War to the Knife 45

War to the Knife 45

"But then their wars--cruel and remorseless. Think of Rauparaha and

Hongi! Think of the wholesale massacres, the cannibal feasts, the

torturings, the burnings!"

 

"No doubt. All these things were done in their unregenerate days, but

after the advent of that great and good man, Marsden, in 1830, and the

establishment of missionary stations, these horrors gradually lessened

and were in process of dying out."

 

"How do you think that can be? Were there not still tribal wars and

ruthless massacres?"

 

"A state of conquest, succeeded by retribution, could not be expected

to cease suddenly. But you may notice that as the old cannibal

chiefs and leaders died out, they in many instances recommended the

missionaries to their sons and successors. Then the Christianized

chiefs, like Waka Nene and Patuone, never relapsed into heathenism, but

fought for us and with us to the end."

 

"Certainly that showed their power to assimilate civilization, when

once introduced."

 

"Then, again, one remarkable result of the progress of religious

teaching was their abolition of slavery. The Maoris were large

slaveholders in proportion to their numbers. They made profitable use

of captives in agriculture and the laborious work of the tribe. They

pleased themselves also by feeling that they had thus degraded their

enemies. In the case of chiefs and high-born women it was held to be an

unspeakable degradation, personal and political. When one considers the

difficulty of inducing civilized nations to forego such privileges, one

is lost in amazement that a people but lately redeemed from barbarism

should act so humanely at the bidding of a handful of missionaries. It

was to forego an ancient institution which contributed so largely to

their pride and profit; for slaves were valuable alike in peace and

war."

 

Following up her researches and explorations in Maori lore, Hypatia was

daily more excited by the wondrous revelations which the library of

fact and fiction furnished. A procession of warriors, orators, poets,

priests, and patriots passed before her eager vision. Conquerors who,

like Timour and Zenghis Khan, marched from one extremity of the island

world to the other, slaying and enslaving, devouring and torturing,

extirpating the weaker tribes--a devastating wave of conquest.

 

Individuals, again, of such force of character and fixity of resolve

that they committed themselves to the hazard of strange vessels,

voyaging over unknown seas in order to reach the wondrous isles at the

world's end, whence came these strong white strangers, who bore such

rich and rare, even terrible commodities, to the children of Maui.

Among these strong-souled envoys the historic Hongi, who dissembled

successfully, while honoured in the midst of kings and courtiers,

until he procured possession of the first firearms, after which he

cast away the veneer of civilization, and stood forth a second Attila,

the remorseless destroyer of his race. Not less, in peace or war,

the warrior and diplomatist, the Napoleon of his time, the terrible

Waharoa; risen from a slave's hard fate and toilsome life through the

mistaken lenity of his captors, he exhibited his talents by devastating

the lands of neighbouring chiefs, and his gratitude by almost

obliterating the tribe which had protected him in youth and set him

free to commence his march of doom!

 

Strange to say, those remorseless despots, red with the blood of their

countrymen, and unsparing of the lives of women and children, protected

the missionaries. Scorning to change their ancient faith, they yet

threw no impediment in the way of their successors becoming Christians

in name and faith, or loyal allies of the white strangers.

 

The names of women, too, this earnest student found profusely

associated with heroic deed and resolve, such as have rendered

individuals of the sex celebrated, nay, immortal, since the dawn of

history. Parallels were there for all the legendary heroines. In the

revival of "Hero and Leander," it was the Maori maiden, and not the

lover, who dared the peril of the midnight wave, and, more fortunate

than he, survived to form a happy union and earn the immortal fame

which still illumines the name of Hinemoa--that name still celebrated,

even though the fairy terraces of Tarata charm the traveller no more,

and the magical fire-bordered lake, even Rotorua, be whelmed in a

cataclysm.

 

Mr. Summers was kept accurately informed by his native converts of the

progress of the war. He heard details of the siege of Orakau in which

the little household was more than usually interested, from the fact of

Henare Taratoa and other converts being in the enemy's ranks.

 

"Poor Henare!" said Mrs. Summers; "he was our most promising

scholar--gentle, brave, chivalrous, the very embodiment of generosity.

He no doubt believes that he is fighting for his king and country now

that they have set up this fetish of Potatau. It seems very hard, after

all the trouble we took with him and the others."

 

"And why should he _not_ fight?" asked Hypatia, with raised head and

flashing eyes. "And--

 

'How can man die better,

When facing fearful odds?'

 

The position is exactly that of Horatius. History repeats itself. I,

for one, do not wonder that any man of his tribe, or woman either,

should fight to the death in this quarrel. The more I learn about the

beginning of this lamentable war, the more I feel that the authors of

it must be condemned by impartial observers."

 

"It cannot be logically defended," admitted Mr. Summers; "and,

personally, I deplore the inevitable consequences, the temporary ruin

of our hopes, the destruction of our schools and churches, the arrest

of civilized progress. But some such conflict was unavoidable."

 

"But why?" asked Hypatia.

 

"The two races," answered he, "would never have continued to live

together in peace. The Maori nature, proud, jealous, revengeful,

holding themselves to be the original owners of the country, the

English to be strangers and invaders, forbade a lasting peace. They

were unwilling to dispose of their lands--these millions of fertile

acres of which they made little or no use. The colonizing Briton would

never have consented to stand idly by and see this great country,

fitted to be the home of millions of Anglo-Saxons or other Europeans,

held by a handful of barbarians."

 

"But how about the Divine command, 'Thou shalt not steal,' 'Do unto

others'--ordinances, the keeping of which is enjoined upon individuals,

but which are so conveniently ignored by nations?"

 

"As a minister of the Gospel and a preacher of the Word, I am compelled

to admit that our national policy and our national religion are

often at variance. Still, it cannot be denied that the advance of

civilization has mainly depended upon conquests and the doctrine of

force. In our own land the ancient Britons were dispossessed by the

Romans and the Iberian Celts; these, again, by Jutes and Saxons,

who in turn were conquered by the Normans. These people found a

weaker race, the Morioris, whom they slew and enslaved. They nearly

depopulated the South Island, and would have wholly done so but for our

arrival. They have always acted upon, and perfectly understand--

 

'The ancient plan,

That they should take who had the power,

And he should keep who can.'"

 

"That is intelligible," said Hypatia, with a sigh; "but I must say I

cannot help sympathizing with the Maori Rangatira, in the spirit of the

Douglas at Tantallon moralizing over Marmion--

 

'"'Tis pity of him, too!" he cried;

"Bold can he speak and fairly ride.

I warrant him a warrior tried."'

 

"Do not forget the poor wahines," said Mrs. Summers. "Like all women

in these affairs of state, they seem to have the worst of it. Think of

them at Orakau, marching out of their blood-stained pah in the midst of

a hail of bullets, hungry, thirsty, perhaps wounded, and yet, without

doubt, they joined in the defiant shout of '_Akore, akore, akore!_'"

 

"It was glorious," said Hypatia. "I could have wished to have been

there. It has immortalized them, as well as the warriors among whom

they fought. It will re-echo through the ages long after the pahs are

grass-grown, or perhaps made into tea-gardens for the coming race."

 

"That reminds me that it must be lunch-time," interposed Mrs. Summers,

gently; and, with a half-reproachful gaze, the indignant advocate

subsided, and retired to her chamber.

 

* * * * *

 

Matters went on calmly and peacefully in this lodge in the wilderness,

disturbed but from time to time with war rumours and tidings of siege

or skirmish. Occasionally a burst of weeping and dolorous long-drawn

lamentation in the Maori camp told that a friend or kinsman had been

added to the death-roll. Then a former convert or pupil would stagger

in, wounded almost to the death, to be tended, and cured, if such

were possible, for no slightly wounded combatant ever taxed the warm

welcome of the Mikonaree and his household. They were either sent

away rejoicing in their new-found strength and ability to level a

musket once more at the marauding pakeha, or, in other case, were laid

to rest in the mission graveyard, comforted by the thought that the

Burial Service would be read over them by the good pakeha whom they had

learned to trust and revere.

 

Sometimes, when hope had departed, and they began to count their

remaining hours, they returned to the lessons which had been with

such care instilled into them in the old peaceful days of the earlier

missions. They placed their trust in the mediation of Him whom they

connected with their conversion, and recalled the weekly services and

baptismal vows, happy in the unshaken faith of youth, and passing away

to spirit-land without doubt or fear.

 

At other times, the warrior, roused to frenzy by pain or despair, would

solemnly renounce the stranger's God and all His ways, and quit this

life, so incomprehensible to him, chanting the ancient war-song of

his ancestors, and electing to follow them to the Maori heaven by the

stormy path of the reinga.