LXXXII. NEW ZEALAND--Continued…

LXXXII. NEW ZEALAND--Continued

FOOD AND COOKERY.

HOSPITALITY OF THE NEW ZEALANDERS -- EFFECTS OF CIVILIZATION -- THE CHURLISH HOSTS AND THEIR REWARD -- A NEW ZEALAND FEAST -- THE WALL OF PROVISIONS -- FOOD-BASKETS -- THE KUMARA OR SWEET POTATO -- WASHING AND COOKING VEGETABLES -- THE CABBAGE PALM AND FERN ROOT -- A NATIVE LEGEND -- THE PAWA SHELL -- THE MUSSEL AND OYSTER -- FISHING -- THE NET, THE TRAP, THE HOOK, AND THE SPEAR -- BIRD-CATCHING -- CAPTURING THE KIWI-KIWI AND PARROT -- PIG-CATCHING AND COOKING -- CANNIBALISM, ITS SIGNIFICATION AND EXTENT -- EATING HUMAN FLESH A SUPERSTITIOUS CUSTOM -- ANECDOTES OF CANNIBALISM.

The New Zealanders are the most hospitable and generous of people; a stranger, whether native or European, is welcomed into the villages, is furnished with shelter, and provided at once with food. Should the visitor be a relative, or even an intimate friend, they hold all their property in common, and will divide with him everything that they possess. Even if a Maori has earned by long labor some article of property which he was very anxious to possess, he will give it to a relation or friend who meets him after a long separation.

This generosity of disposition has unfortunately been much checked by contact with the white man, and those natives who have much to do with the white settlers have lost much of their politeness as well as their hospitality. Instead of welcoming the traveller, housing him in their best hut, providing him with their choicest food, and tending him as if he were a near relation, they have become covetous and suspicious, and instead of offering aid gratuitously will sometimes refuse it altogether, and at the best demand a high rate of payment for their assistance.

The native converts to Christianity have deteriorated greatly in this respect through the misjudged zeal of the missionaries, who have taught their pupils to refuse food and shelter to, or to perform any kind of work for, a traveller who happens to arrive at their houses on a Sunday--a circumstance which must continually occur in a country where the travellers are entirely dependent on the natives. Dr. Dieffenbach, who always speaks in the highest terms of the zeal and self-denial of the missionaries, writes as follows on this subject: “Highly as I appreciate the merits of the missionaries, I must say that they have omitted to teach their converts some most important social, and therefore moral, duties, which they will only acquire by a more intimate intercourse with civilized Europeans.

“In their native state they are as laborious as their wants require; but, easily satisfying those, and incapable even by their utmost exertions to compete with the lowest of Europeans, they get lazy and indolent, prefer begging to working, and pass a great part of their time in showing their acquired fineries and in contemplating the restless doings of the colonist. As servants they are very independent, and Europeans will do well, if they want any native helpers, to treat them with attention, and rather as belonging to the family than as servants. They have this feeling of independence very strongly, and it is very creditable to them.

“There is every reason to believe that in a short time the character of the New Zealanders will be entirely changed, and any one who wishes to see what they were formerly must study them in the interior, where they are still little influenced by intercourse with us, which I must repeat, has been little advantageous to them.”

The same writer relates an amusing anecdote respecting the ancient custom of hospitality. He had been travelling for some distance with scarcely any provisions, and came upon a tribe which churlishly refused hospitality to the party, and would not even furnish a guide to show them their way. One of them condescended to sell a small basket of potatoes in exchange for some needles, but nothing more could be obtained, and, after spending a day in vain, the party had to pack up and resume their march.

After they had left the pah, they came suddenly across a family of pigs. One of the native attendants immediately killed a large sow, and in a few minutes the animal was cut up and the pieces distributed. Not liking to take food without paying for it, Dr. Dieffenbach hung the offal of the pig on a bush, together with an old pair of trousers and an iron kettle. His attendants, however, went back and took them away, saying that it was the custom of the country that a stranger should be supplied with food, and that, if it were not given to him, he had a right to take it when, where, and how he could. They were very much amused at the whole proceeding, and made many jokes on the disappointment of the churlish people who refused to sell a pig at a good price, and then found that it had been taken for nothing.

Hospitality being such a universal and imperative characteristic of the aboriginal Maori, it may be imagined that when a chief gives a feast he does so with a liberal hand. Indeed, some of these banquets are on so enormous a scale, that a whole district is ransacked to furnish sufficient provisions, and the inhabitants have in consequence to live in a state of semi-starvation for many months. Mr. Angas mentions that, when he visited the celebrated chief Te Whero-Whero, he saw more than a thousand men planting sweet potatoes in order to furnish provisions for a feast that the chief intended to give to all the Waikato tribes in the following spring.

These feasts are continued as long as any food is left, and a very liberal chief will sometimes get together so enormous a supply of provisions that the banquet lasts for several weeks. Songs and dances, especially the war dance, are performed at intervals throughout the time of feasting.

The first illustration on the 831st page gives a good idea of the preliminaries which are observed before the celebration of an ordinary feast, such as would be given by a well-to-do Rangatira. A sort of scaffold is erected, on the bars of which are hung large supplies of fish, mostly dried shark, together with pieces of pork, and similar luxuries. The upper part of the scaffold is formed into a flat stage, on which are placed large baskets full of sweet potatoes and common potatoes. The guests range themselves in a circle round the scaffold, and the chief who gives the feast makes a speech to them, brandishing his staff of office, running up and down the open space, leaping in the air, and working himself up by gestures to an extraordinary pitch of excitement.

One of my friends was distinguished by having a feast given in his honor, and described the ceremony in a very amusing manner. The generous founder of the feast had built a sort of wall, the contents of which were potatoes, sweet potatoes, pigs, and fish. By way of ornament, he had fixed a number of sticks into the wall, like so many flagstaffs, and to the top of each he had fastened a living eel by way of a flag or streamer, its contortions giving, according to his ideas, a spirit to the whole proceedings.

He then marched quickly backward and forward between the wall of provisions and his guests, who were all seated on the ground, and as he marched uttered a few broken sentences. By degrees his walk became quicker and quicker, and changed into a run, diversified with much leaping into the air, brandishing of imaginary weapons, and utterance of loud yells. At last he worked himself up into a pitch of almost savage fury, and then suddenly squatted down silently, and made way for another orator.

The waste which takes place at such a feast, which is called in the native language hui, is necessarily very great. In one such party mentioned by Mr. Angas, the donor arranged the provisions and presents for his guests in the form of a wall, which was five feet high, as many wide, more than a mile in length, and supplied for many days thousands of natives who came to the feast from very great distances. The great chiefs take great pleasure in rivalling each other in their expenditure, and it was for the purpose of building a still larger food wall that Te Whero-Whero was so busily setting his men to work in planting the kumeras, or sweet potatoes.

Considerable variety is shown in the manner of presenting the food to the guests. Generally it is intended to be eaten on the spot, but sometimes it is meant to be given away to the people, to be consumed when and where they like. In such a case either the scaffold or the wall is used. The scaffold is sometimes fifty or sixty feet high, and divided into a number of stories, each of which is loaded with food. If the wall be employed, it is separated into a number of divisions. In either case, when the guests are seated, a chief who acts as the master of the ceremonies marches about and makes a speech, after the fashion of his country; and, after having delivered his oration, he points out to each tribe the portion which is intended for it. The chief man of each tribe takes possession of the gift, and afterward subdivides it among his followers.

It is rather remarkable that the baskets in which the provisions are served are made for the express purpose, and, having fulfilled their office, are thrown aside and never used again. Should a chief take one of these baskets and begin to eat from it, not only the basket but any food which he may leave in it is thrown away, no chief ever eating after any one, or allowing any one to eat after him.

So when a chief takes his basket of food, he withdraws himself from the rest of the company and consumes his food, so that no one shall be incommoded by his rank. Ordinary people, even the Rangatiras, are not nearly so fastidious, one basket of food sufficing several of them, three or four being the usual number for a basket. Each of these baskets contains a complete meal, and is usually supplied with plenty of potatoes and kumeras, some fish, and a piece of pork. The meat is passed from one to another, each taking a bite, or tearing off a portion; and when they have finished, they wipe their hands on the backs of the dogs which are sure to thrust themselves among the revellers.

These feasts naturally lead us to the various kinds of food used by the New Zealanders, and their modes of procuring and preparing them.

We will begin with the plant which is the very staff of life to the New Zealander, namely, the kumera, or sweet potato, as it is popularly though erroneously called. This plant is largely cultivated by the Maories, who are very careful in selecting a proper soil for it. The best ground for the kumera is that which has been thickly wooded, and is cleared for the purpose. The natives take but little trouble about preparing the land, merely cutting down the trees and burning the brushwood, but never attempting to root up the stumps.

The ground is torn up rather than dug by a simple instrument, which is nothing more than a sharpened pole with a cross-piece fastened to it, on which the foot can rest. As the New Zealanders do not wear shoes, they cannot use an iron spade as we do; and it may easily be imagined that the unprotected foot of the Maori would suffer terribly in performing a task which, even among our stoutly-shod laborers, forces them to wear a plate of iron on the sole of the boot.

The kaheru, as this tool is called, is more effective than an iron spade could be, in consequence of the peculiar character of the soil, which is thickly interlaced with the roots of ferns, brushwood, and shrubs. A few of these curious spades are tipped with a piece of green jade, and are then highly valued by the natives. Such a tool is called E Toki. The Maories have also a kind of hoe which is very useful in some soils.

The kumeras are planted in regular rows, and the greatest care is taken to keep the field clear of weeds. The dark agriculturists even remove every caterpillar that is seen upon the plants; and altogether such elaborate care is taken that the best managed field in Europe cannot surpass, and very few even equal, a piece of land cultivated by the New Zealander.

Each family has its own peculiar field, the produce of which is presumed to belong to the family. But a great portion of the labor performed in it may be done by poor men who have no land of their own. In such a case, they acquire, in virtue of their labor, a legal right over the fruits of the land which they have helped to till. Sometimes the head or chief of a tribe, considering himself as the father of the family, institutes a general sale, and distributes the proceeds according to the amount of material or labor which each has contributed.

Before the potatoes are cooked, they are carefully washed in a simple and very effective manner. A woman puts them into a basket with two handles, popularly called a “kit,” wades into a running stream, puts one foot into the basket, takes hold of the handles, and rocks the basket violently backward and forward, while with her foot she continually stirs up and rubs the potatoes. In this manner the earth is washed away from the vegetables, and is carried off by the stream through the interstices of the basket.

At the present day, the kumera, although very highly valued, and used at every important feast, has been rivalled, if not superseded, by the common potato which can be raised with less trouble and cooked more easily. Both the kumera and potato are cooked in a sort of oven, made by heating stones, and much resembling the cooking-place of the Australians. No cooking is allowed to take place in the house, the act of preparing food being looked upon as a desecration of any building. Through ignorance of this curious superstition, Europeans have frequently brought upon themselves the anger of the natives by eating, and even cooking, food within a house which is looked upon as sacred.

In consequence of this notion, the oven is either constructed in the open air, or at best in a special house called Te-kauta, which is made of logs piled loosely upon each other, so as to permit the smoke to escape.

The bud, or “cabbage,” of the nikau-palm, a species of Areca, is highly prized by the Maories, who fell every tree which they think likely to produce a young and tender bud. This vegetable is sometimes eaten raw, and sometimes cooked in the same mode as the potato. Fortunately, the tree is not wasted by being cut down, as its leaves are used for many purposes, such as making temporary sheds when travellers are benighted in the forest, thatching houses, and similar uses. Still, the destruction of this useful and graceful palm is very great, and there is reason to fear that the improvident natives will wholly extirpate it, unless means be taken to preserve it by force of law.

The Maories have one curious plan of preparing food, which seems to have been invented for the purpose of making it as disgusting as possible. They take the kumera, the potato, or the maize, and steep it in fresh water for several weeks, until it is quite putrid. It is then made into cakes, and eaten with the greatest zest. To an European nothing can be more offensive, and the very smell of it, not to mention the flavor, is so utterly disgusting that even a starving man can hardly manage to eat it. The odor is so powerful, so rancid, and so penetrating, that when Europeans have been sitting inside a house and a man has been sitting in the open air eating this putrid bread, they have been forced to send him away from the vicinity of the door. By degrees travellers become more accustomed to it, but at first the effect is inexpressibly disgusting; and when it is cooked, the odor is enough to drive every European out of the village.

In former days the fern-root (Pteris esculenta) was largely eaten by the natives, but the potatoes and maize have so completely superseded it that fern root is very seldom eaten, except on occasions when nothing else can be obtained. When the fern root is cooked, it is cut into pieces about a foot long, and then roasted. After it is sufficiently cooked, it is scraped clean with a shell. The flavor of this root is not prepossessing, having an unpleasant mixture of the earthy and the medicinal about it.

About December another kind of food comes into season. This is the pulpous stem of one of the tree-ferns which are so plentiful in New Zealand (Cyathea medullaris). It requires long cooking, and is generally placed in the oven in the evening, and eaten in the morning.

With regard to the vegetables used in New Zealand, Dr. Dieffenbach has the following remarks. After mentioning the native idea that they were conquerors of New Zealand, and brought with them the dog and the taro plant (Arum esculentum), he proceeds as follows:--“A change took place in their food by the introduction of the sweet potato or kumera (Convolvulus batata)--an introduction which is gratefully remembered and recorded in many of their songs, and has given rise to certain religious observances.

“It may be asked, What was the period when the poor natives received the gift of this wholesome food, and who was their benefactor? On the first point they know nothing; their recollection attaches itself to events, but not to time. The name, however, of the donor lives in their memory. It is E’ Paui, or Ko Paui, the wife of E’ Tiki, who brought the first seeds from the island of Tawai. E’ Tiki was a native of the island of Tawai, which is not that whence, according to tradition, the ancestors of the New Zealanders had come. He came to New Zealand with his wife, whether in less frail vessels than they possess at present, and whether purposely or driven there by accident, tradition is silent.

“He was well received, but soon perceived that food was more scanty here than in the happy isle whence he came. He wished to confer a benefit upon his hosts, but knew not how to do it, until his wife, E’ Paui, offered to go back and fetch kumera, that the people who had received them kindly might not suffer want any longer. This she accomplished, and returned in safety to the shores of New Zealand.

“What a tale of heroism may lie hidden under this simple tradition! Is it a tale connected with the Polynesian race itself? or does it not rather refer to the arrival in New Zealand of the early Spanish navigators, who may have brought this valuable product from the island of Tawai, one of the Sandwich Islands, where the plant is still most extensively cultivated? There can be scarcely any doubt but that New Zealand was visited by some people antecedent to Tasman. Kaipuke is the name of a ship in New Zealand--buque is a Spanish word--Kai means to eat, or live. No other Polynesian nation has this word to designate a ship. Pero (dog) and poaca (pig) are also Spanish. Tawai, whence E’ Paui brought the kumera, is situated to the east of New Zealand according to tradition, and the first discoverers in the great ocean, Alvaro Mendana (1595), Quiros (1608), Lemaire, and others, arrived from the eastward, as they did at Tahiti, according to the tradition of the inhabitants. Tasman did not come to New Zealand until 1642.”

However this may be, the fields of kumera are strictly “tapu,” and any theft from them is severely punished. The women who are engaged in their cultivation are also tapu. They must pray together with the priests for the increase of the harvest. These women are never allowed to join in the cannibal feasts, and it is only after the kumera is dug up that they are released from the strict observance of the tapu. They believe that kumera is the food consumed in the “reinga,” the dwelling-place of the departed spirits; and it is certainly the food most esteemed among the living.

They have several ways of preparing the sweet potato. It is either simply boiled, or dried slowly in a “hangi,” when it has the taste of dates, or ground into powder and baked into cakes. The kumera, like most importations, is rather a delicate vegetable, and while it is young it is sheltered by fences made of brushwood, which are set up on the windward side of the plantation when bad weather is apprehended. Great stacks of dried brushwood are seen in all well-managed kumera gardens, ready to be used when wanted. So great is the veneration of the natives for the kumera, that the storehouses wherein it is kept are usually decorated in a superior style to the dwelling of the person who owns them.

In illustration No. 2, on the next page, several of these elaborate storehouses are shown. They are always supported on posts in such a way that the rats cannot get among the contents, and in some instances they are set at the top of poles fifteen or twenty feet high, which are climbed by means of notches in them. These, however, are almost without ornamentation, whereas those which belong specially to the chief are comparatively low, and in some cases every inch of them is covered with graceful or grotesque patterns, in which the human face always predominates.

Some of these curious storehouses are not rectangular, but cylindrical, the cylinder lying horizontally, with the door at the end, and being covered with a pointed roof. Even the very posts on which the storehouses stand are carved into the rude semblance of the human form.

The Maories also say that the calabash, or hue, is of comparatively late introduction, the seeds having been obtained from a calabash which was carried by a whale and thrown on their shores.

A very curious article of vegetable food is the cowdie gum, which issues from a species of pine. This gum exudes in great quantities from the trees, and is found in large masses adhering to the trunk, and also in detached pieces on the ground. It is a clear, yellowish resin; and it is imported into England, where it is converted into varnish. The flavor of the cowdie gum is powerfully aromatic, and the natives of the northern island chew it just as sailors chew tobacco. They think so much of this gum, that when a stranger comes to visit them, the highest compliment that can be paid to him is for the host to take a partially chewed piece of gum from his mouth, and offer it to the visitor.

The New Zealanders eat great quantities of the pawa, a species of Haliotis, from which they procure the pearly shell with which they are so fond of inlaying their carvings, especially the eyes of the human figures. Shells belonging to this group are well known in the Channel Islands under the name of Ormer shells, and the molluscs are favorite articles of diet. Those which are found in New Zealand are very much larger than the species of the Channel Islands, and the inhabitants are tough and, to European taste, very unpalatable. Great quantities are, however, gathered for food. The putrid potato cakes are generally eaten with the pawa; and the two together form a banquet which an Englishman could hardly prevail on himself to taste, even though he were dying of hunger.

Mussels, too, are largely used for food: and the natives have a way of opening and taking out the inmate which I have often practised. If the bases of two mussels be placed together so that the projections interlock, and a sharp twist be given in opposite directions, the weaker of the two gives way, and the shell is opened. Either shell makes an admirable knife, and scrapes the mollusc out of its home even better than a regular oyster-knife.

Oysters, especially the Cockscomb oyster (Ostræa cristata), are very plentiful in many parts of the coast, and afford an unfailing supply of food to the natives. They are mostly gathered by women, who are in some places able to obtain them by waiting until low water, and at other places are forced to dive at all states of the tide.

Fish form a large portion of New Zealand diet; and one of their favorite dishes is shark’s flesh dried and nearly putrescent. In this state it exhales an odor which is only less horrible than that of the putrid cakes. Mr. Angas mentions one instance where he was greatly inconvenienced by the fondness of the natives for these offensive articles of diet. He was travelling through the country with some native guides, and on arriving at a pah had procured for breakfast some remarkably fine kumeras. The natives immediately set to work at cooking the kumeras, among which they introduced a quantity of semi-putrid shark’s flesh. This was not the worst of the business, for they next wove some of the phormium baskets which have already been described, filled them with the newly-cooked provisions, and carried them until the evening repast, giving the traveller the benefit of the horrible odor for the rest of the day.

Fish are either taken with the net, the weir, or the hook. The net presents nothing remarkable, and is used as are nets all over the world, the natives weighting them at the bottom, floating them at the top, shooting them in moderately shallow water, and then beating the water with poles in order to frighten the fish into the meshes.

Traps, called pukoro-tuna, are made of funnel-shaped baskets, just like the eel-traps of our own country; but the most ingenious device is the weir, which is built quite across the river, and supported by poles for many yards along its side. Often, when the net or the weir is used, the fish taken are considered as belonging to the community in general, and are divided equally by the chief.

Sometimes a singularly ingenious net is used, which has neither float nor sinkers. This net is about four feet wide, thirty or forty feet in length, and is tied at each end to a stout stick. Ropes are lashed to the stick, and the net is then taken out to sea in a canoe. When they have arrived at a convenient spot, the natives throw the net over the side of the canoe, holding the ropes at either end of the boat, so that the net forms a large semicircle in the water as the boat drifts along. In fact it is managed much as an English fisherman manages his dredge.

In the middle of the canoe is posted a man, who bears in his hand a very long and light pole, having a tuft of feathers tied to one end of it. With the tufted end he beats and stirs the water, thus driving into the meshes of the net all the small fishes within the curve of the net. Those who hold the ropes can tell by the strain upon the cords whether there are enough fish in the net to make a haul advisable, and when that is the case, the net is brought to the side of the canoe, emptied, and again shot.

Spearing fish is sometimes, but not very largely, employed. The hooks employed by the New Zealanders present a curious mixture of simplicity and ingenuity. It really seems strange that any fish should be stupid enough to take such an object in its mouth. There is, however, one which is a singularly admirable contrivance. The body of the hook is made of wood, curved, and rather hollowed on the inside. The hook itself is bone, and is always made from the bone of a slain enemy, so that it is valued as a trophy, as well as a means of catching fish. This bone is fastened to the rest of the hook by a very ingenious lashing; and, in some instances, even the bone is in two pieces, which are firmly lashed together. In consonance with the warlike character of the natives, who seem to be as ready to offer an insult to other tribes as to take offence themselves, the use of the enemy’s bone is intended as an insult and a defiance to a hostile tribe.

The body of the hook is lined with the pawa shell, and to the bottom of it is attached a tuft of fibres. This hook is remarkable for requiring no bait. It is towed astern of the canoe, and when pulled swiftly through the water it revolves rapidly, the pearly lining flashing in the light like the white belly of fish, and the tuft of fibres representing the tail. Consequently, the predatorial fish take it for the creature which it represents, dash at it as it flashes by them, and are hooked before they discover their mistake. If any of my readers should happen to be anglers, they will see that this hook of the New Zealander is exactly similar in principle with the “spoon-bait” which is so efficacious in practised hands. One of these hooks in my collection is quite a model of form, the curves being peculiarly graceful, and the effect being as artistic as if the maker had been a professor in the school of design. The length of my hook is rather more than four inches: and this is about the average size of these implements. The string by which it is held is fastened to the hook in a very ingenious manner; and indeed it scarcely seems possible that so apparently slight a lashing could hold firmly enough to baffle the struggles of a fish large enough to swallow a hook more than four inches in length, and three-quarters of an inch in width. Some of these hooks are furnished with a feather of the apteryx, which serves the purpose of an artificial fly.

Both salt and fresh water crayfish are taken in large quantities. The latter, which are very large, are almost invariably captured by the women, who have to dive for them, and the former are taken in traps baited with flesh, much like our own lobster-pots. Birds are almost always caught by calling them with the voice, or by using a decoy bird. The apteryx, or kiwi-kiwi, is taken by the first of these methods. It is of nocturnal habits, and is seldom seen, never venturing out of its haunts by day. It is very thinly scattered, living in pairs, and each pair inhabiting a tolerably large district. At night it creeps out of its dark resting-place among the ferns, where it has been sleeping throughout the day, and sets off in search of worms, grubs, and other creatures, which it scratches out of the ground with its powerful feet. During the night it occasionally utters its shrill cry; that of the male being somewhat like the words “hoire, hoire, hoire,” and that of the female like “ho, ho, ho.”

When the natives wish to catch the apteryx, they go to the district where the bird lives, and imitate its cry. As soon as it shows itself, it is seized by a dog which the hunter has with him, and which is trained for the purpose. As the bird is a very strong one, there is generally a fight between itself and the dog, in which the powerful legs and sharp claws of the bird are used with great effect. Sometimes the hunter has ready a torch made of the cowdie resin, and by lighting it as soon as the kiwi-kiwi comes in sight he blinds the bird so effectually by the unwonted light that it is quite bewildered, does not know in what direction to run, and allows itself to be taken alive.

At some seasons of the year the bird is very fat, and its flesh is said to be well flavored. In former days, when it was plentiful, it was much used for food, but at the present time it is too scarce to hold any real place among the food-producing animals of New Zealand, its wingless state rendering it an easy prey to those who know its habits. The skin is very tough, and, when dressed, was used in the manufacture of mantles.

The parrots are caught by means of a decoy bird. The fowler takes with him a parrot which he has taught to call its companions, and conceals himself under a shelter made of branches. From the shelter a long rod reaches to the branches of a neighboring tree, and when the bird calls, its companions are attracted by its cries, fly to the tree, and then walk down the rod in parrot fashion, and are captured by the man in the cover.

Formerly the native dog used to be much eaten; but as the species has almost entirely been transformed by admixture with the various breeds of English dogs, its use, as an article of food, has been abandoned. Pigs are almost the only mammalia that are now eaten; but they are not considered as forming an article of ordinary diet, being reserved for festive occasions. The pork of New Zealand pigs is said to surpass that of their European congeners, and to bear some resemblance to veal. This superiority of flavor is caused by their constantly feeding on the fern roots. In color they are mostly black, and, although tame and quiet enough with their owners, are terribly frightened when they see a white man, erect their bristles and dash off into the bush.

We now come to the question of cannibalism, a custom which seems to have resisted civilization longer in New Zealand than in any other part of the world. In some places cannibalism is an exception; here, as among the Neam-Nam of Africa, it is a rule. An illustration on the next page represents a cannibal cooking-house, that was erected by a celebrated Maori chief, in the Waitahanui Pah. This was once a celebrated fort, and was originally erected in order to defend the inhabitants of Te Rapa from the attacks of the Waikato tribes. Both these and their enemies having, as a rule, embraced Christianity, and laid aside their feuds, the pah has long been deserted, and will probably fall into decay before many years have passed. Mr. Angas’ description of this pah is an exceedingly interesting one.

“Waitahanui Pah stands on a neck of low swampy land jutting into the lake, and a broad, deep river, forming a delta called the Tongariro, and by some the Waikato (as that river runs out again at the other end of Tampo Lake), empties itself near the pah. The long façade of the pah presents an imposing appearance when viewed from the lake; a line of fortifications, composed of upright poles and stakes, extending for at least half a mile in a direction parallel to the water. On the top of many of the posts are carved figures, much larger than life, of men in the act of defiance, and in the most savage posture, having enormous protruding tongues; and, like all the Maori carvings, these images, or waikapokos, are colored with kokowai, or red ochre.

“The entire pah is now in ruins, and has been made tapu by Te Heuheu since its desertion. Here, then, all was forbidden ground; but I eluded the suspicions of our natives, and rambled about all day amongst the decaying memorials of the past, making drawings of the most striking and peculiar objects within the pah. The cook houses, where the father of Te Heuheu had his original establishment, remained in a perfect state; the only entrance to these buildings was a series of circular apertures, in and out of which the slaves engaged in preparing the food were obliged to crawl.

“Near to the cook houses there stood a carved patuka, which was the receptacle of the sacred food of the chief; and nothing could exceed the richness of the elaborate carving that adorned this storehouse. I made a careful drawing of it, as the frail material was falling to decay. Ruined houses--many of them once beautifully ornamented and richly carved--numerous waki-tapu, and other heathen remains with images and carved posts, occur in various portions of this extensive pah; but in other places the hand of Time has so effectually destroyed the buildings as to leave them but an unintelligible mass of ruins. The situation of this pah is admirably adapted for the security of its inmates: it commands the lake on the one side, and the other fronts the extensive marshes of Tukanu, where a strong palisade and a deep moat afford protection against any sudden attack. Water is conveyed into the pah through a sluice or canal for the supply of the besieged in times of war.

“There was an air of solitude and gloomy desolation about the whole pah, that was heightened by the screams of the plover and the tern, as they uttered their mournful cry through the deserted courts. I rambled over the scenes of many savage deeds. Ovens, where human flesh had been cooked in heaps, still remained, with the stones used for heating them lying scattered around, blackened by fire; and here and there a dry skull lay bleaching in the sun and wind, a grim memorial of the past.”

The chief reason for the persistent survival of cannibalism is to be found in the light in which the natives regard the act. As far as can be ascertained, the Maories do not eat their fellow-men simply because they have any especial liking for human flesh, although, as might be expected, there are still to be found some men who have contracted a strong taste for the flesh of man. The real reason for the custom is based on the superstitious notion that any one who eats the flesh of another becomes endowed with all the best qualities of the slain person. For this reason, a chief will often content himself with the left eye of an adversary, that portion of the body being considered as the seat of the soul. A similar idea prevails regarding the blood.

When the dead bodies of enemies are brought into the villages, much ceremony attends the cooking and eating of them. They are considered as tapu, or prohibited, until the tohunga, or priest, has done his part. This consists in cutting off part of the flesh, and hanging it up on a tree or a tall stick, as an offering to the deities, accompanying his proceedings with certain mystic prayers and invocations.

Most women are forbidden to eat human flesh, and so are some men and all young children. When the latter reach a certain age, they are permitted to become eaters of human flesh, and are inducted into their new privileges by the singing of chants and songs, the meaning of which none of the initiates understand, and which, it is probable, are equally a mystery to the priest himself who chants them.

The palms of the hands and the breast are supposed to be the best parts; and some of the elder warriors, when they have overcome their reluctance to talk on a subject which they know will shock their interlocutors, speak in quite enthusiastic terms of human flesh as an article of food.

That cannibalism is a custom which depends on warfare is evident from many sources. In war, as we shall presently see, the New Zealander can hardly be recognized as the same being in a state of peace. His whole soul is filled with but one idea--that of vengeance; and it is the spirit of revenge, and not the mere vulgar instinct of gluttony, that induces him to eat the bodies of his fellow-men. A New Zealander would not dream of eating the body of a man who had died a natural death, and nothing could be further from his thoughts than the deliberate and systematic cannibalism which disgraces several of the African tribes.

How completely this spirit of vengeance enters into the very soul of the Maories can be inferred from a short anecdote of a battle. There is a small island in the Bay of Plenty called Tuhua, or Mayor’s Island, the inhabitants of which, about two hundred in number, had erected a strong pah, or fort, in order to defend themselves from the attacks of tribes who lived on the mainland, and wanted to capture this very convenient little island. The fort was built on a very steep part of the island, craggy, precipitous, and chiefly made up of lava.

After making several unsuccessful attacks, the enemy at last made an onslaught in the night, hoping to take the people off their guard. The inmates were, however, awake and prepared for resistance; and as soon as the enemy attacked the pah, the defenders retaliated on them by allowing them to come partly up the hill on which the pah stands, and then rolling great stones upon them. Very many of the assailants were killed, and the rest retreated.

Next morning the successful defenders related this tale to a missionary, and showed the spot where so sanguinary an encounter had taken place. The missionary, finding that all the stones and rocks were perfectly clean, and betrayed no traces of the bloody struggle which had taken place only a few hours previously, asked to be shown the marks of the blood. His guide at once answered that the women had licked it off. It has sometimes been stated that the Maories will kill their slaves in order to furnish a banquet for themselves; but such statements are altogether false.

Cannibalism is at the present day nearly, though not quite, extinct. Chiefly by the efforts of the missionaries, it has been greatly reduced; and even in cases where it does take place the natives are chary of speaking about it. In wars that took place some forty years ago, we learn that several hundred warriors were slain, and their bodies eaten by their victors. In comparatively recent times twenty or thirty bodies have been brought into the pah and eaten, while at the present day many a native has never seen an act of cannibalism. This strange and ghastly custom is, however, so dear to the Maori mind that one of the chief obstacles to the conversion of the natives to Christianity is to be found in the fact that the Christian natives are obliged to abjure the use of human flesh. Still, the national instinct of vengeance is rather repressed than extirpated, and there are many well-known occasions when it has burst through all its bonds, and the savage nature of the Maori has for a time gained ascendency over him.

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LXXXIII. NEW ZEALAND--Continued

WAR.

THE MODE OF WARFARE DEPENDENT ON WEAPONS -- THE SPEAR, NOW EXTINCT -- THE MERAI, AND THE MATERIALS OF WHICH IT IS MADE -- THE GREEN JADE MERAI, AND ESTIMATION IN WHICH IT IS HELD BY THE CHIEFS -- THE STONE MERAI -- THE BONE MERAI, AND ITS VARIED SHAPES -- MODE OF USING THE WEAPON -- CAPTURE OF SHIPS -- AN EXCITING SCENE AND TIMELY RELIEF -- THE BATTLE-AXE, OR PATU -- ITS FORM, AND MODE OF USING IT -- THE CHIEF’S SPEAR, OR HANI -- ITS RESEMBLANCE TO THE ANCIENT SCEPTRE -- THE TONGUE OF DEFIANCE -- THE WAR DANCE -- ITS EFFECT ON BOARD SHIP -- THE FORT, OR PAH, AND ITS CONSTRUCTION -- NATIVE ENGINEERING -- THE REPULSE AT THE GATE PAH -- CONCEALING AN AMBUSH -- FATE OF CAPTIVES -- THE CHIEF E’HONGI AND HIS BATTLES -- SLAVE-DRIVING WITH A MERAI -- ETIQUETTE OF WAR -- A TRUCE AND A BARTER -- RETALIATION FOR BLOODSHED -- CEREMONIES BEFORE AND AFTER A BATTLE.

We now come to the one great object of a Maori’s life, namely, war. Before we treat of actual warfare, it will be necessary to describe the weapons which are used, as much of the character of warfare materially depends on them.

In those parts of the world, for instance, where missiles, such as bows and arrows or spears, are the principal weapons, war becomes a series of skirmishes, each individual trying to conceal himself as much as possible from the enemy, and to deal his own blows without exposing himself to retaliation. But when the weapons are of a nature that necessitates hand-to-hand combat, warfare naturally assumes a different aspect, and, if the forces be at all disciplined, more resembles the regulated war of civilized nations than the independent single combats which represent war in most savage countries.

To this latter category belong the weapons of the New Zealander. In former days the Maori warriors used to employ the spear, but that weapon has long been laid aside. A few specimens are still retained, but they are intended, not to be used against an enemy, but in welcoming a friend, the chief who receives his guests pointing the spear at them, and throwing it toward them, as has already been described. When Mr. Angas visited the islands, he found only a very few of these spears, and they were used entirely for peaceful purposes. They were of the same character as those of the great Polynesian group, i. e. made entirely of wood, long, sharply pointed, and armed with a series of barbs.

One of these spears is shown at figure 1, of “Maori weapons,” on page 841. The reader will understand that only the head of the spear is shown, the entire length of the weapon being about twelve feet. The barbs are seen to be arranged in double order, a number of them pointing backward, and then, after a blank space, several rows pointing forward. The object of this device was ingenious enough. The spear was supposed to be pushed through the body of a man until it was stopped by the second row of barbs. It will be seen that his body would then rest in the blank space, and the barbs on either side of him would prevent it from being drawn out or pushed through, so that a wound from the weapon was necessarily mortal. A spear made on the same principle, and employed by the Bechuanas, is shown on page 281.

The weapons used by the Maories are very few in number, and of the simplest possible construction. It is extraordinary, by the way, what misconceptions exist on this subject. With the generality of persons almost every club, axe, or spear is set down as belonging to New Zealand, especially if it has any carving about it. Even the best public collections are not free from these errors, and in one of the most celebrated collections of arms I discovered within five minutes ten or twelve wrong labels.

There is now before me an illustrated work on savage manners and customs, in which is a group of “New Zealand arms,” containing thirteen objects. Of these only one is a genuine weapon of New Zealand, and two others are doubtful. There are two Fiji clubs (one of them with a hollow tubular handle!), one stone knife of New Caledonia, two clubs of the Tonga Islands, one Maori chief’s staff of office, one New Zealander’s carpenter’s adze, one “poi” mallet and one “gnatoo” mallet from Tonga, and two articles which the draughtsman may have intended for clubs, but which have been transformed by the engraver’s art into bottle-gourds. Besides, there is one nondescript article which may be a drum (and therefore cannot belong to New Zealand), or it may be a pail, or it may be a jar, and another nondescript article.

We need not, however, wonder at these trifling errors when, in the same work, a scene in a North American wigwam is described as a “New Zealand christening,” and the “Interior of a Caffre hut” is fitted with Abyssinian arms and implements: the men are represented as wearing long two-forked beards like those of the Fans, headdresses like those of Tonga, and capes like those of Abyssinia; while a smooth-haired woman, instead of being dressed in Kaffir fashion, is naked with the exception of a white cloth tied round her hips. The hut itself is a singularly ingenious example of perversity on the part of the draughtsman, who has selected precisely those very characteristics which do not belong to the Kaffir hut. In the first place, the hut is three times too large, and the walls are apparently of clay--certainly not of the basket-work employed by Kaffirs in house-building. The floor, which in a Kaffir hut is laid down with clay, as smooth as a table and hard as concrete, is irregular and covered with grass; while, by way of climax, the door is high enough to allow a man to pass without stooping, and is finished with a beautiful arched porch covered with creepers.

With the exception of one man, who may, by some stretch of imagination, be taken for a Hottentot, neither the hut, its furniture, its inhabitants, nor their weapons, bear the slightest similitude to those of any part of Southern Africa. Such being the case with museums and books, we need not be surprised that the popular ideas respecting the weapons and warfare of New Zealand are very indefinite.

Of course, at the present day, the Maories have practically discarded their ancient weapons in favor of the rifle, which they know well how to use, retaining the aboriginal weapons more as marks of rank than for active service. We have, however, nothing to do with these modern innovations, and will restrict ourselves to the weapons that belong to the country.

The first and most important of these is the merai, or short club. This weapon is exactly analogous to the short sword used by the ancient Romans, and in some cases resembles it so closely that if the cross-guard were removed from the sword and the blade rendered convex instead of flat, the shapes of the two weapons would be almost exactly identical.

The material of which these weapons are made is sometimes wood and sometimes stone, but mostly bone, the latter material being furnished by the spermaceti whale. The stone merai is the most valued, on account of the difficulty of finding a suitable piece for the purpose, and of the enormous time which is consumed in cutting it to the desired shape with the very imperfect instrument which the Maori possesses. In fact, a stone merai is lowly and laboriously ground into shape by rubbing it with a piece of stone and a sort of emery powder.

Every merai has a hole drilled through the end of the handle. Through this hole is passed a loop of plaited cord, by means of which the weapon is slung to the wrist, to prevent the wearer from being disarmed in battle. Drilling the hole is a very slow process, and is done by means of a wetted stick dipped in emery powder.

The finest merai of this description that I have seen belongs to H. Christie, Esq., and is remarkable not merely for its size, but for the regularity and beauty of its curves. The material is the dark, dull green volcanic stone of which the New Zealanders make so many of their implements. It is nearly eighteen inches in length, and rather more than four inches wide at the broadest part. There is a similar weapon, nearly as large, in the collection of the United Service Institution; but the curves are not so regular, nor is the article so handsome.

One of these weapons is in my collection. It is of equal beauty in shape with that which has been described, but is not so long. It is rather more than fourteen inches in length, and not quite four inches wide. It weighs two pounds six ounces, and is a most formidable weapon, a blow from its sharp edge being sufficient to crash through the skull of an ox, not to mention that of a human being.

Every chief, however low in rank, is sure to have one of these merais, of which he is very proud, and from which he can scarcely be induced to part. The great chiefs have their merais made of green jade, such as has already been described when treating of Maori ornaments. These weapons are handed down from father to son, and are so highly valued by the natives that it is hardly possible to procure one, unless it be captured in battle. If a chief should die without a son to whom his merai can descend, the weapon is generally buried with him.

At fig. 6, in the “weapons,” on page 841, is seen one of these green jade merais. The shape is not nearly so elegant as that of my weapon which has just been described. Indeed, with so valuable and rare a mineral as this green jade, it is not easy to find a piece large enough to be cut into an ordinarily shaped weapon and the manufacturer is obliged to do his best with the material at his command.

At fig. 7 is an example of the commonest kind of merai, that which is made of wood. As the material of such a weapon is comparatively valueless, the Maories seem to indemnify themselves by adding ornament to the weapon. For example, they very seldom make the merai of the same simple shape as that at fig. 6, but give it a distinct edge and back as at fig. 7. In some cases they make it into a most elaborate piece of native art, the whole being so beautifully carved that it looks more like a number of carved pieces of wood fitted together than a weapon cut out of one solid block.

A singularly beautiful example of such a weapon is to be seen in fig. 1 of the illustration “Merais,” on page 841. As the reader may see it is one mass of carving, the design being cut completely through the wood, and therefore being alike on both sides. The back of the merai is carved into a pattern of singular beauty and boldness, and the edge is armed with a row of shark’s teeth, which make its blows very formidable when directed against the naked bodies of the Maori warriors. The specimen from which the drawing was taken may be seen in the collection of the British Museum.

The second fig. of the illustrations shows a merai made of bone. The material is mostly obtained from the blade bone of the spermaceti whale, and in consequence the weapon is said in books of travel to be made of whalebone, thus misleading the ordinary reader, who is sure to understand “whalebone” to be the black elastic substance obtained from the Greenland whale.

These merais are extremely variable in shape. Some of them are made like the stone weapons, except that they are much flatter, and have in consequence both edges alike. Sometimes they are studded with knobs and cut into hollows; sometimes carved into patterns, much resembling that of the wooden merai, but not so elaborate. The specimen which I have selected for the illustration shows examples of the ornaments and studs.

I possess a very good merai which has been made from the lower jaw of the spermaceti whale. This weapon is shown in fig. 4 of the same illustration, opposite, and close by it is a section of the jaw of the whale, in order to show the manner in which it is cut. This weapon measures seventeen inches in length by three and a half inches in width, and weighs one pound nine ounces. In consequence of this comparative lightness, it is a much more efficient weapon than the stone merai; for the latter is so heavy that, if a blow misses its aim, the striker is unable to recover the weapon in time to guard himself, or to repeat the blow, and so lays himself open to the enemy.

If the reader will look at the section of bone, he will see that it is porous in the centre and hard and solid at the edges. It is from the solid part that the merai has been cut, and in consequence the weapon is very flat. The numerous channels through which pass the blood vessels that nourish the bone are seen in the section, and in the drawing of the merai one of them is shown traversing the weapon longitudinally. The name of the merai is “patu-patu,” the u having the same sound as in flute.

Many of the natives have found out that the English bill-hook answers admirably as a merai, and can be obtained with very little trouble. Great quantities of them were at one time imported from Birmingham; but the rifle and bayonet have in latter days so completely superseded all other weapons that the Maories trouble themselves little about the bill-hook.

When a Maori fights with the merai, he does not merely strike, his usual movement being to thrust sharply at the chin of the enemy; and if he succeeds in striking him with the point, he cuts him down with the edge before he can recover himself.

At fig. 5 of the “Maori weapons,” on the next page, is seen an axe, or tomahawk. This is a curious mixture of European and Maori work, the blade being obtained from England, and the handle made and carved in New Zealand with the usual grotesque patterns which a Maori likes to introduce into all objects connected with warfare. The thigh bone of a slain enemy is a favorite handle for such a tomahawk.

Before the fierce and warlike character of the New Zealanders was known, they took several vessels by the use of the merai. It was easy to suspend the short club over the shoulder, where it was hidden by the mat, so that when a party of natives came on board, apparently unarmed, having ostentatiously left their patus and other weapons in their canoes, each man was in fact armed with the weapon that he most trusted. The plan pursued was, that the Maories should mingle freely with the crew, until each man was close to one of the sailors. At a signal from the chief, the concealed merai was snatched from beneath the mat, and in a moment it had crashed through the head of the selected victim.

Even after this ruse was discovered, the ingenious Maories contrived to get hold of more than one vessel under pretence of exhibiting their war dance, which in a moment was changed from the mimicry of battle into reality, the warriors leaping among the spectators and dealing their blows right and left among them. Ship-taking seems, indeed, to be a proceeding so dear to the New Zealander, that he can scarcely resist the temptation when it is offered him. In Messrs. Tyerman and Rennet’s “Missionary Voyage” there is an anecdote of an adventure that befell them, which, but for the timely aid of a friendly chief, would undoubtedly have had a tragic issue.

The ship had arrived off New Zealand, and while at anchor the following events occurred:--“This morning our little vessel was surrounded with canoes, containing several hundreds of the natives, of both sexes, who presently climbed up, and crowded it so much that we were obliged to put a bar across the quarter-deck, and tabu it from intrusion. The commerce in various articles, on both sides, went on pretty well for some time, till one provoking circumstance after another occurred, which had nearly led to the seizure of the ship and the loss of our lives.

“In the confusion occasioned by the great throng in so narrow a space, the natives began to exercise their pilfering tricks, opportunities for which are seldom permitted to slip away unimproved. Suddenly the cook cried out, ‘They have stolen this thing;’ but scarcely had he named the thing (some kitchen article), when he called out again, ‘They have stolen the beef out of the pot!’ and then a third time, ‘They have stolen my cooking pan!’ Presently another voice bawled out from the forecastle, ‘Captain! they have broken open your trunk, and carried away your clothes!’

“Up to this time we had been in friendly intercourse with the chiefs, rubbing noses, and purchasing their personal ornaments and other curiosities, suspecting no mischief. But now, in the course of a few moments, without our perceiving the immediate reason, the whole scene was changed. We found afterward that the captain (Dibbs), on hearing of the audacious thefts above mentioned, had become angry, and while he was endeavoring, rather boisterously, to clear the deck of some of the intruders, one of them, a chief, on being jostled by him, fell over the ship’s side into the sea, between his own canoe and the vessel. This was seized instantaneously as the pretext for commencing hostilities. The women and children in the course of a few minutes had all disappeared, leaping overboard into their canoes, and taking with them the kakaous, or mantles, of the warriors. The latter, thus stripped for action, remained on deck; of which, before we were aware, they had taken complete possession; and forthwith made us their prisoners.

“Tremendous were the bawlings and screechings of the barbarians, while they stamped, and brandished their weapons, consisting principally of clubs and spears. One chief with his cookies (his slaves) had surrounded the captain, holding their spears at his breast and his sides, on the larboard quarter of the vessel. Mr. Tyerman, under guard of another band, stood on the starboard; and Mr. Bennet on the same side, but aft, toward the stern. Mr. Threlkeld and his little boy, not seven years old, were near Mr. Bennet not under direct manual grasp of the savages. The chief who, with his gang, had been trafficking with Mr. Bennet, now brought his huge tattooed visage near to Mr. B.’s, screaming, in tones the most odious and horrifying: ‘Tongata, New Zealandi, tongata kakino?--Tongata, New Zealandi, tongata kakino?’

“This he repeated as rapidly as lips, tongue, and throat could utter the words, which mean, ‘Man of New Zealand, is he bad man?--Man of New Zealand, a bad man?’ Happily Mr. Bennet understood the question (the New Zealand dialect much resembling the Tahitian): whereupon, though convinced that inevitable death was at hand, he answered, with as much composure as could be assumed, ‘Kaore kakino tongata New Zealandi, tongata kapai’ (‘Not bad; the New Zealander is a good man’); and so often as the other, with indescribable ferocity of aspect and sharpness of accent, asked the same question (which might be a hundred times), the same answer was returned.

“‘But,’ inquired Mr. Bennet, ‘why is all this uproar? Why cannot we still rub noses, and buy and sell, and barter, as before?’ At this moment a stout slave, belonging to the chief, stepped behind Mr. Bennet, and pinioned both his arms close to his sides. No effort was made to resist or elude the gigantic grasp, Mr. B. knowing that such would only accelerate the threatened destruction. Still, therefore, he maintained his calmness, and asked the chief the price of a neck ornament which the latter wore. Immediately another slave raised a large tree-felling axe (which, with others, had been brought to be sharpened by the ship’s company) over the head of the prisoner. This ruffian looked with demon-like eagerness and impatience toward his master for the signal to strike.

“And here it may be observed that our good countrymen can have no idea of the almost preternatural fury which savages can throw into their distorted countenances, and infuse into their deafening and appalling voices, when they are possessed by the legion-fiend of rage, cupidity, and revenge. Mr. Bennet persevered in keeping up conversation with the chief, saying, ‘We want to buy bruaa, kumera, ika, &c. (hogs, potatoes, fish), of you.’

“Just then he perceived a youth stepping on deck with a large fish in his hand. ‘What shall I give you for that fish?’--‘Why, so many fish-hooks.’--‘Well, then, put your hand into my pocket and take them.’ The fellow did so. ‘Now put the fish down there, on the binnacle, and bring some more, if you have any,’ said Mr. Bennet. At once the fish that he had just bought was brought round from behind and presented to him again for sale. He took no notice of the knavery, but demanded, ‘What shall I give you for that fish?’--‘So many hooks.’--‘Take them. Have you no other fish to sell?’ A third time the same fish was offered, and the same price in hooks required and given, or rather taken, by the vendor, out of his jacket pockets, which happened to be well stored with this currency for traffic. A fourth time Mr. Bennet asked, ‘Have you never another fish?’ At this the rogues could contain their scorn no longer, but burst into laughter, and cried, ‘We are cheating the foreigner!’ (‘Tangata ke!’) supposing that their customer was not aware how often they had caught him with the same bait.”

By this ingenious plan of pretending to be the dupe of the Maories, Mr. Bennet contrived to gain time, of which he knew that every minute was of the greatest importance, and at last he was rewarded for his courageous diplomacy by the arrival of a boat, in which was a friendly chief, who at once cleared the ship.

The reader will observe that at this time the New Zealanders had not abandoned the use of the spear as a weapon of war, though only twenty years afterward scarcely a spear could be found that was not intended as an emblem of hospitality instead of strife.

At fig. 3 of “Weapons” is shown a very curious club, called Patu by the natives, and popularly, but wrongly, called by sailors a battle-axe. It is about five feet in length, and has at one end a flat, axe-like head, and at the other a sharp point. One of these weapons in my possession, presented to me, together with many similar articles, by E. Randell, Esq., is five feet one inch in length, and weighs two pounds six ounces, being exactly the same weight as the stone merai already described. The rounded edge of the axe-like head is very sharp, and certainly looks as if it was intended for the purpose of inflicting wounds. Such, however, is not the case, the Maori using the pointed butt as a spear or pike, and striking with the back of the head and not with the edge.

Through the lower portion of the head is bored a hole, to which is suspended a bunch of feathers and streamers. Sometimes this tuft is only a foot in length, but is often longer. In a specimen taken by Sir J. E. Alexander it is half as long as the patu itself. At first sight this appendage seems, like the multitudinous feathers which decorate a North American spear or club, to be merely an ornament, and to detract from, rather than add to, the efficiency of the weapon. But the Maori warrior is far too keen a soldier to sacrifice use to ornament, and, if he employs the latter, he is sure to take care that the former is not endangered by it.

In the present case, this apparently useless appendage adds materially to the effectiveness of the weapon. When the warrior, armed with the patu, meets an adversary, he does not rush at him heedlessly, but fences, as it were, with his weapon, holding it in both hands, twirling it about, and flourishing the bunch of feathers in the face of his foe so as to distract his attention. Neither does he stand in the same spot, but leaps here and there, endeavoring to take the foe off his guard, and making all kinds of feints in order to test the adversary’s powers. Should he see the least opening, the sharp point of the butt is driven into his adversary’s body, or a severe blow delivered with the head, the stroke being generally made upward and not downward, as might be imagined.

In fact, the whole management of the patu is almost identical with that of the old quarterstaff of England, a weapon whose use is unfortunately forgotten at the present day. The bunch of feathers is not an invariable appendage. In my own specimen, for example, it has never been used, and I have seen many others in which the hole has not been bored for the insertion of the string that ties the feathers together.

The last weapon drawn in this illustration is hardly worthy of the name. It is a dagger, and is shown at fig. 4. At fig. 2 of the same illustration is seen an implement which is generally mistaken for a spear, and is labelled as such in many a collection. It is, however, no spear at all, but a sceptre, or staff of office belonging to a chief. The Maori name is E’Hani. It is shaped at the butt like an exceedingly elongated merai, and indeed the entire implement looks as if the hani and the merai were but different modifications of the same weapon.

Be this as it may, the hani is no spear, but a staff of office, almost identical in form with that which was borne by the ancient kings and heralds in the times of Troy. At the upper end is seen the head, which bears some resemblance to the point of a spear, and has given ground to the notion that the implement in question is really a spear. This portion, however, does not serve the purpose of offence, but is simply a conventional representation of the human tongue, which, when thrust forth to its utmost, conveys, according to Maori ideas, the most bitter insult and defiance. When the chief wishes to make war against any tribe, he calls his own people together, makes a fiery oration, and repeatedly thrusts his hani in the direction of the enemy, each such thrust being accepted as a putting forth of the tongue in defiance.

In order to show that the point of the hani is really intended to represent the human tongue, the remainder of it is carved into a grotesque and far-fetched resemblance of the human face, the chief features of which are two enormous circular eyes made of haliotis shell.

Generally, the hani is ornamented with feathers like the patu; but many of the staves are without this decoration, which is looked upon as a mere non-essential. These staves vary greatly in length. My own specimen is between five and six feet in length, and is without the feather ornaments, whereas others are not more than a yard in length, and are decorated with a bunch of feathers as long as themselves. The chiefs are nearly as tenacious of the hard as the merai, and do not seem to be easy if it be put out of their reach. Some years ago several Maori chiefs came to visit England, and were taken to see the various sights of London. But whether they went to the theatre, or to the Zoological Gardens, or to make calls, they invariably took their hanis with them, sometimes carrying a short one for convenience’ sake, but appearing to attach the greatest value to its possession.

One of these curious implements in my collection is six feet in length, and is made of the same wood as the patu. If held upright the resemblance of the point to the outstretched tongue is not very plain; but if it be held horizontally, the effect is quite altered, and the whole of the tip is seen to represent a human head with the tongue thrust out as far as possible between the lips. As the tongue is only a conventional representation, it is covered with a pattern, a ridge running along the centre, and each side being marked with precisely similar curves and semi-spirals.

In spite of its length, it really makes a very convenient walking-staff, and, on an emergency, might do duty as a weapon, the tongue-like tip being sharp enough to act as a spear head, and the flattened butt being heavy enough to stun a man with a well-directed blow. My specimen does not possess the tuft of feathers and dog’s-hair which decorates the hani shown in the “weapons” (fig. 2, p. 841); but this adornment is not considered as forming a necessary part of the implement.

Before a party engage in war, they think themselves bound to join in the war dance. There are war dances in almost all savage tribes, but that of the New Zealander surpasses them all. In other cases, each warrior gives himself up to the excitement of the moment, and shouts, yells, dances, and brandishes his weapons as he seems to think fit; but the Maori warrior’s dance is of a far different character, being guided by a discipline and precision of drill to which that of the Russians themselves is loose and irregular.

They begin by smearing the whole of their clothing and by painting their faces with scarlet ochre, so as to make themselves as hideous as possible. When they assemble for the dance, they arrange themselves in lines, mostly three deep, and excite their naturally passionate disposition to the highest pitch by contorting their faces and thrusting out their tongues as an act of defiance, interspersing these gestures with shouts, yells, and challenges to the enemy. The dance itself begins with stamping the feet in perfect time with each other, the vigor of the stamp increasing continually, and the excitement increasing in similar proportion.

Suddenly, with a yell, the whole body of men leap side-ways into the air, as if actuated by one spirit, and, as they touch the ground, come down on it with a mighty stamp that makes the earth tremble. The war song is raised, and in accordance with its rhythm the men leap from side to side, each time coming down with a thud as of some huge engine. The effect of the dance upon the performers is extraordinary. It seems to make them for the time absolute maniacs, their whole nature being given up to the furious excitement of the moment. Their faces are frightfully contorted, and thus assume an absolutely demoniacal expression.

Even when war is not impending, the magic influence of the dance affects the performers as strongly as if they were close to a pah or fort of the enemy, ready for battle; and when, as is sometimes the case, the Maories give a dance in honor of a visitor, they become so furiously excited that they are quite dangerous until they have had time to cool.

On one such occasion a party of Maories who had visited a ship were requested to exhibit their war dance, and very good-naturedly did so. But in a short time their measured leaps became so vehement, and their stamps so powerful, as they shouted the martial rhymes of the war song, that they shook the whole ship as if by blows of a battering-ram; and the commanding officer, fearful that they would absolutely smash the deck, begged them to desist. His entreaties were in vain, even if they were heard, though it is very likely that, in their furious excitement, the dancers were deaf to every sound except the war song which they were yelling at the top of their voices; and the dance proceeded to its end, and did not cease until the performers were quite exhausted by the furious exertions they had made.

The most ludicrous part of the dance was the conduct of the chief. He had been treated with much attention, and presented with a full suit of naval uniform, of which he was mightily proud, and in which he stalked about the deck to the great admiration of his subjects. When he was asked whether the war dance could be given, he at once ordered his followers to accede to the request, and at first stood quietly by while they went through the performance.

The influence of the dance was, however, too contagious to be resisted, and rapidly extended itself to him. First he merely swayed his body in rhythm with the steps of the dancers, then he joined sotto voce in the song, then he began to stamp in time with them, and at last threw off all restraint, sprang into line, and leaped, yelled, and stamped as enthusiastically as any of them, splitting his new garments to pieces, and presenting a very sorry sight when his excitement had died away.

The illustration opposite represents a portion of a party of warriors as they appear when performing their war dance. Only the first three ranks of them are seen; but the reader must picture for himself the long lines of warriors stretching into the distance, numbering often from one to two hundred. The leading chief is seen in front, with his green jade merai in his hand; and another but inferior chief is stationed behind him. In the background is shown a portion of the pah in which the dance is taking place; a chief’s storehouse for food is seen on the right, and under the shelter of the houses are seated the women who are watching the dance.

I have already said that war is always in the thoughts of a genuine Maori. Unlike the vaporing Fiji warrior, who is always ready to boast, and seldom ready to fight, preferring to knock his enemy on the head when asleep, the Maori is a brave soldier, accustomed from his earliest childhood to deeds of war. A mimic war forms one of the favorite games of the Maori children, though it is necessarily restricted to boys. Just as boys of our country build snow castles, and attack and defend them with snow-balls, so do the young New Zealanders build miniature forts, and enact on a small scale the deeds of actual war, using light sticks instead of the merai and patu. They make their forts by erecting mounds of earth, and building the fortresses of stakes, in exact imitation of the more substantial architecture of the veritable pah.

These ingenious pahs well exemplify the whole system of Maori warfare. The two opposing parties seldom meet each other in the open ground, as is the case with European warfare; neither do they employ an irregular skirmishing fight among trees or under cover, as is the case with many savage tribes. The attacking party is sure to be very superior in numbers to their foes, and the latter, knowing that this will be the case, resort to the system of fortification, and entrench themselves in forts, or pahs.

These pahs are marvellous examples of uncivilized engineering, and are admirably adapted to the purpose which they are intended to fulfil. They are always placed in some strong situation, sometimes on the seashore, sometimes on heights, and one or two of the strongest are built on the very edge of a perpendicular precipice, so that they cannot be attacked on three sides, while the fourth can only be approached by a narrow and awkward path, along which only a few men can pass, and which can be defended by a comparatively limited number of the besieged. (See p. 830.)

Taking one of these pahs is really a great enterprise for the natives, and before they knew the use of firearms it is wonderful that they ever took a pah at all. Many of them are indeed impregnable, and, until firearms were introduced into the colony, could bid defiance to all enemies. They were so situated that by merely rolling stones down the approach the path could be cleared of every foe. They are surrounded with trenches, and have ingenious sally-ports so constructed that the defenders can issue from unexpected parts of the fort, make a sudden attack on the assailants, and retreat through the same aperture when they have attained their purpose.

They are fenced round with very strong posts, lashed together so firmly that they are able to resist any ordinary attack. Since firearms were introduced, the Maories have modified the structure of the pahs to suit their new weapons, throwing out angles to secure a flanking fire, and filling the interior with trenches in which the defenders can lie secure from the fire of the enemy. Since they learned the terrible power of shells, the natives have learned to construct “traverses,” i. e. cross-walls in the trenches, which not only guard the inmates from the fragments of the shells, but prevent an enfilading fire from doing much damage. Rifle-pits are also constructed with singular ingenuity. One pah was remarkable for being built over a number of boiling springs, which were used as traps for the enemy when the fort was besieged.

The reader may remember the unfortunate business at the Gate Pah, at Tauranga. When taken by storm, the pah appeared to be empty and deserted, the natives having apparently escaped, according to their custom, when they found the place no longer tenable. They had, however, laid a trap, into which the assailants fell. When the latter had scattered themselves over the interior, and were quite off their guard, picking up arms, utensils, and other objects lying carelessly about, a terrific musketry fire was opened from under their very feet, the natives having constructed pits in which they hid themselves until the enemy were attracted within their range by the weapons and implements which they had laid on purpose to act as a bait. The men, who were entirely off their guard, and many of whom besides were but raw recruits, were struck with a sudden panic, and, with a few honorable exceptions, rushed out of the pah, followed and cut up by the fire of the wily foe.

Of course the repulse was but temporary; but such a stratagem as this is sufficient to show the military genius of the Maori, who, if he becomes an enemy, is one that cannot be despised with impunity. This system of taking the enemy by surprise is the usual mode of fighting among the Maories, who display wonderful ingenuity in contriving ambushes, and enticing the enemy into them. When we were first driven into war with the natives of New Zealand, we were frequently entrapped in an ambuscade; and in one case the hidden enemy were so close to our men, their dusky forms being hidden in the shadows of the bush, that many of the soldiers who escaped with life had their faces completely tattooed with grains of unburnt powder from the muskets of the enemy.

If the assailants succeed in taking the pah, a terrible massacre always ensues. Every man is killed who is capable of wielding a weapon, while the women and children are carried off to become the slaves of the conquerors--a doom from which, as I have already stated, there is no escape; the unfortunate women, their children, and any future offspring, being slaves without the possibility of release, not even their own tribe being able, according to Maori law, to interfere with the right of the captors.

The bodies of the warriors are of course reserved to be baked and eaten. Sometimes even the prisoners fall victims to the thirst for blood which characterizes these islanders; and in this respect the women are as bad as the men, if not worse. For example, the principal wife of a very great chief, named E’Hongi, was accustomed, even though blind, to murder some of the captives, when they were brought home by her formidable husband. Her own end was, however, more tragic than that of any of her victims. E’Hongi was in the habit of making long excursions to different parts of the country, in which he took his wife with him. On one of these excursions she fell sick, and had to be left behind. In consequence of her blindness, added to her debility, she was unable to act in her own defence, and a number of dogs, discovering her weakness, tore her to pieces and devoured her.

She seems, however, to have been a woman of unexceptionally strong feelings of vengeance. “She had,” writes Mr. Angas, “a little slave-girl to attend upon her, toward whom she evinced a strong attachment. The little creature was interesting and good-tempered, and her mistress was apparently so fond of her that she was spared the experience of the misery of slavery; she was only a favorite.

“Hongi returned from one of his successful expeditions of war, but had left a son upon the field of battle, and the lamentation was great. The petted slave-child laid her head upon the lap of her mistress, and poured out her share of the general sorrow. But the spirit of vengeance or of insane retribution came over the heart of the bereaved mother; and she carried the child to the water, and cruelly suffocated her in satisfaction of her selfish sorrow.”

It was not long after this incident that she met with her death. When she was left behind, a small shed was erected on poles, according to native custom, and a supply of food was placed near her. When the party returned the shed was lying prostrate, and among its ruins were the whitened bones of the inmate. It is supposed that the wind blew down the shed, and so enabled the dogs to reach her.

This same E’Hongi was a really remarkable man, and earned a great name for wisdom and courage. Having made a voyage to England, he threw all his energies into strengthening his military power, and took back with him a quantity of muskets and ammunition.

He came back to his own country exactly at the proper time. A long and somewhat desultory war had been going on between the Waikatos and other tribes, in which the former had, after many vicissitudes, been victorious, and, after finally conquering their enemies, had returned to their country in triumph.

Just then E’Hongi came back to his own tribe, the Nga Puis, distributed his firearms among the best warriors, and when he had instructed them in the use of the new and terrible weapons, entered the Waikato country, and attacked their great pah called Matuketuke. The Waikatos, having only their clubs, and not having sunk the trenches which in these days are dug in every pah that is intended to resist an assault, could not contend against firearms, and in a few minutes the fort was taken. It was in this engagement that Horomona and Te Whero-Whero were captured.

The slaughter on this occasion was terrible, two thousand warriors being killed, and their bodies eaten by the victorious tribe, who built vast numbers of ovens for the special purpose of cooking the bodies of the slain. For many years afterward the remains of the ovens, and the whitened bones of the two thousand warriors, might be seen as tokens of the terrible scene, where feasts were kept up until all the bodies had been consumed, and every evil passion of unrestrained human nature was allowed to have its full sway.

One of the very muskets which were used on this occasion, and which was given by George IV. to E’Hongi when he visited England, is now in the collection of Colonel Sir. J. E. Alexander. It is one of the regular “Brown Bess” weapons, once so dear to soldiers, and now irreverently termed a gaspipe.

Prisoners without number were captured on this occasion; and indeed the supply of slaves thus obtained so far exceeded the demand for them, that the Nga Puis killed many of them on their journey home, merely to rid themselves of them. E’ Hongi, though known to be a man of the most determined courage, not to say ferocity, when engaged in war, and rather disposed to behave in an overbearing manner toward those whom he considered as his inferiors, was at the same time peculiarly mild and courteous in his demeanor to his equals, and toward strangers was remarkable for his gentle courtesy.

There was another very celebrated chief of a somewhat similar name, Hongi-Hongi, who has sometimes been confounded with his great predecessor. One feat of this warrior is so characteristic that it deserves mention. He was leading an attack on a pah near Mount Egmont, captured it, and, according to custom, killed the warriors, and took the rest of the inmates as his slaves. Sixty of these unfortunate beings fell to the share of Hongi, who drove them like a flock of sheep, with his green jade merai, all the way to his home, a distance of one hundred and eighty miles.

This chief was proof against the missionaries of all kinds. Mr. Angas once asked him whether he was a mihanari, i. e. a Protestant convert, or a pikopo, i. e. a Roman Catholic. Hongi denied that he was either one or the other, and confessed with glee that he was a revera, or devil, i. e. that he still remained a heathen.

It is very unfortunate that intolerance in religious matters has been fostered by those who ought to have made it their business to repress any such feeling. The consequence is, that the Protestant converts regard their Roman Catholic brethren as reveras, or devils, while the latter have allied themselves with their acknowledged heathen countrymen; and thus, under the pretence of religion, the customary feuds are kept up with perhaps even additional bitterness.

I have the pleasure of presenting to the reader, on the 820th page, a portrait of Hongi-Hongi, as he appeared in the year 1844, dressed in his full panoply of war costume. This, of course, would be doffed before he went into actual fight. In his ear is one of the green jade ornaments which have already been described, and in his right hand he bears his merai, the celebrated weapon with which he drove the slaves before him. He is represented as standing just inside the wall of his pah, a position which he insisted on taking up, and having his portrait drawn to send to the Queen of England. In fact, he was so decided on this point, that he refused to let Mr. Angas leave the pah until the portrait was completed. The portion of the pah which is shown in the illustration gives a good idea of this kind of fortification, the enormous posts with their circular tops being sunk deeply into the ground, and smaller posts placed between them; a horizontal pole is laid across them; and the whole is firmly lashed together, either with the ordinary phormium rope, or with the stem of the wild vine.

Warfare among the Maories, fierce and relentless as it may be in some particulars, is not devoid of a sort of chivalry which somewhat relieves it from its more ferocious aspect. There is, for example, a well-known code of military etiquette which is sometimes exhibited in a mode that to us seems rather ludicrous.

For example, the Waikatos and Taranaki tribes were at war as usual, and the Waikato were besieging a pah belonging to their enemies. The pah, however, was too strong for them; and moreover the defenders had contrived to get hold of several guns belonging to a vessel that had been wrecked on the shore, and had induced some Europeans to mount and work them, which they did with such success that the Waikatos were forced at last to abandon the siege.

But, in the very midst of the contest, a vessel appeared in the offing, and a truce was immediately concluded in order to allow both parties to trade. Accordingly, both the besiegers and besieged set off amicably to the vessel, and, having completed their bargains, returned to resume their hostilities. A very amusing scene then occurred. The Taranakis, who were the besieged party, had much the best of the trading, as they possessed a large quantity of dressed flax, or phormium, and exchanged it for a quantity of tobacco.

Now tobacco is one of the greatest luxuries that a New Zealander can possess; and unfortunately for the besieging Waikatos, they had no tobacco. They had, however, a plentiful supply of muskets, which they had taken in an attack upon another pah, while the besieged were very short of arms. So they struck up a trade, the Waikatos being so inordinately desirous of obtaining tobacco, that they gave in return fire-arms which were to be turned against themselves.

“The scene,” writes Mr. Angas, “as described by an eye-witness, must have been most ludicrous. The Waikato thrust his musket half-way through the palisades of the pah, retaining, however, a firm hold of his property until the intending purchaser from within thrust out in a similar manner the quantity of tobacco he was willing to give; neither party relinquishing his hold of the property about to change hands until he had secured a firm grasp of that offered by his adversary.”

The chief who led the Waikatos on this occasion was the celebrated Wiremu Nera, or William Taylor; the former name being the nearest approach that the Maories can make to the proper pronunciation. His Maori name was Te Awaitaia, and he was widely celebrated for his dauntless courage and his generalship in conducting or resisting an attack. Being closely allied with the famous chief Te Whero-Whero (or Potatau), he was engaged in nearly all the combats between the Waikatos and the Taranakis. On one of his warlike expeditions he took a pah containing nearly eighteen hundred inhabitants, and, of course, killed nearly all of them, and carried the survivors as slaves into the Waikato district.

Latterly, he embraced Christianity, and became as zealous in the cause of peace as he had been in that of war. When he became a Christian, Te Whero-Whero was so well aware of his value as a warrior, that he exclaimed to those who brought him the news, “I have lost my right arm!”

Although repulsed on this occasion by the three guns taken from the wrecked ship, the Waikatos were not discouraged, and made a second attack. The Taranakis, however, had seen too much of Waikato courage to risk a second siege, and so quietly made off, some two thousand in number, accompanied by the Europeans who had served the guns for them. The latter very rightly spiked the guns when they left the pah, so that when the Waikatos came again and took the pah, they found it deserted, and the guns useless to the captors.

The Taranakis lived in deadly fear of the powerful and warlike Waikatos, and, but for the love which they felt toward their native country, would have fled, and left the conquerors to take quiet possession. They were even obliged to have their plantations in the bush, where none but the owner could find them; for they feared, and with reason, that if their dreaded enemies could discover the sources whence their provisions were obtained, they would destroy the whole plantation, and leave their victims to starve. They were in such a state of nervous alarm about a suspected invasion by their powerful neighbors, that on one occasion, when a fire was seen in the distance, every one took it for granted to be a fire lighted by the Waikatos, and in consequence every one kept awake all night, ready to give the alarm at the first unwonted sight or sound.

Among the New Zealanders is a custom of retaliation which is found with but little variation in many parts of the world. If blood has been shed, the friends of the dead man issue from the pah, with the determination of killing the first person whom they may happen to meet. Should he belong to an inimical tribe, so much the better; should he belong to the same tribe, so much the worse; for in either case he is killed. On such an occasion one of the avengers would be bound to kill his own brother, should he happen to be the first man who came in the way of the party.

Such an exercise of vengeance is rather an inconvenient one to those who are engaged in it; for they are forbidden the use of their ordinary comforts, they may not eat any food except that which is indigenous to New Zealand, and, above all, they are not allowed to smoke. When, therefore they have been unable to find any human being whom they can sacrifice, the aid of the priest, or tohunga, is called in. He pulls up a tuft of grass, and, after repeating one of the many incantations which abound in New Zealand lore, and of which neither the hearers nor the reciter understand one word in ten, he throws the grass into the nearest stream, in token that the avengers are released from their vow. Blood, however, must still be shed; but after this ceremony has been performed, the blood of any living thing, even though it be a bird, is held sufficient to satisfy the traditional custom of the Maori race.

Elaborate rites closely allied with this ceremony are employed both before and after battle; but, as they belong rather to the subject of religion than of war, we will postpone them for the present.

As the New Zealanders know that it is a point of military honor combined with personal gratification to eat the bodies of slain enemies, they are equally desirous of securing the bodies of their foes and of carrying off those who have fallen on their own side; and in many instances the anxiety to save those who have fallen has caused others to share the same fate while attempting to carry off their dead or wounded comrades.

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LXXXIV. NEW ZEALAND--Continued

CANOES.

THE CANOE, AND ITS USES IN PEACE AND WAR -- THE COMMON TRADING CANOE -- SKILL OF THE BOATMEN -- THE LARGE WAR CANOES, AND MODE OF BUILDING THEM -- DECORATIONS OF THE CANOES -- SKILFUL CARVINGS -- THE THEORY OF THE VARIOUS PATTERNS -- NAMES OF CANOES -- MANAGEMENT OF THE SAIL -- CANOE SONGS -- A COMPLETE BOAT-LOAD -- MODE OF LANDING -- SHAPE OF THE PADDLES, AND MODE OF USING THEM -- CARVING TOOLS -- SUPPOSED COMPASSES.

War is carried on quite as much by water as by land, and a chief who knows the principles of good generalship always uses the sea as well as the land to serve as a basis for his attack. For this reason the Maories take care to build their pahs in spots where they are well defended from attack both on the seaward and the landward side. Some of them are on the very verge of high-water mark, while others are perched on the tops of cliffs, the base of which is washed by the waves.

One of the most picturesque of these is a pah situate near Mount Egmont, and known by the name of the Waimate Pah. There is a cliff that rises perpendicularly some four or five hundred feet above the level of the water which laves its foot, and on the very summit of this cliff is situated the pah in question. It is of considerable size, containing many houses and is fortified with the usual wooden fence. In order to render it as nearly as possible impregnable, the only approach is by a very narrow and very steep path, that cannot be ascended except by people who have strong heads, the path being so narrow, so steep, and so dangerous that two men could defend it against fifty.

In his warlike expeditions E’Hongi made great use of his canoes, taking them inland as far as they would go, and then having them dragged over land to the next river.

These canoes play so important a part in the life of a New Zealander, whether in war or peace, that they require a detailed description. The canoes are of several kinds, according to the work which they have to perform. The simplest form of the New Zealander’s canoe is little more than a trunk of a tree hollowed into a sort of trough. Being incapable of withstanding rough weather, this canoe is only used upon rivers. Some of these canoes, which are called by the name of kaupapas, are from forty to fifty feet in length, and in the widest part not exceeding a yard in “beam.” A plentiful supply of fern leaves is laid at the bottom of the canoe, and upon these the passengers recline. Canoes of a similar character, called tiwai, are used in the inland lakes, and sit so low in the water that they appear to have no gunwale.

Owing to their want of beam, these canoes are as easily upset as the slight skiffs in which races are rowed on English rivers. The agile Maori, accustomed from childhood to balance himself in these crank vessels, traverses them with ease and security, but an European generally upsets four or five canoes before he learns how to enter or leave them properly. The natives manage these canoes with wonderful skill, and, apparently regardless of the risk of capsizing the canoe, dash their paddles into the water with furious energy, driving up spray on all sides, and making the canoe and its rowers look at a distance like some gigantic centipede dashing through the water.

The vessels, however, of which the Maories are most fond, and on which they expend the most labor, are the large canoes in which the warriors embark when on a campaign. Those canoes are made from the cowrie pine (the same tree which furnishes the aromatic gum already mentioned); and the tree being a very large one, the natives are able to make their canoes of considerable size. Some of these canoes are upward of eighty feet in length and in consequence are able to carry a great number of warriors.

They are built in rather an elaborate manner. First the trough-like vessel is formed from the tree trunk; and if it were left in that state, it would be simply a very large kaupapa. As, however, it is intended for sea voyages, and may have to endure rough weather; it is much wider in proportion than the boat which is only used on rivers, and is, moreover, rendered more seaworthy by gunwales. These are made separately, and are lashed firmly to the sides of the boat by the ordinary flax ropes.

Both the head and stern of the canoe are decorated with carving, exactly similar in character to the specimens of native art which have already been described. They are pierced with the most elaborate patterns, which have as their basis the contour of the human countenance and the semi-spiral curve. Perhaps a single canoe head will have fifty or sixty human faces on it, each with the tongue protruded, with the cheeks and forehead covered with tattooed lines, and with a pair of goggle eyes made of the haliotis shell. The mode which a native adopts when carving these elaborate patterns is as follows:

After shaping out the general form of the article to be carved, he fixes on some part which he thinks will be suitable for the purpose, and carves a human head upon it. When this is completed, he pitches upon a second spot at some distance from the first, and carves another head, proceeding in this way until he has carved as many heads as he thinks the pattern will require.

He next furnishes the heads with bodies and limbs, which are always represented in a very squat and ungainly manner, and fills in the vacant spaces with the beautiful curved lines which he loves so well to draw and carve. The minute elaboration of some of these war canoes is so intricate that it baffles all power of description, and nothing but a well executed photograph could give a correct idea of the beauty of the workmanship. It is a marvellous example of the development of art under difficulties. It is quite unique in its character, so that no one who is acquainted with the subject can for a moment mistake a piece of New Zealand carving for that of any other country.

Besides carving the canoes, the Maori paints them with vermilion in token of their warlike object, and decorates them profusely with bunches of feathers and dog’s hair, just like the tufts which are attached to the patu. When the canoes are not wanted, they are drawn up on shore, and are thatched in order to save them from the weather.

Like more civilized nations, the New Zealanders give names to their canoes, and seem to delight in selecting the most sonorous titles that they can invent. For example, one canoe is called Maratuhai, i. e. Devouring Fire; and others have names that coincide almost exactly with our Invincibles, Terribles, Thunderers, and the like.

These boats are furnished with a very remarkable sail made of the raupo rush. It is small in proportion to the size of the vessel, is triangular in shape, and is so arranged that it can be raised or lowered almost in a moment. They are better sailors than would be imagined from their appearance, and run wonderfully close to the wind.

Sometimes from fifty to sixty men paddle in one of these war canoes, singing songs in time to the stroke, and guided both in song and stroke by a conductor who stands in the middle of the canoe, prompting the words of the song, and beating time for the paddlers with a staff which he holds in his hand. Owing to the power of the water in reflecting sound, the measured chant of the paddle-song can be heard on a river long before the canoe comes in sight.

Mr. Angas gives an interesting account of a journey in a Maori canoe. After mentioning that the vessel was so deeply laden that its sides were not more than two inches above the water, he proceeds as follows: “The paddles were plied with great spirit; the exertions of the natives being stimulated by the animated shouting song kept up incessantly by the one or other of the party. At length the splashing was so violent that we became nearly drenched, and on requesting the Maori before us to throw less water in our faces, he replied with a proverb common among them, that ‘No one is dry who travels with the Waikatos,’ meaning that the people of this tribe excel all others in the speed and dexterity with which they manage their canoes.

“Our natives were in excellent spirits. They had been on a long journey to Auckland, where they had seen the pakeha (white man, or stranger) in his settlement, and had witnessed many sights of civilization to which they were previously strangers. They had also purchased articles of European manufacture, and longing to return home to the peaceful banks of the Waipa, to present them to their friends as tokens of their regard. Their wild, deafening songs, with their heads all undulating at every stroke, the contortions of their eyes, and their bare, tawny shoulders, finely developing their muscles as they all dashed their paddles simultaneously into the water, rendered the scene at once novel and animating.

“The canoe songs are generally improvised, and frequently have reference to passing objects. Such ejaculations as the following were uttered by our companions at the highest pitch of their voices, ‘Pull away! Pull away! Pull away!’ ‘Dig into the water!’ ‘Break your backs,’ &c. From the prow of one of the canoes a native flute sounded plaintively. This is a very rude and imperfect instrument, and they do not play it with any degree of skill, it having only two or three notes.” The flute in question is that which is made of human bone, and has been described on a previous page. It is played by placing the orifice against one nostril, and stopping the other with the finger.

When the natives proceed on a journey in their canoes, they are so sure of their own skill and management that they overload them to a degree which would cause an immediate capsize in most countries. One chief, named Wirihona, who was travelling with his family, afforded a curious example of overloading a boat with impunity. The canoe was delicate and frail, and in the bow sat a little boy with a small fire kept between two pieces of bark. In the fore part of the canoe, where it was narrow, sat the younger children, the adult members of the family being placed in the middle, where the boat was widest. Toward the stern came another batch of young children, and on the stern, which projects over the water, sat Wirihona himself, steering the vessel with his paddle.

The canoe in which were Mr. Angas and his companions was, as the reader may recollect, so laden that her gunwale barely rose two inches above the surface. As long as they were paddling along the narrower and more sheltered parts of the river, all went smoothly enough, though the deeply-laden state of the crank boat gave cause for uneasiness. At last, however, they came to some wide and open reaches exposed to the wind, and had, moreover, to cross the current diagonally.

“The wind blew violently, and meeting the current, caused an unpleasant sea in the middle channel of the river. Our heavily-laden canoe was not fitted to encounter anything beyond still water; and, as our natives related to each other where this and that canoe were upset, they dashed their paddles into the water with all their energy, and our bark was soon in the midst of the terrible current. We were every moment in imminent danger of being swamped; the water rushed in on both sides; and nothing but the extreme swiftness with which we glided through the current prevented us from filling.

“As the canoe dashed against the opposite shore, our natives gave a loud shout and commenced bailing out the water, which we had shipped in great quantities, with a tatau or scoop. We now looked anxiously toward the second canoe, and watched them literally pulling for their lives, splashing and dashing with the utmost vehemence. The frail bark appeared almost swallowed up by the angry stream, but she glided securely through it, and the drenched chief and his family repeated the sound of welcome to the opposite shore, as their canoe also dashed in safety against its banks.”

The paddles with which the Maories propel their canoes are curious-looking implements, and are so formed that they will answer almost equally well as paddles or weapons. Indeed, it is not unlikely that their peculiar shape was given to them for this very reason. In the illustration No. 1, on page 881, are seen two examples of the New Zealand paddle, both being drawn from specimens in my collection, and being useful as showing the typical form of the implement.

They are rather more than five feet in length, and have very long blades which are leaf-shaped and sharply pointed at the tips, so that a thrust from one of these paddles would be quite as dangerous as if it were made with the butt of the patu. The blade, too, is sharp at the edges, and, being made of rather heavy wood, is capable of splitting a man’s skull as effectually as if it had been the short merai.

In one of these paddles the handle is curved in a peculiar manner, while in the other it is straight, and forms a continuation of the blade. The former of these implements is quite plain, and even at the end of the handle there is no carving, while the latter is liberally adorned with patterns both on the blade and handle, and at their junction there is the inevitable human figure with the protruding tongue, the goggle eyes, and the generally aggressive expression that characterizes all such figures. None of the New Zealand paddles are adorned with the minute and elaborate carving which is found upon the paddles of several of the Polynesian islands. The carving of the New Zealanders is of a far different and much bolder character; and, instead of covering his paddle with small patterns repeated some hundreds of times, the Maori carves nothing but bold, sweeping curves and imitations of the human face.

As far as is known, the Maori carver makes no use of measuring tools, doing all his work by the eye alone. He does not even use compasses in describing his circles; and in consequence, whenever he carves, as is often the case, a number of concentric circles on a rafter or beam, the circles are quite undeserving of the name, and always tend rather to an irregular oval form.

There is in my collection a remarkable instrument, presented to me by C. Heaton, Esq. It bears a label with the following inscription, “A New Zealand Compass, by which the natives turn the volute in their carving.” In shape it resembles one half of a parenthesis [Illustration], and is armed at each point with a shark’s tooth, which is inserted into a groove, and then lashed firmly with a cord passing through holes bored in the tooth and through the semicircular handle. It is made of the same wood as the paddle. Having, as I have already stated, abundant reason to distrust the accuracy of labels, and thinking that the curves of New Zealand carving did not possess the regularity which would accompany them had they been sketched out by an instrument, I showed the tool to several observant travellers who have spent much time in New Zealand, and asked them if they recognized it. None of them had seen the implement. Mr. Christie, who gave much attention to the manufactures of New Zealand, knew nothing about it, and Mr. Angas, who visited the island for the express purpose of collecting information respecting the Maories, and to whose pen I am indebted for nearly all the illustrations of the life and manners of the New Zealanders, had never seen or heard of such a tool. I possess many specimens of New Zealand carving, and have seen many others, together with a great number of photographs, and in no case have I noticed a single circle or portion of a circle that was regular enough to have been drawn by the aid of compasses.

I even doubt whether this article was made in New Zealand at all, and am inclined to think that it belongs to the Tonga or the Kingsmill Islands. As to its use, I have no opinion.

In propelling these canoes, the New Zealander holds his paddle in both hands, and always keeps it on the same side of the vessel, being balanced by a companion on the other side. He employs no rowlock, but uses one hand as a fulcrum near the blade, while the other holds the handle nearer the tip. The boat is steered by means of a large paddle in the stern.

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LXXXV. NEW ZEALAND--Continued

RELIGION.

THE GOOD AND EVIL INFLUENCES -- THE LIZARD ATUAS -- ALARM OF THE CHIEF -- MAORI PRAYERS -- DIFFICULTY IN TRANSLATING THEM -- THE SACRED LANGUAGE -- THE TOHUNGAS, OR PRIESTS -- BELIEF IN THE FUTURE STATE -- THE SACRED BRANCH -- THE MALEVOLENT SPIRITS -- HAUNTED MOUNTAINS -- THE TIKIS, OR SUPPOSED IDOLS OF THE MAORIES -- SOME GIGANTIC WOODEN TIKIS -- BELIEF IN WITCHCRAFT -- FATE OF A WITCH -- COUNTRY OF THE WIZARDS -- INCANTATION OVER THE SICK -- MAORI ANATOMISTS.

We now come to the religion of the Maories. This is a curious mixture of simplicity and elaboration, having the usual superstitions common to all savage tribes, and being complicated with the remarkable system of “tapu,” or “taboo,” as the word is sometimes spelt.

Of real religion they have no idea, and, so far as is known, even their superstitions lack that infusion of sublimity which distinguishes the religious system of many savage nations. They have a sort of indefinite belief in a good and evil influence; the former going by the generic name of Atua, and the latter of Wairua. Now, Atua is a word that has a peculiar significance of its own. It may signify the Divine Essence, or it may be applied to any object which is considered as a visible representative of that essence.

Thus, if a Maori wishes to speak of God, he would use the word Atua. But he would equally apply it to a lizard, a bird, a sun-ray, or a cloud. There is one species of lizard, of a lovely green color, called by the natives kakariki, which is held in the greatest veneration as a living representative of divinity, and is in consequence always dreaded as an atua. The belief which the natives hold on this subject is well shown by an anecdote told by Mr. Angas.

“The following incident will show how deeply the belief in witchcraft and the supposed influence of the atuas obtains among those who are still heathens. The missionary was shown some small green lizards preserved in a phial of spirits, Muriwenua and another man being in the room. We forgot at the moment that the little creatures in the phial were atuas, or gods, according to the superstitious belief of Maori polytheism, and inadvertently showed them to the man at the table.

“No sooner did he perceive the atuas than his Herculean frame shrank back as from a mortal wound, and his face displayed signs of extreme horror. The old chief, on discovering the cause, cried out, ‘I shall die! I shall die!’ and crawled away on his hands and knees; while the other man stood as a defence between the chief and the atuas, changing his position so as to form a kind of shield, till Muriwenua was out of the influence of their supposed power. It was a dangerous mistake to exhibit these atuas, for the chief is very old, and in the course of nature cannot live long, and, if he dies shortly, his death will certainly be ascribed to the baneful sight of the lizard gods, and I shall be accused of makutu or witchcraft.” In connection with this superstition about the lizard, the same traveller mentions a curious notion which prevails regarding a spider.

“On the beach of the west coast is found a small, black, and very venomous spider, called katipo by the natives. Its bite is exceedingly painful, and even dangerous, and the natives think that if the katipo bites a man and escapes, the man will die. But if he contrives to catch the spider, and makes a circle of fire round it so that it perishes in the flames, then the man recovers as the spider dies.”

The extent to which the imagination of the natives is excited by their fear of witchcraft is scarcely credible. There was one woman named Eko, who was the most celebrated witch of the Waikato district. She exercised extraordinary influence over the minds of the people, who looked upon her as a superior being. On one occasion, when angry with a man, she told him that she had taken out his heart. The man entirely believed her, and died from sheer terror.

Objects which they cannot understand are often considered by the Maories as atuas. Thus a compass is an atua, because it points in one direction, and directs the traveller by its invisible power. A barometer is an atua, because it foretells the weather. A watch is an atua, on account of the perpetual ticking and moving of the hands. Fire-arms used to be atuas until they came into common use, and lost the mystery which was at first attached to them.

Yet the Maori never addresses his prayers to any of these visible objects, but always to the invisible Atua of whom these are but the representatives. The prayers are almost entirely made by the priests or tohungas, and are a set form of words known only to the priests and those whom they instruct. The meaning of the prayers is often uncertain, owing to the obsolete words which are profusely employed in them, and of which, indeed, the prayer almost entirely consists. Prayers, or incantations, as they may perhaps be called with more precision, are made on almost every occasion of life, however trivial, and whether the Maori desires safety in a battle, a favorable wind when on the water, success in a campaign, or good luck in fishing, the tohunga is called upon to repeat the appropriate prayer. Many of these prayers or incantations have been preserved by Dr. Dieffenbach and others. One of these prayers, which can be more correctly translated than many of them, is uttered at the offering of a pigeon. It is designated as “A prayer that the pigeon may be pure, that it may be very fat: when the fire burns, the prayer is said.”

“When it is lighted, when it is lighted, the sacred fire, O Tiki! When it burns on the sacred morning, O give, O give, O Tiki, the fat. It burns for thee the fat of the pigeon; for thee the fat of the owl; for thee the fat of the parrot; for thee the fat of the flycatcher; for thee the fat of the thrush. A water of eels; where is its spring? Its spring is in heaven; sprinkle, give, be it poured out.”

Offerings of food are common rites of Maori native worship, and offerings are made of both vegetable and animal food. It is much to be regretted that very many of the ancient religious rites of the New Zealanders have perished, and that they have been entirely forgotten by the present generation. Such a loss as this can never be replaced, and the fact that it has occurred ought to make us the more careful in rescuing from speedy oblivion the expiring religious customs of other uncivilized nations.

Prayers, such as have been mentioned, are handed down by the tohungas or priests from father to son, and the youths undergo a long course of instruction before they can take rank among the priests. Dr. Dieffenbach was once fortunate enough to witness a portion of this instruction. “I was present at one of the lessons. An old priest was sitting under a tree, and at his feet was a boy, his relative, who listened attentively to the repetition of certain words, which seemed to have no meaning, but which it must have required a good memory to retain in their due order. At the old tohunga’s side was part of a man’s skull filled with water. Into this from time to time he dipped a green branch, which he moved over the boy’s head. At my approach the old man smiled, as if to say. ‘See how clever I am,’ and continued his abracadabra.

“I have been assured by the missionaries that many of these prayers have no meaning; but this I am greatly inclined to doubt. The words of the prayers are perhaps the remains of a language now forgotten; or, what is more probable, we find here what has existed among most of the nations of antiquity, even the most civilized, viz: that religious mysteries were confined to a certain class of men, who kept them concealed from the profanum vulgus, or communicated only such portions of them as they thought fit.

“They often had a sacred symbolic language, the knowledge of which was confined to the priesthood, as, for instance, the Egyptian hieroglyphics and the Sanscrit; or, if we look nearer home, we find the religion of Thor, Odin, and Freya enveloped in a poetical mythos, which has for its foundation deep and grand philosophical conceptions of morals and ethics.”

It is a rather curious fact that, contrary to the usual custom of heathen priests, the tohungas did not oppose the Christian missionaries, but were among the first to receive the new religion. Some of them seem to have received it too hastily and without sufficient knowledge of its principles, as we see from the miserable travesty of Christianity which has sprung up of late years among the Maories, and which is in New Zealand what the system of Taeping is in China.

The priests are, as a rule, the most expert artists and woodcarvers in the country; so that the word “tohunga” is often applied by the natives to a man who is skilful in any art, no matter whether he be a priest or not.

The illustration No. 1, on the 860th page, is a portrait of a very celebrated tohunga, taken by Mr. Angas in 1844. His name was Te Ohu. The portrait was obtained during a great meeting of chiefs at Aluahu. Te Ohu distinguished himself greatly on this occasion, running about after the fashion of Maori orators, shaking his long and grizzled locks from side to side, stamping furiously on the ground, and uttering his speech in a singularly deep and sonorous voice.

In the background of the sketch may be seen two remarkable articles. The one, which is the half of a canoe, stuck upright in the ground, marks the grave of a deceased chief; and the other is a pole, on which are hung a calabash of water and a basket of food, with which the spirit of the dead can refresh himself when he returns to visit the scene of his lifetime. Sometimes a dish of cooked pigeons is added; and in one case a model of a canoe, with its sail and paddles, was placed on the tomb, as a conveyance for the soul of the departed when he wished to cross the waters which lead to the eternal abodes of the spirit.

Concerning the state of the spirit after the death of the body the Maories seem to have very vague ideas. The sum of their notions on this subject is as follows:--They believe that the spirit of man is immortal, and that when it leaves the body it goes to the Reinga, or place of departed spirits. Shooting and falling stars are thought to be the souls of men going to this place. The entrance to the Reinga is down the face of a rocky cliff at Cape Maria Van Diemen. Lest the spirit should hurt itself by falling down this precipice, there is a very old tree which grows there, on which the spirits break their fall. One particular branch was pointed out as being the portion of the tree on which the spirits alighted.

One of the missionaries cut off this branch, and in consequence the natives do not regard it with quite so much awe as they did in former days. Still Dr. Dieffenbach remarks that, when he visited the islands, they held the spot in great veneration, and not even the Christian natives would go near it.

All spirits do not enter the Reinga in the same manner, those of chiefs ascending first the upper heavens, where they leave the left eye, which becomes a new star. For this reason, if a chief is killed in war, his left eye is eaten by the chief of the victorious party, who thinks that he has thus incorporated into his own being the courage, skill, and wisdom of the dead man.

Spirits are not considered as imprisoned in the Reinga, but are able to leave it when they please, and to return to the scene of their former life. They can also hold converse with their friends and relatives, but only through the tohungas. Sometimes, but very rarely, the tohunga sees the spirit; and even then it is only visible as a sunbeam or a shadow. The voice of the spirit is a sort of low whistling sound, like a slight breeze, and is sometimes heard by others beside the tohunga. He, however, is the only one who can understand the mysterious voice and can interpret the wishes of the dead to the living.

As to the life led by departed spirits, the Maories seem to have no idea; neither do they seem to care. They have a notion that in Reinga the kumeras, or sweet potatoes, abound; but beyond that tradition they appear to know nothing.

As to the malevolent spirits, or wairuas, the same cloudy indefiniteness of ideas seems to prevail. The word wairua signifies either the soul or a dream, and is mostly used to signify the spirit of some deceased person who desires to act malevolently toward the living. Such spirits are supposed to haunt certain spots, which are in consequence avoided by the New Zealander. Mountains are especial objects of his veneration, and those which are lofty enough to have their tops covered with perpetual snow are specially feared. He fancies that they are inhabited by strange and monstrous animals, that fierce birds of huge size sit continually on their whitened tops, and that every breeze which blows from them is the voice of the spirit which haunts it.

In consequence of these superstitions, the natives can no more be induced to ascend one of these mountains than to approach a burial ground. They have a curious legend about the Tongariro and Mount Egmont, saying that they were originally brother and sister, and lived together, but that they afterward quarrelled and separated. There is another strange legend of a spot near Mount Egmont. Owing to the nature of the ground, a strong chemical action is constantly taking place, which gives out great quantities of sulphuretted hydrogen gas. The natives say that in former days an Atua was drowned near the spot, and that ever since that time his body has been decomposing.

As to the idols of the New Zealanders, it is very doubtful whether they ever existed. There are, it is true, many representations of the human form, which are popularly supposed to be idols. It was formerly supposed that the green jade ornaments, called “tikis,” which are worn suspended from the neck, were idols; but it is now known that they are merely ornaments, deriving their sole value from being handed down from one generation to another.

Three examples of the so-called idols are here given. One of them is remarkable for its gigantic proportions and curious shape. It is about sixteen feet in height, and instead of consisting of a single human figure, as is usually the case, the enormous block of wood is carved into the semblance of two figures, one above the other. This arrangement is not uncommon in New Zealand, and is found also in Western Africa. I possess a walking staff of both countries, which are composed of several human figures, each upon the other’s head. The New Zealand staff will be presently described and figured.

This gigantic tiki stands, together with several others, near the tomb of the daughter of Te Whero-Whero, and, like the monument which it seems as it were to guard, is one of the finest examples of native carving to be found in New Zealand. The precise object of the tiki is uncertain; but the protruding tongue of the upper figure seems to show that it is one of the numerous defiant statues which abound in the islands. The natives say that the lower figure represents Maui, the Atua who, according to Maori tradition, fished up the islands from the bottom of the sea.

As may be seen in the illustration No. 2, on the preceding page, nearly the whole of both figures is carved with most elaborate curved patterns, which descend over the arms, and adorn those parts of the statue which do duty for hips. A portion of the paling of Raroera Pah is seen in the background, and around the tiki grow many plants of the phormium, or New Zealand flax.

Near this wonderful and mysterious piece of carving stand several others, all of the ordinary type. Two such tikis are shown in the illustration No. 3, opposite, drawn from sketches taken at Whakapokoko. Although not quite so large as the double tiki of Raroera, they are of very great size, as may be seen by contrasting them with the figure of the woman who is standing by one of them.

The firmest belief in witchcraft prevails in New Zealand, though not to such an extent as in many parts of Africa. In cases of illness for which no ordinary cause can be discovered, especially if the patient be of high rank, “makuta,” or witchcraft, is always suspected. If a chief, for example, fancies that he has been bewitched, he thinks over the names of those who are likely to have a spite against him, and pitches upon some unfortunate individual, who is thereby doomed to death. One curious example of such a murder is related by Mr. Angas.

He met a party of natives, who told him that a woman, a relation of the chief Ngawaka, had been shot by another chief, who suspected that she had bewitched his son. The young man had been taken ill, and, though the woman in question did her best to cure him, he died. His father took it into his head that she had killed him by her incantations, and, after loading his musket with a stick, shot her through the body. As, however, she was the relation of Ngawaka, it was expected that the chief would demand compensation for her death, and that the murderer would have to pay a very heavy sum. This sort of compensation is called “taua.”

There are several modes of witchcraft; but that which is most practised is performed by digging a hole in the ground and invoking the spirit of the person who is to be bewitched. After the incantations are said, the invoked spirit appears above the hole like a flickering light, and is then solemnly cursed by the witch. Sometimes, instead of digging a hole, the witch goes by night to the river bank, and there invokes the spirit, who appears as a flame of fire on the opposite bank.

Dr. Dieffenbach gives rather a curious account of a district named Urewera, which is supposed to be the special abode of witches. It is situated in the northern island, between Taupo and Hawkes’ Bay, and consists of steep and barren hills. The inhabitants of this district are few and scattered, and have the reputation of being the greatest witches in the country.

“They are much feared, and have little connection with the neighboring tribes, who avoid them, if possible. If they come to the coast, the natives there scarcely venture to refuse them anything, for fear of incurring their displeasure. They are said to use the saliva of the people whom they intend to bewitch, and visitors carefully conceal it, to give them no opportunity of working them evil. Like our witches and sorcerers of old, they appear to be a very harmless people, and but little mixed up with the quarrels of their neighbors.

“It is a curious fact that many of the old settlers in the country have become complete converts to the belief in these supernatural powers. Witchcraft has been the cause of many murders: a few days before I arrived at Aotea, on the western coast, three had been committed, in consequence of people declaring on their deathbeds that they had been bewitched....

“It is another curious fact, which has been noticed in Tahiti, Hawaii, and the islands inhabited by the great Polynesian race, that their first intercourse with Europeans produces civil wars and social degradation, but that a change of ideas is quickly introduced, and that the most ancient and deeply-rooted prejudices soon become a subject of ridicule to the natives, and are abolished at once. The grey priest, or tohunga, deeply versed in all the mysteries of witchcraft and native medical treatment, gives way in his attendance on the sick to every European who pretends to a knowledge of the science of surgery or medicine, and derides the former credulity of his patient.

“If a chief or his wife fall sick, the most influential tohunga, or a woman who has the odor of sanctity, attends, and continues day and night with the patient, sometimes repeating incantations over him, and sometimes sitting before the house and praying. The following is an incantation which is said by the priest as a cure for headache. He pulls out two stalks of the Pteris esculenta, from which the fibres of the root must be removed, and, beating them together over the head of the patient, says this chant.”--The chant in question is as unintelligible as those which have already been mentioned. Its title is “A prayer for the dead (i. e. the sick man) when his head aches: to Atua this prayer is prayed, that he, the sick man, may become well.”

When a chief is ill, his relations assemble near the house and all weep bitterly, the patient taking his part in the general sorrowing; and when all the weeping and mourning has been got out of one village, the patient is often carried to another, where the whole business is gone over again. Should the sick person be of an inferior class, he goes off to the bush, and remains there until he is well again, choosing the neighborhood of a hot spring if he can find one, or, if no such spring is at hand, infusing certain herbs in boiling water and inhaling the steam.

As may be imagined from the practice which they have in cutting up the dead for their cannibal feasts, the Maories are good practical anatomists, and know well the position of all the principal organs and vessels of the body. Consequently, they can operate in cases of danger, using sharp-edged shells if they have no knives. They can also set broken limbs well, bringing the broken surfaces together, binding the limb with splints, laying it on a soft pillow, and surrounding it with a wickerwork contrivance in order to guard it against injury.

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LXXXVI. NEW ZEALAND--Continued

THE TAPU.

THE TAPU, OR LAW OF PROHIBITION -- TAPU A SUBSTITUTE FOR GOVERNMENT -- PROTECTION TO PROPERTY AND MORALS -- ABUSE OF THE TAPU -- THE CHIEF AND THE SAILOR -- THE CHIEF AND HIS MAT -- A VALUABLE SPLINTER -- THE HEAD OF THE CHIEF -- AN UNLUCKY MISTAKE -- HOW TAONUI GOT HIS ARMOR -- HAIR CUTTING -- TROUBLES OF AN ARTIST -- THE CARVED HEAD -- TE-WHERO-WHERO AND HIS PORTRAIT -- THE TAPU MOUNTAIN -- BANEFUL EFFECTS OF THE TAPU ON NATIVE ART -- DESTRUCTION OF THE PAHS AND HOUSES -- THE TERMINABLE TAPU -- THE BATTLE-TAPU -- TAKING OFF THE TAPU -- DUTY OF THE TOHUNGA -- THE TAPU THE STRENGTH OF THE CHIEFS.

We now come naturally to the custom of Tapu or Taboo, that extraordinary system which extends throughout the whole of Polynesia, modified slightly according to the locality in which it exists.

The general bearings of the law of tapu may be inferred from the sense of the word, which signifies prohibition. The system of tapu is therefore a law of prohibition, and, when stripped of the extravagances into which it often deteriorates, it is seen to be a very excellent system, and one that answers the purpose of a more elaborate code of laws. In countries where an organized government is employed the tapu is needless, and we find that even in those parts of the earth where it was once the only restrictive law it has fallen into disuse since regular government has been introduced.

Were it not for the law of tapu, an absolute anarchy would prevail in most parts of Polynesia, the tapu being the only guardian of property and morality. In order that it may be enforced on the people, the terrors of superstition are called into play, and, in the absence of secular law, the spiritual powers are evoked.

Unprotected by the tapu, property could not exist: protected by it, the most valued and coveted articles are safer than they would be in England or America despite the elaborate legal system that secures to every man that which is his own. In New Zealand, when a man has cultivated a field of kumeras, or sweet potatoes, he needs no fence and no watchman. He simply sends for the tohunga, who lays the tapu on the field; and from that moment no one save the owner will venture within its boundaries.

Sometimes a canoe is hauled up on the beach, and must be left there for some time unwatched. The owner need not trouble himself about securing his vessel. He has the tapu mark placed upon it, and the boat is accordingly held sacred to all except its possessor. Similarly, if a native boat-builder fixes on a tree which he thinks can be made into a canoe, he places the tapu on it, and knows that no one but himself will dare to cut it down. The mark of tapu in this case is almost invariably the removal of a strip of bark round the trunk of the tree.

Then the system of tapu is the only guardian of morals. It has been already mentioned that an extreme laxity in this respect prevails among the unmarried girls. But as soon as a girl is married she becomes tapu to all but her husband, and any one who induces her to become unfaithful must pay the penalty of the tapu if the delinquents be discovered. Nor is the tapu restricted to married women. It is also extended to young girls when they are betrothed; and any girl on whom the tapu has thus been laid is reckoned as a married woman.

It will be seen, therefore, that the principle of the tapu is a good one, and that it serves as protection both to property and morals. There are, of course, many instances where this system has run into extravagances, and where, instead of a protection, it has developed into a tyranny.

Take, for example, the very praiseworthy idea that the life of a chief is most important to his people, and that his person is therefore considered as tapu. This is a proper and wholesome idea, and is conducive to the interests of law and justice. But the development of the system becomes a tyranny. The chief himself being tapu, everything that he touched, even with the skirt of his garment, became tapu, and thenceforth belonged to him. So ingrained is this idea that on one occasion, when a great chief was wearing a large and handsome mantle and found it too heavy for a hot day, he threw it down a precipice. His companion remonstrated with him, saying that it would have been better to have hung the mat on a bough, so that the next comer might make use of it. The chief was horror-struck at such an idea. It was hardly possible that a superior to himself should find the mat, and not likely that an equal should do so, and if an inferior were to wear it, he would at once die.

As the very contact of a chiefs garment renders an object tapu, à fortiori does his blood, and one drop of the blood of a chief falling upon even such objects as are free from the ordinary laws of tapu renders them his property. A curious example of the operation of this law occurred when a meeting of chiefs was called at the Taupo lake. As the principal man of the tribes, the celebrated chief Te Heu-heu was invited, and a new and beautifully carved canoe sent to fetch him. As he stepped into it, a splinter ran into his foot, inflicting a very slight wound. Every man leaped out of the canoe, which was at once drawn up on the beach and considered as the property of Te Heu-heu. Another canoe was procured, and in it the party proceeded on their journey.

Another kind of tapu takes place with regard to any object which is connected with the death of a native. If, for example, a Maori has fallen overboard from a canoe and been drowned, the vessel can never be used again, but is tapu. Or if a man commits suicide by shooting himself, as has already been mentioned, the musket is tapu. But in these cases the articles are tapu to the atuas, and not to men. Sometimes they are left to decay on the spot, no man daring to touch them, or they are broken to pieces, and the fragments stuck upright in the earth to mark the spot where the event occurred.

Sometimes this personal tapu becomes exceedingly inconvenient. The wife of an old and venerable tohunga had been ill, and was made tapu for a certain length of time, during which everything that she touched became tapu. Even the very ground on which she sat was subject to this law, and accordingly, whenever she rose from the ground, the spot on which she had sat was surrounded with a fence of small boughs stuck archwise into the earth, in order to prevent profane feet from polluting the sacred spot.

The most sacred object that a New Zealander can imagine is the head of the chief. It is so sacred that even to mention it is considered as an affront. Europeans have often given deadly offence through ignorance of this superstition, or even through inadvertence. Mr. Angas narrates a curious instance of such an adventure. A friend of his was talking to a Maori chief over his fence, and the conversation turned upon the crops of the year. Quite inadvertently he said to the chief, “Oh, I have in my garden some apples as large as that little boy’s head”--pointing at the same time to the chief’s son, who was standing near his father.

He saw in a moment the insult that he had offered, and apologized, but the chief was so deeply hurt that it was with the greatest difficulty that a reconciliation was brought about. The simile was a peculiarly unfortunate one. To use the head of a chiefs son as a comparison at all was bad enough, but to compare it to an article of food was about the most deadly insult that could be offered to a Maori. All food and the various processes of preparation are looked down upon with utter contempt by the free Maori, who leaves all culinary operations to the slaves or “cookies.”

One of the very great chiefs of New Zealand was remarkable for his snowy white hair and beard, which gave him a most venerable aspect. He was held in the highest respect, and was so extremely sacred a man that his head might only be mentioned in comparison with the snow-clad top of the sacred mountain.

The same traveller to whom we are indebted for the previous anecdote relates a curious story illustrative of this etiquette. There was a certain old chief named Taonui, who was in possession of the original suit of armor which was given by George IV. to E’ Hongi when he visited England. “The subsequent history of this armor is somewhat curious. It passed from the Nga Puis to Tetori and from Tetori to Te Whero-Whero at the Waikato feast, and came into Taonui’s hands under the following circumstances.

“On the death of a favorite daughter Te Whero-Whero made a song, the substance of which was, that he would take off the scalps of all the chiefs except Ngawaka, and fling them into his daughter’s grave to avenge her untimely death. The words of this song highly insulted the various individuals against whom it was directed, more especially as it was a great curse for the hair of a chief, which is sacred, to be thus treated with contempt. But the only chief who dared to resent this insult from so great a man as Te Whero-Whero was Taonui, who demanded a ‘taua,’ or gift, as recompense for the affront, and received the armor of E’ Hongi in compensation.

“I made a drawing of the armor, which was old and rusty. It was of steel, inlaid with brass, and, though never worn by the possessors in battle--for it would sadly impede their movements--it is regarded with a sort of superstitious veneration by the natives, who look upon it as something extraordinary.”

A chief’s head is so exceedingly sacred that, if he should touch it with his own fingers, he may not touch anything else without having applied the hand to his nostrils and smelt it so as to restore to the head the virtue which was taken out of it by the touch. The hair of a chief is necessarily sacred, as growing upon his head. When it is cut, the operation is generally confided to one of his wives, who receives every particle of the cut hair in a cloth, and buries it in the ground. In consequence of touching the chief’s head, she becomes tapu for a week, during which time her hands are so sacred that she is not allowed to use them. Above all things, she may not feed herself, because she would then be obliged to pollute her hands by touching food, and such a deed would be equivalent to putting food on the chief’s head--a crime of such enormity that the mind of a Maori could scarcely comprehend its possibility.

When engaged in his explorations in New Zealand, and employed in sketching every object of interest which came in his way, Mr. Angas found this notion about the chief’s head to be a very troublesome one. He was not allowed to portray anything connected with food with the same pencil with which he sketched the head of a chief, and to put a drawing of a potato, a dish for food, or any such object, into the same portfolio which contained the portrait of a chief, was thought to be a most fearful sacrilege.

The artist had a narrow escape of losing the whole of his sketches, which a chief named Ko Tarui wanted to burn, as mixing sacred with profane things. They were only rescued by the intervention of Te Heu-heu, a superstitious old savage, but capable of seeing that the white man had meant no harm. Warned by this escape, Mr. Angas always made his drawings of tapu objects by stealth, and often had very great difficulty in eluding the suspicious natives.

Even the carved image of a chief’s head is considered as sacred as the object which it represents. Dr. Dieffenbach relates a curious instance of this superstition.

“In one of the houses of Te Puai, the head chief of all the Waikato, I saw a bust, made by himself, with all the serpentine lines of the moko, or tattooing. I asked him to give it to me, but it was only after much pressing that he parted with it. I had to go to his house to fetch it myself, as none of his tribe could legally touch it, and he licked it all over before he gave it to me; whether to take the tapu off, or whether to make it more strictly sacred, I do not know. He particularly engaged me not to put it into the provision bag, nor to let it see the natives at Rotu-nua, whither I was going, or he would certainly die in consequence.

“Payment for the bust he would not take; but he had no objection to my making him a present of my own free will: which I accordingly did, presenting him and his wife with a shirt each.”

Once the natives were very angry because Mr. Angas went under a cooking shed, having with him the portfolio containing the head of Te Heu-heu. Even his hands were tapu because they had painted the portrait of so great a chief, and he was subjected to many annoyances in consequence. Finding that the tapu was likely to become exceedingly inconvenient, he put a stop to further encroachments by saying that, if the people made any more complaints, he would put Te Heu-heu’s head into the fire. This threat shocked them greatly, but had the desired effect.

Sometimes this sanctity of the chief is exceedingly inconvenient to himself. On one occasion, when Mr. Angas was visiting the chief Te Whero-Whero, he found the great man superintending the plantation of a kumera ground and the erection of a house for himself. Rain was falling fast, but the old chief sat on the damp ground, wrapped up in his blanket, and appearing to be entirely unconcerned at the weather, a piece of sail-cloth over the blanket being his only defence.

He did not rise, according to the custom of the old heathen chiefs, who will sometimes sit for several days together, in a sort of semi-apathetic state. To the request that his portrait might be taken Te Whero-Whero graciously acceded, and talked freely on the all important subject of land while the painter was at work. Finding the rain exceedingly unpleasant, the artist suggested that they had better move into a house. The old chief, however, knowing that he could not enter a house without making it his property by reason of contact with his sacred person, declined to move, but ordered a shelter to be erected for the white man. This was done at once, by fastening a blanket to some upright poles: and so the portrait was completed, the painter under cover and the sitter out in the rain.

Localities can be rendered tapu, even those which have not been touched by the person who lays the tapu upon them. The chief Te Heu-heu, for example, was pleased to declare the volcano Tongariro under the tapu, by calling it his backbone, so that not a native would dare approach it, nor even look at it, if such an act could be avoided. Mr. Angas was naturally desirous of visiting this mountain, but found that such a scheme could not be carried out. He offered blankets and other articles which a New Zealander prizes; but all to no purpose, for the tapu could not be broken. The chief even tried to prevent his white visitors from travelling in the direction of the mountain, and only gave his consent after ordering that the sacred Tongariro should not even be looked at. So deeply is this superstition engraven in the heart of the New Zealander, that even the Christian natives are afraid of such a tapu, and will not dare to approach a spot that has thus been made sacred by a tohunga. Reasoning is useless with them; they will agree to all the propositions, admit the inference to be drawn from them, and then decline to run so terrible a risk.

One of the finest examples of native architecture was made tapu by this same chief, who seems to have had a singular pleasure in exercising his powers. It was a pah called Waitahanui, and was originally the stronghold of Te Heu-heu. It is on the borders of the lake, and the side which fronts the water is a full half-mile in length. It is made, as usual, of upright posts and stakes, and most of the larger posts are carved into the human form, with visages hideously distorted, and tongues protruded seaward, as if in defiance of expected enemies.

Within this curious pah were the cannibal cook-houses which have already been figured, together with several of the beautifully carved patukas or receptacles for the sacred food of the chief. Specimens of these may be seen figured on page 831. In this pah Mr. Angas found the most elaborate specimen of the patuka that he ever saw. It was fortunate that he arrived when he did, as a very few years more would evidently complete the destruction of the place. Many of the most beautiful implements of native art were already so decayed that they were but a shapeless heap of ruins, and the others, were rapidly following in the same path. Of these specimens of Maori carving and architecture nothing is now left but the sketches from which have been made the illustrations that appear in this work.

Here I may be allowed to controvert a popular and plausible fallacy, which has often been brought before the public. Travellers are blamed for bringing to England specimens of architecture and other arts from distant countries. It is said, and truly too, that such articles are out of place in England. So they are: but it must be remembered that if they had not been in England they would not have been in existence. The marvellous sarcophagus, for example, brought to London by Belzoni, and now in the Soane Museum, would have been broken to pieces and hopelessly destroyed if it had been allowed to remain in the spot where it was found.

Again, had not the Assyrian sculptures found a home in the British Museum, they would have been knocked to pieces by the ignorant tribes who now roam over the ruins of Nineveh the Great. Even had the vast statues defied entire destruction, the inscriptions would long ago have been defaced, and we should have irreparably lost some of the most valuable additions to our scanty knowledge of chronology.

So again with the Elgin Marbles. Undoubtedly they were more in their place in Greece than they are in England; but, if they had not been brought to England, the iconoclastic hand of the Mussulman would have utterly destroyed them, and the loss to art would have been indeed terrible.

Thus is it with regard to the specimens of savage art, no matter in what way it is developed. Taking New Zealand as an example, there is not in England a single specimen of a Maori house. It could be easily taken to pieces and put together again; it is peculiarly valuable to ethnologists on account of the extraordinary mixture which it displays of ancient Egyptian architecture and ancient Mexican art; and in a very few years there will not be a single specimen of aboriginal architecture in the whole of New Zealand. The Maories, who have abandoned the club for the rifle, the mat for the blanket, and even the blanket for the coat and trousers, have begun to modify their ancient architecture, and to build houses after the European models.

Unless, therefore, means be taken to rescue specimens of Maori architecture from destruction, it is much to be doubted whether in twenty years’ time from the present date a single specimen will exist as a type of native art. So it is with the canoes. Graceful, picturesque, and adorned with the finest specimens of Maori art, the canoes were unique among vessels. At the present day the more useful but more commonplace whaleboat has superseded the canoe, and in a few years the elaborately decorated vessels of the Maories will have utterly passed away.

We may be sure that the tide of civilization is sweeping so rapidly over the world, that a very few years will see the end of savage life in all lands to which the white man can gain access. The relics of the ancient mode of life are left by the natives to perish, and, unless they are rescued, and brought to a country where they can be preserved, they will necessarily vanish from the face of the earth. Having this idea in my own mind, I set myself some years ago to collect articles of daily use from all parts of the world. The light which they throw upon anthropology is really astonishing, and, among some eight or nine hundred specimens, there is not one that does not tell its own story.

Take, for example, the stone merai that lies before me. What a tale does it not tell of the country where it was found, and of the workman who made it! The stone shows that it was obtained from a volcanic country; the short, weighty form of the weapon shows that it was made for a courageous race who fought hand to hand; and the graceful curves and perfect balance of the weapon show that the maker was a true artist. More than that. The merai has been made by rubbing it with another stone, and must have occupied years of labor. See, then, what a tale this weapon tells us--the volcanic region, the courageous warrior, and the worthlessness of time. Year after year the man must have worked at that merai, bending his tattooed face over it, balancing it in his hand, and watching its soft curves grow into perfection. Then, after it was made, he has evidently carried it about with him, fought with his foes, and dashed out their brains with its once sharp and now notched edge. Afterward, when he, or may be his grandson, came to fight against the white men, their fire-arms were too terrible to be opposed, and the merai was taken from the hand of the dead warrior as he lay on the field of battle, its plaited cord still round his wrist. Nevermore will a stone merai be made, and before very long the best examples of Maori weapons will be found in English museums.

We will now return to the subject of the tapu. Useful as it may be as a guardian of property, it often exaggerates that duty, and produces very inconvenient results. For example, some travellers were passing through the country, and were hungry and wearied, and without food. Very opportunely there came in sight a fine pig; but the animal contrived to run across a piece of ground which was tapu, and in consequence became tapu itself for a certain number of days, and could not be eaten.

There are thousands of such tapu spots in the country. If, for example, a great chief has been travelling, every place where he sits to rest is tapu, and is marked by a slight fence of sticks. In many cases, each of these sacred spots has its own name. The same is the case when the body of a chief is carried to his own pah for burial, every resting place of the bearers becoming tapu. Therefore nothing was more likely than to come across one of these tapu spots, or more easy than for the pig to break through its slight fence.

A curious modification of the tapu took place before and after a battle. The tohunga assembled the warriors of his own party, and went with them to the lake or river, which had been made tapu for the purpose. The men then threw off all their clothing, and went into the water, which they scooped up with their hands and threw over their heads and bodies. The priest then recited the appropriate incantation.

Thus the battle tapu was laid upon the warriors, who were thereby prohibited from undertaking any other business except that of fighting, and were supposed, moreover, to be under the protection of the gods. This tapu was most strictly regarded, and the warriors had to learn quite a long list of occupations which were forbidden to them, such as carrying a load, cutting their own hair, touching the head of a woman, and so forth.

After the fighting is over, it is necessary that the tapu should be taken off from the survivors, so that they should be enabled to return to their usual mode of life. This ceremony is rather a complicated one, and varies slightly in different parts of the country. The chief features, however, are as follows:--

Each man who had killed an enemy, or taken a slave, pulled off a lock of hair from the victim, and retained it as a trophy. They then went in a body to the tohunga, and gave him a portion of the hair. This he tied on a couple of little twigs, raised them high above his head, and recited the incantation; after which the whole body joined in the war song and dance. This being over, the warriors clapped their hands together and struck their legs, that act being supposed to take off the tapu which had been contracted by imbruing them in the blood of the enemy.

The war party then goes home, and a similar ceremony is undergone in the presence of the principal tohunga of their pah, the hands being clapped and the war dance performed. The remainder of the hair is given to the tohunga, who, after reciting his incantation, flings the tuft of hair away, and ends by another incantation, which declares that the tapu is taken away.

As a general rule, the tapu can only be taken off by the person who imposed it; but if a man imposed a tapu on anything, another who was very much his superior would not have much scruple in breaking through it. By courtesy the tapu was mostly respected by great and small alike, and, by courtesy also, the very great men often put themselves to great inconvenience by refraining from actions that would lay the tapu on the property of inferiors. Thus we have seen how a chief refused to enter a house, lest he should render it his property, and preferred to sit in the pouring rain, rather than run the risk of depriving an inferior of his property.

Should an object become tapu by accident, the tohunga can take off the tapu and restore the object to use. A curious instance of the exercise of this power is related by a traveller. A white man, who had borrowed an iron pot for cooking, wanted some soft water, and so he placed the pot under the eaves of a house from which the rain was running. Now, the house happened to be tapu, and in consequence the water running from it made the pot tapu. It so happened that a woman, who was ignorant of the circumstance, used the pot for cooking, and when she was told that the vessel was tapu she was greatly frightened, declaring that she would die before night. In this difficulty a tohunga came to her relief, repeated an incantation over the vessel, and made it “noa,” or common, again.

Sometimes the tapu only lasts for a period, and, after that time has elapsed, expires without the need of any ceremony. Thus, if a person who is tapu by sickness is touched by another, the latter is tapu for a definite time, usually three days. If a sick person dies inside a house, that house is ipso facto, tapu and may never again be used. It is painted with red ochre, as a sign of its sanctity, and is left to decay. In consequence of this superstition, when the patient seems likely to die, he is removed from the house, and taken to a spot outside the pah, where a shed is built for his reception.

It will be seen from the foregoing account how great is the power of the tapu, and how much it adds to the power of the chiefs. Indeed, without the power of tapu, a chief would be but a common man among his people--he would be liable to the tapu of others, and could not impose his own. The tapu is one of the chief obstacles against the spread of Christianity. Knowing that the missionaries treat the tapu as a mere superstition, the great chiefs do not choose to embrace a religion which will cause them to lose their highest privilege, and would deprive them of the one great power by which they exercise their authority.

Mr. Williams, the well-known missionary, sums up the subject of the tapu in very bold and graphic language:--“It is the secret of power, and the strength of despotic rule. It affects things both great and small. Here it is seen tending a brood of chickens, and there it directs the energies of a kingdom. Its influence is variously diffused. Coasts, islands, rivers, and seas; animals, fruit, fish, and vegetables; houses, beds, pots, cups, and dishes; canoes, with all that belong to them, with their management; dress, ornaments, and arms; things to eat and things to drink; the members of the body; the manners and customs; language, names, temper; and even the gods also; all come under the influence of the tapu.

“It is put into operation by religious, political, or selfish motives; and idleness lounges for months beneath its sanction. Many are thus forbidden to raise their hands or extend their arms in any useful employment for a long time. In this district it is tapu to build canoes; on that island it is tapu to erect good houses. The custom is much in favor among chiefs, who adjust it so that it sits easily on themselves, while they use it to gain influence over those who are nearly their equals; by it they supply many of their wants, and command at will all who are beneath them. In imposing a tapu, a chief need only be checked by a care that he is countenanced by ancient precedents.”

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LXXXVII. NEW ZEALAND--Concluded

FUNERAL CEREMONIES AND ARCHITECTURE.

THE MOURNING OVER THE DEAD CHIEF -- THE TANGI, AND THE SCARS WHICH IT LEAVES -- FIRST BURIAL OF THE CHIEF -- THE WAHI TAPU -- THE SECOND BURIAL, OR “HAHUNGA” -- REMOVAL OF THE TAPU, AND INSTALLATION OF THE SUCCESSOR -- E’ HONGI’S DEATHBED -- A DECAYING PAH -- CANOE TOMBS -- MONUMENT TO E’ TOKI -- TOMB OF TE WHERO-WHERO’S DAUGHTER -- SAVAGE SENTIMENT -- MAORI ARCHITECTURE -- MATERIAL, SHAPE, AND SIZE OF THE HOUSES -- A CROWDED SLEEPING PLACE -- THE EAT MAN HOUSE -- RANGIHAEATA’S REVENGE -- PUATIA’S WAR-HOUSE AND ITS SCULPTURES -- INTERIOR VIEW OF A PAH -- TOOLS USED IN HOUSE-BUILDING -- THE AXE AND THE CHISEL -- THE TOKO-TOKO, OR WALKING STICK.

We now come to the ceremonies that belong to funerals.

When a chief, or indeed any Rangatira, dies, his friends and relations deck the body in the finest clothes which the deceased had possessed in his lifetime, lay it out, and assemble round it for the customary mourning. The women are the chief mourners, and indulge in the most demonstrative, not to say ostentatious, ebullitions of grief. Sometimes they squat upon the ground, their bodies and faces wrapped in their mantles, as if utterly overpowered by grief. Sometimes they wave their arms in the air, shaking their hands with expressive gestures of sorrow; and all the while they utter loud wailing cries, while the tears stream down their cheeks.

Much of this extravagant sorrow is necessarily feigned, according to the custom of New Zealand life, which demands tears on so many occasions; but there is no doubt that much is real and truly felt. The women cut themselves severely with shells, making incisions in the skin several inches in length. These incisions are filled with charcoal, as if they had been part of the regular moko or tattoo, and become indelible, being, in fact, perpetual records of sorrow. Some of these women cut themselves with such severity, that in their old age they are covered with the thin blue lines of the “tangi,” their faces, limbs, and bodies being traversed by them in rather a ludicrous manner. The tangi lines might be mistaken for regular tattooing, except for one point. They have no pattern, and instead of being curved, as is always the case with the moko, they are straight, about two inches in length, and run parallel to each other.

They address long speeches to the dead man, enumerating his many virtues, his courage, his liberality, the strength of his tapu, and so forth, mixed with reproaches to him for dying and going away from them when they stood in such need of him. Indeed, the whole of the proceedings, with the exception of cutting the skin, are very like those of an Irish wake.

In the illustration No. 1, on the 872nd page, are shown these various ceremonies. The dead body of the chief is lying under the shed, wrapped in the best mantle, and with a coronal of feathers in the hair. In the front sits a chief, whose rank is denoted by his hani, or staff of office, that lies by him, and by the elaborate mantle in which he has wrapped himself. Standing near the corpse is one of the mourners, with arms upraised and hands quivering, while others are seen sitting in various attitudes of woe. The fence of the pah is shown in the background, with its grotesque images and curious architecture.

When the old people attend a funeral, they usually paint themselves freely with red ochre, and wear wreaths of green leaves upon their heads. The house in which the death took place is rendered tapu until the body is finally disposed of--an event which does not take place for some time.

After the mourning ceremonies have been completed, the body is placed in a sort of coffin and allowed to decay, the green jade merai, the tiki, the hani, and other emblems of rank being placed with the corpse. In some parts of the country this coffin is canoe-shaped, and suspended to the branches of a tree, certain places being kept sacred for this purpose. There existed, for example, several graves belonging to the Nga-pui tribe, which had been preserved on account of the sacred character which belonged to them. The natives had long abandoned the custom of hanging the coffins of the dead on the trees, but the sacred character still clung to them, and, though the woods in that part of the country had been felled, the sacred groves were allowed to flourish unharmed.

Sometimes the body of a very great chief was placed in a wooden receptacle in the midst of the pah, called the waki-tapu, and there allowed to decay. As might be expected, a most horrible odor is disseminated through the pah during the process of decomposition; but the inhabitants do not seem to trouble themselves, their nostrils not being easily offended. For example, when a whale is thrown ashore, the stench of the huge mass of decomposition is so overpowering that an European cannot endure it. The natives, however, say that they are used to it, and do not notice it. Indeed, people who can eat the horrible messes of putrid maize of which they are so fond must be so obtuse of scent as to be indifferent to any ill odor.

Be it as it may, in time the process of decay is supposed to be complete,--seven or eight months being the usual time. A curious ceremony, called the “hahunga,” then takes place. The friends and relatives of the deceased chief are again assembled, and the bones are solemnly taken from their receptacle and cleaned. The person who cleans them is necessarily tapu, but is rendered “noa,” or common again, by the eldest son and daughter of the deceased chief eating of the sacred food offered to the dead. Should the eldest girl happen to be dead, the food is placed in a calabash, and laid in the now empty coffin, the spirit of the girl being called by name, and the food offered to her. The spirit is supposed to partake of the food; and the tapu is thus removed as effectually as if she were alive, and had visibly eaten the provisions. Should the chief have had no daughter, the nearest female relative takes the office. The usual orations are made in honor of the deceased and the merai, tiki, and other ornaments of the dead chief are then handed over to his eldest son, who thus takes possession of the post which his father had vacated, the ceremony being analogous to a coronation among Europeans.

When the celebrated chief E’ Hongi, the “Scourge of New Zealand,” as he has been called, died, his children were so afraid that they would be attacked by those whom the terror of his name had kept quiet, that they wanted to omit the preliminary orations and “tangi,” and to lay his body in the “waki-tapu,” or sacred place, on the day after his death. This intention was, however, overruled, chiefly in consequence of the foresight of the dying chief.

Feeling that his end was close at hand, he rallied his sons round him, sent for all his warlike stores, the merais, patus, muskets, ammunition, and, above all, the armor which he had received from George IV., and bequeathed them to his children. He was asked what “utu,” or satisfaction, should be exacted for his death, but replied that the only utu which his spirit would desire was, that his tribe should be valiant, and repel any attack that might be made upon them. But for this really noble sentiment, there would have been great slaughter at his death, in order to furnish attendants for him.

That his tribe should for the future be valiant, and repel the attacks of their enemies, was the ruling idea in E’ Hongi’s mind; and on March 6, 1828, he died, continually repeating the words, “Kia toa! kia toa!”--i. e. “Be valiant! be valiant!”

After the ceremony of cleaning the bones is over, they are taken by the principal tohunga, or priest, who generally disposes of them in some secret spot sacred to the remains of dead chiefs, and known only to himself. Sometimes, however, they are laid in beautifully carved boxes, which are supported on posts in the middle of the pah.

Sometimes the waki-tapu, or sacred place in which the body of a chief is placed while it undergoes decomposition, is marked in a very curious manner, and the entire village deserted for a time. For example, at the pah of Huriwenua, the chief had died about six weeks before Mr. Angas arrived at the place, which he found deserted. “Not far from this island pah stood the village of Huriwenua, the gaily-ornamented tomb of the late chief forming a conspicuous object in the centre. Here, although everything was in a state of perfect preservation, not a living soul was to be seen; the village, with its neat houses made of raupo, and its courtyards and provision boxes, was entirely deserted. From the moment the chief was laid beneath the upright canoe, on which were inscribed his name and rank, the whole village became strictly tapu, or sacred, and not a native, on pain of death, was permitted to trespass near the spot. The houses were all fastened up, and on most of the doors were inscriptions denoting that the property of such an one remained there.

“An utter silence pervaded the place. After ascertaining that no natives were in the vicinity of the forbidden spot, I landed, and trod the sacred ground; and my footsteps were probably the first, since the desertion of the village, that had echoed along its palisaded passages.

“On arriving at the tomb, I was struck with the contrast between the monument of the savage and that of the civilized European. In the erection of the latter, marble and stone and the most durable of metals are employed, while rapidly decaying wood, red ochre, and feathers form the decorations of the Maori tomb. Huriwenua having been buried only six weeks, the ornaments of the waki-tapu, or sacred place, as those erections are called, were fresh and uninjured. The central upright canoe was richly painted with black and red, and at the top was written the name of the chief; above which there hung in clusters, bunches of kaka feathers, forming a large mass at the summit of the canoe. A double fence of high palings, also painted red, and ornamented with devices in arabesque work, extended round the grave, and at every fastening of flax, where the horizontal rails were attached to the upright fencing, were stuck two feathers of the albatross, the sunny whiteness of which contrasted beautifully with the sombre black and red of the remainder of the monument.”

One of these tombs may be seen in the background of illustration No. 1, on p. 860, containing the portrait of an old priest, and another is shown in the view of a village which will be given on a future page.

Within the pah is often erected a monument or mausoleum of the dead. A very beautiful example of this kind of tomb was erected in the pah of Rangihaeta to the memory of E’ Toki, the mother of Raupahara.

It was nearly semi-circular in shape, and the body was placed in it in an upright position. It was covered with a roof, squared at the corners, and projecting like a verandah all round, and sloping toward the back. The central tomb, the roof, and the posts which supported it, were all covered with the most elaborate arabesque pattern, mostly of a spiral character. Paint was liberally used on it, that on the central tomb or coffin being red and white, while that which decorated the roof and posts was red and black. In front of the projecting roof was hung the beautifully woven kaitaka mat of the deceased woman, and tufts of the white feathers of the albatross were arranged at regular intervals upon it.

Even when Mr. Angas saw this beautiful example of Maori art, it was beginning to decay, the climate being damp, and the natives never repairing a decaying tomb. It was, of course, strictly tapu. No native liked to go close to it, and for a slave, or even a free man of inferior rank, to go within a certain distance of it would have been a crime punishable with instant death.

I have much pleasure in presenting on the preceding page an illustration of this beautiful monument of Maori art, taken from a drawing made by Mr. Angas in 1844, while the perishable materials of which the tomb was made were yet in tolerable preservation. Under the carved and decorated roof may be seen the semicircular coffin in which the body had been placed, distinguished from the outer portion of the tomb by the red and white colors with which it was painted, in contrast to the red and black of the outer portions. The reader will notice that red is the prevalent color in all tombs, because red is the hue of mourning as well as of war among the Maories. Immediately under the eaves of the front may be seen the highly ornamented border of the kaitaka mat once worn by the deceased, and now left to decay upon her tomb.

Round the tomb itself runs a slight and low fence. This palisade, small as it might appear, afforded ample protection to the tomb, inasmuch as the whole space within it was rendered sacred by a tapu laid upon it by Raupahara, so that not even the highest chief would venture to enter the forbidden enclosure.

One of the finest specimens of carving in New Zealand--perhaps the finest in the whole country--is, or rather was, a mausoleum erected by Te Whero-Whero to his favorite daughter. It was upon the death of this daughter that Te Whero-Whero gave such dire offence to the other chiefs by threatening to throw their scalps into his daughter’s grave, for which offence he had to give up the celebrated armor of E’Hongi by way of fine.

The monument was erected in Raroera, formerly one of the largest and finest pahs in New Zealand, but rendered desolate by the act of the headstrong and determined chief. He had this wonderful tomb built for his daughter, and, as soon as her body was placed within it, he pronounced the whole pah to be tapu. It was at once deserted: old and young quitted the place, leaving everything behind them, the provisions to moulder and the weapons to decay. Solid houses that had occupied many years in building and carving were allowed to fall into mere shapeless heaps of ruins; and even in 1844 the rank vegetation had so completely overrun the place that many of the best pieces of native work were covered by the foliage.

The tomb is about twelve feet high, and consists of the usual box for the reception of the body, covered by a projecting roof, which is supported by pillars. Were it as graceful in form as the monument to E’ Toki, this would be by far the finest specimen of native art; but unfortunately it does not possess the bold outline and contrast of the curve and the straight line which are so characteristic of E’ Toki’s tomb.

The elaboration of the carving on this monument is so great that it almost baffles the skill of the draughtsman. Mr. Angas succeeded in copying it, and when the drawing was shown to the artist who had executed the work he was astounded, and pronounced the white man to be a great tohunga. The roof is supported by pillars, each pillar consisting of two human figures, the upper standing on the head of the lower. The upper figure is about seven feet in height, and has a gigantic head, with an enormous protruding tongue that reaches to the breast.

The whole of the tomb is covered with human heads. Exclusive of those upon the posts, the front alone of the tomb contains fourteen faces, each differing from the other in expression and pattern of the moko, but all wearing the same defiant air. Their enormous eyes are made peculiarly conspicuous by being carved out of haliotis shell, carrying out on a large scale the plan adopted in the chiefs’ hanis and other sculptures. The whole of the space between the figures is covered with the most elaborate arabesques, intertwining with each other in a bewildering manner, but each running its own boldly curved course. Between the various pieces that compose this tomb are set bunches and tufts of white and green feathers, which serve to adorn as well as disguise the necessary seams of the woodwork.

This wonderful monument was entirely carved by one man, named Paranui. He was lame, and in consequence had expended his energies in art, in which he had so greatly distinguished himself that he took rank as a tohunga. He was equally celebrated as a tattooer; and it may well be imagined that a man who could design so extraordinary a piece of workmanship must be skilful in inventing the endless variety of patterns needful in the decoration of chief’s faces. In performing this work, Paranui had but one tool, the head of an old bayonet.

The loss of such specimens of native art as those which have been described carries out my former remarks on the necessity for removing to our own country every memorial of savage life that we can secure. We inflict no real injury upon the savages, and we secure an invaluable relic of vanishing customs. These monuments, for example, were simply carved and then left to decay. Had they been removed to this country, where they would have been guarded from the power of the elements and the encroachments of vegetation, we should have seen them in complete preservation at the present day, and likely to last as long as the building which contained them.

Of course the sentimental argument may be pleaded against this view of the case; but in matters which are of vital importance in the grand study of anthropology mere sentiment ought to have no place. Neither has it such place as some often imagine. The savage, finding that the white man yields to him on this point, is only too glad to find any vantage ground, and always presses on as fast as the other yields--just as has been done in India with the question of caste. We cannot measure their mental sensibilities any more than their physical by our own. A savage endures with stoicism tortures which would kill an European, simply because he does not feel them as much. And the mental and physical sensibilities are very much on a par.

The Maori is perhaps the finest savage race on the face of the earth, and yet we cannot think that he is exactly an estimable being, whose ambition is murder, and whose reward is to eat the body of his victim, who never does a stroke of work that he can avoid, and who leads a life of dissipation as far as his capabilities go. Of all savage nations, the New Zealander displays most sorrow for the loss of a friend or relation. Tears flow profusely from his eyes, and every tone of his voice and every gesture of his body convey the impression that he is borne down by unendurable woe. Yet we have seen that this effusion of sorrow is mostly premeditated, and merely a conventional mode of acting required by the etiquette of the country.

When two people can be bathed in tears, speak only in sobbing accents, utter heart-rending cries, and sink to the ground as overwhelmed by grief, we cannot but compassionate their sorrow and admire their sensibility. But if, in the middle of all these touching demonstrations of grief, we see them suddenly cease from their sobs and cries, enter into a little lively conversation, enjoy a hearty laugh, and then betake themselves afresh to their tears and sobs, we may take the liberty of doubting their sincerity.

So with those beautiful houses and monuments that are left to perish by neglect. The builder did in all probability feel very keenly at the time, though the feeling of grief seems sometimes to take a curious turn, and be metamorphosed into vengeance and an excuse for war; but it is very much to be doubted whether grief for the departed is a feeling that is really permanent in the savage mind. The Maori chief may lay his tapu on an entire village when a relative dies, and if, after the lapse of years, any one be rash enough to invade the forbidden precincts, he will visit the offence with instant punishment. But it must be remembered that the infringement of the tapu in question is not an insult to the dead but to the living, and that when the chief punishes the offender, he does not avenge an affront offered to his dead relative, but a direct insult to himself.

In spite of his sentiment, I think that the Maori might have been induced to sell such specimens of art, and even if he refused to yield to such a proposition, he would have respected us none the less if, when we had captured a pah, we exercised the right of conquest, and took that which we could not buy. Or even supposing that the first idea had proved impracticable, and the second unadvisable, it would not have been very difficult to have induced a native artist to execute a duplicate which he could sell for a price which would enrich him for life.

Such sentiments are, I know, unpopular with the mass of those who only see the savage at a distance, which certainly, in the case of savage life, lends the only enchantment to the view that it can possess. But I believe them to be just and true, and know that the closer is our acquaintance with savage life, the more reason we have to be thankful for civilization. The savage knows this himself, and bitterly feels his inferiority. He hates and fears the white man, but always ends by trying to imitate him.

To return to these monuments. In former times they existed in great numbers, and even in more recent days those which survive are so characteristic of a style of art that may have taken its rise from ancient Mexico, that I should have been glad to transfer to these pages several more of Mr. Angas’ sketches.

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It will be seen from several of the previous illustrations that the New Zealanders must possess much skill in architecture. The observant reader must have remarked that the art of house-building is practically wanting in Australia; and that such should be the case is most extraordinary, seeing that architectural skill is singularly developed among the great Polynesian families. The New Zealander, whose country has much in common with Australia, is remarkable for the skill and taste which he displays in architecture; and a short space will therefore be devoted to this subject.

As is the case throughout Polynesia in general, the material used in house-building is wood, and the various pieces of which a house is composed are fastened together not by nails, but by ropes and strings, which in many cases are applied in a most elaborate and artistic manner, beauty being studied not only in the forms of the houses and in the carved patterns with which they are adorned, but in the complicated lashings with which they are bound together. As, however, this branch of ornamental architecture is carried to a greater extent in Fiji than in New Zealand, I shall reserve the details for the description of the Fiji Islands.

The size of some of these edifices is very great. For example, in 1843 the Maori converts built for themselves a place of worship large enough to contain a thousand persons, and measuring eighty-six feet in length by forty-two in width. The size of this edifice was evidently determined by the length of the ridge-pole. This was cut from a single tree, and was dragged by the natives a distance of three miles. The cross-lashings of the building were all ornamental, giving to it a peculiar richness of finish.

We are, however, chiefly concerned with the domestic architecture of the Maories. Within each pah or enclosed village are a number of houses, each representing a family, and separated from each other by fences, several houses generally standing near each other in one enclosure. A full-sized house is about forty feet long by twenty wide, and is built on precisely the same principle as the tombs which have been just described, the actual house taking the position of the coffin, and being sheltered from the weather by a gable roof, which extends far beyond the walls, so as to form a sort of verandah. The roof is supported on separate posts, and does not, as with ourselves, rest upon the walls of the house. The roof always projects greatly at the principal end of the house, in which the door is situated, so that it forms a sort of shed, under which the members of the family can shelter themselves from the sun or rain without going into the house. A genuine New Zealander has a great love for fresh air, and, as we have seen, will composedly sit for a whole day on the wet ground in a pouring rain, although a house may be within easy reach. Yet at night, when he retires to rest, he is equally fond of shutting himself up, and of excluding every breath of fresh air.

Indeed, the native does not look upon a house as a place wherein to live, but merely as a convenient shelter from the elements by day and a comfortable sleeping-place by night. As soon as evening is near, a fire is lighted in the middle of the house, which fills it with smoke, as there is no chimney. The New Zealander, however, seems to be smoke-proof, and sits composedly in a place which would drive an European half mad with smarting eyes. Indeed, before the natives become inured to the acrid vapor, their eyes have much to endure, and it is to the habit of sitting in the smoke that the bleared look so prevalent in old people is chiefly due.

Not only do the natives thus surround themselves with a smoky atmosphere, but they limit its quantity as well as its quality. The number of men and women that will pack themselves into one house at night is almost incredible, each person lying down on a simple mat, and retaining the same clothes that have been worn during the day. As, however, the heat becomes excessive, the inmates generally contrive to throw off their clothing during the night. By daybreak the heat and closeness are almost stifling to an European, and it is rather an amusing sight to see a hut give up its inmates on the morning of a cold day, the whole party being enveloped in steam as they come into the cold air.

At the principal end of the house, under the verandah, is the entrance. This strangely resembles the gate of an Egyptian temple, being made of three large beams, the two side posts slightly inclining to each other, and the third laid upon them. The aperture is closed by a sliding door, and at the side of the door is generally a square window, which can be closed in the same manner. In some large houses there were two of these windows, one on either side of the door.

As the roof is made with a considerable slant, the walls are seldom more than two or three feet high where the roof touches them, though in the middle the house is lofty enough. The roof is supported on the inside by one or two posts, which are always carved elaborately, and almost invariably have the human figure as one of the ornaments upon them. The ridge-pole is flattened and boardlike, and in good houses is carved and painted in patterns, usually of the spiral character. This board, as well as those which are used in different parts of the building, is made by hacking the trunk of a tree on both sides, until it is reduced to the required thickness, the native Maories having no tool which can answer the purpose of a saw.

At the end of the ridge-pole, over the door, is carved a distorted human figure, intended to represent the owner of the house, and recognized as such by the lines of the moko or tattoo on its face, and generally having the tongue thrust out to an inordinate extent.

An illustration on page 877 represents the most celebrated of all Maori houses, namely, the war house of the ruthless chief Rangihaeta, an edifice which fully expresses the ferocious character of the builder. These houses are designed by chiefs in honor of some great victory, and are surrounded with wooden figures, which either represent in derision the leading warriors of the enemy who have been killed, or the victorious chief and his own warriors in the act of defying and insulting the enemy by thrusting out their tongues at them. This house bears the ominous name of Kai-tangata, or Eat-man.

The illustration is taken from a sketch made by Mr. Angas, who describes the building as follows: “Kai-tangata, or Eat-man House, is a wooden edifice in the primitive Maori style, of large dimensions, with the door-posts and the boards forming the portico curiously and elaborately carved in grotesque shapes, representing human figures, frequently in the most indecent attitudes. The eyes are inlaid with pawa shell, and the tattooing of the faces is carefully cut. The tongues of all these figures are monstrously large, and protrude out of the mouth, as a mark of defiance toward their enemies who may approach the house. The whole of the carved work, as well as the wooden parts of the building, are colored red with kokowai, an ochre found principally on the side of the volcano of Taranaki.

“The portico or verandah of Rangihaeta’s house is about twelve feet deep, and the ridge-pole and frame boards of the roof are richly painted in spiral arabesques of black and red; the margin of each spiral being dotted with white spots, which add richness to the effect. The spaces between the woodwork are filled up with variegated reeds, beautifully arranged with great skill, and fastened together with strips of flax dyed red, and tied crosswise, so as to present the appearance of ornamental basketwork.

“Above the centre of the gable-roofed portico is fixed a large wooden head, elaborately tattooed, with hair and a beard fastened on, composed of dogs’ tails. Within the house is a carved image of most hideous aspect, that supports the ridge-pole of the roof. This is intended to represent the proprietor, and is said by the natives to be entirely the work of Rangihaeta’s own hand.”

This figure, together with the pole that issues from the head, may be seen in illustration No. 1, on page 809, which represents the interior of the house. On account of the circumstance recorded in the beginning of this description, the artist has been unable to draw a vast number of carvings which decorated this house, so that much of the extraordinary elaboration is necessarily omitted.

Rangihaeta displayed his merciless disposition in one of the unfortunate skirmishes which often took place between the Maories and the English, and which have afterward been equally regretted by both parties, the white men having generally offered an unintentional insult to the natives, and the latter having resented it in the heat of passion. On this occasion, a number of the white men had been captured by the Maories under the two chiefs Rangihaeta and Raupahara, who were related to each other by marriage, the former having married a daughter of the latter. Some time previously, this woman had been accidentally killed by a chance shot, which, as a matter of course, her relations insisted on considering as intentional.

While the prisoners and their capturers were standing together, another chief named Puatia tried to make peace, saying that the slain on both sides were about equal. His proposition was accepted, the lately opposing parties shook hands, and all would have gone well had they not been joined by Rangihaeta, who had been employing himself in the congenial task of killing all the wounded. He immediately demanded the lives of the prisoners, and when Raupahara refused to accede to his demand, Rangihaeta told him to remember his daughter. The bereaved chief was silent at this implied reproach, and, before he had time to collect his thoughts, Rangihaeta glided round the party, getting behind each of the captives as they stood among the Maories, and killed them successively with his merai. The ubiquitous land question was at the bottom of this sad business.

Houses like the Kai-tangata were formerly common, answering the purpose of the ancient trophies. A war house nearly as celebrated as that which has just been described was erected by Puatia, the chief of Otawhao Pah, in order to commemorate the capture of Maketu on the east coast. Since Puatia died, the whole of this splendid pah was rendered tapu, and, in consequence, the buildings within it were given up to decay. Mr. Angas was fortunate enough to secure a sketch of the war house before, like the rest of the buildings in the pah, it had entirely decayed.

The house itself is perhaps scarcely so neatly made as the Kai-tangata, but it derives great interest from the number of figures with which the beams, rafters, and posts are decorated. On either side of the verandah stand two huge wooden figures, which are intended to represent two chiefs who fell in battle, but who, as belonging to the victorious side, are represented with their tongues defiantly menacing the beaten enemy.

The figure that supports the central pole represents a chief who was one of the principal warriors at the capture of Maketu. At the height of six and ten feet respectively, on the same pole, are carvings which represent two other warriors, their moko, or tattoo, doing duty for the whole of the person. Still higher are a couple of figures representing warriors, the upper figure appearing to stand on the roof itself. Just within the upper part of the gable is the figure of Pokana, a warrior who was living at the time when the house was built, and who is represented with a pipe in his mouth. Around the house are numbers of similar figures, each representing some well-known individual, and having a signification which is perfectly well understood by the natives.

It was in this ruined pah of Otawhao that the disused wooden war-bell was found. The former owner, Puatia, was converted to Christianity before his death, and, while he lay sick within his pah, he had a school established for the purpose of disseminating Christianity, and used to call his people round him for the morning and evening prayers.

It has been mentioned that, owing to the contempt with which the Maories regard everything that pertains to the preparation of food, cooking is never carried on in the dwelling-houses. If possible, it is conducted in the open air; but when the weather is too wet or too windy, a shed is employed. These cooking sheds are built expressly for the purpose, and no one with any claims to rank ever enters within them. Were no shelter but a cooking shed to be found within miles, the Maori chief would not enter it, no matter how severe the weather might be.

The cooking sheds are built very simply, the sides or walls being purposely made with considerable interstices, so that the wind may pass freely between them. They are roofed with beams, over which is placed a thatch of the raupo rush. As, among other articles of diet, the putrid maize is prepared in these sheds, the European traveller is often glad to find that the abominable mess will be cooked at a distance from him.

Some of the larger pahs contain a great number of houses, and several of them are inhabited by at least two thousand people. Civilization has at the present day exercised great influence upon the pahs, and reduced them, as a rule, to fortresses rather than villages. In many districts the use of the pah has been practically abandoned, those natives who wish to be at peace devoting themselves to the cultivation of the ground and living in scattered houses, without caring for the protection of the fence.

The illustration No. 2, on page 877, is taken from a sketch by Mr. Angas, representing the interior of a pah as seen by him in 1844. One or two of the houses are seen scattered about, adorned with the grotesque figures of which the Maori is so fond, and having several of the inmates sitting under the shelter of the deep verandah. Rather in the background are one or two of the ingenious and beautifully carved storehouses, in which food is protected from the rats, and on one side is a great wooden tiki projecting from the ground. Just behind the large storehouse is seen the curious monument that marks the waki-tapu, or sacred burial-place of a chief, a half canoe being planted in the ground and painted with elaborate patterns in red, the color for mourning and war among the New Zealanders.

Groups of the natives may be seen scattered about, conspicuous among whom is the council that is sitting in the foreground, under the presidency of the seated chief, whose hani, or staff of office, marks his dignity. A slave woman is seen working at her task of beating the flax leaves; and wandering promiscuously about the pah, or lying comfortably asleep, are the pigs, with which every village swarms.

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We now come to the tools with which the Maori performs all this wonderful amount of carpentering and carving.

Looking at the results, we might naturally fancy that the dusky architect possessed a goodly array of tools; but, in fact, his tools are as few and simple as his weapons, and may be practically considered as two, the adze and the chisel. On the next page an example of each is drawn, the artist having taken care to select the best and most valuable specimens; the blades being formed from the precious green jade, and the handles carved elaborately, so as to be worthy of the valuable material from which the blades are shaped.

As may be imagined, these tools cannot have very sharp edges given to them, as the brittleness of the stone would cause it to chip into an edge like that of a bad saw, and in consequence the worst iron axe is a far better tool than the best specimen of green stonework that a Maori ever made.

At No. 3 may be seen one of the common “tokis,” or stone axes, that were formerly so much used in building canoes. The specimen from which it is drawn is in my collection, and I have selected it for illustration because it gives so excellent an idea of the structure of the tool, and the mode of fastening the blade to the handle. This is achieved in a very ingenious manner, and although it scarcely seems possible to secure the requisite firmness by a mere lashing of string, the Maori workman has contrived to attach the blade as firmly as if it had been socketed.

This mode of fastening the blade to the handle prevails over the greater part of the Polynesian group, and, although the elaboration of the lashings varies considerably, the principle is exactly the same throughout. The same plan prevails even in Borneo, and there is in my collection a boat-builder’s adze, the iron blade of which is lashed to the socket in precisely the same manner, the only difference being that split rattan is employed instead of string. The reader will notice the peculiar shape of the adze-edge, which is exactly that of the incisor tooth of any rodent animal. Whether the maker intentionally copied the tooth is doubtful, but that he has done so is evident.

Tools such as these are necessarily imperfect; yet with these the Maories patiently executed the elaborate and really artistic designs which they once lavished on their dwellings, their canoes, their weapons, and their tools. They could not even make a walking stick but they must needs cover it with carvings. There is in my collection, and illustrated at fig. 4, a remarkably fine example of such a walking stick, called in the Maori tongue “toko-toko,” which was presented to me by Stiverd Vores, Esq. As the reader may see from the illustration it is ornamented with six complete human figures, and a human face on the knob of the handle. The portions of the stick that come between the figures are completely covered with carving, and the only plain surface is that which is intended to be grasped by the hand.

The six figures are in three pairs, set back to back, and those of each pair exactly resemble one another. A distinct gradation is observed in them, the uppermost pair having their faces most elaborately tattooed, the middle pair being less ornamented, and the lowermost pair having a comparatively simple tattoo. In the position of the heads there is also a distinction, which I believe to have some signification known to the carver. The upper pair have the left hand laid on the breast, and the right hand pressed to the lips; the middle pair have the left hand still on the breast, and the right fingers touching the throat; while the lower figures have both hands clasped on the breast.

All the figures are separated, except at the backs of the heads, the hips, and the heels, where they touch each other; so that the labor expended on this stick has been very great.

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We now take farewell of this interesting race--a race which is fast waning away, and will soon perish altogether. No New Zealander will ever sit on the broken arches of London Bridge, and contemplate the ruins of St. Paul’s. The Maori is fast disappearing, and in a comparatively few years it is certain that not a Maori of pure blood will be found in the islands; and before a century has elapsed, even the characteristic tattoo will be a remembrance of the past, of which the only memorials will be the dried heads that have been preserved in European museums. It is pitiful that such a race should be passing away; but its decadence cannot be arrested, and in a short time the Maories will be as completely extinct as the people of the stone age, leaving nothing but their manufactures as memorials of their existence. Such memorials, therefore, ought to be sedulously preserved. Every piece of genuine native carving that can be found in New Zealand ought to be secured and brought to England, where it can be preserved for future ages, and, with the isolated specimens that are scattered in private houses throughout the country, ought to be gathered together in some central museum, where they can be accessible to all who interest themselves in the grand science of anthropology.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

LXXXVIII. NEW CALEDONIA

POSITION AND DIMENSIONS OF NEW CALEDONIA -- APPEARANCE AND DRESS OF THE NATIVES -- THE DANCING MASK -- NATIVE ARCHITECTURE -- SMOKE AND MOSQUITOES -- WARFARE -- CURIOUS WEAPONS -- THE SLING AND THE SPEAR -- MODE OF THROWING THE SPEAR -- THE OUNEP, OR “AMENTUM” OF THE ANCIENTS -- SHAPE OF THE CLUB -- OBJECTS OF WAR -- CANNIBALISM -- THE KNIFE AND FORK -- DIET AND COOKERY IN GENERAL -- THE NOUGUI SPIDER -- MODE OF DRINKING -- CHARACTER OF THE NEW CALEDONIANS -- AN INGENIOUS THEFT -- THE KATA -- THE ISLE OF PINES, AND ITS INHABITANTS.

East of Australia is a tolerably large island known by the name of New Caledonia. It is of no very great extent, but is inhabited by a people who deserve a short notice in these pages.

The New Caledonians are nearly black in color, and in general form and appearance bear some resemblance to the aborigines of Tasmania. They are, however, better looking, and wear altogether a less savage aspect, probably on account of the comparatively regular supplies of food which they can obtain. They are of ordinary stature, but one man was seen who measured rather more than six feet in height. His form, however, was ill proportioned. They wear scarcely any dress, the men having generally a single leaf hanging from their girdles, or at the most a strip of soft bark answering the purpose of drawers, while the adult women wear a narrow fringed girdle, which passes several times round the waist.

Their hair is woolly and short, but at a distance many of them would be taken for long-haired people, in consequence of a habit of making artificial tresses some two feet in length, out of grass and the hair of a bat. Some of these appendages are so long that they fall to the middle of the back. Round the head is sometimes tied a small net with wide meshes, and the chiefs wear an odd sort of a hat. These hats are cylindrical, and decorated with a large circular ornament at each side, a plume of feathers at the top, and a long drooping tuft of grass and hair that hangs down the back. The hat forms no protection to the head, having no crown to it, and is only used as a mark of rank.

The natives also make a sort of mask, very ingeniously cut out of wood, having the mouth open and the eyes closed. The wearer looks, not through the eyes, but through some apertures which are made in the upper part of the mask. It is supposed that these masks are employed in war, when the combatants desire to disguise themselves from their opponents. This, however, is only a conjecture. I have little doubt that the wooden mask described and figured by D’Entrecasteaux is nothing more than an ornament used in the native dances. It is, in fact, the “momo,” which is described by more recent travellers. When complete, the “momo” is decorated with plumes of feathers, long tufts of hair, and a thick, coarse network, which does duty for a beard, and descends as far as the knees of the wearer.

A mask made in a precisely similar manner is used by the natives of Vancouver’s Island, but is employed by them in their dances. One of these masks is in my collection, and will be described in the course of the work.

Ear ornaments of various kinds are in favor among the New Caledonians, and some, of the natives enlarge the hole in the lobe to such an extent that it forms a long loop, the end of which falls on the shoulders. Occasionally, they try the elasticity of the ear too much, and tear it completely through. Anything seems to be worn in the ears, and when a New Caledonian cannot find a suitable ornament, he fills up the ear with a leaf or a roll of bark. They do not tattoo themselves, but draw black lines across the breast with charcoal, the lines being broad, and traced diagonally across the breast. Necklaces of various kinds are worn, and these ornaments bear a certain resemblance to those of New Guinea, consisting principally of a twisted string, to which is suspended a shell or piece of bone, carved in a manner which the natives are pleased to consider as ornamental.

Although by nature the men possess thick and stiff beards, these hirsute ornaments are generally removed, the hair being pulled up by the roots by means of a pair of shells used in lieu of tweezers.

Architecture among the New Caledonians is infinitely superior to that of Australia, and in some respects almost equals that of New Zealand. The houses are conical in shape, and often reach from ten to eleven feet in height in the middle.

The principle on which the huts are built is perfectly simple. The native architect begins by digging a hole in the ground, and planting in it a stout pole, some fifteen feet in length, and nine or ten inches in circumference. A number of smaller poles or rafters are set in the ground around the standard or central pole, their bases being planted in the earth and their tips leaning against the standard. Smaller branches are interwoven among the rafters, and the whole is rendered weather-tight by dried herbage lashed to the walls.

These simple walls are often several inches in thickness; and as the natives spread thick mats on the floor, they are well sheltered from the weather.

The entrance is very small, never above three feet in height, and on occasions can be closed with a rude door made of palm branches. Some of the latter kind of huts have regular door-posts, on which are carved rude imitations of the human face. A fire is almost always kept burning inside the hut, not so much for the sake of warmth or for culinary purposes, as to form a defence against mosquitoes. Smoke, therefore, is encouraged; and, though it may be the lesser of two evils, it forms a great drawback to the comfort of Europeans, who can defy the mosquitoes by their clothes, and can protect themselves at night by means of curtains. The central post of the house is mostly decorated with shells, and carved at the top into the shape of a human being.

Each house is usually surrounded with a fence some four or five feet in height, and within the hut there is a curious piece of furniture which gives to the rude habitation quite a civilized look. This is a wooden shelf, suspended by cords exactly like our hanging bookshelves. It is hung about four feet from the ground, but as the cords are very slight, it can support only a trifling weight. The native name for this shelf is “paite.”

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We will now proceed from domestic to military life, and devote a small space to warfare among the New Caledonians.

It is very remarkable that among these naked and peculiarly savage cannibals we should find two of the weapons of war which were in greatest favor among the civilized Romans of the classic times. These are the sling and the javelin, the latter being cast by a peculiar arrangement of a thong, so that, in point of fact, the New Caledonian warrior does not only sling the stone, but the spear also.

We will take these weapons in order, the sling coming first, as being the simpler of the two weapons.

The construction of the sling or “wendat,” as the natives call it, is very simple, the weapon being merely a doubled thong with a pouch in the middle, in which the stone is placed. This pouch is made of two small cords laid side by side, and as the smooth stone might slip out of it, the slinger always wets the missile in his mouth before placing it in the pouch. The stones are cut out of a hard kind of steatite, which can take a good polish. They are oval in shape, and are carefully ground down by friction, the surface becoming very smooth in the process.

Thirty or forty of these stones are kept in a small net, which is fastened to the left side of the slinger. In illustration No. 1, on page 893, one of the warriors is seen with his sling in his hand, and the net filled with stones fastened to his side. When the slinger wishes to hurl a stone, he does not waste time and strength by whirling the sling round and round, but merely gives it one half turn in the air, and discharges the missile with exceeding force and wonderful accuracy of aim. In consequence of only giving one half turn to the sling, the stones can be hurled nearly as fast as they can be thrown by the hand, and the weapon is therefore an exceedingly formidable one in the open field when fire-arms are not opposed to it.

We now come to the spear, or rather javelin.

This weapon is of very great length, some specimens measuring fourteen or fifteen feet from butt to point; and unless the warrior were able to supplement the natural strength of his arm by artificial means, he would not be able to throw the spear more than a few yards. He has therefore invented an instrument by which he can hurl this long and unwieldly weapon to a considerable distance. The principle on which this instrument is formed is identical with that of the Australian throw-stick, but there is a difference in the application. The Australian throw-stick is straight, rigid, and is applied to the butt of the spear, whereas the implement used by the New Caledonian is flexible, elastic, and applied to a spot a little behind the middle of the spear.

This instrument is ingeniously simple. It is nothing more than a plaited cord or thong made of a mixture of cocoa-nut fibre and fish-skin. It is a foot or more in length, and is furnished at one end with a knob, while the other is worked into a loop. This elastic cord is called by the natives “ounep.” When the warrior desires to throw a spear, he slips the loop over the forefinger of his right hand, and allows it to hang in readiness for the spear. As soon as the time comes for the spear to be thrown, the man balances the weapon for a moment so as to find the middle, and then casts the end of the thong round it in a sailor’s half-hitch, drawing it tight with his forefinger.

As long as pressure is thus kept upon the thong, it retains its hold of the spear; and as soon as it is released, “the half-hitch” gives way and allows the spear to free itself. The mode of throwing is therefore evident. The warrior holds the loop of the thong on his forefinger, the rest of the hand grasping the spear. As he throws the weapon, he loosens the hold of his hand, and so hurls the spear by means of the thong.

The classical reader will doubtless remember that this thong or “ounep” is precisely the “amentum” of the ancients, but is actually superior in its construction and manipulation. The amentum was simply a loop of cord or leather fastened to the shaft of the javelin just behind the balance. When the warrior wished to throw a spear, he grasped the shaft in his hand, inserted his fingers in the loop, and by means of the additional leverage was able to throw a heavy weapon to a considerable distance. See, for example, Ovid’s Metamorphoses, xii. 321:

“Inserit amento digitos, nec plura locutus, In juvenem torsit jaculum;”

in English, “He inserted his fingers into the amentum, and, without saying more, whirled the dart at the youth.” Commentators have been extremely perplexed about this passage. In the first place they were rather uncertain as to the meaning of the word “amentum,” and in the second place, they could not see the force of the word “torsit,” i. e. whirled. The reader will, however, see how perfectly appropriate is the term, the spear being flung with a whirling movement as a stone from a sling. The same word is used by Virgil: “Intendunt acres arcus, amentaque torquent.” Another writer also alludes to this instrument:

“Amentum digitis tende prioribus, Et totis jaculum dinige viribus;”

i. e. “Stretch the amentum with your first fingers, and aim the javelin with your full strength.”

Ingenious as was the amentum of the ancients, the ounep is far superior to it. With the ancients a separate amentum had to be fixed to each spear, while among the New Caledonians only one ounep is required.

Besides these weapons, the club is much used, and great ingenuity is shown in its manufacture. The shape and size of the clubs are extremely variable, and in some of them the natives have exhibited a surprising amount of artistic skill, the curves being singularly bold and flowing. One of these clubs, which is indeed a typical form, is in my collection. The form of the head is evidently taken from the beak of a bird, and the curves are exceedingly bold and sweeping. It is rather more than three feet in length, and it weighs almost exactly two pounds and a half.

War is in New Caledonia, as in New Zealand, the chief occupation of the men. The first lesson that a child receives is fighting, and the idea is prevalent with him as long as he lives. As soon as he is born, the boy is consecrated to the god of war, and a hard black stone is laid on his breast, as a symbol that his heart must be as hard as a stone in battle. Even the women take a share in the fighting, and, though they are not actual combatants, they follow their relatives to the battle, in order to seize the bodies of slain enemies, and drag them away to the cooking oven. Strife is always fomented by the priests from interested motives, inasmuch as the hands of the slain are their perquisites, and among the connoisseurs in cannibalism the palms of the hands are the most delicate portions of the human body.

Primarily the New Caledonians are cannibals because they are warriors, the body of a dead enemy being always supposed to be eaten by the victors. There is mostly a fight over the body of a fallen warrior, the one party trying to drag it away to the cooking oven, and the other endeavoring to save it for burial by themselves.

As a rule, however, the body is carried off by the women, who have the task of cooking it. The preparation of the body is quite a ceremonial, each part of it belonging by right to certain individuals, and even the carving being regulated by strict rules. A peculiar kind of knife is made of flat serpentine stone, oval in form, and about seven inches in length. Two holes are bored on one side of it, by means of which it is fastened to a wooden handle. This knife is called “nbouet.”

With the nbouet the body is opened, and the whole of the intestines are torn out by means of a fork made expressly for the purpose. This fork is composed of two human armbones placed side by side, about an inch apart, and fastened tightly together. They are sharply pointed, and are very effectual instruments for the purpose. Sometimes the bodies are cut up for cooking, but in many cases they are baked entire, the women priding themselves in serving them up in a sitting posture, furnished and dressed in full war costume.

Thus, then, we see that cannibalism is connected with warfare; but unfortunately it is not restricted to war. When Captain D’Entrecasteaux went in search of La Pérouse, one of the natives was eating a newly-roasted piece of meat. The naturalist to the expedition immediately recognized it as being part of the body of a child. The man who was eating it did not attempt to deny the fact, but even pointed out on the body of a little boy the part of the body which he was eating, and gave his hearers to understand that the flesh of children was very good.

This cannibalism of New Caledonia explained some curious gestures which the natives were fond of making. They used to be very familiar with their white visitors, feeling their arms and legs, looking at each other with admiration, and then whistling and smacking their lips loudly. In point of fact, they were admiring the well-fed limbs of the white men, and anticipating to each other the delights of a feast upon the plump Europeans.

As, however, flesh is but a luxury among the New Caledonians, and cannot be considered as an ordinary article of diet, the natives depend chiefly for their existence on vegetable food. Roots of various kinds are eaten by them, as well as cocoa-nut and other fruit; all the cooking, as well as the work in general, being performed by the women. Shell-fish are also much eaten, and are procured by the women. The large clam-shell is found on the shores of the island, and supplies abundance of food; while the smaller molluscs are mostly dug out of the sand by women, who frequently spend half a day up to their waists in water.

Two very strange articles of diet are in use among the New Caledonians. The first is a sort of spider, which spins large and thick nets in the woods, often incommoding travellers by the number and strength of the silken cords. They are not eaten raw, but cooked by being placed in a covered earthen jar, which is set on a brisk fire. The natives call the spider by the name of “nougui.” It is gray above, the back being covered with a fine silvery down, and below it is black.

The second article of diet is clay, of which the natives will consume a great amount. The earth in question is a soft greenish steatite, which crumbles very easily, and has the property of distending the stomach, and so allays the cravings of hunger, even though it does not nourish the body. A well-distended stomach is one of the great luxuries of a savage, and, in accordance with this idea, a man was seen to eat a piece of steatite twice as large as his fist, even though he had just taken a full meal. Some of the natives have been known to eat as much as two pounds of this substance. A similar propensity is found both in Africa and America.

When they drink at a pool or river, they have an odd fashion of dipping the water with their hands, and flinging it into their mouths, so that much more water is splashed over their heads than enters their mouths.

With regard to the bodies of those who fall in war, and are rescued from the enemy, many ceremonies are employed. According to Captain Head, in his “Voyage of the Fawn” they are “brought home with loud lamentations, and buried with great wailing and shrieking from the appointed mourners, who remain unclean often for several years after burying a great chief, and are subject to many strict observances. For weeks they continue nightly to waken the forest echoes with their cries. After ten days have elapsed, the grave is opened, and the head twisted off; and, again in this custom resembling the Andaman islanders, the teeth are distributed as relics among the relatives, and the skull preserved as a memorial by the nearest kin, who daily goes through the form of offering it food.

“The only exceptions are in the case of the remains of old women, whose teeth are sown in the yam patches as a charm to produce good crops; their skulls set up upon poles being deemed equally potent in this respect.”

The general character of the New Caledonians seems to be tolerably good, and, in spite of their evident longing after the flesh of their visitors, they are not on the whole inhospitable. They are clever thieves, and are ingenious in robbery by means of an accomplice. On one occasion, when a native was offering for sale a basket full of sling-stones, and was chaffering about the price, an accomplice came quietly behind the white man and uttered a loud yell in his ears. Naturally startled, he looked behind him, and in a moment the man with whom he was trading snatched away the basket and the goods offered in exchange, and ran away with them.

One of the officers was robbed of his cap and sword in an equally ingenious manner. He had seated himself on the ground, and for better security had placed his sword under him. Suddenly one of the natives snatched off his cap, and as he instinctively rose to rescue it, another man picked up his sword and escaped with it. They even tried to steal a ship’s boat, together with the property in it, and would not leave it until they were attacked by a strong body of armed sailors.

They make very good canoes--as, indeed, is generally the case with islanders. The largest canoes are mostly double, two boats being placed alongside of each other, and connected by a platform. They have a single mast, which is stepped toward one end of the compound vessel, and can sail with considerable swiftness, though they are not so manageable as those of New Guinea, some of which are marvels of boat-building. They can accommodate a considerable number of passengers, and have generally a fire burning on the platform, which is protected from the heat by a thick layer of earth.

A rather remarkable custom prevails among them, which derives its chief interest from the fact that it is practised in Northern Asia. This is the Kata, or scarf of felicity. It is a little scarf, of white or red material; and when two persons meet they exchange their katas--a ceremony which is analogous to shaking hands among ourselves.

Whether these savages are the aborigines of the island is doubtful. If they be so, they seem to have declined from the comparative civilization of their ancestors. This, indeed, is their own opinion; and, in support of this theory, they point to the ruins which are still to be seen, and which tell of architecture far beyond the power of the present natives. There are even the remains of an aqueduct eight miles in length, a piece of engineering which would never have entered the head of the New Caledonian of the present day. Perhaps these works of art may have been constructed by immigrants, who have since left them to perish; but, in any case, their presence in such a spot is most remarkable.

THE ISLE OF PINES.

Some thirty miles to the south-east of New Caledonia, and in fact forming part of the same group, there is a small island, called by Captain Cook the Isle of Pines, in consequence of the number of araucarias with which its hills are covered. The strait between the Isle of Pines and New Caledonia proper is nearly all shoal water, caused by the numerous coral reefs.

In many respects the inhabitants of this island resemble those of New Caledonia. They are not, however, so dark, and their features are tolerably good. They are cannibals from choice, wrapping up the bodies of the dead in banana leaves, and then cooking them in ovens. Some years ago, they contrived to indulge their taste for human flesh at the expense of their neighbors.

About 1840, it was found that sandal wood grew on the island, and several vessels proceeded thither for the sake of procuring this valuable product. At first they did so with great risk, and lost many of their men from the onslaughts of the natives. Afterward, however, a Sydney merchant set up an establishment for the collecting and storing of sandal wood and bêches-de-mer, and since that time the natives have become quite peaceable.

In course of this transitional time between utter barbarism and commerce, they learned by painful experience the power of fire-arms. As soon as they became accustomed to trade, the first thing that they did was to procure a large stock of fire-arms and to go off with them to New Caledonia, where they landed, shot as many of the natives as they could, and brought their bodies home for consumption. It is true that a constant feud raged between the two islands, but the sudden acquisition of fire-arms gave the people of the Isle of Pines a terrible advantage over their hereditary foes, and enabled them almost to depopulate the south-eastern part of the island.

They care no more for dress than the New Caledonians, but are very fond of ornament, the men appropriating all the best decorations, and leaving the women to take what they can get. The men friz their hair out as much as possible, and wrap a thin scarf round it, or sometimes cut it short, leaving only a tuft on one side of the head. The women shave off the whole of the hair, thus depriving themselves of their natural ornament, and rendering themselves very unprepossessing to European eyes. The rough work is done by them, the men reserving to themselves the noble occupations of war, fishing, house building, and canoe making, the only real work which they do being yam planting, after the ground has been prepared by the women.

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