The Burial of the Premier

Southland Times, Issue 19854, 23 June 1906, Page 4

The Burial of the Premier

" HABBE KA.” j 'me MAORI TANG I. A PATHETIC CEREMONY. (By Telegraph). • (From Our Special Correspondent.) WELLINGTON, June 2L I " The totara tree in fallen '• The eVice ore Pouri and lowering 1 It is ‘ittuig, for we also are pouri and dart at heart. 1 This was the sentiment expressed this i morning by an old Maori chief us the melancholy band; of native men «n women filed into Parliament House to farewell in their old, wild, poetic fashion the remains of their great white Kaumatua. Soon üßer ffi.yoroak Hie Maori mourners made their way from ell parts of the city to the House of Assembly. For days past they had been flocking into Wellington, atul for nights past.the wailing choruses of Uuigi songs had resounded from a hall in the vicinity of Parliament House, whore the Native people hail gathered to reheat so ttcir "mihig” and their ancient funeral dirges. To-day these preparations culminated in a mournful, thrilling eeiemony, the most affecting of‘ the hind that has ever been held in the Capital City. ‘"Hnere o-tu E Koto, haere Va ! hncro ra 1” Was its one theme—" Go, oh friend ! Farewell, a long farewell I’”Goye by the groat pathway of the countless dead ; 'tin the last road Hint all of us must tread." The Jdaoris numbered 300 or 100. and included representatives of nearly every tribe in Now Zealand. The tangihaua in Parliament House was to have begun at 7 o’clock this morning, but its opening was delayed till 7.15, when the heavy coffin was borne into the lobby oi tbe House of Representatives. Accompanying it on it.s removal from the Ministerial residence were the chief mourners, Mr Seddou’s sons and other male relatives, and the Hon. Mr ITall-Jones and other Ministers. A number of Maori chiefs had already placed on the floor oi the lobby at the far end, beneath the picture of Queen Victoria, a number of beautiful flax cloaks and mats. Here tbe coffin, borne slowly and reverently through the long aisle oi wreaths, was laid at rest. Behind the chief mourners and the Ministers came a number of old friends oi the Into Premier. They lingered a few moments in silent sorrow, and then quietly left the lobby, and the hall oi death was free for an hour to the Maori I'Cople, who were by this time gathered in the lower chamber awaiting the word to enter. Besides the members of Mr Seddon's family there were two or threo press representatives present, the only members of the pakoha, public privileged lo witness the Maori rites. A woman's t.igh-keyed voice, raising the opening cries oi the tangi wail, startled i lie heavy air of the llower-scented chamber. and in marched the Maoris In a ■•impact body. Some 50 women formed the advanced guard oi the " Bringing, in boars." They trod slowly on. turning this way and that, but ever keeping their heads bowed until their front rank nearly touched the coffin. Beautiful Women some of these tribe.-ipeople, all of birth and station, and nearly all with bine ta'ooed chins and lips. They nil wore black dresses. greenstone jewels, and sharks’ teeth hung by black ribbons from their ears and m their necks, and their bends and shoulders were profusely twined with green leaves and chaplets. the Maori insignia of mourning. In their hands they carried green branches, and with these they kept time. perfect mu’, rythmic to tho shrill dirge that they sang. ’’ Score the flesh, scarify your bodies as with knives'”—that Was the burden of their opening song, and th.-y kept appropriate time to it. drawing their hands up and down across their breasts and shoulders in allusion to the olden funeral custom, oi lacerating and cutting the "flesh with mussel shells, (lie privilege of the feminine section of the tribe- In front of ail marched the Wanganui ehieitainess, Wiki Taitokr, daughter of the late Major Kemp, a woman of commanding presence, one oi those wahines who wymld have held n pail in the days of old, ami fought as well ns any warrior. She led the main body in the chant and dance of grief. B'hlnd the women were the men, an interesting commingling of ancient and modern. Some were frock-coated, vvelleroomeil rangatiras from the Wair.irapa and 11 a vvl.ji-s Bay. There were veterans of the old war days, river men B>m the T’pper Wanganui, sheep farmers from the East Coast, wood carvers from Koloi'Uu, and college-I,red Maoris shouldor-to-shoul-d. r with a tatooed relic i f the days oi inter-tribal warfare. This ancient Maori held a commission as captain in Major Kemp's native contingent, and (• tght On the Government side against the Hauliuu.s in the Wanganui, Taranaki, and East Crast districts from 1361 till ISTo. He is about the last survivor of tbe gallant band oi ” friendlies ” who defeated tho up-river Hauhaus on Mautau Island in the Wanganui river in XSfjl. and saved Wanganui town. There were many others with, personal histories just as interesting and (all. striking men they Rut fn.w ihe first wild burst of the " inaimai " song subsided. The swaying women, their dark, flowing hair crowned with foliage, seated themselves on tho floor and, left a narrow line through which one or two chiefs advanced to l«y, fine mats beside the other Maori trea-

Mires at the coffin side. Then the noise i.i weeping rr.se, and then the men of Wanganui, led off by their chief, who i nivered a polished mere in the air, chanted in chorus one of their laments. MR C AIIROLI/S SPEECH. PRESENTATION OF A ”MIHI ” TO MRS SEDDON. Then the Honourable Mr Sarroll spoke: " Greetings to the people seated before me. Greetings to all the tribes from both islands. Their shelter is gone. Their provider has been taken away. The noble totara tree has fallen, cut oQ by the axe of death. He is gone to the gieut eight. Nothing could stay the hand of death, but loving messages of sympathy could perhaps do something to assuage the keen sorrow pi the bereaved ones- In that spirit It was desired to present the widow and children of thelate Air Seddon with the Maori’s Tnihi.” Hi'ir loving message of sorrow and of condolence.” Turning tc the sons of the dead Premier —Captain Seddon and Messrs T. A’, and Stuart Seddon—Mr Carroll said that the whole of the Maori people felt most poignantly the death of their parent, and he trusted that if anything could in any way temper the sorrow of the afflicted family it would be this little tribute of affection and grief from the native race. Mr Carroll then produced an engressed scroll bearing in Maori and in English as address to Mrs Seddon. Their ” raihi,” couched in poetic language, was read by the Minister in measured and impressive :oi\es, mid well deserved a permanent record as an example of pare idiomatic Maori and of simp's, tou hing, beautiful English. It, was signed by over 100 representative native men and women. The English text (drafted by Messrs Heke and Ngata and I n illy approved by Mr Carroll) was ns follows : ” To Mrs Seddon in memory ef Richard ..'obn Seddon, Premier of New Zealand, from the -Maori tribes of Aotearoa (North Island), and To Waipounaniu (South Island),—Remain, O Mother, with thy children and thy children's children. Tarry yet awhile in (lie house of mourning, in the chamber of death. Clasp but the cold form of him who was to thee husband beloved. He is now from thee departed, gone into the dark night, into that long day sleep. God he with thee in thf"e hour of trial. Here ho lies in the calm majesty of death. Rest, O Father. The tribes have assembled to mourn their loss. The canoe is cast from its moorings, its energy and guide is no more. The red-hued bird, the Icaka-kuri-f, the ornament of Aotea, the proud

boast of Te Waipounomu, Uia mighty heart of the land,, the roving spirit of the people, faro thee vrpil, a 1°»8 law-, } WC II. Pass on. 0 Noble One, across the • long sands of Hainan, beyond the barrier of Vnerau, gping before to join the illustrious dead. Woo unto us that are loft desolate in the Valley of Sorrow I In life thou wort great. Across the great ocean of Kiwa. beset by the turbulent waves of faction, mid the perverse winds of opinion, thou didst essay forth that thy people should reap benefits, that these islands and thy mother race should sec and do their duty in the brightest spheres of Empire and Humanity. Fate, relentless, seized thee i.!U_thc mid-ocean of ciTort and compelled thee into the still waters of death- Kest thou, O Father, resting on. Jgreal deeds done, sure that to generations unborn they will be as beacons along the highways 'of history. Though thou art gone, may thy spirit. which has long loved the heart of things, inspire us to greater, nobler ends. Stay not your lamentations, O ye people, for ye have indeed lost a father. Verily, our pah of refuge Is razed to the ground. The breastwork of defence for great and. small is torn up by the roots. As the overshadowingrata tree, ns the fallen towering totnr lv in the deep forest, so is the death of a mighty man. Oar shelter gone, who will temper the wind ? What of thy Maori people hereafter, unless thou canst from thy distant bourne help to inspire the bgo to kindlier impulse and action 7 So abide ye in your grief, bereaved ones. Though small our tribute., our hearts have spoken. Our feet have trod the sacred precincts of the courtyard of Heath. Our hearts will bo bis grave. Love will Vep his memory green through the long Weary years. Farewell.” The address -read. Mr Carroll handed it to Captain Seddon.

THF, TANGI SONGS. ‘ Th'ii tribe after tribe rose to pay tribute to the dead. Chief after chief stood up to deliver his salute to the spirit of Te Hctnnn. TTp rose Hori To Iluki. u gray old chief —” Huero alu E ICoro ; farewell, O old man !” ho cried. “Go thou to that lust dwelling place to salute thy honoured ancestors, to greet the spirits of the mighty dead.” Then Te Huki. broke out into a plaintive lament in which all his people quickly joined him in a resounding chant. It was an ancient lament by a .wiidow for her departed husband. Restless I lie within my lenely he use, For the loved one of my life has passed j away. I Tho singers, their voices rising und falling in wild cadence, wont on to compare the vanished chieftain to nu up- | noted tree :

My shelter from the blustering wind, Alas ! 'tis now laid low. Then the poet developed another beautiful piece of imugery : Behold yon glistening star so bright. Perhaps 'tis your beloved friend rcturnj ed homo again. O, sire, return. And tread with me again Thy old loved paths- '• Changing the metaphor yet agaiu, the mourners chauled all together t O, Hum that art gone, Thou wert as a great 1 canoe Decked with the snowy down Of lordly albatross. j Chief followed chief mid dirge followed dirge, and there was no eud lo the .vivid similies aud metaphors of the Mauri singers. Then came A thrilling finale. I The final scene in the laugi was a dramatic climax to au intensely touching ceremony. Tho songs, the high-pitched cries of farewells, cries almost of despair, had wrought both Maoris ami pakehas up to a pitch of deep feeling. Hoot Heke, M.H.R., seated on the floor near tho Wanganui contingent, rose 'and spoke his poroporoaki. As the last of the appointed orators he spoke briefly, and wiili the epigrammatic force of his nice, the old, old farewells to Ids departs ed leader. Then at his signal Takafungi Mete Iviagi, silling just in front of him. rose to liis feet, aud circling his more round bis head, he cried the opening words of the waiuta : "U hukarougo F. Te Ha Tenet Te Tupima O Te Mate." Thu

effect was electrical. The people sprang jto their feet, w.omen. and men, and with rolling eyes they broke into a grand chorus, ah. old uml well-remembered chant tc death. Jt had more than a touch of the barbaric, but there was something splendid in it. They stair ped, and threw liieir arms this way and that. The wioinen waved aloft their leafy trophies of sorrow. As they chanted with full voice the sonorous poem it seemed as if they were defiantly challenging tho death that lay personified in front of them. This war the wuiuta they sang, but no English translation can convey the Inexpressible pathos, the poetic force, the classic terseness of the original Maori :

( " Hearken, O ye people. This is Lhu parent of death, our common ancestor who must embrace us all. 'Twas conceived of in the Roingu. engendered in the dark, sad night. Tis but n breath from heaven, and wo pass away for ever. Wo fall, and prone we lie and over soundly sleep- We slumber with our knees drawn up. Wi- slumber stridden in n lieap. Wo liken thee to yon bright star, the sign of the Southern Cross, that ever round and round revolves. We circle our lives and then pass on. I am -£»ut, as a wandering spirit. Behold t.ho hawk that soars so far above in summer skies, and listen to the solemn uiatukn. ■the bittern that bellows In the awamp.” , Eyes rolling, feathers dancing, Mack ] resses tossing, and weapons brandished ,in the air, the people ended their great I rpg with' a long-drawn " E ; E." An (excited chief cried his loud farewell higher and higher, untli ho almost e'Tenmcd it : “ Farewell, depart. Depart ami greet your many ancestors.!’ Then ho snatched up a soft Max mat on which ho hud doeen kneeling, and, advancing, placed it at the foot of the bier. Again the weird cry, " Go, O old man, 1o that Place " broke out and then subsided into silence, and the people formed up in lino anil with bowed heads and lenr--slainod faces filed past the offin in r.r- ---! der to shake hands with the 'Tonier’s sons and take their last look at the casket of death, Then they as quietly filed out of the building and made way for their pakch'a fellow-mourners.