A History of the English Church in New Zealand

by Henry Thomas Purchas

The beginning of the year 1860 found the king movement still friendly to the British rule. Its influence did not extend much beyond the Waikato country, and it was discountenanced by the tribes who lived under the influence of Henry Williams in the north, William Williams in the east, and of Hadfield and Taylor in the south-west. Hadfield's staunch ally, Wiremu Kingi te Rangitaake, had, in 1848, carried his tribe back to Taranaki, where his ancestral possessions lay, and he too kept aloof from the movement. This chief, upon whom was to turn the future course of events, still stood forth as a champion of the white man; and to him New Plymouth was indebted in 1851, as Wellington had been in 1843 and 1846, for preservation from hostile attack.

Yet this was the man whom the Government now drove into opposition and rebellion. What were his crimes that he should be so treated? In the first place he and his tribe owned the beautiful Waitara lands which lay close to New Plymouth, and a Naboth is always open to the old charge, "Thou didst blaspheme God and the king." Governor Gore-Browne, upon whom lay the direct responsibility in native matters, was an honourable man and the brother of a highly-respected English bishop; but, Ahab-like, he was brought to regard Te Rangitaake as a "rebel" and "an infamous character." And who was the Jezebel in this case? The Government of the day had much to do with the governor's decision, yet the Stafford ministry is looked upon as the ablest and not the least upright that has occupied the treasury benches in New Zealand. These ministers also (it is said) had been misled. By whom? The blame is laid upon the land commissioner, Mr. Parris, whose later reports were certainly very misleading. Yet Parris began with a desire to be fair to all parties. He also succumbed to outside pressure. If we enquire further, we come upon the ugly serpent of sectarian jealousy. Taranaki was in the Wesleyan sphere of influence: Te Rangitaake was a churchman. For the crime of belonging to the Church of England he incurred the violent enmity of a certain Wesleyan minister, who had never forgiven Bishop Selwyn for refusing to allow him to sign a church burial register. Yet this minister thought himself in the right, and could at least point to a murder which had been committed, not by Rangitaake himself, but by another Maori with whom this chief had formed an alliance. Who can judge in such a case, especially when the tangled skein is still further complicated by the action of an astute Maori whose affections had been wounded by a damsel who deserted him in order to become the daughter-in-law of Te Rangitaake? But it is no pleasant thought that the decision to seize the Waitara was made by the Government in Auckland during the very days when the first General Synod was sitting in Wellington, and that amongst the men who thus forced on an unjust and unholy war were at least two who had sat in the Taurarua Conference and had helped to shape the constitution of the Church.

The war thus begun in injustice and ingratitude, was marked by what seemed a contemptuous defiance of religion. Wiremu Kingi was slow to take up arms, and when the surveyors appeared upon the disputed land he merely sent women to drive them off. The governor summoned Kingi to come to him at New Plymouth, offering him a safe-conduct for three days. The chief replied that he was afraid to trust himself among the soldiers, and proposed a meeting on safer ground. No answer was vouchsafed to him; the three days expired on Saturday night, March 3, 1860, and on Sunday the governor began the war. Two of Te Rangitaake's pas were taken by the troops, and his place of worship burnt to the ground.

The news of the aggression spread quickly through the island. Selwyn and Hadfield sent protests and petitions to the Government and to the Queen. The war had been hurried on with such secrecy that the bishop had "heard nothing of the matter till the order was given for the troops to embark." Up to the time when the soldiers were sent to Taranaki, he was "in the most friendly communication with the Governor and his ministers." But now, by these very men, his appeals for an enquiry were spurned, and he was peremptorily forbidden to interfere between the Government and the native race.

Others beside bishop and missionaries were stirred with indignation. "The affair at Taranaki," wrote the bishop, "was announced by the government, and looked upon by the natives, as the beginning of a new policy for the whole of New Zealand." As such it was received by the king-maker in the north. Hitherto there had been little sympathy between himself and the Taranaki chief. Now they began to draw together. Patriotism and religion formed a continually strengthening bond. "It was this that disquieted the heart of Te Rangitaake," wrote Tamihana, "his church being burnt with fire." His own heart was disquieted also; and though he would not yet adopt Rangitaake's cause, he could not prevent some of the hot-heads of his tribe from going south to join in the Taranaki war. His own flag at Ngaruawahia became the rallying point for the disaffection which was now spreading through the land. Deputations from distant tribes were received in state by the Maori King; allegiance was tendered by many of those who had hitherto held aloof; lands were presented, and tribute pledged.

Amid the growing excitement, Tamihana restrained the natural feelings of his heart. "Let us not take up an unrighteous cause," he urged; "let us search out the merits of the case, that if we die, we die in a righteous cause." The kingdom was not set up for war but for peace; and the aged Potatau, who died in June, repeated with almost his last breath its watchwords, "RELIGION, LOVE, AND LAW."

The war in Taranaki lasted until June, 1861, when, through Tamihana's efforts, a kind of peace was arrived at. One missionary, at least, played an important part in the operations. The intrepid Wilson was stirred at the news that the Maoris, after one of their victories, had given no quarter to the prisoners. He therefore set out for Taranaki, and went amongst the Maori camps, urging the observance of the laws of civilised warfare. His life was often in extreme danger, but the white bands which he always wore usually secured the respect of friend and foe. After much discouragement, he succeeded in gaining the consent of the Waikatos to spare the wounded, to exchange prisoners, and to tend the sick. His old naval training gave him acceptance with the Imperial forces, and he did much to promote a better feeling on both sides.

ST. JOHN'S CATHEDRAL., NAPIER.