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The Urewera Country and the Hau Campaigns.

The story of the growth among the Maoris of the Hau religious cult, and of the resultant struggles between the native prophets and New Zealand Constabulary, has been told too often to bear repetition. Particularly well-known is the story of Te Kooti, his escape from the Chatham Islands and the desperate pursuit through the Urewera Mountains, which eventually drove him west of Lake Waikaremoana. And yet, this latter phase of the Hau campaigns is endowed with a certain elusive quality which is not revealed in the many official and unofficial records of the struggle. In this article, then, an attempt will be made, not to tell the story of the Hau Haus, nor to recount the details of the Urewera campaigns, but to describe the picture presented by the conflict in the wild and rugged Urewera country, of spiritual forces so intense as those which animated, on the one hand, the native Hau Haus, and on the other, the members, native and pakeha, of the New Zealand Constabulary.

There is a plateau in the heart of the mountainous Urewera country which presents to the observer a singularly rugged and untamed appearance. Behind it, and apart from the surrounding mountain ranges, rises a precipice, called by the Maori, "Maungapohatu," tall, bare and flat-topped, the upper portion of which is composed of solid, black rock. Below the plateau, the hills slope down towards the coast, and behind, mountain range is piled on mountain range till the uttermost distance is swallowed up.

The hills are spaced symmetrically round the plateau, and perhaps it is this symmetry that gives to the whole, the atmosphere of awful clarity by which it is chiefly characterised. Something there is, at least, which transcends the savagery of the mountain ranges, and perhaps by setting them in a frame the clearness and purity of which could hardly be equalled elsewhere, gives to them a refinement, and a certain lofty spiritual significance which is not their own.

This plateau is typical of the Urewera Country, but one further detail must be added to the picture it presents before we can obtain any adequate conception of the personality of the region—for it is a region which would seem to be endowed with personality. This detail is found elsewhere in lake Waikaremoana, "the lake of the sparkling waters."

Waikaremoana is some twenty miles from Maungapohatu, but is set in a similar frame. It lies at the crest of a mountain range and seems set at the summit of the world. On sunny days, its waters return the sparkle of the sky and the Maori name would seem well chosen, but in general, they take their colouring from the mountain ranges in which they are cradled, and these, whether they consist of bare precipices or of forest-clad hills, are very sombre. In dull weather, when the waters of the lake are still and the native birds are silent, the scene might seem transplanted to some primeval forest, undisturbed as yet by forms of moving life; and the steady motion of the lake, apparent even when the water's surface is very still, would suggest the inexhaustible patience and fixity of purpose with which, as the aeons passed, those forms of life were at length evolved.

The sombre scene, with its far-flung boundaries would suit well an epic combat. Here, the Titans might have struggled with the Giants, the rebellious angels with Saint Michael and his hosts. Here, from some unseen orchestra, the sturdy tramp of the Overture to Tannhauser might beat forth upon the air, with its tale of the laborious struggle between sensuality and spirituality, and the clear, triumphant finale with which it greets the victory of the latter.

It is fitting, then, that the Hau wars of last century should have been in large measure fought in the Urewera Mountains, for although the official records of the Urewera campaigns give us a picture of little more than a series of minor expeditions and skirmishes, yet the obstinate courage of the New Zealand Constabulary, coupled with the religious fanaticism and extravagance of passion with which the Hau Haus fought, made the struggle conform in some measure to the vast and sombre setting in which it was pursued.

Te Kooti, the last and the greatest of the Hau prophets, maintained himself in the Urewera country from 1868 to 1870. Confident that no force would dare follow him into the mountains, he made of them his headquarters, and left them only to make lightning raids on the settlements in the plains below. Eventually, however, Colonel Whitmore decided to invade the Urewera Country, and by destroying the fortresses in which it abounded, to reduce Te Kooti to subjection. It was now that the struggle became truly epic, epic because of the nature of the conflicting forces, the relentless courage of the New Zealand Con page 7 stabulary and the fierce savagery of the Hau Haus and because, too, of the awful austerity of the mountain country in which these forces met.

Consider the magnitude of the task undertaken by the members of the New Zealand Constabulary. The inhabitants of the Urewera Mountains, whether adherents of the Hau Hau cult or not, were known to be intractably hostile. The mountains in which they lived were as yet unexplored by white men, but it was known that the forest-clad gorges in which they abounded would provide every facility for the ambuscading tactics in which the tribes excelled. The only routes were the ancient Maori war trails, trails which the most hardened of athletes could follow only with the utmost difficulty. The mountain ranges, then as now, were seldom free from mists or rain clouds, and in winter were often snow-bound. Yet here the Government Forces campaigned in the war days of 1870. Crossing snow-clad ranges, wading up the beds of mountain torrents, hacking paths through the tangled forest, they followed Te Kooti from fortress to fortress. Once the latter was wounded. Time after time he was nearly taken. Band after band of his adherents were scattered. Citadel after citadel was stormed, and eventually, the spirit of his followers broken, he fled to the northern shores of Lake Waikaremoana.

Consider, now, the manner in which the Hau Haus lived. In Te Kooti's camp, every act was given a religious significance. The wairua tapu were consulted as to where hunting parties could find food, and when food was found, it might not be touched till Te Kooti himself had offered solemn thanksgiving for it. Rites were performed over the entrails of dead opponents to determine the advisability of advance or retreat. Religious services were held, so far as the exigencies of camp life would permit, four times a day. These services comprised a ritual evolved by Te Kooti himself and drawn principally from the more mournful passages of the Old Testament. Driven from mountain range to mountain range, in constant fear of ambuscade and death, the Hau Haus saw in their plight something analagous to the plight of the exiled Israelites. The dignified cadences of the Jewish laments responded to their own innate sense of word music, and was suited, too, to the wild music of their native chants. And so, led by their prophet, they called persistently upon the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and were kept ever conscious of the existence of some unseen world which, with all its potent spiritual forces, was fighting for them and against their foes.

The Hau Haus fought, too, with the savagery of mote ancient days. Bodies were mutilated and decapitated. Cannibalism was revived. Heads were dispatched as talismans from tribe to tribe. But to these features was added an extravagance of passion, itself the expression of religious fanaticism, such as the fiercest of the old tribal wars had never displayed. One example will serve to illustrate this. In Opottiki, a missionary named Volkner was murdered by a band of Hau Haus, led by the prophet, Kereopa. The murderers filled the communion cup from Volkner's own church with blood from the dead man's body. They then crowded into the church, and after an impassioned harangue had been delivered by Kereopa, the cup was passed round, and all, in turn, sipped of the blood it contained. To this rite they attributed some religious significance, and whether or not the ceremony was endowed with occult virtues, certain it is that those who participated in the drinking of the blood went forth from the scene, their passions inflamed and themselves made conscious of the existence of some spiritual world which they knew must assuredly bring victory to themselves and ruin to their enemies.

Recently, a party of University students followed one of the ancient Maori war trails from Ruatahuna to Maungapohatu. There, they attended a service conducted by leaders of the native Ringa Tu church, a church whose services comprise a modified form of the ritual evolved by Te Kooti. Seeing the enthusiasm of the natives for their religious rites, feeling the pulsing rhythm and hearing the wild cadences of the native chants, seeing the rugged and apparently impassable forests through which the members of the New Zealand Constabulary made their way, feeling, too, the personality of the region, they wete able to realise something of the epic spirit of the Urewera Campaigns, the grim determination of the Government troops, the religious madness of the Hau Haus, and behind, watching with unfaltering patience and casting on the struggle the shadow of their own austerity, the sombre peaks and forests of the Urewera Mountains.

—G.O.A.