A MAORI WELCOME.
I was much amused with the punctilios used in the visit of ceremony paid
to King George. Hongi, accompanied by about a dozen of his chiefs,
advanced towards our settlement, leaving their guns and hatchets behind
them; as they approached, all our tribe discharged their pieces in the
air. When they met, all rubbed noses (a ceremony never to be dispensed
with on formal occasions). They were then conducted by King George to his
huts on the beach, and in the enclosure in front of them the warriors
squatted on the ground. Hongi, being tabooed, or under the immediate
protection of their Atua, or God, still sat apart. Then the mother of
George, called Tururo, or the Queen, and who is regarded quite as a sybil
by the whole tribe, approached Hongi with the greatest respect and
caution, and seated herself some paces from his feet. She then began,
with a most melancholy cadence (her eyes streaming with tears and fixed
upon the ground), the song of welcome. All their meetings of ceremony or
friendship begin with the shedding of copious floods of tears; and as
Hongi's visit was such an unhoped for and unexpected honour, so much
greater in proportion was the necessity for their lamentations. This
woeful song lasted half an hour, and all the assembly were soon in tears;
and though at first I was inclined to turn it into ridicule, I was soon
in the same state myself. The pathetic strain, and the scene altogether,
was most impressive. As the song proceeded, I was informed of the nature
of the subject, which was a theme highly calculated to affect all
present. She began by complimenting the wounded warrior, deploring the
incurable state of his wound, and regretting that God was wanting him,
and was about so soon to take him from his friends! Then she recounted
some of his most celebrated deeds of valour, naming and deploring the
number of his friends who had fallen bravely in the wars, and lamenting
that the enemies who had killed them were still living! This part seemed
to affect them powerfully; and when Tururo ceased her song (being quite
exhausted) they all rose, thus demonstrating their respect and
approbation.
This was followed by a general attack upon the good things King George
had prepared for them. The slaves came flocking in, bearing baskets of
hot kumaras, potatoes, and fish. I observed their tears had not spoiled
their appetites; they ate voraciously. After having done great honour to
the feast, they all started on their feet for a dance, which lasted a
long while, and with which they concluded the evening.
The dances of all savage nations are beautiful, but those of the New
Zealanders partake also of the horrible. The regularity of their
movements is truly astonishing; and the song, which always accompanies a
dance, is most harmonious. They soon work themselves up to a pitch of
frenzy; the distortions of their face and body are truly dreadful, and
fill the mind with horror. Love and war are the subjects of their songs
and dances; but the details of the latter passion are by far the most
popular among them. I was astonished to find that their women mixed in
the dance indiscriminately with the men, and went through all those
horrid gestures with seemingly as much pleasure as the warriors
themselves.
The next morning I was awakened, at daybreak, by the most dismal sounds I
had ever heard. I started up, and found it proceeded from the tribes
parting with each other. They had divided themselves into little parties,
each forming a circle, and were crying most piteously, and cutting their
flesh as a cook would score pork for roasting. On such occasions each is
armed with a sharp shell, or, if he can possibly obtain so valuable a
prize, a piece of a broken glass bottle. All were streaming with tears
and blood, while Hongi and his friends embarked in their large and
richly-ornamented canoes, and sailed from our beach. After his departure,
I soon discovered that, notwithstanding their apparent affection, King
George and his friends were most happy their visitors had left them; and
that it was more the dread of Hongi's power, than love for him, that
induced them to treat him with such respect and homage.