Already before leaving England, he had thought out how to make the Church in New Zealand independent of home support as soon as possible. With this purpose he asked the S.P.G. to allow him to use what money they could grant him not in paying salaries to the clergy, but in buying sites for future churches, and lands which might provide for some endowments. He wished in the plans he made to avoid both the evils in connexion with endowments which he had seen at home and the dependence on annual grants. He proposed to have a general endowment fund so as to avoid inequalities of endowment, and he determined to allow of no private patronage. Into this general endowment fund he urged all those who received stipends from England, through the Societies or otherwise, to pay what they received, as he himself did. In time he set up in every settlement an archdeaconry church fund into which all money collected or given to the Church was to be paid, and out of which each minister was to receive his stipend. Deacons were to begin with £100, rising gradually to £300 as priests, archdeacons £400, and bishops £500 as soon as they should be appointed. In each case, if possible, a house was to be provided, though it was not guaranteed. In all his plans from the first, he aimed at keeping the Church completely independent of State control. He preferred as he said, “to maintain the Church’s independence, and to commit her support to the free charities of God.”
These plans, thought out before he left England, he set himself to carry out as opportunity arose. He proceeded at once to buy suitable land for the Church. But whilst his fertile brain was thus full of plans for the future, he was equally keen to study the conditions of the present, and before even unpacking his books, he started on a journey to visit all the mission stations in the Northern Island. One of the first places which he stopped at was Wellington, which he reached by a small trading vessel. Here he spent three weeks, much occupied in nursing a young man who had come out with him from England, and from whom he had hoped much as a fellow worker. In this he showed his ability to turn his hand to anything and his tenderness as a nurse. One who watched him wrote:
“He practised every little art that nourishment might be supplied to his patient. He pounded chicken into fine powder; he made jellies, he listened to every sound; he sat up the whole night through by the bed-side. In short he did everything worthy of his noble nature.”
His care unfortunately was in vain and to his great sorrow the young man died. Chief Justice Martin, who was going to accompany him for part of his visitation, arrived to find the Bishop pale and worn with his long nursing. The two friends then started on their journey. Most of it had to be made on foot, often wading through rivers. Sometimes it was possible to ride on horse back, sometimes to go in a canoe on the rivers. Both Bishop and Judge made light of any hardships they might meet. The beauty of the country was a constant delight, and it was a great joy to the Bishop to find the large and devout congregations of Maoris which gathered at the mission stations on Sundays. Where there were English settlers a service for them followed the native service. The Bishop writes: “I never felt the full blessing of the Lord’s day as a day of rest more than in New Zealand.” Everywhere they were warmly welcomed, alike by missionaries and natives, and the Bishop was much pleased with all that he saw. Of one evening he writes:
“The natives assembled in considerable numbers for evening service and scripture questions. After I had questioned them as much as I thought fit, I invited them to ask me their difficulties; upon which such a series of scriptural questions was asked that our meeting did not break up till ten at night, and then only because I explained that my party were tired and wanted to go to sleep.”
On another occasion he writes:
“The natives, on seeing us, sent canoes to bring us to the island, where we were received with all ceremony, welcomed with speeches, and presented with ducks, potatoes and lake shell fish. I made my return as usual in Gospels of St. Matthew.”
Some of the stations were ministered to only by native catechists and on one occasion, he was much struck by the venerable figure and manner of a fine old blind man catechising his class. It seemed as if the Christian teaching of the missionaries was already spread throughout the whole land; little churches and schools were to be found in many places, the fields around the stations were well cultivated, industries were being introduced; the Maoris, a race famous for their ferocity, were learning to live quietly and peacefully. The Bishop writes:
“There is much to encourage me: vast numbers can now read and write well and when I have lectures of an evening, it amuses me to see the means they resort to, climbing up on stands inside the building, and many come half an hour before the bell rings, so anxious are they to hear the word of God explained. Some travel ten miles on the Saturday for the services of the next day.”
One of the most interesting stations visited was that at Waikanoe, where the experienced missionary, Rev. O. Hadfield, was in charge. From there the Bishop wrote:
“You would be surprised at the comparative comfort which I enjoy in my encampments. My tent is strewn with dry fern and grass. My air-bed is laid upon it. My books, clothes and other goods lie beside it; and though the whole dimensions of my dwelling do not exceed eight feet by five, I have more room than I require and am as comfortable as it is possible for a man to be when he is absent from those he loves most. I spent October 17th, the anniversary of my consecration, in my tent on the sandhills, with no companion but three natives.... I was led naturally to contrast my present position with the very different scenes at Fulham and Lambeth last year. I can assure you that the comparison brought with it no feelings of discontent; on the contrary, I spent the greater part of the day, after the usual services and readings with my natives, in thinking with gratitude over the many mercies and blessings granted to me in the past year.”
After a night spent in Mr. Hadfield’s house, service was held in the chapel: “more than 500 had come from various parts, so that the chapel and the space outside the walls was quite full.” Later on during this journey, he was met by William Williams, whom he had decided to appoint Archdeacon of Waiapu, so that he might have the oversight of the eastern half of the Island. All that he had seen had strengthened his conviction of the need that from the first the Church should be organized on a firm basis, and as he could not be everywhere and oversee everything himself, he wished to have the help of archdeacons working under him. In spite of the large congregations of natives, he wrote that:
“This people is a very wicked people, and if ‘civilized’ without the influence of the Gospel upon it, they will not be benefited in any way. The influence of the immoral English living in the land is the greatest difficulty I have to contend with.”
At Ahuriri he found “a very numerous Christian community though they had only once been visited by a missionary. The chapel was a substantial building capable of containing four hundred people. In the evening our canoe having stuck fast, we were left without tents or food till midnight; we then procured one tent, in which the first Chief Justice, the first Bishop and the first Archdeacon of New Zealand huddled in their blankets for the night. Surely such an aggregate of legal and clerical dignity was never before collected under one piece of canvas.” He describes a Sunday on their tour a few day’s later:
“The morning opened as usual with the morning hymn of the birds, which Captain Cook compared to a concert of silver bells. When this ceased at sunrise, the sound of native voices chanting around our tents carried on the same tribute of praise and thanksgiving, while audible murmurs brought to our ears the passages of the Bible which they were reading.... I cannot convey to you the least idea of the train of innumerable thoughts which are suggested continually both by the beauty of the scenery, the character of the natives, the various plants, insects and birds.”
The next Sunday there gathered on Poverty Bay “a noble congregation of at least a thousand, assembled amid the ruins of their chapel, which had been blown down.... After morning service the natives formed into classes for reading and saying the catechism—old tattoed and boys, and submitting to lose their places for every mistake with perfect good humour.” The Bishop’s tour took him right across the centre of the island, where he walked over hills covered with fern trees, and sometimes enjoyed the rest of being paddled along a beautiful river. At one station that he visited he met the missionary, Rev. R. Maunsell, said to be one of the best linguists on the mission, and after consultation with him formed a “translation committee, composed of two clergymen and two catechists, from which he hoped in due time to get a standard copy of both Bible and Prayer-book to be published under authority.” The Chief Justice had left him to return to Auckland by sea, and on January 3rd, the Bishop also turned in the direction of Auckland and thus describes the last bit of his journey:
“My last pair of thick shoes being worn out, and my feet much blistered by walking on the stumps, I borrowed a horse from the native teacher and started at 4 a.m. to go twelve miles to Mr. Hamlin’s mission station on Manakan harbour. Then ten miles by boat across the harbour. After a beautiful run of two hours, I landed with my faithful Maori, Rota, who had steadily accompanied me all the way, carrying my bag with gown and cassock, the only articles in my possession which would have fetched sixpence in the Auckland rag market. The suit which I wore was kept sufficiently decent, by much care, to enable me to enter Auckland by daylight; and my last remaining pair of shoes (thin ones) were strong enough for the light and sandy walk of six miles. At two p.m. I reached the Judge’s house by a path avoiding the town, and passing over land which I have bought for the site of the cathedral; a spot which I hope may hereafter be traversed by the feet of many bishops, better shod and far less ragged than myself. It is a noble site overlooking the whole town and with a sea-view stretching out over the numerous islands.”
On this journey of six months, the Bishop had travelled 2,277 miles, of which he had walked 762. His chief object had been to learn to know the country and its needs, so that he might plan his future work wisely. He notes with satisfaction that on this journey he met Mr. Williams on the exact day which he had appointed more than a month before, showing how, even in travelling through wild country, it was possible to be punctual.
When Selwyn got back to the Waimate, having learned much about the country, his first care was the College. He had hoped that his friend, Mr. Whytehead, who had come out with him from England would be its head. But to his deep sorrow, he heard that Mr. Whytehead had been taken ill at Sydney, and died three months after reaching the Waimate, leaving the memory of a saintly character to inspire those who should work after him.
The chief object of the College was to train clergy. Besides the College there was a boarding school, where Selwyn’s plan was to educate Maori lads and the sons of settlers together. He had most carefully thought out the principles upon which both college and school were to be founded. He believed that it was perfectly possible to civilize the whole rising generation of New Zealanders; the one impediment was the difficulty of getting enough English teachers, for not only must education be provided, but also instruction in the “most minute details of daily life and in every useful and industrious habit.” “We are apt,” he wrote, “to forget the laborious procession by which we acquired in early life the routine duties of cleanliness, order, method and punctuality.” Men were needed to train the scholars who had no sense of their own dignity and thought nothing beneath it, “who will go into the lowest and darkest corner of the native character to see where the difficulty lies which keeps them from being assimilated to ourselves. They have received the Gospel freely, and with an unquestioning faith, but the unfavourable tendency of native habits is every day dragging back many into the state of sin from which they seemed to have escaped.... We require men who will number every hair of a native’s head, as part of the work of Him who made and redeemed the world.” He found that the bane of the native people was desultory work interrupted by total idleness, and their inclination to waste their occasional earnings on useless horses or cast-off dress clothes. He feared lest the sons of the settlers should grow up with a sense of superiority and look upon honest labour as disreputable, because of the class of servile natives who clustered round the towns. So he desired “to raise the character of both races by humbling them” and teaching them the dignity of labour. All the students were to spend part of their time in some useful occupation for the support of the institutions. There were industrial classes, where printing, carpentry, carving and weaving were taught. Selwyn considered printing, of all trades, the best fitted morally and mechanically to train “the wayward and careless disposition of an uncivilized youth,” since, “to print at all, he must work orderly.” The youngest boys were to work in the garden, the elder ones to learn farming and forestry.
In the College, though the students were to take their part in the manual labours, he wished to preserve an academic atmosphere, and the students wore caps and gowns, at any rate on special occasions. Its chief purpose was to train the clergy of the future, as he could not hope to obtain a sufficient supply from England. He wrote:
“We must go to all orders of colonists and to the native people without respect of persons, and select from among their children the future candidates for Holy Orders.”
But since it was impossible to be sure that those so chosen would grow up fitted for the ministerial vocation, no pledges were asked of them, and the opportunities of secular training provided fitted the youth to enter upon other lines of life, should it appear when the right time came that he was not fitted for the special studies needed for Holy Orders. He expected that strangers would hardly be able to understand the complex character of the Institution, but he wrote:
“There is an open and undisguised reality about our work, which seems to be highly favourable to the discrimination of character, and therefore to the due selection of instruments: a class of demure students with face and tone of voice and manner conformed to the standard which they believe to be expected, would be a poor exchange for a healthful and mirthful company of youths, as yet unconstrained by pledges and professions, who show their true character in every act of their lives whether of business or amusement.”
And again:
“The only real endowment for St. John’s College is the industry and self-denial of all its members. Even if industry were not in itself honourable, the purposes of the institution would be enough to hallow every useful art and manual labour by which its resources might be augmented.”
All the members of the mission shared in the manual work, and all, including Mrs. Selwyn, dined together with the students in the Hall. She was much beloved by the natives; they called her Mother Bishop, and described her as “having great grace.”
At Keri-keri, a few miles from Paihai, what was to be the Cathedral library was set up, in the one stone house on the island, which had been used as a store for mission supplies. This library was a very real joy to the Bishop, he speaks of a day in it as “a day of literary luxury” when he sat “looking upon the books, occasionally dipping into them. The very sight of so many venerable folios is most refreshing in this land where everything is so new”; and again “as a charming retreat for his wife when over-wearied with her many and varied duties.... The quiet is as unbroken as the most nervous person could desire, and in this respect entirely different from the inevitable noise of wooden buildings. Here also I may retire in my old age, which will probably be premature, and superintend my College at the Waimate without being subject to all its perturbations.... The charm of this library is that it is so utterly uncolonial. Its walls are worthy of a college. My books carry me back to the first ages of the Church. It is true that when I step outside the door I stumble over a mass of utilitarian treasures. Bales of blankets, iron pots, barrels of all kinds are the miscellaneous furniture of my ante-chambers; but within, everything that can most elevate and purify the mind is to be found. Leisure alone is at present wanting for us to use our treasures; but as the Church system is developed, and active archdeacons stationed at all the principal settlements, I hope to be able to give myself more to meditation and every other profitable exercise, that there may be some abundance in my own heart to flow forth for the benefit of my diocese.”
Material things which might conduce to the well-being of his people were not forgotten by the Bishop. There were then already sheep in New Zealand, but he found that “the Maoris did not know how ‘to transfer the fleece from the back of the sheep to that of the man.’” He was distressed to see precious wool buried in the ground because the natives did not know how to use it, and wrote to a friend in Wales to ask about spinning machines suitable for the manufacture of coarse cloth in his native school, and for a supply of knitting pins for the children.
As was natural there were many interruptions to peaceful progress. News of a conflict between Maoris and settlers at Wairan near Nelson which lead to the massacre of twenty-three settlers, gave the Bishop “the gloomiest day he had yet spent in New Zealand.” This conflict arose as usual over a dispute about land, from misunderstanding of native customs, and from the little knowledge on the part of the settlers of the native language and character. Selwyn was afraid lest news of it should give a bad impression of the natives. He himself was convinced of the absolute safety of free intercourse with them and wrote:
“We have no fastenings to our windows, even on the ground floor, and the door is rarely locked. In travelling I pitch my tent at whatever place I happen to reach at nightfall, and am always hospitably received. In the course of some hundred miles of travelling I have never lost anything.”
In 1844, the Bishop made a second long visitation of his diocese, and for the first time visited the southern island, then much more sparcely inhabited than the northern. It was not easy to get about on land; many rivers had to be forded and one of the party could not swim, so the Bishop’s air-bed had to be converted into a raft in order to convey him across the rivers. In one part of the island the Bishop was much troubled to find religious dissensions amongst the natives, some of whom had been taught by a Wesleyan missionary. He wrote sadly, “controversy has preceded truth, and as usual darkened true knowledge.” As his later policy showed, had he found a really strong Wesleyan mission established, he would not have attempted to interfere; but he found that the mission had only been roused into some sort of activity when other teachers had appeared on the field. He could not recognize that the mere fact of the residence of one missionary, entitled that one to claim the spiritual care of all the southern islands. Neither would he countenance intercommunion between Wesleyans and Anglicans as had been the custom in some parts before his coming. But his personal intercourse with the Wesleyan missionary was most friendly. He writes:
“I stayed one day and a half in his house; but I told him that I could make no transfer of catechumens; that we must hold our own.”
He saw need for vigorous work in the south amongst the half-caste population, “where the fathers and mothers have been living together for some years, I married them and baptized their children: in all twenty-five couples married and sixty-one children baptized. I must have a visiting clergyman in the Straits as soon as possible, but where to find a man fit for the work I know not.... Many of the old whalers and sealers are settling down into a more quiet life, and are to a man anxious that their children should not follow the course of life which they have led themselves.” The problems he met with on this visitation made him think much of his future plans for the diocese, seeking guidance in framing them from the first three centuries of the Church’s history.
Amongst the Bishop’s difficulties were his relations with the Church Missionary Society. Whilst full of admiration for the work of their missionaries, he would not ordain the laymen among them except on the condition that he decided the sphere of their work. As the Society refused to accept this condition, the Bishop would not ordain the catechists in their missions. He also refused to ordain any as priests who had not attained a certain standard of learning, and he waited to ordain any native till he considered him sufficiently educated. In all these matters, the Society had a different policy. They were accustomed to control their own missions from home and were not inclined to give way to a Bishop who had only come out after the missions had been well established. These and other difficulties and misunderstandings led to the refusal of the Society to rent permanently to the Bishop the wooden buildings at the Waimate, where he had set up his College.
As he could not stay at the Waimate Selwyn determined to move at once to Auckland which he had always intended to be the Episcopal See. When the Maoris in the Waimate district heard of his intended removal, there was much disturbance. Lady Martin describes the scene that followed. It was on what was called market day, when the Maoris brought their wares for sale, and before the traffic began there was school and cathechising in the chapel after morning prayers.
“The people had heard a rumour of the Bishop’s intention to remove to Auckland, and there was a great deal of speech-making on the subject. A powerful speaker opened the debate. The orator began by trotting slowly up and down a given space, always beginning and ending each sentence with his run to and fro. After a while he got warmed up and excited, and then he rushed backwards and forwards, he leaped up off the ground, he slapped his thigh, shouted, waved his spear.”
It seemed more as if he were breathing out death and destruction than as if he were urging the Bishop to stay among his people.
“It was very amusing to see the two brothers Williams stand up and answer them. Archdeacon Henry Williams, a stout, old-fashioned looking clergyman with broad-brimmed hat and spectacles, marched up and down with a spear in his hand, and elicited shouts of applause. Then his brother drew a large space on the gravel, and divided it into three parts, and asked whether it was not fair that the Bishop should live in the middle of the diocese instead of at either end. There was a loud murmur of voices, ‘It is just,’ but all the same they did not like to lose him and his large party from among them.”
A month later, the Bishop, with his family and friends, started for Auckland. Mrs. Selwyn and their little boy rode, the Bishop walked, carrying his infant son swathed in a plaid to his side. As they left the Waimate, crowds gathered to bid them farewell. At Auckland the large party, together with the native students, had to live in tents till the college buildings were ready for them.
In order that there might be someone to superintend the Church in the Waimate district, Selwyn appointed Henry Williams to be Archdeacon of the Waimate, saying in his letter to him, “your long experience, and your great influence with the natives, will give me the greatest confidence in delegating to you the charge of this portion of my diocese.”
In September, 1844, as a further step to that complete organization which he contemplated, the Bishop summoned a Synod of his clergy. Three Archdeacons, four other priests and two deacons met together with him, in order “to frame rules for the better management of the mission and the general government of the Church.” On this occasion they discussed only questions of church discipline and extension, but it was the beginning of that complete system of self-government which was to establish the independence of the Church in New Zealand.
The Maori chiefs regarded the treaty of Waitangi as the Charter of their liberties, and in the opinion of Bishop Selwyn it was “highly beneficial to the people of New Zealand since it gave them the protection of the British Government and assured them ‘that no land would be taken from them which they were not willing to sell.’” But the treaty was obnoxious to the members of the New Zealand Company, since it was a continual hindrance to their plans for the development of the Colony. They were constantly arousing the suspicions of the Maoris by their efforts to evade it. The conditions of the country were rapidly changing and as yet the new order had not been firmly established. On the one side were the fears and suspicions of the Maoris that they had been betrayed and would lose their lands, suspicions encouraged by those white adventurers who disliked the idea of a settled government. On the other side was what Selwyn described as “the discontented and insubordinate temper of our own settlers.” He writes of the situation as follows:
“The one general imputation against all of us was a concealed intention of dispossessing the natives of their land, and reducing them to slavery. In support of this, the acts of our countrymen in other lands were related to them.”
The missionaries made constant efforts for peace and assured the natives that the British Government was determined to protect their rights and property. Great was their surprise and consternation when a Report of the House of Commons stated that “all lands not actually occupied by the natives are declared to be vested in the Crown.” Selwyn wrote:
“The natives of New Zealand cannot bear this uncertainty; they can see the merits of a question as clearly as we can; but if they detect us in a falsehood, or even in a change of purpose the reason of which they cannot understand, our influence with them is lost.”
It was in the neighbourhood of the Bay of Islands that there was most restlessness, and here the discontented Maoris gathered round a chief named John Heke. On a hill overlooking the village of Kororareke there was a blockhouse with a few soldiers and a flagstaff on which the British flag was flying. This was to the natives a symbol of British sovereignty. Heke was a Christian and had no hostility to the missionaries, nor did he desire to destroy the property of the settlers. It was the fear lest his people should be reduced to the condition of slaves that aroused his hostility. The Bishop writes:
“Meetings began to be held at which John Heke was the chief speaker, the subject of discussion being the cutting down of the flagstaff. In the month of August, 1844, Heke assembled a party of armed men, and proceeded to Kororareke, where he spent Saturday and part of Sunday in alarming the natives and early on Monday morning, mounted the hill and cut down the flagstaff. I was at Paihai at the time, engaged in the native school, at the close of which the first words I heard were ‘the colour has fallen.’ I shuddered at the thought of this beginning of hostilities, so full of presage of evil for the future. Heke then crossed to Paihai, and with his party danced the war dance in my face, after which many violent speeches were made.”
The Bishop’s fears were justified; a troubled period of anarchy followed. Soldiers were sent for from Sydney to defend the settlers and their property. The fighting was most serious in the district round Kororareke. During the next two years the flagstaff was cut down on three more occasions, and the town of Kororareke was captured by the Maori rebels. The Bishop watched the attack from his little sailing vessel, to which he had brought some of the wives and children of the settlers for safety. Then he landed with Mr. Williams to recover and bury the bodies of the dead. He wrote:
“We found the town in the possession of the natives, who were busily engaged in plundering the houses. Their behaviour to us was perfectly civil and inoffensive. Several immediately guided us to the spots where the bodies were down upon this day of sorrow.... The state of the town after the withdrawal of the troops was very characteristic. The natives carried on their work of plunder with perfect composure, neither quarrelling among themselves nor resenting any attempt on the part of the English to recover portions of their property.... With sorrow I observed that many of the natives were wheeling off casks of spirits; but they listened patiently to my remonstrances, and in one instance they allowed me to turn the cock and let the liquor run out upon the ground.”
That evening he rode to the Waimate and from there watched the burning of Kororareke, the whole sky lighted up by the blaze of burning houses. The next morning passing near the scene of desolation to get to his boat, he noticed how “all that had been devoted to mammon was gone, but heathen vengeance had spared the patrimony of God. The two chapels and the houses of the clergy remained undestroyed.” It was impossible to say what would be the result of this native success upon the “position and prospects” of the Christian teachers. But there were some hopeful signs, and the Bishop was clear as to the part he intended to play. “My hope is that by cautious and judicious management, the Church interest in this country may be kept clear of all political dissensions. On one point I think that I may speak decisively, that there is no evidence of any general or indiscriminate hatred of the natives towards the English settlers, or any disposition to bloodthirsty or savage acts of violence. The proceedings at Kororareke were conducted with all the usages of European warfare.... In the midst of much that was fearful, there was much also that proved the indirect effect of religion and civilization upon the minds of the natives.... There are many signs which give us great hopes for the future.”
The Bishop exerted himself on every possible occasion to promote peace and to save life, exposing himself fearlessly in his efforts to bring off safely the wives and children of the settlers, who were conveyed to Auckland and there cared for by Mrs. Selwyn and the other ladies. But his absolute neutrality was not appreciated and he was called a traitor because he would not share in the general hatred of the natives. He did not allow his unpopularity to disturb him and wrote:
“The real subject of grief is the injury which is done to religion by the un-Christian feelings and language which many permit and justify in themselves. In this perversion of public feeling it becomes necessary to stand firm and let the flood sweep by.”
But his courage and devotion were amply recognized by those who witnessed it. The officer commanding the Hazard, the British vessel which had brought the troops from Sydney to the ill-fated encounter with the natives, wrote to him saying:
“There is not a single man on board who does not appreciate your conduct.... Go where you will, you will carry with you the good wishes of all who saw you under the late trying circumstances.”
The disturbances had begun whilst the Bishop was on a confirmation tour. At one place he had confirmed 300 natives, and there were numbers of Christian natives quite ready to fight for him should he desire it. Now that there was a general fear lest the unrest caused by the rising of Heke should spread and endanger the settlements further south, the Bishop was anxious to visit them and do all he could to promote peace. On this journey he took Mrs. Selwyn with him. She helped in the work of spreading confidence by her ministrations to the sick. She felt no fear of any possible unfriendliness on the part of the natives, for as she wrote:
“If you live among them, you find them looking up to you and clinging to you in all points, and the fear ceases.”
To her great delight she was taken on a little bush expedition, as she longed to see with her own eyes how so large a part of the Bishop’s life was spent. During these next years he carried on the work of ministering to his people and administering his diocese in the midst of continual anxiety caused by the Maori unrest, consequent on the efforts of the New Zealand Company to get possession of the native lands.
The failure of the Governor, Captain Fitzroy, to restore order led to his removal, and Sir George Grey, a young and able administrator, was sent from South Australia to take his place. Under his energetic measures conditions were improving, when news came from England that the pressure brought to bear upon the Colonial Office by the New Zealand Company, had led to an Act being passed through Parliament (1846) which set aside the Treaty of Waitangi and annulled its provisions. Against this both Judge Martin and Bishop Selwyn protested in no measured terms. They considered it a breach of faith, destructive of the honour of England and certain to put an end to all hope of peaceful relations with the Maoris. The strength of the Bishop’s feelings is shown in a letter to a friend in which he says:
“I would rather that he (Earl Grey, the Colonial Secretary) cut me in pieces than induced me, by any personal compliments, to resign the New Zealanders to the tender mercies of men, who avow the right to take the land of the New Zealanders, and who would not scruple to use force for that purpose.”
The Bishop’s protest led to his being spoken of in the House of Commons by the radical member, Joseph Hume, as “a turbulent priest.” Sir George Grey realized at once the impossibility of carrying out the instructions sent by the Colonial Office. He professed to believe that they were not meant to be carried out literally, and his representations led the English Government to agree to suspend the execution of the Act passed by Parliament for five years, during which time Sir George Grey devoted himself to framing a new constitution for the colony.
Unfortunately the difficulties of the land question disturbed the relations of the Bishop with one of the most experienced and revered missionaries in the country, Henry Williams, whom he had made Archdeacon of Waimate. Williams, in order to make provision for his family, had bought land from the natives on which he had settled his sons, who cultivated it with great success. His claim to these lands was approved by the Council set up in 1844 by Governor Fitzroy to consider the whole question of land claims. In recommending the awards made to Henry Williams the Governor said, “that there could be no doubt that Mr. Williams had done more for the advancement and improvement of the aboriginal race than any other individual member of the missionary body.” But the missionaries by their defence of the rights of the natives were extremely unpopular with the New Zealand Company, and the good condition of the lands held by the Williams family, owing to their excellent farming, excited the jealousy of the incoming colonists. The new Governor, Sir George Grey, saw that questions of land tenure were the chief cause of all the troubles with the natives. In his early days, when only insufficiently acquainted with conditions in New Zealand, he was much too ready to believe the accusations made by the Company against the missionaries of having used their position to acquire unlawfully large tracts of lands from the natives. He wrote home to the Colonial Office a private dispatch condemning in strong language the land purchases of the missionaries. Bishop Selwyn, who on other occasions had vigorously defended the missionaries against the Company, did not on principle approve of missionaries owning land for themselves. He wished that their sons should be trained for the service of the Church, and he appealed to the missionaries to teach their children “to renounce the barren pride of ownership for the moral husbandry of Christ’s kingdom in the harvest of souls.” In his zeal and eagerness he seems to have forgotten that all young men are not fitted to be missionaries or teachers. To him it was a plain issue; he did not sufficiently understand Williams’ position. To Williams it appeared that the Bishop was in alliance with the Governor against him, and he felt bitterly the seeming desertion of the man whom he had admired so warmly. When urged by the Bishop to give up the title deeds to his lands he refused. Strong in the consciousness of his own uprightness, he would consent to no compromise by which it might have seemed that he felt himself to be in the wrong. It was not his property that he was defending, but his character, which had been impugned by the charges made against his conduct by the Governor to the Home Government. The whole matter was of course brought before the Church Missionary Society at home. They were plunged into great perplexity. They did not feel themselves strong enough to oppose the authorities both at home and in New Zealand, and they did not really thoroughly know the facts. They decided at last that the wisest course to pursue was to dismiss Henry Williams from their service. He made no further attempt to defend himself, but, deeply hurt at the treatment he had received after his long and devoted service, he left his home at Paihai and retired to his sons’ farm at Pakaraka, amidst the loud regrets of the people amongst whom he had lived and worked for twenty-seven years, and amongst whom he had hoped to die. He had defended himself warmly, with all the impetuosity of his nature, for he had felt himself to be a man cruelly caluminated. Now he would say no more. He continued to work amongst the Maoris in his neighbourhood, and a church was built for him by his sons in which he ministered. Meanwhile his brother went to England and explained the case fully to the C.M.S. In 1854 when Bishop Selwyn and Sir George Grey were both in England, they too, having no doubt arrived at a fuller understanding of the matter, visited the C.M.S., and the Bishop expressed his wish that Williams should be reinstated, which was done.
The complexity and importance of the land question in New Zealand is shown by this painful controversy, in which men of the high character of Bishop Selwyn and Sir George Grey were led, in their zeal for order and for the rights of the Maoris, to condemn, on insufficient knowledge a man of the character and devotion of Henry Williams. He himself no doubt added to the difficulty by his impetuous character and his caustic way of expressing himself, but on the question in dispute itself, not a shadow of blame can be attached to him. Selwyn seems to have judged over hastily, and to have shown incapacity to see all sides of the question, in his desire that the missionaries should show themselves superior to all worldly considerations. Henry Williams believed that the Bishop was led away by his love of power, and that he was unable to give way when he first discovered that he had made a mistake. In later years friendly relations between him and the Williams family were fully resumed. How much he valued and appreciated the family, is shown by the fact that William Williams was amongst the first of the men he recommended to fill one of the new sees formed when his diocese was divided.
These three men, Selwyn, Grey and Williams, were all equally anxious to uphold justice and the best interests of the Maoris, though they differed so seriously on this occasion. Selwyn’s attitude towards the Maoris made him most unpopular for a time amongst the settlers. His constant effort was to promote peace and to ensure prosperity and justice for all, but long afterwards, he would recall how his arrival used to be greeted by the settlers with “Here comes the Bishop to prevent us fighting with the natives.” One day when he was landing in a small boat from his schooner at Wellington, he heard a man asking his companion: “What’s that schooner that has come in this evening?” and the reply was, “Oh, that old fool the Bishop’s.” Jumping on shore at that moment he called out, chuckling and rubbing his hands, “Yes, and here’s the old fool himself.” He went on his way careless of popularity and heedless of the criticism inevitable in the case of a man of such vigour and so many activities.
He found relief from his many anxieties in the work connected with his college and schools at Auckland. These were beautifully situated about five miles outside the town. Gifts from England enabled him to erect solid stone buildings, a hospital as well as the schools; each year there was some improvement. There were playing fields where the Maori boys could play cricket, pastures for cattle and sheep, as well as gardens, fields, a printing press, weaving and carpentering sheds. In 1846 there were already one hundred and thirty persons, English and Maori, connected with the College. All alike shared in the cultivation of the estate and lived together as one family. The Bishop wrote:
“I have given up house-keeping and have brought all my income to bear on the College.”
Mrs. Selwyn shared his work in every way in her power. She taught in the girls’ school and nursed in the hospital. In Judge Martin and his wife they had friends who sympathized with all their plans and gave them much personal help.
When visiting the mission stations round the coast in his little sailing vessel, the Bishop was always on the look out for new scholars. He wrote to a friend whilst on one of these voyages:
“Can you conceive a more interesting employment than hunting in this wild country for hopeful plants to stock my nursery at Auckland. One of my main employments during this journey has been to collect the children of the native settlements and examine them; and where I found anyone who especially pleased me, to invite his father to bring him up to my school. In no case have I met with a refusal.... I have no doubt that I can have as many as we can afford to maintain from all parts of the island. My Eton experience I hope will be of use to me in this search, for nothing used to interest me more than to form opinions of the character of the boys from their physiognomy, and then watch their progress through the school. I think that I have heard you say as a dahlia fancier that Brown, of Slough, is in the habit of growing thousands of seedlings in the hope of raising one rare and valuable flower; and so people, in the hope of rearing some few who may hereafter be admitted to the ministry. That they have intellectual powers of a high order I have no doubt; what they want is an entire correction of habits.”
The Maoris had learned confidence in him, and men, old, prejudiced and bloodstained had come to desire a better training for their children. He had well advanced plans for a second College in the Southern Island, but this he was not able to establish owing to the pressure of other calls.
The Bishop’s desire was to educate the sons of the settlers and the Maoris together, and this was done at first. He wrote in 1849:
“I must be a tyrant, and to be a good natured tyrant is the difficulty. The explosive element in all countries having a mixed population, is the disposition of the one to domineer over the other. We are succeeding at last, I hope in amalgamating the two races in an equality of privileges and position; but it is uphill work; it seemed so natural to every English boy and man to have a Maori for his fag. I think that by God’s blessing we shall succeed at last, and if we do it will be a glorious measure of success.”
This growing work made the Bishop anxiously eager for more helpers. He wrote urgently to Mr. Abraham who had promised to leave Eton and join him as soon as he could. The work he saw before him was too great for one man. He wrote:
“To move my diocese in any perceptible degree, I must multiply my own single force through a multitude of wheels and powers; alone I am powerless. Before me lies an inert mass which I am utterly unable to heave; and there is no engine ready by which I can supply the defects of my own weakness. I am bewildered by the multitude of details, and sometimes doubt whether I am right in complicating the episcopate with all the machinery of the subordinate ministries; and yet I feel that without that pervading influence, the whole system will be powerless.”
These words show what the organization of his diocese meant to him. He was planting a free and independent Church which was to endure, not doing a piece of individual mission work. Cherishing these wide plans for the future, he wanted helpers who could take his place when he had to be absent on his visitation journeys. “I have scarcely a person in the place,” he writes, “who has any eye for minute and careful arrangement, without which no barbarous people, I am sure, can ever be thoroughly Christianised. Throughout the whole mission the delusion has prevailed more or less, that the Gospel will give habits as well as teach principles. My conviction is that habits uncorrected will be the thorns which will choke the good seed ... to get that personal and parental care bestowed upon the native children which will qualify them to be hereafter Christian parents in every sense, is the difficulty which almost weighs me to the ground.” The smaller cares and the great visions of the future all had their place in his mind, but he could not help fearing what might be the effect on an over-detailed mind of the increasing serving of tables. He felt that he specially needed the help of his friend when “the very causes which most require earnestness in prayer made him unable to pray as he ought.
“Expect nothing from us,” he wrote, “but bring with you as large a spiritual treasure as you can. Come to help rather than to be helped.” Two years later in 1849, when he at last heard that Mr. Abraham was able to come, he wrote to his close friend, Edward Coleridge,
“My heart beats with joy at the prospect of Abraham coming. O what a blessing it will be to a mind not only beginning to be overwrought but beginning to be conscious of it.... Abraham will sustain part of the spiritual and intellectual strain which falls upon the head of such an institution as this.... If I could but feel that I was so growing in grace as to increase in fitness for the work as the work itself increases, I could then bound over the sea and over every New Zealand forest and mountain with the lightest of hearts and the most buoyant of hopes. But if the work should increase faster than the supply of inward strength, and if help should be withheld in the form in which it would be most welcome, by the subdivision of the diocese, it is not any bodily decay which I fear so much as that overmuch service may make my mind careful and troubled about many things, and unable even in old age, to sit in contemplation at the feet of Christ.”