1862 - Ward, R. Lectures from New Zealand - LECTURE VII. TARANAKI: IN PEACE AND IN WAR.

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LECTURE VII.

We steadily believe that the affairs of the world are managed by "our Father who is in heaven," whose wisdom prevents error in His providence, and whose benevolence secures our well-being. Yet strange events occur; the causes of some lie beyond our reach, but others may be traced to the base passions of our fallen nature and the influence of evil spirits. One of the most terrible illustrations of this may be seen in war, when life is sacrificed, property destroyed, and untold miseries are entailed. Our attention has been unhappily turned to this subject by the scenes which we have lately witnessed, and the calamities which have fallen upon our province. But these things, sad as they are, will be overruled for our good, and will be acknowledged as a part of the means by which the gracious purposes of God will be accomplished.

One effect of this war has been to bring Taranaki

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more prominently before the world. While a meed of praise has long been given to this part of New Zealand, it made but little impression upon the commercial world, for barques from England rarely visited our roadstead, and events but seldom occurred to disturb our rural life. The visitor found a healthy climate, and a country well watered with streams of crystal purity. Beautiful tracks of rich level land, extending from the iron sand which lines the beach to the foot of Mount Egmont, whose locks of snowy whiteness form a distinguishing feature in the landscape, make an impression on the mind which does not soon wear off. But with some superior natural advantages, Taranaki has been reckoned among the feeblest of our provinces. The truth of this allegation we acknowledge, and the causes of it might be easily stated. But suddenly, and unhappily, our province was forced into notoriety. It became the seat of war. Then the newspapers of the north and the south copied the journals of our events. The House of Representatives spent weeks in discussing our localities and defining our rights. The broad sheets which issue from the steam presses of Great Britain reported our proceedings. In the House of Commons the Waitara and the Waireka formed an interesting theme; and our claims were considered in the cabinet of Her Majesty.

But give us back our homes; our houses, barns, and gardens; our broad acres of grain and root; our cattle, horses and sheep. Give us back our husbands and fathers, sons and brothers, whom the bullets have pierced, and the tomahawk has hacked in pieces. Give

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us from the grave our mothers, wives, and children, whom disease, induced by the war, has laid in the dust. Give us these with our former obscurity, rather than the loss of these with the notoriety we have obtained. Our object is to describe Taranaki as it was and as it is. Were we to go back as far as the Maori times, before the colony was formed, we should be painfully interested in the slaughter and cannibal feasts which often disgraced this district. Evidences of these may be seen in the old paths which meet the eye in every direction. Forty years ago here was a numerous population; but the Waikato tribes came upon them with an overwhelming force, and sanguinary battles were fought. Sickening stories are related about the prisoners who were taken, the ovens which were heated, and the feasts which were horribly enjoyed. A considerable number were conducted to Waikato as slaves. Many found a home in the dense forest at the foot of Mount Egmont, and others sought refuge in that part of the island where Wellington is now situated.

This was the state of the country twenty years ago, when the agents of the New Zealand company sought a tract of land on which to found a settlement. Of the few natives then living in this district a tract of land was bought, and surveyed, and a township was laid out, to which was given the name of New Plymouth, in honour of the first settlers, many of whom came from Devonshire.

The first settlers found a rich and inviting soil; but an extensive forest with dense tangled underwood frowned upon them, and seemed to bid them defiance.

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But the fern land attracted their attention. There roads were made, streams were spanned, and homesteads were surveyed; rural cottages were built, gardens were planted, and plots were sown with wheat. Then these sons of enterprise waited with patience mingled with anxiety to see the product of their labour, data on which they might reckon the probabilities of future comfort. They rejoiced to find that the best land produced sixty bushels of wheat per acre, and almost every thing else in abundance. But the wheat-growing quality of the soil has strangely decreased, while almost every thing else which thrives in Great Britain can be produced here in any quantities.

The majority of the early settlers were not men of capital nor of education. The former was not of much consequence, as labour was the article which a new country needed, the capital which could be turned to best account. The educational defect has not yet been remedied. Praiseworthy efforts have been made in some of the provinces of this colony to supply the means of education, from the infant school to the college, and Taranaki now talks of making an effort in the same direction.

After a few years the number of the settlers was increased by the arrival of men of tough muscles, hard bones and willing hearts; and then armed with axes and cross-cut saws, they made war on the dense forest, and in an incredibly short time the massive timber trees were lying in all directions, the trophies of well-directed energy. And as though a magic wand had been stretched over these "clearings," beautiful

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cottages arose, with nicely trimmed flower gardens, spread out before them, and well stocked orchards producing abundance of fruit. Large dairies were filled with butter and cheese, and flocks and herds fattened on the rich grass lands. Not the least interesting feature in the picture was that of the numerous children--for families are large in Taranaki, glowing with health and leaping for very joy. Oh, those bush scenes! they used to make our heart glad.

The open country presented a picture not less pleasing. There were beautiful fields divided by living fences, and herds and flocks browsing on goodly herbage. There were houses clustering like an English village, or standing farther apart like the farmsteads of our native land. Cheerful industry met the eye on work days; and on the Sabbath groups of worshippers assembled at the sound of the church and chapel bell. Hundreds of children repaired to the Sunday schools at the appointed hour, to read the Scriptures and learn what they must do to be saved. Such were the scenes which Taranaki presented at the commencement of the year one thousand eight hundred and sixty.

The plodding industry of the early colonists had been graciously rewarded. Commodious houses were comfortably furnished, and the substantial blessings of life were generally enjoyed. The young people had a fair prospect, not of wealth, as it is generally understood, but of comfort, enough for all the purposes of life and a little to spare. But a check was given to their enterprising spirit by the limited boundaries of the open country and the expense of clearing the bush.

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Many of the farmers sold the increase of their flocks and herds because they had not pasture room. Scores of young men wished to settle on homesteads of their own, but this could not be done without winning them from the heavy bush; for the rich open county, both northward and southward, is in the hands of the natives.

The salutary character of the climate was generally admitted, but few diseases were considered dangerous before the war, and deaths seldom occurred. The colonial hospital was rarely tenanted; gentlemen of the medical profession became farmers and merchants. We had a very small jail, but it was generally uninhabited. There is no lunatic asylum nor has such a place been needed except in three or four cases. A session of the supreme court has been held here but once, and the gallows has not been erected within our borders.

The natives had made considerable advancement in civilization and comfort. When we first knew the natives their clothing was the flax-mat and the blanket, their food consisted of fern-root, potatoes, fish and maize. But they soon secured a few head of cattle and some horses. Then they imitated the settlers in their cultivation and fences; they broke up large fields with the plough, and reaped abundant crops. Their houses became improved; from our carpenters, doors, windows, and boxes were purchased, and in some instances chimneys had been built. They procured many bullock carts, and their numerous working oxen were among the best in the province. Some of them

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became large stockowners. Instead of the pikau, they had the bullock cart; instead of the putrid food, they had wholesome flour, ground in their own mills; and instead of the kakau, they had clothing from Great Britain. Many of them could read and write their own language, and some had a tolerable knowledge of the elements of arithmetic. They observed the Sabbath with propriety, and attended the house of God clean and decently clothed. Their morning and evening karakia was strictly attended. And it was pleasing to hear some of the Maori brethren engage in prayer publicly, in the monthly union prayer-meetings.

A stranger visiting New Plymouth found much to interest him among both the colonists and the natives. Had he visited our whole colony, and then been requested to name the place where society was most at ease; least harassed by poverty on the one hand, or riches on the other; where the comforts of life were secured without the anxiety attending extensive commerce; where persons retiring from business might spend the evening of their days amidst the quiet of rural scenery and comfort--he might have replied with much propriety, all these blessings are enjoyed in Taranaki.

But Taranaki became the field of war, and its beauty, security and happiness fled. Of all the evils which afflict society perhaps none is so much to be dreaded as war. Though the pestilence walk in darkness, and the heavens refuse their showers, we would say, "Let us fall now into the hand of the Lord, for his mercies are great, and let us not fall into the hand of

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man." No place is too sacred for war to pollute, no injuries too great for it to inflict, scarcely respecting age, sex or station, the war spirit cries, Destroy. Shouts of victory on the one hand, and wailing, suffering, and death on the other, attend its movements. All the energies of the mind are put forth to invent instruments of destruction, and the highest honours await those who can apply them with most deadly effect.

We deeply regret that society is so moulded as to make war necessary. But this is an innovation, the result of sin. Obeying the call of ambition, envy or malice, aggressive war is ready to devour the earth. Defensive war professes to stand on other ground; it pleads that without it society would not be safe. But the time will come when the swords shall be turned into ploughshares, and the spears into pruning hooks, and the nations shall learn war no more.

War is a terrible instrument in the hands of God. Tyre, which was the greatest commercial city in the world, whose merchants were princes, and whose king is described by the prophet as "the anointed cherub," walking in the midst of the "stones of fire," has been destroyed by war; so that it is now like the top of a rock, a place on which the fisherman spreads his net. Who can fully describe the calamities which fell upon Jerusalem, when the Roman soldiers entered into the city sword in hand to cut down without mercy. Similar scenes have been witnessed a thousand times; by these means the just and holy God has punished those who refused to submit to his sway. Nor have we been guiltless. Concluding that they should die in their nest,

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and that they had enough laid up for many years, some were saying to their soul, take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry. But the events of the last two years have shewn us, that a man's life consisteth not in the things which he possesseth.

The Taranaki war was unexpected. After nearly twenty years' experience of the blessings which civilization has introduced, it was supposed that their own interests would prevent the natives from coming into collision with the Government. And the feuds which raged so fiercely between different tribes in their heathen state, and which continued in the form of sullen dislike, were not likely to permit them to conspire for any great purpose. The causes of the war are to be found in mistaken views of the intentions of the Government, and the feelings of the colonists, towards the native people: these views must be corrected before peace can be restored to the colony.

The effects of war upon many of the natives have been very sad. The war-spirit is natural to the Maories; their history is a dark page of revenge and murder; the instruments most prized were weapons of destruction; and their endurance of hunger, fatigue, and pain, was worthy of the noblest object. The arousing of this spirit has turned them into other men. They who a little while before worked in our fields, were occasionally invited to our tables, and whose earnings and productions were exchanged for our merchandise, suddenly became our murderers, lying in wait for lads and unarmed men, whom they despatched with horrible barbarity. Some natives of superior principles

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risked their life to prevent these atrocities; but they had little influence. All the wounded men who fell into their hands were killed, not a prisoner was preserved. In one place eleven skeletons of soldiers were found lying in a heap, all having their skulls smashed with the tomahawk. But in some cases the dead were honoured with a grave, having a board placed at its head with the words He Pakeha written on it, to shew that it was the grave of a white man. The bravery they displayed in attaching a redoubt full of troops, laying hold of the bayonets of our soldiers to assist them to climb the embankment, and their underground passages and rifle pits, which were proof against a great deal of our artillery, suggest the highest expectations concerning the Maori race, if they lay aside their warlike propensities, embrace the Gospel with all their heart, and make a proper use of the advantages which civilization brings within their reach.

The destruction of property by the insurgent natives has been very great. Many houses have been burnt. In some parts of the province scarcely a house is left, except the places of worship, and they are much injured, having doors and windows broken, seats destroyed, and books torn into fragments. Many cattle and horses were shot and left where they fell; sheep were thrown into wells, large herds and flocks were driven away, furniture was broken up, and farming utensils were carried away in carts. The beautiful homesteads are laid waste, gardens and orchards are destroyed, fences are broken, and desolation reigns. By these means many who were living in comfort lost all means of sup-

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port, and availed themselves of the rations allowed by Government, whose generous efforts deserve our praise. Every family being removed into town, the houses within the lines of defence were dangerously crowded; the consequence of which was disease of unwonted variety and power. Deaths were numerous.

When the hostile natives assembled in force near the town, great excitement often prevailed. Alarm guns were fired, bugles sounded, women and children ran to places of safety, companies of armed men lined the streets, the trenches were manned, and detachments marched out to meet the enemy. Waireka, Mahoetahi, Kairau, and many other spots will be remembered as scenes of conflict. There many of our troops, volunteers, and militia were killed or wounded; there many of the natives ended this life, and are interred in large graves. These places will be melancholy memorials of war.

While we write 1 there is a probability that peace will soon return and shed her blessings on our desolated province. Goodly scenes of domestic comfort will rise, phoenix-like, from the ashes of the past. An improved form of government will be applied to the native race. By the kindness which we have shewn to the prisoners of war, especially to those who were wounded, a happy impression is no doubt made upon the native mind. Much remains to be done before confidence can be restored, but in due time it shall be accomplished, and we shall sit under our vine and fig-tree again, none making us afraid.

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Having glanced at Taranaki as it was during its career of security and prosperity, and as it is under martial law and military exercises, we will venture to state our thoughts concerning the probabilities of its future history. The native mind is passing a critical period; dissatisfied with the things in which their fathers lived, the Maories were not prepared to commit themselves to the guidance of the foreign power which they saw rapidly growing up around them. A league to prevent any more of their land from falling into the hands of the pakeha, and a union of their tribes, with a king at their head, were the best means in their view to save their race from destruction. Hence the New Zealand war. But let them be fully convinced that the pakeha is their friend, and that colonization will bless them, then their good-will and co-operation will be secured, and war will be at an end. From this point the colony will march to more extensive conquests over bush and fern, mountain passes and gullies, and the rich extensive plains which now lie undisturbed, will yield abundance for a numerous population. The respect which is paid to religion, and the honourable principles on which the affairs of the colony are conducted, may be accepted as a guarantee for its future character. Taranaki is now passing through the cloud, but the sunlight already rests upon her mountain's brow. Soon will she emerge, with God's blessing, to pursue a career of peace and prosperity.

T. Danks, Printer, 9, Crane Court, Fleet Street, London.