like the Irish warrior, the New Zealanders were ready to say:
O weary was I of the travel, the trouble, the strife, and the sin.
The deadly feuds of the last thirteen years had greatly reduced the
population, and the Maoris were bound to admit that the new religion
offered a more excellent way.
This consummation, though highly desirable in itself, was of course
regarded by the missionaries only as a means to a further end--the
thorough conversion of the people to the Christian faith. Such
conversions were rare, but they were just frequent enough to give
encouragement. At first it was only the old and the sick who were drawn
by the announcement of a heaven where bloodshed and turmoil should
cease. Of these the case of the old man, Rangi, is notable through his
being the first of his race to be received into the Church of Christ by
baptism (1825). A much more striking conversion was that of Taiwhanga,
one of Hongi's chief warriors, in 1829. His struggles against the
fascinations of the old life were severe and prolonged. Frequently he
was solicited to go with a party on the warpath, and even his musket was
coveted as a weapon endowed with more than ordinary power. At last he
resolved that his children should be baptised, and the letter which he
wrote to the missionaries on this occasion is of uncommon interest:
"Here am I thinking of the day when my son shall be baptised. You are
messengers from God, therefore I wish that he should be baptised
according to your customs. I have left off my native rites and my native
thoughts, and am now thinking how I may untie the cords of the devil,
and so loosen them that they may fall off together with all sin. Christ
is near, perhaps beholding my sinfulness; he looks into the hearts of
men. It is well for me to grieve in the morning, in the evening, and at
night, that my sins may be blotted out."
The baptism of Taiwhanga's children (August 23) was naturally looked
upon as a significant event. William Williams spent part of the previous
day in translating the baptismal service, and he determined to baptise
at the same time his own infant son, Leonard Williams, afterwards to
become Bishop of Waiapu. Six months later, Taiwhanga himself came
forward publicly for baptism, and received the appropriate name of
David. He immediately became an active missionary among his own
countrymen, and proved an invaluable help to his teachers.
In spite of these and other gleams of success, the mission seemed to its
friends to be doing little during these years, inasmuch as it made no
extension beyond the limits of the Bay of Islands. The regret was shared
by the leaders on the spot, and it has already been shown how Williams
made more than one attempt by sea to effect an opening in the Bay of
Plenty. It must be remembered, however, that the country to the
southward of the northern isthmus had been desolated by Hongi's wars,
and that the few remaining inhabitants were naturally hostile to
anything that seemed to come from the Ngapuhi. Concentration was forced
upon the mission by the circumstances of the time. When once the schools
were established, they required the whole of the available staff of
teachers to conduct them efficiently. To have weakened the schools would
have been bad policy, even if openings had presented themselves
elsewhere.
[Illustration: HENRY WILLIAMS AT THE SIGNING OF THE TREATY AT WAITANGI.]
But, as a matter of fact, the missionaries "builded better than they
knew." The really important feature of their work was little guessed
even by themselves. Among their classes at Paihia were many wistful
faces of slaves who had been torn from their distant homes in Hongi's
wars. These had been befriended by the missionaries, and were placed on
an equal footing in the schools with the sons of chiefs and rangatiras.
It was these who drank in most deeply the Christian teaching, and it was
these who were destined to be the pioneers of the future.
Outwardly the most striking achievements of these schools were the
annual examinations which took place at the close of the years 1828 to
1830. Twice the scholars from Paihia and Rangihoua were taken by boat to
Kerikeri, where the proceedings lasted for two or three days, and always
finished with a generous feast. The gathering of 1830 took place at
Paihia, and included 178 men and boys, besides 92 girls. It is not often
that a school examination acquires a political significance, but it was
so in this case. There were more than 1,000 Maori spectators
present--men who had fought on opposite sides in the recent battle of
Kororareka. The orderliness of the proceedings, and the delightful
atmosphere of keenness and pleasure which pervaded the scene, drew all
parties together and served to weld the bond of peace.
Such exhibitions of the working of the new faith, together with the
adhesion of a powerful convert like Taiwhanga, were bound to tell upon
the people around. Evidences began to multiply of a serious attention to
the teaching of the missionaries. Here and there in unexpected quarters
signs appeared of coming change. To use the picturesque native simile,
"the fire was spreading in the fern."