A History of the English Church in New Zealand

by Henry Thomas Purchas

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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