Chapter Fourteen

SHIFTING HOUSE OCCUPIED minds at Awarua House for several weeks in March 1912. With only Eileen and Pat at home—Gladstone was in camp, and Vincent still overseas1—there were fewer hands to move the accumulation of twelve years’ comfortable living. Fortunately Mackenzie seems to have had little inclination to shift into Tinakori Rd. This gave the Wards time to think about their future. They still owned the family home in Bann Street, Bluff, and Theresa had remained on the electoral roll for Awarua. Yet they had long since become Wellingtonians. They soon decided that they would continue to live in Wellington. Where, was the question. Ward had developed a liking for golf—a tonic for fired public men, he later told a Sydney reporter2—and had been serving for some years now as President of the Wellington Golf Club.3 Later in the year they bought some land at 23 Golf Road, Heretaunga, on the edge of the club’s new links. Over the next two years they built a small house, the grounds of which were extended by the purchase of a further slice of land in 1914. Years later a reporter descibed it as a ‘very snug retreat’. ‘It is a little rough-cast bungalow nestling in an informal garden, mostly in lawn. The native trees that rise in groups here and there give a New Zealand touch, with banks of rhododendrons and blue delphinium spires adding bright colour to the vernal scene. The outlook is on to the Heretaunga golf links, backed by the misty blue of the hills that flank the Hutt Valley.’4

In the meantime they lived at the Royal Oak Hotel in Cuba Steet, and even after the home was finished often stayed at the hotel if official duties kept them late in the city. Heretaunga became Ward’s retreat from public life. He enjoyed motoring back and forth. In time the growing population of Heretaunga had much to thank Ward for: a telephone exchange and a post office were opened in 1918, reminders that they had amongst them the country’s longest-serving Postmaster General, one who packed political punch.

Ward was now out of power for the first time almost in living memory. Like Laurier, who had just been defeated in Canada, he had come to regard authority as a habit.5 Wisely, Theresa, Eileen and he decided to take a six-week holiday in Australia while the new government settled into office. He was happy to accept Mackenzie’s appointment of him as the New Zealand representative on the Empire Trade Commission, an organisation which it seemed would soon be sitting in Australia and New Zealand. Meantime, before leaving for his holiday there was a seemingly endless round of farewells. It was as though government departments sensed that an era was passing and that official life might never be the same again; there was a note of apprehension about a future without Ward. He had become something of a fixture in New Zealand political life. There were few things in life Ward enjoyed more than eulogies about himself. He, in turn, told his audiences that he would be taking his first carefree holiday in twenty-one years. Many suspected, however, that it was just that, and he would be back refreshed before long, even in harness again. On 15 April Jupps Band played in the grounds of Awarua House and then preceded the Wards’ car to the wharf, where a crowd of 1500 had gathered to see them off to the south, en route to Melbourne. When someone in the crowd shouted ‘come back’, Ward paused, then quickly replied: ‘Oh I’m coming back, alright. I’m not to be got rid of as easily as some people imagine.’6 Although it was not to be correct, some thought that Ward would be the power behind Mackenzie’s throne,7 others that he would be the most formidable leader the Liberals could wish for in opposition.8

The Wards’ ‘snug retreat’, Heretaunga.

Ward had a splendid holiday. There was a lot of golf, very few public functions, little news of New Zealand but a number of encounters with old political and business friends. The Australian Liberals were at a low ebb. Deakin was on the verge of retirement, his memory ebbing away rapidly.9 It was inevitable that someone would suggest to Ward that he might like to move into Australian Commonwealth politics. Ward did not give any clear reply to such suggestions, preferring instead to keep all doors ajar.10 Back in New Zealand he found himself much in demand. The Liberal Party arranged a large gathering in the Wellington Town Hall on his behalf on 30 May. Then he went south to a very lavish ‘non-political’ evening in Invercargill on 4 June. It was ‘to mark Southland’s appreciation of the many years of his public life devoted to the public affairs of the Dominion’. He was presented with possibly the most grand of all the many illuminated addresses he received throughout his lifetime, this one bound in leather with a solid silver name plate. It was full of photographs of Southland. The message contained within was extravagant from start to finish. ‘Your Work in conjunction with other Statesmen representing all parts of the British Empire at Imperial Conferences in the Old Land will live as a Permanent Memorial of your Ability as a Statesman, and your Loyalty to the British Crown. No Statesman in any part of the Overseas Dominions, not excepting your great Imperial Predecessor, Richard John Seddon, has seen more clearly the need for Imperial Unity, or has fought more Untiringly for its Realisation.’ Referring to his achievements at home the inscription read: ‘The Statute Book is a Standing Testimony to the Success you have achieved in your labours for the Betterment of all Classes of the Community.’11 The new Prime Minister was present to support all these effusions. Ward was becoming a legend in his own lifetime.

Back in Wellington Mackenzie did his best to consolidate his new Ministry, but he had begun secretly corresponding with his former colleague, Massey, just in case things went wrong.12 For the moment he was attempting to smooth down the many ruffled feathers of those who had been pushed aside at the changeover.13 He decided to take a tight rein on his Ministry, requesting all details from his ministers about their travel plans around the country and expecting to be consulted on anything that might be politically sensitive.14 He himself embarked on a number of major speaking engagements in Taranaki, Auckland and the South Island, and H. G. Ell, the new Postmaster General, was encouraged to make as many announcements as possible about improved post and telegraph facilities in rural areas. Mackenzie misread the political message from the 1911 election, which had seen the Liberals lose more heavily in North Island urban seats. He put aside the rash promises in the Governor’s speech of February, and set his ministry’s face firmly in the direction of the countryside. This policy only angered the remaining urban Liberals. Millar was soon predicting publicly that the Mackenzie Ministry would not last,15 providing the first hint that it might be brought down from within. As yet, no one seemed quite certain what would happen. On the one hand Massey hoped that another election would not be necessary in the near future,16 but on the other, he was preparing for just that possibility. Contacts were being made with wavering MPs, and new Reform candidates were being sought in electorates marginally held by the Liberals.17 From the tranquillity of London W. P. Reeves found it all ‘interesting, not to say amusing’.18

Ward, too, watched all this without getting involved. Several Liberal papers kept talking of him as the only Liberal leader likely to fire the public’s imagination again,19 but he was lying low for the moment. With an inevitable confidence motion coming up again as soon as Parliament met he did decide to resign from the Empire Trade Commission, which it now seemed would begin its deliberations in the Northern Hemisphere at the same time as his vote would be needed in Wellington. In his office he attended to his correspondence, replying at some length to a note from Lewis Harcourt who had written after Ward’s resignation. The letter was Ward’s version of events for London consumption:

Things out here are peculiar, indeed they are unique. A combination of the Conservatives and the workers at both the first and second ballots, the latter particularly, brought about the altered condition of parties in this country. Though the Liberals had a vote of nearly 100,000 more20 than their opponents … yet we were so close that it made it impossible in my opinion for the Government to carry on, excepting by a system of continuous intrigue and arrangement ….

I made up my mind at an early juncture to get out when I could with ‘decency’ and I am much happier now that I am clear than I could possibly have hoped to have been had I elected to remain …21

By the time Parliament resumed on 27 June not even Mackenzie seems to have had much confidence his Government could survive. Not only was there serious dissension within the Liberal caucus with Millar and Wilford, who was now back from London, both claiming they were free to vote as they wished;22 one of the independents, Gordon Coates, who had voted for the Government in February, made it clear he was now unlikely to support them a second time. His campaign committee had met and unanimously decided to release him from his earlier pledge, urging him instead to support Massey.23 A few days later Rhodes of Thames claimed he had ‘done his bit’ by the Liberal Government in February.24 Fearing something akin to warfare if he summoned the Government caucus, Mackenzie resorted to writing to each one individually, warning that desertion might ‘throw back the progress of the country for years’.25 For a couple of days the Government tried desperately to prevent the no-confidence motion coming to a vote. But the speeches on the Address in Reply told of the inevitable outcome. Roddy McKenzie, Ward’s Minister of Public Works, who had been pushed aside in the re-shuffle, signalled that his vote, too, was in doubt: ‘I recognised after the last general election that the Liberal Party, which has done so much good during the previous 20 years, had got into a serious decline. I recognised that when we came here in February last, that we met at the death of the Liberal Party. Tonight we are standing by the grave listening to the burial service. There are a few men who are responsible for the position we have got into.’ He went on to attack Mackenzie, the party’s ‘so-called leader’ whom he labelled ‘as big a Tory as Mr Massey’, as well as several of Mackenzie’s Cabinet. Only Ward—‘one of the most sincere and conscientious men that it would be possible to meet’—came in for any praise.26 Ward in turn indicated only tepid enthusiasm for the Government. He let it be known that he had really not favoured either Millar or Mackenzie for the leadership, but promised to remain loyal to the party.27 When the blow fell at 4.55 am on 6 July it was something of an anti-climax. The motion of no confidence in the Mackenzie Government passed by 41–33. All four of the Labour MPs, plus Wilford, supported the Government this time, but several Liberal MPs failed to show, and Roddy McKenzie refused to vote. Millar crossed the floor along with four of the independents (Reed, Coates, T. W. Rhodes and Clark) who had voted with Ward in February. Mackenzie resigned later the same day and the Governor promptly called on Massey to try to form a government.28 The Liberals’ seemingly perpetual hold on office had at last been broken.

Massey’s Cabinet took office on 10 July 1912. Later the same day Parliament adjourned until 31 July to enable the changeover of ministry to take place. This gave Massey time to take stock of what was a tricky situation. While he had won the parliamentary vote, less than half the total number of MPs had entered Parliament pledged to support him. His surprise defeat in February had been weighing on his mind for some months, and this time he was determined not to be out-manoeuvred.29 In time he was to become one of the country’s shrewdest parliamentary tacticians. For the moment he was preoccupied with the need to turn the possession of office to good advantage. A winnable by-election in a seat currently held by the Liberals would help boost numbers in the House and put backbone into any waverers amongst the forty-one who had filed into the Reform Party’s lobby on 6 July. Massey and Mackenzie had been corresponding for some time now, and Mackenzie, sensing that he had a bargaining token, had refrained from filling the High Commissionership in London which some had been saying should have been offered to Ward. Within days of the changeover of ministry Massey appointed Mackenzie to the London vacancy and on 22 August the new High Commissioner resigned his seat of Egmont, enabling the Reform Party to wage an enthusiastic, and ultimately successful, campaign for the seat.

Massey’s next tactic was to have his Minister of Finance, James Allen, produce a budget in August that retained all the traditionally popular features of the Liberal Government. The country was in a sound financial position in any event. Arthur Myers, who had been Ward’s successor at the Treasury, had reported a surplus exceeding £1 million for the year to 30 June and there was little need to tighten belts. Throughout the Estimates debates in August Liberal MPs kept bemoaning the fact that the new government had stolen their policies. Editors friendly to the government delighted in touting it as ‘more liberal, progressive and democratic’ than the former administration.30 Massey was soon riding high, his numbers seemingly secure. Nor did the government’s tough attitude to the long-running Waihi strike cause them any electoral discomfort. As the Liberal Government’s indecision gave way to the strong-arm tactics of Reform in July-August and September it is clear that the public as well as the parliamentary waverers were on Massey’s side.31

Equally as important in Massey’s gradual consolidation was the enfeebled state of the Liberal Opposition. For years they had lacked cohesion and Ward had drawn more and more decisions to himself, partly to disguise the fact that his caucus had a variety of views on every issue. With Ward no longer leader, and tempers frayed over Mackenzie’s manner of departure, the caucus was for a considerable period of time in no position to provide even the semblance of an alternative government. Laurenson, who was Mackenzie’s deputy, became acting leader but was never confirmed in the position. His health was not strong, and he died in November 1913. The press kept talking as though Ward was the only possible leader.32 He continued to receive invitations, including one to the opening of the new Auckland Trades Hall in Hobson St on 29 July, where he gave an unusually frank account of political machinations over the previous six months and rounded off his speech by declaring that the Liberals would be back, and that for his part he would ‘always be on the side of the weak’.33 But he showed no inclination to take up the reins of leadership again; after the way the party had treated him he was in no mood to embrace them all again, kiss and forgive. His mind was on other things. Few reporters managed to escape him without a lecture on the therapeutic value of golf. The Auckland Observer carried an anonymous Wellington story at the end of July to the effect that Ward seemed to be ‘in the pink’. ‘Haven’t seen him look so blooming for 10 years. Quite athletic and has lost at least seventeen pounds beneath the waistcoat. Complexion like a baby’s, no balder, smiles like a cherub. See him rushing off with his golf sticks at every opportunity. Have heard that he has taken to the gloves as an extra relaxation. Is he the White Hope? People here believe that he has some political surprises up his sleeve and is getting fit to disclose them. At any rate his present life is one long smile.’34

Ward did not ignore politics altogether. On 10 July he offered ‘genuine assistance’ to the new Ministry, assistance of which Massey was in no hurry to avail himself. Like many a defeated minister before and since, Ward alternated between wanting to proffer advice to tyros in government and wishing to complete tasks he had begun. He repeated his annual ‘shout’ for all parliamentarians providing them with a Bluff oyster supper. He proposed a toast to the new Prime Minister and wished him as long a time in office as he deserved, which drew from Massey a counter toast to the effect that he hoped the Liberals would spend as much time in Opposition as they deserved, which he felt was likely to be a long time. Relationships between the two men were proper, never friendly. In Ward’s eyes Massey was a political parvenu who did not know how much he did not know of government and the world at large. The Irish/religious divide, which Ward always believed Massey was exploiting in an underhand manner, never allowed for cordiality. For their part Massey and his colleagues found Ward vain and tired quickly of the deference that he demanded because of his status and lengthy experience. They lost few opportunities to criticise Ward and the past administration; Ward usually rose to the bait. Late in October he became involved in a petty piece of parliamentary vituperation over some words used by one of the Reform Party’s committee chairmen during an investigation into local body loans procedures. These days Ward was supersensitive to criticism and at one point he accused the chairman of acting ‘impertinently’. The House then censured Ward for refusing to withdraw his remarks but both men, indeed the whole institution, were made to look petty in the eyes of the press and the public.35

Wisely Ward decided to escape. Now the family was out of Awarua House and awaiting the completion of the new house, it seemed appropriate to take the proper holiday they had long promised themselves in England. Ward explained that it was impossible to get a complete rest in New Zealand, and he would do a little business and enjoy himself. He expected to be back in time for the next parliamentary session.36 This time Ward, Theresa and Eileen would take young Pat with them and enrol him at Downside School, a Catholic institution twelve miles from Bath, run by the Benedictine order. There he could rub shoulders with England’s Catholic elite, several sons of peers, many well-connected young Irishmen and a number of Polish counts. His parents meantime would disport themselves around the country.37 First they went south for a few days to pay respects to the electors of Awarua and then set sail late in November 1912 for Australia and England.

It was nice to be in London again, comfortably ensconced in the Hotel Cecil. But things were different in more ways than one. The Wards had time on their hands, and were paying their own bills as well. They went to the Liberal Club, the Distinguished Strangers Gallery at the Commons, and to functions of their own choosing. Ward even developed a taste for opera, twice attending performances of Richard Strauss’s new and very successful Der Rosenkavalier at Covent Garden. In earlier times there had been Liberal ministries in Canada, Australia, New Zealand and Great Britain. Now the Liberal Party reigned in Britain alone, and the Wards could enjoy power only vicariously. They made the most of it, however, snapping up a selection of invitations such as that tendered by Winston Churchill to accompany King George V to Portsmouth to inspect HMS New Zealand before its trip to New Zealand.38 Invitations from the Empire Parliamentary Association, the Navy League and the Royal Colonial Institute and others who seemed prepared to fête them were also welcome. At the Commons they dined with Austen Chamberlain, Herbert Samuel who was Postmaster General, and the Irish Home Rule advocate, John Redmond. On St Patrick’s Day Ward shared a platform with Redmond where he eulogised him and supported Home Rule for Ireland, stressing that it was quite consistent with maintaining imperial defence.39 They spent a week in Ireland and were back in London in time for Theresa and Eileen to be presented at Court. Late in May they all went over to Hendon to a function marking the gift of a military monoplane to New Zealand by the Imperial Air Committee. The 80 h.p. two-seater Bleriot piloted by Gustav Hamel put on a display for the spectators. Then out of the blue Hamel extended an invitation to Ward to join him for a spin. Although the wind was strong, the ex-premier with his fascination for gadgets could not, much to the consternation of his family, refuse. For fifteen minutes the plane went round in a circle at its maximum speed of ninety miles an hour, 700 feet above ground level. Ward kept his cool, although he later admitted to some journalists that he ‘had to hang on like grim death in a thunderstorm’.40

The Wards were in no hurry to return to New Zealand. By mid June the parliamentary session was about to begin and he would have known about the press speculation that he was the only Liberal who had any chance of uniting the party. Fearing that Ward might return rejuvenated, several of the Reform Party’s newspapers began speculating in April that the ailing Sir William Hall-Jones could return to New Zealand and take over the leadership. Hall-Jones quickly rejected the suggestion and G. W. Russell, MP for Avon, told a Lyttelton Times reporter, ‘There is only one possible leader and that is Sir Joseph Ward’. Russell went on to say that when Ward returned it was likely that a concerted approach would be made to him to take over the leadership. With Reform Party policy slowly filtering through to implementation there was growing nostalgia for Ward’s return to office.41 The Southland Times correctly guessed that Ward would be in no hurry to respond to blandishments, given the way he had been treated in February 1912.42

On 20 June Ward left London for home where his return was eagerly awaited. The more he had been reported as saying that it was unlikely he would take other than a backbencher’s interest in politics again, yet felt himself to be in A-1 physical condition,43 the greater, it seemed, became the Liberals’ need of him. At Colombo and Sydney reporters pestered him with questions about the Liberal leadership. A Ward boomlet was developing back at home. A huge life-sized portrait of Ward in a heavy oak frame had been commissioned by the Invercargill City Council and was hung in the council chamber in place of Edward Gibbon Wakefield.44 The first visit of HMS New Zealand in Ward’s absence seemed only to draw attention to the missing donor. Massey’s failure during the receptions to mention Ward’s name in relation to the ship was seen by editors as ungenerous.45

As soon as the SS Niagara berthed in Auckland on 1 August the pressure was on. But Ward played hard to get. He told a large gathering of Liberal supporters at the Star Hotel who were urging him to take over the vacant leadership that the party would have to be ‘true to itself’, and cease its sectionalism.46 It was obvious that he would not look at the leadership unless the caucus ate humble pie and unanimously invited him to resume his old position. He might not have felt this a likely eventuality, but if so, he underestimated his colleagues’ desperation. As the Evening Post commented on 4 August: ‘More than ever before the Liberals need Sir Joseph Ward. With him all will not be entirely well but at least the Opposition will be able to present a more creditable front.’ Ward was all that the party had.

On 10 September the Liberal MPs finally gathered to discuss the leadership. Only Millar, it seems, was unprepared to accept Ward back and left the party. Ward drove a very hard bargain with his hapless colleagues. He demanded an absolutely free hand in formulating Liberal policy and in deciding on matters of general interest to the party in Parliament and the country at large. Nothing short of autocracy could keep the squabbling Opposition forces in line. While some resented giving Ward such powers in the end they meekly agreed.47 On 11 September 1913 Ward was officially recognised as Leader of the Opposition.

Immediately there was an improvement in Opposition morale. Ward launched into the Government on a number of matters where his superior knowledge gave him the edge. On the repeal of the second ballot which was pushed through by Massey in November the Liberals provided an impressive stone wall.48 Ward was not able, however, to disguise some of the deep philosophical differences in the Liberal Party. On the Land Bill dealing with tenure which came up for its second reading in October, the Liberals divided between a small rump of leaseholders and those like Ward, Myers, Macdonald and Buddo who supported the Government. However, there were other opportunities for presenting a more united front. Organised labour which had been none too happy with the Liberals in power quickly found the Reform Government a much fiercer adversary.49 Massey’s proposed amendments to the Industrial Conciliation Act that were introduced early in the 1913 session made organised labour more dependent on the Liberals than many wanted to be. In mid October the major waterfront strike that developed out of a minor dispute over travelling time for some Wellington shipwrights put the union movement in a dangerously exposed position. Sensing tacit support from Massey some employers were prepared to act tough, even provocatively, when faced with union militancy. Ward and the Liberals met with the strikers and suggested to the Government a reasonable solution to a crisis that was occupying many minds during November and December 1913. The more Massey upped the ante by calling in special reinforcements, the greater the need felt by many unionists for political representation which, since there were only four Labour MPs, had to be provided by Ward and the Liberals. Ward’s constant refrain that he supported law and order but regretted provocation by those in authority commanded some respect among the public, a number of whom agreed with him that a political solution could have been arrived at long before the unions were ultimately forced into submission.50 On 26 November Ward even suggested placing the dispute unconditionally in the hands of his old adversary, Sir Joshua Williams, whom he was now prepared to acknowledge was ‘a just, far-seeing and fearless judge’.51

Ward’s efforts to get an honourable solution to the dispute before it turned into a rout for the workers regained respect among them but that did not necessarily mean votes. The push for separate labour representation continued unabated, encouraged by Paddy Webb’s July by-election victory in Grey after the death of Sir Arthur Guinness. Labour repeated its success following Laurenson’s death in November in the middle of the strike, which impacted heavily in his electorate of Lyttelton. James McCombs won the seat on the second ballot, the last electoral encounter before this device so beloved by the Liberals was abolished. In both electorates, which had formerly been held by the Liberals they came third on the first ballots. However, there were signs of cooperation between the Liberals and Social Democrats (Labour); Liberals threw their votes to Labour on the second ballot on both occasions. With the second ballot now to be no more, Ward needed to be nimble-footed to prevent this easy movement of Liberals to Labour becoming a feature of the general election of 1914. Analysing the by-election results, the Lyttelton Times concluded that they passed a clear message to Ward: stop dwelling on past achievements and strike out with some bold new policy initiatives or Liberal voters will shift to another party.52 Sir John Findlay had much the same message for Ward: unless they had a ‘radically distinct and different policy’, the Liberals would ‘cease to have any real existence’.53

P. J. O’Regan met Ward about this time and concluded that he seemed to have learned little from recent events.54 Ward’s mind was on other things. On 4 December 1913 his favourite, Eileen, married Bernard Bedingfield Wood at the basilica with Tom Seddon as best man. There was a new grandchild in Christchurch. When he did begin again to concentrate on things political, Ward slipped back into his old routine of dashing about the country giving lengthy speeches. He drew large audiences—4000 in Auckland in March 1914, even more in Wellington a few days later. But he continually refused to be drawn on policy specifics, fearing that any ideas would be stolen by Massey.55 The crowds tired quickly; interjections became more frequent and pointed. Ward was only fifty-eight but his mind was running in old grooves and was all too predictable. He seemed reluctant to reposition the Liberal Party so that it could look like a future force rather than a past memory.

Relationships with Massey’s Government in Parliament were always turbulent. Ward often seemed to oppose for the sake of opposing, and sometimes there was no pleasing him; his positions on issues would switch disconcertingly. Certainly there was no consistent ideological difference between Liberal and Reform in any of the confrontations. In July 1914 Ward brought on a no-confidence motion in the Government, despite all indications beforehand that he would lose—which he did. The outbreak of war in August briefly brought the leaders together, the two old adversaries outdoing each other with ringing declarations of loyalty to the Empire after the Governor had read the King’s message to an excited crowd from the steps of Parliament Buildings.56 Expectations were that the war would be short-lived, and Ward felt a diminution in party activity appropriate. The Liberals urged the cessation of partisan legislation and even absented themselves from the chamber when James Allen pressed ahead with the budget on 6 August. For a time Ward favoured delaying the elections until March 1915, no doubt in the belief the war would be well over by then. A meeting between Ward and Massey took place in Ward’s hotel room on 20 August, where the Leader of the Opposition was confined because of what was described as an ‘indisposition’. Massey made it clear that he intended to press ahead with an election at the scheduled time.57 Ward promptly forgot his earlier assurances of bipartisanship and the old campaigner was soon back on the stump drawing big, hopeful, yet often disappointed crowds. Ward’s campaign opening in Winton on 16 November seemed like a re-run of most of his speeches there for twenty-five years past. Liberal achievements were detailed at painful length, and policies such as opening up the land (at unspecified locations) and completion of railway lines were top of his agenda. Little was said about the promise issued a few days earlier in Wellington to introduce the state-regulated supply of milk to towns and cities, or his complicated baby-bonus plan which would have the state place £5 in the Post Office Savings Bank for each newborn child. Much of the rest of the time Ward spent on the back foot, defending himself from accusations freely doled out by Reform’s morning newspapers that he was soft on the ‘Red Feds’, whose strike he had sought to bring to a timely close the previous year.58

Parliamentary cricket match, 1914.

Adding some flavour to the anti-labour attacks being made on Ward was his willingness to go along with a Liberal-Labour pact on the eve of the election. The various organisations claiming to represent Labour and the Liberals had one thing in common: a bitter dislike of the Massey Government. In Wellington, Christchurch and Dunedin some successful efforts were made to minimise vote splitting among anti-Reform forces.59 But it had limited effect. The election outcome was a huge disappointment. Ward’s large audiences had lulled him into the belief that he would win. His own victory in Awarua with a majority of 1226 was pleasing enough. Winton gave him a narrow majority this time, and in Bluff there was a substantial increase in his percentage of the poll.60 Elsewhere it was a different story. Both parties won some seats and lost others, leaving the score by mid December at Reform 40, Liberal 34, Labour 6. All six Labourites indicated they would support Ward. A series of magisterial recounts, court challenges and by-elections took place over the next six months before it was confirmed in mid June 1915 that Massey had 41 seats in a House of 80, always assuming that Tau Henare, MP for Northern Maori, agreed to attend Reform Party caucuses.61

Throughout the six-month period while the overall result remained in doubt Ward worked with his old vigour, desperate in his attempt to topple Massey. No efforts were spared in the by-elections, and there were three of them—in Dunedin Central, Bay of Islands and Taumarunui. In Dunedin Central Ward campaigned for the Labour candidate, J. W. Munro, leading the Otago Daily Times to accuse him variously of ‘dancing to Labour’s tune’, and delivering the Liberals ‘into the tender mercies of Labour.’62 If Munro were to win the by-election, Ward would be ‘an impotent instrument in the hands of Mr P. C. Webb, Mr John Payne and the other members with whom they are associated’, the Times warned on voting day.63 Munro lost, and Ward was left smarting against such extravagant accusations. ‘I will not be squeezed or coerced on matters of policy’, he declared emphatically.64 But it did not stop the accusations. This was Ward’s nemesis: he needed urban working-class votes either for his own Liberal candidates or by way of promised support from Labour MPs. But in the climate of fear existing after the strikes of 1912–13 and the militant tactics increasingly being discussed in public by members of the ‘Red’ Federation of Labour, Ward found himself permanently in a quandary: while he wished to embrace Labour, another part of him felt more comfortable with them at arm’s length. His instinct always was to be fair when dealing with workers’ demands, but as a businessman he seldom found he could identify personally with their grievances. His political speeches rarely touched on the issues of health, education or welfare so dear to the hearts of a growing number of urban voters, let alone land nationalisation or workers’ control of industry, matters being discussed in more militant circles.

By the middle of 1915 respite was on the way. No sooner was the last of the by-elections over than the chorus of demands for the formation of a National Government became loud.65 The election had, in effect, occupied about nine months and the war was going badly. To many the continuation of partisanship seemed indulgent, even frivolous, given the emergency facing the country. Confronting the difficulty of carrying on with a virtually nonexistent majority, Massey indicated on 29 June that he was prepared to discuss the establishment of a National Cabinet. Ward said he would consider the proposal. There were plusses and minusses to it, and he was shrewd enough to know that Massey needed him more than he needed Massey. The two of them parried for another five weeks. At first Massey offered the Liberals three seats in a Cabinet of nine, two of them without full salary. When this was rejected out of hand, the offer was raised to four out of nine which, given the fact that the Labour MPs were refusing to join a national administration, seemed a fair allocation of numbers. The trouble was that the Reform Party was insisting on retaining the ministries of Defence and Finance, and of course the prime-ministership. Ward had a problem with his caucus too. Whom could he leave out? This problem was bigger because of the re-election of his trusted former colleague, Robert McNab, who was assumed to be a front runner for any National Ministry. When this was fully explained to Massey at several meetings in the fourth week of July, Massey raised his offer to five out of a Cabinet of eleven. But he still insisted on retaining the three key portfolios. Negotiations collapsed altogether a few days later and inter-party strife now reached new heights. This brought stern admonitions from the press. On 29 July the good offices of the Governor were sought to help solve the impasse and a meeting of nine, four from each party plus the Governor, assembled at Government House on 2 August. Liverpool’s intervention produced a breakthrough. Two days later it was announced that the meeting had agreed on numerical parity in a National Ministry: five Cabinet members from each party, with Ward to have Finance. The five each became six each on 6 August, the increase enabling Ward to bring in one more of his colleagues, albeit without the extra ministerial salary.

The extent to which Ward had driven a hard bargain was immediately apparent to everyone. It became even clearer as further details of the Government House meeting emerged. There would be an inquiry into war-time profiteering. The board undertaking the inquiry would be expected to make recommendations on a system of price control. That request was a concession to the Labour sextet who were concerned about rising prices. One particular piece of Reform Party legislation, the Legislative Council Bill, would be postponed. Three other stipulations—that any by-election would be filled by a candidate from the party of the former member, that the National Government would last until at least six months after the end of the war, and that there would be a system in effect of dual leadership, with Ward really sharing prime-ministerial responsibilities while Massey retained the formal title, were details unannounced in August. They seeped out over time.66 Under public pressure the two caucuses agreed to the deal. Massey made it clear that he saw the national administration as a wartime necessity; Ward stressed that the two parties would maintain their individuality, and would make decisions in Cabinet on the basis of ‘mutual concessions’.

It is not clear whether Ward in retrospect ever fully realised what a fateful decision he and his colleagues took when they went into the National Government on 12 August 1915.67 Nobody, of course, could guess just how long it would be before normal party activity could resume again after the war. Although it was not going well, no one seriously imagined that the national administration would last four years. In effect Ward had been faced with choices, none wholly palatable. He could possibly have forced Massey to continue with his shaky majority in the hope that an early election could provide the Liberals with another tilt at government in their own right. However, this would have put Ward at odds with Britain where a national administration was in power, and it would have obliged him to deal on a day-to-day basis with the Labour MPs and the accusations that would be made against him by the Reform press who liked to picture organised labour taking its marching orders from Berlin. Already Ward had had to seek assurance from his brother-in-law, Walter Henderson, that Theresa’s mother, Mrs de Smidt, had not been a German, a rumour that was being circulated sotto voce, and which was causing him concern.68 Joining a national administration had the advantage of putting his loyalty beyond reproach, especially among his British friends and connections. There can be little doubt that a continuation of partisan politics would have brought Parliament under heavy criticism, with Ward getting the lion’s share for refusing Massey’s offer.

The National Ministry that took office on 12 August 1915. New Zealand Herald.

But the other option—to join Massey—also had its disadvantages. The first and most obvious was that Ward disliked Massey intensely, considering him to be little more than an uncultivated bigot. Some of his colleagues seemed worse. Herdman had campaigned for years for civil service reform, insinuating that Ward had been stacking the service with Catholics, while Allen had often taken the lead in baiting Ward in Parliament since 1912. Associating with Massey had another problem. Ward would have to shoulder some of the responsibility for decisions which on a give-and-take basis were bound, at least half of the time, not to be to the Liberal Party’s liking. This could make the re-establishment of relations with the Labour MPs difficult and only heightened his hopes that the war would not last long.

Overriding all these considerations, however, was the simple attraction of office again. Ward had not shaken off his taste for consequence, something for which golf could never compensate. Running the country was a habit, and it grieved him deeply to see lesser mortals in charge. His situation was not unlike that faced by Jan Smuts in 1933 when Smuts found himself drawn into serving under Hertzog, ‘a man whose narrowness and pettiness he had found at times almost unendurable’.72 If Ward could not be prime minister immediately he would be the next best thing, a sort of co-premier presiding once more over the Treasury, and in that position, largely in charge of the government again. He would travel overseas with Massey if the Empire called. Donning his imperial garb again was a much more congenial prospect than day-to-day skirmishings with Labourites, whose loyalty to the war effort was in some cases questionable. There is no evidence to suggest that Ward ever took seriously his title of Leader of the Opposition, which he retained throughout the war. Although he seems not to have realised it, joining a National Government was the triumph of present desire over future consequences.

Within hours of taking office as Minister of Finance Ward was meeting bankers and discussing the difficult financial situation now facing the country. By the end of 1914 New Zealand’s sea lanes had been made relatively secure and the Imperial Government moved to purchase New Zealand’s frozen meat and wool, then its cheese and butter. Prices were generous, and the level of domestic bank deposits rose steadily. Farmers were in clover so long as the war lasted, their only problem being a manpower shortage with so many overseas. However, the Government’s war expenses ballooned. At first, Mackenzie was asked to raise money on the London market to cover costs. But by the beginning of 1915 most other countries in the world were also borrowing vigorously in London and interest rates climbed steeply. The Imperial Government stepped in to control the rate of borrowing by colonial and other governments. New Zealand was told that it could raise only a maximum of £300,000 per month in London.70 Clearly New Zealand would have to raise money locally where interest rates were lower anyway. Ward grasped the nettle. He had no option if he wanted to control inflation and by November 1915 New Zealand’s war needs were running at £500,000 per month and anticipated to be nearer £700,000 by the middle of 1916. This was the origin of the decision made by Cabinet on 27 October 1915 to float War Loan Certificates and Post Office War Bonds. Money that was not immediately needed locally was then remitted to London where Mackenzie invested it in a wide range of banks and British Treasury bills at higher rates of interest than it had been borrowed for in New Zealand. Ward explained to Mackenzie in June 1916: ‘The Government is anxious to raise as much of the country’s war requirements as possible. The more we raise in New Zealand, the less of course we shall require from the Imperial Government ….’ This policy would ‘relieve the Imperial Government’. ‘I anticipate that before long the contributions from the Imperial Government for [our] war purposes will diminish very considerably.’ While there is evidence that Allen, in particular, would have handled tilings differently, over time the policy made money for the New Zealand government as Mackenzie continued to invest profitably in London throughout the war.71 Soon after the war ended and troops were returning in bigger numbers, money from British Treasury bills was repatriated on maturity more often than re-invested, and used for domestic needs as well as capital repayment.

Cartoonist’s impression of the National Cabinet, 1916.

Ward enjoyed a cordial, businesslike relationship with his Secretary of the Treasury, Colonel Campbell, who seems to have been in and out of his Minister’s office almost daily, and in constant communication with the High Commissioner. Ward (and A. M. Myers, who acted as Minister of Finance when he was away) had a fairly free hand with policy,72 although there were indications from time to time, such as with the budget which Ward presented on 26 August 1915, that the incidence of taxation might have fallen differently were it not for the need within Cabinet to avoid controversy.73 This was to be the cause of increasing unrest with the Labour MPs, and even with some of the Liberals. While some Reform backbenchers felt Ward’s budget of 1915 hit farmers too hard, and did not accept Ward’s assertions that only the ‘well-to-do’ would be paying, the left felt that land and income could have been hit much harder. In their eyes Ward’s 1 per cent tax on imported goods would only add to the upward pressure on the cost of living. Ward endeavoured to counteract this unease with the introduction of a Cost of Living Bill in October 1915 which set up a board to monitor supply levels and prices. Critics argued consistently that the board lacked adequate power to fix prices, and felt the measure to be a sham.74 Keeping prices from going through the roof was the government’s biggest domestic challenge. Butter, milk and woollen goods were being pulled upward all the time by the prices paid by Britain. Local farmers wanted no restriction on this upward trend, while the Liberal and Labour MPs came under increasing pressure for some form of price control to keep commodities affordable for town folk. In October 1916 when it looked as though butter would soon reach two shillings per pound, Cabinet stepped in and fixed the price at 1/7 per pound.75 Before long the pressure was on to do the same for wool, and in February 1917 wheat prices were controlled as well.

Cabinet usually grappled with the challenges in a spirit of compromise, although it took some time to settle into a routine. ‘The Coalition Government has been getting on fairly well’, Allen told Mackenzie in late September 1915, ‘but the House is somewhat out of control as the Party organisation is somewhat superseded. Many of the men look upon themselves as free lances. The Government sometimes feels it difficult to realise what the position is on any particular question.’76 It seems clear that there was not much love lost within the Cabinet. Allen found Ward ‘a difficulty. He is so vain’, and was of the opinion most of the time that Ward’s colleague, G. W. Russell, was ‘out for political advantages, and to make use of his time as a Minister … to keep alive and strengthen the old Liberal Party’.77 To the Liberals, in particular, Allen seemed like a humourless, austere Tory. Even the Governor found him trying, describing him to Harcourt as ‘a most difficult man to handle, and certainly most unpopular … suspicious of everyone, his colleagues not excluded’.78

The only effective opposition to all of them came from the six Labour MPs, who had made the shrewd tactical decision on 5 August 1915 not to be represented in the Cabinet.79 Instead, they stated that they now felt ‘absolutely free’ to criticise the National Government in a ‘constructive’ manner.80 The Maoriland Worker was more blunt. Now that organised labour’s two enemies were in one camp the ‘dead weight’ of the Liberal-Labour alliance had been removed at last and the Labour members could monopolise the role of opposition.81 The rising cost of living gave moderate opposition forces their bread-and-butter issue; conscription gave militants a cause. Ward and the Liberal Party had, of necessity, to help shoulder responsibility for each. With increasing numbers of men away at the front, employers found difficulty getting labour. This only strengthened organised labour’s bargaining hand and made industrial unrest inevitable. For most of 1917 there were ‘go-slows’ threats of strikes, as well as several stoppages in the West Coast mines and on the waterfront. The conscription issue often intruded, as several militant leaders were arrested and ‘caged’, as Allen so delicately put it, for making anti-war comments at union meetings. Liverpool had nothing but praise for the government’s handling of industrial issues. ‘The energetic attitude towards anything which tended to disturb the peace, has presented difficulties, & stopt [sic] the malcontents & agitators from having any chance of causing real industrial trouble : those agitators who have tried to cause trouble have caught it pretty hot, & and in some cases have been sent to prison for a year’, he told Harcourt approvingly.82

Politically it was the Liberal Party that stood most to lose from the growing dissatisfaction with government policy, the newly formed New Zealand Labour Party most to gain. Almost certainly, if it had not been for the party truce between Liberal and Reform, Sir John Findlay would have lost the seat of Hawke’s Bay in the by-election following McNab’s sudden death in February 1917. The Opposition vote would have been split between Liberal and Labour.83 For the time being the Liberals were spared; it was not until the round of by-elections at the end of 1918 that their political irrelevance in the eyes of an angry electorate starkly emerged. In Wellington Central where the Liberal Candidate had toppled a Reform Cabinet Minister in 1914 the National (Liberal) candidate secured only 16 per cent of the vote in the October by-election that brought Peter Fraser to Parliament.

Ward had a special cross to carry during the war not shouldered by any of his colleagues. The problem stemmed from his religion. There is little doubt that a majority of Catholics in New Zealand had always been supporters of the Liberal Party and looked to it to ensure that they were not disadvantaged because of their religion. Seddon, not being a Catholic, often drew attention to the fact that this or that Catholic had been promoted. Because of the constant accusations made against Ward that he was favouring his coreligionists, he felt he should be very cautious. Almost certainly Catholics did less well from appointments and other government favours while Ward was leading the Liberals than they had from his predecessor. Over time some Catholics came to feel that having one of their own at the top was more a hindrance than a help to Catholic advancement.84

Ward’s relationship with Catholic authorities was a private matter, sometimes almost furtive. Whenever he was in the main centres he would visit the bishops. He wrote to them, but usually his letters were marked ‘Strictly Confidential’ or ‘Please return’. He received deputations from members of religious orders. Invariably he made contributions to Catholic projects from his own pocket. But his protestation in Parliament on 20 February 1912 that he had never interfered with appointments was almost certainly true. So much was this the case that when the obvious candidate to be appointed to be the new Commissioner of Police early in 1912 was Inspector John Cullen, a man well known in Catholic circles, Ward delayed making the announcement even though his Cabinet was unanimously in favour of the appointment. The fact that Cullen’s promotion was pending leaked out. When Ward passed from office without the necessary papers having been signed, and Mackenzie’s Government began toying with another person for the job, Bishop Cleary in Auckland and Bishop Grimes in Christchurch became indignant and protested to each other in the strongest terms, Cleary writing a very tart letter to Ward on the subject.84 Ward was equally upset about the turn of events and managed to corner ministers as well as the new Prime Minister about the appointment. Cullen eventually got the nod.85

Later in 1912 the election of a government headed by a Northern Irish Presbyterian saw Catholics decide that it was time to form the Catholic Federation of New Zealand. It aimed to resist the Bible in Schools Movement, to advance the cause of Catholic workers and immigrants, and to push the interests of Catholic schools.87 The war saw other more questionable issues intrude into this sectarian activity. There was some sympathy in New Zealand Irish-Catholic circles for the anti-war, anti-conscription campaign that was being waged vigorously in Australia, a campaign which came much closer to New Zealand when Dr J. Kelly, a nephew of the Archbishop of Sydney, was appointed editor of the New Zealand Tablet early in 1917. Kelly quickly turned it into a pro-Irish, anti-royal paper. Fanaticism begot fanaticism. The country went into what Bishop Cleary called ‘cycles of sectarian epilepsy’. Within months the Rev. Howard Elliott of the Mt Eden Baptist Church had launched the Protestant Political Association with the backing of the Orange Lodge, of which Massey was a member. The story of the PPA has been told elsewhere.88 Suffice it to say that the sectarian scene was highly charged by the time that the conscription of clergy became a raging issue in 1917.

Talk of conscription first surfaced in 1915. Immediately the government, and Ward in particular, were warned by the Catholic Church that great exception would be taken to any attempt to conscript clergy since any move in that direction would seriously deplete Catholic schools of their teaching orders.89 Ward seems to have believed he had adequate assurances from his colleagues that exemption for clergy and trainees, such as the Marist Brothers, would be forthcoming. When the Military Service Bill appeared in 1916, doubts began to be raised as to whether this was the case. Ward’s old friend, P. J. O’Regan, was incensed about the legislation and told a friend: ‘It … speaks volumes for Sir J. G. W.’s influence in Cabinet that he did not secure exemption for the clergy.’90 When the first three ballots were held, eighteen of the forty-six conscripted clergymen were Catholics. Appeals by two students against the draft were turned down in February 1917. It was on Ward that bishops and concerned laymen descended for a remedy. Bishop Cleary, who was in Ireland, wrote to Ward in London on 24 April 1917: ‘I ask you to see Mr Massey … especially on the conscription issue, to do whatever may lie in your power to have the matter settled, once and for all, in a manner satisfactory to us.’91 Ward indicated in his reply that legislation to exempt the clergy would be needed, and that the government would attend to the matter when he and the Prime Minister got back to New Zealand92

Ward received several deputations on his return, including one from Archbishop O’Shea, who found the discussion to be ‘of a most satisfactory nature’.93 Ward assured him that legislation to exempt the clergy, students and religious would be brought down as soon as possible. O’Shea had always been kindly disposed towards Ward, and wrote to Cleary that Ward seemed determined, and ‘as he is the man, whom all New Zealanders are looking to now to save the country, he can do what he likes provided he is firm’.94 O’Shea’s touching faith in Ward’s omnipotence was soon put to the test. The PPA was on the rampage by this time and the sectarian climate in which the legislative exemption was debated was poisonous in the extreme. The Expeditionary Forces Amendment Bill introduced on 11 September 1917 exempted only ministers and those in holy orders, so Ward moved an amendment to exempt all religious teachers as well. For the first time in his political life he fought directly and publicly on behalf of his co-religionists. All his lobbying skills were put to work. Most Liberal and all the Labour MPs supported him, as did enough Reform members for Ward’s amendment to pass the House by thirty-six to thirty-two. O’Shea was delighted. ‘If Ward would only fight oftener. He is really splendid when he does as today’, he wrote to Cleary.95 However, the celebration was premature. They all reckoned without the Legislative Council, where Reform Party appointees block-voted against the Bill. The House was about to recess, so the Bill had to be dropped. On 28 October the PPA staged a thanksgiving service in the Auckland Town Hall.

Ward was mortified by the turn of events and wrote a long ‘Strictly Private and Confidential’ note to Cleary where he railed against the ‘narrowness and prejudices’ of his opponents, but claimed he had found a way to solve the problem. Allen, who was more sympathetic to his viewpoint than Massey, would shortly call on Cleary and discuss the matter.96 Discussions were held. But the fact that education authorities were soon having to appeal against conscription of state schoolteachers because of chronic shortages solved the issue in the end. Ward’s most public fight on behalf of his church, one in which he was seen to fail, but in fact achieved some measure of success, was now over. The New Zealand Tablet earlier in the year had been so critical of Ward that O’Shea felt it necessary to reprove the editor. The Tablet now praised Ward for his ‘manly stand’.97 However, Ward was to pay a price for his efforts. The PPA had caught him red handed and would target him at the next election.