1925 - Morton, H. B. Recollections of Early New Zealand - CHAPTER II, p 16-28

       
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  1925 - Morton, H. B. Recollections of Early New Zealand - CHAPTER II, p 16-28
 
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CHAPTER II.

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CHAPTER II.

A Discouraging Reception--Maori War Alarms--An Amusing Incident -- First Impressions -- The Waterfront -- The Water Supply and Drainage--Custom House--Bank of New Zealand--Postage and Telegraphic Facilities--The Suburbs--The Medical Profession--Taxation--Maori as a Provision Merchant--Maori Manhood--Food Importation--Education--A Devastating Whirlwind.

The reception which met the Tyburnia's passengers was not encouraging. Houses were excessively scarce, and residents were greatly scared at the first approach of the dreaded small-pox to New Zealand shores. Many found it impossible to obtain any kind of accommodation, and were glad to shelter in tents which they were allowed to set up in the Domain. My family gave up the weary quest, and was faced with the prospect of a night in the open air. A friendly draper in Shortland Street offered the use of his shop as a last resource. The offer was gratefully accepted, and, leaving our belongings on the wharf all unguarded, we bought a few provisions and made our first meal in the new land, amid cases of drapery and piles of clothing. These were the days of the Maori War. The number of British soldiers in the country was greatly below its ultimate complement. The Waikato Militia had not been enlisted. Rightly or wrongly, the authorities had an idea that a night attack was within the bounds of possibility, or even probability. As a precautionary measure several blockhouses were in evidence around the town, and a rifle pit had been constructed near St. Andrew's Church as a useful

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corrective should a landing of hostile natives be attempted in front of the Maori hostelry--in what was then called Mechanics Bay.

We were told before retiring that in the event of a night attack the signal of alarm would be the ringing of bells. We new arrivals were quite unaccustomed to fire bells, and when at midnight we heard the loud and continuous clanging of bells we quite naturally assumed the Maoris were on the war-path, and rushed to the door of the shop to assure ourselves of the worst. We found Shortland Street almost deserted. It was evident the Maoris had not arrived. A stray wayfarer informed us that the firebells were ringing only for a fire in High Street. He was amused at the fears of the new arrivals, but the incident was anything but a pleasant accompaniment to our first night in New Zealand.

It is difficult to realise the difference between present-day conditions and those of these early days. I have already mentioned the very limited wharfage accommodation. The Harbour front came up to Customs Street--the street itself terminating to the west of Point Britomart, a picturesque headland running out into the harbour, the low cliffs dotted with fine pohutukawa trees. On this point, overlooking the harbour, was Fort Britomart, belonging to the British War Authorities, a very primitive fort even in those days, and used as a storehouse for military material.

A long flight of cranky wooden steps known as "Jacob's Ladder" was the only means of access from Customs Street to the top of Point Britomart. Near the foot of these steps lay an old abandoned hulk which had been converted into a blacksmith's shop. It was approached from the shore by a wooden gangway and bore a notice board informing those interested that Thomas Inglis, shipsmith, was prepared to execute all descriptions of ships ironwork in the best manner.

For many years the only building extending beyond the Customs Street harbour frontage was an iron shed built

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on piles, just beyond the site of the present Palmerston Buildings, on which was painted the notice in Maori "E whare hoko Kapia tenei." It was, in fact the Gum Store of the late Mr. Robert Walker, at that time, the principal buyer of kauri gum, and the notice contained the information that he was prepared to deal in that commodity.

The Gas Company, lately started, had a small plant in Graham Street, a little beyond the western end of Customs Street, where its works were carried on for many years afterwards.

The Waitemata Hotel was a primitive-looking wooden building owned by one Hugh Coolahan. There was no Thames Hotel. The eastern corner of the street was unoccupied save by an itinerant coffee-stall, owned by an enterprising negro--probably the only one of his race in the community.

There was great laxity in regard to straying animals, and complaints were frequent that horses, cows and pigs found their way into people's gardens in Princes Street and other places equally near the young city.

The Club House was a small building in Eden Crescent, and is, I think, still standing close to the well-known "Cargen" Hotel.

There was no municipal water supply, and in the summer time the scarcity of water was a serious matter. The Herald of 11th January, 1865, commented on the situation in somewhat picturesque language: "How long," it asked, "are we to remain poisoned by the foetid liquid we are (many of us) now compelled to resort to, no person can tell." Mr. Cracroft Wilson, of Christchurch, paid a visit to Auckland about this time, and on his return made a speech in which he said: "I was twenty days in Auckland, and yet, during the whole of that time, I never saw a cup of pure water, and in some parts of the city, where rain had not fallen for some time, fears were entertained that fresh water for all the purposes of life would be so scarce as to

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necessitate its being sold in the street." As a matter of fact a Captain Casey did at this period advertise that he was prepared to deliver fresh water to the order of citizens. I cannot recall where he procured it. There were several pumps in Queen Street, which were free to the public.

It is, perhaps, worth recording the source from which ships of war and some of the merchant vessels procured a supply of water. There was a beautiful spring in the grounds of the late David Nathan's residence appropriately known as "Bella Vista," in Waterloo Quadrant. Pipes were laid from a small reservoir supplied by this spring down Short Street and along the Wynyard Pier which, in early days, formed a continuation of Short Street. It was an interesting sight to see the men-o'-war pinnaces with enormous canvas receptacles the full size of the boats, coming in to the pier, filling up, and off to their ships. This fine spring still flows, although its water is no longer used for drinking.

Practically unlimited supplies of pure water for individual households were obtainable from wells on all but scoria soil, and nearly every house of the better kind had this useful accessory, so that the position was hardly so bad as it was painted. Still, it was bad enough.

When the question of the best source of a supply was discussed a somewhat heated controversy arose. Some favoured Waitakerei, others the Western Springs. The spring at Seccombe's Brewery, and those in the Domain had their advocates, whilst a few sanguine persons thought that a sufficiency might be obtained from wells. Rain water was generally stored in wooden casks which incidentally served as breeding places for countless swarms of mosquitos. The more sanitary 400-gallon square iron tanks were not then in very general use.

Drainage was practically non-existent, and fever was naturally very prevalent. The small creek, which originally ran along the bottom of the gully--the present Queen Street

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--had been enclosed as a drain, and found its exit at the head of the wharf on the point which is now the main entrance to Palmerston Buildings, but the City Commissioners had no power to compel owners to connect. They passed a resolution towards the end of the year 1864 affirming the necessity of obtaining the power. The enclosed drain must, however, have received a certain amount of sewage for the stench it emitted was always offensive, and in hot weather almost unbearable.

The Custom House was a crazy old wooden building on the site of the present Shortland Street Post Office. Nearly opposite the Bank of New South Wales had its offices, close to the Commercial Hotel.

The newly-established Bank of New Zealand occupied a small building near the present Brunswick Buildings. The Union Bank of Australia was the first to transact business in New Zealand, and had just erected the fine building it still occupies. The General Post Office was a shabby one-storey shack in Princes Street on the site of the present Museum. The local rate of postage was 2d. per half-ounce, and on English letters 6d. per half-ounce. The latter rate was increased towards the end of 1864 to 1/- if sent via Southampton or 1/4 via Marseilles.

Newspapers were free of postage, on the prinfciple that anything which made the Colony better known to the outside world was a public service. When in the early part of 1865 they were subjected to a postage of one penny much indignation was expended in the public press. It was looked upon as a retrograde step, and an infringement of the vested rights of journalists. There was, I think, no telegraphic communication beyond Drury, except for purely military purposes. There was a large public house known as "The Greyhound" on the site of what is now John Court's drapery shop. At the back of this a livery stable was carried on for many years. At the corner of Queen Street and Victoria Street West a congeries of shabby

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wooden buildings served as the public gaol and the Supreme Courthouse. The site on the corner of Shortland Street, where the offices of the South British Insurance Company now stand, was occupied by a wooden building where a Mr. Mark Sommerville carried on a grocery business. This was always known as "Sommerville's Corner," and the distances on the mile-posts between Auckland and Drury were all computed from this point. The site of the present Victoria Arcade Building was occupied by a number of small and shabby business premises. A long jetty known as Wynyard Pier ran out from the end of Short Street. This was reserved principally for the use of boats from men-o'-war in harbour. It was also used by pleasure boats and those belonging to members of the Boating Clubs, and was a very favourite promenade for all and sundry.

The suburbs of the town were very limited, a few picked sites in Ponsonby were occupied by business men-- but most of the district was covered with manuka. Newton was about the limit of close settlement on that side of the town. Parnell was the residing place of the official class, the old missionary families, and married military officers. Many an old cottage there has been the abode of men who afterwards made honoured names in the service. As Auckland was at this time the Seat of Government the official class was a numerous one. The principal Government buildings were in Waterloo Quadrant. The Parliament House was the building at the back of the Supreme Court, which in more recent years served to house the University College and has recently been demolished by the City Council in connection with the formation of Anzac Avenue.

There were no public conveyances in those days, with the exception of a bus service to Onehunga, owned by H. Hardington, having its headquarters at the Greyhound Hotel livery stables. The first venture of this description was made by Wm. Crowther, who afterwards entered Parliament and proved himself a sturdy and fearless critic. He

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started a Parnell service with a two-wheeled vehicle which he called an Albert Car. If I remember rightly it was drawn by one horse and carried about half-a-dozen passengers. The only route to Parnell was via Shortland Street and Alten Road--a very severe one for horse traffic. Those who did not walk came to town on horseback. Practically all the doctors rode round to their patients. These were not the days of specialists, and medical men were General Practitioners in the broadest sense of the term. A story went the rounds that one day an overworked and well-known doctor of the old school had had a very busy morning. About midday hunger reminded him that he had had no breakfast--he was too busy to leave off work--but remembering he had a few biscuits in his coat pocket he took some out to satisfy his hunger. They had become very broken and were mixed with small bones. The devoted doctor picked out and ate the fragments of biscuit and returned the bones to his pocket. He was a skilful and enthusiastic surgeon. These were the bones of an amputated finger which possessed some point of clinical interest. The story was told me by a brother medico, who assured me he had witnessed the occurrence. I forbear to mention names.

The war virtually put a stop to settlement for two or three years. I remember towards the end of 1863 seeing settlers coming into town in drays from abandoned farms with such of their belongings as they had been able to carry away piled up around them.

It seems to me, looking back over all the years, that people drink much less alcohol nowadays. At the earlier period there were many more public houses in and around Auckland than there are to-day. The principal one was the Auckland Hotel, kept by a Mr. A. Vialou. It occupied the site of the present Ellison Chambers and extended through to High Street. It was customary then to conclude a business deal with a drink. The consumption of imported liquor, on the wharf, must have been considerable. It was quite usual

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to see Customs employees and other persons who worked amongst the shipping, walking up the wharf, at the end of the day in a manner which left no doubt that they had imbibed all that they were able to carry. Much the same state of things prevailed in the cellars of wine and spirit merchants. I have, when travelling on the coast, seen men in high positions, whose sobriety would not be questioned, consume at every meal, breakfast included, a quantity of liquor that in these days would hardly fail to excite comment. The modern taste for whisky and soda had not become popular. Of course all drink was much cheaper then than now. There was no duty on locally brewed beer, and Customs duties on wines and spirits were light as compared with to-day.

In this connection it is interesting to recall that Customs duty, other than that on alcoholic liquors and tobacco, and a few other items, was levied on the cubic contents of the package. The rate was 4/-, afterwards raised to 5/-, per cubic foot. It will readily be understood that the discrepancies on an ad valorem basis were amazing. A crate of crockery, worth perhaps £10, would pay about £5, whereas a case of drapery measuring half as much, and worth perhaps £100, would pay £2 10s. The duty on spirits was raised at the end of 1864 to 15/- per gallon, tobacco to 2/6 per pound, tea and sugar were each taxed one penny per pound.

There was no Income or Land Tax, nor were there any Death Duties. A cheque or a receipt, or a deed of any kind, required no stamp. There was practically no public debt, and when a loan of £3,000,000 became necessary to finance the war the colonists had serious misgivings at the magnitude of the debt the country was incurring. A curious and interesting contrast to the present day, when our ruling autocrat tells us that he will need, before Parliament meets again, another five millions to carry on with for a few months.

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It is difficult to realise that at the time of which I write the ubiquitous sparrow was unknown in New Zealand. There were no starlings, blackbirds, or thrushes, or, indeed, any kind of English birds. Frogs had not been introduced. The trout was, of course, a much later importation. A few rabbits were liberated in the neighbourhood of Foveaux Straits about this time. The honour, if such it be, of introducing them is, I believe, due to a Dr. Menzies, a Southland settler.

The weasel, stoat and mongoose were introduced later on to kill the rabbits.

What is still more interesting is the fact that blight of all kinds was practically unknown. For some years it was perfectly easy to grow cherries, peaches, apples and pears anywhere around the town with no special care, and free from blight of any kind. Every Maori settlement had an abundance of peaches. A peach stone dropped into the ground bore fruit bountifully in three years. The Irish potato blight, now universal, was unknown until less than twenty years ago.

The Maoris were the sole purveyors of peaches in those days. They brought them from their settlements around the Hauraki Gulf in canoes or half-decked sailing boats, packed them in flax kits, which held from thirty to seventy peaches, and hawked them around the town at a shilling a kit. They used to bring their canoes into Mechanics' Bay, which then formed part of the harbour, in front of the Maori Hostelry. They did a brisk trade in fruit, kumeras, pumpkins and pigs. It was not unusual to see as many as thirty canoes there tied to stakes driven into the muddy bottom. The Maoris also supplied nearly all the fish that came into town. Schnapper was almost the only kind procurable. It was carried around at "one herring" a shilling a bundle. A bundle contained anything from three to half-a-dozen or more according to supply and size.

It was a matter of frequent comment that the Maoris were allowed free and unrestricted access to the town

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during the war. There was, of course, no guarantee that they were not in communication with those in arms against us. All traffic with them in lead, gun powder, or firearms was strictly prohibited.

I remember an occasion when a professional conjurer visited Auckland. He bought a kit of peaches, and, breaking one in half before the Maoris, withdrew half-a-crown from its interior. It was their first experience of sleight-of-hand tricks, and they handed him a peach from another kit to experiment with. The same result followed. Then they tried several peaches themselves, and were puzzled that they met with no success. For some little time, however, they hesitated to part with their stock of peaches.

There were many fine specimens of Maori manhood who used to come into town a little later on, such men as Te Monanui, Rewi, and Paora, of Orakei. The principal of caste was part of their system, and it must be admitted that the splendid physique and fine bearing of their chiefs seemed to encourage a belief in an aristocracy of birth.

Such men wore beautiful mats and often carried an ancient stone mere as a mark of rank. They had no need, however, to parade their authority. Their natural dignity and the influence of their presence amongst their people were enough. Bishop Selwyn is said to have once remarked that for a specimen of nature's gentleman he wanted nothing better than a Maori chief of the olden school. Such men were always richly tatooed, not alone on the face, but on the breech and thigh. The painful operation, which was performed at the age of puberty, must have been a great test of endurance. Before the advent of Europeans they had fewer diseases than after. Their teeth were always perfect, and longevity appears to have been the rule.

It is curious to recall the dependence we had to place upon imported food in the sixties of last century. At an earlier period the Maoris in the Waikato country grew a considerable quantity of wheat, part of which they ground

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into flour for their own use in small stone mills driven by water power. The early settlers around the Epsom district also grew a limited quantity. A certain amount was even available for export to Melbourne at the outbreak of the rush for gold ten years earlier. There was a windmill at Epsom, the tower of which, overgrown with ivy, still remains. There was also a stone building used as a flour mill, on the site of the Herald Printing Works in Wyndham Street, which belonged to a Mr. Snodgrass. The great building in Queen Street, erected by Messrs. Thornton, Smith and Firth, depended almost entirely upon imported grain. It is pleasant to see that the fine windmill in Symonds Street, built by the father of the present owner, still remains as the most picturesque landmark of our city. It would, I think, be impossible to find another in Australasia.

At the period we are considering there was very little wheat grown in any other part of New Zealand. Our supplies of breadstuffs, mostly in the shape of flour, came from Valpariso or Adelaide, chiefly, I think, from the American port. Flour fluctuated a good deal in price, owing to the uncertain passages of sailing vessels. The normal price was about £15 to £20 per ton, but I remember on one occasion seeing the town placarded with the announcement that a cargo, just arrived from Valpariso, was being offered by Messrs. John Roberton and Co., at £30 per ton.

Eggs were imported from Sydney. They came in casks packed in salt. Butter came from Woolongong in New South Wales. A considerable quantity was even imported from Ireland. This came in wooden firkins secured with wooden hoops. Bacon, too, was largely imported from Ireland. Hay and oats for commissariat use were sent out from Scotland by the Home Government. Cheese also figured largely in our list of imports, as very little was produced in the country. Subsequently for a good many years the Akaroa Peninsula was our principal source of supply. Sheep came principally from Napier. The S.S. Beautiful

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Star, Corio, and Star of the South were employed in the carrying trade. Practically all the beef required for military use came from Port Gladstone in Queensland. The cattle were brought over in sailing vessels and were sometimes discharged into the harbour at Taurarua (Judge's Bay). As may be supposed with animals reared on large stations and confined for a good many days on board ship, they were pretty wild when they reached the shore. I have seen some exciting drives as they were mustered on the beach and driven along what is now Gladstone Road--then an unformed track--a sea of mud in wet weather.

Fresh milk was a somewhat scarce commodity. The United States at the time had a practical monopoly of the supply of preserved milk. The same remark applied to cornflour, which in those days was called by Americans, possibly with literal correctness, corn starch.

There was no system of State education. Each denomination had its own schools. I recall the Church of England Grammar School at Parnell. The Wesleyans also had a school in Parnell, carried on by a Mr. Singer. There was also a private school in town owned by a Mr. Gorrie.

The large building in Upper Queen Street, now owned by the Salvation Army, then known as Prince Albert College, belonged to the Wesleyans. This, and the Parnell Grammar School, were the principal schools for many years, and provided education for a generation of Auckland boys, a few of whom are still in our midst. It is worthy of passing note that I cannot recall the name of a boy from either school who afterwards made any conspicuous mark in public life.

Towards the end of 1863 a whirlwind passed over the harbour, without doing any damage to shipping. It caused considerable havoc, however, in its course up the main Parnell Road. Several shop verandahs were swept away. Sheets of galvanised iron and heavy pieces of timber were carried high into the air. The front of the brick house then,

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as now, known as "Hulme Court," was badly damaged, and a large sash and door factory on the top of Parnell, owned by David Hunter and Son, was razed to the ground.

The Hunters were much respected. Their factory had only just been erected and the loss to them was very serious. In those days, when everybody seemed to know everybody else, I think there was a more general all-round feeling of friendliness. A subscription list to help the Hunters was started, and it is interesting to recall that it was headed by Bishop Selwyn, Bishop Patteson, and Sir Wm. Martin, with £25 apiece. Bishop Selwyn also lent £100 for three years free of interest. It may be noted that he was not a wealthy man, and his income as a bishop was a very modest one.

The whirlwind either changed its course at this point, or its force was spent, as no further damage took place. It may be a trick of memory, but looking back it seems to me that storms were more common, and of greater severity then than in more recent years.


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