which plays for three minutes and then is quiet for eleven. Here
is a distant view from the opposite bank of the river; and here 23
we see the geyser at work with great vigour. Notice the curious
projection in the foreground of the last picture; it is the trunk 24
of a tree, petrified by the deposit of silica, which is not
white here but pale coffee-colour. There is a rainbow, too, in
the vapour above, which is unfortunately beyond the capacity of
our camera. Other smaller geysers are all round us with deposits
of claret-colour, black and yellow, due to the different salts
dissolved in the hot water. The ground shakes with the explosions
of steam beneath us, and everywhere is heat and vapour; yet all
the time the cold waters of the Wairakei River are flowing by
within a few feet of us. Scattered over the valley are beautiful
lakes and pools of different colours. Here is one of them, the
Blue Lake, lying in a corner of an old crater; the perpendicular 25
walls which form the bank in front of us are white striped with
orange.
Everywhere in this district volcanic agencies have changed the
face of nature. In one part we find long stretches of grey
pumice plains, with no vegetation but dusty brown fern. In
another part, great deposits of sulphur have been laid down over 26
the earth. It is a country with a beauty of its own, but more
attractive to the tourist than to the colonist and settler.
It still remains a barrier separating the centres of white
settlement and only recently crossed by the trunk line of railway.
It was in this wild country, to which the rail and coach now
bring curious visitors from all parts of the world, that not many
years ago the Maoris made their last stand against British power.
East and west of the lake is the King country of which we hear
much in history; except for the tourist it is still in the main
left to the Maoris.
In Australia, as we have seen, the real obstacles to settlement
were the climate and the character of the country; the aborigines
were pushed back into the wilder districts or simply crushed out
of existence by the civilisation of the white man. Not so the
Maori: he has been a very important element in the life of New
Zealand, whether as friend or enemy of the white invader, from
the time of the earliest settlers--the whalers of Cook Strait,
and the traders, boat-builders, and missionaries of the Bay
of Islands which lies on the east coast of the long northern
peninsula. The British have been settled in New Zealand barely
three-quarters of a century, as the proclamation of annexation
dates only from 1840; while the Maori has been in possession for
five or six centuries at least and shows no disposition to be
crowded out. He was, when first we met him, on a far higher level
than the aborigines of Australia.
Who, then, are the Maoris? They are a brown race, a race of
seamen who came in their long double canoes from the islands to
the north and settled along the neck of North Island--the Fish
of Maui as they called it--and at Otago and some few other
points in South Island. They brought with them their island
customs, especially the division into families and clans which
were always fighting among themselves. In New Zealand they found
all the materials for their usual mode of existence: timber for
their houses and sea-going canoes, native flax for the weaving
of clothes, stones for their weapons, as they had no knowledge
of metals; and fish everywhere in the rivers, lakes, and seas.
So here they built their houses, with little patches of garden
for their few vegetables, while the surrounding country was the
common possession of the clan, whence they added roots, berries,
and wild birds to the larder. Everywhere, in the best positions
for defence, were dotted about their fortified enclosures, or 27
pahs, in which they took refuge in the numerous clan feuds. Their
religion consisted of a kind of fetichism, and their whole life
was subject to the principle of _tapu_, or taboo as we commonly
spell it, a principle common over all this part of the Pacific,
and among savage races elsewhere. The Maoris were chivalrous
fighters, eloquent orators, and careful preservers of the
traditions of their past history. Such was the race which, in the
nineteenth century, contested the settlement of the island with
us.
Here is a portrait of a chief showing the method of tattooing 28
the face. Here again we see him with his _taiaha_, or staff of
office: he looks civilised enough now; in fact, dressed as he 29
is, he might be mistaken for an Englishman, but doubtless he was
very different in the old days. He is nearly ninety years old,
and so must have seen the settlement and fighting almost from
the very beginning. The building behind the group is a meeting
house of the usual Maori shape, though the galvanised iron roof
seems scarcely to agree with the elaborate ornamentation of
the woodwork. Notice the curious scroll carving on the fetich
pillars: it is a favourite design among the Maoris and appears
also in the tattooing of their bodies.
We see the Maori here in European dress and we find him entering
Parliament and the learned professions, or becoming a successful
farmer and grazier in every way as civilised as ourselves. But
he is not anxious to be a mere imitator of the white man, as
he is intensely proud of his own race and past history. In the
remoter districts he still clings to his ancient fashion of life.
Here is a typical group, in native dress, and here is the simple 30
private house of a chief. Again we have an interesting portrait 31
of the daughter of a chief, holding her father’s heavy staff; her 32
curious dress is largely made up of the feathers of the wingless
Kiwi, which we have already seen.
The Maori dances are among the most interesting of their social
customs. We may perhaps see the _haka_, a survival of the 33
old war-dance, performed by half-clad warriors. It is now a
ceremonial dance of welcome. Very different is the _poi_, the 34
pretty action-dance and song of women and girls, which we may
see in the dancing-house of any native village. We notice that
the costumes of the dancers are made up of native flax and
feathers. The chief native sport is the canoe race, as the water
is everything to the Maori. Here is one of the huge dug-out war 35
canoes, hewn from a single tree-trunk, and now becoming somewhat
rare; and here again we see his canoe used to mark the grave of 36
a chief.
We are now in the district south of the Bay of Plenty and near
Lake Rotorua, which we reach by a railway running up the valley
of the Thames. Here is a typical scene. In the group before us a 37
woman is smoking a pipe; we may often see the same thing among
the peasants of Ireland. Down below, a crowd of Maori children 38
are bathing in the stream, while the tourists watch them from
the bridge. The place is called Whakarewarewa, a name rather
difficult to pronounce. This is the northern end of the geyser
district, which we have already visited. Here we see the tourists 39
again, with their cameras, waiting for the great Wairoa Geyser
to start; and here is the geyser playing. Not far away are some 40
Maori women cooking by the steam heat provided by nature. 41
The centre of this region is Lake Rotorua, calm and cold,
while all around on its banks are hot springs, geysers and
boiling mud-holes. Here, where a few years ago was only bush,
or primitive village, a fine modern town has sprung up for the 42
benefit of the tourist in search of beautiful scenery, or the
invalid coming to the health-giving waters. Not far away is
another lake, Rotomahana, in a huge basin formed by the eruption 43
which destroyed the famous terraces. Here we may enjoy the
strange experience of boating on boiling water, with the geysers
working all around us. Volcanic activity is everywhere in this
wonderful country, and it is only natural that round it have
gathered countless Maori legends.
We can easily understand the fondness of the Maoris for the
water. They were a race of islanders and fishermen, never really
happy unless their houses were built close to the water’s edge.
This determined their mode of settlement; they only took to the
dry land of the interior as a refuge from their enemies. So we
found them, when first we entered the island, scattered along the
narrow part of the Fish, where are bays and inlets in abundance,
and along the coasts of the Bay of Plenty and the Taranaki Bight.
Lake, river, and marsh were their dwelling places; and when we
find them established of their own will in the interior, it is
on the banks of Lake Taupo, a small sea in their eyes. The white
settler wanted, in the main, the drier districts for his farms
and cattle, that is, the parts of least value to the Maori;
but none the less, settlement was not effected without a
generation of trouble and a long period of petty warfare.
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 105._
OLD GOVERNMENT HOUSE: WELLINGTON.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 116._
RAPIDS ON THE WAIKATO.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 108._
GREAT WAIRAKEI GEYSER.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 111._
A CHIEF’S DAUGHTER.]
Down to 1830, except for the missionaries, the Maoris knew us
chiefly through the trading ships which visited the islands,
and the few white men, not real settlers, who lived the life of
the natives and sometimes took part in their clan feuds. The
main occupation of the Maoris was fighting among themselves; and
it was the petition of some chiefs in the Bay of Islands for
protection from another clan which first led to the dispatch of a
British official from New South Wales. This official had no real
power and depended for his information as to the natives entirely
on the missionary interpreters. Then a Frenchman intervened, and
in 1835 proclaimed himself sovereign of New Zealand, apparently
on the strength of some land which he had bought years before at
Hokianga. This led to a league of the northern tribes, headed by
the missionaries, which demanded British protection.
Next we hear of a French bishop setting up a mission at Hokianga,
and a French syndicate buying land in Banks Peninsula, in 1838;
while the English Land Company, started by Gibbon Wakefield,
dispatched its first batch of colonists in the next year. As the
result of these movements, the British Government was forced
to take action, and the Governor of New South Wales promptly
proclaimed our authority over the whole of New Zealand. His
agent, Captain Hobson, concluded the Treaty of Waitangi, at the
Bay of Islands, in 1840; by this agreement the native chiefs
recognised British suzerainty. South Island was occupied just
in time, as Hobson’s officers reached the Banks Peninsula only
four days in advance of a French warship and party of French
colonists. So that it was really France which hurried us on to
the effective occupation of New Zealand.
The later history of our relations with the natives all hinges
on the land question. The New Zealand Company, and many private
speculators as well, bargaining through interpreters, believed
that they had bought enormous areas of land for a mere nothing:
the Maoris imagined that they had sold very little. Moreover,
it was very doubtful who really had the power to sell the land,
since the waste lands of the Maoris were all held in common.
To settle the disputes the Home Government sent out a special
Commissioner who decided that most of the bargains could not be
allowed to stand. Even so the Maoris found it hard to appreciate
our ideas as to sale and possession of land. There was endless
trouble until Sir George Grey was sent over from South Australia
in 1845, learnt the native language, and reduced both sides
to order. For comparatively small sums he succeeded in buying
gradually those parts of the country which were most essential
to the white settlers, while leaving plenty for the support of
the original inhabitants; for we must remember that the Maoris
were very few in proportion to the area of the country. Grey was
popular with the Maoris, and when he left, in 1855, the country
was fairly well organised.
But the land question was not yet finally settled. In 1857, the
Maoris tried to federate under a native king, the main object
of the association being to oppose the further sale of land to
the white settlers. The whole of Central Maoriland, east and
west of Lake Taupo, was unfriendly to us. The trouble came to a
head over a land claim in the Taranaki district, and the result
was over ten years of raids and casual fighting which could
hardly be called organised war, since it moved from district
to district, and the different tribes had no common policy or
unity. As the sections were subdued from time to time, the usual
penalty inflicted was confiscation of land; so that by 1870
the whole of the coast strip, from the north of Hawkes Bay
round by Wellington to the Mokau River on the west, was in our
possession. So, too, was all the land on both sides of the Lower
Waikato, and a narrow fringe along the Bay of Plenty. Thus there
was practically a ring fence put round Central Maoriland, and
until quite recently there was no connexion between Wellington
and Auckland across this isolated block. Sir George Grey, who
had returned as Governor, in 1861, was largely responsible for
laying down the lines on which the Maori problem was finally and
successfully solved.
One interesting result of the war was that Wellington became
the capital instead of Auckland. Auckland was the original
settlement, moved from the Bay of Islands in 1842, and marked
out by Hobson as the future capital. By its position it divided
the tribes of the north from those of the south, and this was a
great advantage in the early days of settlement. Port Nicholson,
later Wellington, was founded in the same year by colonists of
the New Zealand Company; while New Plymouth, in Taranaki, was
settled in 1841. So we have three original and contemporary
settlements, Hawkes Bay being split off from Wellington later.
We have already seen a similar process in South Island. After
1865, the population of South Island increased very rapidly,
until it exceeded that of North Island, while the Maoris in the
latter were thought to be as numerous as the white people. It was
inevitable that the capital should be brought nearer the centre
of power of the white population, and so, in 1865, Wellington was
chosen as the capital by a committee of Australians to which the
question was referred.
We have seen the importance of the Taupo district in past
history, and how throughout, as in South Island, the structure
of the country has profoundly influenced its development and
the relations of the settlers with the Maoris. If instead of
travelling up the trunk line of railway we had continued along
the coast to New Plymouth, we should have realised the meaning
of the purchase and confiscation of the narrow strip all round.
We noticed before how the rivers radiate from the Taupo district
in three directions to the sea; but in their upper courses they
are of no use, since they flow between forest-clad hills, in
deep gorges, where the stream is often broken by rapids, such as 44
we see here, on the Upper Waikato. The river up here does not
seem to be of much value for navigation, and though the scenery
is beautiful the river valley is not attractive to the settler.
Lower down it is different.
We may reach the coast by following the line of the Wanganui,
the most beautiful river in New Zealand. For scores of miles we
rush down, in the little launch. In one reach the river is swift
but smooth, running between sloping, densely forested banks; in
another steep fern-clad cliffs close in to form a gorge through 45
which the water foams and swirls in rapids. Above, we may catch 46
sight of a Maori village; all the way down we meet canoes, slowly
poling against the swift current; while lively parties of Maoris
board us at every landing. Below Pipiriki the scenery changes,
and near the sea we pass through open level country dotted with
sheep and dairy farms, and these are steadily pushing the forest
rim further back. Along the coast strip there is a whole string
of small agricultural towns which suggest to us that the country
round is of great value to the farmer. It is the same all the
way to New Plymouth which lies under the shadow of Mount Egmont,
a huge detached volcanic cone. Everywhere, in the clearings by
the railway, are prosperous-looking dairy farms, the Taranaki
district being specially famous for the quantity and quality of
its dairy produce. Why is this so? The district is warm, it is
also moist, as it lies on the west coast; in fact Mount Egmont
enjoys the heaviest rainfall in the whole island. Here is a farm 47
in Taranaki with the mountain in the distance, and here we have 48
a near view of the great cone.
The economic progress of North Island, so far as we have seen 49
it, has consisted largely in the occupation of the lowlands near
the river mouths, and the gradual clearing of the forest further
inland--a rather different forest from that of South Island,
since the climate is warmer and drier. To open up the country for
farming we had to reduce the hunting grounds of the Maori, and
even to drain, in spite of his opposition, some of his favourite
marshes. As a result of the settlement we find in the south-east,
south and south-west, butter, wool, meat and timber produced in
large quantities; while in the centre we have nothing but the
scenery and some forest as yet untouched.
If we think of the products which are most valuable to New
Zealand at the present day, we shall find that with the exception
of timber they have been introduced from abroad by the white
settlers and were unknown to the Maoris. But the marshland, dear
to the Maori heart, produces one plant which was necessary to
the natives in the past and is still very useful to us. This is
the New Zealand flax, though it is more like hemp than the flax
from which linen is made in the northern hemisphere. The Maoris
wove the fibre of this plant into clothes. Here we see the long 50
blade-like leaves being cut in the swamp; we follow it to the
mills where it is unloaded and sorted into lengths. Inside the
mill it is put through various processes until the fibre finally
appears as a rope or bale of fine white twine ready for the 51
market. In this form it is sent from the mill all over the world
and commands prices as high as Manila hemp with which perhaps we
are more familiar.
We will now leave the south and pay a short visit to the
northern districts. Here the conditions are somewhat different.
There is gold to be found at the base of the Coromandel
Peninsula, and it is mined largely from the quartz rock, not
merely washed from the alluvium as in South Island. This has led
to the growth of a group of small mining towns. There is coal,
too, in the basin of the Waikato and in the districts north of
Auckland. The presence of these minerals in itself would lead us
to expect a difference between the north and south of the island;
but the difference extends further, to the vegetable products of
the soil. We are moving out of the west wind region into the zone
where, as in Victoria, the greater part of the rain falls in the
mild winter, and the summer is dry and hot though tempered by the
nearness of the sea. It is a land where the orange and the vine
grow well, in great contrast to the cool and moist region in the
south of South Island. Many people find the change from Auckland
to Dunedin or Invercargill very trying to the constitution.
North Auckland has its forests, but they are different from those
of the south, for here and here alone grows the Kauri pine. Here 52
is pictured the life of the tree. First we see it growing proudly 53
in the forest; next the lumbermen are at work on the huge trunk; 54
finally the logs are hauled away, and at any of the little ports
of the peninsula we may see the timber ships loading; here, for
instance, is a Norwegian sailing ship taking in a cargo for 55
Liverpool. The Kauri pine is responsible too for a curious local
industry. The forests of the past have left masses of gum buried
in the swamps, and many labourers are employed in spearing or
digging for it. They become very expert in finding likely spots
in which to probe. Here we have a group of Croatian diggers ready 56
to set out for the day’s work; notice the long slender spears
which they carry and the great swamp saw for digging out the
gum. We may see them scraping the gum and then follow them home
in the evening over the desolate plain to their primitive camp. 57
It is a strange industry carried on by these foreigners, and the
life seems hard, but the resin is one of the most useful for
making our varnishes.
We have already noticed the great number of bays and inlets along
the long northern neck of the island. In the far north is the
Bay of Islands, the site of the earliest settlement, represented 58
now only by the small town of Russell. Fifty miles further south
we have the deep inlet of Whangarei Harbour, where a port and
a short railway line mark the presence of coal in the country
behind. Finally, on Waitemata Harbour, a western arm of the wide
Hauraki Gulf, stands Auckland, the former capital and still the 59
largest town in New Zealand. The population of the city with its
suburbs is now over a hundred thousand. Only eight miles away by
rail is Onehunga, on Manukau Harbour, a gulf almost landlocked 60
but opening into the waters of the Tasman Sea.
The best way to appreciate Auckland is to approach it from the
sea. As we steam along the coast from the north, on our left is
the curiously shaped Rangitoto Island, an extinct volcano; on
our right is a long peninsula, with two low rounded hills, also
volcanic, joined together by a low neck of land on which stands
the suburb of Devonport. Across this neck we get a brief glimpse
of the city standing on two groups of small hills with narrow
valleys running down to the harbour between them. Then we turn
round the North Head and suddenly the whole bay, two miles broad,
opens out before us. On our left are the residential suburbs of
Remuera and Parnell, with houses and gardens running down to the
water’s edge; further up the bay is the main city with its long
quays busy with traffic, and large steamers anchored in the deep
channel. Beyond are more suburbs, and we can follow the winding
inlet for fifteen miles through beautiful scenery which reminds
us somewhat of Port Jackson. On the north side again another
city is growing up, so that Auckland seems to be built round a
great lake, open at the two ends. The air is clear and free from
smoke and everywhere the sparkling blue water reflects the bright
sunshine. Here we see Auckland, looking across the water from 61
Devonport, and here we look down on it from Mount Victoria. 62
[Illustration: AUCKLAND.]
Auckland, for its beauty, has been styled the Naples of the
South, and, like Naples, it has its volcanoes. We have noticed
some of these already, and in the neighbouring country over sixty
small cones, such as the one before us, can be counted within a 63
radius of ten miles. Even the hills on which the city stands are
partly built up of volcanic debris. Fortunately for Auckland the
volcanoes are no longer active, and it lacks also the picturesque
dirt and squalor of Naples. It is modern, clean and prosperous.
It has also something more than beautiful scenery to recommend
it. Though it suffered in some ways by the removal of the capital
to Wellington, it is still, and is likely to remain the chief
port-of-call in the Dominion. It is near to Sydney and is the
natural centre for the trade of the neighbouring Pacific islands.
It is the last port of departure for vessels sailing between
Australia and America; and when the Panama Canal is finished, it
will stand on the shortest route from the eastern United States
to Sydney and Melbourne, and an alternative route to the Suez
Canal for the United Kingdom and the whole of Western Europe. It
is the chief link connecting New Zealand with the outer world,
and a fit point of departure for our final cruise among the
islands to the north.
LECTURE VIII
FIJI AND THE WESTERN PACIFIC