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OLD NEW ZEALAND:
BEING INCIDENTS OF
NATIVE CUSTOMS AND CHARACTER
IN THE OLD TIMES.
By
A PAKEHA MAORI.
LONDON:
SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL
M.DCCC.LXIII.
[_The right of Translation is reserved._]
PREFACE.
To the English reader, and to most of those who have arrived in New
Zealand within the last thirty years, it may be necessary to state that
the descriptions of Maori life and manners of past times, found in
these sketches, owe nothing to fiction. The different scenes and
incidents are given exactly as they occurred, and all the persons
described are real persons.
Contact with the British settlers has of late years effected a marked
and rapid change in the manners and mode of life of the natives, and
the Maori of the present day are as unlike what they were when I first
saw them as they are still unlike a civilized people or British
subjects.
The writer has, therefore, thought it might be worth while to place a
few sketches of old Maori life on record, before the remembrance of
them has quite passed away; though in doing so he has by no means
exhausted an interesting subject, and a more full and particular
delineation of old Maori life, manners, and history has yet to be
written.
CONTENTS.
Page
CHAPTER I.
Introductory.--First View of New Zealand.--First Sight of the
Natives, and First Sensations experienced by a mere Pakeha.--A Maori
Chief's Notions of Trading in the Old Times.--A Dissertation on
"Courage."--A few Words on Dress.--The Chief's Soliloquy.--The Maori
Cry of Welcome. 1
CHAPTER II.
The Market Price of a Pakeha.--The Value of a Pakeha "as such."--
Maori Hospitality in the Good Old Times.--A respectable Friend.--
Maori Mermaids.--My Notions of the Value of Gold.--How I got
on Shore. 16
CHAPTER III.
A Wrestling Match.--Beef against Melons.--The Victor gains a Loss.
--"Our Chief."--His Speech.--His _status_ in the Tribe.--Death of
"Melons."--Rumours of Peace and War.--Getting the Pa in Fighting
Order.--My Friend the "Relation Eater."--Expectation and Preparation.
--Arrival of doubtful Friends.--Sham Fight.--The "Taki."--The War
Dance.--Another Example of Maori Hospitality.--Crocodile's Tears.--
Loose Notions about Heads.--Tears of Blood.--Brotherly Love.--
Capital Felony.--Peace. 28
CHAPTER IV.
A little Affair of "Flotsam and Jetsam."--Rebellion crushed in the
Bud.--A Pakeha's House sacked.--Maori Law.--A Maori Lawsuit.--Affair
thrown into Chancery. 61
CHAPTER V.
Every Englishman's House is his Castle.--My Estate and Castle.--How
I purchased my Estate.--Native Titles to Land, of what Nature.--Value
of Land in New Zealand.--Land Commissioners.--The Triumphs of
Eloquence.--Magna Charta. 70
CHAPTER VI.
How I kept House.--Maori Freebooters.--An Ugly Customer.--The
"Suaviter in Modo."--A Single Combat to amuse the Ladies.--The true
Maori Gentleman.--Character of the Maori People. 78
CHAPTER VII.
Excitement caused by first Contact with Europeans.--The two great
Institutions of Maori Land.--The Muru.--The Tapu.--Instances of Legal
Robbery.--Descriptions and Examples of the Muru.--Profit and
Loss.--Explanation of some of the Workings of the Law of Muru. 94
CHAPTER VIII.
The Muru falling into Disuse.--Why.--Examples of the Tapu.--The
Personal Tapu.--Evading the Tapu.--The Undertaker's Tapu.--How I got
Tabooed.--Frightful Difficulties.--How I got out of them.--The War
Tapu.--Maori War Customs. 107
CHAPTER IX.
The Tapu Tohunga.--The Maori Oracle.--Responses of the Oracle.--
Priestcraft. 136
CHAPTER X.
The Priest evokes a Spirit.--The Consequences.--A Maori Tragedy.--
The "Tohunga" again. 143
CHAPTER XI.
The Local Tapu.--The Taniwha.--The Battle of Motiti.--The Death of
Tiki Whenua.--Reflections.--Brutus, Marcus Antonius, and Tiki
Whenua.--Suicide. 151
CHAPTER XII.
The Tapa.--Instances of.--The Storming of Mokoia.--Pomare.--Hongi
Ika.--Tareha.--Honour amongst Thieves. 160
CHAPTER XIII.
"My Rangatira."--The respective Duties of the Pakeha and his
Rangatira.--Public Opinion.--A "Pakeha Kino."--Description of my
Rangatira.--His Exploits and Misadventures.--His Moral Principles.
--Decline in the Numbers of the Natives.--Proofs of former Large
Population.--Ancient Forts.--Causes of Decrease. 164
CHAPTER XIV.
Trading in the Old Times.--The Native Difficulty.--Virtue its own
Reward.--Rule, Britannia.--Death of my Chief.--His Dying.--Rescue.
--How the World goes round. 193
CHAPTER XV.
Mana.--Young New Zealand.--The Law of England.--"Pop goes the
Weasel."--Right if we have Might--God save the Queen.--Good
Advice. 204
GLOSSARY 213
OLD NEW ZEALAND.
CHAPTER I.
Introductory.--First View of New Zealand.--First Sight of the
Natives, and First Sensations experienced by a mere Pakeha.--A
Maori Chief's Notions of Trading in the Old Times.--A Dissertation
on "Courage."--A few Words on Dress.--The Chief's Soliloquy.--The
Maori Cry of Welcome.
Ah! those good old times, when first I came to New Zealand, we shall
never see their like again. Since then the world seems to have gone
wrong, somehow. A dull sort of world this, now. The very sun does not
seem to me to shine as bright as it used. Pigs and potatoes have
degenerated; and everything seems "flat, stale, and unprofitable." But
those were the times!--the "good old times"--before Governors were
invented, and law, and justice, and all that. When every one did as he
liked,--except when his neighbours would not let him, (the more shame
for them,)--when there were no taxes, or duties, or public works, or
public to require them. Who cared then whether he owned a coat?--or
believed in shoes or stockings? The men were bigger and stouter in
those days; and the women,--ah! Money was useless and might go
a-begging. A sovereign was of no use, except to make a hole in and hang
it in a child's ear. The few I brought went that way, and I have seen
them swapped for shillings, which were thought more becoming.
What cared I? A fish-hook was worth a dozen of them, and I had lots of
fish-hooks. Little did I think in those days that I should ever see
here towns and villages, banks and insurance offices, prime ministers
and bishops; and hear sermons preached, and see men hung, and all the
other plagues of civilization. I am a melancholy man. I feel somehow as
if I had got older. I am no use in these dull times. I mope about in
solitary places, exclaiming often, "Oh! where are those good old
times?" and echo, or some young Maori whelp from the Three Kings,
answers from behind a bush,--NO HEA.
I shall not state the year in which I first saw the mountains of New
Zealand appear above the sea; there is a false suspicion getting about
that I am growing old. This must be looked down, so I will at present
avoid dates. I always held a theory that time was of no account in New
Zealand, and I do believe I was right up to the time of the arrival of
the first Governor. The natives hold this opinion still, especially
those who are in debt: so I will just say, it was in the good old
times, long ago, that from the deck of a small trading schooner, in
which I had taken my passage from somewhere, that I first cast eyes on
Maori land. It _was_ Maori land then; but, alas! what is it now?
Success to you, O King of Waikato. May your _mana_ never be less;--long
may you hold at bay the demon of civilization, though fall at last I
fear you must. Plutus with golden hoof is trampling on your land-marks.
He mocks the war-song, but should _I_ see your fall, at least one
Pakeha Maori shall raise the _tangi_; and with flint and shell as of
old shall the women lament you.
Let me, however, leave these melancholy thoughts for a time, forget the
present, take courage, and talk about the past. I have not got on shore
yet; a thing I must accomplish as a necessary preliminary to looking
about me, and telling what I saw. I do not understand the pakeha way of
beginning a story in the middle; so to start fair, I must fairly get on
shore, which, I am surprised to find, was easier to _do_ than to
describe.
The little schooner neared the land, and as we came closer and closer,
I began in a most unaccountable manner to remember all the tales I had
ever heard of people being baked in ovens, with cabbage and potato
"fixins." I had before this had some considerable experience of
"savages," but as they had no regular system of domestic cookery of the
nature I have hinted at, and being, as I was in those days, a mere
pakeha (a character I have since learned to despise), I felt, to say
the least, rather curious as to the then existing demand on shore for
butchers' meat.
The ship sailed on, and I went below and loaded my pistols; not that I
expected at all to conquer the country with them, but somehow because I
couldn't help it. We soon came to anchor in a fine harbour before the
house of the very first settler who had ever entered it, and to this
time he was the only one. He had, however, a few Europeans in his
employ; and there was at some forty miles distance a sort of nest of
English, Irish, Scotch, Dutch, French, and American runaways from South
Sea whalers, with whom were also congregated certain other individuals
of the pakeha race, whose manner of arrival in the country was not
clearly accounted for, and to inquire into which was, as I found
afterwards, considered extremely impolite, and a great breach of
_bienseance_. They lived in a half-savage state, or, to speak
correctly, in a savage and-a-half state, being greater savages by far
than the natives themselves.
I must, however, turn back a little, for I perceive I am not on shore
yet.
The anchoring of a vessel of any size, large or small, in a port of New
Zealand, in those days, was an event of no small importance; and,
accordingly, from the deck we could see the shore crowded by several
hundreds of natives, all in a great state of excitement, shouting and
running about, many with spears and clubs in their hands, and
altogether looking to the inexperienced newcomer very much as if they
were speculating on an immediate change of diet. I must say these, at
least, were my impressions on seeing the mass of shouting,
gesticulating, tattooed fellows, who were exhibiting before us, and who
all seemed to be mad with excitement of some sort or other.
Shortly after we came to anchor, a boat came off, in which was Mr.
----, the settler I have mentioned, and also the principal chief of the
tribe of natives inhabiting this part of the country. Mr. ---- gave me
a hearty welcome to New Zealand, and also an invitation to his house,
telling me I was welcome to make it my home for any unlimited time,
till I had one of my own. The chief also, having made some inquiries
first of the captain of the schooner--such as, whether I was a
_rangatira_, if I had plenty of _taonga_ (goods) on board, and other
particulars; and having been answered by the captain in the most
satisfactory manner,--came up to me and gave me a most sincere welcome.
(I love sincerity.) He would have welcomed me, however, had I been as
poor as Job, for pakehas were, in those days, at an enormous premium.
Even Job, at the worst (a _pakeha_ Job), might be supposed to have an
old coat, or a spike nail, or a couple of iron hoops left on hand, and
these were "good trade" in the times I speak of; and under a process
well understood at the time by my friend the chief, were sure to change
hands soon after his becoming aware of their whereabouts.
His idea of trade was this:--He took them, and never paid for them till
he took something else of greater value, which, whatever it might be,
he never paid for till he made a third still heavier haul. He always
paid just what he thought fit to give, and when he chose to withdraw
his patronage from any pakeha who might be getting too knowing for him,
and extend it to some newer arrival, he never paid for the last "lot of
trade;" but, to give him his due, he allowed his pakeha friends to make
the best bargain they could with the rest of the tribe, with the
exception of a few of his nearest relations, over whose interests he
would watch. So, after all, the pakeha would make a living; but I have
never heard of one of the old traders who got rich by trading with the
natives: there were too many drawbacks of the nature I have mentioned,
as well as others unnecessary to mention just yet, which prevented it.
I positively vow and protest to you, gentle and patient reader, that if
ever I get safe on shore, I will do my best to give you satisfaction;
let me get once on shore, and I am all right: but, unless I get my feet
on _terra firma_, how can I ever begin my tale of the good old times?
As long as I am on board ship I am cramped and crippled, and a mere
slave to Greenwich time, and can't get on. Some people, I am aware,
would make a dash at it, and manage the thing without the aid of boat,
canoe, or life preserver; but such people are, for the most part,
dealers in fiction, which I am not: my story is a true story, not
"founded on fact," but fact itself, and so I cannot manage to get on
shore a moment sooner than circumstances will permit.
It may be that I ought to have landed before this; but I must confess I
don't know any more about the right way to tell a story, than a native
minister knows how to "come" a war dance. I declare the mention of the
war dance calls up a host of reminiscences, pleasurable and painful,
exhilarating and depressing, in such a way as no one but a few, a very
few, pakeha Maori can understand. Thunder!--but no; let me get ashore;
how can I dance on the water, or before I ever knew how? On shore I
will get this time, I am determined, in spite of fate--so now for it.
The boat of my friend Mr. ---- being about to return to the shore,
leaving the chief and Mr. ---- on board, and I seeing the thing had to
be done, plucked up courage, and having secretly felt the priming of my
pistols under my coat, got into the boat.
I must here correct myself. I have said "plucked up courage," but that
is not exactly my meaning. The fact is, kind reader, if you have
followed me thus far, you are about to be rewarded for your
perseverance, I am determined to make you as wise as I am myself on at
least one important subject, and that is not saying a little, let me
inform you, as I can hardly suppose you have made the discovery for
yourself on so short an acquaintance. Falstaff, who was a very clever
fellow, and whose word cannot be doubted, says, "The better part of
valour is discretion." Now, that being the case, what in the name of
Achilles,--(he was a rank coward, though, for he went about knocking
people on the head, being himself next thing to invulnerable, as he
could not be hurt till he turned his back to the enemy. There is a deep
moral in this same story about Achilles, which, perhaps, by-and-by, I
may explain to you)--what, I say again, in the name of everything
valorous, can the worser part of valour be, if "discretion" be the
better? The fact is, my dear sir, I don't believe in courage at all,
nor ever did: but there is something far better, which has carried me
through many serious scrapes with _eclat_ and safety; I mean the
appearance of courage. If you have this, you may drive the world before
you. As for real courage, I do not believe there can be any such thing.
A man who sees himself in danger of being killed by his enemy and is
not in a precious fright, is simply not courageous but mad. The man who
is not frightened because he cannot see the danger, is a person of weak
mind--a fool--who ought to be locked up lest he walk into a well with
eyes open; but the appearance of courage--or rather, as I deny the
existence of the thing itself, that appearance which is thought to be
courage--that is the thing will carry you through! get you made K.C.B.,
Victoria Cross, and all that! Men by help of this quality do the most
heroic actions, being all the time ready to die of mere fright, but
keeping up a good countenance all the time.
Here is the secret--pay attention, it is worth much money--if ever you
get into any desperate battle or skirmish, and feel in such a state of
mortal fear that you almost wish to be shot to get rid of it, just say
to yourself--"If I am so preciously frightened, what must the other
fellow be?" The thought will refresh you; your own self-esteem will
answer that, of course, the enemy is more frightened than you are,
consequently the nearer you feel to running away the more reason you
have to stand. Look at the last gazette of the last victory, where
thousands of men at one shilling _per diem_, minus certain very serious
deductions, "covered themselves with glory." The thing is clear: the
other fellows ran first; and that is all about it! My secret is a very
good secret; but one must of course do the thing properly: no matter of
what kind the danger is, you must look it boldly in the face and keep
your wits about you, and the more frightened you get the more
determined you must be--to keep up appearances--and half the danger is
gone at once. So now, having corrected myself, as well as given some
valuable advice, I shall start again for the shore, by saying that I
plucked up a very good appearance of courage and got on board the boat.
For the honour and glory of the British nation, of which I considered
myself in some degree a representative on this momentous occasion, I
had dressed myself in one of my best suits. My frock-coat was, I fancy,
"the thing;" my waistcoat was the result of much and deep thought, in
cut, colour, and material; I may venture to affirm that the like had
not been often seen in the southern hemisphere. My tailor has, as I
hear, long since realized a fortune and retired, in consequence of the
enlightenment he at different times received from me on the great
principles of, not clothing, but embellishing the human subject. My hat
looked down criticism, and my whole turn-out was such as I calculated
would "astonish the natives," and create awe and respect for myself
individually and the British nation in general; of whom I thought fit
to consider myself no bad sample.
Here I will take occasion to remark that some attention to ornament and
elegance in the matter of dress is not only allowable but commendable.
Man is the only beast to whom a discretionary power has been left in
this respect: why then should he not take a hint from nature, and
endeavour to beautify his person? Peacocks and birds of paradise could
no doubt live and get fat though all their feathers were the colour of
a Quaker's leggings, but see how they are ornamented! Nature has, one
would say, exhausted herself in beautifying them. Look at the tiger and
leopard! Could not they murder without their stripes and spots?--but
see how their coats are painted! Look at the flowers--at the whole
universe--and you will see everywhere the ornamental combined with the
useful. Look, then, to the cut and colour of your coat, and do not
laugh at the Maori of past times, who, not being "seised" of a coat,
because he has never been able to seize one, carves and tattoos legs,
arms, and face.
The boat is, however, darting towards the shore, rapidly propelled by
four stout natives. My friend ---- and the chief are on board. The
chief has got his eye on my double gun, which is hanging up in the
cabin. He takes it down and examines it closely. He is a good judge of
a gun. It is the best _tupara_ he has ever seen, and his speculations
run something very like this:--"A good gun, a first-rate gun; I must
have this; I must _tapu_ it before I leave the ship:--[here he pulls a
piece of the fringe from his cloak and ties it round the stock of the
gun, thereby rendering it impossible for me to sell, give away, or
dispose of it in any way to any one but himself]--I wonder what the
pakeha will want for it? I will promise him as much flax or as many
pigs as ever he likes for it. True, I have no flax just now, and am
short of pigs, they were almost all killed at the last _hahunga_; but
if he is in a hurry he can buy the flax or pigs from the people, which
ought to satisfy him. Perhaps he would take a piece of land!--that
would be famous. I would give him a piece quite close to the _kainga_,
where I would always have him close to me. I hope he may take the land;
then I should have two pakehas, him and ----. All the inland chiefs
would envy me. This ---- is getting too knowing; he has taken to hiding
his best goods of late, and selling them before I knew he had them.
It's just the same as thieving, and I won't stand it. He sold three
muskets the other day to the Ngatiwaki, and I did not know he had them,
or I should have taken them. I could have paid for them some time or
another. It was wrong, wrong, very wrong, to let that tribe have those
muskets. He is not their pakeha; let them look for a pakeha for
themselves. Those Ngatiwaki are getting too many muskets--those three
make sixty-four they have got, besides two _tupara_. Certainly we have
a great many more, and the Ngatiwaki are our relations; but then there
was Kohu, we killed, and Patu, we stole his wife. There is no saying
what these Ngatiwaki may do if they should get plenty of muskets; they
are game enough for anything. It was wrong to give them those muskets;
wrong, wrong, wrong!" After experience enabled me to tell just what the
chief's soliloquy was, as above.
But all this time the boat is darting to the shore; and as the distance
is only a couple of hundred yards, I can hardly understand how it is
that I have not yet landed. The crew are pulling like mad, being
impatient to show the tribe the prize they have made,--a regular
_pakeha rangatira_ as well as a _rangatira pakeha_ (two very different
things), who has lots of tomahawks, and fish-hooks, and blankets, and a
_tupara_, and is even suspected to be the owner of a great many "pots"
of gunpowder! "He is going to stop with the tribe, he is going to
trade, he is going to be a pakeha _for us_." These last conclusions
were, however, jumped at; the "pakeha" not having then any notions of
trade or commerce, and being only inclined to look about and amuse
himself.
The boat nears the shore, and now arises from a hundred voices the call
of welcome,--"_Haere mai! haere mai! hoe mai! hoe mai! haere mai,
e-te-pa-ke-ha, haere mai!_" Mats, hands, and certain ragged petticoats
put into requisition for that occasion, all at the same time waving in
the air in sign of welcome. Then a pause. Then, as the boat came
nearer, another burst of _haere mai!_ But unaccustomed as I was then to
the Maori salute, I disliked the sound. There was a wailing melancholy
cadence that did not strike me as being the appropriate tone of
welcome; and as I was quite ignorant up to this time of my own
importance, wealth, and general value as a pakeha, I began, as the boat
closed in with the shore, to ask myself whether possibly this same
"_haere mai_" might not be the Maori for "dilly, dilly, come and be
killed." There was, however, no help for it now; we were close to the
shore, and so, putting on the most unconcerned countenance possible, I
prepared to make my _entree_ into Maori land in a proper and dignified
manner.