STORIES OF NEW ZEALAND.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 247, 17 October 1936, Page 50 (Supplement)

STORIES OF NEW ZEALAND.

B y james cowan.

AUCKLAND AND THE MAORIS—THE LONG PEACE BROKEN—THE GOVERNMENT PLANS AUU INVASION OF WAIKATO..

great union called a Land League. This was. intended 'to prevent any further sale of land to the whites. They were, of course, quite justified in forming such a combination. It was the only chance of preserving their land against the wedges being driven into it here and there by Government purchases. Other tribes joined Taranaki in this effort to stay the pakeha flood. There was land enough and to spare; .far more than all the human beings in New Zealand could possibly use. But the pakeha, the Maori shrewdly saw, would presently be the principal owner if he were not stopped. Some of the Taranaki people broke the combination by selling pieces of land here and there, and so intertribal wars arose, which the Government did nothing to check. The Maori King. Now the Maori King movement, which was begun at Otaki and carried into effect at Taupo and in the Waikato, united many tribes- in an enthusiastic bond of uriityr It supported the principles of the Land League; and it was given a lead by the election of the First Maori King, the aged chief Potatau, greatest of the warriors and Arikis of Waikato. Potatau was the head, or figurehead, but the great leader and director of the Kingdom was the chief Wiromu Tamchana (William Thompson), of

IN" our last story on tliis page the p peaceful arrangements with the Maoris of the Hauraki for gold- -j mining at Coroniandel were described. ; There were three thousand diggers on \ the field in 1853, but Coromandel was t never a very rich field. It was the ' Thames goidfield that dazzled the < treasure-seeking world with its great, discoveries and its exciting turns of : Fortune's wheel; but th:>t \vs'- ' Tears after the first finds at Coro- < mande]. In the meantime disastrous i war had been waged by the two races, which until 18G0 had lived on such ' friendly terms with each other since the little wars of the 'forties. Neighbourly trading and the cultivation of the soil kept the Maori tribes pcacefuly busy until the first signs of unrest and quarrelling in about ISOO. The first cause of the growing distrust and suspicion 011 the part of the Maori was the land. The land, always the land was the root of evil in Maori Land. The white population was increasing quickly; shiploads of immigrants were arriving, and the new- English settlers demanded land. This wajit of land for farms was particularly urgent in Taranaki. In South Auckland, too, the farming population was spreading, and visitors to the Waikato described the beautiful Maori cultivations there, the wheatfields and the orchards and the watermills that ground the Maori corn. The Maoris seemed to have the best of the land; naturally they picked out the choicest parts of the country for their homes, and the food gardens which aroused the envy of the Europeans. The Maori, on his side, was beginning to feel that sooner or later the strong white men would push them out of their own country. The Maori Fears. "They like a few of us to trade ■with, and to sell them guns and Groceries and blankets and tobacco.' That was the attitude of the Maori tribes in general, as described by Mr. Charles Hursthouse, of New Plymouth, in 1860. "They would have a few thousands of us to live with them on sufferance as expert traders and tailors, ministering to their bodily wants. An emigrant ship a year is quite as much as they care to see; and there can be no doubt that the large arrival of people in Auckland during the last year or two under the free grant and regulations of that province has much alarmed them and led to the belief that if something were riot done to check this influx of the whites the Maori race would soon be so outnumbered as to be trodden underfoot or lost." The' Land League. In order to check the spread of an unwanted European population, so much greater than they had expected, the Maoris in Taranaki formed a

the Ngati-Haua tribe, whose headquarters we're at Matamata. He was a great chief, a most intelligent man, well-informed in history and politics, and inspired with a deep love for his country. With all his might he pleaded with the Government of the colonV for the Maoris' right to a king'of their own. to manage their own affairs. "The Queen .on her piece,' our King on bis piece" was his contention. His aspirations were for perfect friendship with the white people, and loyalty to the general sovereignty of the white Queen; It was in effect Home Rule for the Maori that lie claimed, and it was the denial of this Maori right to manage the affairs of the Maori that caused the Waikato War. Books have been written about the Maori King and the history of the quarrel which so sadly ruined the peaceful old age of progress and Maori farming. Here we need not discuss all that. It is enough to say that history has proved that the patriotic Taraeiiana and his fellowchiefs were in the right. They were moderate and reasonable in their requests, which always met with rebuffs from the Governor—ifirst Gore Browne and then Sir George Grey-— and the statesmen of the daiy. The first great blunder of the Government was making war on the I Taranaki tribes in order . to obtain

land at the Waitara. Then three years later came the invasion of the Waikato country." Both were actuated by the pakeha desire to acquire land. Manv excuses were made, all kinds of pretexts were put forward in Pay* liament and in the newspapers of the day. The issue was simple: the Maori was desperately determined to preserve his land and his independence, the Englishman was determined to put him down and take what land he required. They were two strong men contending for the prize of the land. There was a growing hatred of. the Maori among the more ignorant sections of the white community m Auckland and New Plymouth, and this hatred was increased by some of the newspapers and most of the politicians of the day. The chief friends and advocates of the Maori cause were the Chief Justice, Sir William Martin, and the great Bishop Selwyn, Bishop Hadfield and other missionaries. They were acquainted with the causes of the trouble, they worked hard for peace, and they pleaded with the Governors and Government for a reasonable frame of mind and a fair consideration of Wiremu Tamehana's arguments. (Continued on page 53.)

THE old grey horse sought the shelter of. the few straggly pines and turned his hack to the wind. Overhead the sky was grey and menacing as though a storm was brewing. The grey horse hung his head and closed his eyes. He was accustomed to storms. Dur.ing his 18 years he bad weathered more than he could remember. Even the vivid lightning that' zig-zagged jaggedly across the heavens, and the low rumbling roar of the thunder, held for him no terror. He was too old and too wise, and he knew that the storm would pass. Once he would have crouched terrified in a cosy loose-box and a groom would have stood at his head and soothed him with soft words. But that was all over now—that and the daily grooming, the daily gallops on the springy turf or on the dirt track, the warm rug-over his glossy coat and the sweet-smelling straw in his loose-box to lie upon every night. How they had pampered him. He had been their spoilt child. And he had repaid them. The thunder rolled again in the far south. He flung up his head, ears pricked, eyes alight with the old fire. And he heard, not the growl of thunder, but the low, stirring roll of the drum and the strains of the race band as the horses walked into the birdcage. Once again he was the proud aristocratic Silver Shadow of years ago. Stepping with short, springy steps through the gates—out on to the track. His long silver mane was as spun gossamer in the sunlight, his dainty ears were pricked, his head tossing. Now they were lined up at the barrier —restless, fidgety, each one a bundle of highly-strung nerves. They were pressing against one another and trembling, eager, anxious to be off. Once again came that low rumble in the south, but it was not the thunder. It was the mighty shout of the crowds that lined the enclosure. They were off! Their hoofs pounding the turf in a ceaseless tattoo. The first hurdle, and they were over. He was a length ahead of the bright chestnut, Gold Casket. Up the hill with long, bounding strides, and down the other side like a charging cavalcade. Over the water jump— Black Pirate had fallen. Over the stone wall—Gold Casket hit badly and fell behind. ' On and on —his jockey was leaning over • his neck, the rushing wind lifted his mane, his long tail streamed out behind him. Up the rise now for the last time, and down the other side, at a mad headlong pace, imposing a terrific strain upon hie slender, einewy forelegs.