The Treaty of Waitangi; or, how New Zealand became a British Colony

by Thomas Lindsay Buick

Though severely handicapped by his inability to coordinate his ideas with those of the Missionaries, or to sink his individuality before theirs, it does not follow that Mr. Busby was entirely idle. He lent himself with considerable industry to the task of placing the shipping of the country upon a basis more satisfactory than it had up to that time been. At the date of his arrival there were a number of New Zealand owned craft trading on our coasts, and several vessels were building on the Hokianga River. Sailing as these vessels were under no recognised register, and without the protection of the British ensign, which they were prohibited from hoisting, they were liable to seizure at any time by any enterprising pirate.[14] Equally impossible was it for these owners to register their craft in New Zealand, for there was as yet no acknowledged flag of the nation.

These facts were made the subject of representation by Mr. Busby to the Governor of New South Wales, who accorded a hearty approval to his suggestion that the commerce of the country warranted some protection of this nature. Flags of three separate designs were accordingly entrusted to Captain Lambert of H.M.S. Alligator, who brought them from Sydney and submitted them to the chiefs for approval.

This event took place at Waitangi, on March 20, 1834, the natives having been gathered from all the surrounding pas into a large marquee erected in front of the British Residency, and gaily decorated with flags from the Alligator. Wisely or unwisely the proceedings were not conducted upon the democratic basis of our present-day politics; for upon some principle which has not been made clear the tent was divided by a barrier into two areas, into one of which only the rangatiras were admitted, and to them the right of selection was confined. No debate was permitted, but Mr. Busby read to the chiefs a speech in which he dwelt upon the advantages to be anticipated from the adoption of a national flag, and then invited them to take a vote for the choice of design.

This mode of procedure created considerable dissatisfaction amongst the plutocracy of the tribes, who resented the doubtful privilege of being permitted to look on without the consequential right to exercise their voice. The stifling of discussion also tended to breed distrust in the minds of some of the chiefs, to whom the settlement of so important a matter without a korero[15] was a suspicious innovation. Two of the head men declined to record their votes, believing that under a ceremony conducted in such a manner there must be concealed some sinister motive. Despite these protests, the British Resident and Captain Lambert had their way, and at the conclusion of Mr. Busby's address, the flags were displayed and the electors invited to vote. The great warrior chief Hongi, acting as poll-clerk, took down in writing the preference of each chief. Twelve votes were recorded for the most popular ensign, ten for the next in favour, and six only for the third. It was then found that the choice of the majority had fallen upon the flag with a white ground divided by St. George's Cross, the upper quarter of which was again divided by St. George's cross, a white star on a blue field appearing in each of the smaller squares.[16]

The election over, the rejected flags were close furled, and the selected ensign flung out to the breeze beside the Union Jack of Old England.

In the name of the chiefs Mr. Busby declared the ensign to be the national flag of New Zealand. As the symbol of the new-born nation was run up upon the halyards, it was received with a salute of twenty-one guns from the warship Alligator, and by cheers from her officers and the goodly crowd of sailors, settlers, and Missionaries who had assembled to participate in the ceremony.

As is usual with most such functions where Britons are concerned, the event was celebrated by a feast. The Europeans were regaled at a cold luncheon at Mr. Busby's house, while the Maoris had pork, potatoes, and kororirori[17] served upon the lawn in front of the Residency, which delicacies they devoured sans knives sans forks.

These proceedings subsequently received on behalf of the British Government the entire approbation of Lord Aberdeen;[18] and the countenance thus lent to what at the time was regarded as no more than a protection to the commerce of the country was discovered to have a most important bearing upon the question of Britain's sovereignty over these islands.

Though Mr. Busby found himself destitute of legal power or military force to make good his authority, and equally lacking in the tact necessary to secure by policy what he could not achieve by any other means, he was sincerely and even enthusiastically loyal to the main principle underlying his office—the preservation of British interests. Thus when the tidings came that Baron de Thierry intended to set up his kingdom at Hokianga, he took immediate and, as far as lay in his power, effective steps to defeat what he regarded as a wanton piece of French aggression.

Baron de Thierry was not a Frenchman in the narrow sense of the term, and his foreign associations were more imaginary than real. He was the son of a French noble refugee who had fled his country and had resided in England for many years. The Baron had been educated at Cambridge, had acquired English sympathies, and had been an officer in the 23rd Lancers, so that he was in sentiment if not by birth a subject of the King. When Hongi, the great Nga-Puhi chief, visited Cambridge in company with his compatriot Waikato and Mr. Kendall, to assist Professor Lee in the compilation of the Maori vocabulary, the Baron met the warrior chief, and became fired with the romance of the Pacific. There was much that was quixotic in his scheme of becoming a potentate amongst the savages of the South Seas, and it is possible it was not altogether devoid of benevolence.[19] There is at least reason to believe that Baron de Thierry had persuaded himself that he also had a mission for the uplifting of the benighted, and that when he arranged with Mr. Kendall to purchase him an area of land at Hokianga whereon he proposed to set up his "kingdom," he did so more in the spirit of philanthropy than of mercenary adventure. The area alleged to be purchased by Mr. Kendall on behalf of the Baron was the considerable one of 40,000 acres, and the price paid was the inconsiderable one of 36 axes. The transaction was accompanied by the usual misunderstanding as to the real nature of the deal, the Baron declaring that the axes were payment in full, the natives contending they were but a deposit, or at the best payment for a much smaller area.