Kitabı oku: «An Old New Zealander; or, Te Rauparaha, the Napoleon of the South.», sayfa 22

But there was also that in him which made him hunger for conquest just as keenly as he desired to evade being conquered; and if the discovery of an escape from his dilemma at Kawhia was accidental, he was, as a rule, careful to leave nothing to accident in the execution of his fully matured plans. The migration from Kawhia to Kapiti was a bold and daring conception, fraught as it was with difficulties of transport, peril to old and young, and, more than all, with the certainty that every inch of the way would have to be either bargained for or fought for. Yet it is the manner in which the idea was executed rather than the idea itself that calls for our admiration. It was characterised by wise planning, discreet forethought, accurate calculation, clever diplomacy, skilful strategy; and, when all else failed, there were the strong right arm and the courageous heart to compel compliance, if compulsion were needed. That Te Rauparaha was blessed with abundant confidence in his own prowess is demonstrated by the lightheartedness with which he assumed the rank and responsibilities of the dying Hape Tuarangi; and it was just this spirit of cheerful self-sufficiency which inspired others with that unbounded trust and confidence in him, which enabled him to lead his people away from the ties of their ancestral home, and induce them to share with him the dangers and uncertainty of a great enterprise. It is at least a tribute to Te Rauparaha's talents as a leader that, so long as the Maori remained unchanged by European influences, he continued to receive the loyal support and unfailing allegiance of his people. He was always popular with the masses, otherwise he could not have accomplished a tithe of what he did. No criticism of Te Rauparaha is sound which represents him as wholly bad. There is in human nature a rough method of arriving at what is right; and no public, whether savage or civilised, will for long tolerate, much less venerate, a leader whose only policy is his own aggrandisement.

The undisputed position which Te Rauparaha enjoyed in the affections of his own people, the fidelity with which they followed him, till the mana of the chief was superseded by the ascendancy of the pakeha, afford proof that they, at all events, were able to discern some meritorious qualities in him, even though not endowed with the higher ethical vision of a modern critic. It has been suggested that, in after years, when dissensions arose amongst the tribes which acknowledged his chieftainship, the revolt was due to shattered confidence, this shaken faith being traceable to a belief that he was treacherously plotting with Ngati-Raukawa to compass the expulsion of Ngati-Awa from Waikanae. But it must not be forgotten that, by this period, the advent of the pakeha had created a new atmosphere around the Maori, and the policy of the missionary in extolling the convert to the disparagement of the chief had, in a measure, destroyed the power of the people's leaders. And, in the general decline of hereditary authority, Te Rauparaha's mana had suffered with the rest. It had therefore become more difficult – and it may have been impossible – for him to quell internecine strife by the peremptory means which he would have employed in the days of his absolute supremacy.

No candid review of the chief's career can, however, fail to take cognisance of the fact that his methods frequently gave rise to suspicions of deepest treachery, the doubtful honour of these proceedings having long since passed into song and proverb. In common with all successful leaders, he possessed the virtue of keeping his own counsel. He made his plans, nursed them in his own mind, and, in the fullness of time, gave his orders accordingly – a secretive habit which gave origin to the saying: "No one knew his thoughts, whether they were good or evil." This reticence has, by some writers, been given an interpretation which does not rightly belong to it: because he was reserved, therefore he was treacherous. Such a deduction does not necessarily sum up the whole position. But, even when this has been admitted, there still remains the imputation of treachery, left by the derisive songs and proverbs, to be either admitted or combated. The unblushing apologist for Te Rauparaha might conceivably argue that these chants were but the creation of prejudiced or malignant minds; but the charges of deception, amounting to treachery, are too frequently reiterated to be rejected as altogether groundless. Barbarous though the Maori was, he had a code of honour which could not be lightly violated; and when a member of a tribe was killed, it was not the fact that he was dead which agitated his friends, but the circumstances of his dying. "Was his death tika?²⁰¹ Had it been compassed in fair fight? Or was it kohuru?"²⁰² These were questions always demanding a satisfactory answer, for the laws governing life and death were well defined. And, judged by these laws, it is impossible to hold Te Rauparaha blameless of the crime of treachery. The killing of the Rangitane chief, Toki-poto, the capture of the Hotu-iti pa, the seizure of Tamaiharanui, and possibly many another similar deed not so specifically recorded, were all acts of treachery, and serve to dim the lustre of his larger achievements conducted strictly in accordance with Maori military law. Nevertheless, it is possible that there has been much exaggeration in relation to this phase of the chief's character. When his troubles with the New Zealand Company began to develop, and more particularly after the Wairau massacre, it became the mission of a section of the European community to represent him as the incarnation of all that was cruel, treacherous, and unspeakably wicked. In this connection it becomes especially dangerous to accept unreservedly the judgment of the Wakefields, who were early prejudiced against him by his opposition to their colonising methods, and were afterwards deeply embittered towards him by the death of their relative at the Wairau. Impartiality under such circumstances is almost too much to expect; and it is only just to Te Rauparaha to say that they availed themselves fully of their special opportunities for disseminating a prejudice against him, so that a view so long uncontradicted can hardly now be eradicated.

In no respect has the reputation of Te Rauparaha suffered more from bitter hostility than in connection with the Wairau massacre. And we cannot wonder; for at the time of its occurrence he had arrayed against him a galaxy of literary talent, such as the Colony has never seen since, and day by day these wielders of facile pens fed with scholarly vituperation the flames of racial animosity, which were already burning at white heat. They spoke of murder; they clamoured for revenge; and all who failed to see as they saw were exposed to the darts of their merciless sarcasm. But, with the softening influence of time, men's hearts have mellowed, stormy passions have subsided, and we of this day are able to review the facts with more sober judgment than was possible to those who lived and wrote in the heated atmosphere of the time. In this unhappy quarrel it must now be accepted as an established fact that the New Zealand Company were the aggressors. The Wairau Valley may, or may not, have been included in their original purchases; but Captain Wakefield knew that this point was being contested by the natives. He knew further that the dispute had been by them referred to Mr. Spain, and therefore no reasonable excuse can be advanced for his attempt to seize the valley while its title was still subject to judicial investigation. Te Rauparaha's attitude in the early stages of the trouble amounted to no more than a temperate protest. He personally interviewed Captain Wakefield at Nelson; he was as conciliatory in requesting the surveyors to leave the field as he was decided that they must go; he calmed Rangihaeata's violence at the conference with Mr. Tuckett; and, as Mr. Spain's final decision was fatal to the Company's claim, the charge of arson preferred against him dwindles into a legal fiction. The conciliatory tone thus manifested by the chief was equally marked in the more acute stage, which arose at Tua Marina. While the magistrate fumed and raged, the chief stood perfectly calm. He more than once begged that time should be taken to talk over the case; but the mad impetuosity of Thompson would brook no delay in determining a cause the merits of which he, the judge, had already prejudged in his own mind. For the precipitation of the conflict which followed, who shall say that the fault was Te Rauparaha's? It was neither his hand nor his command which put the brand to the bush, nor does it appear that it was ever within his power to control the outburst of human passion which flamed up upon the firing of the first shot. What part he took in the fight is uncertain. It has never been suggested that he bore arms, and therefore we may assume that he was an excited spectator, rather than an active participant in the mêlée. That he was early on the brow of the hill, after the retreat had ceased, would appear to be beyond doubt; but his first act on reaching the Europeans was to shake hands with them, a proceeding which seemed to imply that, even after all that had passed, his friendship had not been irretrievably lost. Indeed, there is nothing to lead us to suppose that he harboured any thoughts of retaliation, until Rangihaeata violently demanded utu for the death of Te Rongo.

This demand placed Te Rauparaha in a serious dilemma. Against any feeling of friendship for the Europeans which may still have lingered in his heart, he had now to set a claim which was wholly in accord with native custom; a right, in fact, which had been recognised by his forefathers for more centuries than we can with certainty name; a feature of Maori justice supported by ages of precedent, and which, imbibed from infancy, had become a part of his nature. This was undoubtedly the crisis of the tragedy. Had Te Rauparaha decided against Rangihaeata, there would have been no massacre; but where his detractors are unfair to him is in appearing to expect that he should have suddenly risen superior to his Maori nature, and, in place of allowing his actions to be governed by Maori law, that he – a heathen – should have viewed the attempt to seize his land and his person, together with the death of Te Rongo, in the forgiving spirit of a Christian. No Ethiop was ever asked to change his skin more rapidly; and if Te Rauparaha failed in the performance of the miracle, he only failed when success was morally impossible to him. In the massacre itself he had no share; and, beyond the fact that, under intense natural excitement, he gave a tacit consent to Rangihaeata's deed, he appears to have stood outside it.

Of his relations with the whalers, accounts vary. If we accept the Wakefield view, we must believe that by them he was heartily detested and distrusted. That he was acquisitive to the point of aggression is possible; that he was often overbearing towards them may be equally true, for these are characteristics frequently seen in the powerful savage; but there are also instances recorded in which he showed a ready generosity and a strict sense of justice towards the whaling community.

"The whalers and traders, who had the best opportunity of being intimately acquainted with him, and that, too, at a time when his power to injure was greatest, invariably spoke of him as ever having been the white man's friend. He always placed the best he had before them, and in no instance have I heard of his doing any one of them an injury. Speaking of him to an old whaler, he said emphatically that Te Rauparaha never let the white man who needed want anything he could give, whether food or clothing; in fact, his natural sagacity told him that it was his interest to make common cause with the Europeans, for it was through them that he acquired the sinews of war, guns, powder, and shot, and everything else that he required."²⁰³

The impartiality with which he held the balance between the two races may be gathered from the following incident: A whaleboat had left Waikanae to proceed to Kapiti, the crew taking with them a native, who sat in the bow. On the journey over the Maori managed to secrete beneath his mat the small hatchet which the whalers used to cut the line, and was quietly walking off with it when the boat reached the island. Before he had gone many steps one of the crew whispered to the headsman what had happened, whereupon that worthy picked up the harpoon and drove it straight through the Maori's back, killing him on the spot. The native population was at once thrown into a state of uproar and fury, threatening dire vengeance upon the whalers, but Te Rauparaha quelled the disturbance in an instant, and, after inquiring into its cause, walked away, declaring that the native had only met with his deserts.

Towards his native enemies Te Rauparaha was unquestionably merciless and cruel, though not more so, perhaps, than was sanctioned by the spirit of the times in which he lived. Yet that he was not wholly incapable of admiration for a worthy opponent is shown by his seeking out and sparing Te Ata o Tu, the Ngai-Tahu warrior, who fought so bravely against him at Kaiapoi. Even in this case there are persons who affect to believe that self-interest rather than chivalry may have been the moving impulse in his conduct, for he possibly counted upon so skilful a fighter being invaluable to him in his northern troubles. But surely we can afford to be magnanimous enough to concede to so fine an example of generosity a less mercenary motive?²⁰⁴ Though relentless to a degree towards those tribes who came between him and his ambitions, it must always be remembered that his ruthlessness is not to be judged from the Christian standpoint. His enormities, which were neither few nor small, were those of a savage, born and bred in an atmosphere into which no spirit of Divine charity had ever entered. Compared with the excesses practised in civilised warfare by such champions of the Cross as Cortés and the Duke of Alva, his deeds of darkness become less repugnant, if not altogether pardonable.

The attitude which he adopted towards the European was in exact opposition to that assumed by Te Rangihaeata. He welcomed rather than resented the coming of the white man, although he found reason to protest against the methods employed by the New Zealand Company in acquiring land on which to settle them. Nor in this respect can it be said that his objections were captious or ill-founded; in fact, with the exception of the Hutt dispute, the Commissioner's decisions were invariably a vindication of his contentions. Some doubt has necessarily been cast upon his loyalty to the Government (which he accepted when he signed the Treaty of Waitangi), by virtue of the fact that he was seized and held captive because of his supposed infidelity. There are those with whom it is only necessary to accuse in order to condemn. In this case accusation carried condemnation with it, but condemnation without proof of guilt is injustice. Whatever the measure of Te Rauparaha's duplicity may have been, the Governor conspicuously failed to do more than suspect him, and as conspicuously failed to bring the chief face to face with his accusers. It was never proved, nor was any attempt ever made to prove before a court of competent jurisdiction, that Te Rauparaha had held communication with the enemy. Even if he had so communicated, an easy explanation might have been found in the native practice, under which individuals in opposing forces frequently visited each other during the progress of hostilities. Te Rauparaha had many friends with the rebels, and it would appear perfectly natural to him to hold friendly correspondence with them, whilst himself maintaining an attitude of strict neutrality. Considering the contemptuous disregard which many British officials displayed towards rites and customs held sacred by the Maori, it is not to be expected that they would trouble to understand, or try to appreciate, this subtlety in the native character. And so, what was to the Maori a well-established and common custom, was by them translated into treachery, for which Te Rauparaha was made captive in a manner which leaves us but little right to talk of open and honourable tactics.

His conduct while a captive on board the Calliope appears to have been exemplary enough, and he succeeded in impressing those with whom he came into contact by his quick perception, particularly of anything meant to turn him into ridicule, of which he was most sensitive. He frequently became much excited and very violent, and at other times, when talking of his misfortunes, he would become deeply moved, and the tears would run down his wrinkled cheeks. It is recorded that he was very grateful for any kindness shown him; and when Lieutenant Thorpe left the ship to return to England he expressed the most intense sorrow, crying the whole day, and repeating the officer's name in piteous accents. This, it was noted, was not merely a temporary affection. When, a year later, the Calliope was leaving the New Zealand station, he sent his favourite a very handsome mat, begging the officer by whom it was sent to tell Lieutenant Thorpe how glad he would be to see his face once more, and how well he would treat him now that he was free. Similarly, when Lieutenant McKillop was proceeding home, Te Rauparaha took him aside and entreated him to go, on reaching England, and convey to Queen Victoria his regard for her and express his keen desire to see her, only his great age and the length of the voyage standing between him and the consummation of that desire. "He hoped, however, she would believe that he would always be a great and true friend of hers, and use all his influence with his countrymen to make them treat her subjects well, and that, when he became free again, there would be no doubt as to his loyalty, as he would himself, old as he was, be the first to engage in a war against any who should offend her or the Governor, of whom he always spoke with the greatest respect." During his captivity the news of the outbreak of the war in the Sutlej reached the Colony, and, noticing the excitement on board the Calliope, he asked to be informed of the contents of the papers giving details of the battles. In this subject he maintained the liveliest interest; and, when he had sufficiently grasped the details, he was perceptibly impressed by the magnitude of the armies engaged and the tremendous resources of the Empire, about which he, in common with all natives, had been distinctly incredulous. That his release was marked by no exhibition of resentment is at least something to his credit, and the ease with which he afterwards adapted himself to the strangely altered order of things is proof that his nature was capable of absorbing higher ideals than are taught in savage philosophy, although it is doubtful if he ever reached the purer heights attained by a clear conception of the beatitudes of the Christian religion.

In the life of Te Rauparaha there is much that is revolting and incapable of palliation. But, always remembering his savage environment, we must concede to him the possession of qualities which, under more enlightened circumstances, would have contributed as fruitfully to the uplifting of mankind as they did to its destruction. His superiority over his fellows was mental rather than physical; his success lay in his intellectual alertness, his originality, strategic foresight, and executive capacity. He was probably a better diplomat than he was a general, but he had sufficient of the military instinct to make him a conqueror. And if, in the execution of his conquests, the primary object of which was to find a safe home for his people, the weaker tribes went down, history was but repeating amongst the Maoris in New Zealand the story which animate nature is always and everywhere proclaiming, and which, in the cold language of the philosophers, is called "the survival of the fittest."

LIST OF TE RAUPARAHA'S WIVES AND CHILDREN

MAP OF NEW ZEALAND

Shewing routes taken by Te Rauparaha and Te Puoho in their various raids