CHAPTER VIII

THE CAPTIVE CHIEF

The decision of which Governor Fitzroy had delivered himself, as the

result of his hurried investigation into the circumstances attending

the tragedy at the Wairau, brought him into bitter conflict with the

more influential colonists, and added to his native troubles a

European difficulty, which ultimately played no small part in his

official undoing. Fitzroy had, with a patriotism worthy of the best

traditions of our race, sacrificed place and high prospects in the

homeland to assume the Governorship of New Zealand, a post which was

afterwards described by Lord Stanley as "a laborious, responsible, and

ill-remunerated office in a distant colony." Without money, or the

means of obtaining it, to carry on his civil administration, and

destitute of military support wherewith to assert his authority, he

found himself defied by the natives and thwarted by the Europeans. His

appeals for soldiers were unheeded, and his schemes for supplementing

his revenue were disallowed by the Home authorities, who, instead of

repairing their policy of parsimony, recalled the Governor. Thus was

cut short a career upon which Robert Fitzroy had entered with only the

highest motives, throughout which he had acted with the utmost

devotion, and in which he had failed only because with his limited

opportunities it was humanly impossible to succeed. His successor in

the arduous task of soothing the dual discontent was Captain Grey,

late of the 83rd Regiment, who was then serving the Crown with

conspicuous distinction as Governor of South Australia. His success

in dealing with native difficulties there, his achievements as an

explorer, added to his valuable personal qualities, were his chief

recommendations for the new responsibilities which it was proposed to

ask him to assume. That the judgment of those responsible for the

selection was sound, history has proved; but the administrations of

Fitzroy and Grey cannot fairly be compared, for the reason that, while

the former was expected to rule a turbulent population without either

men or money, the latter was freely supplied with both. The new

Governor was further invested with the additional prestige derivable

from the title of Governor-in-Chief, and from the fact that he was

supported by a Lieutenant-Governor, who, in his subordinate authority,

was stationed in the Southern province. Captain Grey assumed the

duties of his new office on November 18, 1845. His first recorded

contact with Te Rauparaha was on the occasion of his receiving from

him and other chiefs a memorial, in which they expressed their anxiety

to know his political intentions, and begged him to give them someone

skilled in both native and European laws, who would advise them how

best to avoid conflict with the _pakeha_. They were, they said,

deeply anxious to obey the laws of the Queen, and just as they had

teachers amongst them to lead them to a proper understanding regarding

the will of God, so, in order to avoid misunderstanding, they desired

some one to act as their guide and friend in the matter of the

temporal law. Grey was more than gratified with this evidence of

loyalty and desire for harmony, and, in his reply, endeavoured to make

it clear that it was his duty so to direct his authority as to secure

the peace and happiness of all under his jurisdiction. "Maoris and

Europeans," wrote the Governor, "shall be equally protected and live

under equal laws, both of them alike subjects of the Queen and

entitled to her favour and care. The Maoris shall be protected in all

their property and possessions, and no one shall be allowed to take

anything from them or to injure them; nor will I allow Maoris to

injure one another. An end must be put to deeds of blood and

violence." This clear and explicit declaration of his determination to

permit of only one law for the _pakeha_ and Maori, and to hold the

racial balance justly before the eyes of the world, touched a

responsive chord in the heart of the Maori nation; and Te Rauparaha

was but expressing the general sentiments of the people when he wrote

in reply to the Governor's message: "We have heard your words, which

are like the light of day to us; our hearts are glad. Friend, now will

I hold fast your words for good, and for living in quiet, both of

natives and Europeans. Your protecting word has come forth for one and

for the other; your kind words are a light to us. Now, for the first

time, I can say the light has dawned for the Maoris, and now no

wrong-doing shall spring from me. I mean the errors of the natives. If

you cannot come hither, will you write to me?" Not less reassuring was

the word of Wi Kingi Rangitake, of Ngati-Awa.

With these pronouncements of loyalty from the two most powerful chiefs

on the west coast, Grey felt more than equal to the task of subduing

the malcontent natives under Taringa-kuri, chief of the Kaiwara

_pa_, whose depredations in the Hutt Valley had been causing the

greatest anxiety to the Wellington settlers. Both Te Rauparaha and

Rangihaeata had laid claim to part payment for the land which the New

Zealand Company had purchased in this valley, their claim being based

upon the alleged conquest of the country. This conquest Mr. Spain held

to be incomplete, inasmuch as they had not resided on the land, which

was really occupied by Ngati-Awa. He therefore disallowed their claim,

although Mr. Clarke, junr., was anxious to pay out of the £1,500

awarded to the natives a sum of £400 in liquidation of their rights,

he having come to some such arrangement with Rauparaha at an interview

which took place at Waikanae in the presence of the Governor. Hearing

of Mr. Spain's objection, Rauparaha, on February 3, 1844, penned a

letter to him, Mr. Clarke, and the Governor, in which he warned them

against paying the purchase-money for Port Nicholson over to "wrong

parties," and listening to "strange men," at the same time urging them

to make haste and come to Otaki for the purpose of explaining their

intentions to Rangihaeata and himself.

"FRIEND MR. CLARKE, MR. SPAIN, AND THE GOVERNOR,--This

letter is from me and Rangihaeata, respecting your foolish work in

paying for the land. This was the cause of you and us going wrong

at the Wairau, the foolish paying to wrong parties. Do not listen to

strange men, but make haste and make known to us your intentions,

that the truth of what you have said may be seen. Friend Clarke,

make haste. Desist from listening to any man. Son Clarke and

Mr. Spain, desist also from carrying your payment to men who have

nothing to do with it, but bring it straight to us--myself and

Rangihaeata. This is all my speech to you by us.

"RAUPARAHA.

"RANGIHAEATA."

To this Mr. Clarke replied on the 29th, assuring Rauparaha that

anything that he had promised him in the matter of payment would be

carried out. Simultaneously, Mr. Spain arranged to hold a court at

Porirua, in order to comply as speedily as possible with Te

Rauparaha's request. This court, which was opened on 8th March, was

attended by most of the leading chiefs and upwards of two hundred

natives. After the preliminary addresses had been disposed of, Mr.

Spain formally opened the court by saying, "Rauparaha, I received your

letter asking me to settle the Port Nicholson purchase, and after

inquiry I have decided that the natives who owned the land are

entitled to more money, and I therefore offer you new terms." To this

Te Rauparaha answered, "My wish was to settle my claims at Port

Nicholson, but you want me to give up the Hutt." "Did you not consent

to receive £300 for Port Nicholson and the Hutt?" inquired Mr. Spain

in an injured tone; to which Te Rauparaha replied that he had not

regarded the bargain in that light. Efforts were made to convince him

that he had signed a deed in which the Hutt was included, but he

insisted that the boundary was not to go beyond a creek known as

Rotokakahi. "I am aware of the cause of this objection," said Mr.

Spain. "That man sitting by your side, Taringa-kuri, is cultivating

land at the Hutt to which he has no right." Te Rauparaha's answer was

that the land belonged to Taringa-kuri, as he was the oldest man of

the resident natives; whereupon Mr. Spain rose to depart, and as he

did so he turned, and, more in sorrow than in anger, upbraided Te

Rauparaha for thus breaking faith with him in so flagrant a manner.

The court then adjourned without either party having been able to

convince the other. But Te Rauparaha did not permit the grass to grow

under his feet, for he at once despatched Taringa-kuri to cut a line

through the scrub and bush dividing the Upper from the Lower Hutt

Valley, in order to define clearly what territory he considered

belonged to the _pakeha_ and what to the Maori. On hearing that

this work was in progress, Mr. Spain felt it incumbent upon him to go

out and warn Taringa-kuri that he was committing an illegal act, and

that the boundary he was attempting to create would not be recognised

by the Government. Mr. Spain's reception was not an encouraging one.

"If you have come to make remarks about our cutting this line, you may

as well return, as we will listen to nothing you have got to say, nor

will we be deterred from it by you, by the Governor, or by the Queen,"

was the truculent declaration of the first native whom he met.

Taringa-kuri was not less uncompromising. "I am cutting a line to

divide the lands of the settlers from our own, and I am doing it under

Te Rauparaha's orders," was his emphatic reply to Mr. Spain's demand

for information as to why this work was proceeding. And in answer to

the Commissioner's protest that the line being cut was not the line

agreed upon, the chief, with a fine show of indignation, accused him

of hostile intentions. "It is plain," he said, "you are not peaceably

disposed; you heard at Porirua that Rauparaha would not agree to your

boundaries, and you appear determined to insist upon them. You had

better return to the land of your birth."

Immediately upon his return to Wellington, Mr. Spain despatched a

letter to Rauparaha again severely censuring him for committing a

breach of faith in sending Taringa-kuri to cut the line contrary to

his (Mr. Spain's) decision, and concluding by saying, "Let me tell you

that after all that has occurred, Kuri is acting contrary to the laws

of the Governor, and, if he persists in his illegal acts, he will be

punished by the law accordingly." This letter Mr. Spain first showed

to Mr. Hadfield, who approved its contents, and translated it into the

native tongue for him, Mr. Spain thinking that this course would

enhance its value in the native estimation. On the 27th Rauparaha

replied that it was not he who was withholding the land, but

Rangihaeata, who had negatived his voice in the councils of the tribe.

But he still reiterated his former contention that he had never agreed

to sell the Hutt.

The remonstrances on the part of Mr. Spain having proved fruitless,

the Governor first pacified Heke[173] and Kawiti in the north, and

then came south in February, 1846, with all the prestige of a

successful "fighting Governor," to direct his operations against the

truculent Taringa-kuri. In an interview, the Governor peremptorily

demanded the evacuation of the valley. The chief pleaded for time to

reap and remove the standing crops; but the Governor, strong in the

knowledge that he had right on his side, and an ample force to sustain

his demand, refused to consider any compromise, and gave the chief no

alternative between immediate compliance and a declaration of war. The

natives hesitated to test the question by an appeal to arms, and

sullenly withdrew from the disputed territory, but not from the valley

itself. They fell back upon a _pa_ up in the ranges, which the

Governor afterwards described as "the strongest position he had seen

in any part of the world." From this mountain fastness they made

sudden and destructive raids upon the peaceful settlements in the vale

below. Two hundred soldiers were left to render the settlers what

measure of protection they could, by defensive tactics. Their

instructions were not to attack the rebels in their stronghold, but,

by vigilantly preventing them from securing supplies, to endeavour by

starvation to render its continued occupation impossible. This policy

had early the anticipated effect, and, acting on Te Rauparaha's

assurance that the rebels had abandoned the _pa_, the Governor visited

the spot, and has thus described what he saw:--

"The forest which had been held by the enemy was traversed by a

single narrow path, almost impassable for armed Europeans. This path

ascended a narrow ridge of rocks, having a precipice on each side

covered with jungle. The ridge of rocks was so narrow that only one

person could pass along it at a time, and it led to a hill with a

broad summit, upon which a fortress had been constructed in such a

manner as completely to command the path, which was rendered more

difficult by an abattis placed across it. The rear of this position

was quite as inaccessible as the front, and on each flank was a

precipice; from the number of huts placed upon it, it must have been

occupied by from three hundred to four hundred men."

No sooner was this position abandoned than another, almost equally

impregnable, was taken up, and from this lair in the depth of the

hills a band of marauders crept down through the forest early in April

of 1846, stole past the troops, and late in the afternoon murdered a

settler named Gillespie and his son, while they were engaged threshing

wheat. There were soldiers in the vicinity at the time, but they were

more intent upon getting grog from Burcham's public-house than upon

protecting the settlers; and so stealthily was the attack carried out,

that no one knew of the tragedy until Charles Gillespie, returning

home in the dusk, found his father and brother in the throes of death.

Te Rauparaha disclaimed, and probably with truth, all knowledge of or

participation in this treacherous act, and even offered his assistance

in bringing the murderers to justice. Rangihaeata was not so frank--or

it may be that he was even more frank--for he instantly betook himself

to the hills, and openly declared himself in sympathy with those who

were thus contesting the question of the supremacy of the races. He

refused to give the murderers up to the authorities, and busied

himself with preparations for continuing the contest. Nor had the

military long to wait for his onset. The most advanced British post in

the valley was known as Boulcott's Farm, commanded by Lieutenant Page,

who had a force of fifty men with him. Here, just before dawn, on May

16, 1846, the sentry, as he kept his lonely vigil, was startled by

seeing some dark body creeping through the grass towards him. Without

waiting to challenge, he fired, and in an instant the air was rent

with the savage yells of a horde of warriors, who, under Mamaku, had

left Rangihaeata's _pa_ at Pahautanui on the previous day, and,

scaling the mountain range, had fallen upon the sleeping camp. The

sentry and the picket were soon overpowered and killed, but not before

the alarm had been given by Allen, the bugle-boy attached to the

company. Roused from sleep by the commotion, he seized his bugle, and

was in the act of sounding the call to arms, when a blow from a

tomahawk struck the instrument from his hand. He still had time to

recover it, and blow a blast which awakened his sleeping comrades,

before he was laid low by a second stroke of the murderous axe. A

galling fire was at once opened upon the outpost from the surrounding

bush by the secreted natives, and Lieutenant Page and two men, who

were with him in one of the out-buildings, hurried off to join their

comrades who had been sleeping in the stockade. Intercepted by a swift

rush on the part of a band of natives, they were only rescued from

their perilous position by a determined effort on the part of the

sergeant, who rallied some of the men and went to his commander's

relief. Three men went down with wounds, and the remaining six fought

the savages hand to hand, checking their onslaught until the wounded

were got safely away and the remainder were able to retreat to the

barn. Here the available force was assembled, and, leaving a

sufficient garrison to defend the position, Lieutenant Page[174] and

his men sallied out in extended order, firing as they went. Under this

pressure the attack soon slackened, and, on the arrival of

reinforcements, was turned into retreat, but not before six men had

been killed and four wounded. During the following month there was

another skirmish in the valley, which did not redound greatly to the

credit of the British arms.

These repeated raids convinced the Governor that he must lance the

lairs which were harbouring these human wolves, who represented all

that was worst in the native race. He had been desirous of deferring

field operations against these malcontents until the winter was over;

but, realising that every successful attack only encouraged the enemy

to further excesses, and diminished the enthusiasm of the loyal

natives, he now determined upon an immediate and active campaign. The

policy of road-making, which had been initiated some months before,

was vigorously prosecuted, the friendly natives, as well as the

soldiers, being employed in the work. The deep paths which were thus

cut through the luxuriant beauty of the wilderness to Porirua and into

the heart of the Hutt Valley robbed the forest of much of its terror,

and were masterly counter-strokes to the secret tactics of

Rangihaeata's followers. That chief's reply to the Governor's policy

was to build a _pa_ at Pahautanui, so skilfully situated and so

strongly fortified that he openly boasted that nothing but British

artillery could drive him from it. But he did more than this. A

_tapu_ placed on the Porirua track for a time disturbed and

paralysed our native allies; but the inconvenience was only

temporary, and the Governor succeeded in gradually breaking down the

chief's authority.

An important military post was established at Porirua, garrisoned by

three hundred men, and the services of the friendly natives were

enlisted in the contemplated movement against the forces of

Rangihaeata. His _pa_ was reconnoitred on the night of July 8th

by Lieutenant the Hon. Charles Yelverton, of the Royal Artillery, and

Mr. McKillop, then a midshipman on board H.M.S. _Calliope_, and

the conclusion at which they arrived was that the artillery might

easily be brought forward against the _pa_, and that in all other

respects its investment was feasible, so soon as the Governor had a

sufficient force at his disposal for the purpose. But there was one

other factor to be taken into account. What would Te Rauparaha's

attitude be if Rangihaeata were attacked? In his _pa_ at Taupo,

on the shores of Porirua Harbour, he occupied a strong strategical

position; and, though he had consistently professed his friendship for

the Governor and his loyalty to the Queen, he was supremely

distrusted, both by the authorities and by our native allies. As early

as June of 1846, Major Last had reported to the Governor, from

Wellington, that he was "a little suspicious of Te Rauparaha";[175]

but the insinuation of disloyalty coming to the chief's ears, he

challenged the Major's suspicions by offering to come to Wellington to

prove the contrary. In view of the intensely hostile feeling

prevailing amongst the European population against the chief, Major

Last deemed the proposed visit to be ill-timed and impolitic, and

declined to encourage Rauparaha in his intention. But the bold and

fearless proposal must have shaken the officer's confidence in the

grounds for his aspersion. The position of the chief at this time was

a most unenviable one, for there is evidence that the Governor had

begun to share the doubts of Major Last. It must not be forgotten,

however, that the seeds of suspicion may have been assiduously sown in

his mind by Rauparaha's tribal enemies, who would have exulted in

embroiling him in a dispute with the local authorities. Even his

friends who were with Rangihaeata in the field, either to further

their own schemes or out of resentment at his passive attitude, sought

to draw him into the vortex of the struggle. The _mana_ of the chief

was still great, and Rangihaeata and Mamaku endeavoured to conjure

with his name and claim his sanction for a letter to some tribal

comrades containing an appeal for assistance.

The native carrying this letter was captured, and the intercepted

document placed in the hands of the Governor, who immediately sailed

for Porirua in H.M.S. _Driver_. On board the vessel he was

visited by Te Rauparaha, and, during the interview, the incriminating

message was produced and handed to the chief, who instantly denounced

its contents as falsehoods and its writer as his enemy. "I watched him

narrowly at the time," says Grey, "and his manner was such as to lead

me to think that he really had no knowledge that such a letter had

been written." Though thus frankly confessing that the letter was an

injustice to the chief, the Governor, either from some innate mistrust

of his visitor or a too ready disposition to listen to the sinister

suggestions made against him, resolved that he would take no risks as

to the future conduct of the man whom he believed he had to checkmate.

He therefore determined that, before moving against Rangihaeata, he

would forestall any possibility of an attack upon his lines of

communication by capturing Te Rauparaha and holding him hostage for

the good behaviour of his tribe. Without indicating by sign or word to

the chief that the friendship between them was at an end, and without

permitting him even to suspect the existence of any doubts as to his

loyalty, the Governor took his farewell of Te Rauparaha, and on the

afternoon of July 22 left Porirua. For the purpose of allaying

suspicion, the _Driver_, in which he sailed, ostentatiously steamed to

the north; but during the night she returned and stealthily anchored

at the entrance of the harbour. Boats were lowered, and a company of a

hundred and thirty men, under Major Last, Captain Stanley, of H.M.S.

_Calliope_, and Lieutenant McKillop,[176] landed, and silently

surrounded the stockade of the Taupo _pa_, in which the chief and his

people were sleeping. The arrangements of the capturing party were so

admirably made that no suspicion of what was moving around them was

allowed to reach the natives until the stormers rushed into

Rauparaha's _whare_, and, seizing the chief in his bed, carried him,

in spite of his struggles and protestations, down to the boat side.

Lieutenant McKillop, who personally accomplished the seizure of the

chief, has left on record the following account of the exciting

incident:--

[Illustration: TE RANGIHAEATA.

After a drawing by C. D. Barraud. Esq.]

"I was sent for soon after we arrived, and had an interview with the

Governor, who informed me of Rauparaha's treachery, and his wish to

have him and three others taken prisoners, if possible by surprise;

and knowing that I was acquainted with their persons and locality, he

asked me if I would undertake the capture of the 'Old Serpent'

myself, allowing me to choose my own time and method of doing it,

Major Durie, the Inspector of Police, being selected to take the

others. Accordingly it was arranged that we were to leave the ship

before daylight the next morning and land quietly on the rocks some

little distance from the _pa_ in which our treacherous allies

lived, taking a mixed force of bluejackets and soldiers, amounting to

two hundred men, to support us in the case of the natives rising

before we had effected our object. It was the Governor's particular

desire that we should not lay our hands on these men until we had

told them they were prisoners for treason, but on no account to let

old Rauparaha escape. I took Mr. Dighton with me to act as

interpreter, and four of our men unarmed, giving them instructions to

seize upon the old chief as soon as he was made aware of the charge

preferred against him, and to hurry him down to the boat before he

could rouse his people, the principal object being to secure him. We

landed at break of day, and while they were forming the troops on the

beach, I with my small party ran on, as it was then light, fearing

that conscious guilt might sharpen their ears and frustrate our

plans. When we reached the _pa_ not a soul was stirring, but our

heavy footsteps soon brought some of the sleepers to the doors of

their huts, knowing we were not of the barefooted tribe. We could not

wait to give any explanation, but pushed on to the hut which

contained the object of our search, whose quick ears had detected

strange footsteps. Never having liked me, he did not look at all easy

on perceiving who the intruder was, although his wife showed no alarm

and received me with her usual salutation. Upon informing him that he

was my prisoner, he immediately threw himself (being in a sitting

posture) back into the hut, and seized a tomahawk, with which he made

a blow at his wife's head, thinking she had betrayed him. I warded

the blow with my pistol and seized him by the throat, my four men

immediately rushing in on him, and, securing him by his arms and

legs, started off as fast as his violent struggles would allow of,

which for a man of his age (upwards of seventy) were almost

superhuman. He roared out lustily 'Ngati-Toa! Ngati-Toa!'

endeavouring to bring his tribesmen to his rescue, and in a few

seconds every man was on his legs and came rushing over to see what

was the matter with their chief; but the troops and bluejackets

coming up at the same time and surrounding the _pa_ prevented

any attempt at a rescue, as he was already in the boat. His last

effort to free himself was fastening with his teeth on to my

coxswain's shoulder, who bore this piece of cannibalism unflinchingly.

I sent Mr. Dighton off to the ship with him, there being not much

chance of his escaping from the boat, particularly as he was informed

that he would be shot if he attempted to escape. I then returned to

the _pa_ to search for arms and ammunition, and also to see if

the other prisoners had been secured. The interior of the _pa_

presented a woeful spectacle, the women all howling in chorus with

the pigs and the children, the two latter being much knocked about in

the search for arms."

In the mêlée which ensued upon the capture of Te Rauparaha, four other

natives were also seized by Major Durie, and in the same arbitrary

manner were carried off to the ship.[177] Two of these were the

influential chiefs, Te Kanae (the _ariki_ of the Ngati-Toa tribe) and

Hohepa, and two were men of inferior rank. By some writers who have

been at no pains to conceal their hostility to Te Rauparaha, it is

alleged that upon his arrival on board the _Driver_ he manifested the

most craven spirit, until he was assured that it was not the

Governor's intention to hang him from the yard-arm. But, whatever be

the truth of this assertion, he at least retained sufficient dignity

and self-respect as a chief to strenuously object to the additional

humiliation of being imprisoned in company with men of no standing in

the tribe; and, in deference to his injured pride and his vehement

expostulations, Pohe and his companion were sent ashore and released

from their brief captivity.

Naturally, the little settlement at Taupo was thrown into a state of

intense excitement. The seizure of their chief was so sudden, so

unexpected, that its reality could not for the moment be grasped; but

when its full significance broke in upon the astonished tribe, the

startling tidings was immediately despatched to Te Rangihaeata, who

was still sitting in defiance in his stronghold at Pahautanui. He at

once made for the coast, but was too late. The Governor had several

hours' start of him, and he was compelled to make a wide detour to

avoid the British post at Porirua. He arrived on the wooded hill-side

above Te Rauparaha's _pa_ only in time to see the war-ship with

her captives steaming down the coast.[178] Enraged and disappointed at

what he must have regarded as the perfidy of the _pakeha_, and

disheartened at his own impotency, he gloomily retired to his lair,

there to sing[179] that beautiful lament, in which he mournfully

acknowledges the increasing ascendancy of the stranger, and chides the

waning loyalty of his own people.

"My brave canoe!

In lordly decoration lordliest far,

My proud canoe!

Amid the fleet that fleetest flew--

How wert thou shattered by the surge of war!

'Tis but the fragments of thy wreck,

O my renowned canoe,

That lie all crushed on yonder war-ship's deck!

Raha! my chief, my friend!

Thy lonely journey wend:

Stand with thy wrongs before our god of battle's face:

Bid him thy foes requite!--

Ah me! Te Raukawa's foul desertion and disgrace--

Ah me! the English ruler's might!

Raha! my chief of chiefs!

Ascend with all thy griefs

Up to their Lord of Peace--there stand before His face--

Let Him thy faith requite!--

Ah me! Te Toa's sad defection and disgrace--

Ah me! the English ruler's might!

One counsel from the first I gave,

'Break up thy forces, comrade brave,

Scatter them all about the land

In many a predatory band!'--

But Porirua's forest dense,

Ah, thou wouldst never stir from thence,

'There,' saidst thou, 'lies my best defence,'--

Now, now, of such design ill-starred,

How grievously thou reap'st the full reward!

Hence, vain lamenting--hence, away!

Hence, all the brood of sorrow born!

There will be time enough to mourn

In the long days of summer, ere the food

Is cropped, abundant for the work of blood.

Now I must marshal in compact array,

Great thoughts that crowding come of an avenging day!"[180]

The seizure of Te Rauparaha, at such a time and in such a manner, is

one of the many debatable points in the history of this period, and,

notwithstanding that many pages have been written upon the incident,

the ethics of the act are apparently as far from final determination

as ever. To the present writer its justification lies in its success.

There is no doubt that, however high-handed and arbitrary, it was a

tactical stroke which compelled waverers to pause, and paralysed those

who were already in active hostility. On the other hand, it might just

as easily have roused the whole Maori race into a frenzy of injured

pride, and plunged the country into the vortex of a retaliatory war.

Only one thing saved New Zealand from this calamity, and that was the

tribal dissensions. Had the Maori been a united people, this

unprovoked indignity put upon one of their greatest men must have

excited their bitterest passions against the perpetrators of the deed;

and one almost shudders to realise in what a hair-balance the fate of

the little Colony trembled at this moment of her history. In

criticising the Governor's policy, however, it must be borne in mind

that he, with his knowledge of Maori conditions, may have counted upon

these very intertribal hatreds to prevent anything in the nature of a

general rising. This being assumed, his action is shorn of some of its

rashness and impolicy, and he becomes entitled to credit for the

success of his methods of overawing the turbulent spirit of the

malcontent Maoris. On no other ground than that the end justifies the

means can the seizure of Te Rauparaha be defended, nor, so far as the

writer is aware, has any other defence ever been seriously attempted.

The most that can be urged against the chief is that, unlike Te Kingi

Rangitake, he did not join the allies and enter upon active

hostilities against the so-called rebels. Of the fact that he secretly

aided them there is little evidence and no proof. What evidence there

may be is confined to the intercepted letters, admitted by the

Governor himself to be forgeries, and to the unsupported statements of

natives, some jealous of his power, and others aggrieved at his

previous treatment of them. In this respect Te Rauparaha must have

felt that, having sown the wind, he was now reaping the whirlwind; for

those natives who had gone down under his hand in war, or had been

outwitted by his diplomacy, were only too anxious to represent him in

an unfavourable light to the Governor, and were never tired of

insinuating, and even broadly asserting, that his spirit was behind

the rebellion, even though his hand might be invisible.

In communicating with Mr. Gladstone on July 23, 1846, Grey described

his military operations, which were designed to check a company of

some two hundred rebels who, he had reason to believe, were marching

from Whanganui to join Te Rangihaeata. He landed at Waikanae, Otaki,

and Ohau, where he had a conference with the friendly chiefs. He

proceeded to say: "The whole of the chiefs with whom I had interviews

declared that these disturbances were to be entirely attributed to the

intrigues of Te Rauparaha." How much his mind was influenced by the

opinions of the chiefs may be judged by the fact that on the following

day he launched his successful stroke, but how little he had weighed

the value of their testimony may also be inferred from the

circumstance that a year later he wrote a despatch to Mr. Gladstone's

successor at the Colonial Office, in which he was forced to admit that

after retaining Te Rauparaha in captivity for ten months his

difficulties in deciding how to dispose of him were enhanced by the

fact that all his "efforts made to secure the evidence of Pohi[181]

failed, consequently it was not possible to prove Te Rauparaha's guilt

in a court of law."

It is strange, if so many chiefs knew that the brain of Te Rauparaha

was forging the balls which Rangihaeata was firing, that none were

able to testify to the fact in an established court of law, and,

travesty upon British justice though it may seem, it is nevertheless a

fact that the man who had relied upon the Treaty of Waitangi to

secure him his rights and liberties was detained a prisoner without

formal charge and without the chance of a trial until it was thought

possible to prove his guilt. How far Te Rauparaha's seizure and

continued detention were a palliation to the wounded feelings of the

European settlers it is difficult to pronounce, but it is not in the

least unlikely that the Governor paid some regard to the popular

effect of the step, even if he totally ignored its judicial aspect. In

all probability Te Rauparaha was at this time the best-hated man in

New Zealand. The memory of the massacre at the Wairau had not yet died

out, and there were many who, misunderstanding that fatal event, could

not look upon the chief whose name had been so tragically associated

with it in any other light than as a social and moral outcast. To this

not inconsiderable section of the community imprisonment was much too

good for Te Rauparaha, but it was preferable to the negative attitude

of Governor Fitzroy, and Grey, no doubt, counted upon standing well

with these extremists by the initiation of a policy in which there was

a touch of retribution, however barren it might be of justice.

With the European population, then, the kidnapping of the Ngati-Toa

leader was, on the whole, a popular move, and with a number of the

natives it was hailed as an act of retribution, long delayed, but

nevertheless a judgment at last. Upon his own people the effect was

different. They were stunned by the swiftness of the blow and

confounded by its audacity. Here in a twinkling the very eye had been

plucked out of their head, the heart torn from their body, and that,

too, at a time when they had no quarrel with the Government, and by a

man whom they had been wont to regard as their friend. Their first

impulse was to fly to arms. To attack Wellington, to sweep the

_pakeha_ into the sea, to avenge the wrongs of Te Rauparaha, was

the cry. Te Rangihaeata called his own followers about him and sent

out his appeals to the northern tribes: "Friends and children, come

and revenge the injuries of Te Rauparaha, because Te Rauparaha is the

eye of the faith of all men. Make haste hither in the days of

December." But his design for the extermination of the Europeans was

doomed to be frustrated. His own particular faithfuls were few in

number, and the one great chief, Te Heuheu, to whom he might have

looked for encouragement in such an emergency, was dead, buried

beneath a huge landslide which had overwhelmed his village on the

shores of Lake Taupo. Of others with whom he had been accustomed to

co-operate in the days gone by, some were espousing the cause of the

enemy, and some, having embraced the Christian faith, had grown weary

of incessant war. Their reply, which was something in the nature of a

rebuke, betokened that they had realised the futility of opposing the

further progress of the _pakeha_. "How can you dry up the sea? That is

why we say, finish fighting with the European." Such was their answer

to his summons to arms, and Rangihaeata was left to fall back upon his

small band of war-worn desperadoes to carry on a struggle which was

hopeless from the first.[182]

Abandoned to his own resources, he applied himself to his duties of

leader with the energy of despair. Realising that his position at

Pahautanui was no longer tenable, as its swamps and shallows were no

protection against the artillery which he knew was collected at

Porirua, he withdrew his forces into the deeply wooded Horokiwi

Valley. Through this forest defile, tangled and matted by an almost

impenetrable undergrowth, he was pursued by a force of 1,000 men,

composed of militia and native allies, under Major Last. Te

Rangihaeata's generalship proved equal to the peculiar circumstances

in which he found himself, and his genius for war won for him the

warmest encomiums from British officers, who have generously expressed

their admiration for the skill with which the chief conducted his

retreat. Into the density of the wooded valley he led his pursuers,

enticing them by a simulated resistance, but abandoning his camps as

soon as they pressed too closely upon him. In one of these

semi-fortified resting-places the British soldiers discovered the

bugle which had been taken from the boy Allen when he was struck down

at the fatal fight at Boulcott's Farm.

At length, retreat being no longer possible, the rebel chief turned at

bay and fought his pursuers at a point near the head of the valley.

His decision to throw down the gage of battle here was not the result

of accident or impulse, but was due to deliberate calculation. The

position was admirably chosen, and he held the enemy in check long

enough to enable him to fortify it effectively. He threw a rough

breastwork of tree-trunks across the narrow neck of a spur springing

from a densely wooded hill, the approach to which was flanked by steep

ravines, leaving so narrow a ridge that it could only be passed

abreast by a very limited force of men. This wooden rampart, which

presented so imposing a front to an enemy, was liberally perforated

with loopholes, through which the defenders were able to concentrate

their fire with deadly effect upon any approaching force. This

arrangement, combined with the inaccessible nature of the ground, made

its seizure by storm practically impossible. Nevertheless, an attack

was determined upon, and on the morning of August 6, 1846, fire was

opened upon the position, but with no other visible result than that

Ensign Blackburn[183] and two privates were killed and nine others

wounded. On the following day the assault, which had been so

inauspiciously commenced, was suspended, for Major Last had now seen

enough to convince him that some projectile more searching than

bullets was necessary to dislodge the defenders from their stronghold.

He accordingly sent to Porirua and procured two small mortars, which,

after infinite labour spent in dragging them into position, were

discovered to be absolutely worthless for purposes of attack, for the

high forest trees made accurate gunnery impossible. Seeing his troops

in a deplorable condition, even after this short bush campaign, and

hopeless of driving Rangihaeata out, except at an enormous sacrifice

of human life, Major Last decided to withdraw the regular troops and

leave the friendly natives, under Puaha, to watch and wait for hunger

to work its effects upon the stubborn garrison. A few days sufficed

for this. On the 13th the allies were surprised by a hail of lead

suddenly raining down upon their lines. No sooner had they sprung to

arms than they saw that the enemy was afoot, the volley which they had

fired being the signal for retreat. Immediately the real nature of the

movement was ascertained, Puaha and his loyalists rushed forward over

the fallen trees and broken ground, and reached the breastwork only in

time to see the last of the defenders escape by the thickly veiled

forest track, where they were swallowed up by the bush and lost to

human view.

Hunger and cold had done their work, for there were no signs of food

supplies inside the camp except some edible fern. Nor did the escape

of the defenders to the open avail them much, for they were so harried

by the followers of Puaha as they fled along the snow-covered mountain

ridge that the opportunities for procuring food were few and

uncertain. Some made their perilous way to the coast, in the secret

hope of finding food and shelter amongst their friends in the

_pas_, but these were for the most part found by the vigilant

Wiremu Kingi, and either driven back into the mountain fastnesses or

promptly secured as prisoners of war.[184] Deeming himself fortunate

to have so far evaded death or capture, Te Rangihaeata retreated

northwards with his famished adherents until he reached the lowlands

of the Manawatu. There, beaten though still defiant, he retired to a

_pa_ built in the midst of the swamps and marshes of Poroutawhao,

where he laid down his arms and, sullenly drawing his mat about him,

prepared to watch the irresistible march of the _pakeha_, though

refusing to acknowledge defeat at his hands. "I am finished," he wrote

to the Governor, "but do not suppose that you conquered me. No; it was

these my own relatives and friends, Rangitake and others. It was by

them I was overcome, and not by you, O Governor."[185]

A new cause for anxiety, in the outbreak of hostilities at Whanganui,

now diverted Grey's attention momentarily from the fugitive chief,

who improved the respite thus given by refraining from any act of

violence. Although no formal peace was declared, Grey wisely decided

not to precipitate further trouble by following him into the marshes

of Poroutawhao. True, on the very day (April 18, 1847) that the news

of the outbreak at Whanganui reached Wellington, the chief made a

sensational descent upon Kapiti. In the grey of the early morning a

whaler named Brown was awakened by a sound at the door of his hut,

and, as he raised himself on his elbow, he saw the tall form of

Rangihaeata enter the room with a tomahawk in his hand. The whaler not

unnaturally thought he had come to take his life, and, in his

subsequent narration of the incident, he indulged in some heroics,

telling how he had challenged the chief to slay him on the spot. But

Rangihaeata was not in search of a defenceless whaler's blood. He had

come to demand some powder which was rightly his, and which he had

left there for safe keeping. When he had secured his property, he went

harmlessly away, after shaking hands in the most friendly manner with

the frightened seaman. Some of his followers, however, were not quite

so scrupulous; and, in searching the hut for the powder, they had

appropriated a bundle of bank notes and some sovereigns, and secreted

them about their persons until they returned to the _pa_. Here

Rangihaeata discovered the theft, and immediately sent back the

plunder to the Governor, accompanied by a characteristic note, in

which he made it clear that, however much he might be in opposition to

the Government, he had no desire to be esteemed a common thief.

With Rangihaeata beaten out of the field, we may now return to Te

Rauparaha, whom we left in the hands of his captors. To ensure his

greater security, he was, immediately upon the arrival of the

_Driver_ at Wellington, transferred to H.M.S. _Calliope_,[186] where

he was placed under the watchful eye of Captain Stanley, for whom, we

are told, he afterwards acquired a high regard. On board this ship he

was detained with some show of liberty for upwards of ten months,

visiting the principal ports of northern and central New Zealand, as

the duties of the station demanded the presence of the vessel. During

all this period no attempt was made to bring him to trial, though no

pains were spared by the Governor to secure the evidence which would

ensure his conviction. In a despatch written to the Colonial Office on

December 1, 1846, Grey endeavoured to explain his position and justify

his halting attitude, but, in the trenchant words of one of his

critics, his was a justification which itself required to be

justified:--

"A number of designing Europeans, who are annoyed at my

interfering with their illegal purchases of land, have thought it

proper to agitate the question of the justice and propriety of my

arresting Te Rauparaha. Some most improper publications have

already appeared, and I regret to state that I find a great effect is

being produced upon the minds of the native chiefs. The difficulty

of my position is that I am not yet quite satisfied whether or not it

will be expedient or necessary to bring the old man to trial. In fact,

I am rather anxious to avoid doing so, and I fear that, were I to

make public the various crimes for which he has been seized by the

Government, and the proofs of his guilt upon which the Government

justify his detention, a large portion of the European population

would be so exasperated against him that it would be difficult

for the Government to avoid bringing him to trial; and, if I were

compelled to adopt this step from having made known the charges

against him, I should probably be accused of having ungenerously

prejudiced the public against him previously to his being brought to

trial."

The only impression which the unbiassed student can derive from a

perusal of this specious reasoning is that the Governor, in seeking to

excuse himself for an unjustifiable action, has in reality delivered

his own condemnation for a grave breach of trust. If the "various

crimes" of which the chief was suspected were as defined as the

Governor implies they were, and if "the proofs of his guilt upon which

the Government justified his detention" were clear and unimpeachable,

obviously then it was his bounden duty to the Colony and to Te

Rauparaha that the chief should be brought to trial at the earliest

possible moment. But the real fact was that the offences of Te

Rauparaha were as imaginary as the proofs of his guilt were mythical,

and he was kept captive on a ship of war while the Governor was

diligently endeavouring to find Pohi, who was supposed to be possessed

of important secrets, or was sedulously filling in the missing links

in the chain of evidence which he hoped would establish the fact that

certain messengers, who were known to have carried information to

Rangihaeata, were indeed sent by Te Rauparaha.

A fruitless ten months was spent in these endeavours to bring home

guilt to Te Rauparaha, and at the end of that time Grey was forced to

admit that he was still unable to prove the chief guilty in a court of

law. He therefore began to consider how far he was justified in longer

detaining him, while still refusing to do him the justice of giving

him a clear acquittal. He temporised with other reasons, from which it

is clear that he regarded the step as one of expediency rather than of

right. "The detention of the prisoners," he wrote to Earl Grey, "has

caused expense and inconvenience to the Government"; and therefore, to

relieve his administration of something which it had forced upon

itself, he was magnanimous enough to loose the chains from off the

chief. But the Governor was also influenced by other considerations.

He believed that the capture and long captivity of Te Rauparaha had

completely destroyed his _mana_, so that he was now incapable of

originating any new mischief, even if he were so inclined. But we

may also do him the justice of believing that he was genuinely anxious

to placate the Ngati-Toa people, who had repeatedly petitioned him for

their leader's release, and to allay an ugly suspicion, which had

gained credence amongst them, that Te Rauparaha had been murdered, and

that his so-called detention was merely a subterfuge to cover a

desperate crime.

"Repeated applications," wrote the Governor, "have been made

by Te Rauparaha's tribe for his release, and this step seems to be

quite justified by his ten months of good conduct. Waka Nene and

Te Wherowhero also petitioned for his release, and went guarantee

for his good behaviour. Upon the whole, with the larger force that

will be placed at my disposal, and after the convincing proofs which

the natives have so frequently afforded of their regarding their

interests as identical with those of the Government, I entertain no

apprehension of Te Rauparaha being able to effect further mischief,

even if he were disposed to do so. I therefore determined to order

his release, merely requiring Te Wherowhero and Waka Nene to

pledge their words for his future good conduct, and although I

exacted no conditions either from themselves or from the prisoners,

I recommended them to require both Te Rauparaha and Hohepa to

reside on the northern portions of the island until I felt justified in

stating that I had no objection to them permitting Te Rauparaha to

return to his own country."

Under the guarantee of good conduct given by Te Wherowhero and Waka

Nene, Te Rauparaha was released at Auckland, and was received as a

guest into Te Wherowhero's house, which had been built for him by the

Government in what is now the Auckland Domain. Here, though nominally

free, he must have felt the bitterness of his exile, for he frequently

displayed the humiliation which was surging within his soul by

relapsing into periods of deep melancholy, during which he doubtless

meditated upon the departed glory of the past and the hopelessness of

the future. With him times had indeed changed. From the imperious

leader of a victorious tribe, supreme and absolute, his word the word

of authority, his very look, his merest gesture, an unquestionable

command, he found himself shorn of his power, degraded by captivity,

destitute of influence, and little more than a memory--the hoary

vestige of a stately ruin. But his path was not all strewn with

thorns, and there were not wanting those, both Maori and European, who

strove to lighten his burden and salve his wounded soul. Visitors

frequently sought to cheer his drooping spirits, and, as a compliment

to the conqueror of Kapiti, Te Wherowhero brought the flower of the

Hauraki chiefs to do him honour. In September, 1847, two hundred of

these warriors, casting aside their tribal prejudices, came and

visited him. As the kilted band of strangers advanced, Te Rauparaha,

dressed in a dogskin mat and forage cap, went out to meet them. He

saluted several of the leading men according to native custom, and

then followed the speechmaking inseparable from Maori gatherings.

Squatting in a semicircle upon the ground, the assemblage listened

with rapt attention to the oration delivered by Te Rauparaha, of whom

all had heard, but whom few had previously seen. His speech was a

dignified recitation of his past deeds, and while he spoke of his

struggles with Waikato, his pilgrimage, and his conquests, he

delivered himself brilliantly and dramatically, for the fire of the

old warrior seemed to burn again within him and the blood of the

victor to pulsate once more through his veins. But when he came to

describe his seizure and captivity, the injustice and humiliation of

it all bore down his valiant spirit, and he concluded his oration with

difficulty and almost in tears. To this great effort of Maori

eloquence replies of a lengthy and ceremonial nature were delivered by

Taraia, Te Wherowhero, and several members of Hauraki's aristocracy,

and then food was served on a sumptuous scale to the strangers. It

was, however, noticed that Te Rauparaha ate but sparingly and was ill

at ease. He rose and walked to his house, into which he was followed

by two of the women, who there sang to him of the deeds of his

fathers, and of the heroes of the ancient line from which he had

sprung, the lament bringing a flood of tears to the old man's dim eyes.

Still under the surveillance of Te Wherowhero, Te Rauparaha spent six

months in the country of the Waikatos, the scene of some of his

youthful exploits; but, feeling his freedom to be liberty only in

name, and himself a stranger in a strange land, he preferred a request

to the Governor to be allowed to return to his own people by the

shores of Cook Strait, where was centred everything in life that he

valued. The Governor granted his request, believing that he had now

nothing to fear from the chief, and recognising that his return would

have a quieting influence upon Rangihaeata, who, during his uncle's

absence, had steadfastly refused to believe that the man by whose

orders Wareaitu[187] had been executed would be more merciful to Te

Rauparaha. Accordingly, in January of 1848, the Governor, Lady Grey,

Lieut.-Colonel Mundy, Te Wherowhero, Taraia, Te Rauparaha, and several

other chiefs, embarked on board H.M.S. _Inflexible_ and steamed

for Otaki. Arrived there, the vessel was immediately boarded by

Tamihana Te Rauparaha, who, clothed in the garb of a clergyman, came

off to welcome his father.

The morning of January 16, 1848, was the time appointed for the

restoration of Te Rauparaha to his people. When the boats had been

lowered to row the party ashore, the old chief came upon the

quarter-deck dressed in full naval uniform, even to the cocked hat and

the epaulets. His surprise and indignation were, however, considerable

when he observed that the Governor and his suite had no idea of

regarding the event as a State occasion, and were clothed in simple

undress coats. Nor was his ill-temper improved when the Governor

further robbed the incident of ceremonial importance by refusing to

accord to him the honour of a salute from the ship's guns as he left

the vessel's side. With eyes flashing and nostrils dilated, he sprang

back into his cabin, and, throwing off his brilliant uniform,

immediately reappeared wrapped in the sombre folds of an ancient

blanket. Wounded in spirit at the absence of those impressive features

which would have made his homecoming something of a triumph, he landed

on the Otaki beach in no enviable mood; and, as the party proceeded

towards the inland _pa_, he turned away from them, and sitting down in

the sand with his face towards the ocean, covered his old grey head

with his mat, and for two hours sat and sobbed like a child. During

this meditation of tears no one approached him. Maori etiquette

forbade his kinsmen breaking in upon his grief, and European courtesy

dictated a discreet respect for the feelings of one who had come back

to find the times so vastly changed, and for him so sadly out of

joint.

In that brief time, as the old warrior sat sighing in sympathy with

the sobbing sea, there must have passed before him in vivid picture

the whole panorama of his eventful life--his struggles, his schemes,

his dreams, the anguish of defeat, the glut of victory, and then the

final triumph in which tribe after tribe went down before him, and his

name became wonderful and mighty throughout the land. But now, because

of the advent of the _pakeha_, power had melted in his hand like

snow. His life, like the wind-swept ruin of his old heathen _pa_,

which stood broken and dilapidated a few chains off, had become but a

shadow and a memory of the past; an exemplification of the fallible

and transitory nature of mundane things. At length, rousing himself

from his reverie, he proceeded to the new Christian settlement of

Hadfield, at Otaki, which had been built mainly by the efforts of his

son, Tamahana te Rauparaha, and his nephew, Matene te Whiwhi. A motley

crowd of five or six hundred people poured out of the little

settlement to welcome their chief, the Governor, and Lady Grey; and,

as an evidence of the elevating influences which were operating

amongst them,[188] prayers in the native tongue were read in the open

air, before the feast which had been prepared for the visitors was

placed before them. A glass-windowed, carpeted _whare_ was the

banquet-room, and a clean damask cloth covered the table at which the

guests were seated, while a daughter of Rangihaeata courteously

discharged the duties of hostess.

On the following day Te Rauparaha presented himself before

the people, and was received with the usual evidences of Maori

jubilation--interminable speeches, wild and barbarous dances, and

endless feasting. Almost immediately he exercised the prerogative of

his freedom by visiting Rangihaeata, who was hovering in the

neighbourhood of Otaki, but with what intent no one knew. Te Rauparaha

was accompanied by Te Wherowhero and some of the visiting chiefs, and

the _korero_ lasted several days. What the precise nature of their

discussions was will never be known; but that they were not of a

treasonable nature may be inferred from the fact that the Governor,

hearing that Rangihaeata was at that time harbouring a notorious

murderer, whom he refused to deliver up to justice, sent a letter to

Te Rauparaha calling upon him and his compatriots to show their

displeasure at Rangihaeata's conduct by instantly withdrawing from his

presence. At the time the letter arrived, the chiefs were on the point

of sitting down to partake of Rangihaeata's hospitality; but without

hesitation they rose and left, though not before telling the obdurate

chief their reason for doing so.[189]

This evidence of unfailing loyalty to the Crown was as gratifying to

the Governor as it must have been aggravating to Rangihaeata, who,

when he met His Excellency at Otaki, roundly abused him and all the

_pakehas_ for their presumptuous interference with his affairs.

He declared that he was not tired of war, but evidently men and women

had changed with the times, and now preferred to fight with the tongue

rather than the _mere_ or the musket. His contempt for the

Europeans and all their doings was still as vehement as ever,[190] and

in his violent denunciation of their encroachment upon his privileges

as a chief, he declared that he wanted nothing of them, and he wore

nothing of their work. He was then standing before the Governor, a

tall and picturesque figure arrayed in a lustrous dogskin mat, with

adornments in his hair; and when Grey quietly exposed his

inconsistency by pointing to a peacock's feather dangling about his

head, he angrily muttered, "True, that is _pakeha_," and cast it

scornfully from him.

Though Rangihaeata never accepted the Christian faith, in course of

time his feelings mellowed and his attitude somewhat modified towards

the occupation of the land by the white people. He not only acquiesced

in the policy of road-making, which he had at first so strenuously

opposed, but in 1852 he constructed two lines at Poroutawhao at his

own expense. A school was even established at his _pa_, and

subsequently his declared principles not to use British goods were so

far modified that he purchased and drove in an English-made buggy

along roads made by British soldiers. His feelings, too, towards the

Governor considerably softened, and when, in 1852, Sir George Grey was

about to proceed to England for a holiday, the chief wrote to him in

terms of genuine friendship, which gave proof of the surprising change

which had come over the hitherto untamable spirit of "the tiger of the

Wairau":--

"O Governor! my friend, I send you greeting. I need scarcely

call to your remembrance the circumstances attending my flight

and pursuit: how it was that I took refuge in the fastnesses and

hollows of the country, as a crab lies concealed in the depths and

hollows of the rocks. You it was who sought and found me out,

and through your kindness it is that I am at this present time

enjoying your confidence and surrounded with peace and quietness.

This, then, is the expression of my esteem for you, which I take

occasion to make now that you are on the point of leaving for your

native land."

The release of Te Rauparaha was the signal for a furious outburst of

hostile criticism against the Governor, and Colonel Wakefield led the

agitation in one of the biased and bitter effusions usual with him

where Te Rauparaha was concerned.[191] But the anticipation of the

Governor that the chief could, or would, cause the authorities no

further trouble, appears to have been amply justified. So far as is

known of him from this time until his death, he lived quietly and

unostentatiously at the Otaki settlement. It would seem that he

accepted with as good grace as he might the new order of things, and

even sought to assist his people in reaching a higher plane of

civilisation than at his advanced years he himself could ever hope to

attain. It is at least accounted unto him for righteousness by his

son, Tamahana, that it was at his suggestion the Ngati-Raukawa people

built the now famous church[192] at Otaki, wherein the tribe has so

often heard the glad tidings of "peace on earth and goodwill towards

men," so strongly contrasted with their old heathen doctrine of blood

for blood. A striking feature in the architecture of this church is

its central line of large totara pillars, which rise to a height of 40

feet, carrying the solid ridge-pole above. These wooden columns were

hewn out of the forest on the banks of the Ohau, which in those days

ran into the Waikawa, forming one large stream. The trees were felled

in the bush, floated down the river to the sea, and thence dragged

along the coast, one native standing on the tree with pole in hand to

guide it through the surf, while a string of stalwart men tugged at

the heavy tow-ropes, as they marched along the sandy beach. Column

after column was, in this way, eventually landed at Waitohu, near

Otaki, and then hauled across the sandhills by hundreds of brawny arms

to the site where the church now stands. There the trees were, with

infinite labour, dressed and prepared with native adzes, which are

still kept in the church as interesting mementoes. No machinery of any

kind was available to assist in the construction of the sacred

edifice. Hand labour was everywhere brought into requisition, and only

the most cunning workmen were employed, men of reputed skill being

brought from the Manawatu to design and execute the carvings of the

interior, while the reed lacework round the walls was also dexterously

woven by these same masters of Maori art.

Some attempt has been made, but with dubious success, to prove that Te

Rauparaha ordered the building of this church because he had become

deeply and genuinely religious, and his son has given us the pious

assurance that he spent these last of his days "continually

worshipping."[193] "I saw," says an intelligent but newly arrived

clergyman, who visited him at this time, "amongst the other men of

note, the old and once powerful chief, Te Rauparaha, who,

notwithstanding his great age of more than eighty years, is seldom

missed from his class, and who, after a long life of perpetual

turmoil, spent in all the savage excitement of cruel and bloody wars,

is now to be seen every morning in his accustomed place, repeating

those blessed truths which teach him to love the Lord with all his

heart and mind and soul and strength, and his neighbour as himself."

This amiable picture, drawn in a spirit of enlarged charity, is

unfortunately dimmed, and the sincerity of the chief's religious

convictions discounted, by the story related of him by a

conscientious, if unfriendly, critic. "A few days before his death,"

says this writer,[194] "when suffering under the malady which carried

him off, two settlers called to see him. While there, a neighbouring

missionary came in and offered him the consolations of religion.

Rauparaha demeaned himself in a manner highly becoming such an

occasion, but the moment the missionary was gone, he turned to his

other visitors and said: 'What is the use of all that nonsense?--that

will do my belly no good.' He then turned the conversation on the

Whanganui races, where one of his guests had been running a horse."

Such an incident, if true, leaves behind it the impression that the

chief was shrewd enough to observe that the Christian faith had taken

root amongst his people, and conventional enough to adopt it for

fashion's sake, without realising any real spiritual change. But we

will not attempt to pass judgment upon one who was at so manifest a

disadvantage in grasping the mysteries of a faith which centuries of

science and learning have left still obscure to many more fortunately

circumstanced. But, whatever the chief's spiritual condition may have

been, it was not vouchsafed to him to witness the completion of his

building scheme. He had long passed man's allotted span, and life's

last stage was closing in upon him. He was in his eighty-first year,

and was stricken with an internal complaint, the precise nature of

which has not been ascertained, but which necessitated his taking much

rest. His last days were therefore spent in enforced inactivity, and,

while practically an invalid, his greatest delight was to recount to

those capable of appreciating his narrative the stories of his early

campaigns. The late Bishop Hadfield was especially favoured in this

respect; and when he grew weary of the company of his own people (of

whose intellectuality he had so small an opinion that he once remarked

that they could talk of nothing better than dogs and pigs), he would

send for the missionary, and regale him with stories of the past, told

with a native force which aroused astonishment and admiration in the

mind of his hearer. His descriptions of former fights were generally

dramatic, frequently graphic, and always eloquent, for his vocabulary

was rich in words and phrases which were far beyond the linguistic

capacity of the natives by whom he was surrounded. It is to be

regretted that these recitals have perished with the good Bishop.

Until quite late in his life a vivid impression of them remained in

his memory, and his constant readiness to refer to them confirms the

claim that Te Rauparaha was a man of superior intellect, in so far as

that term may be applied to a Maori of his day.

Towards the end of November, 1849, the complaint from which he was

suffering begun to assume a more malignant form. On the 24th of that

month he received a last visit from Rangihaeata, and bade farewell to

his erstwhile comrade in arms. Three days later he was dead; the event

was consummated for which Colonel Wakefield so devoutly wished when,

ten years before, he wrote: "It will be a most fortunate thing for any

settlement formed hereabouts when he dies, for with his life only will

end his mischievous scheming and insatiable cupidity." Had Te

Rauparaha been asked to pen his opinion of the promoters of the New

Zealand Company, he might have couched his judgment in much the same

terms. But now that he was dead there was no need, and little desire,

to keep open the floodgates of vituperation, and there were many who

in his lifetime could find no kindly thought for him, but were willing

to bury the bitterness of racial misunderstanding in the grave wherein

the chief was so soon to be laid.

The news that Te Rauparaha was dead spread like a prairie fire, and

natives from all parts of both islands flocked to Otaki to swell the

weeping multitude who wailed around the bier of the dead chief. So

altered, however, had the times become, that, though there was a

feast, there was little _tangi_ of the barbarous sort, for his son

Tamahana, who was sincere and consistent in his emulation of European

methods,[195] discouraged in the native people, as far as possible,

the indulgence in their time-honoured mourning customs, and, according

to a contemporary authority, the whole proceedings were conducted "in

a most decorous manner." The interment took place on 3rd December, the

last resting-place being a spot chosen by his friend Rangihaeata,

within the church enclosure, and immediately in front of the unfinished

building. A procession of fifteen hundred people followed the body to

the grave, where the beautiful burial service of the Anglican Church

was read by Mr. Ronaldson, the native teacher from Whanganui. The

coffin, made in the usual manner, was covered with black cloth, and

the final chapter in the life of this remarkable man was written on

the brass plate which adorned the casket:--

KO TE RAUPARAHA I MATE I TE

27 O NOWEMA 1849

[Te Rauparaha died on November 27, 1849.]

[173] Heke had asked the pertinent question, "Is Rauparaha to have all

the credit of killing the _pakeha_?"

[174] "From what I know of the young lieutenant, I have no doubt he

laid about him vigorously. Even had burly Rangihaeata confronted him,

I should not have feared the result" (_Mundy_).

[175] It was quite the orthodox thing for natives on opposite sides to

hold intercourse with each other during war, and Rauparaha, having

many relations engaged with Rangihaeata, would, in accordance with

this custom, keep up a certain connection with them, and they with

him. This, not being understood by the British authorities, was

probably mistaken for treachery.

[176] Afterwards McKillop Pasha, an Admiral of the Khedive of Egypt.

[177] Grey, in his despatch to the Secretary for the Colonies,

describing the seizure of Te Rauparaha, states that a "considerable

quantity of arms and ammunition belonging to the disaffected portion

of the Ngati-Toa tribe" was also seized, though he makes no attempt to

explain what steps were taken under the exciting circumstances to

ascertain who the precise owners were.

[178] On the voyage to Wellington the prisoners were quartered in the

workshop above the boilers. During the night a great disturbance was

heard in this direction, and, on an examination being made, it was

found that the room was full of steam. One of the boilers had sprung a

leak, but the natives imagined that their vapour bath was an ingenious

contrivance to compass their death.

[179] Mr. Percy Smith is my authority for saying that Rangihaeata did

not actually compose this lament, as is generally supposed, but merely

adapted it from a very old original.

[180] In October, 1850, Dr. Dorsett, as Chairman of the Settlers'

Constitutional Society, in a letter addressed to Earl Grey, complained

of the inadequacy of Te Rauparaha's punishment. Sir George Grey

replied by quoting two laments, of which this was one, "to show the

light in which the natives regarded the punishment inflicted on him."

[181] Pohi was one of the inferior chiefs arrested with Te Rauparaha

and afterwards released. Subsequently, Grey discovered that this man

was supposed to possess "important information."

[182] For the passive attitude adopted by many of the Ngati-Toa people

some credit must be given to Te Rauparaha, who had already advised his

son to go to the tribes and tell them to remain in peace. "I returned

on shore," says Tamahana, "and saw Ngati-Toa and Rawhiri Puaha. We

told them the words of Rauparaha respecting that which is good and

living in peace. Two hundred Ngati-Raukawa came to Otaki. Rangihaeata

wished to destroy Wellington and kill the _pakehas_ as satisfaction. I

told them the words of Te Rauparaha, that they must put away foolish

thoughts, live in peace, and cast away bad desires. They consented."

[183] Ensign Blackburn, who was a fine officer and a great favourite

with the troops, was shot by a native secreted in a tree, and he in

turn was almost immediately brought down by an artilleryman.

[184] Under the chilling atmosphere of bleak winter the enthusiasm of

our native allies soon began to cool and the vigour of their pursuit

to slacken. Power, in his _Sketches in New Zealand_, gives an

amusing account of a big _korero_ held at Otaki to decide whether

or not they would continue the chase, in which he says: "Rangihaeata's

sister was present and addressed the meeting in favour of her absent

brother, making at the same time some very unparliamentary remarks on

the aggressions of the _pakehas_ and the want of pluck of the

Maoris in not resisting them, as her illustrious brother was doing. An

old chief requested her to resume her seat, informing her at the same

time that she was the silly sister of a sillier brother. He then put

it to the meeting whether pigs and potatoes, warm fires and plenty of

tobacco, were not better things than leaden bullets, edges of

tomahawks, snow, rain, and empty bellies? All the former, he distinctly

stated, were to be enjoyed on the plain; the latter they had had

plentiful experience of in the mountains, and was it to be expected

that they--and he confidently relied upon the good sense of the

meeting--could be such fools as to hesitate for a moment? The applause

of the old man's rhetoric was unanimous, and it received no slight

help from the timely appearance of a procession bearing the materials

for a week's feasting."

[185] Lieutenant McKillop, writing on this point, says: "We never had

any such decided advantage over him in our various skirmishes with his

tribe as to dishearten him, and had we been unassisted by friendly

Maoris I have no doubt he would have held out and carried his point."

[186] While the _Calliope_ was lying at Wellington, Te Rauparaha

was visited by his son Tamahana, who has left it on record that, in

that trying moment of his life, his father displayed a spirit of calm

forgiveness towards those who had so treacherously deprived him of his

liberty. His advice was: "Son, go to your tribes and tell them to

remain in peace. Do not pay for my seizure with evil, only with that

which is good. You must love the Europeans. There was no just cause

for my having been arrested by Governor Grey. I have not murdered any

Europeans, but I was arrested through the lies of the people. If I had

been taken prisoner in battle, it would have been well, but I was

unjustly taken."

[187] In his _Travels in New Zealand_, Crawford remarks: "During

the march to Pahautanui, a Maori named Martin Luther (Wareaitu) was

taken prisoner and was some months afterwards tried by court martial

and hanged. I cannot help thinking that this was a blunder." Dr.

Thomson is even more emphatic, and declares that "Luther's death is a

disgrace to Governor Grey's administration."

[188] Visitors to modern Otaki cannot fail to notice a tall pole

erected near the roadside opposite the church. The totara tree out of

which the pole was hewn was brought there at the outbreak of the Maori

war. It was intended as a flagstaff, but Mr. Hadfield persuaded the

Maoris to remain perfectly neutral and make no demonstration one way

or the other. The tree lay for many years on the common until the Rev.

Mr. McWilliam induced the Maoris to shape the tree into a tapering

obelisk 40 feet high, with the dates 1840 (the year when Christianity

was established at Otaki) to 1880 (the year the obelisk was erected)

going spirally round it from bottom to top, and so it became a

memorial of the English Church Mission at Otaki. It was first erected

in the middle of the common, but in 1890, that is, the fiftieth year

of the mission, it was moved into the corner opposite the church gate.

It is called by the Maoris the "Jubilee." There was a great gathering

of Maoris on that occasion, and fifty of them were clad in white and

took part in the ceremony. The chief speaker was Kereopa Tukumaru, an

old chief from Kereru, who had been one of the first converts to

Christianity, and was now able to tell what great things the religion

of Christianity had done for the Maoris. "This man," says Mr.

McWilliam, "was the most consistent Christian I have ever had the

privilege of knowing." He was most industrious, but when not working

he was reading his Bible. He knew nearly the whole of it by heart. His

grave may be seen near the Kereru railway station on a small natural

mound. It is an oblong raised vault, built of concrete, with a

beautiful white marble angel standing over one end.

[189] Colonel Mundy mentions that a remarkably plausible report was

circulating in Wellington at this time, to the effect that

Rangihaeata--in order to prove himself a convert to civilisation--had

signified his intention to kill and eat the aforesaid murderer, and

then "go into the best society."

[190] As illustrating Rangihaeata's intolerance of Europeans,

Crawford, in his _Travels in New Zealand_, mentions that when he

visited Fraser's whaling station on Mana in 1839, he saw sitting in

the corner of the room a large Maori wrapped in his mat. "He listened

to the conversation, but said nothing. At last, as if displeased, he

uttered a hideous and prolonged grunt, and rose to his feet: I was

struck with his height and imposing, although savage, appearance--he

grunted again and walked out of the room without speaking. This was

Rangihaeata, the great follower or coadjutor of Te Rauparaha--the Ajax

of his tribe, as the other was the Ulysses."

[191] As illustrating the feeling of the time, we may mention that

very great indignation was expressed in Wellington because Bishop

Selwyn had taken Te Rauparaha to the house of the Rev. Mr. Cole, a

clergyman of Wellington, to stay there during a visit to the city.

Major Richmond, the Superintendent, and the Sub-Protector, Mr.

Forsaith, had gone to Porirua and provided for his safe escort to

Wellington. The Bishop had publicly refused to shake hands with

Rangihaeata, showing to the natives his horror of the massacre at the

Wairau on every occasion. But he refused to recognise Te Rauparaha as

responsible for it, and did no more than his clear duty in providing

for his safety on this occasion. The outcry raised against him was

bitter, but was quietly ignored by him (_Brett's "Early History of

New Zealand"_).

[192] The church, which is a noble specimen of native architecture,

was built under the supervision of Archdeacon Hadfield and Rev. H.

Williams. It was commenced in 1849 and opened in 1851. Its length is

80 feet, its breadth 36 feet, and its height 40 feet. The ridge-pole

is hewn out of a solid totara tree, 86 feet long.

[193] "Te Rauparaha was not baptized, and, although his son wished the

burial service of the Church to be used at his funeral, the minister

did not feel himself justified in doing so; however, a lay member of

the Church Missionary Society from Whanganui, opportunely passing

through the place, read the service over him, and thus terminated the

eventful life of the New Zealand warrior" (_Rev. Richard

Taylor_).

[194] The late Sir William Fox in his _Six Colonies of New

Zealand_.

[195] In 1868, Tamihana te Rauparaha and his wife Ruta (Ruth) lived by

themselves about half-way between Otaki and Waikanae on his sheep run,

but he now and again came to his town house in Otaki and stayed a few

weeks. He was a fine, handsome man, tall and stout, but active and

mentally energetic. He always dressed well, and in cleanliness and

neatness was a thorough English gentleman. He had been home to England

and presented to the Queen. He never forgot what he saw there, and he

wished to be considered an English gentleman. For that reason he lost

influence with his tribe. He held aloof from _tangis_ and other

Maori feasts, but was most hospitable and generous to Europeans. His

wife was a most ladylike and charming woman. She was not so well

educated as Tamihana, but for all that she had the manners and taste

of an English lady. She died several years before him, and he erected

a small marble stone over her grave; but when he died, and was laid by

her side, no monument of any kind was erected to his memory; the

cast-iron fence, which had been broken accidentally, was not even

repaired. The Maoris did not care much for him, because he was too

civilised and _pakeha_-like for them, so they made no general

mourning at his death. In his youth, Tamihana te Rauparaha and Matene

te Whiwhi had journeyed all the way to the Bay of Islands to beg for a

missionary, and in response to their request Mr. Hadfield (who was

afterwards Bishop of Wellington and Primate) came back with them to

Otaki, and lived amongst them and taught them Christianity for thirty

years.

The graves of Tamihana te Rauparaha and his wife are enclosed with an

iron railing. On the tombstone of the wife is the inscription: "_Te

ohatanga tenei mo Ruta te Rauparaha wahine O Tamihana te Rauparaha, i

mate ki Otaki i te 10 o nga ra o Hurae, 1870._"