Pounamu : Notes on New Zealand Greenstone/Chapter 4
Chapter IV.
CONCERNING WAR-CLUBS.
DEAR to the heart of the Neolithic Maori was the mere, or as it is sometimes called, patu pounamu, the war-club of greenstone which was the principal emblem of chieftainship, and the most valuable of all objects made of the New Zealand nephrite. It took so many years of careful and patient toil to bring a war-club to the desired condition of finish, that it became an heirloom, and it was considered to hold the luck of the tribe. Tales bordering on the supernatural gathered about famous mere. Chiefs were incited to acts of reckless bravery, young warriors were roused to deeds of valour by those memorials of past struggles; and European observers have ever been impressed by the extraordinary influence which appeared to reside in these prized weapons. The Rev. W. Yate, one of the early missionaries to New Zealand, told that “the mere was made of green talc in the shape of a beaver’s tail. This is the only native weapon which has not been laid aside by the chiefs; it was a mark of distinction (carried) under their outer garment or suspended to their girdle. The finest of these beautiful specimens of native workmanship descend from father to son, and for scarcely any consideration are they ever parted with. Pieces of pounamu suitable for a chief’s mere were of a value which can hardly be realized by us in the present time. No weapon of warfare was more affectionately regarded than these legacies of ancestors, and to take one in battle was like capturing a colour with us.”
The conventional shape of this weapon, which never varied, is shown in Figure 10.
Figure 10
The mere is an oval-bladed weapon, in length from about 14 to 16 inches, flattened on both sides and having a double edge to the blade, which diminishes with two subtle curves to end in almost imperceptible shoulders at the handle, as is shewn in greater detail in Figure 11.
Figure 11
This swells out again to the butt or pommel, called reke, which has some simple decoration such as the concentric grooves shewn in the example illustrated above.
One of the mere in the British Museum collection has the butt carved with the partially finished head of a manaia,[1] but it was not usual for the maker to put anything more than the simplest ornament on these weapons, nor at any part of it except the reke.
Between the butt and the handle is a hole for the thong, or loop of strong cord. The hand was passed through the loop; a few turns of the club caused the cord to close upon the holder’s wrist, and the mere being grasped just forward of the reke the warrior was ready for battle or palaver. That was theoretically its use; but more often the thumb or fingers only were inserted in the loop of the thong, so that the wielder of the club might be in less danger of being dragged off his balance by an enemy who could successfully grasp the blade of it.
The mere being a short weapon, was usually carried thrust in the belt. In time of war weapons shared in the tapu with which the warriors were imbued, and mere, being thus themselves tapu, were always carefully guarded.
Though mere are commonly spoken of as “war-clubs,” they are actually stabbing and cutting weapons, and the only blows given with them were thrusts and sweeping cuts. If the blow was a forward stab in an enemy’s face or ribs, it was called tipi; a back-handed lunge was named ripi. With this weapon prisoners were slain by the chief before their bodies went into the oven. The thrust was given into the temple of the doomed men, and with a sharp turn of the wrist the top of the head was jerked open. It was with a patu that, after one of his victories, Te Wherowhero, father of the chief Potatau, who was proclaimed king of the Maori nation in 1858, slew two hundred and fifty prisoners of war. Hochstetter describes this weapon, made from a piece of beautiful transparent nephrite which was shewn to him by the chief’s successor, and tells that a notch in the edge was caused by the last fatal blow struck at a hard skull. Another renowned greenstone weapon, known as Hau Kapua, was surrendered to the Government of New Zealand at the end of the late war.
Enormous care was taken to preserve famous mere from loss or accidental damage. Hamilton, in his Maori Art, gives illustrations of two wooden boxes, 22 and 25 inches in length respectively, covered with carving of the most elaborate and intricate designs of mythological figures and distorted monsters, which he pronounced to have been used as receptacles for noble weapons.
If by chance a mere should be broken the precious fragments were carefully preserved in order that they might be made into tools, implements or ornaments according to their size. Figure 12 shews an adze-head made from a broken mere.
Figure 12
Much might be written about famous mere and the mark that they made in Maori history; and books on New Zealand and the native race will be found to contain many tales about these weapons and their owners.
The famous chief Te Heuheu was overwhelmed with all his people, save one man, on 7th May, 1846. His mere was one of the most celebrated in New Zealand. Years afterwards a hundred men were employed to dig at the place of the catastrophe, and they worked with such diligence and care that the mere was eventually found, and is still in the possession of the tribe.
War-clubs were generally buried with the chiefs, but were seldom allowed to remain permanently in the grave. Other articles of value might be allowed to stay in the earth; but the mere, being the principal badge of leadership, was recovered when the dead chief’s bones were taken up for the second burial. It is well known that many mere have been hidden in the North Island, and in some cases subsequent mortality in the tribe has obliterated all knowledge of the hiding places.
Occasionally mere that had been lost were found and recognized to the great joy of the tribe. In 1864, just after the Gate Pa affair, a soldier of the 68th Light Infantry, one of a burial party at the cemetery at Te Papa, near Tauranga, came across a long buried greenstone mere, which he shewed to a party of Maori passing the spot in a canoe. They at once landed and claimed it at head-quarters, on the ground that it had belonged to one of their famous chiefs interred at that place; and the English commander gave it up without demur, as was tika or correct.
A Maori warrior, faced with violent death, would elect to be killed by a patu rangatira, a chief’s patu, and would calmly await the death stroke, content to be despatched to reinga, the next world, even with his own good mere, comforted by the knowledge that it was no mean weapon that touched his proud head. Mr. Elsdon Best, in Notes on the Art of War, tells how a chief named Potiki pursued his enemy Kahu and ran down the fugitive, who was burdened by the weight of his child. But when Potiki raised his hatchet to slay his enemy, Kahu cried “Let me not be slain with a one-edged hatchet,” and drawing his own good greenstone mere, Te Heketua, from his belt he surrendered it to Potiki, saying, “Here is the weapon to slay me with. Let me feel the softness of its stroke.” And the chivalrous chief, not to be outdone in courtesy, forebore to kill him, and giving his own patiti to the conquered foe, bade him take it and go in peace with his child.
During the intertribal wars a leader of the Ngai Tai was slain by the Whakatohea who cut up the body, the head falling to the share of the Ngati Rua tribe. At a later time the Ngai Tai redeemed the head, giving a mere named Wawahi Rangi in exchange for it.
The longest mere in the British Museum belonged to Te Hiko-o-te-rangi, son of the chief Te Pehi, who visited England in 1826. The name of this weapon is Tuhi-wai. Another historic mere in the same collection is Papa-tahi, which was once in the possession of Rauparaha. Both were presented by Sir George Grey. Unfortunately they were injured in a fire that occurred at Government House, Auckland, while he owned them.
Another famous patu was Piwari, formerly the property of Ripa, one of the chiefs of the Bay of Islands. In Canon Stack’s Kaiapohia mention is made of Te Kaoreore, the greenstone patu of a chief named Te Aratangata, who in a very fierce fight against a hostile tribe did great execution with it till it broke, leaving only the handle in his hand. Seven other northern chiefs who had been driving bargains in greenstone fell on that day in the same pa.
There is something of simple and touching dignity in the story of the first presentation of a mere by a Maori chief to the King of England. H.M.S. Buffalo, Captain Sadler, came to New Zealand in 1834 to buy kauri spars for the British Navy. When the English officer had accomplished his mission, Titore, chief of the Ngapuhi, sent a message to King William IV. of which the following is a translation:—
“King William. Here am I, the friend of Captain Sadler. The ship is full and is now about to sail. I have heard that you aforetime were the captain of a ship. Do you therefore examine the spars, whether they are good, or whether they are bad. Should you and the French quarrel here are some trees for your warships. I am now beginning to think about a ship for myself. A native canoe is my vessel, and I have nothing else. The native canoes upset when they are filled with potatoes and other matters for your people. I have put on board the ‘Buffalo’ a greenstone war-club and two garments. These are all the things which New Zealanders possess. If I had anything better I would give it to Captain Sadler for you. This is all mine to you—mine—Titore to William, King of England.”
In due course a letter of thanks was sent to Titore by the Earl of Aberdeen, Secretary of State for War and the Colonies, together with a present from the king, “a suit of armour, such as was worn in former times by his warriors, but which is now only used by his own bodyguard.” This armour is now in the Dominion Museum at Wellington.
“A good mere pounamu," says Maning in his Old New Zealand, “would be a temptation. I had once a mere, a present from a Maori friend, the most beautiful thing of the kind ever seen. It was nearly as transparent as glass; in it there were beautiful marks like fern-leaves, trees, fishes, and—I would not give much for a person who could not see almost anything in it. Never shall I cease to regret having parted with it. The Emperor of Brazil, I think, has it now; but he does not know the proper use of it. It went to the Minister long ago. I did not sell it; I would have scorned to do that; but I did expect to be made knight of the golden pig knife, or elephant and watch box, or something of that nature.”
- ↑ See Chapter V. page 42.