MAORI CHIVALRY

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXI, Issue 21792, 5 May 1934, Page 1 (Supplement)

MAORI CHIVALRY

MY MATANGA

MANIFESTED AT GATE PA

The evening of April 29, 1864 —as we had recent reminder —saw at Gate Pa a tragic reverse for British arms. When the Ngaiterangi left their ruined defences under cover of the night, creeping in good order through the reserve force at the rear and suffering few casualties from its fire, they left bohind the evidence of their astounding victory. More than a third of tho storming party had succumbed; ton military officers were dead or mortally wounded; nearly all the officers of the Naval Brigade had been killed or severely incapacitated; the British loss was staggering, the Maori severe, but much less. Weeks later, at Te llanga, British prestige was restored somewhat, and the short, sharp Tauranga campaign ended with the achievement of the Government's purpose; yet nothing could obliterate the memory of the marvellous repulse and nothing take away the honour of the historic defence. Without hurry the Ngaiterangi withdrew. They collected arms, accoutrements and ammunition from the British dead —doing this with studied decency bore out their own wounded and retired to their inland stronghold, thence to disperse for a while to their various stations along tho edge of tho forest. But before they left tho sccno of their first gallant stand they added to their laurels by a scrupulous keeping of their code of chivalry. When all tho facts are weighed, this chivalry merits the utmost admiration. It was not the product of any weak sentiment. The Maori was schooled in war. He could be a relentless fighter. Ho fought to kill. 111 his inherited prowess was much real savagery. Barbarities of torture were sometimes committed of old time 011 helpless foes — and endured by them with a stoic recognition that it was all in the for- • tunes of conflict. Life, especially slave life, was cheap. When a rangatira's sense of propriety was offended or his ire roused, he was quick and strike and slay. If the Maori were to be judged by such things alone, a black indictment could be easily drawn—but tho ease of its drawing should not tempt any to think that it can truthfully be laid as an unqualified charge. Mean Cunning Abhorred The Maori was never all devil any more than he was all saint, and he eoul/El, when the best in him had way, rise to heights of nobility. The Christian ethic made an appeal to him. because so much of it was native to himself. For every tale of atrocity told to his discredit another can be cited in proof of his innate aptitude for good. If many a pakeha suffered merciless death, at his hands, not a few owed their spared lives to his patience and clemency. Point for point, his character was not unworthy to be ranked with theirs. War, with him, while it had a large place for astute strategy, was so much an exercise of thews and sinews that mean cunning was held in general abhorrence. When his chivalry is mentioned with remembrance of ail circumstances, it can be lauded as wonderful —probably unexcelled among l>eoples of any hue, certainly without parallel in dark-skinned races. The glory of Gate Pa is 110 solitary flash. In olden days of inter-tribal feud, bitter as it could be, were the amenities of orderly custom, of truce, of fraternising in the respite, and of peace with honour. The rules could bo broken—where are rules kept without a breach by somebody?—but if they were the miscreant was more scorned than applauded. So the Maori of modern days was perplexed and horrified when he found British soldiers attacking him on their Sabbath: that, to him, was not fair fighting. Illuminating Episodes Sprinkled in the record of war with the Pakeha are illuminating episodes. 111 the War of the North a conveyance of ammunition to the scene tf action was calmly watched from Maori ambush and allowed to proceed. "How could the red-coats fight if they had no powder?" In the Waikato Kingito fray, with great issues at stake, tho natives at Mere-mere, knowing that the enemy would be glad of fresh vegetables, filled a canoe with potatoes and other food from their own stores, and paddled it down the river under cover of a white flag to the neighbourhood of the British camp, as a present to General Cameron's men. It was not a case of Greeks bearing gifts, but just a deed of sheer good nature. Once tho British troops were so placed that they could not make contact with their supplies and had nothing to eat for days; so the paramount chief ordered tho fighting to stop until the unfortunate Pakeha could get food. It is well known that the Maori took a grejit liking to the valorous 65th Regiment, and that consequently, when it was fighting at close quarters, it once heard some eager warnings—"Lie down, sikityfif; we going to shoot!'' Let us get on with the epic of Gate Pa, supreme of pitched battles between invader and invaded. Beside the courteous notification of their stand at this near point of resistance and the intimation of the eight miles of road prepared toward Waoku in the rear, whither the troops might have to follow, the Ngaiterangi showed otherwise that they were bonny fighters. They sent their women out of harm's way—all but one, to be heard of again in a moment. They knew the purpose of the expedition organised so thoroughly against them, yet without a touch of the fronzy a desperate situation would have excused they stood at bay. If they went down, they would go down unscarred in honour. Keeping the Written Code They kept in detail their written code of chivalry. Their withdrawal in the night was not-so hasty that they need forget the plight of the stricken British. Colonel Booth, mortally wounded, was heard calling for water. It was taken to him, as the grand old chief Hori Ngatai (Taiaho) recalled quietlv long sil'terwards, by "one of our people." This errand of humanity stands to the credit of Heni Pore (Heni to KiriKarainu, as her own folk name her) not to the men sometimes credited with it —the one woman in the redoubt, whose record for courage and skill with a gun is elsewhere also in authentic story. The men, too, were similarly busy in kindness ere the levelled defences were left. Another wounded officer, having dropped his sword, saw a Maori pick it up and come toward him. He squared himself to meet his death-blow: tho weapon, to his surprise, was quickly handed to him hilt foremost. This courtesy was typical in that strange hour of triumph, and when it was avenged at Te TLanga 110 bitterness was felt. The Ngaiterangi scorned to buy peace, but when it was offered they took it as a gift honourably acceptable, and kept it with fidelity. "Ah'" said Hori Ngatai to an intent group of members of Parliament and distinguished officials in Wellington, as by request he told them tho story, Captain Mair interpreting each sentence of the venerated chief, " those were glorious days. Every fighter was a rangatira, and 0110 was proud to meet another in battle. Whatever the reverses were to either side, 110 bitter feelings were engendered to form any permanent hatred. We were all friends immediately there was no fighting. And that was all utterly true.