Above us in their beauty, and must reign Receive the truth, and let it be your balm. To those who have dwelt with pleasure on the poetry of classical antiquity it would be unnecessary to point out how purely classical, and yet how superior in much to its classical models this beautiful poem is. To those who have not the means of comparing "Hyperion" with these models, we can freely trust it to make its own way upon its own merits. One and perhaps the most remarkable characteristic of Keats' mind was its intense sympathy with nature. Everything in nature had a voice, and a living individuality for him, and so wonderfully highly wrought were his perceptions that it resulted in imparting a voluptuous sensuousness to his poetry, which would most likely have been in great measure toned down and corrected had a longer share of life been allotted him than was actually the case. In none of his poems is this more markedly apparent than in his "Ode to a Nightingale," which probably arises from the fact that in such short pieces we see more of the personal existence of the poet than where he throws himself rather into an imaginary world: My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains Of beecher green, and shadows numberless, O for a draught of vintage that hath been Dance, and Provençal song, and sun-burnt mirth! O for a braker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,- Limited space, however, compels us to close this short notice of one whose poetry has now stood the test of a generation and-a-half without losing any of its influence, but rather becoming more and more familiar in our minds and mouths as household music. What Keats might have been, had his life been spared we can only conjecture, but our conjectures springing from our knowledge of what he has left us, can scarcely fail to make us participate to some extent in the feeling expressed in that noblest of poems, the "Adonäis" of Shelley, and to conclude that amongst all the bright throng of "inheritors of unfulfilled renown whom the world has seen, the name of John Keats ought to obtain the very foremost place. FREEDOM. WHAT is Freedom? 'Tis the spirit, Time when stern oppressors were not, When the crowns of earth shall fall K. H. THE WAR IN AUCKLAND. 66 ARMA VIRUMQUE CANO." WAR appears to occupy the same place in regard to the conditions of human society that the hurricane does in atmospheric phenomena. It is a desolating agent; but it restores the natural equilibrium, and gives stability for the time to that which is salutary. Without war, as a stimulating and equalising agent, man cannot for any lengthened period, work out his destiny as an intelligent and progressive creature. Argue as men may, that we are rapidly approaching a period when wars will cease to devastate, and universal peace prevail, we cannot agree with their conclusions whatever we may think of their postulates. Man's nature and the experience of all ages is against them. It may be, and doubtless shall be, the case, that man's intellectual development will be such as to lead to the conclusion that all his actions will be squared in accordance with the soberest dictates of reason; but our conviction is that until his moral nature is entirely changed-until, in fact, he ceases to be the creature we call man-wars will remain a necessity of his existence. We hold, therefore, that wars are inevitable under certain conditions, and that they are as necessary as they are inevitable. We have a war at our own doors; let us, therefore, carefully trace the course of events, not with the view of espousing any side in the contest, but to ascertain, if possible, what has been done to bring it to a successful issue -a satisfactory and lasting peace. And perhaps no more favourable time than the present could be selected for such a task. The war has now entered on a new phase of its development, and the steps towards peace, taken in future, will be marked by the victories won, and strategic positions occupied, by the British troops. Reference to the past, therefore, cannot affect the future. The question at issue now will be solved by collision of forces, and not by a well meant but silly policy of palaver, carefully elaborated in the Cabinet, and indifferently executed by the agents in detail. Let us, therefore, refer to the past, which has become matter of history. Facts are plentiful, and if failures can be classed in the category of facts, they are scattered over the pages of our colonial history for several years back Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks At the outset, we will designate the present war, as a war for the sovereignty of New Zealand. There is no denying the fact that there is a degree of cohesion amongst the aboriginal tribes of this island which is not the least remarkable circumstance in this strange affair. We can imagine men becoming troublesome when too well treated, as is literally the case with the Maoris, for ingratitude is more common to mankind than gratitude; but it is an extraordinary circumstance that so many conflicting elements should combine for a common object, at the risk of utter destruction, or at least the certain curtailment of those favours which have advanced the aborigines of this country to a more than ordinary degree of prosperity and comfort. This circumstance gives the present struggle more than usual importance. It raises it, in fact, to the dignity of a war for political independence on the one part; and on the other, to acquire the sovereignty of the country by conquest, and by force to establish the blessings of law and order amongst the community. War has, therefore, become a necessity to us. Civilization must give way to barbarism if we shrink from the conflict; and prudence and duty alike impel us to prosecute it with vigour. We shall take this war for the conquest of New Zealand to have commenced actively in March, 1860, when the Waitara purchase was made the plea of action by the Government, although the natives' opposition in this case was by no means an exceptional exhibition of their insolent contempt for the supremacy of the Crown and the laws. It is evident, to a candid inquirer, on reading the public records of the period, that the representative men of the Maori people had, with undeviating persistency, forced on this final struggle between the two races in the North island. There is no difficulty in detecting this covert purpose in their acts of aggression, their language, and contempt of authority, long previous to the date of the open rupture in the beginning of 1860. The fault of the Government, (and it was a cardinal error) was to ignore this attitude of the Maori people, and narrow the cause of war to the dispute regarding Wi Kingi's title to the Waitara block. The colony and the Queen's Representative thus placed themselves in a false position, from which they seemed unable to extricate themselves. Indeed, with singular shortsightedness, the political leaders in the colony did not appear conscious of their folly, and rung the changes on Waitara until the British people became impressed with the conviction that the colonists of New Zealand had brought about a costly war with the natives, to become wrongfully possessed of a paltry 600 acres of waste land on the banks of the Waitara. On no other hypothesis can we explain the language of the English press in reference to this colony; but the speeches in the General Assembly, the pamphlets published on the subject, and the more ephemeral articles in New Zealand newspapers, certainly do justify, to our mind, the imputation by the English press, that the colonists of New Zealand forced on a war with the natives, nominally to acquire possession of a moderate sized farm, but really to secure the large military expenditure which necessarily follows the presence of several thousand troops in the country. It is scarcely necessary to state that the damaging speeches and writings referred to, have been proved, by events, to have been uttered and penned (let us charitably hope) in complete ignorance of the spirit and intentions of the Maori people, and the nature of the struggle that had then begun in this colony. The effect of the colonial policy-for the colony is bound by the political acts of its representative men-was to provide an excuse to the Maori leaders, justifying their violent conduct, and placing the colony in the wrong. The Maori leaders instantly perceived the great advantage they secured by adopting our definition of the cause of war, and to their credit be it said, they made the most of it. VOL. I.-No. 7. 2 A It never struck colonial politicians that the alleged cause of war was altogether disproportioned to its magnitude; but if they had reflected, they must have perceived that such was the case, and been led to the conclusion that Waitara was only an excuse, under cover of which the Maori people were establishing their tribal and individual independence of law and authority, and restoring their waning prestige as a warlike race by an appeal to arms. The great bulk of the native population took no pains to conceal their real design, but their attitude was disregarded, and the pacific professions of their politic and sagacious leaders were accepted as the sincere professions of honest men, and not understood in their diplomatic sense. The result of the whole has been, that whereas the colony and its administrators narrowed and made everything hinge on the Waitara purchase, the Maori leaders took advantage of Waitara, and our attitude regarding it, to push vigorously forward their great design of retrieving their race from the embarrassments of civilization, and the meshes of law. They were being conquered in an inglorious way by the ever-flowing and placid tide of civilization, and their fierce spirit rebelled at this. The aves of a new life wrippled on their sandy beach, and overflowing the country, obliterated as it flowed every trace of internecine strife. The Maori felt himself borne down in the noiseless flood. He had floated on the coming tide at first, and like a strong swimmer struck out manfully, giving promise of a great future. But his efforts were in vain. Farther and farther this tide of a strange life carried him away on its sparkling and treacherous surface from the old land-marks he loved so well, and the swimmer lost heart. He attempted to swim back against the flood, but it was now impossible. He had left far behind him the habits of his father's home. While he floated with the stream it was easy work; when he turned to stem the flood, he had to encounter a rapid current, whirling him about, giddy and sinking, in its capricious eddies. And now he collects his last energies for a desperate effort to regain a footing on the rugged mountains and lonely glens familiar to his savage childhood. He opposes barriers to this tide of civilized life; and sooth to say, until a recent period indeed, it seemed as if he would be successful. The Maoris took their stand upon Waitara, while it was possible for them to use it as an excuse; when that ceased to be possible, however, they were at no pains to conceal their real designs. They instantly shifted their ground, and prepared to make good their pretentions to independence by a general rising of the tribes, emissaries to enlist recruits having been labouring for that purpose for a couple of years at least, throughout the North island. How far they will succeed in their object events as they occur alone will tell. Our task is not, however, to speculate on that, but as reviewers to revert to the conduct of the campaign of 1860, having already referred to what we consider the cardinal political error of that period. And our remarks on the campaign of 1860, from its commencement to its close, will be few. It does not require a lengthened disquisition on military tactics to support the view we take of that campaign, as the results supply the key by which to unravel the mystery of our defeat. From the beginning to the end of the campaign every act of the military commandants was characterised by irresolution or incapacity. There was a dread of responsibility which, wherever it exists, paralyses the arm that wields the sword. Strategy there was none, |