Te Whānau Wiremu ki Aotearoa: How the Williams’ story has shaped Christianity, Culture, and Nation in Aotearoa, New Zealand.

 It offers reflections on their legacies in shaping Christianity, culture, and nation in New Zealand. It argues that Māori language, cultural knowledge, land, and people would not have survived the impacts of colonialism as they have done without the influence of the Williams family, their mission colleagues, and the early Māori church.. The title of this article is ambitious, probably overly so. It could also be asked: how have the Williams’ been shaped by Christianity and their engagement with Māori culture? Like a tukutuku weave (ornamental latticework), the lines of influence flow in many directions. In fact, without being affected or imprinted by the Māori world, they would not have had the influence they have had.

Christian Identity

Henry Williams and his wife Marianne (née Coldham) were influential early Church Missionary Society (CMS) missionaries in Aotearoa, New Zealand. Three years after they arrived in 1823, Henry’s brother, William, came with his wife Jane to bolster an influential phase of mission in which, by 1840, the New Testament was translated, and many Māori had embraced regular Christian worship and baptism. Henry left a legacy as a peacemaker-evangelist while his brother became a leading linguist, translator, and founder of the authoritative Māori language dictionary, A Dictionary of the Māori Language, or simply, Williams Dictionary.[2] In the first instance, we may ask how the Williams family shaped Christianity in Aotearoa, New Zealand.

The People and Their Faith

The Williams family were of Welsh ancestry and were Nonconformists or Dissenters from the Church of England. This is important as to their theology and characteristics as people; the two are interlinked. Henry and William’s grandfather was a Congregational minister. The Congregationalists were Puritans, descendants of those Old Dissent groups who believed that the English Reformation did not sufficiently reform the church—it remained too Catholic, not sufficiently emphasising Bible teaching, plain worship, and salvation by faith.

Nonconformists had historically been persecuted by and excluded from the Anglican state, which partly explains why the Williams and Coldham families were independent-minded people. Henry’s father, Thomas Williams, obviously had strong ideas about English liberties: monarchy, yes, but indeed not absolute monarchy. When the French Revolution had reached a new peak in late 1792, Thomas feared he had “been rather imprudent in uttering his democratic sentiments, & fear[ed] he had gone too far & might be reckon’d a mark’d man.”[3] It seems that Thomas escaped censure by the authorities on that occasion. Still, this upbringing and sense of the English past are apparent in Henry’s later references to the Treaty of Waitangi as a Magna Carta—a document of constitutional significance that would protect Māori rights.

And what about personality? These Puritans were not puritanical. Yes, they dressed “like crows” in black—as James Belich so gratuitously pointed out in Making Peoples;[4] the women wore bonnets and full-length dresses and had fixed ideas about domestic cleanliness, tidiness, and hard work. In this, they demonstrated their essential Puritanism, for work and cleanliness were close to godliness—expressive of a salvation already obtained.[5] Dressing in black, however, does not mean they were boring (witness the All Blacks, Black Ferns, Black Caps!). The Williams family lived life to the full, and at least some of them had a sense of humour. In his youth, Thomas Williams sang jolly and patriotic songs and imbibed strong drink with his friends while sailing around the Spithead royal vessel.[6] They enjoyed a game of cricket on the Gosport or Paihia commons. They appreciated fine church music and classical music; Thomas and Mary Williams travelled from their home in Gosport on “a jaunt to London” to see performances of Handel.[7] These Puritans had meals with business associates at the local pub, while at home, they had tea parties, musical recitals, and even played cards.[8] In New Zealand, they occasionally enjoyed a private joke at the expense of some eminent person: Marianne, for example, wrote to Jane describing their nickname for one British navy colonel during the 1845 Northern War as “Col. Despond” rather than Col. Despard.[9]

The Dissenters were greatly influenced by the Evangelical Awakening of the eighteenth century, reinforcing the Puritan tradition's heart religion and personal piety. Evangelicals emphasised Scripture, the cross of Christ, salvation by faith or “conversion,” and activism in spreading the Gospel, together with social reform (think Wilberforce and company).[10] They also very much believed in God’s over-ruling providence in history despite setbacks and the actions of ill-disposed people. Of course, it was through the Evangelical Anglican influence of Rev. Edward Marsh, a cousin, that Henry Williams came to consider missionary service for the CMS.

Not all Dissenters in the late 1700s were Evangelicals, however. Marianne Coldham’s Presbyterians were apparently not in this mould. Hence, the first person Henry may have led to a personal faith in Christ was Marianne shortly after their marriage.[11] This is a significant narrative of personal conversion, given their later missionary endeavours together. Marianne’s letters are full of expressions of a personal, vibrant faith, as when she describes the baptism of Taiwhanga, the first rangatira Māori baptised in 1830.[12]

The Early Māori Church—Te Hāhi Mihinare

The Evangelical missionaries impacted Christianity in Aotearoa in several significant ways. First, Henry Williams shifted the missions’ focus to the translation of Scripture and the Book of Common Prayer, with William Williams providing the linguistic expertise. Second, the Williamses and their CMS colleagues invested a significant amount of work in catechising and baptising; Henry alone had baptised well over a thousand Māori by 1844 in the southern Bay of Islands area.[13] Third, they trained and released many native catechists or teacher-preachers.

Native teachers or evangelists were significant for the emerging Māori church, and many spontaneously outworked Māori responses to the Gospel. The great Ngāti Pōrou evangelist, Piripi Taumata-ā-Kura, was among this number. However, he revealed the influence of CMS teaching when he announced that he had been with Williams of the “four-eyes” (karu-whā) at Paihia.[14] William Williams, observing with wonder the progress of Christianity on the East Coast before his arrival with Jane in 1840, stated that the English missionaries “literally stood ‘still to see the salvation of God’.”[15] He was referring to this spontaneous response of Māori, including released slaves, to the Christian message.

Te Hāhi Mihinare itself—the formal missionary church of the CMS—was increasingly a Māori church, led by Māori laity and over time by ordained leaders or clergy, as Hirini Kaa has recently described.[16] The Christianity the Williams brothers and their spouses influenced was a Māori form of Christianity, ultimately, in which Māori were willing agents and actors.

Henry Williams’ role as a peacemaker was overemphasised in early hagiographies but has been underplayed by recent historians. Te Rongopai, or the good news of peace with God and with enemies, was a critically relevant message in the 1820s-30s, providing a way out of cycles of warfare. Christian forgiveness meant that utu (payment/retribution) was no longer necessary,[17] and the fact that missionaries were on hand and ready to mediate provided a practical mechanism out of war. Henry was foremost among these mediators, often working with rangatira (chiefs) to bring about peace agreements.[18]

Cultural Context

Secondly, we may ask questions about the entanglements of the Gospel and culture. How did missionary Christianity interact with Māori tradition? And what about Williams’ contribution to the study of te reo Māori and in advancing Māori education? The story told here is not the version often heard, in which (Western) Christian missions suppressed indigenous cultures. Evidence for such narratives is not hard to find in many global contexts, but we also need to see how Christian practice helped preserve key aspects of Māori and other indigenous cultures.

Church Buildings

The church buildings that sprung up across New Zealand in the 1830s–40s were the whare-style churches described by Richard Sundt: much larger than traditional whare, they were constructed with central pou (pillars), while many had kōwhaiwhai (scroll patterning) on the heke (rafters), and tukutuku (woven panels) on the walls; a few even had carved poupou (panels), the most prominent example being Manutūkē in Tūranga/Gisborne.[19] This Manutūkē building is the fourth instantiation of this famous line of churches; it is dedicated to Tokotoru Tapu (the Holy Trinity). The second version was built during William Williams’ time, over a lengthy 14 years, 1849–1863.[20]

As Richard Sundt describes, Europeans generally disliked the aesthetic of Māori carving, and Evangelical Protestant missionaries had additional, more substantial reasons for disliking carvings in places of worship, as it was seen as idolatry. Nevertheless, Rongowhakaata master carvers at Manutūkē wanted to include whakairo (carvings) in the Manutūkē church. While Williams was away itinerating for a few weeks around his extensive parish, they quickly got into their work (perhaps considering that forgiveness was more achievable than permission!).

When Williams returned, he did object to the scheme of carving denoting human figures; however, the tohunga whakairo (master carvers) reached a compromise arrangement with Williams that involved the elaborately carved manaia panels of the second Manutūkē Church, formally opened for worship in April 1863.[21] The exact meaning of the manaia pattern is debated. Still, it could denote a creature that is part man, part spirit, perhaps a supernatural being of some kind—“the messenger between the earthly world of mortals and the domain of spirits,” to quote Nick Tūpara of Rongowhakaata.[22]

Given his strong Evangelical credentials, it is surprising William Williams was comfortable with any carving, as missionary churches of that age were almost completely unadorned like their Reformation-era English counterparts. Williams, despite his conservatism, could still sound upbeat about the prospective carving scheme at Manutūkē, writing in 1849:

Carved work has seldom been seen in the country except on a small scale; indeed, few tribes know anything of the art. If our work, therefore, proceeds we shall have a more elaborate piece of workmanship than has been attempted by the natives before. It is gratifying to see so much labour bestowed upon such an object [i.e. church].[23]

Māori Christianity, or te Hāhi Mihinare, quickly became an indigenous production; the new beliefs and whare karakia were metaphorical and physical spaces in which Māori thought forms and culture were re-oriented, renewed, and re-articulated.[24] The Māori church buildings are a prime example of this, and later examples contributed to this new expression of tradition, including St Faith’s at Ōhinemutu (Rotorua) and St Mary’s at Tikitiki (East Coast).

The Williams “first four”—Henry and Marianne, William and Jane—and their children were not the primary authors of such cultural productions. However, they sometimes were necessary overseers and supporters of the more comprehensive building work, including Samuel Williams at Rangiātea, Ōtaki. They had introduced the faith that was now expressed in these new ways, ways that reinforced cultural pride and maintained tribal mātauranga (knowledge).[25] It is also probable that these monumental whare-style churches of the 1840s and 1850s influenced the construction of the large-scale meeting houses that began appearing in the later 1800s.[26]'

Te Reo Māori (the Māori language)

The Williams’ story is inextricably linked with the study of the indigenous language and with Māori education. This story begins in the 1820s, when serious translation of the Scriptures and Book of Common Prayer commenced. When William Williams arrived in 1826, this language learning and translation work entered a new phase. With other gifted linguists, William Williams translated the New Testament. It was printed by William Colenso in 1836-37 at the Paihia mission press in a run of 5,000 copies.

William Williams’ A Dictionary of the Maori Language—first edition, 1844, second edition, 1852—was, in effect, the result of his linguistic study of biblical translations. His son and his grandson continued this tradition of clerical vocation and commitment to te reo Māori (the Māori language). William Leonard Williams was baptised at Paihia in August 1829 along with the children of Rāwiri and Māta Taiwhanga—the first rangatira (chiefly) baptisms.[27] William Leonard produced the third edition of the Dictionary in 1871 and the fourth edition in 1892. His son, Herbert William Williams, published the fifth edition in 1917, reprinted twice in the early 1920s and early 1930s. The sixth edition appeared in 1957, followed by the current seventh edition in 1971.

The sixth edition broke with tradition, being a revision produced by a committee of eminent scholars, including Sir Āpirana Ngata and Pei te Hurinui Jones. Sir Āpirana had earlier helped to revise the Māori Bible. As J. M. McEwen wrote in the Dictionary’s sixth edition preface, the whakapapa of three generations of Williams editing the dictionary “is a most unusual family record, but it was, of course, an unusual family”—unusually prolific rather than peculiar or strange is the sense! “It is a pity,” McEwen went on, “that the traditional family association with the dictionary has been broken, but it remains Williams’s Dictionary and will so remain as long as the Maori language is remembered.”[28]

McEwen’s phraseology here and his reference to “dying language” perhaps reflects a broader context in which Māori language use was fighting upstream against a tide of English and urbanisation rushing downstream.[29] But the very fact of Williams Dictionary provided a storehouse of memory about the language and its use. It was a tool ready to be deployed in the new era of Māori language recovery. One illustration of its importance through the 1970s-90s period is that by the time this author purchased a copy of the seventh edition at Auckland University in 1999, it had gone through eight reprintings. Williams Dictionary is still the gold standard in terms of a learned pātaka (storehouse) of kupu (words), their meanings and derivations.[30]

Education

In 1968, Bruce Biggs was laudatory about the “linguistic genius” of William Leonard Williams and the scholarly value of Herbert Williams’ articles on the Māori language. Biggs was less laudatory about the educational policy of the settler state in New Zealand, which had “declared total war” on te reo Māori. From the 1867 Education Act onwards, all state-sponsored schools adopted English-language-only instruction “as far as practicable.”[31] This policy was foisted also upon the mihinare or church schools, which until that time had pursued a bilingual education approach—or rather, instruction was mainly in Māori, but English was taught as a second language. Even after 1867, however, the broader curriculum of these schools still employed Māori, especially as a language of Scripture and himene (hymns) in church services.[32]

As the nineteenth century wore on, the need for education at the secondary school level for higher education conducted in English became paramount. The church secondary schools, of which the notable leaders were Te Aute and St Stephens, and their female counterparts, Queen Victoria and Hukarere, were among a small contingent providing secondary education for the Māori community.[33] The male versions in this earlier period aimed to be centres of academic excellence, where aspiring and talented boys could take the matriculation exams, which were in English only, and enter university. Nevertheless, the sense that these Māori scholars were disadvantaged is reflected in a Te Aute school report prepared by the ageing Archdeacon Samuel Williams in 1904, in which English is still referred to as a “foreign language.”[34]

Rev. Samuel Williams of Te Aute is worthy of further mention here.[35] He was Henry and Marianne’s third child, a second-generation missionary of the CMS, a farmer, and an educator. Southern Hawke’s Bay chiefs and Governor George Grey gave the land for Te Aute in the mid-1850s, and a school was opened until 1859, when war threatened, and the economics became marginal. Sufficient government support for the enterprise did not continue. Therefore, Samuel, putting his farming and administrative knowledge to work – learned on the Pākaraka farm, inland Bay of Islands – ground out an agricultural empire of sheep (and cattle) beginning with the fern and swamp land around Te Aute College.[36] This agricultural empire, in turn, funded the school, which reopened in the early 1870s. In the early 1900s, Samuel Williams still donated significant sums of money to Te Aute and Hukarere.[37] He passed away in 1907.

National Context

Lastly, we should consider the influence of the Williams family on “the nation”.

Ngata and the Young Māori Party

The name of a certain Te Aute scholar appears in one of Samuel Williams’ school reports for the period 1889–1891: “Apirana Turupa” was listed as the first of three matriculation passes from Te Aute College, with an average across “English, arithmetic, algebra, Euclid, history, chemistry, and Latin” of 91.8 per cent.[38] The scholar highlighted was, of course, Āpirana Ngata, later Sir. Following his Te Aute education and completion of a law degree—the first Māori to complete any university degree—Ngata entered a stellar parliamentary and governmental career, combining this with advocacy of Māori arts and traditional knowledge. Before he reached Parliament, however, he led a social reform movement amongst Māori communities that became synonymous with the Young Māori Party. It was originally, though, the Te Aute College Students’ Association. Samuel Williams refers to the early stirring of this movement in this same school report of 1891.[39]

The Young Māori Party’s reform agenda could be critiqued as reflecting a certain strain of Evangelical or late-Victorian morality, but at the heart of it was a vision to uplift the health, social and economic status of the Māori people. And who was among the first sponsors of this movement? Samuel Williams of Te Aute. Sybil Woods recounts how the Venerable Samuel Williams would turn up at Young Māori Party conferences and amaze all with his whaikōrero (oratory).[40] All these contributions were possible because of his upbringing on the Paihia mission and at the Pākaraka farm; they were ultimately due to his Christian convictions.

Other Second-Gen Williams

Samuel Williams was an infant when he arrived with his mother, Marianne, on the Paihia beach in 1823; like his siblings, he was a native speaker of te reo Māori. Henry Williams writes a lovely account of his children back to England in the early years that captures the value placed upon the children’s lives and their individual giftings and upon the Māori language:

The little ones speak the [Māori] language nearly as well as their own [English], and Edward [8 years old] can talk to the natives a great deal better than I can. Marianne [second child] grows in stature and is acquiring some little stability, but she requires great attention. She is a dear little creature and fond of reading and learning. Samuel is a little thin fellow and curious in many respects and in great need of attention. Henry is a stout, sturdy little fellow, lively and the pet of most; he is learning his letters but much more fond of play. Thomas is equal to the others in value but can only just run about. He is attracting notice and can say a few words.... We may learn the language so as to converse with the natives but they [the children] will thoroughly understand it. And we hope by the grace of the Lord to see them engaged in his work.[41]

As history transpired, most of the children were to become intimately involved in a missionary calling of some kind. Besides Samuel Williams, several other children made prominent contributions to public life and to the church. Catherine (Kate) became the wife of Octavius Hadfield. Henry Junior became a Legislative Councillor (Upper House of Parliament), marrying his cousin Jane. The eldest, Edward, became a Resident Magistrate and Native Land Court judge. Edward, of course, also assisted with the translation of the Treaty. The linguistic scholarship of the William Williams’ lineage has already been mentioned.

One child deserves more attention from historians. In 1826, Henry Williams described the youngest, Thomas, as “equal to the others in value but can only just run about.” Thomas Coldham Williams was to show himself equal in many respects to his other siblings, as a farmer and businessman, as a supporter of Māori farming enterprise, and as someone who took a stand on matters of public moment. Like brothers and cousins, he also benefited from William Williams’ tuition in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and mathematics at Tūranga (Gisborne); he also studied for a time at Selwyn’s St. John’s College.[42]

Thomas Coldham Williams

Thomas Coldham Williams, or “T. C.” was apparently named after his paternal grandfather, Thomas, and his mother's family name, Coldham. He seems to have inherited the propensity of both genealogical streams for feisty engagement in public affairs. One example will suffice.

By the late 1850s, the Wellington Provincial Government began espying the land to the north of the Manawatū River.[43] This became the Rangitikei-Manawatū block, being all that land between the two great rivers, running from the coast to the inner reaches of Inland Patea— towards the central spine of the Ruahine ranges. The Government relentlessly pursued this purchase despite objections from the dominant iwi (tribe) in that area, Ngāti Raukawa, who applied to the Native Land Court hoping to overturn the transaction.[44]

T. C. Williams was no lawyer, but he thought he knew an injustice when he saw one. He wrote letters to local newspapers denouncing Dr Featherton’s provincial administration for this purported purchase in no uncertain terms.[45] The title of his 1868 pamphlet was The Manawatu Purchase Completed, or, The Treaty of Waitangi Broken.[46] Thomas Coldham then became the counsel for Ngāti Raukawa in the Native Land Court. In the ultimate result, the Court held that Ngāti Raukawa had only a number of sectional interests in the 250,000-acre block, meaning the Government’s purchase survived the court challenge.

A prominent legal historian Richard Boast points out that this case was really the Anglican church versus settler interests in Wellington. Ngāti Raukawa witnesses included Rev. Octavius Hadfield and Rev. Samuel Williams and two Māori clergy, Rāwiri Te Wanui and Henare Te Herekau. Boast summarises:

[William] Fox [lawyer for Crown], as a prominent settler politician, had no liking for the Church Missionary Society or the Treaty of Waitangi; indeed the two were linked together in his mind seemingly. The Crown case was very well-resourced, and Fox made a number of attacks on the Treaty of Waitangi in submissions. Williams’ understanding of the Treaty was a simple and straightforward one: it meant what it said, especially when it said that the chiefs and tribes were guaranteed possession of their lands (i.e. whatever lands they happened to have at the time of the Treaty).[47]

This is just one example of the Williams family identifying with Māori interests and te Tiriti o Waitangi in the face of injustices committed by the settler state. T. C. Williams further identified himself with Māori by signing off his 1868 pamphlet as “a native of New Zealand”—no doubt provocative for settler consciousness then, but no less genuine in his case. (The Waitangi Tribunal is currently hearing Ngāti Raukawa claims, and a restorative treaty settlement hopefully awaits.[48])

Te Tiriti o Waitangi (The Treaty of Waitangi)

Henry Williams was given less than twenty four hours to translate the English draft of the treaty— principally prepared by Captain Hobson and James Busby—into a text that Māori leaders at Waitangi and other locations would understand. Without entering into the complexities of this debate, it is possible to delineate what Williams thought he was doing (or saying) in this translation.

The treaty, as Ned Fletcher’s scholarship has recently affirmed, was about establishing government primarily over British settlers, with tribal government and custom continuing after 1840. The only exceptions to this were inhumane custom and intertribal warfare. Hobson was also to regulate the trade in land and probably would concern himself with serious crimes that involved settlers and Māori.[49]

All these aspects were in some way comprised in Hobson’s instructions from England. Henry Williams did not see the instructions. He only had the English draft text which Hobson provided, though it is likely there was some minor discussion over the text. That English draft text spoke of a cession of sovereignty to enable civil government to be established by Queen Victoria’s governor. Henry and Edward chose the word kawanatanga or government/governorship to express this. They avoided terms like mana, or rangatiratanga – probably deliberately, as the missionaries believed, certainly hoped, that Crown authority would preserve Māori control of their lands and livelihoods. The treaty was thereforeintended to preserve such chiefly or tribal self-governance, rangatiratanga or mana. This protective aspect of the Crown’s intent was expressed exactly this way in article two—and is probably what Henry was referring to when he told chiefs that te Tiriti was an “act of love” from Queen Victoria. Hence, the translation chosen for sovereignty – government – was a practical way of expressing the kind of authority the Governor intended to exercise. The emphasis was on creating the basis for civil order across British settlements and multiple tribal polities.[50]

Putting aside debates in the literature about the exact meaning or intent of the Treaty, the result was that the Māori text produced by Henry and Edward was signed by over 500 rangatira around the country. Over 180 years or more, this treaty has served as the basis for many kinds of political and legal debate. It has been a beacon of light in dark places. Considering its place in our national conversation today—even if contested— Henry’s words seem prophetic in speaking of his Māori translation, “though severely tested, [this treaty] has never yet been disturbed, notwithstanding that many in power have endeavoured to do so.”[51] In the mid-1840s, he stated: “I am satisfied the British Government can never allow its violation…”[52]

Land at Te Tii, Waitangi

It is impossible to discuss the Williams’ impact on an emerging nation without mentioning the subject of land. The histories of the land on the north side of the Waitangi River – known today as the Treaty grounds—and that on the other side—Te Tii, or ‘the lower marae’ require special mention.[53]

The story of Governor General Bledisloe acquiring the former Busby estate in the 1930s and gifting it to the nation is now widely appreciated. What is hardly ever mentioned is the part played by Vernon Reed M.P., who was married to Eila Mabel Williams, a daughter of T. C. Williams and thus Henry and Marianne’s granddaughter. Vernon was M.P. for Bay of Islands for many years, lived at Paihia with Eila, and, from the early years of the 1900s, attempted to interest the Government in acquiring the Waitangi land as a national memorial. There was some interest but limited political will.It took a Governor-General sent out from England to achieve this vision.

On a day apparently divinely appointed in 1932, Vernon Reed arranged to ferry Lord and Lady Bledisloe across the mouth of the Waitangi River in what he describes as “a small yellow-painted outboard skiff of doubtful seaworthiness.” On their return, the Bledisloe party walked over the property and visited Vernon at Paihia, where they announced their intention to acquire and then gift the property to the nation.[54] The rest, as they say, is history.

Sir Āpirana Ngata, too, quickly seized this opportunity for a piece of nation-building. The carved meeting house and the large centennial commemorations followed in 1940.

Kenneth S. Williams, a grandchild of both Henry Williams and James Busby, was a member of the first Waitangi Trust Board, joining Ngata and Reed and other Māori and Pākehā luminaries.[55] Vernon Reed was also one of the three members of the Sim Commission, appointed in 1926 to investigate the 1860s land confiscations.[56]

Possibly even less appreciated than the Williams’ connection to the Bledisloe gift is the story of the Te Tii land. Space does not permit a complete narrative.[57] In simple terms, Henry Williams acquired most of the coastal land from Ōpua through to Waitangi for the CMS over the years of the 1820s–30s; only a portion of this was granted to the Church by the Crown in the 1840s land commissions. In 1839, however, when land speculators were pressing, Henry Williams gifted the Te Tii Waitangi land back to the local hapū, Ngāti Rāhiri—through a leading chief, Te Kemara—on the basis that it would be a permanent reserve, and so they could be close to the Paihia church. In the early 1890s, some 50 years later, Henry’s sons supported the hapū claim in the Native Land Court for an award of title to this block.[58] What is now the marae block was granted title at that time (82 acres), and, in 1930, under the sympathetic Judge Acheson, the remainder of Te Tii block (around 600 acres) was awarded title.[59]

If it were not for the Williams’ influence here, it is possible that the Crown would have taken the land as surplus—such a claim was made before the 1890 hearings—and it would now be bristling with hotels. This history, which intimately connects the CMS mission and the Williams family to this land, is remembered by the hapū through the carving of Henry Williams-Karuwhā in the Te Tii Waitangi meeting house, “Te Tiriti o Waitangi.”[60]

Conclusion

As a historian, I am tempted to postulate various counterfactuals: if it were not for Vernon and Eila Reed, would the Bledisloe gift have happened? If not for the 1839 re-transfer of land by Henry Williams, would the Waitangi lower marae exist today? And what if there was no Māori text of the Treaty first signed at Waitangi? Imperial treaties were often only documented in European-language texts.[61]

Having isolated just a few leading narratives, we can characterise these three features of Christianity, culture, and nation in a slightly different way—as shaped by the Williams family and their many friends, Māori and Pākehā. First, love (or Christianity): the Williams family came here to this land to serve God and their “fellow creatures.” This lovely English word, creatures, has an earthiness, a human resonance. Their mission was spiritual, but it was very much a material one, too—concerned for the welfare of human beings in society.

Second, identity (or culture): Christianity was never just about spiritual salvation; it was about rebirthing a new humanity with a human or cultural identity still linked with the past. This statement may somewhat update the mission theology (missiology) of the Evangelical missionaries such as the Williams; and yet, it is not far off a description of what they were trying to achieve. They understood, implicitly, that te reo Māori was unique to this people, and that the truths of salvation from the Holy Scriptures could only be communicated in that heart language. Literacy was a new source of knowledge, which reshaped culture or identity, but did not erase the lineaments of indigenous society.

Third, Te Tiriti (or nation): this treaty stood for civil order, the exercise of control over lands and taonga, and equality of citizenship in a new type of society—kāwanatanga, rangatiratanga, and rights. Te Tiriti o Waitangi has come to be a distinctive marking—a moko (tattoo)—upon the face of our country. In 1840, it carried the hopes of Māori and humanitarian-inclined folk for justice, and it still holds out hope for justice and reconciliation of all those who call Aotearoa New Zealand home. Without the translation by Henry and Edward Williams, it would not be the document it has become, and is becoming, for this nation.

Kua mutu te kōrero nei. Engari me kaua ēnei kōrero e wareware i a tātou me te wā heke. (And so, this article has now concluded, but let these stories never be forgotten in the times ahead.)

Samuel Carpenter is a Research and Professional Teaching Fellow at Laidlaw College and scholar-in-residence at St John’s Theological College. His PhD focussed on early political thought in Aotearoa New Zealand. He is a founding trustee of Karuwhā Trust and previously worked in the Wellington Treaty sector.

[1] This article abbreviates a talk given at the Williams’ Family Bicentenary Commemorations, which took place in April 2023, in the Bay of Islands. In some sense, this talk reflected something of a personal odyssey of historical discovery since the year 2000. I especially acknowledge descendants and family knowledge-holders Elisabeth Ludbrook and Caroline Fitzgerald, whom I met over two decades ago.

[2] William Williams, A Dictionary of the New-Zealand Language, and a Concise Grammar (Paihia: C. M. Society Press, 1844).

[3] Brian Robins, ed., The John Marsh Journals: The Life and Times of a Gentleman Composer (1752–1828) (Stuyvesant, NY: Pendragon Press, 1998), 528 [emphasis in original].

[4] James Belich, Making Peoples: A History of the New Zealanders From Polynesian Settlement to the End of the Nineteenth Century (Auckland: Penguin, 1996), 135.

[5] See C. S. Lewis, English Literature in the Sixteenth Century, Excluding Drama (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1954), 32–35; and, famously, for the Protestant or pietistic idea of “calling”, see Max Weber, The Protestant Ethic and the “Spirit” of Capitalism (New York: Penguin, 2002).

[6] Robins, John Marsh Journals, 107­–8.

[7] Robins, John Marsh Journals, 374; Henry Williams’ maternal uncle, John Marsh, was an important composer of classical and church music in this Georgian period.

[8] See Nevil Harvey Williams, “The Williams Family in the 18th and 19th Centuries,” ca. 2009, unpublished ms., 19, 22, 30, 69: also at Williams - Early Family History and Origins of the Thomas Williams's of Gosport and Nottingham.; see also Clyde Binfield, So Down to Prayers: Studies in English Nonconformity, 1780–1920 (London: J. M. Dent, 1977).

[9] Marianne Williams to Jane Williams, 31 Jul 1845, MS 1991/75/779, Auckland Museum Library (AML).

[10] See David Bebbington, Evangelicalism in Modern Britain: A History from the 1730s to the 1980s (London: Allen & Unwin, 1989), 1–17.

[11] E. G. Marsh, diary, 1817–18 (Simon Williams’ family papers, Canterbury, NZ); also cited in N. Williams, “Williams Family,” 93–94.

[12] M. Williams, 16 Feb 1830, in Caroline Fitzgerald, ed., Letters from the Bay of Islands: The Story of Marianne Williams (Auckland: Penguin, 2004), 177. Note: the first non-death bed baptism.

[13] Baptism registers, Paihia, 1823–40, Register 1153; 1840–44, Register 1154, Kinder Library, Auckland (KL).

[14] Apirana T. Mahuika and Steven Oliver, “Taumata-ā-Kura, Piripi,” Dictionary of New Zealand Biography, Te Ara—the Encyclopedia of New Zealand: https://teara.govt.nz/en/biographies/1t19/taumata-a-kura-piripi.

[15] William Williams, Christianity Among the New Zealanders (London, 1867), 290.

[16] Hirini Kaa, Te Hāhi Mihinare: The Māori Anglican Church (Wellington: Bridget Williams Books, 2020).

[17] A complex concept, but see utu - Te Aka Māori Dictionary (maoridictionary.co.nz).

[18] Angela Ballara, Taua (Auckland: Penguin, 2003), 110–11, 159–60.

[19] Richard A. Sundt, Whare Karakia: Māori Church Building, Decoration & Ritual in Aotearoa New Zealand, 1834-1863 (Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2010). When I walked into this church in early January 2000 it was a spiritual experience that is hard to put into words: it felt ancient, yet alive and peaceful.

[20] Sundt, Whare Karakia, 121–31. The third version, built in the late 1880s, incorporated carvings from the second but sadly burnt to the ground two decades later. The fourth version was built in 1912.

[21] Sundt, Whare Karakia, 135–41.

[22] Sundt, Whare Karakia, 142. A Christian is inclined to think of angels at this point.

[23] William Williams, 10 Sep. 1849, in Frances Porter, ed., The Tūranga Journals, 1840–1850 (Wellington: Victoria University Press, 1974), 537–38 (see also 548, 589); Sundt, Whare Karakia, 141; see also Richard Sundt, “Reconstruction of a Carved Maori Church: Controversy and Creativity at Manutuke, 1849–1863 (Part I),” Journal of the Polynesian Society 117.2 (2008): 129–210; and Richard Sundt, “Reconstruction of a Carved Maori Church: Controversy and Creativity at Manutuke, 1849–1863 (Part II),” Journal of the Polynesian Society 117.3 (2008): 223–66.

[24] See Kaa, Te Hāhi Mihinare.

[25] Techniques and tools of carpentering were also European, in part: see Sundt, Whare Karakia; and William Leonard Williams, East Coast (N.Z.) Historical Records (Gisborne: Herald Office, [n.d.]), 29.

[26] Sundt, Whare Karakia, 160, citing Hirini Moko Mead and Roger Neich.

[27] Baptism register, Paihia, 1823–40, Register 1153, KL.

[28] J. M. McEwen, “Preface to the Sixth Edition,” A Dictionary of the Maori Language by Herbert W. Williams (Wellington: Govt. Printer, 1957), v.

[29] McEwen does in fact, use this phrase in the preface, ibid., vii, “This edition of William’s Dictionary is by no means the last word. There is much to be done – above all the publication of an English-Māori section. Let us hope that this need will be satisfied before long; for I have always felt that a one-way dictionary is the mark of a dying language.”

[30] A similar point was made by Archbishop Don Tamihere at the Williams’ reunion church service at Waitangi, 16 Apr 2023.

[31] Bruce Biggs, “The Maori Language Past and Present,” in The Maori People in the Nineteen-Sixties,ed. Erik Schwimmer (Auckland: Longman Paul, 1968), 67, 74; see also Colin Feslier, “Te Mana o Te Reo Māori Timeline,” Te Tai/Treaty Settlement Stories: https://teara.govt.nz/en/te-tai/te-mana-o-te-reo-maori-timeline.

[32] See Biggs, “The Maori Language Past and Present,” 83.

[33] See, for example, Our Story - Hukarere Girls' College.

[34] Samuel Williams, “Native College, Te Aute, Hawke’s Bay: Report for General Synod,” in Diocese of Waiapu, Te Aute Trust [triennial accounts], January 1904, in TAC 1/2/4, KL. Williams’ statement reads, after giving matriculation exam statistics: “When it is remembered that Maori boys are heavily weighted [disadvantaged] in the University examinations, being called upon to do all their papers in a foreign language, without the slightest concession in their favour, it will readily be acknowledged that it is no small matter for even a small percentage to come out successful.”

[35] See the excellent biography by Sybil M. Woods, Samuel Williams of Te Aute (Christchurch: Pegasus, 1981).

[36] R. R. Alexander, The Story of Te Aute College (Wellington: A. H. & A. W. Reed, 1951), 51.

[37] Total donations of £2,375 over the 1901–1904 financial years; in Diocese of Waiapu, Te Aute Trust [triennial accounts], 1904 and 1907, in TAC 1/2/4, KL.

[38] Samuel Williams, “Te Aute Native College,” [report for period 1889–1891] in TAC 1/4/7, KL.

[39] See M. P. K. Sorrenson, “Ngata, Apirana Turupa,” Dictionary of New Zealand Biography, Te Ara—the Encyclopedia of New Zealand: https://teara.govt.nz/en/biographies/3n5/ngata-apirana-turupa.

[40] Woods, Samuel Williams, 252.

[41] Fitzgerald, Marianne Williams, 114 [emphasis added].

[42] Allan Davidson, Selwyn’s Legacy: The College of St John the Evangelist, Te Waimate and Auckland, 1843–1992 (Auckland: College of St John the Evangelist, 1993), 25, 31.

[43] See Richard P. Boast, “Ngati Raukawa: Crown, Colonisation and the Crown, 1820–1900,” report commissioned by Crown Forestry Rental Trust, Wai 2200, #A215; and Richard P. Boast, “Evidence Summary,” Wai 2200, #A215(b), 7–14.

[44] For the Ngāti Raukawa migration, see Angela Ballara, “Te Whatanui,” Dictionary of New Zealand Biography, Te Ara—the Encyclopedia of New Zealand: https://teara.govt.nz/en/biographies/1t86/te-whatanui.

[45] For example, Thomas C. Williams, 4 July 1866, Auckland, Daily Southern Cross, 5 July 1866, 5: Papers Past | Newspapers | Daily Southern Cross | 5 July 1866 | Page 5 Advertisements Column 1 (natlib.govt.nz); Thomas C. Williams, Auckland, 24 July 1866, Daily Southern Cross, 30 July 1866, 5: Papers Past | Newspapers | Daily Southern Cross | 30 July 1866 | Page 5 (natlib.govt.nz); Thomas C. Williams, 15 June 1868, Taita, Wellington Independent, 20 June 1868, 6: Papers Past | Newspapers | Wellington Independent | 20 June 1868 | THE MANAWATU PURCHASE. (natlib.govt.nz).

[46] Thomas C. Williams, The Manawatu Purchase Completed; or, The Treaty of Waitangi Broken (London: Williams and Norgate, 1868).

[47] Boast, “Ngati Raukawa,” Wai 2200, #A215(b), 12; see also Richard Boast, The Native Land Court, 1862–1887: A Historical Study, Cases and Commentary (Wellington: Brookers, 213), 551–78.

[48] See, for example, Ngāti Raukawa Waitangi Treaty claims to be heard in Levin | Stuff.co.nz; also, Upcoming events | Waitangi Tribunal.

[49] Ned Fletcher, The English Text of the Treaty of Waitangi (Wellington: Bridget Williams Books, 2022); see also Samuel Carpenter, “Review of The English Text of the Treaty of Waitangi, by Ned Fletcher. Bridget Williams Books, 2022,” in New Zealand Journal of History 57.1 (2023): 93–94.

[50] See also Samuel D. Carpenter, “Te Wiremu, Te Puhipi, He Wakaputanga me te Tiriti/ Henry Williams, James Busby, a Declaration and the Treaty,” Waitangi Tribunal research commission, 2009.

[51] Henry Williams, “Early Recollections,” [n.d.] in Hugh Carleton, The Life of Henry Williams, vol. 2 (Auckland: Wilsons & Horton, 1877), 12.

[52] H. Williams to Rev. E. G. Marsh, 14 Jan 1846, Paihia, in Carleton, Henry Williams, vol. 2, 133–34.

[53] The story of Williams’ purchases for his children and his struggle against Governor George Grey’s accusations will be re-narrated in the forthcoming biography. Existing scholarly treatments of this issue, which exonerate Williams, include W. P. Morrell, The Anglican Church in New Zealand: A History (Dunedin: John McIndoe, 1973) and J. Rutherford, Sir George Grey, K.C.B., 1812-1898: A Study in Colonial Government (London: Cassell, 1961), 128–41.

[54] Vernon. H. Reed, The Gift of Waitangi: A History of the Blesdisloe Gift (Wellington: A. H. & A. W. Reed, 1957), 14–15.

[55] Sheila Robinson, “Williams, Kenneth Stuart,” Dictionary of New Zealand Biography, Te Ara—the Encyclopedia of New Zealand: https://teara.govt.nz/en/biographies/3w21/williams-kenneth-stuart.

[56] J.C., “The Raupatu Case: Maori War Confiscations, An Investigation at Last,” Auckland Star, 26 Oct 1926, 9: Papers Past | Newspapers | Auckland Star | 26 October 1926 | THE RAUPATU CASE. (natlib.govt.nz).

[57] See also Samuel Carpenter, “Land and Memory: Reflections on the Williams’ Story: from Pēwhairangi to Pouerua,” lecture, St. Paul’s Paihia, 4 Feb 2014.

[58] Native Land Court, Northern Minute Book no. 10, Sep. 1890, 161–76 (evidence by John Williams); July 1891 [rehearing], 353–82; Northern Minute Book no. 11 [rehearing cont.], July 1891, 1-48 (evidence by Edward M. Williams and Henry Williams Jnr.); Henry Williams Jnr., Diary, March-April 1891 (Jon Williams family private papers); see also Waitangi Marae, Nga Tikanga me Nga Kaupapa o te Marae: Basic Marae Protocol, [undated], which mentions the gift back to Ngāti Rahiri of 82.5 acres.

[59] Rose Daamen, Paul Hamer, and Barry Rigby, Rangahaua Whanui District 1: Auckland (Waitangi Tribunal, 1996), 175–80; Native Land Court, Bay of Islands Minute Book no. 8, 197–99, 262–63; Paula Berghan, “Northland Block Research Narratives,” vol. 8, 2006, Wai 1040, #A39(g), 317.

[60] The building of which in the early 1880s was referred to several times in the 1890s Land Court evidence, including by Edward Williams and Henry Williams jnr.

[61] See M. P. K. Sorrenson, “Treaties in British Colonial Policy: Precedents for Waitangi,” in Sovereignty and Indigenous Rights: The Treaty of Waitangi in Indigenous Contexts, ed. William Renwick (Wellington: Victoria University Press, 1991), 29.