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Octavius Hadfield
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 8
It was the Spring of 1849 when Octavius Hadfield returned to Waikanae and Otaki for the first time in almost five years. It was ten years since his first journey up this coast, and he reached Otaki in the first week of October just in time for his thirty-fifth birthday. It was a joyous return. With him journeyed a young Irish clergyman, the Rev. J. F. Lloyd, who had arrived in Wellington the previous month with an introduction to Hadfield. At Porirua Tamihana Te Rauparaha joined the travellers. At Waikanae they were warmly welcomed by Riwai Te Ahu and the remnants of the Ngatiawa tribe. But at Otaki, the centre of a thriving district now—the centre also of some antagonism to Hadfield in the past—his welcome was indeed joyous. He realised that these people had fully accepted him at last.
Lloyd wrote of the trip in an article in the Spectator, November 3, 1849. "At Porirua we were joined by Rauparaha's son, dressed in European costume, and mounted on an excellent horse, and apparently in no respect differing from one of ourselves, excepting in the colour of his skin. Our road now lay through a magnificent forest, diversified by almost every variety of foliage of which New Zealand can boast, but which, no doubt, will one day give way to a thriving and industrious population. . . . On arriving at Waikanae we found the Maoris employed in clearing away some drift sand which had gathered against their church, blocking up the windows on one side, and threatening to burst in the side wall. ... In the evening the whole population of the place was assembled for service within its walls. Here and elsewhere along the coast the Maoris are remarkable for the regularity of their attendance at the daily morning and evening services. . . . On reaching Otaki we found the inhabitants, to the number of about 600, assembled in an open space adjoining the east end of their church—a very appropriate spot on which to meet their pastor, through whose zeal and labour they were first brought to a knowledge of that blessed Gospel which has made such a wonderful change in their condition. As we approached, the men shook their garments, crying out, 'Haere mai!' page 64 their well-known form of welcome. We were not, however, favoured with the tangi, the Maoris justly believing this mode of reception to be offensive to the English. . . . The women gave vent to their feelings by sobs and moans. ... In the evening there was a congregation of about 600 in the church, which was larger than usual, many Maoris having come in for the occasion from neighbouring pas. . . .
Morning service commences at Otaki, in winter, as soon as it is light, in summer about 5 a.m., and evening service about sunset, when the work of the day is over. Every morning, as soon as the service is concluded, school commences, which is attended by almost the whole congregation, consisting of old and young, women and children. The adults are formed into classes in the church. . . . The young are drafted off to the school-house. . . . The majority of adults can both read and write well. Some classes write from dictation, and seldom are any of these known to make a mistake in spelling. They seem to have a peculiar facility in learning to write. And I have no hesitation in saying that I have never witnessed in any school for the poorer classes in England, Ireland, or Scotland, better writing, on the whole, than that which I have seen at Otaki. ... It has been Mr. Hadfield's aim, in all his instructions, to supply the Maoris with broad principles of action for the regulation of their conduct, and to teach them to apply these principles for themselves to all the practical details of life."
Although Rangiatea was not completed it was far enough advanced to be able to hold a welcome service for Hadfield on Sunday, October 7. This was crowded as were other services during that first Sunday of his return. But the church was not yet ready for regular services, and the people returned to work, the men to adze the slabs and pillars, the women to weave the tukutuku for the interior panels. Sam Williams himself, with sleeves rolled up, often helped with the manual labour.
Writing of the welcome service in his article, Rev. Lloyd said— "The large church was filled to overflowing. Most of the vast assembly sat on the ground in the usual Maori posture, and were so closely packed together that they presented a dense mass of human faces. Never have I seen . . . more reverence than I witnessed on that occasion."
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Te Rauparaha, from the original pencil sketch by Edward Abbott in 1845. This sketch belongs to the Hadfield family.
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The writing on the back of the original sketch of Te Rauparaha, describing the purchase from the artist by Sir George Grey and his subsequent gift of the drawing to Octavius Hadfield.
Lloyd also commented on the fact that the Maoris appeared to regard their religious services as a happy privilege rather than an irksome duty. Sam Williams, after two years at Otaki, must take some credit for that, but earlier Wakefield had written—"Mr. Hadfield had managed very wisely to introduce Christianity by the authority of the young chiefs, and to make them consider the new doctrine as a cheerful rather than a saddening and moping innovation."
Rangiatea was, and still is, a noble edifice. 80 feet long, 36 feet broad and 40 feet high, it is dominated by the three main pillars, massive totara trunks supporting the 86 feet long totara ridge beam. The inside walls are constructed of slabs of totara, set in the ground and stained with the red kokowai, alternating with panels of tuku-tuku, beautiful and delicate weaving in a star cluster pattern, interlaced with battens of dark green. When Hadfield first saw the church, spaces had been left in the walls for windows, and he himself ordered the lancet diamond panes for these. Seats were not put in for some years as the Maoris preferred sitting on the floor. At the welcome service in 1849 the floor was only earth, and flax mats were laid for the congregation to sit on. According to Maori tradition, some earth from beneath the sacred shrine in the temple at Raiatea, the island from which the ancestors of the Tainui tribe had migrated centuries before, was carried in the canoe Tainui, which carried also Te Rauparaha's ancestors. This soil was preserved through the ages, and eventually laid beneath the new church, Rangiatea, at Otaki.
On this first visit after his long absence, Hadfield travelled on through the Manawatu, seeing all his old friends and pupils. His immediate work, he concluded, would be training teachers for the various villages. What teachers there were needed further instruction, and there was a great need for more teachers. He felt he could do this without interfering in Sam Williams' work, for which he had the highest regard.
page 66And so, although it was not what the Bishop had visualised for him, for the next few years he travelled extensively up and down the coast between Wellington and the northern Manawatu, teaching, lecturing and baptising, taking services and taking classes, and in the business of the church acting as the Bishop's Commissary. When his sister Amelia decided to join him in New Zealand in 1850 he dissuaded her. "I am at present a rolling stone," he wrote. "I wish to be quite free to do anything—to remain as free as I have ever been. . . . Nothing would I like better than to have you all out here, but one, I am afraid, would be a source of anxiety to me."
In a letter home in September, 1849, he wrote of the Maoris— "One great object I have had in view . . . has been to render the Maoris more attractive to those that look only to the outward appearance, and thus gain for them respect. For when the lower classes of people see those whom they so lately regarded as savages neatly dressed, living in decent houses, cultivating wheat, keeping cows, able to read and write, and also attentive in their duties to God, they cannot but be struck with the remarkable effect produced . . . the same are led to treat the Maoris with more attention and respect. ... I have no hesitation in saying that this has tended to make them (the pakehas) far more attentive to religion than they were disposed to be a few years ago."
In April, 1850, in another letter, he wrote—"The Maoris are going on well at Otaki and its neighbourhood. They are making rapid improvement in their habits and mode of life generally . . . their decency of conduct and industrious, steady habits have made their outward condition one of comparative comfort."
As has been stated, both Tamihana and his home showed, by their outward condition, more comfort than any other. And it was in this home, with his son and daughter-in-law, that Te Rauparaha lived during 1849 after his release from the north. A very different existence to most of the old chief's long life. And it was here that he died on the 27 th November, 1849, only a few weeks after Octavius Hadfield had returned to Otaki.
Hadfield had seen Te Rauparaha in Wellington during the year, but it was fitting that they should meet again on the coast, even though for such a brief time. Rauparaha's star had been bright in the confines of the world in which he lived. His high chieftainship and authority, his record of past successes, gave added glamour to his oddly surprising personality. He was loved, feared and hated— page 67 above all, known and felt, both by European and Maori. There would be no more like him. Hadfield was almost alone among Europeans in his opinion of and tolerance for the old chief. It was a strange and unlikely bond that the two forged.
Writing of him in "Maoris of By-Gone Days", Hadfield described some of Te Rauparaha's adventures and their conversations together. "His name was known throughout New Zealand for the various wars he had been engaged in, and the ability he had displayed in overcoming obstacles and recovering from disasters had made him famous everywhere. On several occasions he related to me adventures connected with these wars which were very remarkable, as affording evidence of his marvellous resources. I will only mention one. Once during his wars with the Maoris of the South Island he was surprised when in his canoe by a party in several canoes which pursued him and gained upon him. On passing a point of land he observed a few rocks, and a large quantity of sea-weed on the surface of the water. He immediately pulled towards these, filled the canoe with water, allowing only enough of the heads of the party to enable them to breathe to appear above the water. He let his enemies go on their way, imagining that they were in pursuit of him, and then having floated his canoe, stood across the Strait and reached home safely. But his ready resource in a difficulty was not always exercised in so innocent a manner. On another occasion (I did not hear this from him) when pursued, in order to lighten his canoe, he threw into the sea those of his slaves who were unable to afford any assistance in paddling it.
I need not say more about his adventures, there being a good deal already recorded as to his wars in works on New Zealand. But what few people had an opportunity of understanding as well as I had, was his great ability. I had many opportunities of hearing him relate his past history, and the various wars he had been engaged in, as well as his contrivances to out-wit or elude his enemies. I lived in a whare a few hundred yards from the old pa, near the mouth of the Otaki River. Sometimes in an afternoon he would come and knock at my door and ask whether I was disengaged, and if so could we have a talk. He said that in the pa they only talked about pigs and potatoes, and he got tired of it. This did not suit the petty sovereign whose occupation was gone. He would then go back to very early times and relate the state of the various Maori tribes—their relations to one another, and their page 68 wars. I had often heard discussions on the advantage in Europe of maintainiing the balance of power in order to prevent one nation being overpowered by others, and the advantage of this questioned. To hear this old man talk, and learn how he had on several occasions managed to play off one tribe against another, and thus preserve his own independence and maintain the security of his tribe, was most astonishing.
He was always, from my first interview with him, courteous and civil. How far he would have been so, had not his only son Tamihana Katu, and his nephew Matene Te Whiwhi, been cordially co-operating with me, I am unable to say. He often gave me assistance, but never, though he occasionally came to church and remained during the whole service, professed belief in Christianity, or desired to be baptised."
So Te Rauparaha died. Octavius Hadfield and Sam Williams lead the funeral procession to the churchyard, but it would seem that neither of them performed the actual service. Te Rangihaeata was there, aloof and imperial, clad in a flax cloak, viewing the ceremony alone from a hillock overlooking the graveyard. A few weeks before the Rev. Lloyd had described him as a tall and powerful man, more than six feet in height, whose "air and manner at once betrayed the chief, and would have marked him out among 1,000 people to the eye of the most casual observer." He had chosen the site for the grave. The Independent, December 26, 1849, reported—"Rangihaeata took his seat on the side of the hill about 20 yards from the grave, and when they were lowering the coffin, he called out to stand at one side until he could see the last of him."
Tamihana was the chief mourner. Other sons and daughters had died through massacre and war in past years—only he and a daughter remained to Te Rauparaha. Maori tangiwangas were noisy and lengthy affairs, sometimes continuing several days. The people would laugh and weep, would eat and drink, would talk and chant. Often the women would slash themselves with sharp shells or pieces of obsidian, drawing the razor-like edges up and down their bodies from shoulder to waist and across their foreheads and cheeks, wailing lamentations as they did so. The missionaries frowned on this, and Tamihana, having adopted so many English customs, was anxious to please them at this funeral of his father. Even so much of the old tradition clung.
page 69Tamihana was a generous host and put on a great feast after the funeral. But the night was to bring another drama. Maori tradition, confirmed in this case by a whaler, John Westcott, says that the body of Te Rauparaha was removed from his grave that same night and carried by a large number of Maoris to the beach at the mouth of the Otaki river, and then transported to Kapiti where the body was hidden in a cave.
A canoe slipping silently over the dark water. Perhaps there his spirit roamed free over the wind and waves of his former dominion. Rangihaeata alone remained, proud and aloof, disdaining all advances of the white man, as reminder of the fierce and bloodthirsty past. He retreated once more to his swampy home at Porouta-whao, there to brood on the excitements and glory of that past.