GEORGE AUGUSTUS
SELWYN
PIONEER BISHOP OF NEW ZEALAND
BF.RKELOUW
WQKDEALER8
ovnucv
GEORGE AUGUSTUS SELWYN,
D.D.
BISHOP SELWYN.
George Augustus Selwyn,
D.D.
v
PIONEER BISHOP OF NEW ZEALAND
F. \V. BORE HAM
WITH TWENTY-THREE ILLUSTRATIONS AND PORTRAITS
TLonOon
S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO., LTD.,
OLD BAILEY.
TO
MY FATHER
AND
MY MOTHER
STACK ANNEX
PREFACE
IT was my happy privilege, on leaving College, to
minister for some twelve years to a New Zealand
congregation. In moving about that spacious
Dominion I had ample opportunities of observing the
supreme veneration in which the people of those
romantic islands have enshrined the illustrious
memory of Bishop Selwyn. From the North Cape
to the Bluff there are thousands whose tongues
become instantly garrulous in grateful reminiscence
at the mere mention of his name. His vigorous hand
is on the country still. His episcopate was indisput-
ably the most wholesome of all those formative
influences which gave tone to the infant nation in
those critical days when the foundations of its
character were being laid. In view of this impressive
experience, it has been a very pleasant and congenial
undertaking to pen some words that may help to
perpetuate and extend the knowledge of his heroic
record. The generation that can catch his spirit will
precipitate the conquest of the ages.
I hasten to acknowledge my obligations to " The
Life and Episcopate of G. A. Selwyn, D.D.," by the
Rev. Prebendary H. W. Tucker, M. A. ; to " The Life
S
2201657
Preface
of Bishop Selwyn," by the Rev. Canon G. H. Curteis,
M.A. ; to " The History of the Melanesian Mission/'
by Mrs. E. S. Armstrong ; as well as to the Hon. W.
Pember Reeves, Dr. T. M. Hocken, F.L.S., and
Captain F. W. Hutton, F.R.S., for their numerous
contributions to the literature of early New Zealand.
I have also been assisted by the files oi the Weekly
Graphic (N.Z.), and, generally, by the excellent press
of the Dominion.
FRANK WM. BOREHAM.
HOBART, TASMANIA.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A MAN IN THE MAKING, . . . . . . g
II. THE LAND OF THE MOA AND THE MAORI, . . 29
III. ON THE LONE BUSH TRACK, 48
IV. THE GARDEN IN THE WILDERNKSS, ... 74
V. l;Y BATTLE-FIELD AND BIVOUAC, .... 95
VI. CORAL REEFS AND CANNIBAL ISLANDS, . . .US
VII. THE CALL TO THE HOME-LAND, .... 140
.t.
7
GEORGE AUGUSTUS SELWYN, D.D.
CHAPTER I
A MAN IN THE MAKING
" Give us Men !
Strong and stalwart one*.*
Men whom highest hope inspires,
Men whom purest honour fires,
Men who trample self beneath them,
Men who make their country wreath them
As her noble sons,
Worthy of their sires,
Men who never shame their mothers,
Men who never fail their brothers,
True, however false are others,
Give us Men ! I say again
Give us Men !"
BISHOP BlCKERSTETH.
THE nineteenth century opened to the strains of
martial music. Europe shuddered beneath the
tramp of armies. The horror of an alien force land-
ing on British shores paralysed the imagination of
England. And yet, in one memorable year, lying
midway between Trafalgar and Waterloo, there took
place an invasion more remarkable than any of which
Napoleon ever dreamed. For in 1809 there stole into
the world a host of remarkable babies. Mr. Gladstone
was born at Liverpool ; Alfred Tennyson was wel-
comed at the Somersby Rectory ; and Oliver Wendell
Holmes made his first appearance at Massachusetts.
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
On the very self-same day of that fateful year, Charles
Darwin made his debut at Shrewsbury, and Abraham
Lincoln drew his first breath at old Kentucky. Music
was enriched by the advent of Frederic Chopin at
Warsaw, and ,of Felix Mendelssohn at Hamburg.
Within the year, too, Samuel Morley was born at
Homerton, Edward Fitzgerald at Woodbridge, Eliza-
beth Barrett Browning at Durham, and Frances
Kemble in London.
If there is any justification for the pretty old legend
that blazing portents in the skies invariably herald
the births of conquerors and of heroes, then our
astronomers should have strange tales to tell concern-
ing the celestial apparitions of 1809.
But this brilliant cradle-roll is not yet complete.
For, in those stirring days, there lived in the
picturesque old thoroughfare known as Church Row,
at Hampstead, an eminent solicitor named William
Selwyn. He had already achieved distinction as a
specialist in his profession, and his published contribu-
tions to learned literature were always quoted with
confidence and always heard with respect. When,
nearly thirty years afterwards, the youthful Queen
Victoria announced her intention of being united in
marriage to Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, it
was decided to appoint William Selwyn " to instruct
Prince Albert in the Constitution and Laws of his
adopted country." At the time of his death, in 1855,
Mr. Selwyn was the Senior Queen's Counsel at the
English Bar. It was into the favourable atmosphere
of this cultured Hampstead home that George
Augustus Selwyn was born on the 5th of April, 1809.
He entered the world, as we have seen, in distinguished
company. He was born in a district dear to the heart
of every Londoner. The old row, with the ivy-covered
church not far off, possessed a thousand and one subtle
suggestions of a stately past. And if there is any real
philosophy in Heine's famous dictum, that "a man
10
A Man in the Making
should be very careful in the selection of his parents,"
then George Selwyn displayed in his very nativity
that perspicacity which, in his after life, never once
failed him.
His mother a daughter of Mr. Roger Kynaston, of
Witham, Essex was a woman of rare devotion and
of a singularly winsome spirit. She was, however, a
pitiful sufferer, not the least of her sorrows being the
extreme depression and melancholy into which her
painful malady submerged her. In these periods of
gloom and misery, George had a peculiar influence
over her. To her consolation he, even as a child,
consecrated the best of his time and talents. Her
spirit, crushed and drooping, seemed to inhale the
buoyancy and elasticity of his. He alone could rouse
and cheer her. Many a half-holiday, when his
companions were off to the fields with their bats or
their sledges, George spent by his frail mother's
couch. After his departure for New Zealand, poor
Mrs. Selwyn would steal in silence to a spot beneath
his portrait, where her soul would breathe out to God
her evening devotions, and it was here that she was
found unconscious at last, dying a few hours after-
wards on the first anniversary of her son's consecra-
tion.
George was the life of the home. There were six
children four boys and two girls among whom he
was quite easily the leader. Whenever the fun waxed
most furious in the Ha-mpstead nursery, it was
invariably George who was showing.the way into new
avenues of merriment or of mischief. In every romp
his figure was in the forefront, and his laughter rang
the loudest. He inherited from his father, too, a
passionate love of all outdoor exercises. For is it not
written in the annals of Eton that William Selwyn
had carried his bat in the school eleven ?
And yet, side by side with this buoyant and
boisterous exuberance, there was a strange seriousness
ii
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
of demeanour about his bearing that rendered him
peculiarly engaging and attractive to his seniors.
Even as a lad, he breathed upon the whole home a
strangely charming and gracious influence. "He was
truly the family friend and counsellor," his sister tells
us, " ever ready to help in all difficulties. If any case
of distress was mentioned in his hearing, his pocket
money was at once devoted to its relief."
An unwonted heaviness brooded over the home at
Church Row on that memorable day in 1816, when
George, then at the age of seven, set out, in company
with William, for a preparatory school at Ealing.
Here the lads found themselves thrown into the
company of about three hundred other boys, among
whom were another distinguished pair of brothers
John Henry Newman (afterwards Cardinal) and F. W.
Newman (afterwards Professor of Classics in the
University of London). On his return home for the
holidays, George horrified his sisters by displaying,
among other accomplishments, a thorough acquaint-
ance with the Racing Calendar, and a skilful
proficiency in dancing! Nothing could have been
more characteristic or prophetic. We shall repeatedly
have cause to admire the facility with which he
mastered every subject that offered itself to his eager
and hungry mind. And in the playground at Ealing
he innocently absorbed all that was to be known on
subjects with which his comrades were familiar. That
no taint had adhered to his free and open spirit is
clear. For in the same letter in which his sister tells
of these surprising acquisitions, she says : " There was
nothing that was pious, noble, self-denying, and
generous, that my brother did not exhibit in his daily
life, and as years drew on he was more than ever
constant in prayer, never ceasing in the service of his
heavenly Master."
From Ealing, George passed on to Eton, where his
athletic figure and alert mind soon created their
12
A Man in the Making
inevitable impression upon his companions at the
great school. Two of these Mr. Gladstone and
Bishop Abraham have borne eloquent witness to the
magnetic influence which Selwyn exerted at Eton.
Bishop Abraham, who was afterwards associated
with Selwyn in New Zealand, contributed to the Eton
College Chronicle this characteristic anecdote : " We
belonged," he says, " to the pre-scientific period, as
regards athleticism as well as studies. In Selwyn's
long-boat there were seven oars not very good, and
one superlatively bad. The boys used to run up town
as hard as they could to Bob Tollady's, and seize
upon one of the seven moderately bad ones, and the
last comer got the ' punt-pole.' Of course, he was
sulky all the way up to Surly Hall ; and the other
seven abused him for not pulling his own weight.
Everyone was out of temper. So George Selwyn
determined always to come last. The other fellows
chaffed him ; but he used to laugh, and at last said :
' It's worth my while taking the bad oar ; I used to
pull the weight of the sulky fellow who had it ; now
you are all in good-humour.' The incident illustrates
his whole after life. He always took the labouring oar
in everything"
After taking the boat to the shed, he would often
strip and plunge into the river before returning. For
he was as much at home in the water as on it. He
could swim like a fish and dive like a duck. For
many years a certain bush at Eton, standing high on
the bank of the Thames, was known as " Selwyn's
bush." " To this," we are told, " he used to run, take
a spring, and go over it head foremost at a certain
angle, coming up to the surface almost immediately.
When asked how to do it, he used to say : ' Fancy
yourself a dart, and you will do it with ease ! ' "
He little suspected, in those happy, careless days,
that he was practising arts, and acquiring powers
that would be simply invaluable to him, amidst
13
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
strangely different conditions, in years to come. It
would be an easy task to record his triumphs in
academic realms, for in the class-rooms at Eton it was
usually taken for granted that Selwyn would be found
in the place of honour. But his prowess in running,
and jumping, and rowing, and diving must also be
carefully observed. It is impossible to exaggerate the
importance of the place which these occupied in the
strenuous days of hardship and adventure that
followed.
In the same way, he was surely guided by some
shrewd and prophetic instinct, in view of the unknown
privations that awaited him across the seas, in cultivat-
ing with peculiar persistence a fine contempt for easy
and luxurious living. They are very few of whom it
could be said more truly than of him that they endured
hardness as good soldiers of Jesus Christ. And to
graduate in that stern school he deliberately set him-
self, even in boyhood. When, years afterwards, all
England applauded his heroic endurance on inhospit-
able islands, his relatives found intense pleasure in
recalling trivial incidents of early days by which he
had demonstrated his disdain of soft living. On one
occasion, for example, he had asked his mother for
permission to invite his schoolfellow, William Ewart
Gladstone, to stay with him as his guest for the
Easter-tide holidays. But Easter means spring, and
spring means spring-cleaning ; and the house was in
the turmoil of domestic revolution. His mother
pointed to the dismantled apartments, and told him
that it was impossible ; a guest would be sadly in the
way, and would feel himself to be so. George
bounded upstairs, and soon reappeared, dragging a
great mattress, which he flung upon the wet boards,
saying triumphantly: "There now, where's the
difficulty?"
The education which had been commenced at
Ealing, and continued at Eton, was completed at
A Man in the Making
Cambridge. At the age of eighteen he entered
St. John's College, of which he was afterwards a fellow.
His first impressions of university life were not
altogether favourable. School life had been to him
something in the nature of a frolic ; and the gravity
of his new environment oppressed him. But with
those phenomenal powers of adjustment, which all
through life stood him in such good stead, he swiftly
made friends with his more sombre surroundings, and
discovered that the new conditions had their
compensations. "After awhile," he wrote, "the
absence of the many distractions of Eton rather
recommended the place to me, as one where
lost time might, in some measure, be made up."
He applied himself with avidity to the main business
of university life, and the great day of the year, both
with him and with his brother, was that on which
they welcomed their proud parents to Cambridge to
witness the public acknowledgment of their scholastic
successes. With great fidelity and regularity, William
Selwyn and his delicate wife made these annual
pilgrimages to Cambridge. They were doubtless a
source of profound gratification to the fond parents
themselves. They certainly afforded unbounded
delight to their student sons ; and, long afterwards,
in the wild solitudes of the New Zealand bush, in the
cabin of his schooner, or on the lonely shore of some
tropical isle, a smile would play upon the sunburnt
and weather-beaten countenance of Selwyn, as he
told Sir William Martin, or " Coley " Patteson, of the
immense delight he had derived from those happy
visits.
In 1829, Oxford challenged Cambridge to a contest
for supremacy upon the river. Cambridge snatched
up the gauntlet with alacrity, and set herself to the
selection of her crew. The name of George Selwyn
sprang to every lip. And so it came to pass that,
always a pioneer, he took a prominent part in the
15
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
very first of those great inter-university contests,
which have ever since occupied so large a place in the
world of athletics.
At Cambridge he cast about him the same pure
and wholesome moral atmosphere which had
distinguished him in the playgrounds, and by the
water-courses of Eton. Both at school and at college,
it was freely affirmed that " no fellow would dare to
use bad language if Selwyn were within earshot." A
look, which eloquently expressed a subtle combination
of pity and contempt, would often wither the offender,
who would slink off feeling heartily ashamed oi
himself.
In aspiring to classical honours, Selwyn felt him-
self to be particularly vulnerable in the matter of
mathematics; and in his day a place in the
mathematical tripos was an essential qualification
for classical distinction. He set himself with a will
to conquer his pet aversion, and so far succeeded that
he gave to his mind an entirely new bent, a circum-
stance of which it took magnificent advantage in
connection with the delicate and accurate computations
which he required of it in the explorations and
navigations of later years. He went up for his
classical tripos in 1831. In the result, Benjamin Hall
Kennedy, who afterwards became headmaster of
Shrewsbury, and, later still, Regius Professor of Greek
at Cambridge, was found to have headed the list ;
but in the second place, and with a very narrow
margin of excellence intervening between first and
second, stood the name of George Augustus Selwyn.
It has often been said that, if Cuthbert Collingwood
had been born into any other age of British history
than that which was assigned him, he would have
been one of the most beloved and most admired of
British admirals. As it is, he was overshadowed by
the superior genius and irresistible fascination of
Jioratio Nelson. Selwyn shared a similar fate. He
16
A Man in the Making
chanced to enter for his coveted distinction in the
same year with one whose name was soon applauded
throughout the world as a synonym for the ripest and
most exact scholarship. But for this fact the achieve-
ment of Selwyn would have been recorded among
the mosv splendid triumphs in the Cambridge annals.
As it is, it was " a famous victory," A Fellowship at
St. John's followed. And then a new turn in the tide
of events led him, soon after, to take farewell of
university life, and search for fresh fields to conquer.
It happened that, on returning from Cambridge at
the end of the term, he discovered, with a pang, that
his parents had been driven to a radical policy of
domestic retrenchment, and had dispensed, among
other things, with their horses and carriage. Always
keenly sensitive to the sorrows of others, he lost no
time in revealing his alarm and inquiring for the
reasons that had necessitated so great a change. His
father was unable to conceal the fact that the expense
of maintaining four sons at Eton and at Cambridge
had so drained his resources as to demand imperatively
the immediate sacrifice of all luxuries. George felt
as David felt when his three mighty men brought
him, at the hazard of their lives, the water from the
well of Bethlehem for which he had longed. It was
secured at too great a cost, and " he would not drink
of it but poured it out upon the ground." So the
brilliant Cambridge student of 1831 felt that he could
no longer quaff the waters of knowledge if they could
only be obtained by so great a sacrifice on the part of
those whom he loved with all the ardour of his soul.
He therefore determined at the first convenient
opportunity to search for remunerative employment.
He took his degree in the early days of 1831.
He then spent a few weeks in foreign travel. And in
May of the same year, shortly after his twenty-second
birthday, he returned to Eton in the capacity of
private tutor to the sons of the Earl of Powis. To
2 17
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
those acquainted with the history and traditions of
that noble house, no testimonial to Selwyn's manly
qualities and academic attainments could be more
impressive than this one fact. His new style of life
afforded him opportunities for the development of
qualities which, during the stress of severe study,
had lain dormant. He had leisure ; and none better
understood how to invest it. The river was still his
favourite resort ; and his manipulation of his oars
rendered him the idol of the Eton boys of that
generation. His expert knowledge of their craft
rendered him immensely popular, too, with the water-
men on the river, who were for ever singing his
praises as a swimmer and an oarsman. Recognising
the hold that this hero-worship had established,
Selwyn turned it to the best account by labouring
among them with a view to their moral and spiritual
well-being.
Moreover, he was able to avail himself of his reputa-
tion as the champion of the river as a means of placing
the pastime, so far as the school was concerned, on a
much more secure foundation. Down to this time the
Eton authorities had prohibited the boys from rowing.
But, in such conditions, it is much more easy to frame
such a regulation than to enforce it. The inevitable
consequence was, that the prohibition was honoured
more in its breach than in its observance ; and the
authorities were compelled to wink at the laxity with
which the mandate was regarded. Such a state of
things was creditable neither to the boys who defied
their superiors nor to the masters who were unable to
insist upon respect being shown to their own enact-
ment. It was in these circumstances that Selwyn
intervened. As a result of his representations, the
law was repealed. It was ordained that any boy who
had passed in swimming might indulge in rowing.
By this arrangement oarsmanship received a new glory.
It became an honourable distinction instead of a
18
A Man in the Making
furtive and surreptitious pursuit ; whilst the condition
by which it was guarded gave to the boys a powerful
incentive to aspire to aquatic proficiency.
Nor was this the only respect in which, during his
residence at Eton, he successfully discharged the lofty
but exacting office of a peacemaker. He was able on
several occasions to mediate between the boys and
the existing powers. And on every occasion his tact,
his courtesy, and his experience constituted them-
selves a sure guarantee of the happiest -issue of his
negotiations.
But his new appointment carried with it a fuller
introduction to social life ; and here also he found
abundant opportunities for the exercise of the same
exalted faculty. For, during the period of Selwyn's
service under Lord Powis, England was torn by the
bitterest political dissensions. It was a time of crisis
almost approaching to revolution ; a time when all
the institutions and machinery of national life were
being overhauled and reviewed ; a time, in short,
when the very best of men, differing sharply in opinion
as to the true solution of the problems involved, found
it impossible to approach the discussion of those
momentous issues without being led from abstract
principles into personal animosities. In those riotous
days of noisy tumult and violent debate, when many
a man's hand was raised against his brother, George
Selwyn found and embraced countless opportunities
of reconciling those who, in the heat and excitement
of public controversy, had ruthlessly outraged old and
sacred friendships. Sometimes, in the delicious cool
of a lovely summer's evening, on the quiet banks of
the tranquil river ; sometimes strolling among the
noble oaks in the Great Park at Windsor ; some-
times in a secluded corner of a crowded drawing-
room, or in the leafy recesses of its adjacent con-
servatory, the minister of peace prosecuted his lovely
work. But wherever he did it, he did it well ; and
19
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
many there were who afterwards recalled his gracious
service with profound gratitude and admiration.
During his sojourn at Eton, Selwyn indulged in a
new form of athletic exercise, of a character peculiarly
profitable, in view of the nature of the work to which
he subsequently devoted his life. Indeed, if it were
not established upon indisputable evidence that his
call to colonial work came upon him as a great and
amazing surprise, it would be impossible to resist the
conclusion that he was deliberately training himself
for the tasks that lay before him. Having provided
himself with a pocket-compass, he formed the habit of
taking prodigious walks, finding his way by its help
from village to village, and from point to point. A
ploughed field he would take at a brisk run, "to
improve his wind."
In following the hounds on one notable occasion
he allowed his horse to lag some distance behind
many of the leading riders, and was afterwards a
little nettled by the banter to which he was subjected
concerning the ignominious position he had occupied
in the field. He straightway hired horses, and
selecting some church steeple as his goal, rode
furiously at it, clearing every obstacle that presented
itself on his way to that destination. By these wild
" steeple chases " his intrepidity as an equestrian was
soon placed beyond all doubt ; and for the rest of his
life he was held in the highest esteem as a most
competent and fearless horseman.
It is easy to see how, all unconsciously, these
singular recreations were fitting him for the severe
tests that awaited him. Many a time, in groping his
way through strange waters, or amidst the dense and
trackless bush, he must have recalled with peculiar
satisfaction his long cross-country walks, compass in
hand, in England. And many a time, when he had
no alternative but to set out on some long ride in New
Zealand, mounted on the most vicious animal in the
20
BISHOP SELWYN AT THE TIME OF HIS CONSECRATION
From a Painting by Sir W. B. Richmond
21
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
country, he must have been grateful for the apprentice-
ship to which he submitted himself by his daring feats
of horsemanship at Eton.
He maintained, too, his old prowess as a swimmer
and diver. Indeed, he became President of a some-
what fantastic organisation known as the Psychrolutic
Club. It consisted of two classes of members
Philolutes and Psychrolutes. The former bathed
with more or less regularity, and under such condi-
tions as were agreeable to them. The latter, on the
other hand, were those who had, during one whole
year, bathed on at least five days of every week
summer and winter. Selwyn's habit of taking a
regular daily swim secured for him the Presidency
from an admiring and devoted membership ; and it
was at his hands, in the river, that the coveted degree
was conferred whenever a mere philolute had qualified
for psychrolutic distinction.
It must not, however, be supposed for a single
moment that, by all these exuberant recreations,
George Selwyn was developing but one side of his
manhood. The very reverse was the case. There
was never a man of more perfect balance. He was,
in the best sense of the term, a great all-round man.
His work with his pupils enabled him to maintain his
intellectual faculties at the high standard to which he
had brought them at Cambridge. And, above and
beneath all this, George Selwyn was a man of deep
and intense spirituality. Exactly when, and exactly
where, the first impressions of this kind were made
upon him, it is not easy to say. But it is not difficult
to guess. He was, as a boy, the constant companion
of his mother ; and to those who can rightly appraise
the influence of such a companionship, that one fact
will explain all that needs to be accounted for.
Throughout his whole life he was remarkable for his
intimate and exact knowledge of the Scriptures. An
astonishingly appropriate passage would leap to his lips
22
A Man in the Making
on every occasion. On the eve of his departure for New
Zealand, for example, he gave his brother, Canon
Selwyn, a Bible, on the fly-leaf of which he had
written : " Ready to depart on the morrow" On
saying good-bye to the Rev. E. Coleridge, he wrote in
his friend's Bible : " When we had taken our leave
one of another, we took ship, and they returned home
again." And even when the moisture of death was
on his brow, he thought of his widowed and lonely son
in distant Melanesia, and murmured : " The blessing
of his father shall be upon the head of him who is
separate from his brethren."
Whenever he was approached on this matter, he
always attributed his familiarity with his Bible to the
early teaching of his mother. She contrived and con-
trolled this essential part of his education with such
shrewd tact, such spiritual insight, and such consum-
mate skill, that when he left Hampstead for Ealing he
not only knew his Bible thoroughly, but loved it with
a sincere and abiding devotion. He had not only
mastered the letter, but caught the spirit, of that
sublime study. It is altogether impossible to
exaggerate the importance, as an essential element in
the formation of his character, of those early conversa-
tions between mother and son. It was as a direct
result of that hallowed intercourse that he was able to
present to the critical mind of Eton boyhood a living
embodiment of a purity that never even threatened
to become priggish, and of an inflexible justice which
was perfectly consistent with an exuberant and
rollicking jollity. By some subtle power of perception,
everybody was made to feel that Selwyn's hearty
laugh was part and parcel of Selwyn's holy life.
Moreover, it was as the natural outcome of those
sacred and gracious impressions received by his
mother's couch, that he became fired with that
apostolic passion and dauntless devotion which
subsequently impelled him, in spite of apparently
23
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
insuperable obstacles, to the uttermost ends of the
earth. When home on holiday from Ealing, from
Eton, from Cambridge, and, later on, from Eton again,
he regarded his hour with his mother as an inviolable
engagement. They read together, sometimes from
the Old Testament, and sometimes from the New,
he frequently translating to her from the original
languages.
In 1833 he determined to seek ordination as a
deacon, and this impressive service was conducted at
St. George's, Hanover Square, by the Bishop of
Carlisle, on Trinity Sunday, June 9th. Precisely a
year later he received " priest's orders " at the same
place, and from the same hands. After having
officiated in a voluntary capacity as curate-in-charge
at Boveney, he undertook to act as curate to the Vicar
of Windsor, the Rev. Isaac Gossett, at a stipend of
per annum.
He could do nothing by halves, and he threw
himself into the work of the district with an energy
that almost alarmed his parishioners. He had
already undertaken, as a voluntary worker, prior to
his appointment to the curacy, to supply an evening
service at the parish church. This step, which had
been long desired, was accordingly keenly appre-
ciated ; and its success, combined with the assiduous
and indefatigable attentions which he lavished upon
his people, quickly won for him a very wide
popularity and a very deep affection.
In 1834, death robbed him of his brother Thomas,
and another near relative was drowned in Maidenhead
Weir. It may be that these personal acquaintanceships
with grief imparted to his nature an added tenderness
and a deeper element of sympathy. Certain it is that
he greatly endeared himself to the people of Windsor
by the felicity and charm with which he fortified
them in the day of trouble, and soothed their sorrows
in the hour of loss. " If," wrote a correspondent to
24
A Man in the Making
the Guardian, " if there were any misunderstanding
among friends, he would not rest until they were
reconciled ; if pecuniary difficulty fell upon anyone,
he would make every endeavour to extricate him ; if
his friends were ill, he was their nurse and companion ;
if they lost relations, or fell under any great sorrow,
he was with them at any hour to console and uphold
them. He was the friend, the adviser, the comforter
of all who would admit him to their confidence/' It
is not strange that, under a ministry at once so tire-
less and so tender, the work of the parish felt the
throb of a new impulse, and entered upon a fresh
phase of prosperity. The Vicar rejoiced unfeignedly
in the new order of things, and allowed his enterpris-
ing young curate a perfectly free hand. " It is all
Selwyn's doing," he would say, when his people
commented on the transformation ; " he is the moving
spring here."
When Selwyn settled at Windsor, he was strongly
urged to avoid Beer Lane, a squalid neighbourhood
in which the scum of the district herded together. A
place with so evil a reputation had, however, a special
charm for the new curate, and he made his way
towards it. On entering the lane, a stalwart ruffian
approached him, and loudly ordered him out of the
thoroughfare. Selwyn quietly pressed on his way.
The bully thereupon threw off his coat, and, assuming
a pugilistic attitude, flourished his fists in the face of
the curate, and again brawled out his demand. In
a fVish, Selwyn aimed at his braggart assailant a blow
which sent him sprawling on his back on the pave-
ment. The bystanders applauded tumultuously ; the
bully hastened away in consternation ; and the
curate's visits to Beer Lane were ever after received
with the utmost respect.
But perhaps the most characteristic incident in
connection with his ministry at Windsor was a speech
which he delivered on the unpromising subject of
25
George Augustus Selwyn. D.D.
parochial finance. The parish was in debt to the
alarming extent of about ^3000. The position
became so acute that a special vestry meeting was
summoned. Litigation, had been threatened, and
there were those who counselled a policy of resist-
ance. It was at this stage that the curate spoke, and
gave to the matter an entirely new complexion. He
demonstrated most clearly that the amount was really
owing, and must be honourably discharged. He
appealed to his hearers to regard the debt as a
challenge, and to rise bravely to meet it. To prove
that he was not indulging in vapid heroics, he offered
to contribute one-tenth of the entire sum himself, by
refusing to accept any stipend for the next two years.
Such a call was irresistible, and within a month the
parish was entirely free of all pecuniary obligations.
It was the first time in Selwyn's life, but it was not
the last, that he entirely cut from under his feet all
visible means of support.
The year 1838 his thirtieth constitutes itself an
important and eventful one in the life of George
Selwyn. It was the year of Queen Victoria's
coronation. In the early part of that year Selwyn
made his name prominent in connection with two
absorbing matters of ecclesiastical controversy.
The one was the question of Cathedral Reform,
which filled the newspapers and occupied all minds.
The other was a proposal for the consolidation
and combination of the work of several of the
great Church publishing and missionary Societies.
On these thorny topics he wrote extensively, and
shared the fate of all reformers. He was ridiculed as
an impracticable idealist and visionary. Those who
laughed at him then little dreamed that, within a very
few years, he would have the opportunity, in a great
diocese of his own, of submitting his theories to the
crucial test of experience, and that their vindication
would there be so complete as to justify their
26
A Man in the Making
adoption in the Homeland on a more magnificent
scale !
But that thirtieth year of his had a vital interest
of its own, quite apart from all parochial labours and
public controversies. For, in November of that year,
he announced to his friends that Miss Sarah
Richardson, the daughter of Sir John Richardson, a
Judge in Her Majesty's Court of Common Pleas, had
consented to become his wife. Sir John Richardson
had a pleasant country residence known as " The
Filberts," near Bray. It was no small undertaking
for George Selwyn to negotiate the land and water
that intervened between Eton and Bray, as often as
his heart 'dictated its desirability. And concerning
the ardour of Selwyn's courtship, the Rev. Pre-
bendary H. W. Tucker tells a famous story.
" On a certain night," he says, " Mr. Selwyn was
returning to Eton at an hour much later than those
kept by the ferrymen. There was no difficulty in his
punting himself across ; but then what of the owner
of the punt in the morning? What of the early
passengers coming perhaps to their work, if the
Windsor curate had appropriated the punt at the
midnight hour ? Was there no way of combining late
hours at ' The Filberts' with the rights and comforts
of the ferryman and his passengers? It was part of
his nature always to have unselfish thoughts for
others ; and the present difficulty was solved in a way
that cost him less effort than would have been the
case with most men. A modern Leander, he punted
himself across the river, and then, having undressed,
ferried himself back, made the boat fast, and swam
back to his clothes ; thus gratifying himself and caus-
ing no inconvenience to others." Years afterwards,
in his wild and romantic episcopate beneath the
Southern Cross, seated on a fallen tree, beside a
crackling camp-fire in the bush, one of his favourite
Maoris told him, in his lovely liquid tones, the
27
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
graceful native legend of the radiant Hinemoa, and of
how, for the love she bore to the noble Tutanekai, she
swam at dead of night across the moonlit waters of
Lake Rotorua, guided by the lute of her lover. Did
Selwyn's mind fly back, we wonder, as he listened to
the story, across the oceans and across the years, to
his own midnight escapades upon the Thames ?
George Augustus Selwyn was married to Sarah
Richardson on 25th June, 1839. Little did the curate's
bride dream of what was involved in the " I will " that
she pronounced that day ! Mr. William Selwyn, Q.C.,
who, a year later, was appointed Treasurer of Lincoln's
Inn, laid aside for awhile the onerous responsibilities
of his professional career, and took his son's position
as a private tutor at Eton. The happy pair were thus
enabled to indulge in the luxury of a wedding tour.
By his marriage, George Selwyn automatically
vacated his Fellowship at St. John's, Cambridge,
which had been worth to him about ,140 per annum.
He had already heroically renounced his stipend as
curate of Windsor for the space of two years. At the
time of his wedding he was, therefore, wholly
dependent upon his private earnings, which were both
slender and precarious. And he had no reason to
anticipate anything, in the unknown future, beyond a
possible preferment to a quiet rural parsonage. We
shall have ample opportunities of satisfying ourselves,
as we follow his animated career, that George Selwyn
was absolutely one of the most disinterested, and yet
one of the most severely practical, men that ever
breathed.
CHAPTER II
THE LAND OF THE MOA AND THE MAORI
" I arrive where an unknown earth is under my feet ;
I arrive where a new sky is above me ;
I arrive at this land, a resting-place for me.
O Spirit of the Earth ! the stranger humbly offers his heart to
Thee ! "
OLD MAORI SONG.
A \ 7"E shall not be so negligent of the common
* * courtesies of life as to accompany Mr. and
Mrs. Selwyn on their honeymoon, but, leaving them
to their felicity, we shall take an imaginary tour of a
very different kind. It is to a land so far away across
the seas that the simplest way of visiting it, having in
view the exigencies of ocean currents and trade winds,
is to make a complete circle of the earth, going out by
way of the Cape of Good Hope, and returning by way
of Cape Horn. New Zealand consists in reality of a
group of islands, the total area of which is only very
slightly smaller than that of the United Kingdom.
It was discovered by Abel Tasman in 1642, but only
the most transitory interest was taken in the country,
until the historic and adventurous voyages of Captain
Cook opened up the conception of new empires to the
imagination of the old world. It is truly a realm of
wonder, this Pacific group to which we have so swiftly
flown. We step ashore, and astonishing revelations
unfold themselves. We are in a land of luxurious
vegetation and of broad and fertile plains ; a land of
sky-piercing mountains, thickly covered with eternal
29
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
snows ; a land of rushing rivers and of thundering
cataracts ; a land of boiling springs and of icy glaciers ;
a land of silvern sounds and of burning volcanoes ;
a land of mossy dells and of fern-clad valleys ; a land
of hills and dales, draped with evergreens of all tints
and shades, picked out with brilliant patches of
colour and a glorious profusion of bloom. Here are
grouped, in strange proximity, the marvels of which
many nations boast. We find here the sunny skies
of Italy, and the great blue lakes of Switzerland ; the
snow-capped heights of Asia, and the prairies of the
Far West ; the hissing geysers of Iceland, and the
lovely fjords of Norway. Here from daybreak till
twilight a new choir of feathered songsters maintains
a constant carnival of melody. And then, at dusk,
strange constellations globe themselves into the dome
above our heads, until the whole vault is bespangled
with glowing jewels ranged round the Southern Cross.
Everything around us strikes us as being extravagant,
prodigal, prolific, profuse. Nature lets herself go.
There is no sense of restraint. Giant trees and tiny
saplings, matted thickets and climbing creepers,
twisting vines and impudent parasites all intertwine,
and interweave, and intertangle themselves in the
most glorious confusion of green. Beneath your feet,
ferns and mosses carpet every inch of soil ; overhead,
trees growing upon trees, layer upon layer, each
weighing the other down by the burden of this bewil-
dering tangle of vegetation, greet your eye everywhere
as you explore these novel phases of forestry. The
traveller stands amazed at the teeming and fantastic
forms of life on every side.
Moreover, Nature has shown her kindness to this
land, not merely in the superabundance of her favours,
but in the judicious selection of her gifts. Just
across the sea, on the broad Australian continent, and
on the tight little island of Tasmania, the bush, though
not so dense a jungle as is this, is rendered perilous
30
The Land of the Moa and the Maori
by the presence of carnivorous beasts and of deadly
serpents. But into this Paradise no wolfish eyes
have ever peered. Upon these swinging boughs no
hideous snake has ever twined himself. Both in her
givings and in her withholdings Nature has betrayed
a singular favouritism towards this happy land. It is
not strange that British subjects in this most remote
outpost of empire invariably speak of their island
home with manifest pride, and with sincere affection.
They know why the wandering imagination of the
dying Selwyn could find no lovelier glades through
which to ramble than those bush solitudes which, in
better days, he had loved so well. Even the sadness
of farewell in New Zealand is tempered for those
who remain, by their unwavering conviction that the
prodigal, overborne by fond recollections of the lovely
land he is leaving, will quickly tire of other climes
and return to his earlier love.
The tourist who visits this southern wonderland to-
day finds there a great nation. He whirls from city
to city in fast expresses ; or, preferring to travel by
coastal steamer, lounges in sumptuously furnished
saloons. In each city he discovers handsome streets,
stately architecture, bustling commerce, imposing in-
stitutions, first-class newspapers, electric tramcars, and
a perfect network of telephones. He misses no com-
fort ; he is asked to deny himself no luxury to which
he has been accustomed in London or in Edinburgh.
Everywhere he witnesses the signs of immense in-
dustries. He sees great and busy factories ; he glides
in and out of ports crowded with shipping ; he
observes, as he hurries through the country, that the
far-stretching plains are covered with heavy crops ;
he notices that the most rugged hills are dotted with
sheep ; and, even in the bush country, the curling
columns of smoke, rising from among the trees, tell
him of smiling homesteads and of prosperous coun-
tries. He finds that, in this new land, about a million
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
souls of his own kith and kin have made their home ;
whilst, every week, steamers from the " old country "
pour their hundreds of immigrants into the Dominion.
He observes, too and perhaps this surprises him
most of all that, so far from having lost their national
spirit, these colonists display, if possible, an even more
ardent patriotism than that to which he has been
accustomed. The very first news to which they turn
in the paper is to the cablegrams from the Homeland.
The birthdays of the King and of the Prince of
Wales are celebrated as public holidays, all shops
being closed and the day abandoned to appropriate
festivities. And, when Great Britain became em-
broiled in hostilities in South Africa, the stalwart sons
of this young nation trooped forth in their thousands
that they, in their regiments of rough-riders, might
take their places beside the historic battalions that
fought at Agincourt, Blenheim, and Waterloo.
But, although only a few years have intervened, it
is a far cry from the New Zealand of to-day to the
New Zealand of 1840. The settlers then were few
and far between. They consisted principally of
whalers, attracted by the abundance of their huge
game for which these seas were famed, supplemented
by a handful of immigrants who had drifted across
from the Australian mainland. To all intents and
purposes the land was still in the undisturbed
possession of the Maori; and as it is with him that
much of our time must be spent, it may be well if,
without delay, we seek a formal introduction.
The Maori is a bundle of contradictions. Of all
aboriginal peoples he is quite easily the most
attractive and the most interesting. For ages he was
at once the most ferociously savage and, in many re-
spects, the most highly cultured of all the dark races.
The men are tall and stalwart, of sinewy frame and
handsome bearing. The women are comely and
graceful, of shapely form and pleasing face. And these
32
33
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
exterior charms are but the natural reflection of a
certain beauty and refinement in the very soul of the
race. For the Maori is a born poet. The spirit of
romance stirs in his blood. His folklore is a perfect
fairyland of fascination. His myths, legends, and
traditions abound in stories of exquisite pathos and
beauty. His love-stories are as chaste and as graceful
as anything in Western literature. The twinkling
stars, the crystalline lakes, the snow-capped heights,
the beetling cliffs along his rugged coast, and the
scarped crags of his romantic valleys, have all been
woven into these charming fancies. Ask a Maori, for
instance, how it comes about that his land is a place
of smoking mountains and of boiling springs, and he
will tell you that, once upon a time, there came to this
country, from the wonderful isle of Hawaiki, our great
chief and magician, Ngatoro. He brought with him
his favourite slave, and they landed from their canoe
on the shores of the Bay of Plenty. Pressing inland,
they cut a way for themselves through the bush,
guiding their course by the stars, until they descried
against the skyline the snowy summit of Mount
Tongariro. When they reached the mountain, they
determined to make the ascent. But as they mounted
higher and still higher, the intense cold numbed every
limb, and at last the poor slave lay in the snow,
paralysed, and sick unto death. Turning towards the
sea, Ngatoro shouted to his sisters to bring fire. His
cry reached them in their home across the ocean, and,
snatching up a bowl of fire, they hastened to his
relief. Wherever, in the course of their pilgrimage,
they halted, geysers sprang up through the sand.
Wherever sparks or ashes fell from the bowl, hot
springs or hissing steam-jets burst through the fern.
When at last they reached Ngatoro, they found to
their dismay that they had come too late ; the slave
was dead. In his wrath, Ngatoro seized the burning
bowl and hurled it at Mount Tongariro. And, from
34
The Land of the Moa and the Maori
that day to this, the mountains of Taupo have
smouldered with volcanic fires, which sometimes
slumber, and sometimes break out in terrific and
destructive eruption.
Yet, incongruously enough, side by side with this
lofty strain of poetry and romance were to be found
the most revolting and persistent savagery. When
Tasman, on first discerning the land, ventured to
effect a landing, the natives celebrated their intro-
duction to pale faces by killing and eating as many
as they could capture. The intrepid Dutchman
named the spot " Massacre Bay," and sailed gloomily
away, not at all proud of his latest discovery. More
than a century later, Marion du Fresne, a French
navigator, was, with sixteen members of his crew,
brutally butchered and made the victims of a cannibal
orgy. Ship after ship shared the same horrible fate.
These sickening stories soon became the property
of mariners all the world over, and in every cabin
and forecastle on the high seas, the natives of New
Zealand were discussed with terror as the most
atrocious and bloodthirsty monsters on the face of
the earth. For more than a century captains kept
a wary eye upon the skyline for the first glimpse of
the New Zealand coast, and, on its appearance,
ordered boarding-nets to be immediately lowered
to prevent the dreaded savages from coming to close
quarters.
Nor must it be supposed that the Maori was
displaying towards the white men a ferocity to which
he was ordinarily a stranger. For ages the soil of
New Zealand was literally drenched in blood as a
result of his furious and devastating tribal feuds.
And the captives, taken in these pitiless campaigns,
were invariably devoured by their conquerors.
All this makes gruesome reading, but the facts
need to be kept steadily in mind, as a dark back-
ground to the picture which we seek to paint, if we
35
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
would duly appreciate, and accurately appraise, the
work of those fearless pioneers of the Gospel of
Christ, who led this wild and barbarous people into
the emancipating light of the kingdom of God.
But as, in negotiating a tunnel, we plunge from
daylight into darkness only to emerge as suddenly
into the sunshine again, so here a brighter gleam
claims our attention. It is a strange study in light
and shade. For the Maori may justly claim to be
ranked alongside the most enterprising pathfinders
of our modern civilisation. The records of his daring
voyages would have stirred the blood of Sir Francis
Drake, and kindled the admiration of Sir Walter
Raleigh. Long before our own hardy navigators
had fired the imagination of the world with visions
of Western empires and Southern continents, these
dauntless explorers, in large and shapely canoes,
capable of accommodating and provisioning 150 men,
had found their way across the immense spaces of
the southern oceans. Long before the Vikings of
the North had turned their frowning figure-heads
seawards, these Vikings of the South had completed
voyages as wonderful as any in the history of the
world. From island to island, and from continent to
continent, they groped their way, deterred neither by
the equatorial fervours of the tropics, nor by the
biting snowstorms of the south, until the vast
Pacific could withhold no secret from them. Through
" the long wash of Australasian seas," on across the
silent waste of waters, steering their course among
volcanic isles and coral reefs, they made their way to
the great American continent. Monuments of these
early voyages have been found along the coasts of
Chili and Peru ; up the banks of the Rio Negro, a
great river of Patagonia, which discharges its waters
into the Atlantic ; and even up the slopes of the
Andes, and on the great plains of Argentina.
One other word remains to be said by way of
36
The Land of the Moa and the Maori
introduction to this most attractive people. But
that word is the saddest word of all. For, even at
the time of which we write, the Maoris were a dying
race. This fact is worth noting. The decay of
aboriginal peoples has been so often, and in some
cases so justly, attributed to their contact with
civilisation, that it is well to recall the fact that, in
the case of the Maori, the mournful process 01
disintegration had asserted itself before the white
man landed on his shores. This lamentable condition
had been reached owing to two main causes. The
cradle of the race the fabled Hawaiki has been
lost in obscurity, but it is certain that the pilgrim
fathers of the Maori people had come from a much
more genial latitude ; and the later generations were
slow in adjusting themselves to the more rigorous
climatic conditions. The early discoverers found
that consumption and kindred diseases were even in
their time working fearful havoc among the tribes.
In 1790 a devastating epidemic swept over the
country, demanding heavy toll at every settle-
ment.
The other main cause of their persistent tendency
to extinction lay in the terrific and depopulating
nature of those sanguinary feuds to which reference
has already been made. It cannot be wondered at
that a people, who can never have been particularly
numerous, should have been swiftly decimated and
diminished by a policy of slaughter so relentless and
unceasing. The real marvel, on the other hand, must
surely be that a race, disfigured by instincts of such
incorrigible brutality.should, under the spell ofChristian
influences, have laid aside so quickly the hideous
customs to which it had been so long addicted, and
that, within the lifetime of a single generation, many
of the sons and daughters of that ferocious people
should have distinguished themselves in all depart-
ments of scholarship, and in all the arts of peace.
37
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
This must forever rank among the real wonders of the
world.
History abounds in amazing coincidences ; and this
history is no exception to the rule. During those
very years, in the course of which George Selwyn was
being equipped for his life's great destiny, strange
movements were afoot at the other end of the world.
The whole attitude of public thought and of official
policy towards that remarkable land which we have
just visited underwent a complete and radical change
within the brief period represented by Selwyn's child-
hood and youth. Whilst, on the one hand, the sower was
being taught and trained, and whilst his seed-basket
was being stored with precious grain, the distant
field, in which he was to fling that seed broadcast,
was being simultaneously ploughed and harrowed, and
prepared for his early coming.
When Selwyn was born, the average Englishman,
if he had heard of New Zealand at all, thought of it
as an insignificant cannibal island somewhere in the
wide Pacific, and felt no inclination for a closer
acquaintance. Very excellent people shuddered at
the mention of its name. In 1814 Selwyn being a
boy of five, and making the old nursery at Hamp-
stead echo with his merry peals of laughter His
Majesty's Ministers of State became so dubious of the
wisdom of Captain Cook in planting the Union Jack
on these frightful shores that they gravely repudiated
the annexation, and formally disowned the territory.
It was not long, however, before the tidings of strange
happenings on those far-off islands led the authorities
to retrace their steps.
For in 1809 the very year of Selwyn's birth the
first missionary had landed in New Zealand. And
he, strangely enough, was a Maori boy. It happened
that the Rev. Samuel Marsden, a chaplain near
Sydney, had heard the thrilling stories that the
sailors told of the extraordinary people on the islands
38
The Land of the Moa and the Maori
across the Tasman Sea. He became possessed of an
irresistible desire to secure their evangelisation ; and,
in the course of a visit to England, he pleaded with
the Church Missionary Society to turn its thoughts to
so heroic an enterprise. His eloquence was so
persuasive, and his arguments so convincing, that the
Society immediately committed itself to the under-
taking. On the ship on which he returned to Sydney,
Mr. Marsden was surprised to discover a young Maori
sailor named Tuatara ; and in him the zealous
evangelist recognised a sublime opportunity. At
every leisure moment he sought out the dark-skinned
sailor-lad, told him the wonderful story of the Gospels ;
and pleaded with him with such success that Tuatara
promised to hurry back to his own people and reveal
to them the story of redeeming love. He kept his
word. The Maori chiefs sat with open eyes and open
mouths as Tuatara described to them the astonishing
sights that met his gaze in the white man's country.
The Maoris looked at each other incredulously. He
told them how the white man sowed his crop, and
ground his corn, and made his bread. Then they
rose in derisive laughter and refused to believe a
word. But Tuatara had prudently provided himself
with a tiny bag of wheat and a coffee-mill. The
sceptical natives stood around the little plot whilst
Tuatara prepared his soil and sowed his seed. They
nudged each other, tapped their heads, and exchanged
significant glances. Much travel, they evidently
thought, had wrecked poor Tuatara's brain, or brought
him under the witchery of an evil spirit. But when
there appeared first the blade, and then the ear, and
then the full corn in the ear, the fashion of their
countenances changed. They crowded round, and
watched Tuatara grind his corn in his coffee-mill.
And they ate, with wonder, of his bread. For awhile
they listened with more respect to that still more
wonderful story of which Tuatara loved to speak.
39
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
But the young evangelist spoiled it all by telling one
wild and impossible tale which his brethren could
never believe. Over the sea, he said, the white man
had an animal a thousand times as big as a rat, and
the white man sat upon its back and made it bear him,
and harnessed it to his heavy burdens and made it drag
them. They awoke the echoes of the hills with their
laughter as they derided this ridiculous story. But
when, some years after, they saw Mr. Marsden ride
his horse upon the beach, they remembered Tuatara's
words. The vindication of all his statements power-
fully inclined the minds of his people towards the
missionaries. He was a forerunner ; and, like another
forerunner, it was said of him : " He did no miracle,
but all things that he spake were true."
Then, in 1814 the year in which George Selwyn
had celebrated his fifth birthday, and in which the
British Government had solemnly abandoned its claim
upon New Zealand territory Mr. Marsden himself
arrived. And it was on Christmas Day of that
memorable year memorable for the shortsightedness
of British statesmanship in repudiating the land on
behalf of Britain, and memorable for the farseeing
sagacity of the Christian missionary in claiming the
land on behalf of Christ that the first service was
held. How proudly Tuatara made all the preliminary
arrangements, prepared the pulpit, and acted as
interpreter. That first service was conducted, on
that glorious midsummer day, beneath a cloudless
sky. There were present three scarred old .chiefs,
attired in all the glory of some old uniforms which
had found their way out from England. Swords
dangled by their sides, and they held native switches
in their hands. " I stood up," says Mr. Marsden,
"and began by singing the Old Hundredth Psalm,
while my soul melted within me as I looked round at
the people and thought of their state. It was
Christmas Day, and my text was in every way
40
The Land of the Moa and the Maori
appropriate to the situation : ' Behold, I bring you
glad tidings of great joy !'" Mr. Marsden repeatedly
visited New Zealand during the following years, and
greatly endeared himself to his native hearers.
When, in 1838, he came for the last time, accompanied
by his daughter, the Maoris carried the old man he
was then seventy-two from place to place through
the bush in a hammock supported on their shoulders.
THE OLD CHURCH AT REMUERA, BUILT BY BISHOP SELWYN
After bidding them a pathetic farewell, he returned
to Sydney, where he shortly afterwards died. That
was only a few months before Selwyn's marriage.
But by this time the people of England had
awakened to the fact that they had enormously
underestimated the value of those islands, of which
they had spoken so flippantly. Thoughtful men
rubbed their eyes in amazement, as it dawned upon
them that the coral reefs of their earlier fancy were, in
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
reality, a group of islands almost as large as those on
which they were themselves living. The stories of
sea-captains, and the letters of missionaries and of
whalers, gave an entirely new impression of the
extraordinary magnificence and amazing fertility of
this distant land. The British Government was
brought to a better state of mind; and in 1833 it
determined to appoint a British resident to be
stationed in New Zealand.
At about the time of Selwyn's wedding New
Zealand absorbed a vast amount of public attention.
The members of Her Majesty's Cabinet never met at
Westminster, and the great dignitaries of the Church
never assembled at Lambeth, but the engrossing
claims of New Zealand pressed themselves import-
unately upon their consfderation. At length, in 1841,
the Archbishops and Bishops " declared it to be their
duty to undertake the charge of the Fund for the
endowment of Colonial Bishoprics, and to become
responsible for its application." They immediately
made out a list of those colonies which they regarded
as in most urgent need of episcopal appointments.
And at the very top of the list, compiled in order of
urgency, stood the name of New Zealand. In view of
the fact that New Zealand was one of the youngest
of British dependencies, this prominence is impressive.
It reflects the conviction, that was rapidly growing
upon the popular mind, that this new country, away
in southern seas, was a land of splendid promise and
magnificent possibilities. It was therefore decided
to appoint without delay a pioneer Bishop of New
Zealand.
But the man ! Whom should they send ? So
much depended upon that decision. One member of
the Committee of the Church Society of New Zealand
had been conspicuous on account of the intense
interest he had displayed in these distant islands.
Upon him the choice fell, and the call was accordingly
42
The Land of the Moa and the Maori
addressed to William Selwyn, George's elder brother.
Upon mature consideration he felt it his duty to
decline the appointment, and afterwards earned for
himself a high reputation as the Lady Margaret
Professor of Divinity. By some happy thought or
shall we say by some providential instinct? some-
one suggested that perhaps they had chosen the right
family, but the wrong brother. The thought of the
vigorous young Windsor curate made a powerful
appeal to every mind ; and it was instantly resolved
to invite the Reverend George Augustus Selwyn to
become the first Bishop of New Zealand.
Selwyn's attitude towards the call may be easily
stated. He was descended from distinguished military
ancestors, and all the instincts of a soldier stirred
within his veins. It was often said of him in New
Zealand that he was " a General spoiled." He held
strongly all through life that a clergyman should be
absolutely at the disposal of his ecclesiastical
superiors. Like Newman, his old schoolfellow, he
hated to be consulted, and loved to be commanded.
It is impossible to appreciate either the spirit in
which he went to New Zealand, or the motives
from which nearly thirty years later he left it, unless
this peculiarity be clearly grasped. He found that it
was the sincere wish of the Bishops that he should
go ; and he felt that no option remained to him.
Vexatious delays followed. Oddly enough, the
real cause of these irritating procrastinations was, that
the Government then in power, as well as its pre-
decessors in office, entertained grave doubts as to Mr.
Selwyn's fitness for the position. It is singular that
whilst, in 1814, one Government should have doubted
the value of the land, another, in 1841, should
have entertained similar apprehensions as to the
fitness of the man. Both New Zealand and George
Selwyn have amply vindicated themselves since then.
As the Times, in reviewing the situation years after-
43
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
wards, pointed out, he was emphatically and pre-
eminently the man, "A Christian, yet a man of the
world ; a scholar, yet an athlete ; first and foremost
in all the tests of English skill and courage ; wise and
witty as well ; with a word, a look, and a deed for
everybody ; holding his own, yet denying to no one
else that privilege ; it was by a happy venture that he
was chosen at the age of thirty-two to found a see at
the Antipodes, when the people he had to convert
were still fresh from banquets on the flesh of their
murdered fellow men."
In drawing up the Letters Patent, the Crown
solicitors made a number of unhappy blunders, the
correction of which absorbed a deal of precious time.
One astounding and egregious mistake, however, they
made which has become historic. Selwyn instantly
noticed it, but whispered not a word. The new see
should of course have been defined as lying between
the 34th and 5<Dth degrees of south latitude. But
the clerk, his mind intent on stating accurately the
northern and southern limits of the new episcopate,
declared that the territory lay between the 34th
degree of north latitude and the 5oth degree south !
According to this geographical definition, New
Zealand may be said to extend its inordinate length
across the whole Western hemisphere ! Selwyn saw,
however, that this broad and Catholic interpretation of
his duties would afford him the coveted opportunity
of visiting and evangelising the scattered islands of
the Pacific. He therefore smiled up his sleeve, and
kept his own counsel.
At last the Ministers of State decided to content
themselves with the selection of their ecclesiastical
brethren ; the Queen approved the nomination ;
Selwyn in so many words accepted" the appoint-
ment ; and the Crown solicitors had, so far as they
knew, drafted with accuracy the tiresome official
documents.
44
The Land of the Moa and the Maori
With all his wonted sprightliness and energy,
Selwyn then threw himself into the work of preparing
for his daring enterprise. " I remember," says his sister,
"sitting up half the night helping him to make a
waterproof belt for his watch and pedometer. He
meant to swim the rivers, pushing his clothes in front
of him. He was wonderfully skilful in providing for
his intended New Zealand life." One of the first
orders that he gave was for the construction of a
church tent, a tabernacle which, folded within
moderate compass, he could take with him, and, im-
mediately on his arrival, erect as the first " Cathedral " of
his island see. In all these preparations, Mrs. Selwyn
also worked with a will. Most cordially had she
adopted the New Zealand project as her own as well
as her husband's. In relation to her, however, Selwyn
remarked to a friend that he could never have brought
himself to accept the call, but for the fact that Sir
John Richardson had recently breathed his last.
" For," he asked, " how could I have taken away that
old man's daughter?"
Before his consecration Bishop Selwyn asked the
Society for the Propagation of the Gospel to entrust
him with an annual grant for the purpose of endow-
ment, in preference to giving annual salaries for
clergymen. " What I most of all deprecate," he
said, "is the continuance of annual salaries, which
leave a church always in the same dependent state
as at first, and lay upon the Society a continually
increasing burden." During the next ten years
S.P.G. grants for endowment alone amounted to
^7000.
His Consecration Service now began to occupy all
his thoughts, and a profound and touching gravity
pervaded his spirit whenever his mind recurred to this
impressive event. It was conducted by the Arch-
bishop of Canterbury, at Lambeth Chapel, on i/th
October, 1841, the Bishop of Barbados preaching the
45
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
sermon. The chapel was uncomfortably crowded,
many of his own friends being unable to secure
admission.
Nine days later another imposing ceremony took
place, this time at Cambridge. The young Bishop
went down to his old university to receive his degree
as a Doctor of Divinity. " When he knelt down before
the Vice-Chancellor," the record runs, " it was a noble
sight ! Dr. Turton, the Regius Professor of Divinity,
made an admirable speech in Latin, alluding to
Constantine, to the missionary labours of England, to
the Bishop's own zeal, to his high qualifications, and
to the fine prospects before him." Cambridge spared
no effort that day to prove that the university was
proud of her valiant and distinguished son. Oxford
followed suit by conferring a similar degree, and his
investiture on that occasion was scarcely less
enthusiastic or impressive.
The next few weeks were naturally monopolised by
a long series of private and semi-public farewells.
During these last days in England, he spent as much
time with his parents and sisters as he could possibly
steal from these valedictory engagements. Some of
these functions were of exceptional interest and
significance, as testifying to the lofty place which
Selwyn commanded in the esteem of the greatest and
the wisest men. Here, for example, we find him the
central figure of a dinner-party assembled in his
honour. It is being held in the house of his old friend,
Mr. Edward Coleridge. Among the guests it is easy
to recognise Mr. Gladstone and Mr. (afterwards Lord
Chief Justice) Coleridge. Yonder, too, sit two other
occupants of judicial benches in the persons of Mr.
Justice Patteson and Mr. Justice Cotton. And at
least three future bishops are here Archdeacon
Wilberforce (who later on became Bishop, first of
Oxford, and then of Winchester) ; Mr. Durnford,
afterwards Bishop of Chichester ; and Mr. Chapman,
46
The Land of the Moa and the Maori
who, four years later, became the first Bishop of
Colombo.
The farewell service at Windsor was one which no
one present ever forgot. The parish church was
crowded to the very doors. The youthful prelate
preached from the prophetic and triumphant words :
" The abundance of the sea shall be converted unto
Thee ; the forces also of the Gentiles shall come unto
Thee." The people who, to the end of life, cherished
every memory of their young minister with a personal
and tender regard, leaned forward in strained and
breathless silence, as he outlined his ambitions amidst
the strange and savage scenes towards which he was
turning his face. And when he said that, having
successfully established a vigorous and aggressive
Church on those distant shores, he would be content
to die there neglected and forgotten, tears trickled
down all faces, and the pent-up emotions of his devoted
hearers found expression in audible, though stifled,
sobs.
Farewells are trying ordeals, especially to natures as
sensitive and transparent as those of the Bishop and
Mrs. Selwyn. The last few weeks in England were a
painful experience for both of them, and it was with
a sigh, almost of relief, that they reached the last of
those exacting days. Berths had been secured on
board the Tomatin, bound for Auckland via Sydney;
and when the last fond look had been given, the last
broken word spoken, and the last hand wrung, the
Bishop and his wife took their places on board. A
few weary days including Christmas Day were
spent in idly waiting for a wind. And then, on 26th
December, 1841, a favourable breeze sprang up, the
Tomatin stood out to sea, and in a few hours the
watchers at Plymouth could but faintly descry the
white sails of the vanishing ship, like the fluttering
wings of a small sea-bird, on the wide and watery
horizon.
47
CHAPTER III
ON THE LONE BUSH TRACK
" Far, far off the daybreak calls hark ! how loud and clear
I hear it wind !
Swift to the head of the army ! Swift ! spring to your places,
Pioneers ! O Pioneers ! "
WALT WHITMAN.
"\ X 7"ITH characteristic ingenuity and activity, Bishop
* * Selwyn reached his destination rather more
than three weeks before the ship on which he set
sail. A voyage from Plymouth to Auckland was,
in those days, a tedious ordeal for even the most
lethargic passenger ; but, with the Bishop's restless
impatience to get to work, it was simply intolerable.
Many of us, in this twentieth century of ours, have
raced to and fro between England and New Zealand,
completing the long journey, on our palatial ocean
liners, in five or six weeks. But seventy years ago
the good ship Tomatin took six months to reach her
haven. She left Plymouth Sound, as we have seen,
in December, 1841, and she cast anchor in Auckland
harbour on 24th June, 1842. She had, however,
reached Sydney on I4th April ; but in moving up to
her anchorage in that port she had unfortunately
taken the ground, with the result that she was
doomed to remain idle for some time, undergoing
repairs. The Bishop, in strolling about the busy
wharves, discovered a small brig the Bristolian
about to sail for Auckland. He therefore decided to
leave Mrs, Selwyn and some members of his party
48
On the Lone Bush Track
to come on by the Tomatin, whilst he and others
transhipped to the Bristolian. In this way he
contrived to land in New Zealand nearly a month
before the Tomatin was sighted off the coast.
But we should make a grave mistake if we
supposed that those months, spent in the motionless
calm of tropical seas, or in tumbling through tumul-
tuous gales about the Cape, were wasted in indolence.
In the first place, the party was a large one, and
could easily provide itself with abundant avenues of
profitable entertainment. It included, besides the
Bishop, Mrs. Selwyn and her baby boy, the Rev.
C. L. Reay, of C.M.S., together with four clergymen
(Messrs. Cotton, Whytehead, Cole, and Dudley), three
catechists (Messrs. Butt, Evans, and Nihill), and
a schoolmaster and mistress, all of whom the funds
placed at the Bishop's disposal by S.P.G. enabled
him to take with him. The Rev. B. L. Watson also
was travelling on the Tomatin, bound for Australia.
Dr. Selwyn's alert mind, always hungry for infor-
mation, and quick to scent even the most unpromising
sources from which it might be obtained, swiftly
discovered the means of acquiring proficiency in two
arts, which proved simply invaluable to him on his
arrival in New Zealand. And he applied himself to
their mastery with such diligence and success that,
when at last the Tomatin dropped her anchor, the
Bishop could speak the Maori language with almost
faultless fluency, and was a perfect expert in the
science of navigation. The latter he had, of course,
gathered from his intercourse with the captain of the
ship. And, for the former, he had found a capable
instructor in young Rupai, a Maori lad, who, by a
fortunate providence, happened to be a passenger by
the same vessel. The Bishop sought him out, gleaned
from him the Maori word for this object and for that
action, reduced his answers to a system, and at length
lound himself able to hold prolonged conversations
4 49
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
with his young instructor in the native tongue.
When the Tomatin, after her long voyage, was pushing
her way up the harbour at Sydney, a number of
Maoris passed in a small boat under the bow of the
vessel. Their astonishment may be imagined when
the Bishop leaned over the bulwarks of the ship and
shouted his greetings to them in their own language.
It was on a glorious moonlight night that the
Bishop, standing on the deck of the Bristolian,
caught the first glimpse of his diocese. Just before
midnight, on Friday, 27th May, the " Three Kings "
displayed their rocky headlands against the horizon.
The spectacle greatly impressed him. " God grant,"
he wrote in his diary, " that I may never depart from
the resolutions which I then formed, but by His
grace be strengthened to devote myself more and
more earnestly to the work to which He has called
me ! " At daybreak next morning the mainland of
the North Island his future home stood out boldly
on the skyline. At midnight, on Sunday, the moon
again transfiguring both sea and land, the Bristolian
cast her anchor at the mouth of Auckland's beautiful
harbour. " Every outward ' circumstance," says the
Bishop, " agreed with our inward feelings of thankful-
ness and joy." As soon as the first faint streaks of
daybreak appeared in the eastern sky, the Bishop was
astir. In a few moments a boat, which he had
purchased in Sydney, was lowered from the brig,
and, plying his oars with a will, the Bishop had the
satisfaction, before sunrise, of planting his feet on
New Zealand shores. His chaplain, Mr. Cotton,
bore him company in that early morning expedition,
and was afterwards fond of telling how the Bishop,
overcome by his emotions, threw himself upon his
knees on the sand, and, in the grey light of the dawn,
gave thanks to God for his safe arrival.
The newcomers lost no time in making their way
to the house of Mr. Chief Justice Martin. The good
5
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
man was not yet up, but he was soon dragged from
his bed, and constrained, together with the Attorney-
General, Mr. Swainson, to row back to breakfast on
board. Afterwards, Dr. Selwyn called at Government
House, to pay his respects to Captain Hobson, who
showed him the most cordial hospitality until some
permanent arrangement could be made. When the
Governor had received intelligence from England
that a bishop was about to be appointed to New
Zealand, he flung down the dispatches in amazement,
and exclaimed : " A bishop ! What on earth can a
bishop do in New Zealand where there are no roads
for his coach ? " But when he beheld the recipient of
the surprising appointment he changed his mind.
" Ah ! " he remarked, " that is a very different thing :
this is the right man for the post ! "
On his first Sunday in the new land the Bishop threw
the Maoris into ecstasies of delight by gathering them
together and briefly addressing them in their own
language. They were filled with unbounded astonish-
ment at the advent of the white preacher, who could so
fluently discourse to them in their native tongue.
There can be no doubt that, by this single achievement,
the Bishop completely disarmed their prejudices and
favourably inclined their minds to welcome his
message. It was a master-stroke. On the same day
he addressed himself in English to the settlers and
the members of his own party. One or two sentences
from this "Thanksgiving Sermon " betray the thoughts
that were surging in his mind. " A great change," he
said, " has taken place in the circumstances of our
natural life ; but no change which need affect our
spiritual being. We have come to a land where not
so much as a tree resembles those of our native
country. All visible things are new and strange ; but
the things that are unseen remain the same. The
same Spirit guides and teaches us. The same Church
acknowledges us as her members ; stretches out her
52
On the Lone Bush Track
arms to receive and bless our children, to lay her
hands upon the heads of our youth, to break and bless
the bread of the Eucharist, and to lay our dead in the
grave in peace." His text' on that historic occasion
was marked by that striking appropriateness which
always distinguished his Scriptural quotations : " If I
take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the
uttermost parts of the sea, even there shall Thy hand
lead me, and Thy right hand shall hold me."
Let us glance around at this rude and primitive
civilisation into the midst of which wehave so suddenly
plunged. Our references to Government House, and
to the presence of a Chief Justice and an Attorney-
General, may create a distinctly false impression.
There, then, is the residence of His Excellency,
a hurriedly constructed one-storied wooden
cottage ! Round about it huddle a few even less
pretentious structures. About fifty soldiers are housed
in a wooden barracks over yonder. Here is the rough
old Court House, which also does duty as a church.
This track, leading down into the township, will take
us to a tiny cluster of stores. There are as yet no
roads. The bush is everywhere, and as one looks
down from the hill, the insignificant group of modest
dwellings, which, at this distance, look like mere dolls'-
houses, are lost in the wild and picturesque confusion
of foliage with which, for centuries, Nature has decked
and draped the entire landscape.
Having, in the course of a week or so, thoroughly
acquainted himself with the immediate vicinity, the
Bishop was impatient to explore the country a little
farther afield. It was quite to his taste, therefore,
when Governor Hobson informed him that he was
about to despatch a representative to inquire into a
Maori massacre which had just occurred in the
Thames Valley, and invited him to join the expedition.
As the schooner made her way along the coast, the
Bishop was entranced at the exquisite beauty of the
53
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
scenery which unfolded itself in panoramic splendour
in every direction.
It was with infinite delight, too, that he cultivated
that acquaintance with the native people which he
had made, under such happy auspices, on his first
arrival. Their manner of grouping themselves in
villages or pas, together with all their domestic
arrangements, simply captivated him. His intro-
duction to a Maori pa was an experience which he
was never likely to forget. He found the ordinary
native families living for the most part in whares. A
whare is a strongly constructed hut, ornately carved
and elaborately adorned, thatched with raupo,
and carpeted with mats of native flax. Here and
there several families had established their domestic
economy upon socialistic or co-operative principles,
all living together in a whare-puni, or larger whare.
The advantage of this system was most pronounced
in winter, when all slept together round the wall, with
their feet towards the centre of the floor, where a great
fire was kept blazing all through the night. When-
ever it became necessary to hold a general deliberation,
one of these apartments was transformed, for the
time being, into a kind of Town Hall, and within its
precincts the villagers assembled to discuss their
grievances. The chiefs lived in larger and more
imposing structures. But none of these native dwell-
ings were to be despised. Although, in the nature of
the case, the architecture was but rudimentary, and
the execution primitive, the buildings were erected
with considerable skill, and were wonderfully neat,
weather-proof, and comfortable. The whole group of
whares, whare-punis, and patakas (or storehouses)
was surrounded by a high palisade, from behind the
protection of which the villagers could resist a hostile
visitation from a neighbouring tribe. These fortifica-
tions were constructed on so staunch a pattern, and on
such excellent military principles, that, in the tragic
54
MAORI CHIEF, SHOWING ELABORATE TATTOOING ON FACE
55
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
days of the New Zealand war, the Maoris were often
able to entrench themselves behind these palisades,
and for days at a time hold our trained regiments at
bay. The whole village, with its dwellings, store-
houses, and fortifications, is called a pa ; and as the
Bishop scrutinised its details for the first time,
chatting the while with his native escort, with quiet
dignity and easy grace he made no attempt to disguise
his intense admiration of all that he saw. Moreover,
he found occasion, in the course of his short tour, to
admire the evidence of their integrity as well as the
monuments of their industry, for he discovered that
the houses of the settlers, living in close proximity to
the pas, had not so much as a bolt upon the doors.
Surrounded by natives, the property of the white man
was inviolable.
They found at last the old chief who had been
mainly responsible for the recent massacre. He sat
in solemn state, wrapped in his blanket, and surrounded
by his tribe. After a long palaver he agreed, with
manifest reluctance, to give up the slaves with which
he had enriched himself in the late disturbance, and
to behave himself peaceably in days to come.
Having thus satisfactorily adjusted the matter, the
party set out on their return to Auckland. They
were unavoidably detained, over the Sunday, at a
settlement about twelve miles from headquarters, and
the Bishop turned the delay to the best account by
conducting service in the native language. They
reached Auckland next day, having been absent five
days.
One other journey of importance the Bishop made
whilst waiting for his wife's arrival. After having care-
fully studied a map of the country, and taken counsel
with the Government officials at Auckland, he came
to the conclusion that he ought to make his permanent
home at a village on the Bay of Islands, at which the
Church Missionary Society had already established its
On the Lone Bush Track
principal station. And as it was within the blue
waters of this bay that the Tomatin was expected to
first cast anchor, the most powerful incentives
combined in pointing the Bishop northwards.
Immediately on his return from his first jaunt, there-
fore, he again set sail, and losing no time on the
voyage, safely reached the mission-station. We shall
allow the good missionary's wife to tell the story of his
arrival. Writing to a friend in England, she says :
" Our good Bishop has arrived ! He took us all by
surprise. He had been becalmed off the heads, took
to his boat, and reached this place soon after dark.
W. and H. were soon down at the beach, where they
found the head of our New Zealand Church busily
engaged in assisting to pull up the boat out of the surt.
Such an entree bespoke a man fit for a New Zealand
life. We are all delighted with him ; he seems so
desirous of doing good to the natives, and so full of
plans for the welfare of all."
The Bishop had scarcely settled down to prepare
his future home, and make general arrangements for
the establishment of his headquarters at this spot,
when a messenger rushed to him with the welcome
intelligence that the Tomatin was lying at anchor in
the offing. To continue the letter from which we
have just quoted, the missionary's wife goes on to say :
" The Tomatin has arrived, bringing Mrs. Selwyn and
the rest of his numerous party. We admired him
before, but he has completely won our hearts to-day
by his reception of his wife and family."
It was about ten miles from the landing-place to
the mission-station at Waimate, and in those days
the task of conducting the party, and its necessary
baggage, even that moderate distance was attended
by no small difficulty. At length, however, the settle-
ment was reached. The house of a Mr. Clarke had
been secured as a " Bishopscourt " for the present ;
and it was arranged that Mrs. Selwyn should consider
"57
George Augustus Selvvyn, D.D.
herself a guest at the mission-house until the episcopal
dwelling had been put into thorough repair. The
Waimate was, at that period, the most settled district
in New Zealand ; and here, to a greater extent than
anywhere else, the influence of the missionaries had
made itself felt. The Lord's Table was frequently
surrounded by as many as four hundred native con-
verts. Its very remoteness from the centres, into
which the flowing tide of immigration was beginning
to pour, commended it to the Bishop in selecting a
home. He knew that he himself would be absent for
long periods on his evangelistic labours ; and he felt
an intense horror at the thought of leaving his loved
ones to breathe the unwholesome moral atmosphere
that too often characterises new colonial settlements.
Mrs. Selwyn quickly fell in love with her new
surroundings and associates. The Waimate itseL,
with its cosy houses and pretty gardens clustering
around the white spire of the little church, reminded
her of an English village. She would often take her
little boy and stroll away along the tracks into the
bush, and return to the mission-house delighted with
the new ferns and mosses which she had gathered in
her ramble. The Maoris themselves, too, were a
source of perennial interest to her. She was especially
amused at their culinary arrangements, and loved to
see them cook their food. She watched them dig an
oven a circular hole two or three feet wide out of
the ground. In this pit a large fire was kindled ; a
layer of stones was laid upon the blazing pile ; and,
as the wood crumbled to ashes, these stones, giving off
a fierce heat, fell to the bottom of the excavation.
The wood was then shovelled out ; the stones, by
means of a stout stick, were arranged evenly in rows
and covered with a layer of green leaves ; on these
the food was then placed. Another layer of leaves
covered it, and the earth was then restored until the
hole was almost filled again. After a time the oven
58
On the Lone Bush Track
would be reopened, and the food, " done to a turn,"
was taken out and eaten.
One grievous disappointment cast its gloom over
their first home at the Antipodes. Dr. Selwyn's old
friend and chaplain, the Rev. T. B. Whytehead, from
whose magnetic influence over young men in England
the Bishop had been led to anticipate great things in
the coming days, was too ill when the Tomatin left'
Sydney to resume the voyage. And when, sub-
sequently, he did complete the journey and rejoin the
party, he only asked of the new land a grave.
But the time had now come to start work in real
earnest, and the Bishop, having seen his wife and
child comfortably ensconced in their cosy quarters at
the Waimate, began to apply his restless mind to a
plan for compassing the needs of his enormous
episcopate. He determined to spend the remainder
of the year 1842 in a personal visitation of the whole of
the North Island, and to follow up this stupendous
programme by a southern tour in 1843. When we
remember that, as the crow flies, a thousand miles
intervene between the North Cape and the Bluff;
when we reflect, too, that it was the Bishop's intention,
not simply to travel through the land from Dan to
Beersheba, but to zigzag from settlement to settle-
ment, acquainting himself with all the people of his
huge diocese ; and when we further remind ourselves
that, necessarily, much of the ground must be covered
on foot, we can form a vague notion of the colossal
proportions of his undertaking. On 28th July, five
weeks after his wife's arrival, he set out upon his first
great expedition. He returned on 9th January ot the
following year, having traversed in the interval 2685
miles, of which 1400 were by ship, 397 by boat,
126 on horseback, and 762 on foot!
The best descriptions of these long feats of
endurance and exploration are contained in his letters
to his father. They were great days, in the dear old
59
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
home, when letters arrived from over the seas. And
such letters ! For they consisted, not merely of pages
and pages of racily written descriptions of his wild
nomadic life, lit up by vivid and realistic flashes
which seemed to bring New Zealand next door to
Great Britain, but also of exceedingly clever pen-and-
ink sketches of every scene and object that called for
particular attention. Dr. Selwyn put his very best
into his home letters. They were literary gems and
artistic masterpieces. They were, moreover, couched
in terms of the old-time boyish frankness ; and
breathed, in every stroke of the pen, that fragrant
atmosphere of transparent devotion and undying
affection in which, in the heart of their writer, every
thought of home was immutably enshrined.
It is from these tender and characteristic epistles,
which filled at the same time the eyes of their readers
with tears, and their hearts with grateful pride, that
we gather the most authentic impressions of these
wonderful and adventurous pilgrimages. On, and
ever on, he tramped along the tortuous bush tracks,
mile after mile and day after day. The very tuis and
bell-birds must have come to know that lithe and
lonely figure as he invaded their sylvan solitudes, and,
pausing not nor resting, pressed tirelessly on, It was
in prosecuting these great tours that his cross-country
work at Eton proved invaluable to him. No
obstacles turned him aside. He found a way or made
it. He negotiated the most broken and forbidding
country with a facility which would have kindled the
envy of a royal engineer. In every gully and ravine
he discovered a spot at which he could cross the mere,
ford the stream, or splash his way through the lagoon.
By the bank of the river he would either strip for a
swim, or inflate his air-bed, and fastening it to boughs
torn from the trees, convert it into a magnificent raft.
It was a part of his creed, and a part to which he
clung as tenaciously as to any, that difficulties were
60
61
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
designed for the express purpose of being overcome.
He laughed his way through obstacles that to most
men would have been insuperable. Sometimes he
was attended in these long marches by admiring and
devoted natives. Occasionally one of his colleagues
went with him ; and once or twice his great friend,
Mr. Chief Justice Martin, was able to dovetail his
own itinerary into the programme of the Bishop.
But often he was quite alone, pitching his little camp
at night beside a giant kauri or beneath some
spreading native beech, and at the first suspicion of
sunrise, folding his tent like the Arab, and silently
stealing away.
Capiain Jacobs, of the Mission schooner Southern
Cross, once overtook the Bishop travelling north,
riding one horse and leading another ; the latter
bore the impedimenta of his camp. The captain,
who was about to enjoy the hospitality of a neigh-
bouring settler, invited the Bishop to share the kindly
accommodation with him. The well-meant offer was
instantly and firmly declined. "You see," he said,
" people get up so late. By the time that they are
having breakfast, I shall be half-way on my journey."
As it happened, however, Mr. Jacobs had not travelled
many miles next morning before he came upon the
Bishop sitting gipsy-like in front of a fire by the side
of the track, in the blaze of which he was evidently
cooking his breakfast. He explained that his fond
hopes of an early start had been cruelly frustrated by
the horses having broken away during the night. On
the opposite side of the crackling flames, obviously
on the best terms with his ecclesiastical companion,
squatted the most worthless-looking tramp that it
was possible to see. " He positively hadn't five
shillings worth of clothes on him ! " Captain Jacobs
would exclaim, in telling the story. " You see," said
the Bishop, with an inclination of his head towards
his strange guest, "I have a friend to breakfast!"
62
On the Lone Bush Track
" Ay," the captain would add in relating the incident,
" and he meant it too ! "
This al fresco hospitality was a common feature of
these long bush marches. The Bishop hated to eat
his morsel alone. Innumerable stories are told by
his friends of the way in which they would find him
on a track over the mountains, or in the shaded
recesses of some thickly wooded valley, sharing his
frugal meal with an aged Maori, or spreading a simple
repast on the bark of a fallen tree for the entertain-
ment of some fellow-traveller, who, by a mistaken
reckoning, found himself at an unexpected distance
from his base of supplies. And in every case he was
on the best of terms with his companion. Whether
listening to the prattle of a Maori child who had
wandered from a neighbouring pa ; or sharing his
lunch with a bronzed and broad-shouldered squatter ;
or chatting with an awkward, loose-limbed lad from
a remote settlement, he was always perfectly at his
ease, and always imparting the same sense of freedom
to his guest.
Nor were these continuous pilgrimages mere
purposeless tramps. Whenever he caught sight of
the wreathing column of smoke that betokened the
settler's hut, he instantly turned aside to acquaint
himself with the people and their conditions. When-
ever he came upon some rustic township, bush
settlement or native pa, he at once pitched his tent,
and threw all his energy into his ministration to the
deepest needs of the people. He conducted services
whenever, and wherever, he could find or make an
opportunity, sometimes in a barn or loft, sometimes
in a concert-hall or dancing-saloon, sometimes in a
native whare, and often in the open air. The azure
sky was frequently his cathedral dome, the bush-
birds his choristers. The most unaffected and approach-
able of men, he induced alike the roughest and the
shyest to entrust him with their confidenc s. He
63
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
comforted the aged ; he counselled the middle-aged ;
and young people and little children delighted in his
company. Moreover, he was often called to " heal the
sick " as well as to " preach the Gospel," and with all a
man's strength, and all a woman's gentleness, he
executed this part of his apostolic commission.
" What an admirable nurse he was ! " wrote a lady
friend, who had often witnessed his ministry to the
stricken and the suffering. "There are many now
living who can tell of his tenderness and patience
in this capacity."
The only person for whom the Bishop showed no
consideration was himself. Mr. Abraham (afterwards
Bishop of Wellington) tells how, in the course of
a long walk from one end of the North Island to the
other, the Bishop stopped, apparently to adjust a
boot-lace, and told Mr. Abraham to go on, saying :
" I will overtake you in a minute." The delay lasted
longer than he had expected, and Mr. Abraham
strolled back to ascertain the cause. He found the
Bishop treating an ugly and inflamed wound on his
heel, and stolidly hacking away the proud flesh with
his pocket-knife. In relation to the sufferings of
others he was acutely sympathetic, but where he
himself was concerned, he was a perfect Spartan.
On reaching Wellington, the southern limit of his
first visitation, he was joined by the Chief Justice, who
saw at a glance that this rude life of privation and
endurance was already telling upon him. "As our
boat neared the beach," writes the Judge, "the Bishop
stood there to welcome us. It was very joyous to
meet him again, but I was struck by his pale, worn
face. He was nursing the sick in the person ofpoor
Evans, who had then been given over by the
physicians. He was to all appearances sinking. The
Bishop was watching and tending as a mother or wife
might watch and tend. It was a most affecting sight.
He practised every little art, that nourishment might
64
On the Lone Bush Track
be supplied to his patient. He pounded chicken into
fine powder, that it might pass, in a liquid form, into
his ulcerated mouth. He made jellies ; he listened
to every sound ; he sat up the whole night through
by the bedside. In short, he did everything worthy
of his noble nature. It went to my heart." To the
great grief of the Bishop the patient died, leaning, in
his last anguish, upon the arm of his assiduous bene-
factor. " I had been with him three weeks," the
Bishop wrote to his mother, "and enjoyed much
comfort in the simple manner in which he expressed
the sincerity of his repentance, and the grounds of his
hope for the life to come." In a letter to Mrs. Martin,
the Chief Justice tells how, in strolling over the sunlit
hills next morning for a breath of fresh air before
going into Court, he found there, amidst the life and
beauty of a spring morning, a boy digging the grave
of poor Evans. " The Bishop and I," he adds, " have
slept side by side, on two stretchers, in a huge loft
ever since I came."
Immediately after the funeral of his late patient,
Dr. Selwyn turned his face northward, and set out
upon his return journey. He made his way along the
shore, on the west coast of the island, with a view to
visiting the settlers of the Taranaki district. He had
not gone far, however, before he was overtaken by a
misfortune which compelled him to camp, for three
days, among the low sand-hills near the beach. His
heel became inflamed as a consequence of continual
walking on the flat sands, and whilst chafing at this
enforced inactivity, he celebrated the anniversary of
his Consecration Service. In contrasting his present
condition with that in which he found himself a year
ago, and in reviewing the toils and travels in which
the year had involved him, he found cause for nothing
but contentment and thanksgiving. And, in recount-
ing, in his letter to his mother, the numerous mercies
which had, during the year, attended his way, he
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
specially mentions the cheerfulness with which she
had borne the anguish of their separation. It was not
until many months afterwards that he learned that
that letter was destined never to greet the eyes of her
for whose comfort it was designed. For, even as he
sat among the tussocks, impatiently nursing his
swollen heel, that gentle spirit, beneath his portrait in
the old home, was peacefully breathing itself back to
God. On that first anniversary of his Consecration
Service she passed away, thinking of him, speaking of
him, and praying for him to the very last.
His return journey led him through country more
closely settled by immigrants on the one hand, and
more thickly peopled by native tribes on the other.
At Waikanae, more than five hundred Maoris crowded
together to hear him ; and as he addressed them in
their own rhythmic and musical language, he was
delighted to notice, from the quickly changing play
of expression upon their countenances, that his
utterance was followed with interest, and its deeper
significance apprehended with ease. It was evident
that, among the natives, his fame had preceded him.
At every pa he was welcomed with boisterous
enthusiasm, and tribe vied with tribe in demonstrat-
ing its delight. Here, enormous bonfires blazed in
honour of his approach ; whilst there, animals were
slaughtered and presented as a token of goodwill.
Sometimes, indeed, these effusive manifestations of
rejoicing at the coming of the great white preacher
stood in imminent peril of appearing somewhat
ludicrous. On one occasion, for example, he visited
a strong and fortified pa which had recently made
its name notorious in connection with a most revolt-
ing massacre, followed by the supplementary horrors
of cannibalism. The guilty people received the
Bishop with the most frenzied delight, " the principal
murderer being himself most assiduous ;n his atten-
tions. '
6$
On the Lone Bush Track
Having followed the coast-line as far as the point at
which the waters of the beautiful Manawatu empty
themselves into the sea, Dr. Selwyn decided to
reorganise his party, in order to make the ascent
of the stream. On 7th November, therefore, he
found himself at the head of an expedition consisting
of six canoes, each containing eight men, fully
equipped for the long river journey. New Zealand
has many claims upon the admiration of beholders,
but in her river scenery she surpasses herself. The
clear and tranquil waters, reflecting as in a mirror the
majestic hills on either side, are at once the rapture of
the poet and the despair of the artist. As far as eye
can reach, in every direction, the mountainous peaks
lift their massive heads to the skies, sometimes
feathering gently and gradually down to the river's
brink, and sometimes falling with abrupt and
precipitous suddenness to the water's edge. As the
canoes glide on, we catch glimpses of range beyond
range, in bewildering number and variety, every slope
densely clothed with a glorious tangle of magnificent
bush, which, from the branches that wave triumphantly
from the dizzy heights above, to those that lean over
and bathe their verdure in the eddies of the stream,
nowhere knows a break.
Before the procession of canoes was launched upon
its long expedition, the Bishop had received from
Wellington a budget of letters and newspapers from
home. Only those who have been similarly circum-
stanced can know the thrill that accompanies the
arrival of the English mail. Yet so transcendently
beautiful was the scenery, and so charming the foliage
amidst which his little fleet was so gracefully moving,
that the Bishop found it difficult to withdraw his gaze
for a moment from the loveliness around him, in order
to devour the precious contents of his welcome
missives. Day after day the great flowering shrubs
which, in all their early summer glory, imparted to
67
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
the evergreen bush a magnificent profusion of colour,
the rhythmic plash of the paddles in the silvery waters,
and the wild melody of the myriad songsters in the
forest around, wove themselves into a memory of
music and delight which haunted the Bishop to his
dying day. The laughter of these waterfalls, the
thunder of these cataracts, and the innumerable
calls and echoes of the bush were with him even in
his last hours. Night after night, when the mopoke
was shouting his strange cry down the wooded
valleys, the party would paddle ashore and pitch their
encampment. At every sign of a settlement, progress
was instantly suspended, greetings exchanged, and a
service conducted. When Sunday dawned, they were
far from any traces of population. It was a glorious
day, sunny but not sultry. The Bishop gathered his
Maori attendants together, and in his own homely
and felicitous style expounded to them the eternal
message of the love of Christ. Later in the day he
indulged in a restful stroll through the charming
environs of the camp. And before retiring for the
night, he once more assembled his party, and
committed them to that Divine care, beyond which, by
peak or by plain, by sea or by shore, none who trust
can ever drift.
The next day afforded them the opportunity of
enjoying the more exciting pleasures of the chase.
They forsook the river and struck inland towards
the east coast. After some little exploration they
came upon a noble plain, across which they were able
to walk for eighteen miles on soft, fresh grass. The
district abounded in wild pigs, and when at night the
hunters turned towards the camp, each man was
heavily laden with his porcine spoil. In this vicinity,
too, they discovered a fine lake, in the centre of
which stood a small island, on which a native settle-
ment had been erected. In response to their signals,
the Maoris sent canoes across the rippling waters to
68
On the Lone Bush Track
bring the episcopal party to the pa. Wrapped in his
flowing blanket, the chief pronounced an oration of
welcome, "with all the dignity" to quote Dr.
Selwyn's words "of a Roman senator. But when,"
he adds, " the time came for our departure, he prepared
to accompany us by dressing himself in a complete
English suit of white jean, with white cotton stockings,
shoes, neckcloth, and shirt complete. His wife was
dressed in a brilliant cotton gown, spotted with bright
red, and a good English bonnet, but without shoes
or stockings. The canoe, being in shallow water,
some distance from the shore, the dutiful wife saved
her husband's shoes and stockings by carrying him
on her back to the boat."
On November i6th an awkward predicament
overtook them. After conducting a service at Ahuriri,
they found the canoe stuck fast, and the tents out of
reach ! At length one tent was procured, in which the
first Bishop of New Zealand, the first Chief Justice,
and the first Archdeacon huddled together for the
night. " Surely," writes the Bishop, " such an
aggregate of legal and clerical dignity was never
before collected under one piece of canvas ! "
It was amidst such alternating scenes of gravity
and gaiety that this long and memorable tour of
episcopal visitation drew to its close. Sometimes
we see the Bishop preaching with great force and
fervour to as many as a thousand Maoris at once,
they standing bare-headed beneath the scorching
summer sun, whilst he addresses them from beneath
the canvas awning which they have erected for his
accommodation. Sometimes we catch a glimpse of
him bending over the prostrate form of a member of
his staff, who, overcome by the heat and excitement
of the journey, has developed a malady which sorely
taxes all his master's ingenuity and resource. And
at other times we see him crossing a river, either by
felling a tree to serve as a rustic bridge, by swimming,
6g
George Augustus Selwyri, D.D.
if not encumbered by heavy baggage, or by punting
across on a hastily improvised raft.
He had fondly hoped to be back at the Waimate
in time to spend his first midsummer Christmas with
his wife and child. But all hope of realising this
alluring dream had to be reluctantly and ruthlessly
abandoned. It was getting towards the end of
November when, emerging from the bush-land of
the interior, they heard the roar of the breakers on
the east coast of the island. On 2Oth December he
slept in a potato-field, which, as he said, possessed
the twofold advantage of providing him with both
bed and board. The next day he saw the steam
rising from the thermal district of Rotorua. A - few
hours later he reached the banks of the Thames, and
contrasted that lonely stream with the busy river
around which most of his Eton and Windsor recollec-
tions centred. Christmas Day was spent in conference
with an old chief who, whilst really heathen, made a
profession of Roman Catholicism in order to evade
the attentions of Protestant missionaries. On Sunday,
January ist, he "reviewed with great thankfulness
the events of the past year, so full of new and
important features"; and on January 3rd he reached
Auckland. His own record of his return is too
striking to be omitted.
" On Tuesday, January 3rd," he says, " 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 Manakau harbour. Then ten miles by boat
across the harbour. It is a noble sheet of water,
but very dangerous from shoals and squalls. 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
70
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
fetched sixpence in the Auckland rag- market. My
last remaining pair of shoes (pumps) were strong
enough for the light and sandy walk of six miles to
Auckland ; and at 2 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 a cathedral.
It is a spot which, I hope, may hereafter be traversed
by many bishops better shod, and far less ragged,
than myself."
If, in addition to his longing to see his dear ones,
any other incentive were needed to hasten his steps
towards the Waimate, it was supplied by the news
which greeted him on his entrance into Auckland, of
the arrival, in a most critical condition, of his friend,
the Rev. T. B. Whytehead. Only those who had
walked, as closely as the Bishop had done, with this
choice and cultured spirit, could appreciate his worth.
It was a fundamental part of Dr. Selwyn's programme
to establish a College at Waimate with Mr. Whytehead
as its principal. Without losing an hour, therefore,
he hurried on. When approaching the settlement,
Mr. Whytehead was one of the first to greet him,
" his pale and spectral face telling its own story." A
day or two later the invalid took to his bed. Each
evening the Maori Christians, to whom he had
ministered, ranged themselves beneath his window,
and sang, in their own language, " Glory to Thee, my
God, this night ! " a hymn which Mr. Whytehead
had himself translated for them. Ten days after his
chiefs return, the patient sufferer passed peacefully
away ; and the Bishop felt that his burial gave to the
land of his adoption a new sanctity and an added
claim. Perhaps the most eloquent tribute ever paid
to this good man's memory was offered when, twenty-
five years later, the members of St. John's College,
Cambridge, erected a new chapel. They engraved the
name of Thomas Whytehead on the vaulted roof, side
by side with those of Henry Martyn, William
72
On the Lone Bush Track
Wilberforce, William Wordsworth, and James Wood,
as the five most distinguished benefactors of their race
which the College, during the nineteenth century, had
produced.
But meanwhile the Bishop was at home again !
After his prodigious labours and ceaseless privations,
he was permitted to breathe a softer atmosphere. His
delight at finding his wife and child in excellent health,
and in once more revelling in the luxury of their
society, knew no bounds. The missionaries and their
families welcomed him back with a will. The Maoris,
on catching sight of him, clapped their hands and
shouted " Haere Mail" (Welcome !). And the whole
settlement assumed a festal air on his return.
73
CHAPTER IV
THE GARDEN IN THE WILDERNESS
" He stood upon the world's broad threshold ; wide
The din of battle and of slaughter rose ;
He saw God standing on the weaker side
That sank in seeming loss before its foes.
Therefore he went
And humbly joined him to the weaker part ;
Fanatic named, and fool, yet well content
So he could be the nearer to God's heart,
. And feel its solemn pulses sending blood
Through all the widespread veins of endless good."
LOWELL.
'"PHE days which the Bishop spent in the congenial
* atmosphere of his northern home were by no
means devoted to rest or relaxation. His first
extensive tour through but one of the islands of his
enormous diocese had but deepened his sense of
responsibility. He felt that he was laying the found-
ations of a mighty nation. And every moment of the
time that intervened between one long expedition and
another was invested in the equally important task of
organisation and consolidation. Dr. Selwyn had
implicit faith in New Zealand. He dreamed radiant
dreams of its splendid future. Even when the hills
were everywhere draped with virgin bush, he deliber-
ately laid his plans in confident anticipation of the
time when those same landscapes should be smothered
with an intricate network of crowded streets ; when
those very hills should echo to the scream of railway
engines ; and when that clear air should be murky
74
The Garden in the Wilderness
with the smoke of many factories. He heard afar
off the tramp of millions of feet, the roar of heavy
traffic, and the whirling of myriad wheels. And he
set himself to prepare for the day that he saw dawning.
Into two movements, especially, the Bishop threw all
his energy from the very first. He felt that, as the
future centre of his work, it was essential that a site
for a Cathedral should be purchased in Auckland ;
and as he looked with gratitude and delight upon the
hundreds of native converts at the various mission-
stations, he was confirmed in his conviction that a
College, for the training and equipment of a native
ministry, was absolutely indispensable.
He had only been a few months in the country
when he selected and purchased a site for the
Cathedral. Macaulay has made all the world familiar
with his gloomy vision of the New Zealander stand-
ing on a broken arch of London Bridge to sketch
the ruins of St. Paul's. But Mr. Swainson, the first
Attorney-General of New Zealand, has painted a
companion picture in somewhat livelier colours.
Referring to the site selected for the Auckland
Cathedral, he says : " By the provident foresight of
Bishop Selwyn, this commanding position has been
secured for the Metropolitan Cathedral of New
Zealand. And at some remote period, in the far distant
future, when the projected Cathedral shall have become
a venerable pile, it will be a matter of no little interest
to its then ministers (should the tradition be so long
preserved) to read how, in the dark or early ages of
New Zealand, A.D. 1843, its founder, the first bishop,
returning from a walking visitation of more than a
thousand miles, attended by a faithful companion oi a
then, it may be, extinct race, his shoes worn out and
tied to his instep by a leaf of native flax, travel-worn
but not weary, once more found himself on this
favoured spot, arrested for a moment by the noble
prospect presented to his bodily eye, and cheered by
75
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
the prophetic vision of a long line of successors,
Bishops of New Zealand, traversing the same spot,
better shod and less ragged than himself. Such a
scene, illustrative of the hour and the man, in the
hands of a true artist, would afford a fitting subject
for a painting to adorn the walls of the future
Chapter- house."
But the coup-de-grace of the Bishop's faculty for
organisation, and the finest reflection of his own
practical ingenuity, was undoubtedly the establishment
of the College of St. John the Evangelist. Founded
on " the best precedents of antiquity," and intended
for both natives and European colonists, St. John's
College was frequently declared by the Bishop to be
the " key and pivot " of all his operations, and the only
regular provision for its support was an annual grant
of .300 from the S.P.G. For the first two years the
College really consisted of two or three small tents,
grouped around the Cathedral tent which the Bishop
had brought from England. Then when the Bishop
removed to Auckland, the tents gave place to wooden
houses, thatched with reeds, on the banks of the stream
at Purewa. And from those modest beginnings the
work has persisted, the methods have developed, and
the buildings have grown to the much more elaborate
and imposing proportions which characterise the
institution to-day.
The College was designed according to the original
documents: (i) as a place of religious and useful
education for all classes of the community, and
especially for candidates for Holy Orders ; (2) as a
temporary hostelry for young settlers on their first
arrival in the country ; and (3) as a refuge for the sick,
the aged, and the poor. The Bishop, with that practical
sagacity which never failed him, ordained that each
student should devote a definite portion of his time
daily to some useful pursuit, in aid of the purposes of
the Institution. He reminded his young enthusiasts
76
M W
77
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
of the apostolic precept : " Let him labour, working
with his own hands the thing which is good, that he
may have to give to him that needeth." Arrange-
ments were made by which the students should be
taught and exercised in the crafts of gardening,
forestry, farming, carpentry, turning, printing, weaving
and in other equally useful arts and remunerative
occupations.
" Our little College assumes a regular form," the
Bishop wrote to his sister in July, 1843, " and already
gives me promise of a supply of men duly qualified
to serve God in the ministry of His Church. We
have already nine students, three of whom will, I hope,
be admitted to deacon's orders in September. I
suppose that Sarah has given you an account of our
mode of life which will amuse you. Mrs. Watts is
College cook, and bakes and cooks for the whole body
so that ladies as well as gentlemen are free to attend
to reading and teaching. The College kitchen is
regulated upon the plan of a kitchen at Cambridge
supplying regular ' commons ' to every member, and
providing extras to those who like to order. Each
person's ' commons,' including tea, sugar, meat, bread,
and potatoes, amounts to one shilling per diem, which
is the uniform expense of every person in the
establishment.
" At the end of seven years, if we may look forward
to so distant a period, we hope to send William to
England. I used to think of bringing him, but the
more I see of my diocese, the less prospect I have of
being able to absent myself for a year within the next
ten or fifteen years. If I could get some good Arch-
deacons from England the case would be altered, but
there seems to be a conspiracy of papas and mammas
against New Zealand and me, four of my personal
friends, if not five, being prevented by such interference
from following the leading of their own hearts and
joining me.
78
The Garden in the Wilderness
" Sarah is in high favour with the natives, who love
a cheerful eye and friendly manner. Her name is
1 Matta Pihopa,' Mother Bishop. They all say that
her ataivai (grace) is great.
" Our native school on board the Tomatin has been
of the greatest possible service to us all, though I
regret to say that our schoolmaster, Rupai, my native
boy, has fulfilled the predictions of Sir William
Hooker and others, and returned to his native habits.
" We have also a little printing-press in constant
operation, printing native lessons and skeleton sermons
for the native teachers, college regulations, bills,
receipts ; in fact, doing everything that we require for
the routine of our business.
" I have held two ordinations, one at Wellington,
at which Mr. Mason was admitted to priest's orders in
the presence of 400 natives, the other at the Waimate,
when Mr. Davis, one of the senior catechists of
the Church Mission, was ordained deacon. I have
also held six confirmations, at which 700 natives and
a few English have been confirmed.
" You will gather from this letter that we are very
happy and beginning to feel settled for life, with roots
striking deeper and deeper into the soil of this lovable
country."
A great deal of time was spent in planning the
division of his huge and unwieldy episcopate into
separate sees, a step which the Bishop saw to be
inevitable at no distant date. A thorough scheme of
preliminary organisation was drafted, and a common
Diocesan Fund was established. Into this Fund, with
characteristic unselfishness, the Bishop threw half of
his own stipend.
Mrs. Selwyn's health, which had for some time
given much anxiety, improved somewhat towards the
end of 1843, and the Bishop felt that he could leave
her in the care of their old friends, Mr. Chief Justice
Martin and his excellent wife, and set out on his
79
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
deferred visitation of the South Island. He left
Auckland as the sun was setting, on i8th October,
1843, accompanied by his chaplains, Mr. Cotton and
Mr. Nihill, and by the "chief protector of Aborigines,"
Mr. Clark.
We shall make no attempt to follow him in detail
throughout this second long journey. The tour which
we have already described is typical of all such
nomadic excursions. He determined, on this second
expedition, to cross the North Island diagonally, from
north-east to south-west, to visit the settlements at
New Plymouth, Wanganui, and Wellington, and to
sail thence for the South Island, on which he had not
yet set foot.
In the course of this pilgrimage he penetrated the
volcanic region, and stood amazed at the awe-in-
spiring phenomena by which he was everywhere
surrounded. Magnificent geysers hurled their immense
volumes of boiling water to the skies ; hot springs
foamed and bubbled in every direction. Through
every crack and cranny and crevice fierce jets of
steam rushed hissing out. Here and there, the very
mud was seething and spluttering in a furious ferment
of heated agitation. The entire area was weird,
awful, desolate, yet possessing a grandeur of its own.
The very earth shuddered as though in the grasp of a
relentless monster who could crush it if he would.
Every inch of soil, and every drop of moisture, gave
fearful witness to the fiery forces that slumbered
beneath the surface, and ominously hinted at wild
possibilities should they awake in anger. The Bishop
gazed, too, with a delight approaching to ecstasy, on
the radiantly beautiful pink and white terraces, both
of which have since suffered complete demolition in
the fearful eruption of 1886.
Pressing towards the south, his letters afford us
glimpses of him, now hewing for himself a way
through a trackless jungle of bush ; now up to his
80
I 2
81
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
arm-pits in some extensive swamp or lagoon ; and,
again, swimming the Wanganui river, or crossing it at
the flood on his air-bed, which he had by this time
dignified with the title of " the episcopal barge." On
1 5th November he reached Wanganui, then a tiny
settlement of about a hundred people ; on 4th
December he left New Plymouth ; and on 8th Decem-
ber he effected, at Nelson, his first landing on the
South Island.
A deep gloom enshrouds the records of this tour,
for at every place the Bishop detected evidences of
that smouldering hatred and festering discontent
which, not long after, burst out into actual war.
Everywhere natives and settlers were looking askance
at each other, and regarding one another with ill-
disguised suspicion. Here and there massacres had
already taken place, and at every turn Dr. Selwyn's
happy faculty for reconciling antagonists and adjust-
ing grievances was laid under heavy requisition. He
had no sooner landed on the South Island than he
discovered, to his sorrow, that the North held no
monopoly in this unfortunate matter. The church at
Nelson is prettily perched upon a picturesque knoll
in the centre of the town. The Bishop found the hill
converted into a fort, and was compelled to enter the
building by way of a drawbridge. On the Sunday he
preached in the church, making tactful and conciliatory
reference to the painful dissensions and shocking
atrocities which had recently occurred, and a few
days later left for Wellington. Here,also,a tumultuous
state of feeling prevailed. A Maori had been charged
with theft and sentenced to two months' imprisonment.
The natives in Court made a hostile demonstration,
furiously hissing the judge ; they then retired to
their pa to consider further action, and arrange a
rescue of the prisoner. Taking with him Mr.
Hadfield (afterwards Bishop of Wellington) and Mr.
Cotton, Dr. Selwyn strode off to the pa. Greenstone
82
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
hatchets and iron weapons were angrily flourished in
his face, and with many threats and imprecations he
was commanded instantly to depart. He persisted,
however, in quietly remaining among them, speaking,
as opportunity presented itself, an occasional word of
dispassionate counsel or friendly persuasion. Mr.
Hadfield also addressed the Maoris in " a quiet vein of
raillery which is always effective with native
assemblies." Before midnight the storm had subsided,
and next morning the chiefs professed the utmost
goodwill.
If, as we have seen, the North Island expressed, in
1843, but a remote hint, an almost imperceptible
whisper, of the remarkable transformation of the
immediate future, it may be fearlessly affirmed that
the prophecy of a coming civilisation in the South
Island was even less audible. Where the busy
province of Canterbury now stands, with its hundreds
of thriving towns, and even where its stately capital
now converges upon its lofty Cathedral spire, a great
and silent prairie was all that greeted the eye of
Bishop Selwyn. He landed from the schooner
Richmond, on which he had run down from
Wellington, on 6th January, 1844. The coast he
found dotted by one or two whaling stations ; but the
broad areas of the Canterbury plains, now a perfect
panorama of pastoral and agricultural activity, waved,
far as the eye could reach, with brown tussock and
with yellow grass. He would have been a daring seer
who, looking upon that trackless prairie as it met the
eye of Bishop Selwyn, would have hazarded the
prediction that, within the lifetime of a single genera-
tion, great ocean liners would be smoking on every
skyline,bearing the wealthy products of those unbroken
plains to all the markets of the world.
Farther south, where now the prosperous province
of Otago stands, the silence was even more intense.
Here, to a greater extent than in the north, the
84
The Garden in the Wilderness
Maoris had been decimated by tribal warfare, and
swept off by pitiless disease. At the opening of the
nineteenth century a native settlement near the Otago
Heads had consisted of about 2000 souls. Half a
century later only fifty of these survived. Men
with whom Dr. Selwyn conversed could tell how,
within their memory, a settlement of a thousand hid
dwindled down to a dozen. The colder climate and
the fiercer feuds had combined with diseases, intro-
duced from over the seas, to work the most fearful
havoc. " At one small bay," we are told, " about
three hundred died of measles. Some of the parents,
ere dying, are said to have buried their children alive
rather than leave them to linger on through the
disease to its fatal end."
At the time of the Bishop's arrival in Otago, the
scene was preparing for a radical change. The old
race had almost expired, the new race had not yet
arrived. It was not until four years later that the
John Wydiffe and the Philip Laing brought out, from
their highland homes and quiet kirks, those sturdy
pioneers who, before they had so much as built a hut
or felled a tree, kneeled upon the shore and, mingling
their voices in psalms and supplication, prayed that
they might find grace to establish a colony in the love
of righteousness, and in the fear of God. Through
these lonely lands the Bishop made his way, minister-
ing to such human life as he could discover, and
always preparing to-day for the spiritual needs of the
millions who were coming to-morrow. On one day
he is being entertained by the great chief, Te Rehe,
who lived, with his wife, in a hut curiously constructed
of the bones of whales, thatched with reeds. On
another he is making himself perfectly at home in a
deserted and dilapidated old whaling station, where
broken boilers, decayed oil-barrels, and the ruins of
once snug little cabins mutely told of busy times in
still earlier days. For, from the time of the first
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
discovery of New Zealand, her waters swarmed with
whales ; and these extremely southern seas were
especially the happy hunting-ground of those adven-
turous spirits who scorned the isolation, and braved
the perils, of cannibal islands in the exciting pursuit
of their gigantic prey. Many a night did the Bishop
spend at these southern whaling stations. Sitting
with the whalers round a blazing fire, he loved to
listen to the thrilling stories that these earliest settlers
could tell of their hairbreadth escapes, both by sea
and land. They had often returned from the dangers
of the chase upon the waters, only to confront an
attack from hostile natives on the shore. And many
a good story did these same whalers afterwards tell of
the excitement with which the Bishop would follow
breathlessly the unfolding of their adventures, often
capping their most stirring tales by the recital of some
equally fearsome experience through which he himself
had passed.
Having journeyed as far as Stewart Island in the
extreme south, the Bishop hastened home. On the
way he was entertained by the captain and officers of
a French corvette which chanced to be lying at anchor
in Akaroa Harbour. " I dined on board," he tells us,
" in a style which contrasted amazingly with my life
on the native schooner, as I was received with a salute,
the crew drawn up in order, and a variety of other
formalities." He reached Auckland after a speedy
passage, having, however, very narrowly escaped
shipwreck off the Banks Peninsula.
Immediately upon his return, the Bishop resolved to
transfer his residence from Waimate to Auckland.
Upon him devolved now the care of many churches,
and it became absolutely essential that he should be
in touch with things at their centre. Moreover, his
days were dark with gloomy foreboding. Every
messenger brought news of the alarming spread of
disaffection among the natives, and of deplorable
86
2.
a
1 2
a a
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
outbreaks of hostilities. He was eager, too, to press
on with his great work of ecclesiastical reorganisation,
and this could be far more expeditiously effected from
Auckland than from a remote settlement in the far
north. The Church Missionary Society had also
committed itself to a readjustment of its forces in
New Zealand ; and all these factors in combination
rendered the Bishop's removal imperative. He there-
fore appointed the Rev. Henry Williams, his old friend
and early host, Archdeacon of the Waimate, and
removed his own home, his episcopal headquarters,
and St. John's College to the rapidly rising town of
Auckland, the then capital of the colony. Lady
Martin, the wife of the Chief Justice, thus vividly
describes the departure :
" The Bishop, Mrs. Selwyn, and the children were off
by 7 A.M. Mrs. Selwyn and her little boy of five
(William) rode ; the Bishop was on foot, with his
infant son (John, afterwards Bishop of Melanesia)
securely swathed in a plaid which was thrown over
his shoulder and wound round his waist. Friends
bade farewell ; and the Maori children came swarming
to the top of the lane singing: 'O that will be
joyful, When we meet to part no more.' We rowed
across the harbour, and before sunset landed at the
little town of Kororeka. We then went up to the
small wooden parsonage near the church on a hill
above the town and found the garden gay with shrubs
and flowers. Ere long the large party from the
Waimate, composed of English and natives, was
encamped in tents near Auckland till the new St.
John's College was ready to receive them."
Without further delay the Bishop decided to put
into actual operation some of those abstract ideas
which he had conceived and formulated at Windsor.
In September, 1844, he summoned a Synod of the
clergy of his diocese to " frame rules for the better
management of the mission, and the general govern-
The Garden in the Wilderness
ment of the church." It is difficult now to discern
the grounds on which such a gathering could be justly
censured ; but the fact remains that, when the news
reached England that such a Synod had been
convened, it was greeted with a storm of angry
criticism. New Zealand has, in a most marked way,
been a land of political and ecclesiastical experiments.
Many abstract principles of political economy have
GENERAL VIEW OF ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE AND CHAPEL
there been subjected to the stern test of practical
experience; and on having vindicated themselves on
that limited theatre, have become the commonplaces of
statesmanship among the older nations. Very few
modern Churchmen, it may be, adequately recognise
the enormous influence which Bishop Selwyn exerts
upon the religious life of our own day as a direct out-
come of these early experiments at the Antipodes.
He tested and improved his methods, most carefully
89
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
revising and pruning them at every stage, until the
finished result conformed precisely to his original ideal.
Then, on his elevation to Lichfield, he transplanted
the perfected organisation into the unpromising soil
and atmosphere of the conservative church-life of the
Homeland. Here, again, it abundantly justified
itself; and it is not too much to claim that the
imposing Synods and Pan-Anglican Congresses to
which modern eyes have grown accustomed are
the direct fruit and natural outcome of those
earlv experiments on the distant shores of New
Zealand.
During the next few years the Bishop worked
night and day at the development of his institutions.
As a result of these titanic labours he was able, in an
incredibly brief space of time, to look around upon a
group of activities of which any man might pardon-
ably be proud. St. John's College grew into a large
and prosperous centre of manifold, beneficent enter-
prises. Tutors and students devoted themselves with
equal energy to the exacting tasks of the class-room
as well as to those industrial pursuits by which the
establishment was supported. The hands that clasped
the text-book and the pencil in the morning awoke
the echoes of the neighbourhood with hammer and
saw in the afternoon. The greatest pride was taken
not only in the intellectual progress of the students,
but in the ploughing of the land, in the swarming of
the bees, in the feeding of the cattle, and in those
departments of the estate in which the printing-press,
the shoemaker's last, the tailor's needle, and the
weaver's loom were kept in constant employment.
Around the College there flourished a cluster of
kindred beneficent organisations. Quite an array of
schools sprang up. There was a natives' adult school,
a native boys' school, a native girls' school, a half-
castes' school, and an English primary school. Then,
too, there was an elaborate teaching staff ; there were
90
The Garden in the Wilderness
the lay associates ; and there was a visitor for
Household and Hospitality.
But, perhaps, the beautiful simplicity and apostolic
devotion which characterised all these institutions
will be most easily comprehended by a reference to
the St. John's Hospital. Side by side with the
College, the Bishop founded this most excellent
establishment, from the beds of which none who were
sick or in pain were by any means excluded. The
staff consisted entirely of voluntary helpers, who
cheerfully bound themselves to render medical
attendance and nursing care without any remunera-
tion whatever. The Bishop issued an appeal, based
upon the Divine precept : " Verily I say unto you,
inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of
these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me." And
in response to that challenge there was found no
lack of willing workers who pledged themselves " to
minister, so far as health would allow, to all the wants
of the sick of all classes, without respect of persons
or reservation of service, in the hope of excluding
all hireling assistance from a work which ought, if
possible, to be entirely a labour of love."
Such time as could be snatched from the immense
labour involved in this work of consolidation was
devoted to further tours of visitation through the
islands. In making these lengthy and tedious
excursions, the equestrian skill which the Bishop
had acquired in his cross-country steeple chases at
Eton often served him in good stead. At Wellington
he won the undying admiration of the Maoris by the
way in which he rode a certain horse along the beach.
At every step he was greeted with shouts of " Tena
korua ko ! " (" There you go, you and the buck-
jumper ! "). He dismounted and inquired the cause
of these unwonted demonstrations. Whereupon he
was informed that the chief who had lent him the
horse had deliberately placed at his disposal an
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
animal of particularly vicious propensities, and the
natives were applauding the skill with which he was
managing the worst buck-jumper in the country !
On another occasion the Maoris introduced him to
a horse which they called Rona, or, The Man in the
Moon. It was, they said, impossible to manage him.
The Bishop took a pack-saddle, and for two long
hours he wrestled patiently, but persistently, with the
knotty problem. He succeeded at last in covering
the horse's eyes with a pocket-handkerchief. Then,
holding up a foreleg with one hand, he adjusted the
pack-saddle with the other, the Maoris beholding his
triumph with mingled expressions of amazement and
delight.
Sir George Grey, who assumed the Lieutenant-
Governorship in 1845, and who was through all his
term of office a most staunch and sympathetic friend
^>f Bishop Selwyn's, brought a number of zebras
into the country. Many attempts were made to ride
them, but always without success. At last an old
Maori chief, who had witnessed the prowess of the
Bishop, asked if he had ever tried to break them in.
He was assured that such a feat was impossible.
The chief, however, sceptically shook his head, and
replied : "Impossible! how so? he has broken us in,
and tamed the Maori heart, why not the zebra ? "
The confident old chief was probably thinking of
the services which the Bishop was constantly
rendering as peacemaker in the native pas. Many a
sanguinary conflict was averted by his timely and
fearless intervention. On one occasion he entered a
pa, where all was turmoil and confusion on account
of the fact that a chief had murdered his cousin.
War was instantly declared between the friends of the
two parties ; the adherents of the murdered man
loudly proclaiming, with fierce gesticulations, their
thirst for revenge. In a very short time the two little
armies were drawn up in battle array. Bishop
92
The Garden in the Wilderness
Selwyn, accompanied by Mr. Abraham, interviewed
the leaders, first on this side and then on that,
attempting to bring about a peaceful understanding.
At last the Bishop approached the murderer, who
shamelessly recited the details of his crime, and
concluded the ghastly narrative by demanding :
" What do you think of that ? " Near by, the friends
of the man were lying fingering the triggers of their
rifles, and quite prepared to fire if the slightest danger
threatened him. The Bishop, however, looked the
man full in the face and replied : " I have no
hesitation in saying that, on your own showing, you
have committed the crime of which Cain was guilty
when he slew his brother Abel ! " Quivering with
anger, the man sprang forward and screamed : " Say
that again if you dare ! " The Bishop stood without
a tremor and deliberately repeated the words. Mr.
Abraham confessed that he thought the Bishop's hour
had come, for he saw the man's hand tighten on his
tomahawk hidden under his tartan plaid. At that
critical moment, however, a great cry arose among
the warriors : " The Bishop is right ! the Bishop is
right ! " Thereupon the guilty chief, confronted with
his crime, convicted by his conscience, and deserted
by his friends, slunk off, ashamed, to his ivhare.
It was only too evident by this time that the work
which the Bishop and his colleagues had so patiently
and painfully built up was destined to be subjected
to a fearful and fiery ordeal. The dissensions and
disputes which had smouldered for years had at last
blazed out into actual war. The slumbering savagery
of the native race revived with the outbreak of
hostilities. Every fierce passion was inflamed by a
sense of injustice, and every barbarous instinct was
quickened by the sight of blood. No greater calamity
could have overtaken the Bishop's heroic labours
than this tragic and deplorable convulsion. The
sickening horrors of war are sufficiently gruesome
93
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
and revolting anywhere and at any time ; but for a
war between the nation, represented by the mission-
aries on the one side, and the dark race which they
had come to evangelise on the other, to break out
just as the first Christian institutions were being
tremblingly founded, was a calamity aggravated by
every possible circumstance of time and of place.
Yet so it was British men-of-war were riding at
anchor in the lake-like harbours of New Zealand.
British regiments were encamped in those quiet
valleys which had for ages been the home of the kewa
and the tui. Maoris and Europeans flashed at each
other glances of hatred, and hurled at each other
angry threats and taunts of defiance. And soon the
tree-draped hills of this lovely land were echoing to
the clash of steel, the crack of rifles, the cry of men in
anguish, and the deep booming of heavy guns.
CPIAPTER V
BY BATTLE-FIELD AND BIVOUAC
"It is the little rift within the lute
That by and by will make the music mute.
And, ever widening, slowly silence all,
The little rift within the lover's lute,
Or little pitted speck in garnered fruit,
That rotting inward slowly moulders all."
TENNYSON.
TN the year 1819 George Selwyn being then a lad
* of ten, preparing for public-school life at Eton
the great Maori war-chief Hongi Ika visited England.
It was less than four years after Waterloo, and
Napoleon was fretting out his last days at St. Helena.
All eyes were focussed on the stalwart frame and
tattooed face of the terrible old chief. But his powers
of observation were also fully taxed. Our huge
machinery of war simply astounded him. Before our
frowning forts and threatening camps, our splendid
regiments and our far-flung battle-line, he stood
alarmed and bewildered. A few years later he lay
dying in his native land. The peaceful murmur of
the waves was in his ear ; the wind sighed softly
through the rata-leaves above his head ; and round
his couch there mingled with his relatives young
chiefs who aspired to inherit from the departing hero
his lion-like courage. And in his death-agony, the
terror which our armaments had inspired returned
upon him. " My children," he cried, " attend to my
last words. If ever there should land on this shore a
95
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
people who wear red garments, who do no work, who
neither buy nor sell, and who always have arms in
their hands, beware ! Those people are called soldiers,
a dangerous people whose occupation is war ! When
you see them, fight against them ! Then, O my
children, be brave ! Then, O my friends, be strong !
Be brave that you may not be enslaved ! Be strong
that your country may not become the possession of
strangers ! " And uttering these cryptic words he
died, and his people cherished his strange sayings.
Twelve years later Captain Hobson, R.N., the first
Lieutenant-Governor, landed at the Bay of Islands.
He at once hoisted the Union Jack, and endeavoured
to persuade the chiefs to recognise the sovereignty of
Queen Victoria. But the natives remembered the
last words of Hongi and were afraid. " The next
thing we heard," wrote one chief, " was that the
Governor was travelling all over the country, with a
large piece of paper, asking all the chiefs to write
their names, or make marks upon it. We all tried to
find out the reason why the Governor was so anxious
to have these marks. Some of us thought the
Governor wanted to bewitch all the chiefs, but our
pakeha (white) friends laughed at this, and said that
Europeans did not know how to bewitch people.
Some told us one thing ; some another. We did not
know what to think ; but we were all anxious for
him to come to us soon, for we were afraid that all
his blankets, his tobacco, and other good things would
be gone before he came to our part of the country,
and that he would have nothing left to pay us for
making our marks on his paper."
At last, on 7th February, 1840, Captain Hobson
gathered a great assembly of the principal chiefs at
Waitangi. In answer to their anxious inquiries he
most solemnly assured them that, in acknowledging
Queen Victoria as their lawful sovereign, they did not
surrender the proprietorship of a single inch of soil.
06
By Battle-Field and Bivouac
For long they remained dubious and hesitant. They
listened sceptically ; strolled off in little groups and
knots ; returned to elicit further information from the
Governor ; and again retired for further consultation
with each other. History presents to the imagination
few spectacles more romantic and picturesque than
this conclave at Waitangi. Here are the heirs and
representatives of a wild, yet . noble race, surrounded
by the rugged but lovely scenery of their native land,
parleying with the accredited ambassadors of a vast
and splendid empire. And as they listen to the
eloquent overtures and alluring promises of the pale
and polite strangers, they find their minds woefully
tormented with uncertainty as to whether they are
likely to be aggrandised or victimised by the proposed
alliance. At last a number of chiefs signed. Some
even among these stubbornly refused to accept any
present from the Governor, lest it should even seem
that a sale of land had . been effected. Captain
Hobson, without waiting for the decision of the
minority, declared the negotiations completed ; and
cheerfully informed the warriors that "the shadow
would go to the Queen, whilst the substance would
remain with themselves." They might, he said,
confide most implicitly in the good faith of the British
Government. Indeed, he cleverly persuaded the
assembled chiefs that, by signing the treaty, they had
enormously enhanced their dignity and importance,
since their own titles would be officially recognised,
whilst their people, restrained from tribal feuds, and
protected from foreign aggression, would rapidly grow
in numbers and in wealth.
One other fact is of immense significance. In
addition to the right of the race to the whole of the
land, and the claim of the individual upon his own
section of territory, the treaty of Waitangi also safe-
guarded the integrity of tribal rights. The land belong-
ing to one tribe could not be ceded tQ another tribe,
7 97
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
or seized by it with impunity. It was principally the
disrespect shown to this aspect of the compact that
involved the country in the unspeakable horrors of
the Maori war. Moreover, Captain Hobson found it
an easier task to persuade the Maoris to sign the
treaty than to convince his own countrymen of the
necessity of keeping faith with its conditions. The
New Zealand Company, which naturally had most to
do with land transactions with the natives, frankly
informed the British Government that " they had
always had very serious doubts whether the treaty of
Waitangi, made with naked savages by a consul
invested with no plenipotentiary powers, could be
treated by lawyers as anything but a praiseworthy
device for amusing and pacifying savages for the
moment." The Governor, however, congratulated
himself on having secured the coveted signatures.
He formally proclaimed New Zealand a British
Colony ; and to the further disgust of the New
Zealand Company, who were hurrying on the work of
settlement farther south, he proclaimed Auckland the
seat of Government. It was here, eighteen months
later, that the Bishop visited him immediately upon
his own arrival ; and here, a few months later still, the
gallant captain died.
The Governor had dwelt most optimistically, in his
address to the Maoris, on the fabulous wealth that
would accrue to them under British sovereignty and
protection. Traders would simply swarm into the
country ; great towns would spring up with
incredible rapidity ; the crowds of white men would
barter with their darker brethren on terms most
favourable to the latter. In a few months the pas of
the natives would overflow with treasure. Unfortu-
nately this rose-tinted prophecy fulfilled itself but
tardily ; and when, after some months had elapsed,
the Maoris could discover no appreciable increase in
the volume of immigration, they began to suspect
9$
Bv Battle-Field and Bivouac
/
that the integrity of their possessions was really no
more secure than the realisation of this golden dream.
" This one thing at least was true, we had less tobacco
and fewer blankets than formerly," writes that chief
from whose story we have already quoted ; " and we
saw that the first Governor had not spoken the truth,
for he told us that we should have a great deal more.
At last we began to think that the flagstaff (on which
the Union Jack had been hoisted) must have some-
thing to do with it ; and so Heke, the nephew of old
Hongi, went and cut it down. The Governor put up
the flagstaff again. A second time Heke cut it down.
Now when the Governor heard that Heke had cut
down the flagstaff the second time, he became very
angry. So he sent to England and to Port Jackson,
and everywhere,, for soldiers to come and guard the
flagstaff, and to fight with Heke. So the soldiers
came, and Heke sent runners to all the divisions 01
his tribe, saying : ' Come, stand at my back ; the red
garment is on the shore. Let us fight for our country !
Remember the last words of Hongi!"
The letters of Bishop Selwyn make it clear that
this Maori record of the beginning of the war is not
far from the truth. "The first indication oi disaffec-
tion to the British Government," he writes, " was in
March, 1843, from John Heke, who has since made
himself so conspicuous in his opposition to our
Government. I found, on inquiry, that the natives
suspected me oi an intention of sending their names
to the Queen. For a long time my residence at
Waimate was supposed to have some connection
with the general scheme for taking forcible possession
of the country. These suspicions were studiously
favoured by travelling dealers, who abused their small
knowledge ot the native language to misrepresent the
Government, and slander the missionaries." He then
describes the insult offered to the flag, and adds, " I
shuddered at the thought of the beginning of hostilk
99
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
ties, so full of presage of evil for the future. Heke
then crossed to Paihia and, with his party, danced the
war-dance in my face, after which many violent
speeches were made."
Unhappily for all concerned, some of the earlier
engagements in this terrible conflict told somewhat
heavily against the British. The white men fired the
first shot, and the white men were the first to run.
The Maoris, who had entertained an exaggerated
conception of our military prowess, were intoxicated
with a frenzy of delight at their unexpected successes,
and the confidence which they imbibed from these
early triumphs undoubtedly contributed to the
inordinate prolongation of the struggle. It must not,
however, be forgotten that, at the outset, almost
every advantage lay with the native forces. Their
great palisades furnished them with defences, so
ingeniously contrived and so powerfully constructed,
as to be almost impregnable. Over and over again
our troops thundered down upon these formidable
ramparts, and were driven back like waves beaten
into spray by the crags of the coast. In cases of
emergency, too, the abundant natural resources of one
of the most wonderful countries in the world were
unreservedly at the disposal of the natives. When
pressed they had but to retreat into the bush, and it
was as though the earth had opened her mouth and
swallowed them up. Every track and every tree
was familiar to them. They were in league with
Nature. They had their natural rendezvous in every
district. They plunged into the fern, one here and
one there ; and in half an hour had reassembled in
some evergreen retreat into which no British scout
could penetrate. Amidst this prodigious jungle of
vegetation the most shrewd explorer might easily
lose his way. He would be an intrepid commander,
indeed, who would lead his men into the recesses of
these forests. Swarms of ambushed foes might be
JOHN HEKE
From a sketch made by a lady resident in New Zealand during the war
101
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
lurking in the shelter of the dense foliage, within a
few feet of the track. And in the thermal region the
advantage was even more marked. Narrow paths
thrid a labyrinth of horrors. To miss the way is to
fall into a boiling spring, or to step into a hissing
cauldron of seething mud. In these fearsome districts
the Maoris were perfectly at home. Into this neigh-
bourhood, quivering with volcanic agitation, they had
but to retire at their pleasure, and they were as
secure from the assaults of their foes as though they
had crossed the ocean, or migrated to another world.
If, however, the stars in their courses seemed to be
fighting for the native cause, it must also be confessed
that the Maoris responded to the smiles of fortune
by a magnificent display of courage. Their exploits
recalled the loftiest traditions of the heroic ages, and
the purest strains of mediaeval chivalry. Again and
again our British officers doffed their helmets to the
conspicuous valour of their foes. On one occasion,
for example, some 300 Maoris were shut up in
entrenchments at a place called Orakau. "Without
food, except a few raw potatoes ; without water ;
pounded at by our artillery, and under a hail of
rifle bullets and hand grenades; unsuccessfully
assaulted no less than five times, they held out for
three days, though completely surrounded. General
Cameron humanely sent a flag of truce inviting them
to surrender honourably. To this they made the
ever famous reply: ' Heoi anol ka ivhawhai tonu ;
ake, ake, ake ! ' (' Enough ! we fight right on for ever
and ever and ever ! ') The General then offered to let
the women out. The answer was : ' The women will
fight as well as the men ! ' At length, on the after-
noon of the third day, the garrison, assembling in a
body, charged at quick march right through the
English lines, fairly jumping according to one
account over the heads of the men of the 4oth
Regiment as they lay behind the bank. So
102
By Battle-Field and Bivouac
unexpected and amazing was their charge, that they
would have got away with but slight loss had they
not, when outside the lines, been confronted by the
force of Colonial rangers and cavalry. Half of them
fell. The remainder, including the celebrated war-
chief Rewi, got clear away. The earthworks and
the victory remain with us," says the Hon. W. Pember
Reeves, from whose narrative we have quoted, " but
the glory of the engagement lay with those whose
message of ake, ake, ake ! will never be forgotten in
New Zealand."
Throughout the whole of this lamentable strife,
which continued in fitful outbreaks through many
years, the bravery of Bishop Selwyn elicited the
applause of both soldiers and civilians. Concerning
one of the earlier engagements, the Auckland limes
remarked: "His Lordship, the Bishop of New
Zealand, was an active witness and participator in this
business ; and it is only due to him to record that it is
impossible for the rapture of praise to exceed that
with which every tongue loads him. Fearless in the
very midst of the contest, Dr. Selwyn sought to allay
the heat of blood and to arrest the fury of the fight.
He was also seen bearing the wounded from the field ;
afterwards, unwearied, he was at the bedside of the
dying. Much more than this, he was the nurse, and
the surgeon, and the servant of the sick as well as
their spiritual attendant."
During the most anxious days of the war, the
Bishop displayed a sleepless vigilance which amazed
everybody. He really seemed ubiquitous. With a
switt perception that almost amounted to intuition
he bewildered even military experts by his accurate
knowledge of movements afoot elsewhere. More than
once he rushed, half-clothed, into some little bush
settlement at dead of night. In his hand was a
ballarat an impromptu lantern, consisting ot an
inverted bottle with the bottom broken oft, and a
103
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
candle fixed in the neck. " The Maoris are coming !
the Maoris are coming ! " he cried, as he beat Upon
the door of every house and hut. In his strong arms
he would carry the aged folk and tender children,
until the entire population of the village had been
safely transferred to some secure hospice in the depths
of the neighbouring bush. An hour later the village
would be in the hands of a horde of angry natives,
whilst the skies were lurid with the glare of the burn-
ing houses. There are many still living who grate-
fully remember the Bishop as having saved their lives
in this way, in the days of their defenceless infancy.
When the war was actually raging, Dr. Selwyn con-
fined his attention to the affected area. Only during
periods of truce did he continue his expeditions
through the more remote portions of his see. At one
stage of the strife he made it a practice to hold a
Sunday morning service at a certain Redoubt, and
then to ride on from camp to camp, conducting seven
or eight services in the course of the day. " There
was rather a high ridge along which the Bishop had to
ride between the two Redoubts. For the space of
two miles it was exposed to the fire of the Maoris in
the bush below. The Bishop rode at full canter.
The officers used to watch him with their field-glasses.
They would see a puff of smoke, and hear a ' ping,'
look at the Bishop galloping along, and say : ' It's all
right; they've missed him!' This occurred fre-
quently."
The Rev. S. W. Payne, R.N., an army chaplain
engaged with the British regiments in New Zealand,
gives the following graphic description of the variety
of the duties which the Bishop imposed upon himself
in those stirring days : " Dr. Selwyn was taking me
one day," he says, " from the Queen's Redoubt to the
Headquarters, along a road through dense bush, said
to be infested with Maoris, and by which no officer
was allowed to travel without an escort, but he
104
By Battle- Field and Bivouac
would not hamper himself with one. We came to a
part of the road on the side of a steep hill full of deep
ruts. He told me to pull up and hold his horse.
He dismounted and set to work to fill up the
ruts, saying, as he laboured, that the waggons for
provisioning the troops might get capsized. I was
reminded of the good Samaritan, as this, like the road
from Jerusalem to Jericho, had the title of 'the
bloody way.' Farther on we came to a place where
a company of the i8th Royal Irish were stationed.
They were not remarkable for sobriety, and as we
were passing the stockade, the Bishop saw a man
lying drunk without anything on his head. He
dismounted and dragged him a considerable distance,
until he placed him under the shelter of a tree,
remarking to me, ' Those men do not know the danger
of sunstroke.' "
Not once, nor twice, but hundreds of times in those
trying and eventful years he took his life in his hand
that he might minister to both Maoris and English-
men, when they were ranged in hostile camps. " I
have been," he wrote later, " in every action that I
could possibly reach. It was my rule to minister to
the wounded natives as well as to the British. They
were both part of my Christian charge, were one in
Christ, and therefore one to Christ's minister. Indeed,
I always ministered to the fallen Maori first, to give
a practical answer to their charge against me of
forsaking and betraying them. It was needful that
I should be in the midst of each fray and between the
two fires, but I was never hurt. I lay on the ground
at night and shared soldier's fare ; but to this hour I
know not the touch of rheumatism."
It was, however, with a heavy heart that Dr. Selwyn
continued his great work amidst such scenes as these.
Whilst here, he was able to save the lives of a handful
of settlers ; and whilst there, he was able to command,
by his distinguished valour, the almost superstitious
105
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
reverence of the British troops, none knew better than
he that every gun fired was the death-knell of some of
his most cherished aspirations. This fury of shot and
shell was demolishing, not merely palisades and
entrenchments, but that greater work which, through
the years, he had so carefully devised and so patiently
prosecuted. He knew that the turbulent passions
excited by the conflict had, in hundreds of instances,
usurped those holier sentiments which he had been at
such pains to instil. He thought of those upon whose
heads he had fondly laid his hands in confirmation,
and he trembled for them as he reflected on the
scenes of carnage in which they were now engrossed.
He remembered the sacred stillness and the hallowed
hush of those great Communion services, when vast
multitudes of native converts had received at his
hands, in uttermost humility, the emblems of redeem-
ing love ; and his heart ached as he thought of the
scattering processes which the war had precipitated.
In thousands of cases the sight of blood operated
upon the members of the native churches as the scent
of wine operates upon a reformed drunkard. Some
there were, as we shall see, who maintained, unsoiled,
the purity of their Christian profession. But as
against these there were, alas ! very many who
suffered a terrible and irretrievable relapse.
Perhaps the most painful element in the whole
melancholy business was the extent to which the
Bishop was misunderstood, and his best deeds
misconstrued, by those whom, above all others, he
was most anxious to serve. The Maoris, notwith-
standing all the proofs which he had given them of
his devotion, could not overlook the fact that he was
a white man, and that all the prejudices of his
patriotism ranged him with their foes. Mr. Tucker
quotes from "an English officer in high command"
a striking instance of the tragic manner in which
the conduct of the Bishop was exposed to misinter-
106
By Battle-Field and Bivouac
pretation. " One day," he says, " after a hard fight
between the English and the natives in and around
the swamp, our men had driven off the main body of
the natives, and the Colonel was returning to his
quarters in the evening, inwardly thanking God that
he had escaped without a scratch, when he met the
Bishop going towards the swamp.
" ' What are you after, my lord ? ' asked the Colonel.
"'Going to look for the wounded,' replied the Bishop.
" ' Oh, but there are a good many natives in the
swamp to look after them.'
" ' I don't know that,' said the Bishop, and tramped
on towards the swamp. The officer could not let him
go alone, so he turned back and accompanied him to
the scene of the late action. The Bishop led the way
among the toi-toi grass and called out in Maori :
"'Any wounded men here?'
"'Bang.bang!' was the sharp reply from several rifles.
" ' All right,' said the Bishop ; ' and now let us go
into the other part where the firing was hottest.'
" Off they went, and again the Bishop cried out :
" ' Any wounded men here ? '
" ' Tenet ahau / ' ( ' Yes, here am I ! ') a weak, thin
voice replied.
" They made their way towards him, picked him up,
and carried him off the field on a check shepherd's
plaid that one of them had. They had several miles
to go before they could reach the Redoubt and get
his wound attended to. As they were going, they
fell in with two soldiers making for the camp, and got
them to take turns occasionally in carrying the man,
while the Colonel and the Bishop carried the men's
rifles. Some natives saw the Bishop carrying a rifle,
and spread a report that he had fought against them.
This poisoned their minds against him for two years
or more. At last, on the occasion of a great meeting
of natives, some speaker denounced the Bishop as
one of their foes, when up got the wounded Maori
107
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
and told his people the true story ; and then all their
bitterness and hostility turned to admiration and
gratitude."
Such episodes, however, did not always reach so
felicitous a termination, and irreparable damage was
done to the work by the malice which the war
engendered, and the misconceptions to which it gave
rise. The Maoris found it hard to believe that the
Bishop could sleep in the tent of their hated enemy,
eat at the white man's table, and kneel in tears by the
English soldier's deathbed, and yet remain, as truly
as before the war broke out, the dark man's friend.
Nothing in the whole sad history of the campaign
caused the Bishop more anguish of spirit than this
pitiful and yet pardonable estrangement. Nor was
the misunderstanding confined to the natives. Again
and again he was received by the settlers with
hostile demonstrations, on account of the friendship
he had shown to the Maoris. In the Taranaki
Herald of 22nd August, 1855, f r example, we come
upon sentences which sound strangely, now that
history has pronounced its deliberate and
dispassionate verdict. "Bishop Selwyn," says the
paper, "is again lending his blighting influence to
New Zealand, has again taken the murderer by the
hand as he did the perpetrators of the Wairau
massacre. It is reserved for the Bishop of New
Zealand to use his undoubted influence to shield
notorious criminals from justice, when those criminals
appeal to his sympathies through the medium 01 a
dark skin." The Bishop, however, remembered that
the critics of Galilee had heaped similar censures
upon his Master. He also had been charged with too
great intimacy with sinners, and His servant could
afford to regard the indictment with equanimity.
He was fortunate in the possession of a most
extiaordinary faculty for overcoming the hostility of
his adversaries of both colours, and of binding them
1 08
By Battle-Field and Bivouac
to himself as lifelong friends. On one occasion he
was compelled to make his way from the wharf to a
Post Office in Taranaki, accompanied by a hooting
and abusive crowd. He quickly captivated the mob
by his easy manner, and his perfect willingness to
debate the whole question with them, and many who
came to hiss and groan remained to applaud and cheer.
Among the natives the same thing happened
constantly. Towards the end of the year, during a
lull in which it was half hoped that the last shot had
been fired, the Bishop set off on one of his long
overland tours of visitation. He fearlessly invaded,
alone and unarmed, the territory in which the most
disaffected of the Maoris resided. At one village he
found that a fanatical prophet had urged the people
to show no kindness to the Bishop, and had
particularly instructed them not to receive him into
their houses. " If he come," cried the enthusiast,
" offer him a pigsty for his lodging ; it is good
enough ! " When the Bishop arrived, they carried out
their teacher's instructions to the letter. The pig-
sty was offered and accepted ! The Bishop quietly
turned out the pigs, went off to the bush to gather
some fern to litter down for his bed, and then made
himself cosy in his singular episcopal hostel. The
Maoris watched his philosophical behaviour with the
utmost amazement, and exclaimed: "You cannot
whaka-tutua that man ! " that is to say : " You
cannot degrade his character as a gentleman ! " When
Professor Selwyn, the Bishop's brother, heard of the
episode, he penned the following amusing lines :
" A Johnian Bishop in New Zealand wood,
Finding no host to give him bed or food,
Was kindly lodged by two of porcine breed,
Who left their straw to rest his weary head.
But hark ! returning at the dead of night,
A friendly grunt is heard upon the right,
And, on the left, a snout salutes his cheek,
Which moved the chaplain in great wrath to speak :
IOQ
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
Ho, friends and Maoris : this is infra dig
Our Bishop's cheek insulted by a pig !
He must be killed and cooked ! The Bishop smiled
And said : My friends, in judgment be more mild.
These pigs have been my friends, have lodged me well,
And of their kindness I shall often tell,
And for the kiss you do not understand 'em,
It is the pig's admission ad eundemj"
It was in the course of the same eventful tour that
another remarkable experience befell him, which
conclusively demonstrates his wonderful presence of
mind in dealing with the most threatening combina-
tions of hostile circumstances. It happened that at
about this time the Governor had issued an edict
making it illegal for the natives to have arms or
ammunition in their possession. This had led Renata,
a friendly and very influential chief, to address a
dignified protest to the British Commissioner, in which
he alleged that it savoured of cowardice on the part
of the white men to attempt to disarm their enemies.
In presenting this document, he delivered a speech,
with great intensity and dramatic power, in which he
exclaimed: "My custom with regard to my enemy
is : if he have not- a weapon, I give him one, that we
may fight on equal terms. Now, O Governor, are you
not ashamed of my defenceless hands?" This speech
had great influence with the natives ; and the closing
question was constantly quoted with enthusiastic
admiration and profound approval.
Whilst Renata's great oration was still fresh in the
minds of his hearers a new sensation arose. An
English carter and his boy were found murdered near
the village of Omata. The tragedy occurred just as
the Bishop was entering the district. One niylit
Dr. Selwyn found himself seated, with a group of
fierce-looking natives, round a blazing fire in one of
the whares. The conversation turned on ghost stories,
supernatural premonitions, portents and presentiments.
The Maoris recited many of their weird legends and
no
By Battle-Field and Bivouac
traditions. In return the Bishop offered to entertain
them. " You have told me many strange things," he
said, " now I will tell you a ghost story ! " The group
was hushed into silence in a second, and the Bishop
began : " Once upon a time a man dreamed a strange
dream. He seemed to be sitting, with a large party,
round a huge fire, when suddenly out of the flames
there rose up the figure of a great and noble chief.
And the chief spake and said : ' O Governor, if I
had an enemy, and he had no weapon, I would give
him one before we fought. O Governor, are you not
ashamed of my defenceless hands ? ' and he stretched
those helpless hands out before them. And in the
dream the people round the fire all applauded the
brave words of the great chief who had risen from
the flames. And even as they clapped he vanished ;
and lo ! another form arose from out of the fire. The
second figure was that of a little English boy. His
face was very pale, and it was hideously smeared with
blood. In his hand he held a bullock-whip. And
then very, very slowly he also stretched out his
hands to the Maoris round the fire, and asked : ' Are
you not ashamed of my defenceless hands ? ' Then he,
too, vanished ; and the man who dreamed the dream
awoke!" The Bishop's companions implored him to
interpret the strange story. But they showed from
their demeanour that they understood it perfectly well.
They rose from the fireside and silently retired
to rest. Next day they spread the Bishop's wonderful
ghost story among all the neighbouring tribes ;
and on the following night there was no bivouac or
camp fire in the district at which it did not find an echo.
If, however, as a general rule, the war disorganised
the work, and led to the relapse of some of the most
promising converts, it also provided abundant evidence
that the teaching of the Bishop, and of the missionaries,
had made a most deep and lasting impression.
It happened that, during the later phases of the
in
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
struggle, General Cameron and his men were encamped
on the banks of the Waikato. The troops were
woefully short of provisions. The Maoris held a very
strong position at Meri-meri, farther up the river,
and an attack was apprehended at any moment.
One day several large canoes were seen coming
round the bend of the river ; and Colonel Austin
went down to reconnoitre. To his surprise he dis-
covered that, instead of being crowded with fierce and
tattooed warriors, they were loaded with milch goats
and potatoes. The British officers asked for an
explanation. " We heard," replied the Maoris, " that
you hungered. The book which the missionaries
brought us says : If thine enemy hunger, feed him !
You are our enemies, you hunger ; we feed you ; that
is all ! " And the canoes put off on their return
journey to Meri-meri, as though nothing extra-
ordinary had happened;
It was quite a common thing, when traversing the
scene of a recent engagement, and performing the
last ministries to the dead, to find a Maori gospel or
prayer-book in the haversacks of the fallen warriors a
mute witness to their association with the Bishop, and
an eloquent testimony to the depth of the impression
he had made.
But, perhaps, the most notable instance of Christian
behaviour which illumined the long agony of the war
was that provided by the magnificent courage and
splendid self-effacement of Henare Turatoa. Henare
had been for some eight years a student at St. John's
College at Auckland, and had there come into the
closest personal touch with the Bishop. Dr. Selwyn
was not quite satisfied, however, that he possessed all
the qualifications that are required in a minister of
the Gospel. He was excitable, impulsive, and easily
swayed. Fearful lest, in some sudden gust of tempta-
tion, he should betray the truth, the Bishop advised
him to abandon all thought of the ministry, and to
112
By Battle-Field and Bivouac
devote himself, in private life, to the dissemination of
Christian influence. It fell to his lot, twelve years
afterwards, to defend the celebrated Gate Pa against
the terrific assaults of our British regiments. Time after
time our forces thundered down upon the pa, and were
as often successfully resisted. After one of these furious
onslaughts, several British officers were left wounded
inside the entrenchments. By the side of one of
them, on whose face death had already stamped his
claim, Henare watched, all through the dreary night,
with the tenderness of a woman. Towards morning
the dying soldier feebly moaned for water. Not a
drop was to be had within thefla. The nearest spring
was beyond the line of British sentries. Without
pausing for a moment Henare rose, left the pa, crept
out, wormed himself like a serpent through the fern,
until, stealthily, and at the risk of his life, he passed
the sentries, as they paced restlessly to and fro.
Reaching the spring, he filled his calabash with water,
and set out upon his perilous return. Half an hour
later he was again stooping over his prostrate foe,
moistening his parched lips with the precious drops
which he had obtained at the hazard of his life; and
at the same time pouring into his dying ears the
deathless consolations of the Christian Gospel.
A day or two afterwards the British again, and this
time successfully, stormed the pa. Henare and his
brave followers were driven out, and slowly retreat-
ing with their faces to the foe, were everyone of them
impaled upon British bayonets. When Henare's body
was searched, there was found upon his person a
strange document in his own language, and in his
own handwriting. It was headed : " Orders for the
Day." It began with a form of prayer ; it contained
the plans for the day's warfare ; and it ended with the
sentence : If thine enemy hunger, feed him ; if he
thirst, give him to drink ! These words, being in such
uncompromising antagonism to those principles of
8 113
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
revenge which had for centuries dominated the Maori
race, created a deep and singular impression upon
the native mind, and were repeatedly quoted by the
converts in the trying days of the war.
When at last the horror was ended and peace pro-
claimed, the Bishop was publicly presented with the
medal, which was ordinarily given only to military
officers, as a token of the admiration everywhere felt
for the bravery he had displayed. Moreover, the
officers and men, to whom he had so tirelessly
ministered, resolved to present him with some
tangible token of their appreciation. All those whom
he had assisted in the hour of emergency, whose
lives he had saved in the time of peril, whom he had
nursed in sickness, or, when wounded, borne to
shelter, subscribed liberally to this " Thank-offering."
Numerous pathetic donations came also from fond
but sorrowing parents, whose soldier sons came not
back from the far-off land, but whose pillows had been
smoothed and softened in death by the Bishop's
kindly touch. The Bishop eventually spent this money
in adorning the private chapel at Lichfield ; and in
doing so he was careful to immortalise the magnificent
valour of his old friend and student, Henare Turatoa.
The designs of the various windows all represent the
nobler qualities of a military life, and most of them
stand in some way associated with the campaign in
New Zealand. Here, for instance, is a representation
of a globe, with a scroll reaching from England to
New Zealand, bearing the legend : " One in Christ."
But the window that will always enchain the attention
of visitors is that on the south side. It represents
David pouring upon the ground the water which, at
the risk of their lives, his three mighty men had
brought him ; and is intended to comemmorate the
still greater heroism since, in his case, the deed was
performed for an enemy that will always be
associated with the name of Henare Turatoa.
114
CHAPTER VI
CORAL REEFS AND CANNIBAL ISLANDS
" O prophets, martyrs, saviours ! ye were great,
All truth being great to you ; ye deemed Man more
Than a dull jest, God's ennui to amuse ;
The world for you held purport ; Life ye wore
Proudly, as kings their solemn robes of state ;
And humbly, as the mightiest monarchs use."
WILLIAM WATSON,
A S soon as Dr. Selwyn had thoroughly explored
** the whole of that stupendous diocese, which it
was in the minds of the English dignitaries that he
should control, he began to consider the claims of
that still larger see which a clerical error had assigned
to him. It will be remembered that, in drawing up
the Letters Patent in connection with his appointment,
the Crown solicitors had defined the diocese as
lying between the 5Oth degree of south latitude and
the 34th degree north! He himself saw this, but
said nothing, delighted that it would give him the
right, should he care to avail himself of it, of extend-
ing his work among the countless islands that stud
the broad Pacific.
In 1848 he was offered the position of temporary
chaplain on H.M.S. Dido. An unfortunate outbreak
of hostilities had occurred at the Graville Islands,
and Sir George Grey had requested Captain Maxwell
to proceed to the scene of the disturbance. At the
moment affairs in New Zealand had assumed a more
hopeful outlook. The war seemed to have been
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
quelled. The native church was thoroughly organised.
The Bishop had visited every part of the country ;
and Captain Maxwell's offer seemed like a providen-
tial opportunity of sowing the precious seed in more
distant fields. In the nature of the case, it could only
be a flying visit ; but the Bishop learned much in
this brief expedition which he turned to practical
account in his later and more prolonged voyages.
He discovered, among other things, that the natives
of a given island are pretty much what their visitors
make them. After having called at the Friendly,
Navigator, and New Hebrides groups, the Dido
dropped her anchor off the Isle of Pines. The Bishop
prepared to go ashore, but Captain Maxwell reminded
him that the extreme barbarism of the natives had
won for the island a very evil notoriety, and urged
him to remain on board. In spite of all the argu-
ments of the gallant commander, however, the Bishop
persisted in his determination, borrowed a boat, and
was soon rowing for the lagoon. Imagine his astonish-
ment when, on turning a bend of the bay, he saw, lying
quietly at anchor in a sequestered nook, an English
schooner ! On deck lounged a solitary sailor, smok-
ing his pipe, and altogether so very much at his ease
that it was clear that he was not tortured by any
apprehensions as to the character of the natives.
" Why, how is this ? " asked the Bishop from his
boat ; " they tell me that this is one of the worst
islands in the Pacific ; yonder lies a British man-of-
war afraid to come nearer, and yet you seem to be
enjoying yourself to your heart's content ! " In a few
moments the owner, Captain Paddon, who had been
ashore trafficking with the natives for sandalwood,
returned to the ship. To him the Bishop again
propounded his problem. The captain chuckled
good-humouredly and replied : " I have been trading
with these people for many years. They have cut me
many thousands of feet of sandalwood, and brought
116
Coral Reefs and Cannibal Islands
it to me on the schooner. I have shown them such
kindness as I could. I have always dealt with them
in perfect fairness, and they have treated me in the same
way. We most thoroughly understand each other."
This trivial incident, which enshrined a whole world
of philosophy, made a lasting impression on Dr.
Selwyn's mind ; and in his own subsequent voyages
he was often emboldened to approach the most
repulsive people by the memory of Captain Paddon's
experience. The episode led, moreover, to a lifelong
friendship between the two men. The captain was
often able to assist the Bishop with valuable advice
as to the surest method of securing a friendly footing
on certain islands ; whilst in a really remarkable and
unexpected way the Bishop was able to serve the
genial mariner. It happened thus. His great
admiration for Dr. Selwyn led Captain Paddon to
name one of his schooners The Bishop. A few years
later the name of the Bishop had come to be regarded
with genuine reverence and extraordinary affection
on many islands at which Captain Paddon had never
called. But when at length it suited his purpose to
direct his helm towards these strange peoples, he was
often amused and delighted to find that the very name
of his schooner secured for him a profuse and
boisterous welcome. Indeed, it is evident that the
name of " Bishop " came to be regarded with almost
superstitious veneration on these beauteous but
dreaded isles. When Captain Denham, of H.M.S.
Herald, landed on a remote group, and set up his
theodolites for purposes of survey, the natives instantly
assumed a threatening and warlike attitude. The
captain, however, chanced to remark to one of his
officers that a certain native was suffering from a gash
apparently inflicted with a fish-hook. The savages
mistook the word fish-hook for bishop, and supposing
that the officers of the Herald were in some way
related to their popular benefactor, they immediately
117
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
changed their behaviour and made most courteous
offers of assistance. The Bishop's stalwart and
muscular frame had in itself a fascination for these
wild children of nature. After the consecration of
Bishop Patteson, Bishop Selwyn was strolling along
the seashore, arm-in-arm with Bishops Hobhouse and
Abraham ; all three were of fine and stately build.
A group of Melanesian boys, squatting on the sand,
gazed upon the trio with undisguised admiration. At
last one of them exclaimed : " Bishop Hobhouse is a big
strong man ; and Bishop Abraham is a big strong man ;
but our Bishop could throw both of them into the sea ! "
But this was later on. The Dido again cast anchor
in New Zealand waters on March 4th, 1848. The tour
had occupied only nine weeks ; but the Bishop always
referred to it as a most valuable introduction to the
untamed life of the Pacific. Moreover, he had seen
just enough to fill him with an irrepressible desire to
set out upon a more leisurely cruise among those
peoples of whom he had caught but a passing glimpse.
He had already made practical use of those lessons
in navigation which he received from the captain of
the Tomatin on his voyage out from home. In the
little Flying Fish^ tiny schooner of seventeen tons
burden he had coasted along the rugged shores of
New Zealand, and passed to the islands in the
immediate vicinity. In course of time, as he plumed
his wings for farther flight, the Flying Fish gave place
to the Undine, a schooner of twenty-two tons burden.
In this modest craft, with a crew of four men, many
of his most eventful voyages were made. Within
three weeks of his return on the Dido he set out with
the Undine on a visit to the extreme south of New
Zealand, and to the Chatham Islands. On his return
the log of the schooner showed that, during his
absence of fourteen weeks, he had sailed 3000 miles,
and called at quite a multitude of places. In all his
voyagings he earned the reputation of being a careful
118
Coral P^eefs and Cannibal Islands
yet intrepid navigator ; and the captain of a merchant-
man once remarked to a New Zealand clergyman that
" it almost made him a Christian and a Churchman to
see the Bishop bring his schooner into harbour ! "
The Bishop used to glory in telling a story of an
experience that befell him during one of those
fluctuations of public feeling, in which he was the
object of a great deal of unpopularity. Those who
knew nothing of the discomforts of navigating strange
waters in a wretchedly overcrowded little schooner
of twenty tons, used to attribute his nautical pro-
pensities to a "fondness for yachting!" Late one
evening the Undine anchored at Wellington. The
Bishop immediately went ashore in a dinghy, and
overheard an interesting conversation on the beach.
" What's that schooner that has just come in? "one
man called to another. " Oh," replied his comrade,
" it's that old fool, the Bishop ! " At that moment the
dinghy grounded on the shore ; the Bishop sprang
out, rubbing his hands and chuckling as he added,
"Yes, and here's the old fool himself!"
Every day, however, increased the Bishop's
impatience for another vision of the fronded palms of
his tropical outposts. Writing to a friend in England,
he said : " My visit to the Isle of Pines, though only
of a few hours' duration, has left upon my mind the
deep conviction that an effort there would not be in
vain, and that the spiritual conquest of that little
island would open the way to New Caledonia, and its
adjacent islands of the Loyalty Group. This is the
point upon which the missionary energies of the New
Zealand Church ought to be bestowed as a sign of its
own vitality, in giving to others freely what it has
freely received. The most frightful crimes of rapine
and massacre are now being committed by the very
people who received Captain Cook seventy years ago
with a friendly disposition beyond that even of the
people of the ' Friendly Islands.' The change must
U9
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
be attributed to the fact that we have followed up our
first knowledge of New Caledonia with the most
sordid and unscrupulous schemes of avarice, instead of
sending out men with the heart of Cook, and with
the powers and graces of the ministerial calling. The
young men of the College begged me, before my
voyage in the Dido, to accept their assurance that, if
I should discover any opening where their services
might be more required than in New Zealand, they
held themselves in readiness to answer to the call."
Accordingly, on 1st August, 1849, the Undine, with
all sail set, glided gracefully out of Auckland harbour.
The Bishop paced his quarter-deck with all the con-
fidence of an old salt, delighted at being able at last
to point his prow towards those coral reefs and
cannibal islands whose bread-fruits and cocoanut
palms seemed to wave and beckon to him from
beyond the distant horizon. Through heavy seas and
adverse weather the tiny craft bravely ploughed her
way and, in spite of unfriendly elements, completed
the run of 1000 miles to Anaiteum on the tenth day
out from Auckland. Here the Presbyterian mission-
aries were hard at work, and Dr. Selwyn made no
attempt to disguise his admiration of their magnificent
enterprise. Indeed, the Bishop's relations with the
Scottish missionaries on the New Hebrides group
may serve as an apt illustration of that broad-minded
catholicity which always characterised him. He
appreciated to the fullest extent the labours of
representatives of other Churches.
When, a few years later, that devoted and
apostolic labourer, Dr. J. G. Paton, was mourning on
these islands the sudden loss of his young wife, Dr.
Selwyn counted it an honour to be numbered among
his comforters. " Soon after her death," wrote Dr.
Paton, " the good Bishop Selwyn called in his Mission
ship. He came to visit me, accompanied by the Rev.
J. C. Patteson. They had met Mrs. Paton on
1 20
" THE UNDINE "
THE CABIN OF " THE UNDINE "
From sketches by Bishop Selwyn
121
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
Anaiteum the previous year ; and as she was then
the picture of perfect health, they also felt her loss
very keenly. Standing with me beside the grave of
mother and child, I weeping aloud on the one hand,
and Patteson afterwards the Martyr Bishop of
Melanesia sobbing silently on the other, the godly
Bishop Selwyn poured out his heart to God amidst
sobs and tears, during which he laid his hands on my
head and invoked Heaven's richest consolations and
blessings on me and my trying labours. The virtue
of that kind of episcopal consecration I did, and
do, most warmly appreciate."
Some time afterwards, when Dr. Paton was
subjected to severe criticism for remaining among
his savages during a period of special peril, Dr.
Selwyn was his most vigorous defender. " Talk of
bravery ! talk of heroism ! " exclaimed the Bishop,
" the man who leads a forlorn hope is a coward in
comparison with him who, alone, and without a
sustaining look, or cheering word, from any of his
own race, regards it as his duty to hold on in the face
of such dangers. He might, with honour, have
accepted a temporary asylum in Auckland, where he
would have been heartily received. But he was
moved by higher considerations. He chose to remain,
and God knows whether at this moment he is in the
land of the living!"
When the Bishop told his friends of Dr. Paton's
heroic refusal to leave the islands on H.M.S. Pelorus,
he added : " And I like him all the better for so
doing ! " The journals of Dr. Paton and his colleagues
abound in acknowledgments of kindnesses conferred,
and services rendered by the Bishop in the course of
his visits to the New Hebrides islands.
Whilst weatherbound at Anaiteum, the Undine fell
in with H.M.S. Havannah. Captain Erskine, of the
man-of-war, was greatly impressed with the Bishop's
enterprise, and amazed when he learned that he allowed
122
Coral Reefs and Cannibal Islands
the most dangerous savages to come on board at their
will. The commander could only account for the
Bishop's safety by attributing it to " that perfect
presence of mind and dignified bearing of Dr. Selwyn
which seemed never to fail in impressing these
savages with a feeling of his superiority ; this alone
could render such an act one of safety and prudence."
The Bishop conducted service on the Havannah.
Lady Shaftesbury received a letter from her son, who
was on board, in which he said : " I was never so
struck with anybody's preaching as with his. The
effect on the men was quite electrical ; and I could
have listened to him for hours."
From Anaiteum the Undine sailed away to the
New Caledonian and other islands. The Bishop was
sufficiently astute to recognise the immense value of
a pleasant introduction to these untamed races. He
therefore carefully matured his plans. He made it
his custom before leaving the ship to ascertain, if
possible, the name of the principal chief on the island.
He would then swim ashore, never on any account
allowing anyone else to share the peril with him. On
reaching the sandy beach, or coral crags, he called
aloud the name of the chief. When that dignitary
arrived, the Bishop would smilingly present him with
a tomahawk, holding out his hands at the same time
for the chief's bow and arrows. These he would at
once lay upon the ground, a proceeding to which the
chief would usually respond by sending the tomahawk
away to the rear. These pacific overtures happily
concluded, Dr. Selwyn would play with the children,
pat them on the head, and distribute among them a
quantity of fish-hooks and brightly coloured tapes,
which he had ingeniously stored in his hat before
taking to the water. Here his conquest was usually
complete. These wild children of Nature were
invariably captivated by his easy and yet princely
manner, He made them feel at once that he loved
123
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
them and desired nothing but their welfare. "At
one savage place," we are told, " he was eyed suspici-
ously at first ; but he brought forward one of his own
black boys, nicely clothed and able to read, and
pulling out his fat cheeks, he pointed to the lantern
jaws of a little native, making them understand that
he would feed up any of their children they would let
him take. When they saw him poking his fingers
into the hollow cheeks of the one, and pulling out the
fat of the other, they danced and shouted with joy at
the fun, and would have let him carry off dozens."
In these and other ways for he could adapt his
methods with lightning rapidity to suit the exigencies
of time, or place, or people he swiftly ingratiated
himself in the goodwill of the natives, and was
allowed to bear off one or more lads for training in
his College in New Zealand.
For this was his plan. He saw that, in the brief
periods which he could snatch from his main work in
New Zealand, it would be absurd to attempt serious
evangelistic work among the islands. It would take
years to acquire the languages, understand the
customs, and overcome the prejudices of the islanders.
But by taking representative children from their sea-
girt homes, educating, and, if possible, Christianising
them at his own College, he hoped to be able to send
them back to their original homes as native preachers
and evangelists, fully equipped and qualified to win
their own people for Christ. In the course of this first
voyage, the Bishop contrived to persuade the natives
of five different islands to confide children to his care.
The men on the Havannah were greatly amused at
Dr. Selwyn's strange collection of specimens. Here
is the entry in the log of the warship recording her
last glimpse of the schooner :
"At 5 P.M. we weighed, and ran out of the roads,
admiring, as we passed and waved adieu to the Undine,
the commanding figure of the truly gallant Bishop of
124
Coral Reefs and Cannibal Islands
New Zealand as, steering his own little vessel, he
stood surrounded by the black heads of his diciples."
After an absence of exactly three months, the
Undine returned to Auckland. Nobody had ex-
pected him back quite so soon ; but the doors had
been left unbolted and the Bishop burst in. He
aroused Mrs. Selwyn by exclaiming : " I've got them !
I've got them ! " and pointing to the group of black
faces by which he was attended. " It was," as Mr.
Tucker remarks, " a triumph for which to be thankful ;
the five wild little islanders were the forerunners of
the indigenous clergy of Melanesia."
The flutter of excitement within the precincts of
St. John's College caused by this sudden invasion of
young savages from the Pacific can be better imagined
than described. Unhappily, one of .them, a boy
named Thol, from the island of Lifu, became very ill.
Mrs. Selwyn, in writing to her son William, who had
gone to England to study, thus refers to him : " He
lies in the library, and we all take care of him, and
wonder to see one, who has been so little taught,
behave so well. On the table lies a list of Lifu
words, which we learn from him, and with these, and
the English he has picked up, we can converse a little.
He made me laugh to-day by suddenly asking if nurse
would ' fight him ' if he had a cocoanut. He meant,
of course, if she would be angry. He wants to have
a large ship, and take a great many of us to Lifu ;
but especially is Johnny to go ; and there, he says,
his mother will carry Johnny on her back and give
him 'too much sugar-cane.' The other islanders
look strange enough because of their dark skins and
yellow hair. Their names are Siapo, Uliete, and
Kateingo ; and there is also a boy named Thallup,
trom the Isle of Pines. They all appear to be very
happy, only they would like it better if they could
get sea-water to drink."
The sick little inmate of St. John's College was
125
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
giving early evidence of the gift of prophecy when he
playfully said that " Johnny must go to Lifu ! " For
" Johnny " did go, as the world knows very well, in
the capacity of Bishop of Melanesia.
Of these five lads, one, and he the best pupil, was
destined never to prosecute that work for which he
spent some years in preparation. Poor Siapo died at
Auckland in 1853. The Bishop was absent at the
time, and, on a lovely Sunday afternoon, was walking
with his friend the Governor, Sir George Grey.
Finishing their stroll they entered a tent, followed by
a messenger bearing dispatches. Each sat down to
open his budget of correspondence. One letter,
addressed to Dr. Selwyn, brought the news of the
death of poor Siapo, the Loyalty islander. Over-
come with grief, the Bishop burst into tears. Then,
turning to the Governor, he exclaimed : " Why, you
who knew Siapo too have not shed a single tear ! "
" No," replied Sir George, " I have been so wrapped
in thought that I could not weep. I have been
thinking of the prophecy that men of every nation,
and kindred, and people, and tongue were to meet in
the kingdom of heaven. I have tried to imagine the
joy and wonder prevailing there at the coming of
Siapo, the first Christian of his race. He would be
glad evidence that another people of the world had
been added to the teaching of Christ." " Yes, yes,"
said the Bishop, " you are right ; you are right ; that
is the true idea to entertain ; I shall weep no more ! "
In May, 1850, the first batch of young Melanesians
were happily restored to their island homes ; and in
December of the same year four new disciples
arrived under somewhat unusual conditions. They
had implored Captain Erskine, of H.M.S. Havannah,
to take them on board that they might go to the
Bishop's school. Indeed, one had himself clambered
on to the deck, and refused to move unless he were
taken. Two of these were from Erromango, on which
126
I2 7
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
island the heroic John Williams had already laid
down his life for the sake of the Gospel ; one was from
the Solomon Group, and one from Sandwich Island.
In September the Bishop sailed for Sydney, to
attend a Synod that may be regarded as the path-
finder of all those imposing Pan-Anglican Congresses
and Synods that have since assembled in various
parts of the world. At this Assembly the Australian
Board of Missions was formed, and two most
important resolutions were reached. These were :
(i) That a larger vessel, the Border Maid, of 100 tons,
should be secured as a Mission vessel in place of the
little Undine ; and (2) that on her maiden trip Bishop
Tyrrell, of Newcastle, should have the honour of
accompanying Bishop Selwyn. The Rev. William
Nihill, who had been engaged as teacher of the Melan-
esian boys at St. John's College, and his young brother-
in-law, Nelson Hector, were also to be of the party.
The Border Maid sailed in July, 1851, on this
memorable voyage. The four Melanesian boys
brought by the Havannah were on board, on their
way back to their several homes. With more ample
accommodation, and with a larger staff, it was now
possible to conduct classes on board ; and thus the
work of St. John's College was really continued uninter-
rupted until the very hour of the students' landing.
On arrival at Malicolo a distinctly unpleasant
experience awaited the party. Going ashore they
were treated with every consideration, and they
engaged to return on the following morning to
replenish their water-barrels. Accordingly, next day,
Bishop Selwyn conducted his party ashore, taking
with him Nelson Hector, whom he left in charge of
the boat whilst he himself went for the water. The
company was thus divided into three sections :
Bishop Tyrrell being on the ship, Nelson Hector on
the beach, and Bishop Selwyn inland after water.
They nad no sooner separated than each clearly
128
Coral Reefs and Cannibal Islands
perceived that a change had enveloped the scene.
The natives were animated by a very different spirit
from that which they had displayed the previous
evening. The entire absence of women aroused
their suspicions, and other ominous signs encouraged
the most gloomy forebodings. A crowd of natives,
whose grimaces and gesticulations betrayed their
sinister purposes and malicious designs, surrounded
the ship, and Bishop Tyrrell found all the resources
of his ingenuity exercised in the defence of the vessel.
A second batch of savages assailed Nelson Hector,
brandishing their clubs, and threatening the lonely
boatman with a thousand deaths unless he immedi-
ately relinquished his oars. On shore Dr. Selwyn
was compassed about by some 200 natives in very evil
humour. It was clear to the Bishop that the islanders
had formed no actual plan of attack, or, in such
numbers, they could with the utmost ease have
overpowered and slain the voyagers of the unhappy
Border Maid. But something had evidently excited
their suspicions, if it had not actually kindled their
animosity. They were in that critical mood in which
the slightest tactical blunder on the part of the white
men would have led to a tragic calamity. Bishop
Selwyn, in a cheerful voice, instructed his men to
behave as though every condition were normal. He
led them gaily to the spring ; they filled their casks
to the brim, and then, apparently in the most leisurely
good-humour, he led them back to the boat. Here
they found the savages still " hectoring Hector " as
the Bishop playfully termed it but the white men
quietly took their places, and pulled back to the ship.
In writing to his friends of the adventure, Bishop
Tyrrell affirmed his profound conviction that, in such
crises, "nothing but Bishop Selwyn's quick-sighted
reading of character and apprehension of gestures,
his habits of order and forethought, besides his
calmness and courage, enabled him to walk un-
9 129
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
scathed where others would have been in imminent
danger."
All who saw the Bishop when he was surrounded
by hostile savages, and apparently face to face with
certain death, agree that the impressive majesty of his
bearing, the splendid stateliness of his figure, the
irresistible charm of his countenance, together with
his perfect self-possession and unfailing good-humour,
completely disarmed his most brutal antagonists, and
allowed him to walk unharmed where the most
frightful perils lurked on every side.
At Lifu the Border Maid was accorded a royal
welcome. Dr. Selwyn was saluted as " Thol's father."
Thol himself, who was at a distance from the coast,
was sent for. On his arrival this promising young
student of St. John's College begged that he might be
taken back for a second term of instruction, and that
Apale, a young relative of his, might accompany him.
A request so very much to the Bishop's taste was
of course cheerfully granted. Sad to say, however,
poor little Apale caught a severe chill from which he
died six months later. During his illness, Thol,
distracted with grief, kneeled beside him, sobbing
and moaning : " Oh, my brother ! alas, my brother ! "
as though his very heart would break. On his
deathbed, Apale dictated a letter to his father,
avowing his implicit faith in his Saviour, and his
unruffled happiness in view of death. The Bishop
himself ministered to the dying boy to the very last,
forsaking a public service that he might be present
as the soul of Apale took its flight. In conducting
the funeral service, he beautifully referred to his
lamented disciple as "the first-fruits of the church
at Lifu."
After a voyage of three months' duration, the
Border Maid reached Auckland on October 7th,
freighted with thirteen dark boys for study at St.
John's. Of these, three were returning for a further
130
Coral Reefs and Cannibal Islands
course of instruction ; the other ten were visiting New
Zealand for the first time.
In June of the following year Dr. Selwyn decided
that the time was ripe for definitely establishing a
mission at Nengone, under the care of a resident
missionary. From this island quite a number of lads
had " graduated " at St. John's ; and their presence
represented in itself a very cheering promise of a
robust native church at an early date. The Rev.
William Nihill, the intimate friend of the Bishop,
and the tutor of the boys, offered himself for this
work. For more than three years this most excellent
man laboured unceasingly at Nengone, and won, in
no ordinary degree, the heartfelt affection of the
natives. In 1855, however, he suddenly died of
dysentery, and Mrs. Nihill bravely continued the work
after his departure. In 1856 the Bishop and
Mr. Patteson visited the island. A great assembly of
natives congregated in front of the mission-house.
Then they passed in procession to the secluded and
sacred spot at which their teacher had been lain to
rest. On the way they were overflowing with
reminiscences of their departed friend his gentle
life, his gracious words, his noble and kindly deeds.
And at the grave the islanders reverently assisted
the Bishop in erecting a wooden cross on which was
inscribed, in their own language, "I AM THE RESUR-
RECTION AND THE LIFE,"
More and more every day the Bishop felt that it
would be necessary to place this great work among
the islands on a more satisfactory foundation. The
growth and development of the native church in New
Zealand had by this time reached a stage that demanded
recognition and review at headquarters. Dr. Selwyn
therefore determined to visit England. He was most
eager to look again into the face of his aged father
before death rendered such a privilege impossible.
" My dear old father's grey head," he wrote, " will be
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
the magnetic centre of our system." In view of the
increasing claims of the work, he longed for an oppor-
tunity to plead for funds with which to prosecute his
tasks with greater effect, and on a worthier scale. And
he was eager to discuss with his episcopal brethren,
and with the directors of missionary enterprise, the
complicated problems which the rapid development
of the work had forced into urgent prominence.
The opening of 1854, therefore, found the Bishop,
accompanied by Mrs. Selwyn and their second son,
John now a lad of eight hastening towards London.
He was going home principally to maintain that the
two branches of his enormous work that in New
Zealand on the one hand, and that in Melanesia on
the other had now assumed such gigantic proportions
that it was imperative that each should be regarded
as a separate see. With his boy trotting by his side, he
paced the deck of the vessel thinking out the speeches
by which he proposed to support his case before the
Bishops and Mission Boards in London. Little did
he dream that, in the person of his little companion,
who interrupted his contemplations with a thousand
questions concerning the strange objects that met his
gaze in the progress of that long voyage, he was even
then in the company of the future Bishop of Melanesia!
It is clear, however, that the digressions necessitated
by those boyish interrogations did not seriously
impair the force or cogency of the speeches. They
were delivered with overwhelming power and effect.
Although the minds of men were preoccupied and
absorbed with the anxieties of the Crimea, he simply
carried everything before him. With consummate
generalship he marshalled his splendid army of telling
facts ; whilst the impregnable strength of his case, the
pitiless logic of his argument, and the thrilling and
romantic character of his personal experiences, swept
upon his audiences with the resistless rush of a
hurricane. One young man, possessed of some
132
Coral Reefs and Cannibal Islands
;i2,ooo, came to hear him, and at the close of the
address offered every penny of his fortune to the
Bishop. Dr. Selwyn refused, however, to accept so
large an amount, offered under the generous impulse
of an enthusiasm which his own eloquence had kindled.
A number of admirers joined in subscribing funds
with which to present the Bishop with a new and
larger schooner, the Southern Cross, whilst "Miss
Charlotte M. Yonge generously ear-marked for this
THE "SOUTHERN CROSS"
Bishop Patteson is seen steering in the dinghy
purpose all profits accruing from the publication of
" The Daisy Chain."
Two of the Bishop's most congenial occupations
during his sojurn in his native land were his delightful
conversations with his aged father, and his visits of
inspection to the yards in which the Southern Cross
was being built.
The Bishop found no difficulty in convincing his
episcopal brethren of the absolute necessity of elevating
the islands into a separate see ; and under his magnetic
133
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
and inspiring influence, the sum of .10,000 was raised
in a few weeks for the endowment of the new bishopric.
Dr. Selwyn had hoped to make the return voyage
to New Zealand in the new schooner, but tiresome
delays took place in her construction, and, even when
at last she was completed, shewas found to be leaky, and
an entire and exhaustive overhaul was necessitated.
On March I5th, 1855, the Bishop wrote in his diary :
" Packed up sorrowfully." On the 22nd we read :
" Took final leave of my dearest father ; " and on the
2Qth he sailed. These second farewells as they
know well who have endured the terrible ordeal are
much more painful than the first. In Dr. Selwyn's
case the pang was particularly poignant. There
was no element of uncertainty ; he knew quite well
that he was saying good-bye to his father for the very
last time. The elder man died a few months later at the
age of eighty-one. Then, too, Dr. Selwyn was leaving
both his boys, William and John, to study in England.
The sadness of farewell was therefore aggravated for
the Bishop by many contributing circumstances.
One of the most valuable results of this visit to
England was the strengthening of the Bishop's staff,
which was powerfully fortified by at least one most
important acquisition. Dr. Selwyn enlisted the
services of the Rev. John Coleridge Patteson, whose
subsequent appointment as the first Bishop of
Melanesia, and whose martyr-death on the Isle of
Nukapu, will ever be cherished among those fragrant
memories which are the most cherished legacy of the
Christian Church. Patteson had listened, enthralled,
to an address which Dr. Selwyn had delivered prior
to his first voyage to New Zealand ; and all through
the years he had been conscious of a deepening desire
to join his hero on his distant field. The Bishop's
return to England presented the precise opportunity
for which he had so long hungered in silence ; and
it was with a full and grateful heart that he at length
134
Coral Reefs and Cannibal Islands
found himself appointed to labour side by side with
the man who had fired his youthful imagination and
thrilled him with missionary fervour. It was not the
least among the notable achievements of Bishop
Selwyn, that he was able to capture the hearts of
men of this fine stamp, and to gather around him a
band of heroes whose deathless devotion was only
surpassed by his own.
The ship Duke of Portland, with the Bishop and
his party on board, cast anchor in New Zealand
waters on 5th July. Men of both colours united in
according him a royal welcome back to the la/id of
his adoption. To his unbounded delight, the white
sails of the Southern Cross gleamed on the horizon
only a fortnight later. It is worth peeping into Mr.
Patteson's diary for a description of her arrival :
" About 9 A.M.," he says, " I saw from my windows a
schooner in the distance, and told the Bishop I
thought it might be the Southern Cross. Throughout
the day we kept looking, from time to time, through
our glasses. At 3 P.M. the Bishop came in : ' Come
on, Coley, I do believe it is the Southern Cross' So I
hurried on my waterproofs, knowing that we were in
for some mud-larking. Off we went ; lugged down a
borrowed boat to the water, tide being out. I took
one oar, a Maori another, Bishop steering. After
twenty minutes' pull we met her and jumped on
board. But on Tuesday we had a rich scene. Bishop
and I went to the Duke of Portland and brought off
the rest of our things. But it was low water, so the
boats could not come within a long way of the beach ;
and the custom is for carts to go over the muddy
sand as far into the water as they can. Well, in went
our cart, which had come from the College with three
valuable horses, while the Bishop and I stood on the
edge of the water. Presently, one of the horses lost
its footing, and then all three slipped up. Instanter,
Bishop and I had our coats off, and in we rushed to
135
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
the horses. Such a plunging and splashing ! But they
were all got up safe. Imagine an English Bishop,
with attending parson, cutting into the water to
disentangle their cart-horses from the harness, in full
view of everybody on the beach ! ' This,' said the
Bishop, 'is your first lesson in mud-larking ! "
With the capable assistance of Mr. Patteson, and
with the excellent equipment represented by the new
schooner, the work among the islands became every
year more efficient, and its rapid development
emphasised the necessity for the early appointment
of a separate bishop. But notwithstanding this,
for several years Dr. Selwyn was compelled to
supplement his exhausting labours in New Zealand
by a no less arduous and exacting enterprise among
the uncivilised peoples of the South Seas.
Many and various were the tasks that claimed his
attention in the course of these years of navigation.
Now we see him at the helm with anxious face,
groping his way among coral reefs, and through
uncharted waters that have never before been ploughed
by the keel of a ship. Again, the schooner is fight-
ing her way beneath frowning skies, struggling
through black tempests, and tossing among
mountainous seas, every huge wave threatening to
engulf and destroy her, whilst her dauntless com-
mander, with calm and serious face, and clad in drip-
ping oilskins, fearlessly maintains his ceaseless vigil on
the quarter-deck. On other occasions, when it became
necessary to carry young native women to Auckland
as students, or as brides for love-lorn pupils already
there, the Bishop himself became costumier, and now
out of a bed-quilt, and again out of an old sail,
fashioned garments in which these dusky damsels
could make a creditable debut in civilized society !
His shrewd familiarity with human frailties displayed
itself on these occasions in the gay bunch of coloured
ribbons which he invariably attached to the left
136
? c
ll
ffi >
Coral Reefs and Cannibal Islands
shoulder of the new garments ! Mr. Patteson was
fond of telling, too, how on one memorable voyage the
Bishop paced the deck for hours with a little sick boy,
from one of the islands, in his arms. And at another
time he took the entire charge of a baby during the
sickness of the mother, and nursed the tiny mite with
such acceptance that, at the end of the voyage, the
baby made it clear that its preference was decidedly
for the Bishop rather than for the mother !
But perhaps the most historic adventure of our
versatile Bishop in these seas was that which befell
him at New Caledonia. In groping her course up the
lagoon, the Southern Cross, with a shock that made
her shiver from stem to stern, grated hard on the
rocks. She bumped heavily and repeatedly. It
happened that several ships were all at hand. Help
was offered from all these vessels, but the Bishop was
anxious that his own men should bring about the
deliverance of the vessel. Everybody worked with
a will, the Bishop, as usual, taking the lion's share
of the labour. Towards midnight, the tide rising
to the full, the ship slid off the ledge of rock into
deep water.
But now came the real difficulty. For after the
strain to which she had been subjected, and the
bumping which she had experienced, who was to
declare the schooner sufficiently seaworthy to cross
the intervening ocean to the distant ports of New
Zealand? "There was," says the Rev. B. T. Dudley,
who was present, "no dock, no patent slip, and no
divers were obtainable. But the Bishop was equal to
the occasion. He caused the ship to be heeled over
as far as was safe ; and then, having stripped himself
to his tweed trousers and jersey, . . . made a
succession of dives, during which he felt over the
whole of the keel and forward part of the vessel, much
to the detriment of his hands, which were cut to
pieces with the jagged copper; and ascertained the
'37
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
exact condition of her bottom, and the nature of the
injuries sustained. No wonder that the next day,
after dining on board the Frenchman, he was sent
away with a salute of eleven guns ! "
And so for more than ten years Bishop Selwyn
prosecuted this extraordinary work of navigation and
evangelisation among the islands, in addition to the
principal enterprise to which he had set his hand in
New Zealand. In the course of a single voyage, he
visited sixty-six islands, effected eighty-one landings,
and brought back thirty-three pupils to be trained as
preachers to their own people of the everlasting
Gospel. Every voyage was marked by its own hair-
breadth escapes and thrilling adventures, as well as
by experiences of infinite pathos and irresistible
humour.
Throughout all these expeditions he rigidly adhered
to two fixed principles which he framed for himself
at the outset. These were : (i) That he would never
interfere with any Christianization already under-
taken by any religious body or sect whatsoever, so
that he would never bring before the islanders the great
stumbling-block of divisions among Christians who
should be as brethren. (2) That in taking to them
the religion of Englishmen, he would in no way force
upon them English methods and ways of life, except
in so far as they are part of morality and godliness.
Writing at sea on September i/th, 1851, the Bishop
said, " It is mainly owing to the efforts of the Society
for the Propagation of the Gospel, under God's bless-
ing, that I have been enabled, during the last nine
months, to visit, with ease and comfort, inhabited
countries stretching over thirty-three degrees of lati-
tude, or, one-eleventh part of the circumference of the
globe."
At length, in 1861, that happy consummation was
achieved for which the Bishop had laboured, and
pleaded, and waited, and prayed, through so many
138
Coral Reefs and Cannibal Islands
long years. Recognising the phenomenal progress
which the Melanesian Mission had made, the English
ecclesiastical and civil authorities agreed to appoint
a Bishop of Melanesia. And who shall describe the
joy of Dr. Selwyn when he learned that Mr. Patteson
had been nominated for the position ? For six years
he had acted as the Bishop's understudy, labouring
loyally and devotedly by his side. And in his
elevation to the bishopric, Dr. Selwyn gratefully
recognised the realisation of his own fondest dreams,
and the answer to his most fervent prayers.
CHAPTER VII
THE CALL TO THE HOME-LAND
" Life ! we've been long together,
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather,
'Tis hard to part where friends are dear,
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh or tear.
Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time ;
Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime
Bid me Good-morning."
MRS. BARBAULD.
"\1THEN the important Bishopric of Sydney fell
* * vacant, it was at once offered to Dr. Selwyn,
who promptly declined it. He afterwards com-
plimented himself on that decision under perhaps the
strangest circumstances in which a man ever found
reason for felicitation. For in 1854 ne found himself
not for the first time in his life " without any
visible means of sustenance." We have already seen
how, in order to free the parish church at Windsor
from the incubus of debt, the curate voluntarily
forfeited his salary for the space of two years. His
income, as Bishop of New Zealand, had been ^1200
per annum, half of which had been provided from the
national exchequer, whilst the Church Missionary
Society had contributed the balance. The amount
donated by the Society, however, he had made over
to the fund for the erection and support of new sees,
contenting himself with the moiety voted by Parlia-
ment. But suddenly this faithless stream ran dry.
New Zealand became a self-governing colony, with
140
The Call to the Home-Land
responsible government and political institutions of
her own. From that moment it was impossible for
the stipend of the New Zealand Bishop to find a place
in the Imperial estimates, whilst the new colonial
Government recognised no established church, and
could not, therefore, shoulder the responsibility.
This unpleasant situation arose whilst the Bishop
was in England ; and there were those who thought
that, in the strangely altered circumstances, he might
quite reasonably decline to return to his see. But
they did not know their man. He informed his friends
that, in view of the new conditions, he congratulated
himself on having refused the see of Sydney ; for had
he accepted it, there might have been some difficulty
in securing a Bishop to take charge of New Zealand
without remuneration. "As for myself," hesaid, " I have
lived in New Zealand long enough to have learned the
best places for finding fern-roots and the haunts of birds
and fishes, and I wish to state most clearly and distinctly,
and in all seriousness, that it is my intention to go back
to my diocese and to dig or beg, if need be, for my
maintenance, for I am ashamed of neither ! "
True to his word, he returned to New Zealand,
and threw himself with unabated zeal into those
labours by sea and land, in peace and war, in which
we have already followed him. To the less romantic,
but equally necessary, task of Church organisation,
also, he applied himself with special vigour. In 1862
he was able to reflect with satisfaction that New
Zealand was divided into five separate episcopates
Christ Church, Wellington, Nelson, Waiapu, and his
own. He had nearly a hundred clergymen minis-
tering over great parishes in different parts of the
colony, whilst of these one-tenth were native
preachers. Moreover, one Synod had been held in
the diocese of Waiapu, at which three Maori ministers,
and nineteen lay synodsmen of native race, had
conducted all the proceedings in their own language.
141
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
In 1867 the first Lambeth Conference was to be
held, and Dr. Selwyn was summoned to attend it.
His admirers, with vivid memories of his inspiring
visit in 1854, na< ^ often pleaded with him to return.
But so long as the matter stood merely on grounds
of sentiment, or even of expediency, he turned a deaf
ear to their most importunate entreaties. But the
business to be transacted at Lambeth was so vital,
and the demand for his presence so insistent, that he
felt himself commanded to attend, and in July, 1867,
he again turned his face homewards.
Into the nature of the deliberations of that august
assembly at Lambeth we, of course, cannot enter.
It is sufficient for our purpose to observe that, in the
opinion of all who participated in those impressive
conclaves, the presence of Bishop Selwyn constituted
itself the most conspicuous feature of the gathering.
He was the ornament of every debate to which he
contributed. No voice was heard with more respect,
and no opinions carried greater weight than his.
His commanding figure, his finely-chiselled face, his
charming personality and his silver tongue stamped
their indelible impress upon the Church life of the world,
as a result of his presence at these memorable meetings.
It happened that, during this visit to England, the
death of Bishop Lonsdale created a vacancy in the
historic see of Lichfield. All thoughts instantly
turned towards that distinguished visitor from over-
seas, whose eloquence at the Lambeth Conference,
and whose inspiring sermons and addresses through-
out the country, had stirred the entire Church to the
highest pitch of enthusiasm. Nobody was surprised,
therefore, when it was officially announced that the
ancient and important episcopate of Lichfield had
been offered by Lord Derby to the Right Rev. G. A.
Selwyn, D.D., Bishop of New Zealand. Nor was
anybody who knew him astonished at his instantly
declining the promotion. He was at Exeter when
142
The Call to the Home-Land
the call reached him, and without waiting a moment,
he wired his refusal.
He wrote to Lord Derby explaining that he felt it
his duty to return to New Zealand : "(l) Because the
native race requires all the efforts of the few friends
that remain to it ; (2) because the organisation of the
Church in New Zealand is still incomplete ; (3)
because I have still, so far as I can judge, health and
strength for the peculiar duties which habit has made
familiar to me ; (4) because my bishopric is not
endowed ; (5) because I have personal friends, to
whom I am so deeply indebted that I feel bound to
work with them so long as I can ; and (6) because a
report was spread in New Zealand that I did not
intend to return ; to which I answered that nothing
but illness or death would prevent me. My heart is
in New Zealand and Melanesia."
In recording his call to New Zealand twenty-six
years earlier, we had occasion to remark upon Dr.
Selwyn's military instincts. He was born to command
and to be commanded. From those beneath his
authority he expected explicit and unwavering
obedience. To his own civil and ecclesiastical
superiors he submitted himself without reserve. A
soldier's life had a powerful fascination for him. He
could have passed with honours a most exacting
examination in military tactics, and was familiar with
every device and strategy of Caesar and Napoleon,
of Marlborough and Wellington. His criticisms of the
disposition of British regiments during the Maori war
were always precisely to the point. It is only by an
appreciation of this peculiarity of his versatile nature
that his decisions in 1841 and in 1867 can be under-
stood. The Queen on the one hand, and the Arch-
bishop of Canterbury on the other, made it clear to him
that they wished him to transfer his service from one
end of the world to the other, and when they had so
spoken he felt that no further word remained to be said.
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
On Sunday evening, ist December, 1867, in her
private room at Windsor Castle, Queen Victoria
discussed the whole matter with Dr. Selwyn. She
assured him that it was her own earnest desire that
he should leave his work beneath the Southern Cross
and make his home under the northern stars. " And
so," he says, " I accepted with as good a grace as
I could, though I felt very sorrowful, and still feel
so."
He was enthroned as Bishop of Lichfield on pth
January of the following year. For awhile he was in
the peculiar position of holding simultaneously two
episcopates. He made it a condition of his acceptance
of Lichfield, however, that he should be permitted to
return to New Zealand to take farewell of his people
at the Antipodes.
And what distressing farewells those were ! What
it cost Dr. Selwyn to say good-bye to Bishop
Patteson, to his episcopal brethren in New Zealand,
to his devoted clergy (both European and Maori),
and to his hosts of friends of both races, will never
be known in this world. Nor can we imagine what
it must have meant to him to tear himself away from
the land whose snow-capped mountains, rugged
ranges, rushing rivers, fertile plains, and glorious bush
had been endeared to him by the very privations he
had endured in exploring their charms. In bidding
farewell to the New Zealand of 1868, he cast many a
thought back to the wilder and lonelier New Zealand
of 1841, and lifted up his heart in gratitude for the
amazing transformation.
" Sire, the Bishop ! " said one of the touching
addresses presented by the Maoris, "salutations to
you and to Mother! (Mrs. Selwyn). We are in grief!
Great is our affection for you both who are now being
lost to us. But how can it be helped, in consequence
of the word of our great one, the Queen ? Sire, our
thought with regard to you is that you are like the
144
The Call to the Home-Land
poor man's lamb taken away by the rich man. Go,
sire, and may God preserve you both ! "
" How," asks Canon Curteis, " could the Maoris
avoid being deeply attached to a man whose humour,
simplicity, and manliness were so entirely after their
own heart?" And he gives this story, graphically
told by one of the actors or sufferers !- in the scene.
" In the year 1855 I was travelling with the Bishop
down to Taranaki to try to stop a war between two
native tribes. On the last day of our march our
stores were reduced to a small piece of bacon and a
handful of flour to be shared by three persons.
Having forty miles to walk, we agreed to defer our
single remaining meal till mid-day, about which time,
after dragging ourselves through a black muddy creek,
we bathed in a river of clear water a mile farther on,
and then decided to rest and cook our bacon-puff.
Just as we were dividing the savoury morsel into
three equal parts a Maori appeared. He was
exhausted and starving, having been in the bush two
days and nights without any food. With a twinkle
in his eye, expressive of amusement at our coming
disappointment, the Bishop whispered tome : 'We must
give him the puff!' And so we did, tramping off
ourselves for a further walk of twenty rough miles
to the river Waitara, where, at length, we broke our
fast ! "
After a long and painful series of valedictory
functions, the Bishop at last left New Zealand on
2Oth October, 1868. All shops were closed on
that sad day, and the streets were thronged with
crowds of people, eager for a last glimpse of
the Bishop. The church of St. Paul, Auckland,
was packed to the point of suffocation, and multi-
tudes, disappointed, were turned from the doors.
As the Bishop, with his wife and son and Bishop
Abraham, made their way towards the wharf, they
were besieged for final handshakes and last good-
10 145
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
byes. A towering triumphal car, tastefully decor-
ated, had been specially constructed. Aloft, a seat
had been prepared for "Mother" (Mrs. Selwyn),
whilst the others were grouped around and beneath
her. This ponderous conveyance was dragged, first
by four horses, and then, the horses being removed,
by the people themselves. At the wharf there was
the usual bustle and agitation attendant upon a
steamer's departure. Then a shout from the bridge,
a whistle here, the casting off of a cable there, and
the great ship stood out to sea. A snow-storm of
waving handkerchiefs was all that could be recognised
by those on deck, as they 'fastened their last lingering
gaze upon the vanishing wharves.
" At 6.45 P.M.," wrote the Bishop, " on 2ist October,
Cape Maria Van Diemen melted away into the
twilight mist. Another look at the 'Three Kings'
was the close of all. And then the thought came upon
me with great bitterness that I should never see the
dear old land again. But the mind has now settled
down upon its new bearings, and the magnet of
English interests and work begins to draw me on."
The lofty anticipations which his statesmanship at
the Lambeth Conference had led his friends to enter-
tain concerning his administration of an English see
were by no means disappointed. He fearlessly intro-
duced into the Church life of England those novel
methods which he had tested on colonial fields ; and
it may be doubted whether any one Bishop has
contributed more effectively to the ecclesiastical
organisation of our own time than has Bishop Selwyn.
Whether addressing the House of Lords, speaking in
Convocation, delivering charges to his own clergy, or
preaching in the stately Cathedral at Lichfield, he
never failed to carry conviction to the minds of his
auditors. They were invariably impressed by his
transparent sincerity, his intense passion, and his
evident desire to promote the well-being of others.
146
The Call to the Home-Land
In his own diocese, too, he wrought wonders. The
modest yet dignified, homeliness which had won the
hearts of the Maoris did not fail him in the " Black
Country " in England. A student tells how " he saw
the Bishop for the first time as he stood courteously
holding open the door of a third-class carriage for a
coal-begrimed woman, with baby and basket, to get
in. It was as though a great lord was ushering a
duchess into Windsor Castle."
When, in November, 1872, an appalling colliery
accident overwhelmed the little village of Pelsall, the
Bishop was on the scene immediately, and his tireless
activity and practical sympathy amazed all beholders.
From early morning until late at night he was labour-
ing for the relief of the distressed. He visited the
widows and fatherless children whose homes seemed
in ruins after the desolating catastrophe. He kneeled
and wept with them, addressing to them tactful and
soothing words of consolation which, for years after-
wards, echoed like haunting music in their memories.
He visited the mansions of the wealthy, collecting
funds for the relief of the sufferers. In castle and
cottage he was equally at home. And where vicars
and curates were exhausted by the additional strain
to which the demands of the tragedy had subjected
them, he cheerfully occupied their pulpits and
ministered in their stead.
After a long and fatiguing day at the scene of this
disaster, the Bishop and his son John were one night
walking home a distance of eight miles when they
came upon a little village in which they found a poor
woman in peculiar distress. Her coal-merchant had
inconsiderately shot her coals down outside her door,
and left her to get them in as best she could. With-
out a second's hesitation the Bishop of Lichfield and
the future Bishop of Melanesia threw off their coats,
and, tired to death as they already were, neither of
them rested for a moment until all the fuel had been
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
safely housed and neatly stacked. Then, leaving the
good woman in a state of breathless embarrassment
and surprise, they again strode off into the night.
Under Dr. Selwyn's vigilant control no section of
the population was overlooked. Those elements in
the community which are generally regarded as sheep
having no shepherd, he made his especial care. His
quick eye soon perceived that the people on the
barges, the floating population of the canals, were
entirely out of touch with all religious activities.
He therefore arranged for a mission-barge the
Messenger to be built under his own supervision ;
and this unique vessel, with its resident chaplain on
board, was soon to be seen thridding the intricate
waterways of the Trent and the Mersey. Indeed, it
was no uncommon spectacle to behold the Bishop
himself conducting service on the barge, or sitting
with the chaplain on a heap of cinders, taking a rough-
and-ready meal between the hours of worship.
The most forbidding districts of the Black Country
felt, under his episcopate, the throb of a new spiritual
impulse. Under his unwearying supervision there
were no unreached masses in the whole of his
extensive diocese. He believed with all his heart and
soul in the power of the Gospel to uplift even the
most degraded. Had he not with his own hands
administered the sacred emblems of redemptive grace
to those who had, not so long before, greedily
devoured human flesh ? And he was confident that
the triumphs which had been achieved on cannibal
islands could be repeated in city slums. He organised
" missions," conducted in many instances by laymen,
and miracles were wrought as a result. In one district,
we are assured, " pigeons kept for betting purposes were
got rid of; cards were flung into the fire ; wives, who
had never seen their husbands come home sober, now
saw them hastening to church ; and unmarried women
were now no longer afraid to be out after dark."
148
The Call to the Home-Land
The radiations and vibrations of the Bishop's energy
were felt in every crevice and corner of the diocese.
" He were one," exclaimed an unlettered admirer,
whose life had been transformed beneath the spell of
the Bishop's touch, "he were one that did speak
straight home to you ; he knew all about we, I can
tell you!" "If ever you want a good turn done for
you," said another man, " send for the Bishop ; he's
the one to do it ! " " Yes, it's the Bishop's arm now
and for ever, if he wants it," exclaimed a third, gazing
with gratitude and pride upon the once-mangled limb
which Dr. Selwyn had saved for him ; " I'd rather ha'
died than ha' lost it, but the Bishop, he give me the
five pun' note for a silver bone, and it's made a new
man of me. Yes, it's his arm now ! "
Twice in the course of those busy years he crossec
the Atlantic attending Conventions, preaching special
sermons, and delivering addresses in the great centres
of population in Canada and the United States.
Both in 1871 and in 1874 his journeys across the
Western continent resembled the triumphal progress
of a conqueror. Everywhere he was accorded magni-
ficent receptions. All sections of the community
dignitaries of churches, leaders in politics, princes of
commerce, and captains of industry thronged to hear
him ; and deep and permanent was the impression
which he left on the best life of the Western peoples.
In the midst of these multitudinous activities, which
would have shattered the constitution of a weaker
man, there fell a blow which shrouded his whole life
in gloom. In 1871, just after the Cathedral bells had
gleefully welcomed him back from his first American
tour, there came the staggering intelligence that his
" dear son in the Lord," Bishop Patteson, had been
cruelly murdered at Nukapu. Only those who had
watched, during the years of happy and united
service, the ever-increasing bond of affection existing
between the Bishop and " Coley," could appreciate
149
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
the stunning severity of this awful blow. The Bishop
moved about for days like a man dreaming, bewildered,
dazed. In the Cathedral, at every evensong, he asked
for the Dead March. His whole life seemed draped
in mourning. It appeared an amazing incongruity
that the children should go on laughing, and that the
birds should continue to sing. To him the universe
held but one black fact " Coley was dead ! and
murdered ! " He recalled with pathetic vividness the
perils they had shared on those island homes of
barbarism. " Oh, why did we not die together then ? "
he would ask. " God only knows ! He knows !
One is taken and the other left !"
Then followed what was probably the culminating
act of heroism in this so heroic life. Dr. Selwyn was
the Founder of the Melanesian episcopate. In reality,
he was himself the pioneer Bishop of that strangely
scattered see. He had conducted those expeditions
which had trained and prepared Mr. Patteson. for his
bishopric. And to him all eyes turned in expectation
now. Whom would he nominate to the vacant charge
in succession to the murdered Bishop? By his side
stood his own son John Richardson Selwyn filial
in affection, loyal in service, wise in counsel, fearless
in danger. And in that time of anguish, whilst every
fibre of his being shuddered with horror at the atrocity
that had stained the islands with the blood of his friend,
he offered his own son as his successor at the post of
peril. The General Synod of New Zealand heartily
accepted the suggestion, and elected the Rev. J. R. Sel-
wyn to succeed Bishop Patteson in the see of Melanesia.
The consecration of the second " Bishop Selwyn "
took place in the pretty little cathedral church, stand-
ing on its leafy knoll, at Nelson, New Zealand, on
1 8th February, 1877. And who shall describe that
altogether unique service held exactly simultaneously
in Lichfield Cathedral? It was a glorious summer
Sunday morning at Nelson ; and the little cathedral
150
The Call to the Home-Land
around which the birds were singing blithely was
flooded with brilliant sunshine. It was a raw winter's
night at Lichfield ; many of the shops were still
driving their Saturday night's trade ; the stars shone
coldly through the clear but nipping air as, towards
the "witching hour," the cloaked and muffled
worshippers wended their way to the stately old
cathedral. No contrast could have been more strik-
ing ; yet the two services were held at precisely the
same moment of time, those at Lichfield joining those
at Nelson in dedicating to his great life-work the
younger Bishop Selwyn. At Lichfield the Bishop
delivered a brief address, characterised alike by its
simplicity, its beauty, and its courage ; and then,
after silent prayer, and a consecration hymn, the
congregation, with bowed heads, filed out into the
weird darkness of that early Sabbath morning. They
thought the more of the doctrines and precepts that
fell from their great Bishop's lips as they reflected on
the munificent sacrifice which that service represented.
In that same year the distinguished character of
the Bishop's colonial service was" recognised by his
being appointed the first " Prelate of the Order of St.
Michael and St. George." Anything that linked his
present life with those wild and hardy days of
adventure beyond the seas came to Dr. Selwyn like
cold water to a thirsty soul. Mrs. Selwyn often
caught him gazing with peculiar fondness upon his
beautiful study-table, inlaid as it was with many-
tinted woods of various grains, gathered from his own
beloved New Zealand bush.
A few weeks later, however, the Bishop's own health
gave to his relatives the gravest cause for alarm.
During the month of March it became evident that it
was only by calling up all the reserve forces of his
indomitable will that he was discharging his
multifarious duties. He would ask, after a service, to
be left alone. On 24th March he conducted an
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
impressive confirmation service at Shrewsbury,
concluding a most beautiful arid searching address
with the words destined to be his last in public
" Safe in the arms of Jesus." At the close of the
service, Bishop Hobhouse congratulated him on the
energy and vigour with which he had spoken. " Yes,"
he replied, " but it was like holding on to a ship in a
storm. I held on by my hands and feet!" Then,
flinging himself back in his chair in uttermost
weariness and abandonment, he exclaimed : " The
end is come ! "
He was able to return to Lichfield, however, and to
enjoy to the last the gentle ministries of those loving
hands which, in all his toils and travels, had never
failed to comfort, soothe, and strengthen him. Mrs.
Selwyn was with him until the end. With her he held
several cheerful and even animated conversations,
which almost encouraged the hope that the ominous
symptoms might yet disappear. But on the Saturday
he was weaker, and asked to be permitted to take the
Communion with his wife and family. Clad in the
lowly garments of penitence to the very last, his first
words to this little gathering, as it slowly and sorrow-
fully filed into his room, were : " I wish to tell you all
{hat I have made my humble submission to God for
all my sins." Out of great feebleness, he addressed
to each of those present, including the servants, a few
touching words of earnest exhortation. Then, pausing
for a moment with closed eyes, as his mind sped
across the rolling oceans to his lonely son, he added,
with that felicity of Scriptural quotation which never
deserted him : " The blessing of his father shall be
upon the head of him who is separate from his
brethren." He then pronounced his last bene-
diction ; and the little household, with many stifled
sobs and falling tears, passed mournfully from the
room.
Jt was a strange spectacle to see the old lion low
152
s
1 1
0. o
s x
153
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
at last. That sturdy and athletic frame had throbbed
so long with muscular activity and manly vigour that
so sudden and complete a collapse seemed scarcely
credible. Yet there he lay, the very picture of mortal
frailty ! The arms, once so sinewy and strong, lay
helplessly by his sides. The eyes, once so expressive
and, on occasions, so fiery, stare vacantly upward.
He spoke incoherently, not in English but in Maori
he is once more trudging along the old bush-tracks,
climbing his beloved mountains, and holding palavers
with hostile native tribes. Then suddenly there was
a knitting of those splendid brows, a return of intel-
ligence to those eloquent eyes, and he recognised the
watchers by his bedside. A weary smile played over
his features as he reminded his little grand-daughters
of earlier frolics, and wished they were robins that
they might perch upon his hand. The old enthusiasm
mantled his features as he detected the figure of Sir
William Martin, and chatted for a moment on the old
days in the land beyond the sea. Then once more
the tired eyes closed, and he uttered almost his last
intelligible words those lovely Maori syllables in
which a native Christian, dying, assures the friends
who surround his couch that he has caught the vision
of the glory dawning from a better world : "It is
Light ! It is Light I IT is LIGHT ! "
He lingered, the feeble flame at times flickering
fitfully, until the Thursday. Then, collecting all his
little store of strength, he murmured a few broken
words, in which he avowed his undying affection for
that noble wife who had so ungrudgingly shared all
his burdens, and his serene trustfulness in the eternal
love of God. Then, like a tired child nestling down
to sleep, he composed himself, with a soft sigh, upon
his pillows, and peacefully entered into his rest. So,
on April Iith, 1878, at the age of sixty-nine, the
valiant soul of one of England's very greatest sons
passed triumphantly away.
154
The Call to the Home-Land
During the following week the entire nation rose as
one man to do honour to his memory. Represent-
atives of every shade of English and colonial life
turned their steps towards Lichfield in respectful
sorrow, at what each felt to be a personal, as well as
a national bereavement A grave was specially carved
out of the solid rock on which the old Cathedral
stands. To this final resting-place the coffin was
THE PALACE, LICHFIELD, WHERE BISHOP SELVVYN DIED
affectionately borne by his old schoolfellow, the Right
Hon. W. E. Gladstone; his old pupil, the Earl of
Powis ; his oldest New Zealand friend, Sir William
Martin ; and by Archdeacon Allen, the Provost of
Eton ; Lord Hatherton ; and Sir Percival Heywood.
Five hundred clergymen witnessed to the intense
personal affection, which he always inspired in those
who served under his authority, by joining, in
mournful procession, the cortege to the tomb ; and
J55
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
thus performing a last act of homage to a leader
whom to follow was to love.
In all parts of the world the most glowing tributes
were paid to his memory. Pulpit, press, and platform
vied with each other in commemorating the command-
ing virtues and distinguished excellences of one
whom no difficulty had ever daunted, and the imprint
of whose splendid and gracious influence must abide
upon the world for ever.
It was to be expected, of course, that testimonies to
his sterling worth should come from the highest
national and ecclesiastical sources. And, bearing the
hall-mark of profound sincerity and of deep emotion, such
eulogies were uttered. But to these must be added
one or two others which, offered gratuitously and spon-
taneously, must be reckoned as of at least equal value.
Mr. Punch, for example, who had, on the Bishop's
translation to Lichfield eleven years before, paid magni-
ficent tribute in glowing metre to the mettle of the
heroic prelate, again voiced the universal sentiment in
lines which appeared on the day of the funeral.
From a lengthy poem we may select a few stanzas :
" Lift hats all, as this funeral takes its way
Whate'er our Church or sect, for once we can
To him that's borne unto his rest to-day,
Each breath a Bishop every inch a MAN !
" Few are the Pauls we breed in these soft times,
To live the life of travel and of toil,
Face danger, hardship, rough ways, change of climes
The early Christian soldier's march and moil.
"So he sailed forth across Australian seas,
To where the savage Maori held his own,
Bark-robed, tattooed, close watching, ill at ease,
The white man's strength still growing, not yet grown.
u And there the Bishop stood, between the war
Of Clans and Chiefs and Settlers, all alone,
Holding the Christian banner high and far,
'Bove smoke of strife and noise of warriors blown.
156
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
" Until his way was clear, and he was free,
His wide, wild Bishopric to range at will,
To swim the river and to sail the sea,
And set to labouring work his strength and skill.
"Till savages were weaned from savageness,
And white men owned a faith ne'er owned till then ;
And school and Church rose in the wilderness,
Fruit of the seed of Love Goodwill to men !
"At length from work he rests, and to the bier
His good deeds follow him, and good men's love ;
And one true Bishop less we reckon here,
And one good angel more they count above."
But perhaps, after all, one of the most weighty
witnesses to the worth and work of Bishop Selwyn
was that given by Charles Kingsley in his dedication
of " Westward Ho ! " and as offered by one who was,
four years afterwards, appointed Regius Professor of
Modern History at Cambridge, it is notable indeed.
On the opening page of that most thrilling and
dramatic story of exploit and adventure, we read :
TO
THE RAJAH SIR JAMES BROOKE, K.C.B,
AND
GEORGE AUGUSTUS SELWYN, D.D.,
BISHOP OF NEW ZEALAND,
Ubis Boofe is
By one who (unknown to them) has no other method of ex-
pressing his admiration and reverence for their characters.
That type of English virtue, at once manful and godly,
practical and enthusiastic, prudent and self-sacrificing, which
he has tried to depict in these pages, they have exhibited in a
form even purer and more heroic than that in which he has
drest it, and than that in which it was exhibited by the worthies
whom Elizabeth, without distinction of rank or age, gathered
round her in the ever glorious wars of her great reign. C. K.
158
The Call to the Home-LaDd
An exquisitely beautiful recumbent statue of the
Bishop has been placed in Lichfield Cathedral, which
will always remain one of the principal attractions
of the splendid minster. The approach to that
monument has been worn by the pilgrim feet of
thousands of patriotic New Zealanders, Melanesian
missionaries, and tattooed Maoris, eager to lay a
reverent hand upon that effigy of their great pioneer
Bishop and friend. In 1882 a touching scene was
here witnessed. Beside the pure white alabaster
RECOMBEKT FIGURE OF BISHOP SRIAVYN IN T.TCTTFIET T> CATHEDRAL
effigy of the sleeping Bishop, there stood a wrinkled
old New Zealand chief, his face and features tattooed
in the time-honoured native fashion. Standing
silently at first, he gazed upon the tomb until faster
and faster still, the tears coursed down his scarred
but noble face. Then he kneeled, and for awhile
yielded to his emotion, as his memories of the good
Bishop returned lik'e a wave upon him. Then, rising
and gazing in admiration at the lovely statue, he
exclaimed in his own language : " That was his very
chin ; that was his forehead ; and those were the
George Augustus Selwyn, D.D.
very finger-nails which I myself saw him bite in his
nervousness, when he preached his first sermon in our
language ! "
In 1909 the centenary of Dr. Selwyn's birth was
celebrated with the greatest enthusiasm in New
Zealand, and in honour of the occasion a new wing
the Patteson wing was added to St. John's College
at Auckland.
But we need linger no longer beside these
monuments. Dr. Selwyn's work is not yet finished.
He had to do, not only with the upbuilding of a strong
Church, but with the moulding of a great nation. He
literally fought his way through floods and flames
that that Church might be the channel through which
the blessings of the Gospel of Christ should flow to
many peoples. And he endured untold hardships
and indescribable privations that that young nation
might present to the world the impressive spectacle of
a people doing justly, loving mercy, and walking
humbly with their God. To-day that Church
cherishes his name as among her chiefest treasures ;
whilst that vigorous nation, sturdy and daring, opulent
and free, rises in gratitude to do honour to his memory.
New Zealand will never forget the most sagacious
and sure-footed of all her pathfinders.
Without grudge, or stint, or thought of self, he
lavishly poured out his greatly-gifted life, like precious
ointment, on the head of his Redeemer. The fragrance
of his influence is in all the world. His body sleeps
at Lichfield ; his name is in all the Churches ; his
work moves grandly on ; his record is on high.
ABERDEEN : THE UNIVERSITY PRESS
University of California
SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY
Return this material to the library
from which it was borrowed.
JUL 1
A 000165114 o
