QUALTROUGH BIOGRAPHIES
BACKGROUND
This background is based on chapter 2 of A Quota of Qualtroughs (authors Elizabeth A.
Barlow and Joy McDougall, published in Matamata, New Zealand by Elizabeth A. Barlow in
1984), by kind permission of Elizabeth Feisst. For further information on Qualtroughs
worldwide see http://www/qualtrough.org.
The name Qualtrough, like many Manx names that begin with a Q, is of Celtic-Norse origin,
and derives from the McWhaltrough clan of Kentraugh, an important estate of early times.
The land was given, tradition has it, to the first McWhaltrough (or Mac Whaltroughe) in
Mannin Beg (Isle of Man) who was said to be a half-brother of one of the Norse kings.
The Kentraugh estate in its heyday comprised twelve farms, three mills and a large house
and a number of smaller farmhouses and outdwellings. Ancient Manx records show
Kentraugh Mill was working as far back as 1506, owned by a Robert Qualtrough
(McWhaltragh).
A great stone wall ran along the foreshore and is still in existence. Some say this wall was
built as an effective shelter against the wild storms of the Irish Sea, others that it was a
bastion of defence against invaders; yet others that the powerful southside family of
Qualtroughs built the wall as cover for their private and possibly dubious activities –
smuggling of whisky and rum-making, maybe. The gates to the driveway of the house were
operated mechanically, shutting out intruders.
The Qualtrough name was recorded as far back as 1430 with a William and a Jenkin Mac
Qualtroughe being named as Members of the House of Keys (Manx Parliament). In the
16th, 17th and 18th centuries some of the family were Deemsters – the lawmakers in
various districts of the island who were judge-and-jury in settling disputes and punishing
wrongdoers. And there is a ballad telling of the jaunty deeds of one, Captain Harry
Qualtrough, a privateer on the side of the British in the Napoleonic Wars – the “Tiger
Privateer” it is called.
Fame and fortune wax and wane. Certainly the Qualtroughs tumbled from their pinnacle.
Information taken from Mona Douglas’s book, They lived in Ellan Vannin, tells how one of
the hereditary owners of Kentraugh lost the ancient seat through the application of a harsh
Manx law in the early 19th century.
He had mortgaged the property for £300 (sterling) – quite a sum of money in those days.
The mortgagee, claiming financial difficulties, forced the closure of the mortgage and the
Qualtroughs were doomed. In default of cash payment the claimed not only the value of
the money loaned, with interest, but the estate, including household chattels. This was the
entitlement under the law of the land, no matter how harsh.
Had the Qualtroughs not suffered loss of lands and position by the action of kinsmen, it is
unlikely that there would be New Zealand lines of the family today.
JAMES QUALTROUGH (1808 – 1881)
This biography is transcribed from chapters 4, 5 and 6 of A Quota of Qualtroughs (authors
Elizabeth A. Barlow and Joy McDougall, published in Matamata, New Zealand by Elizabeth A.
Barlow in 1984), by kind permission of Elizabeth Feisst. For further information on
Qualtroughs worldwide see http://www/qualtrough.org.
Text in square brackets [ ] refers to matters in A Quota of Qualtroughs that are not included
in the biography below. The explanatory note in double square brackets [[ ]] at the
beginning of chapter 5 is not part of that chapter.
4 Family Exodus of 1859
Who was Who in the JAMES QUALTROUGH family bound for New Zealand in 1859:
James Qualtrough (51)
Catherine Qualtrough, nee Clague (47)
James, Jnr (23)
Elizabeth Jane (20)
William (19)
Richard (12)
Anne (10)
Thomas (8)
Sarah (6)
Emily (4)
Two sons, both named Henry, had died in childhood. The first Henry died the year he was
born (1843). The second Henry, born in 1845, died in 1852.
Their second daughter, Catherine (15) stayed behind with an aunt and an uncle on the Isle
of Man. [(See Genealogical Charts 1 and 4 – 8).]
JAMES QUALTROUGH was 51 in 1859 when he left the Isle of Man to settle in New Zealand –
not an adventurous boy but a man of middle-age who must have weighed up the pros and
cons thoroughly before making the decision. His wife, Kitty, also entering into her middleage, had borne 11 children.
James, birthplace Arbory, Rushen Vale, in the southern end of the Isle of Man, was the son
of William and Catherine (nee Moore) Qualtrough and he had three sisters – Elizabeth,
Margaret and Jane.
[(A few words here about these Manx kinsfolk may make it easier to follow our Family Tree
later on.] Elizabeth, a dressmaker, did not marry. She died in 1881. Margaret married
Edward Keig, sometimes spelt Kegg, and they had a daughter, Betsy and a son Edward. Jane
married John Hudgeon. There were no children of this marriage.
Margaret’s son, Edward, married Christian Moore and they produced three daughters
named Kathleen, Irene and Marjorie. Marjorie married Herbert Pedder. [See Genealogical
Chart 1)].
Going back to James himself, he had married Kitty (nee Clague) at Malew in 1835. Kitty
Clague was the daughter of James Clague and Barbara Kinley, of Ballawhetstone, MAlew.
Just why their daughter Catherine stayed behind when the rest of the family migrated is not
wholly clear except that she seems to have spent with the childless Aunt Jane and Uncle
John Hudgeon of Ballakillowey.
Perhaps there was a pull of heartstrings – at 15 years of age Catherine could have been
courting. The eldest Qualtrough son, James Jnr. had spent much of his youth with his
grandmother Qualtrough, going back to his parents upon her death in 1856. Communities
were close to each other.
The names sound formal, copied from documents. The owners were almost certainly called
Jim or Jamie, Kitty or Kate among family and friends, for in James’ shipboard diary[, as you
will see,] the children are referred to by the diminutives of their given names.
In much later years their nephews or nieces – some of whom are living at the time of writing
- used the shortened name with, of course, a respectful prefix of Aunt or Uncle.
It must have taken courage, faith, optimism – and surely a degree of desperation – for a
middle-aged couple with eight children to pull up stakes from a settled land and sail to an
unknown country on the other side of the world and start all over again.
The Isle of Man was a rural community with little employment for young people other than
to work the land. Farms had been supporting families for generations and had been divided
and sub-divided. Most holdings were small, most families were big. What could the future
promise?
In New Zealand the Government was enticing the “right” kind of settlers – good,
experienced farming folk of some substance – with what was popularly called the “40 acre
scheme.” (Officially the Auckland Wastelands Act of 1858). To emigrants who could pay
their own passage out the Crown would grant land – allotting 40 acres per adult and 20
acres per child above five years of age and under 19 years of age.
James must have been struggling for some time before the decision to emigrate. It seems
he had inherited debts from both his father and father-in-law and was obliged to meet
them.
The decision was made. Most of the land that was James’s, comprising three farms, one in
the north and two in the south of Man were disposed of, belongings were packed. It was
good-bye forever to mystic Mannin Beg – Isle of Fairies – where Qualtroughs had lived for
hundreds of years.
Towards the end of June (1859) James and Kitty and the family turned their backs on their
Island homeland and their past and crossed to England to make ready for the long voyage to
the new land. How their thoughts must have been with Catherine who stayed behind. The
tears must have flowed at the moment of parting, the hearts ached.
They made for Liverpool where their ship awaited them. It was the Mermaid, already
famous for a race against the illustrious Red Jacket in 1854 on the competitive LondonMelbourne run. Mermaid had lost upon that occasion but nevertheless she was the pride of
the White Star line, a clipper of 1321 tons built in Nova Scotia in 1853 and destined 50 years
later to be wrecked of Southport on passage from Liverpool to Quebec.
She was making her first – and only – voyage to Auckland. Thereafter she was to serve the
London-Lyttelton run under the Shaw Savill flag (by charter until 1869 when she was
purchased) and to make waves in nautical circles with a record voyage of a mere 75 days
from Lyttelton to the English Channel (unloading on the 78 th) in 1862.
Such a feat was this that Mermaid was accorded a heroine’s welcome when she sailed into
Lyttelton in February 1864. The then LYTTELTON TIMES reported that other ships in port
flew bunting and fired a salute to her master, Captain Rose.
The first sight of the ship, black-painted hull a foil for the pine-yellow topmasts and furled
white cotton sails must have imprinted itself on the minds of the young Qualtroughs.
Author James Cowan (son of Elizabeth Jane) in his SETTLERS AND PIONEERS, writes of the
Mermaid:
“The figurehead, carved by a craftsman of rare skill, was the most lovely mermaid ever
chiselled. Her long, blue-black hair, as sleek as a seal’s coat, fell and flowed as to the life and
in keeping with tradition, she held a comb and a glass in her hand. The siren advanced,
bowing with the rhythmic progress of the ship, ushering the sea rover into the realms of blue
water. The swell sometimes buried her generous bosom as the bow fell into the hollow and
with the next heave upward, lifted her on to the crest and bared her graceful dolphin tail.”
Then again:
“Looking outboard one would have seen that the vessel had a broad yellow band along her
covering-board, defining her sea-kindly sheer and her high lift of bow. No make-believe lines
of painted gun-ports chequered her sides. That fashion of 13 dummy ports aside was left to
the British ships....... double top-sails had just come in in the Merchant Service but so far the
Mermaid’s owners preferred the old-style whole sails.”
Mermaid’s master was a Captain White and he was taking some 400 passengers of various
classes out to a new life in a new colony – English, Irish, Scottish, German and, it goes
without saying, Manx. It must have taken some planning on the Qualtroughs’ part. Imagine
the foodstuffs, clothing, medicines, toiletries, books and other domestic needs for the long
voyage for 10 souls plus such household effects that could be taken on a ship which were
considered essential.
On July 11 the Mermaid was towed down the Mersey River towards the open sea. On July
she spread her three columns of canvas, the proud and serene figurehead rejoicing in the
tang of the Irish Sea which the Manx family were never again to sail upon – save the eldest
son James Jnr. 22 years later following his father’s demise – and it was southward ho!
James Snr. was a tall, good-looking man, educated, courteous, religious and with a dry sense
of humour. This we deduce from a photograph taken of him and Catherine before their
departure; and from the writings of his diary and descriptions to James Cowan by his
mother (Elizabeth Jane also called Betsy). Jimmy Cowan was about 11 years old when his
grandfather Qualtrough died so he would have had some personal memories himself.
The version of James Qualtrough’s diary following on here is one of the copies scattered
throughout our family. The original was held by the late Mr. J. A. (Bert) Kinley of
Ballafesson, Isle of Man, a descendant of daughter Catherine.
We only wish that James had continued to keep such a diary of his life in New Zealand.
Catherine in the photograph, looks neat, well-dressed and slightly formidable, much less a
relaxed person than her husband. But who is to say? Perhaps she just took a poor picture.
And with a husband and seven children to look after (James Jnr and daughter Catherine
living with relations) body-and-mind must have been on the go from morning to night.
There were no labour saving devices as we know them.
Upon Kitty and 20-year-old Betsy must have fallen the bulk of the thousand-and-one details
of preparing for the family’s personal needs upon the high seas. According to entries in
James’ diary, Kitty was also active in helping sick and distressed fellow-passengers
throughout the 100-day voyage. Most of all she kept her own dear ones alive and healthy
from Mannin Beg to Aotearoa and throughout the years as early settlers.
The voyage was lively. Tragedy, drama, comedy trod the deck of the ship as surely as ever
trod boards of theatre. Entries in James’ diary set the springs of imagination a-bubbling.
5. Voyage to New Zealand
[[Explanatory note: James wrote diary entries most days between Friday 15 July and
Wednesday 19th October 1859. They relate mainly to the weather (particularly when it
caused issues for sailing the ship) and the location, with some notes about life of the
passengers on board ship. Only the introduction and the first two and final two entries are
included here.]]
Diary of the late James Qualtrough. The MERMAID left Merseyside 11 July 1859 and arrived
Auckland 19 October 1859.
We left the Mersey on the 11 July 1859 about 5 o’clock in the afternoon, tugged by the tug
boat RATTLER belonging to the tug company. She did not leave until Wednesday morning at
8 o’clock, when the MERMAID set sail and made her own way at about 8 knots an hour. In
the afternoon most of the passengers became very sick. On Thursday the 14 th we had
something like a hospital on board. The worst of us were James and Ellen Martin. I have
been very sick myself but I have never lost my spirits. I have been able to join in our prayer
meeting with a measure of delight.
Friday 15th Today when I write, the children are playing about in good spirits. My dear wife
and Betsy are beginning to knit and to sew. James and Ellen Martin are a good deal better.
We have all day long an hubbub, something like a fair with 400 on board.
.....................
Tuesday 18th We are surrounded with coast fowls, from the Islands, all around, of which I
think there are some dozens in numbers. Some small smacks and wherrys trading on the
coast. The signals from hill to hill tell a ship has reached Auckland now. The first ship that
came within hearing, the Captain called out. “What ships are in Auckland?” He was pleased
to hear that the MAORI was not in.
Wednesday 19th About 10 o’clock last night, after we had anchored, the pilot came on
board. This morning we got near the wharf in good health.
James Qualtrough
6.
Early Years in Pakuranga
IT WAS Spring in New Zealand when the jaunty Mermaid swept into Auckland waters well
ahead of her illustrious rival, the Maori, on 19 October, 1859.
Triple-coned Rangitoto, awesome guardian of the Waitemata, a volcanic peak merely
dormant, dominated the other half-dozen offshore islands.
“Waitemata? It means ‘sparkling waters’.”
The translation rippled through the ship as excitement mounted. The end of the voyage!
Old gravures show Auckland of those days with wooden jetties on a shoreline no longer in
existence, high up in what is now a multi-storey Downtown of Auckland City. There were
buildings – the first warehouses and business offices, hotels, private guest-houses, a few
shops and silhouetted on the skyline, Partington’s Mill. Here and there, a horse-team drawn
cart, a bullock wagon, a saddled horse, await further orders and pedestrians moved
gracefully on cobbled streets. The men, in narrow-legged trousers, longish jackets and high
hats, escorted ladies in full skirts, bonnets and often with parasols. Pictures which included
Maoris showed them in European clothing with tattooed faces, many of then bewhiskered,
some with long greenstone ear pendants, somewhat incongruous in their sartorial
anachronisms.
Grafton Gully – no bridge as yet – had masses of feathery tree ferns, tall kahakiteas and
puriris, topped by an occasional kauri in silhouette, highlighted by a stand of golden kowhai
in bloom.
There was much open space among the stolid brown buildings, land that sloped away to
open country which rolled towards green hills and blue skies on a long horizon.
Auckland in October: warmth in the sun and a brisk sea breeze scudding clouds that held
suggestions of a passing shower across the slender neck of land separating the Waitemata
from the Manukau. On the waterfront investigating seabirds, keening and exultant in their
discoveries, must have touched chords of memory for the immigrants whose home shores
were far away.
James had been allocated Crown land out from Papakura, about 45 kilometres southward
from Auckland, in the Hunua bush. Exactly where we haven’t been able to ascertain. It
comprised approximately 120 hectares on the arithmetic of the 40-Acre Scheme.
After the preliminaries and formalities of landing and the business at the Land Office, the
Qualtroughs were introduced to a bush settler-farmer who lived about two kilometres away
from their allotment. He was to take them by bullock cart to their land and give them a
hand settling in. James paid him £1 (sterling) a day, which he did not consider excessive in
view of the work and time involved; and no doubt for the useful information he could
impart.
Papakura was on the Great South Road, which had evolved from the portage tracks of the
Maoris to a highway metalled as far as Drury. There was actually a daily coach service from
Auckland to Drury, run by a Mr. William Young. It was known, grandly, as the “Auckland,
Papakura and Drury Diligence.”
It would not have accommodated the Qualtroughs and their possessions, though, for
according to THE NEW ZEALANDER, issue dated 23 December 1857, it was capable of
carrying .... “nine substantial yeoman or traders and even nine ladies (provided their several
courses of vestments were not open to Mr Punch’s rebuke) with comfort and without distress
to the horses.” The PUNCH reference was to a topical joke taken from the famous magazine
which was eagerly-awaited reading from ‘Home’.
From James Cowan’s SETTLERS AND PIONEERS comes the following information on the
Qualtrough’s first night in the bush – and New Zealand.
“.... The height and thickness of those trees and the density of branch and leafage amazed
the stalwart stranger who stood gazing at them, axe in hand. Their boughs stretched far
overhead, they were looped together with a rigging more intricate than a ship’s; cable-like
grey ropes, round as hawsers and as strong, hung down from the hazy ceiling, like ropes in
some woody belfry.
“.... The axeman walked out from the bush fringe to the tents gleaming against the dark of
the tall timber. In the little camp there were two tents and a tarpaulin shelter for the piles of
baggage trunks, shipboard chests, boxes of food stores and a hundred supplies.
“While he (James snr.,) had explored the bush edge and tested the tree-temper with eye and
nose and axe, his family had reduced the miscellaneous loads from the bullock-dray to some
order against the night.
“.... Most of their land was covered with standing bush – a tall forest of red and white pine,
puriri, rata, kohekohe; on the hills the great kauri; but timber is of no use to the pioneer after
enough had been pit-sawn from it for the home buildings. The rest would have to go up in
smoke and add to the fiery pall which would presently cover most of the bushland sections.”
Betsy’s most vivid memory of that first night in the bush was of the meal that the
mosquitoes made of their faces – “the stinging flies” they called them.
Their neighbour (unnamed) came around the next morning to tell them he had arranged
with a group of Maoris down at Papakura Creek to build the newcomers a nikau whare to
live in until they could put up a more permanent dwelling.
“.... Two cheerful young Maoris came up and greeted the pakehas. Both could speak some
English. They set to on a neat whare with beautifully-made walls of nikau palm leaves,
artistic as well as useful, with a thick roofing of fern-tree fronds. By the end of the second
day, with the assistance of the white family in cutting, fetching and carrying, there was a
rain-tight house, one that would be cool in hot weather and warm and windproof in cold....
.... “gradually the settler and his family fitted themselves into the conditions of the country,
on the edge of the interminable forest. It was not so very difficult for these country-bred
folk. They cut their way slowly into the bush with the nearby Maoris to call upon for help
and bush-sense. When a little ground was cleared the neighbour lent them his bullocks and
plough. To the Maoris a few pounds of tobacco and gifts of clothes were more acceptable
than money.”
James Cowan observes that the friendly and helpful spirit of the Maoris helped mightily in
establishing immigrants on the land in the first two decades of British settlement.
Unfortunately it did not last. He writes:
“In the third year of the MERMAID family’s life in the bush the Waikato war began. The
kindly Maoris of the South Auckland country were forced into the struggle ....
“.... That unhappy check to the peaceful subjugation of the bush and the winning of a
livelihood from the newly-turned soil altered the course of life for many a border family. The
tragedy of war, like so many far greater wars before and since, could have been avoided. At
any rate, the frontier settlers and the Maori farmers were not the warmakers.”
Perhaps the rumblings of war were behind the decision of James to change his land. We can
only speculate on the reasons. Perhaps the distance from church and school played a big
part, for James was a deeply religious man, well-educated and keen for his children to be
educated.
Perhaps he realised that to turn virgin forest into farmland would take more years of primeof-life than he felt he had left to him. Perhaps the isolation was too much for Catherine and
the girls.
Documents show that James Qualtrough, farmer, of Papakura, purchased land at Pakuranga
from Alfred Buckland, stock and station agent, on 4 December, 1860. He bought 118 acres
32 perches (47 hectares) on the main Panmure-Howick highway for which he paid £1,180
(sterling).
East Tamaki, Howick and Pakuranga were already well settled. The populace included
retired soldiers, men of the Royal New Zealand Fencibles who, on leaving military service,
were given a cottage and an acre of land.
Thousands of immigrants were to arrive in the Auckland areas in the 1860’s and TamakiPakuranga land was favoured for its relatively easy access by water or across country to the
port of Auckland, about 23 kilometres away.
The area was good land for wheat and vegetable growing, with ready markets at Howick
where troops were stationed, and in Auckland itself. Wheat was transported in sacks to
Partington’s Mill – known as the Victoria Flour Mills – and butter and eggs were sold.
For 15 years (1850-1865) access to Auckland across the Tamaki River depended upon a punt
operated by a Joseph Williams. According to records this was a pretty uncomfortable,
dangerous experience for those forced to use it. The punt was often holed, or its guiding
chain broken; and the transport of stock by punt could mean delays of an hour or more.
There was a strong current at the point of crossing and mishaps were common.
In his book OLD MANUKAU, historian A. E. Tonson writes:
“.... The traffic crossing in 1862 was quite considerable and the daily average was about 180
settlers and children, 58 horses, 23 carts and 100 cows and sheep.”
Prompted by dissatisfaction from the settlers, the Tamaki Bridge Act was passed in 1864 and
a bridge was put across the river in 1866. A. E. Tonson writes:
“The settlers were able to cross on a new 19-span bridge built of materials brought over
from Australia. Costing £17,025 (sterling) the bridge was 576 feet in length and with a width
of 21 feet and at the Papakura end was a swivel apparatus which opened to provide a
passage of 40 feet for large vesels.
“.... In 1916 a new 800-ft concrete bridge was opened and this remained until demolished in
1963 after being replaced in 1959 by the present bridge.”
A. E. Tonson draws a graphic picture of the bridge in use in early days. viz:
“Travelling to town from Pakuranga was quite an event in the early years and on Fridays,
dressed in their best, the various families with horse and trap would head for the city
market. The toll to cross the bridge was 6d for a horse and cart. As cutters used the river, it
was often a race to reach the bridge before the gates were closed and the keeper cranked
the span around.”
Not all towngoers went in style. It was quite common for the young and sturdy to walk the
distance there and back, sometimes carrying a 25-kilo. sack of flour on their shoulders on
the return journey.
A school was not officially established in the locality until 1869 – weekly fee 9d for seniors,
6d for juniors – but James had his younger children taught privately, paying one shilling per
week per pupil. The schoolroom was set up in the teacher’s home.
James was a prime mover in having the Methodist Church at Howick, then a predominantly
Catholic population, moved to Pakuranga for the use of faithful Wesleyans. [(See chapter
on history of the church.)]
James and Catherine died in the same year – 1881 – and both are interred in the graveyard
on the site of the church before it was moved to the Howick Historic Village.
We don’t know too much about life at Pakuranga between 1860 and 1881. Certainly it was
not a land flowing with milk and honey if James and Catherine had expected such, which is
most unlikely.
Although the land was fertile there were two exceptionally bad winters between 1860 and
’63 and the latter year also saw the outbreak of the Waikato Wars which disrupted the lives
of all families. Within three months of war being declared, on July 12, all able-bodied men
between the ages of 16 and 55 were on active service. Youths under 16 and men turned
down for active service trained for the Home Guard.
Although Pakuranga was not actually attacked, Maori raiders killed isolated settlers and
looted their homes as close to the settlement of Howick – where the Militia was stationed –
as Whitford and Maraetai. A family named Trust (how ironic!) were massacred only a
couple of miles from Howick in a particularly brutal and unjustified killing.
The Waikato Wars ended officially in 1864 and Auckland areas at least settled into peace.
But the year of fear had imprinted itself into the minds of the young Qualtrough children for
both Thomas and Emily, though aged only 12 and 8 respectively at the time, told tales of
burying valued possessions in the front garden of their house in case the family had to flee
to safety. Tommy, though so very young had duties with the Home Guardsmen should the
area be attacked, fetching and carrying guns and water – so he said. Memories of his help
being appreciated might have been a little dramatised in true ‘boy’ fashion.
The farm was still financially encumbered upon James’ demise. James Jnr. took it on
although he himself had a small piece of land at Karaka. By this time Willy, Richy and
Tommy had gone off to seek their fortunes in the Waikato, which was forging ahead as the
Golden South of the 60’s and 70’s.
JAMES QUALTROUGH (JNR) 1836-1896 maintained family farm
This biography is transcribed from chapter 7 of A Quota of Qualtroughs (authors Elizabeth A.
Barlow and Joy McDougall, published in Matamata, New Zealand by Elizabeth A. Barlow in
1984), by kind permission of Elizabeth Feisst. For further information on Qualtroughs
worldwide see http://www/qualtrough.org.
Text in square brackets [ ] refers to matters in A Quota of Qualtroughs that are not included
in the biography below.
JAMES, more than likely called Jimmy, eldest of the family had spent much of his youth with
his paternal grandmother but returned to his parents’ home upon her death in 1856 when
he would have been 20.
He was a young adult when the family migrated and in the only reference of a personal kind
we have been able to find – James Cowan’s SETTLERS AND PIONEERS – he is described,
along with his much younger brother Richy as “.... giving promise of a strength and
sturdiness to equal their father’s.”
Jimmy worked on the Qualtrough farm at Pakuranga and seems not to have ventured
further afield than Auckland. Property deeds record that he did have land of his own at
Karaka. With changes of nomenclature over the years and lack of detail, it is hard to be sure
if the land was in the area we now know generally as Karaka, out from Papakura, or closer
to the Tamaki area now known as Karaka Bay.
Of all the family he was the only one to return to the Isle of Man, going back in 1882 as
executor of his father’s will to settle up affairs on the Island. [(See Appendix II)]
After an absence of 22 years and as a man approaching his middle-age did he have regrets
over leaving his homeland? Was he disappointed that reality failed to recapture the glow of
boyhood memories? What were his feelings towards his sister’s motherless children? He
must have visited them and must have stood beside the grave of the young Catherine,
recalling the years of childhood, the parting and the exchange of letters.
He returned to the farm at Pakuranga, rejoining sisters Anne and Emily, the latter away from
home a lot after she became a professional nurse.
The family, by this time, had dispersed. Betsy and Sarah had married earlier as had Willy,
now farming at Orakau. Tom, a young widower, was contracting in the Waikato and Richard
we understand had gone to Australia.
In 1886, at the age of 50, James married Miss Alice Farnsworth, of Otahuhu, daughter of
early settlers. Although he had no children of his own, James must have had an interest in
their welfare, for records show that he was a member of the Pakuranga School Committee
in 1886 and in 1893 was elected to the Auckland Education Board.
James was unable to lift mortgages on the family farm and had to let it go. This was
sometime in the years of 1891-1892. His last years seem to have been in poor health and he
died in 1896 at the age of 60. He is interred beside his parents in the churchyard cemetery
at Pakuranga. [See Genealogical Chart 4).]
RICHARD QUALTROUGH (1847-1921) - medal for service
This biography is transcribed from chapter 7 of A Quota of Qualtroughs (authors Elizabeth A.
Barlow and Joy McDougall, published in Matamata, New Zealand by Elizabeth A. Barlow in
1984), by kind permission of Elizabeth Feisst. For further information on Qualtroughs
worldwide see http://www/qualtrough.org.
Text in square brackets [ ] refers to matters in A Quota of Qualtroughs that are not included
in the biography below.
RICHARD, called Richy as a child and Dick later on, must have inherited his father’s strength,
according to James Cowan’s references to pioneer days.
As a very young man, and like brothers William and Thomas – he left Pakuranga to make a
life for himself in the developing Waikato. He joined the Waikato detachment of the Armed
Constabulary Field Force, a body similar to the Canadian North-West Mounted Police, but
more actively involved in warfare than the “Mounties”.
The Armed Constabulary had been formed in 1868 to assist the militia keep the peace
following the outbreak of the New Zealand Wars and reached its peak of activity and
renown in Taranaki against the Hauhaus between 1879-1883.
The “Men in Blue” were courageous, settler-farmer background who could ride well, shoot
straight and were prepared to defend what they considered their own. Even after the
official end to hostilities the Armed Constabulary patrolled borders, accompanied parties of
surveyors pushing through new roads and manned the redoubts and blockhouses set up for
the protection of settlers from Maori raiding parties.
Dick Qualtrough was among those awarded The New Zealand War Medal for his services
(under the list of medallists he is called ‘Quatborough’ so the Manx name must have been
an odd one even then) and gained the rank of sergeant. He took part in an exploration of
the Cambridge -Te Awamutu main road with a party lead by Sub-Inspector Stuart Newall.
The Armed Constabulary was dissolved in 1885 and the Militia kept the peace thereafter.
Stuart Newall, with the rank of Lieut-Colonel, left New Zealand with the Fifth Contingent for
the Boer War and had previously – May, 1898 – commanded the force that settled a dispute
in the Waima Valley, near Rawene, in Northland.
Richard Qualtrough, however, like so many settlers who had lived and worked beside the
Maori in a harmonious relationship, had no real heart for fighting. He slipped off to
Australia (to avoid further military service, it is said within the family) and wandered around,
out of touch with his brothers and sisters until 1919, and a sick man, he returned to New
Zealand to spend his last years with his kinsfolk.
He stayed a short time with Tom and his family in Hamilton, then went to live with a niece,
Alice McGhie (William’s eldest daughter) and her husband George, at Kihikihi. Later he went
to live with another niece, ‘Bunny’ Schwarz (William’s fifth daughter) and her husband
Bruno, at Matamata, where he died – nursed by his sister, Emily – in 1921, aged 74.
He is interred in the Hautapu Cemetery, Cambridge. [(See Genealogical Chart 4).]
ANNE QUALTROUGH (1849-1908) - quiet and kindly lady
This biography is transcribed from chapter 7 of A Quota of Qualtroughs (authors Elizabeth A.
Barlow and Joy McDougall, published in Matamata, New Zealand by Elizabeth A. Barlow in
1984), by kind permission of Elizabeth Feisst. For further information on Qualtroughs
worldwide see http://www/qualtrough.org.
Text in square brackets [ ] refers to matters in A Quota of Qualtroughs that are not included
in the biography below.
LEAST of all is known about ANNE the third daughter. She remained single and following the
death of her parents, when she would have been about 32, she moved into the city to be
with her sister Emily, a professional nurse.
They shared a small house in Cobden Street, Newton, then a residential part of Auckland,
along Karangahape Road West. Nieces recall that “Aunt Annie” was similar in looks and
disposition to the younger, lovable Emily and was very kind to them when they came from
the country to visit their aunts.
Emily and Annie didn’t have much to come and go on but Annie would set the table
beautifully for afternoon tea, even if it were only a simple one of bread and butter, recalled
one niece, the late Mrs Elsie Smith, who was Tom Qualtrough’s second daughter. The kindhearted Annie would sprinkle sugar on the children’s bread and butter to make it more
palatable to young taste buds.
Annie had a skin problem of some sort and never went out in public without wearing a hat
fitted with a short veil. Perhaps self-consciousness heightened a natural reserve, and
possibly she was not robust for she died in 1908 at the early age of 59. She too, is interred
at Pakuranga in the family plot. [(See Genealogical Chart 4).]
ELIZABETH JANE QUALTROUGH (1838-1918) battleground their farm
This biography is transcribed from chapter 7 of A Quota of Qualtroughs (authors Elizabeth A.
Barlow and Joy McDougall, published in Matamata, New Zealand by Elizabeth A. Barlow in
1984), by kind permission of Elizabeth Feisst. For further information on Qualtroughs
worldwide see http://www/qualtrough.org.
Text in square brackets [ ] refers to matters in A Quota of Qualtroughs that are not included
in the biography below.
The eldest daughter, ELIZABETH JANE, more commonly called BETSY, was named after two
of her father’s sisters. She was a buxom young woman of 20 when she accompanied her
parents to the new land.
She appears to have been a practical, efficient sort of girl, ‘right hand’ to a busy mother both
on the Isle of Man and as a pioneering newcomer in a strange land.
She married in 1866 (around 27 years of age) WILLIAM ANDREW COWAN, a widower, son of
Irish landowners in County Down, who had emigrated to New Zealand in 1863.
Bill Cowan had immediately been caught up in the defence service for war clouds were
amassing on the horizon of South Auckland, a preliminary to the Waikato outbreak. All
able-bodied males between 16 and 55 years of age were called up to train. He was
stationed at redoubts in the Wairoa ranges between Auckland and the upper boundaries of
the Waikato District. These would have included Howick and East Tamaki.
More than likely Bill Cowan would have met Betsy at church functions or socials to entertain
the militia.
Following their marriage Bill and Betsy Cowan took up land in the Waikato, previously a
grant to an officer of the Waikato militia, Captain T. C. Speedy, and sold to them. Part of the
farm lay across the site of the famous Battle of Orakau.
(A granite monument erected in 1914 marks the site of the battle although only slight
outlines of the trenches are now evident. An Historic Places plaque indicates the Maori and
Imperial troop positions at a point where the Kihikihi-Arapuni road cuts through the pa site).
The young Cowans settled down to farming and bringing up their large family, in the first
years living under threat of Maori retribution for confiscated lands. Bill Cowan was second
in command of the Te Awamutu troop of cavalry under Major William Jackson of Forest
Rangers fame. The cavalry patrolled the frontiers of the King Country frequently, protecting
settlers from marauding Kingites. Many Maori still bitterly resented the inroads the
pakehas were making into the King Country.
Betsy produced eight children – a daughter, Elizabeth Mary, who died in infancy and seven
sons. The boys were James, William, Robert, John, Henry, Charles and Walter.
James Cowan inherited his grandfather’s penmanship, and his close association with the
Maori in his boyhood gave him a deep understanding of, and respect for Maori Culture. He
became an authority on Maori matters and a writer of considerable distinction firstly as a
journalist with THE AUCKLAND STAR then as a New Zealand Government Historian and
author of international repute. He was mad a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society.
James was married twice. His first wife was Eunice Nicholas, a part-Niue Islander, who died
in 1909. His second wife was Eileen Stowell, a part- Maori, daughter of Henry Matthew
Stowell, a native interpretor known also as Hare Hongi. Eileen Cowell died in 1968.
William, who made a name for himself as a horticulturalist, particularly with roses and
chrysanthemums, did not marry and lived in Auckland most of his life. Robert, a civil servant
(Railways), married Mabel Coldicutt, of Auckland; John (Jack) entered the New Zealand
Police Force and for many years was resident constable at Pukekohe and featured in a
number of headline-making trials. He married a Dunedin girl, Helen Brown.
Henry, a bachelor all his life, inherited the family farm which he later sold and replaced with
another in the Waikato. On retiring from the land he lived in Auckland. Charles died as a
young man; Walter married Annie Elizabeth Gilmour and for a number of years worked in
the timber industry in Auckland.
In one of his books, SETTLERS AND PIONEERS, James Cowan writes of his early boyhood
thus:
“The farm lay with a gentle tilt to the north. Wheat was much grown and gave large yields.
Memory lingers on the many peach groves and cherry groves, Maori planted, laden with the
largest and sweetest fruit ever grown.”
(The Rev. John Morgan, ‘civiliser’ of the Upper Waikato in the period 1842-1861, had
introduced British horticulture to his native flock and the region was exceptionally selfsufficient and prosperous.)
“.... The farm life was comfortable and happy, however primitive in some ways. Peaches
fattened the pigs; even the horses and cattle munched those peaches. We had everything
we needed; to the youthful mind that knew no other life it was endless comfort. I came to
know later how short cash often was and how settler and storekeeper often had to resort to
the barter system in which no money passed.
“Later on I carried to the township (Kihikihi) every Saturday on the saddle in front of me a
box of home-churned butter. We got fourpence a pound for it, not in cash, but took it out in
groceries.
“.... We were happy at home; those evenings were never monotonous. We had books at any
rate. I don’t know how modern youth would survive a revival of those movie-less, radio-less,
jazz-less evenings (J.C.’s words in 1940; add T.V., fast cars and fast foods to that!) the only
sound from the outside dark the wailing call of the weka in the swamp and the bittern’s
occasional muffled boom.
“.... candles were made by the farmer’s wife from tallow; I remember the tin moulds used.
Smelly candles they were, but better than nothing, especially when kerosene was hard to
get.
“The flax-bush was all-important. No farmer could have done without it, for a score of
purposes. The down or pollen of the raupo flowerhead was a substitute for feathers or
kapok in filling cushions.
“Harness was made in the early farming days from green cowhide cured with salt and alum.
Plough and bridle reins and stirrup leathers were manufactured in that way. Floor mats and
carpets were made by Maori neighbours and on these were laid dressed and dyed
sheepskins.
“.... The housewife made much use of the abundant fruit. The big honey peaches were cut in
slices which were strung with darning needle and thread on string and hung out in the wind
and sun to dry; then they were laid out on boards or on sheets of corrugated iron, thoroughly
dried in the hot summer sun and finally hung up in festoons in the rafters of the kitchen for
future use in pies.
“There was no factory-cured bacon in the pioneer days, for there were no factories. We
dealt with our pigs on the farm and we had a hand in every stage from sty to kitchen.”
Betsy’s days would be full, being a good farm wife and mother. James Cowan recalls that his
mother was a very reserved person but kind.
She would have known the infamous warrior Te Kooti for, fighting days past, he was
respected and even honoured. James Cowan writes:
“Te Kooti was our neighbour in 1884-85. He had a Government allotment, a gift from a
grateful, or relieved, country; it was in Kihikihi township and he had a camp for awhile on
Andrew Kay’s farm just where the Orakau defenders made their desperate, forlorn attempt
to escape.
“He was a man of middle size with grey hair and sparse grey beard. His features were finely
cut, his strong nose aquiline, his expression determined, dogged. He was not tattooed, his
frame was spare, his shoulders slightly stooped. One of his hands was mangled by a
Government bullet in the 1869 campaign.
“The war-worn veteran and spiritual medicine-man (he practised faith healing) often passed
through Kihikihi township attended by his faithful cavalcade. In his later years he rode in a
buggy with his two wives, stern, resolute looking women who composed his body-guard
against revengeful attack by some old enemy. Reputedly each carried a loaded revolver in
her blouse”.
Life was not all work. One of the highlights of the year was the Kihikihi racemeeting. In
1886 Te Kooti entered a horse, a grey gelding named Panirau (‘many orphans’) for the Cup.
No-one remembers now whether he won or lost.
The Cowans left the Waikato in 1893 to settle in Auckland, living first in Lower Grafton Road
and later in Devonport. Bill Cowan died in 1913 aged 73, Betsy died in 1918 aged 80. Both
are buried at O’Neills Point Cemetery, Devonport.
Nieces of Betsy – sometimes referred to rather stiffly as “Aunt Cowan” – remember her in
her older age as a formal person of upright character and bearing, not given to flippancy or
fripperies in dress or demeanour. [(See Genealogical Chart 4.)]
WILLIAM QUALTROUGH (1840-1919) - ’Wiremu’ –Waikato identity
This biography is transcribed from chapter 7 of A Quota of Qualtroughs (authors Elizabeth A.
Barlow and Joy McDougall, published in Matamata, New Zealand by Elizabeth A. Barlow in
1984), by kind permission of Elizabeth Feisst. For further information on Qualtroughs
worldwide see http://www/qualtrough.org.
Text in square brackets [ ] refers to matters in A Quota of Qualtroughs that are not included
in the biography below.
William (Willy) seems to have taken to the pioneer life like the oftquoted duck to water and
was not one to get his feathers ruffled easily.
He had pride in his appearance, too, for as a youth walking all the way from Pakuranga to
Auckland town on business trips, he would go barefoot, carrying his boots under his arm to
keep them clean to change into on hitting Queen Street.
The route the foot-sloggers followed took them around the beaches, over by ferry to Pt.
England, across St. John’s College area, into Parnell via a bridge at Hobson’s Creek, then to
Mechanics Bay and up the hill to Shortland Street and Queen Street.
He served in the Waikato War and, with a younger brother, Tom, went contracting in the
district before settling on a farm.
He courted Catherine Mary Lovie, who lived in Panmure, and would ride horseback from Te
Awamutu and Roto-o-Rangi at a weekend to visit her. It was 100 miles over rough country
with several streams to ford and the swift-flowing Waikato River to cross – by punt – at
Ngaruawahia. Willy would set off early on Saturday, arrive in the evening, eat with and talk
with his Kate and leave the next day.
The horses of those days were, it seems, even tougher than the men.
Willy and Kate married in 1872 and settled on a property he acquired at Orakau after the
confiscation of Maori lands when the Waikato War ended. They produced a family of eight
– all girls – most of whom were born at Orakau.
The children were Alice, Elizabeth, Margaret, Anne, Mary, Amy, Kate and Lilian.
Their fifth daughter, Mary, told her own family that she had started school at four years of
age, walking the four miles each day to the schoolhouse at Kihikihi.
At one time in their childhood, when Willy and Kate were called way from home, they were
reluctant to leave their daughters alone in such an isolated spot so enlisted the aid of an
older nephew to act as protector. The girls remembered the night very well for, amusing
themselves by telling ghost stories, they worked themselves into such a state of terror, the
male stalwart as well, that they nailed blankets over the windows and doors to keep out the
spooks.
The family later shifted to a farm at Kihikihi and a vivid memory was of the eruption of
Tarawera in 1886. The rumblings of the fiery mountain blowing its top were clearly heard
and the skies were darkened by the ash.
Another story handed down concerned a young lad shopping with a penny during the lean
days of 1880 “A farthing worth of sugar, a farthing worth of flour, a farthing worth of
candles and a farthing change please” he instructed.
Inflation obviously hadn’t been invented then and there was more truth in the old saying, “A
halfpenny’s riches in a farthing’s eye.”
Willy had been brought up in a strictly Methodist home. Kate Lovie was an Anglican. The
children were Presbyterians. Perhaps it was a studied compromise; maybe just the
propinquity of the kirk. Their children’s memories were of a very happy home life with good
neighbourliness instilled by example. Farmers in the district helped each other with
haymaking or when stock was in trouble calving, or bogged in swampy paddocks.
Because Willy had no sons he allotted many farm tasks usually considered men’s work to his
girls. The most hated was digging the potatoes. Milking and feeding calves were more
popular for the animals were regarded as personal friends.
On one occasion Willy being unable to leave the farm, he assigned Annie and Mary (nicknamed ‘Bunny’ from babyhood) to take a wagonload of pigs to the bacon factory at
Hautapu. The girls set out at dawn. Taking the pigs over a primitive road that seemed to go
on forever, meeting an old Irish woman on the way they asked her the time. “Half past
o’clock,” she informed them. And no doubt it was.
When darkness fell and the girls hadn’t returned, the family became anxious about them.
At last Willy said, relief in his voice, “Here they come!” Though he couldn’t see them he
could hear the heavy squelching of the horses’ hooves as they plodded through the swamp.
William had many Maori friends and was affectionately called Wiremu – wonder what they
made of the name Qualtrough? The family was present when a monument to the chief
Rewi Maniapoto was unveiled at Kihikihi with Rewi himself watching the ceremony from the
verandah of the hotel across the road.
In 1902 the William Qualtroughs bought a farm at Fencourt, just out romf Cambridge. (Now
the Fencourt Stud). Realising that a creamery was needed in the district and that the
Cambridge Dairy Company was not able to finance it, Willy donated an acre of his land for
the project and local farmers provided the labour for the factory to be built.
An old barn on the Fencourt property became the community centre for the district and the
Qualtrough girls had happy memories of dances, with music provided by accordion, magic
lantern shows and wedding parties to which people came from miles around.
Kate Qualtrough tells the story of a friend who, when off to visit them, met a quail on the
road. “Where are you going” asked the girl and the quail replied in perfect English (said
she),” To Qualtroughs! To Qualtroughs! To Qualtroughs!”
The word must have got around – all welcome, ladies a plate – or just a ‘flight’ of fancy?
At the dances, it added to the fun to make up rhyming couplets about those present. From
a box of memories comes : “Did you notice there the two Miss Q’s who were arranged in
navy blues.”
Prior to and during World War 1, William gave permission for the army to use his land for
troop training. A letter in his family’s possession is a note of appreciation from MajorGeneral Godley, dated 13 May, 1913. It reads:
“.... I desire to express my very sincere thanks to you for the valuable assistance you have
rendered to the Territorial movement in the Auckland District by permitting the free use of
your land for manoeuvres during the recent Brigade Camp.
“Exercises in the field, to be of value, should not be cramped and the fact that the troops
were able to move about, unrestricted, over a large area of ground, contributed in no small
degree to the great measure of success which was undoubtedly achieved and which was
almost entirely owing to your generosity.”
William’s last move was to a smaller farm closer to Cambridge. The property had a
picturesque two-storey house set among magnificent old trees including magnolias and
rhododendrons. Two giant redwoods at the gate were landmarks in the district.
Appropriately, it was named ‘the Glen’.
The grandchildren and great-grandchildren can recall Christmas and other family gatherings
with tables set outside beneath the flowering and rich-scented magnolias.
When the gentle Catherine Mary died in June 1919, Willy was so grief-stricken that he said
to his daughter, Kate : “In six months’ time I shall be with her.”
And he was. He died December 31, 1919.
They are both interred in the Hautapu Cemetery, Cambridge.
The Qualtrough girls - except Lizzie, who died in 1907 of consumption – all made their
homes in the Waikato.
Alice married George McGhie, a farmer of Kihikihi; Maggie wed Henry Feisst, a farmer of
Matamata; Annie and Mary (‘Bunny’) married farming cousins, Ernie and Bruno Schwarz,
respectively. [(See further reference in chapter on planning the Reunion).] Amy married
Charlie Shaw, who was employed at the Cambridge Cream Factory; Kate and Lil remained
single and lived together in Cambridge for many years. Rather charmingly, if olde worlde,
they were referred to locally as Miss Kate and Miss Lil. [See Genealogical Chart 5).]
CATHERINE QUALTROUGH (1844-1872) – the girl they left behind
This biography is transcribed from chapter 7 of A Quota of Qualtroughs (authors Elizabeth A.
Barlow and Joy McDougall, published in Matamata, New Zealand by Elizabeth A. Barlow in
1984), by kind permission of Elizabeth Feisst. For further information on Qualtroughs
worldwide see http://www/qualtrough.org.
Text in square brackets [ ] refers to matters in A Quota of Qualtroughs that are not included
in the biography below.
OF ALL the Qualtrough children CATHERINE is the one who captures the imagination most.
The second daughter, she was only 15 when her parents made their momentous decision to
emigrate to the other side of the world.
She lived with her aunt and uncle, Jane and John Hudgeon, at Ballakillowey. Just why, as
previously commented upon, we are not sure, but it is certain that family ties were strong as
the poignancy of the following letter shows. It was written by Catherine to her parents on
January 21, 1860.
My Dear Father and Dear Mother,
We received the welcome news of your safe arrival (in N.Z.) 10 of January (i.e. nearly three
months later) and I think you can better imagine than I can describe the feelings of our
minds after half a year of fear and great anxiety. I received your paper and Aunt Betty the
letter the same day. The sight of the paper brought tears into our eyes and joy into our
hearts. We were delighted to hear of your good health and spirits and hope this letter will
find you in the same it leaves us all at present, except that we are cast down often when we
think of the distance between us, but we hope it all will be for the best. I suppose if you give
encouragement to us we will be out in New Zealand yet.
It has been a very dry summer and a very stormy winter this last year. When you write I
hope you will tell us all particulars. Ned Gale has shifted to Baldwin and Johnny to
Strandhall as Gawne has let most of the land. The .......... is gone but .......... is in yet.
William Walker is in part and Johnny Gale in the rest of the place.
Many enquiries has been made for you and many good wishes and many prayers been sent
unto the Throne of God on your behalf.
We hope you will not forget us as you are always in our thoughts both asleep and awake.
Aunt Jane was very uneasy about you as she was often dreaming about you. When we will
receive your next letter we will write you. Do not forget to remember me often to the little
ones. Tell them I will never forget them. Remember us all to James and Willie. Tell Betsy to
write. I hope Richard and Anne and Thomas will be going to work or else to school. Let me
know when you write whether Sarah and Emily is ever speaking of me.
When I will write again I will tell you all the news as my paper is nearly filled. With my kind
love to my dear brothers and sisters, I remain, my dear parents, your affectionate and dutiful
daughter,
Catherine
In 1868 at the age of 24 Catherine married James Kinley. She had three children – Jane,
John James and Thomas – then, tragically, died in 1873 aged 29.
Her daughter married John Harrison and produced four daughters; John James Kinley
married and had two sons; Thomas Kinley drowned in 1896 while still a bachelor.
Catherine is buried in the Rushen churchyard, Isle of Man.
Poor little Catherine, reaching out in her imagination thousands of miles across oceans to
her loved ones, never saw them again after their departure from the Isle of Man.
But her letter to them came alive touchingly when it was read aloud at our Family Reunion
by her great-great-granddaughter, Violet Corlett, of Douglas, Isle of Man, in her soft Manx
accent that turned back the pages of history to a spellbound audience. [(See Genealogical
Chart 6).]
THOMAS QUALTROUGH (1851-1944) – first to own plough.
This biography is transcribed from chapter 7 of A Quota of Qualtroughs (authors Elizabeth A.
Barlow and Joy McDougall, published in Matamata, New Zealand by Elizabeth A. Barlow in
1984), by kind permission of Elizabeth Feisst. For further information on Qualtroughs
worldwide see http://www/qualtrough.org.
Text in square brackets [ ] refers to matters in A Quota of Qualtroughs that are not included
in the biography below.
THOMAS, though little more than a stripling, went off to the Waikato, seemingly the Mecca
of young men keen to get on, once the land wars had ended. He had grown up on the farm
at Pakuranga and attended a small private school.
At 21, he was the first man in the Waikato to possess his own plough and he worked as a
contractor around the district, including the large Firth estates of Matamata, breaking in
land. He also owned land at Orakau.
It was hard work and it had its dangers. One of the stories he used to tell his family and,
later, his grandchildren, was of the occasion in 1873 when he was ploughing land on the
Grice and Walker cattle run at Roto-o-Rangi. As he drove his team afield a party of Maoris,
armed, appeared out of the Manuka scrub and ordered him to go back.
They told him that the land was still disputed and warned him that if he pushed ahead he
would be killed. Tom Qualtrough spoke Maori and understood their character. They
frequently gave fair warning of their intentions and there was much bitterness still at the
sale of land they considered theirs.
Tom returned to the station and reported the incident, refusing to complete the contract
until the argument was settled. Management ridiculed the threat and ignored Tom’s advice
to go and talk it out. But Tom stayed firm. “I know the Maori,” he said. “He doesn’t warn
you for nothing.”
Others went out the next day and the Maoris struck. One man, Timothy Sullivan, was shot
and tomahawked. His head was cut off and his heart cut out and these were carried
through the King Country in a gruesome procession of triumph. It was particularly bad luck
for Sullivan as the Maoris were after Walker, the part-owner of the station and his manager,
a man named Parker.
Tom also told of seeing the old chieftain Te Kooti under interrogation and playing ‘possum’,
pretending unconsciousness. Someone lighted a match under his nose and with a yell Te
Kooti came to life.
Both Willy and Tom were excellent horsemen and thought little of riding from the Waikato
to the Tamaki at a weekend to see their parents and to court their girls. Willy had his eye on
Kate Lovie, Tom was keen on Jane Bell, of Pakuranga.
On one occasion Tom rode from the Waikato to Pakuranga on the Saturday and on the
following evening men at the frontier-station at Roto-o-Rangi were astonished to see Tom’s
horse, without rider, saddle or bridle, come trotting up and put his head over the gate. It
seems that the horse had got out of his paddock at the Pakuranga farm and made short
work of the journey home – 320 kilometres in two days taken, literally, in his stride. The
horse must have swum the Waikato River at Ngaruawahia on his way home for it is unlikely
the punt operator would have given a riderless horse a free crossing; who knows? Perhaps
the animal had horse-sense enough to wait for a group of people to assemble to cross and
mixed with the crowd.
Thomas was 28 when he married Jane, the daughter of a Pakuranga landowner David Bell
and his wife Mary. They lived out from Cambridge at Taotaoroa and the following letter
from the newlywed Jane to a niece, Jane Andrew, of Pakuranga, was written on December
16, 1878.
“Dear Jane,
I was so pleased to hear from you and I suppose you have been expecting an answer to it
long before this, but I hope you will excuse me this time. I will try and not be so long in
answering your letters.
They were telling me the last time I heard from them down there (Pakuranga) that you and
Georgina recited your dialogue so well at the Good Templars entertainment and I hope you
enjoyed yourself that night.
I often think of you all down there and wish I could come to see you sometimes. I have got
very few neighbours up here and I felt very lonely for awhile at first but I am getting used to
it now. We live near the road to Matamata and there are a lot of people passing every day
to and from Cambridge.
“We are milking three cows now and I churn in a bucket as I have not got a churn yet. It
takes a long time to come sometimes. There was one week I was churning for about six
hours and Tom took a turn and he thought some warm water would fetch it. But I told him I
had put some in before and I went away to get a dish to put the cream in and as soon as my
back was turned, he got a kettle and poured in all the boiling water thinking to surprise me
with the sight of butter when I came back. It was all melted and we just had to bake it up.
He never tries the boiling water since that.
“I suppose Christine is growing a big girl now. I hope Benjamin is quite strong now and that
all the rest of my nephews and nieces are quite well, not forgetting your father and mother.
I hope Georgina will be able to come up here and stay awhile at Christmas. It seems such a
long time since I saw them all down there. I expect they are all kept busy with the harvest
and dairy. They have not commenced to cut any hay up here yet. The harvest must be a
good deal later up here than down there. John King said when he came up they were all
mowing their hay down there and that is more than a month ago. I suppose you will be
having your Christmas holidays down there; are you going away any place to spend them? It
is a pity you could not come up here with Georgina. I would be so glad to see you but I
suppose your mother could not spare you so long away on account of wee, wee Christina
being so little yet.
“Tell your father he is to be sure and come to see us when he comes to the Waikato. I have
not seen your Aunt Hannah yet. I think I will go and see her soon now as I have got a pony
and saddle.
“Dear Jane, I will have to draw to a close for the time. Hoping this will find you all well, give
my best wishes to your father and mother, brothers and sisters and accept the same for
yourself from your
Affectionate Aunt
Jane Qualtrough
(Please write soon.)
Another lonely little lady, Jane, the miles separating her from her loved ones. Sadly, Jane
died in childbirth a year later and Tom remained a widower for seven years.
On August 4, 1886, he married Mary Ann (Polly) Prince, 23 years old youngest daughter of
Mr. & Mrs. Joseph Prince, English settlers at Alexandra (now known as Pirongia). The
Princes had moved from Pirongia to Ohaupo where Joseph Prince had set up the first
Waikato Blacksmith business in 1877.
(This Ohaupo home, typical of its day, was demolished about 1975 and had been on the
Great South Road between Ohaupo and Te Awamutu, a weatherboard cottage with its living
rooms in front and sloping down room by room to a low storage shed at the back. It was
not far, and on the opposite side of the road, from the small hillside cemetery where a
number of Prince forebears are interred.)
Polly was very musical and played the harmonium for the Sunday services of the Anglican
church at Alexandra (Pirongia) a sturdy building that had doubled as a redoubt for the
settlers when attack by Maoris threatened at the time of the wars. The church was
surrounded by a moat and had a drawbridge.
It was said that Polly could play the service in the dark, a feat no doubt achieved from
necessity as the church had only one oil lamp hanging in the centre of the nave. After
marriage to Tom Polly attended church nearer home, St Paul’s Methodist Church in
Collingwood Street, Hamilton. Polly, a well-made good-looking young woman of strong
character and lively personality, had the voice of an angel, so it was said (but, alas, not a
temper to match, also said!).
Not only did she sing in the choir for 25 years but passed on her musical abilities to others in
the family. (A daughter, Elaine, had an outstanding contralto voice and was trained by a
leading teacher of singing of the day, Mrs. Cyril Towsey).
Tom and Polly produced six children, two of whom were the oldest – and nearest – direct
descendants of the emigrant family at the time of our Reunion in 1979.
The children, five girls, one boy, were: Catherine Amy; Elsie Mary; James Thomas; Ida Emily;
Elaine Annie and Ruby Constance.
Amy married Charles Hardley, one of a plumbing supplies family business in Auckland; Elsie
married George Smith, a builder, of Te Awamutu; James worked for the (then) Farmers’
Auctioneering Company as an insurance assessor in Hamilton and married Scots-born
Minnie Creighton, of Auckland; Ida married William Martin, a storeman, and lived in Te Kuiti
for many years; Elaine married Douglas Hooper, a contractor then farmer of Otorohanga
who later retired to Morrinsville; Ruby married Norman Lee, a watchmaker and jeweller, of
Te Awamutu.
(It is an interesting sidelight that Norman’s father, the Rev. William Lee, minister of the
Grafton Road Methodist Church in his last circuit, used to conduct services at Pakuranga at
times then dine with the Qualtrough family in their farmhouse afterwards.)
Tom had set up in business as a butcher in Hamilton in 1879. His slaughterhouse and runoff then occupied 30 hectares of land which is now part of the Frankton Junction railway
yards.
He and Polly first lived in Victoria Street (now the centre of the city) situated on the same
section as the butchery business but about 30 metres behind and to one side of the shop,
up a wide driveway.
A story from an early copy of the WAIKATO TIMES, written by G. H. Roche, concerns a
practical joke perpetrated at the time:
“It seems there were persistent rumours of a ‘monster’ having been seen in the
Waitewhiriwhiri Creek which fed into the Waikato River at the (then) No. 1 Bridge.
“A couple of pranksters acquired a bullock’s head from Qualtrough’s slaughterhouse,
dressed it in a white sheet, and set it up in a tent in the saleyards while a sale was in
progress. They charged one shilling per person to witness the unveiling of the ‘monster’
which took place when the tent was full.
“The joke was not appreciated; verified, wrote Mr Roche, by the fact that no-one could be
found in town who would admit to having seen the show – although, later, the Waikato
Hospital benefited from a donation of a couple of pounds (sterling) paid in single shillings.”
(Twenty shillings to the pound in those days.)
Did Tom ever learn who the practical jokers were? No-one could get more from him than a
quiet smile.
Somewhere about 1902 the Qualtroughs moved to a house a mile further down Victoria
Street, then a few years later they bought a large, villa-type house in Clifton Road, on the
banks of the river. Tom frequently acted as interpretor for the Maori Land Courts and Law
Court in Hamilton and his daughter Ruby can remember coming home from school at times
to find the front lawn of their property a Maori meeting-place. “Some of the older women
looked like Goldie paintings with their dark-blue moko (tattoo on chin), white hair under
black headscarf and smoking pipes. They would call out to me in Maori and wave as I
hurried inside, just a little bit frightened by their strangeness.”
Tom was for a period of about six years a Borough Councillor then, having disposed of his
business – business was not his forte – he returned to contracting. He was very fond of
animals and somehow it is not easy to picture him involved in the slaughter of beasts.
He kept horses for the family’s use. Later on transport was by ‘gig’ in those days prior to
motor coaches.
After the family had married and left home Tom and Polly gave up their big house and
bought a smaller place in Mill Street. Polly had poor health for many years but Tom, a big,
robust man, kept a beautiful garden. Polly predeceased Tom, dying in 1933 at the age of 70.
Tom, then aged 82, went to live with his eldest daughter, Amy, and her husband Charles
Hardley, in Herne Bay, Auckland.
Tom took up bowling for an interest and became a popular figure at the West End Bowling
Club. Always a good walker, he would trudge old haunts for miles, even in his late eighties,
whenever he went to stay with his youngest daughter, Ruby, and her family in Te Awamutu
from time to time.
He died in Auckland in his 94th year and is interred alongside Polly in the Hamilton East
cemetery. [(See Genealogical Chart 7)]
SARAH QUALTROUGH (1853-1921) – mother of ten.
This biography is transcribed from chapter 7 of A Quota of Qualtroughs (authors Elizabeth A.
Barlow and Joy McDougall, published in Matamata, New Zealand by Elizabeth A. Barlow in
1984), by kind permission of Elizabeth Feisst. For further information on Qualtroughs
worldwide see http://www/qualtrough.org.
Text in square brackets [ ] refers to matters in A Quota of Qualtroughs that are not included
in the biography below.
LIKE HER brothers and sisters, SARAH grew up on her father’s farm at Pakuranga. Only six
when she came to New Zealand she would have attended the private school her brother
Thomas had spoken of, and watched the menfolk go off on military service and seen her big
sister Betsy go from home as the bride of William Cowan.
It was while visiting Betsy at Kihikihi that Sarah would have met her future husband John
Haddock, a member of the Armed Constabulary stationed at Orakau Redoubt. John, like Bill
Cowan, had come from Ireland and he was a regular visitor to the Cowan home. It was one
of his duties, too, to pick up the day’s ration of milk for the Redoubt from the Cowan farm.
Pretty Sarah took John’s eye.
Romance blossomed and they were married on February 24, 1876, from Sarah’s home in
Pakuranga. John had transferred to the constabulary of the New Zealand Police Force in
1872 and at the time of his marriage was stationed in Hamilton.
They lived in Hamilton for three years where their first three children were born – Edwin
Qualtrough, Sarah Evelyn and Winnie Bella.
In 1880 the family moved to Ngaruawahia where their second daughter Emily Bellfield was
born, thence to Dargaville where three more children were added to the family – John
Mosstown (Moss), William and Herbert.
From Dargaville the next shift was to Warkworth. The change of scenery brought a change
of sex in the issue of little Haddocks for after a run of three sons a daughter, Ada Lilian,
came into the world. Yet another son followed in 1889 with the birth of Mervyn.
Warkworth brought tragedy into the lives of Sarah and John. Firstly Ada, four years old,
became sick and died in 1891 to be followed by Mervyn, only three years old, in 1892. Their
tiny graves on a hillside above Warkworth bear mute testimony to the risks of pioneer life.
Sarah and John produced their last child, their 10th, on September 16 1891, a son whom
they named Bertie Mervyn although somehow he became known as ‘Pat’.
In 1895 after 25 years of service John left the Police force – a long career when you consider
10 years of previous service with the Irish Armed Constabulary.
John, not one to sit around, decided to break in land in the Waikato. William went off with
John to farm at Karamu in the Waipa County. The life was considered too rough and
rigorous for the womenfolk so John installed Sarah and the girls in a comfortable cottage in
Pratt St, Ponsonby, Auckland. Edwin and Moss also stayed with their mother and worked in
Auckland.
After some years farming, John became and returned to the family in Pratt St, where he
died in 1903.
The family drifted into their own lives. Edwin, the eldest, who was working for the (then)
Northern Steamship Company, was the first to marry. His bride was Elizabeth Jane
Butterworth, of Auckland.
Emily – known as Emil – married a master mariner, William Edmund Sinnott; Moss married
Williamina Cornwell, farmed for a while, then went into the timber business at Paeroa.
William farmed at Karamu, joined up in World War 1 and was killed in action at Gallipoli.
Herbert (Bert) farmed at Karamu and married a local girl, Edith Rose Smith.
‘Pat’ served in the Merchant Navy in World War 1 and became a ship’s engineer on the
England-New Zealand run. He married, on the Isle of Man, May Harrison, a great
granddaughter of James and Catherine Qualtrough. (They would be first cousins once
removed).
The Haddock side appears to have had more contact with the Isle of Man than other
branches, for Moss, during his war service, managed a visit to the Island and was warmly
welcomed into the hearts and homes of descendants of Catherine, his unknown aunt.
Evie and Bell remained single and lived at the Pratt St. home with their mother and their
Aunt Emily who joined them some time after her sister Annie’s demise. Grandson Selwyn
Haddock can remember visiting them as a boy and seeing Sarah, then an old lady, in her
rocking chair surrounded by the scions of her family.
Some time before her death in 1921, Sarah went to live with Emily in Te Awamutu. She is
interred in the Purewa Cemetery alongside her husband. [(See Genealogical Chart 8)]
EMILY QUALTROUGH (1855-1941) – professional nurse.
This biography is transcribed from chapter 7 of A Quota of Qualtroughs (authors Elizabeth A.
Barlow and Joy McDougall, published in Matamata, New Zealand by Elizabeth A. Barlow in
1984), by kind permission of Elizabeth Feisst. For further information on Qualtroughs
worldwide see http://www/qualtrough.org.
Text in square brackets [ ] refers to matters in A Quota of Qualtroughs that are not included
in the biography below.
EMILY, the youngest Qualtrough child, also remained single but we know more about her
because she lived to the age of 86 and was a very family-conscious person who kept in
touch with kith and kin.
She learned nursing skills and, following the death of her parents, went out on private cases,
looking after patients in their own homes. She moved about the countryside attending
cases as far apart as Hamilton, Thames and Auckland. Her patients included some notable
people of the day for not only was she regarded as a good nurse but as a very special sort of
person.
Fair-complexioned and blue-eyed, she was gentle and smiling, devoted to her church.
“Saintly” and “angelic” are words often used to describe her nature and she abhorred
vulgarity.
A great-niece, Mary Gavin, recalls that it distressed Aunt Emily to hear people swear. Why,
she would ask, could they not give vent to their feelings just as easily and far less coarsely
with, “Oh, scissors! Oh, needles! Oh, pins!”
As well as a good nurse she was a good cook, though it was said that when Emily baked
there would be a trail of flour from one end of the house to the other.
After retiring from nursing Emily gave much of her time to church work and took an interest
in the Auckland Manx Society. She was living with her nieces Evie and Bell Haddock in Pratt
Street, Ponsonby and to those of us who can remember her in those later years, she was the
epitome of the ‘little old lady passing by’ of a song popular at the time, dressed formally in
gloves and with a hatpin holding a modest black straw hat on her silver head and smelling
faintly of lavender water. She would clasp teenage relations to her bosom and murmur,
“Dear child!”
Ever family-conscious, it was a sorrow to her that the Qualtrough name would die out with
the demise of her brother Thomas’ only son, Jim. Of her brothers, only Willie and Tom had
produced families, and Willy’s brood of eight were all girls, Tom’s five other children
daughters.
Jim Qualtrough had married in 1927, but nearly 14 years later he was still childless. Then
came the news that a baby was on the way. Aunt Emily’s delight could hardly be contained
with the news, “It’s a boy!”
Emily asked Jim and his wife Minnie a special favour – could the baby be christened in the
family church at Pakuranga? Arrangements were duly made and baby Malcolm James
Qualtrough was welcomed into the Methodist Church on Sunday 12 October 1941.
But his little Great-Aunt Emily was not there to savour the moment. She had been ailing for
some months and perhaps the excitement of it all had been too much for her for she
collapsed and died on the Saturday night prior to the christening. The family carried on with
her wishes, however, as all arrangements had been made. It was a poignant hour though
for relations who had attended the christening to see Emily’s coffin resting on the spot
beneath the altar where the longed-for male descendant had been baptised only the day
before.
Emily was interred in the graveyard beside the church she had loved all her life. She had, in
1929, set up a Trust of £100 (sterling) for the upkeep of the property as it had at that time,
through disuse, become neglected. The interest on this money was used for the purpose
until the building was officially handed over to the Howick Historical Society. [(See
Genealogical Chart 4)]