—M. Arnold.
If the religious condition of the Maoris was such as to cause lasting grief to their teachers, there was not much in white New Zealand to relieve the picture. For the crash of the war period had been even greater than the foregoing pages have shown. Nothing has been said about the troubles at Nelson, where the earnest and faithful Bishop Hobhouse broke down under the factious opposition of his laity; nothing of the depression which stopped the building of Christchurch Cathedral, and led to the proposal for the sale of the site for government offices; nothing of the closing of St. John's College at Auckland, as well through lack of students as through lack of funds. But something must be said about one trouble which had begun before Selwyn's departure, but reached its acutest phase during the years that followed:
The colony of Otago, though founded as a Presbyterian settlement, contained from the first a few English churchmen; and at the beginning of 1852 an Anglican clergyman, the Rev. J. Fenton, began work in Dunedin. He was greatly helped by the famous whaler "Johnny Jones," who afterwards gave 64 sections of land in his own township of Waikouaiti as an endowment for a church in that place.
When Bishop Harper was appointed to the see of Christchurch in 1856, Otago and Southland formed part of his diocese, and his long journeys on horseback through these districts were among the most arduous and adventurous labours of his episcopate. He retained them until June 4th, 1871, when, as primate, he consecrated the Rev. S. T. Neville to the bishopric of Dunedin; and on the same day, as bishop, resigned these southern portions of his original diocese.
But there was another claimant to the office—one, moreover, who was considered by the English episcopate to be its rightful occupant. How could such an extraordinary situation have arisen? The blame must lie (as Bishop W. L. Williams points out) somewhere between Bishop Selwyn and the Archbishop of Canterbury (Dr. Longley). Something that was written by the former in 1865 caused the latter to select, and eventually to consecrate, one of his clergy, the Rev. H. L. Jenner, for a diocese which was not yet formed, and for a people who always protested against his appointment.
A mystery still hangs over the precise motives which actuated the archbishop. But perhaps they can be conjectured with a fair degree of probability. The letter upon which he acted arrived in England not long after the news of Volkner's murder. It was hard for those who had never left England to realise the difference between the Hauhau-ridden north and the law-abiding south of such a distant country as New Zealand. The archbishop might well think that his best course was to send out another bishop as soon as possible, without waiting for compliance with constitutional formalities. Accordingly he consecrated the Rev. H. L. Jenner "to be a bishop in New Zealand"—leaving the local authorities to determine the exact locality of his labours.
But no such ignorance can be pleaded for Bishop Selwyn. When he wrote the letter to the Primate of All England he was fresh from the great synod of 1865, where the whole constitution had been revised, and the procedure in the election of a bishop made more clear and precise. How could he violate a law which he himself had just subscribed? The only answer is that he did not violate it. His letter can have contained no such request as the archbishop imagined. Selwyn himself was as much startled as anyone, when he found what his letter had led to. But obedience to authority was the ruling principle of his life, and, like another Strafford, he determined to take upon himself the whole responsibility for what was done. It was doubtless an act of heroism, but a simple insistence upon the plain truth would have prevented much misunderstanding, and saved the New Zealand Church some years of trouble.
For the appointment of a bishop there must be the consent of the local synod, and also that of the General Synod of New Zealand. Dunedin had no synod, but its church people were represented by a small assembly called a Rural Deanery Board. Bishop Selwyn brought all his influence to bear upon this body, and in 1867 secured a small majority on a motion of acquiescence in the appointment of Mr. Jenner. But the tide soon turned again. Mr. Peter Carr Young, who had moved the resolution of acquiescence, was called to England, and found Bishop Jenner taking part in a service (at St. Matthias', Stoke Newington) whose extreme ritual was quite sufficient to bewilder an old-fashioned churchman. In his alarm he sent protests both to the Archbishop of Canterbury and to New Zealand. The archbishop expressed his deep regret, and soon afterwards died. The people of Otago were excited and indignant. The case was remitted to the General Synod (1868). In spite of Selwyn's vehement and farewell advocacy, that body refused to confirm Bishop Jenner's claim to the see of Dunedin, though recognising him of course as a bishop in the Christian Church.
Dr. Jenner was still unsatisfied. In the following year he came in person to Dunedin, and won over several church people to his side. A regular synod had now been formed, and everything depended upon its action. The meeting was held in April. It was the most stormy synod of our history. From 4 p.m. on April 8 to 6 a.m. on April 9 it debated Dr. Jenner's claim. Of the seven clergy, four finally voted in his favour, but the laity, by 15 to 10, negatived the motion of acceptance. Bishop Harper occupied the chair all through the night, and was subjected to vehement attacks from the Jenner side. But he showed such admirable temper and Christian forbearance that the leading opponent, who, on the first day, refused to join in a simple motion of congratulation to the new primate, was conspicuous at the end of the session in supporting the vote of thanks to the president.
Bishop Jenner left the country soon afterwards, but he never withdrew his claims. In this attitude he was supported by the Bishop of Lichfield and by the rest of the English episcopate. The synodical system of the New Zealand Church is justly looked upon as one of the greatest achievements of Selwyn's life. There is something tragic in the reflection that he ended by flouting its authority.