An Old New Zealander; or, Te Rauparaha, the Napoleon of the South.

by Thomas Lindsay Buick

Te Rangihaeata survived his uncle by seven years, living during this time quietly at Poroutawhao. Though ceasing his violent opposition to the occupation of the land by the settlers, he still clung to his refusal to traffic in the native estate, either with individuals or with the Government. Almost immediately after the close of the war, Lieutenant-Governor Eyre and the Rev. Richard Taylor penetrated through the bush and swamps which surrounded Poroutawhao, and met the chief in the very heart of his stronghold. He was then, says Mr. Taylor, an old man with a head as white as the top of Tongariro, and a spirit somewhat resembling that active volcano, always fuming. His white hair strongly contrasted with his bronzed features and highly tattooed countenance. The missionary thus describes the retreat in which they found him, and the reception they met with:—

"A long, low, narrow strip of land, running through deep swamp, led to his retreat; the name of the place aptly describes it, being a cork, or stoppage, to war, and few would have liked to draw it out. The pa was on a mound, the only one in the vicinity, and strongly fortified in the native style, with thick, lofty posts deeply sunk in the ground, and bound together with a huahua, or connecting pole, running round at a height of about ten feet. Inside the outer fence there was another, behind which the defenders could post themselves, and take aim through the outer one. The pa was divided into a number of small courts, each equally well defended, and connected by very narrow passages. We found the chief with his wives and his head men assembled in the chief court, or marae, sitting on mats in front of his house. Fresh fern was strewed on the ground, and new mats laid on it for us; we were received with great respect, and welcomed with a loud haeremai: we sat down on the chief's right hand, and conversed on various subjects, until we were invited to enter a neighbouring house, where no one followed us, except a neatly dressed and good-looking lady, who was appointed to wait upon us according to Maori etiquette: there was a kind of table formed of two boxes, one placed on the other, with a new red blanket placed over it, and a form similarly covered in regal style. On the table was placed a dish of good fresh-baked cakes, another containing sugar, a knife, spoon, and two basins, one nearly allied to a wash-hand basin in size. The lady then brought a tea-kettle, and filled our cups with an infusion of mint, which she called tea. The wash-hand basin was, of course, placed before the representative of Majesty, who viewed with dismay its enormous capacity, which, being given him from respect, he could not well avoid draining to the bottom. After enjoying the Governor's perplexity, when the lady left the room, I emptied the contents of our bowls into a calabash, from which our natives were drinking; our repast being ended, we returned to the chief and sat by his side. The Governor requested me to ask the chief to sell some land, which I respectfully declined doing. He then attempted to do so himself: at first he was not understood, but when the chief comprehended what he meant, he gave a savage look of defiance, thrusting out his tongue and rolling about his eyes in such a way, that his Excellency, who had never seen such a display before, stared in amazement, and evidently felt anything but at ease. It need not be said that the land negotiations were speedily terminated, and we were soon threading our way back along Rangihaeata's swamp-girt road."

Not less interesting was the experience of Lord Charles Butler and Mr. Carnegie, two officers of the Calliope, who, upon the cessation of hostilities, conceived the adventurous idea of visiting the chief in his lair at Poroutawhao. Starting from Wellington, accompanied by Lieutenant Servantes of the 96th, who during the war had acted as interpreter with the Government troops, and Tamahana Te Rauparaha, they experienced considerable difficulty in pushing their way across the country to the place of Rangihaeata's retreat. By dint of perseverance they at length reached the borders of the swamp surrounding the small hillock on which the pa was built, and, meeting some of the natives there, they sent them on to the chief to ascertain if he would be prepared to receive them. A messenger soon returned to say that Lord Charles and Tamahana might come on, but that if Ewie (Lieutenant Servantes) attempted to do so, he would be shot. Rangihaeata had persuaded himself that Servantes had been acting the spy in the late proceedings against him. This impression, which was quite erroneous, doubtless arose from the fact that this officer had been a great deal in the company of the natives before the outbreak of hostilities, that he was thoroughly conversant with their language, customs, and haunts, and consequently was frequently acting in conjunction with the native allies when no other Europeans were near. There being no opportunity to offer explanations which might remove the chief's prejudice, Servantes deemed it prudent to respect Rangihaeata's mandate, and remained where he was, the others proceeding to the pa. As they approached, sounds and evidences of excitement, which they were at a loss to understand, greeted them, and as they drew nearer, several armed natives came out of the pa, pointing their muskets at Mr. Carnegie, at the same time abusing him with a tornado of picturesque native epithets. This hostile demonstration arose from the fact that they had mistaken the naval officer for Servantes; but, when the guides had silenced the clamour sufficiently to obtain a hearing, the necessary explanations were made, and the party was led into the pa. They found Rangihaeata leaning against his whare, and taking aim at the gateway with his gun, having fully determined to end the days of the supposed spy if he dared to enter the pa. The introductions were, however, satisfactory, and, putting away his musket, he gave his hand to his guests, whereupon his tribe likewise disarmed themselves, and prepared to extend hospitality to the visitors. Lord Charles opened the proceedings diplomatically, by presenting Rangihaeata with a few pounds of tobacco and a red blanket; and, as soon as the chief had filled his pipe with the fragrant weed, and adjusted the blanket to his brawny shoulders, he sat down and entered into a most amiable conversation with the pakehas, for whose refreshment he took care that food should be brought. He plied his visitors with many questions concerning Te Rauparaha and those natives who were prisoners with him, and closely inquired of those Europeans with whose names he was acquainted, making special reference to Lieutenant McKillop, of whose conduct in the war he had formed an excellent opinion. He was also exceedingly complimentary to Lord Charles, of whom he said he had received very flattering reports, but he was equally regretful of the conduct of his own people in deserting his standard, and spoke bitterly of his experiences since he had abandoned his pa at Porirua. These misfortunes did not, however, detract in the least from his hospitality to his visitors. He begged them to remain with him until next day, in order that he might have the opportunity of killing a pig and regaling them with due splendour on the morrow. This kind invitation they modestly declined, and, after explaining that their visit was of purely a private nature, and not one which would warrant them in carrying back any message to the authorities, they took their leave of the chief, whom they have described as being particularly dirty, but a fine handsome man.

By his winning ways and the generous use of presents, Governor Grey several times induced Rangihaeata to leave his retreat at Poroutawhao for the purpose of holding conferences with him; and when he believed that he had sufficiently ingratiated himself into the good opinion of the chief, he ventured to propose the sale to the Government of the Waikanae district. "It would have been the subject for an artist," says one writer, "to picture the indignant look of the chief as he flatly and rudely refused, telling the Governor to be content with what he had already got. 'You have had Porirua, Ahuriri, Wairarapa, Whanganui, Rangitikei, and the whole of the Middle Island given up to you, and still you are not content. We are driven up into a corner, and yet you covet that also.'" But, though his overtures were thus indignantly spurned and rejected, the mana of the Governor did not suffer any diminution in the estimation of the chief, who to the end of his days continued to regard Grey with that chivalrous respect which is extended by one warrior to another whom he deems to be worthy of his steel.

In 1856, while still residing at Poroutawhao, Rangihaeata was stricken with measles in a particularly malignant form, but, with his characteristic recklessness of consequences, he refused to take the ordinary precautions to facilitate his recovery. Though still in a high state of fever, he decided to visit Otaki, and ordered his groom to drive him thither. When passing the Waikawa River, he thought to abate the fever by taking a cold bath; and, stopping the buggy, he plunged into the river, from which he emerged with the hand of death upon him. He was taken on to Otaki, where his malady rapidly increased, and two days afterwards he passed away. His body was taken back, at the head of an enormous procession, to Poroutawhao, where he was buried beside his wife, the tangi in his case being marked by all the barbarous features of native mourning, interspersed with not a few of the prevailing European vices.

When in the prime of life, Rangihaeata stood over six feet in height, a handsome man, magnificently built. Like his more notorious uncle, he too had features of aquiline mould, lit up by a pair of piercing black eyes, which instantly flashed out their resentment on any real or fancied insult. He was exceedingly jealous of his mana, and quick to blaze into a fit of indignation at any word or act which he might construe to be a reflection upon his authority as a chief. That authority he frequently asserted by levying toll upon the settlers and whalers, but never in any case from pure cupidity, or where he did not, by Maori law, have some good and valid claim to utu. Against these extortions, as they were pleased to regard them, the whalers appealed to such authority[196] as they could find in the islands; and when they were unable to obtain what they deemed to be justice in that quarter, they took the law into their own hands, and tried to rid themselves of their tormentor by means of the poison-cup. Frequent attempts were made to poison him at the whaling stations; and we are credibly informed that, on one occasion, he was induced to swallow a pint of raw rum heavily drugged with arsenic. But, in their excess of zeal to compass the chief's death, they had been led to apply too great a quantity of poison, and instead of its acting as they anticipated, it merely acted as an emetic. If this statement be well-grounded, or if the whalers were as Major Bunbury described them to be, when he visited Mana in order to procure Rangihaeata's signature to the Treaty of Waitangi, it is not to be expected that such dissolute associates would afford the chief much light and leading in the path of rectitude.

The reckless disregard by the settlers and whalers of the sanctity of native custom was responsible for many of the misunderstandings, which they have debited against Rangihaeata for malice and mischief; while no attempt has been made to exonerate him on the ground that he probably saw the act only from the point of view of his native origin and upbringing. He was in spirit and in the flesh a Maori, and gloried in it, openly professing a detestation for the pakeha and all that he had brought to the country. He affected a supreme contempt for the luxuries of the white man; but the weakness of human nature had blinded him to the inconsistency of which he was daily guilty in acquiring and gratifying an uncontrollable love of tobacco and rum. When under the influence of liquor he was querulous and violent; but his drinking indiscretions were generally redeemed as far as possible by the payment of ample compensation, for, savage though he was, Rangihaeata was not destitute of a liberal sense of justice.[197] This he applied to himself as rigorously as to others. When he was flying before the troops in the Horokiwi Valley, he frequently inquired if those who were hottest in pursuit were relatives of the victims of his anger at the Wairau; for to him "a life for a life" was an inexorable law, to which even he must bow, if the friends of the massacred men should overtake him. In the cause of what he believed to be the liberty of his people he did and dared much, enduring intense hardships for the maintenance of a principle, and when we charge him with harbouring criminals and refusing to deliver them over to justice, our resentment against his conduct may be mitigated by the reflection that his loyalty to these misguided friends was not so much due to a sympathy with crime, as it was a practical protest against what he believed to be their unfair treatment by the New Zealand Company. Rangihaeata stoutly resisted all attempts to convert him to the Christian faith, clinging to his heathen gods as closely as he clung to his antipathy to European settlement. His convictions on these points were deep-rooted and irrevocable; and he died as he lived, a savage, guilty of much bloodshed, yet not altogether devoid of nobility. Though he never rose to the level of Te Rauparaha as a warrior or a statesman, he was, nevertheless, a strong man amongst his people, opposed alike to the missionary and the settler, but only because he saw with a prophetic eye that the growing ascendancy of the pakeha meant the ultimate subjugation of the Maori race. Viewed from this standpoint—the only one equitable to Rangihaeata—his policy of hostility cannot be characterised as that of a stubborn rebel, but may with greater justice be regarded as the policy of a patriot.

The character and personal attributes of Te Rauparaha have been the subject of much conflicting comment, and the pen-portraits of him which have come down to us have consequently varied, in sympathy with the mood or interest of his critics. In physical appearance, all, however, agree that he was short of stature and aquiline of feature;[198] and, though at times obsequious in manner, he was equally capable of displaying an imperious dignity of deportment which marked him as a man accustomed to wield unquestioned authority. While in repose, the general expression of his countenance was placid and thoughtful; but when under the influence of excitement or agitation, a receding forehead, a furtive glance, and tusk-like teeth, revealed by a curling lip, detracted considerably from his impressive appearance. Though upwards of sixty years of age when he came into contact with the Europeans (for he claimed to have been a boy when Cook visited the country), he was still possessed of a wiry frame, and was capable of exerting great physical strength and activity, his limbs being straight, his step elastic, and his athletic vigour little diminished by age. Perhaps the most graphic description given of the chief is that penned by Mr. Jerningham Wakefield, whose cameo-like portrait may be accepted as faithful, and typical of others given by contemporary writers of equal integrity, if of inferior literary skill. Wakefield saw Te Rauparaha for the first time on the morning after the battle of Kuititanga, from which the chief had just returned; and to the excitement of that event may be attributed the agitation observable in his manner, the "wandering watchful glances" he threw around him, and the air of "evident fear and distrust," all of which contributed so forcefully to the creation of an unfavourable impression on the minds of his visitors.

"As we leaped from our boat, he advanced to meet us, and, with looks of evident fear and distrust, eagerly sought our hand to exchange the missionary greeting. During the whole of the ensuing conversation he seemed uneasy and insecure in his own opinion, and the whalers present described this behaviour as totally at variance with his usual boastfulness and arrogance. He made us a pious speech about the battle, saying that he had had no part in it, and that he was determined to give no encouragement to fighting. He agreed to come on board the next day, and departed to one of the neighbouring islands. He is rather under the average height, and very dignified and stately in his manner, although on this occasion it was much affected by the wandering and watchful glances which he frequently threw around him, as though distrustful of every one. Although at least sixty years old, he might have passed for a much younger man, being hale and stout, and his hair but slightly grizzled. His features are aquiline and striking; but an overhanging upper lip and a retreating forehead, on which his eyebrows wrinkled back when he lifted his deep-sunken eyelids and penetrating eyes, produced a fatal effect on the good prestige arising from his first appearance. The great chieftain, the man able to lead others, and habituated to wield authority, was clear at first sight; but the savage ferocity of the tiger, who would not scruple to use any means for the attainment of that power, the destructive ambition of a selfish despot, were plainly discernible on a nearer view."

Such was the man who, in or about the year of Bonaparte's death, began to play the Napoleonic rôle in New Zealand.[199] Like the Corsican conqueror, to whom his life affords an interesting historical parallel, he derived no especial advantage from hereditary lineage, for his place in the Maori peerage was only sufficient to lift him above the native plutocracy. In his rise to eminence birth played but a minor part, his path to fortune being carved out by innate enterprise, inherent courage, wonderful executive capacity, and that dash of political unscrupulousness which is seldom absent from leaders of men. From his youth up he displayed masterful qualities of mind,[200] which infallibly lift their possessor above the level of mediocrity, and when such qualities are found, whether in savage or civilised society, the measure of success attained is only limited by the degree of opportunity offered. Te Rauparaha's escapades as a boy reveal his natural bravery; his care as a young man for the generous entertainment of his visitors indicates an appreciation of the value of a good social impression; his exertions to master the art of war were sustained by a clear recognition of the fact that authority in an age of strife was impossible without military success; and his ambition to furnish his people with guns was just as clearly the result of the knowledge that military success was impossible without a weapon as efficient as that wielded by the enemy. It was not any doubt of the bravery or fidelity of his people that induced his anxiety regarding their safety at Kawhia, but a conviction that, unless they could procure muskets and fight Waikato on equal terms, their doom was sealed.