NEW ZEALAND--_Continued_.
DOMESTIC LIFE.
CEREMONIES ATTENDANT ON BIRTH -- PREVALENCE AND CAUSES OF
INFANTICIDE -- A CURIOUS INSTANCE OF SUPERSTITION -- NAMES AND THEIR
SIGNIFICATION -- THE CEREMONY OF SPRINKLING -- THE RECITATIONS --
CHANGES OF NAME -- MARRIAGE -- COURTSHIP AND WIFE-SNATCHING --
AMUSEMENTS OF THE NEW ZEALANDERS -- THE SWING, OR GIANT STRIDE
-- DRAUGHTS AND OTHER SEDENTARY GAMES -- CHILDREN’S SPORTS --
TOP-SPINNING, KITE-FLYING -- AND CAT’S-CRADLE -- SWIMMING AND DIVING
-- CURIOUS PETS: DOGS, PIGS, AND PARROTS -- BALL-PLAYING -- MUSIC AND
SINGING -- CHARACTER OF THE SONGS -- MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS -- THE FIFE,
THE WAR TRUMPET, AND THE WAR BELL -- CURIOUS MODE OF SALUTATION --
THE “TANGI,” AND ITS LUDICROUS APPEARANCE -- ITS WEARISOME EFFECT ON
A FOREIGNER -- UNCERTAIN TEMPER OF THE MAORIES -- STRENGTH OF MEMORY,
AND CURIOSITY.
We will now examine the domestic life of the New Zealander, and begin
at the beginning, _i. e._ with his birth.
As is mostly the case in those nations which do not lead the artificial
life of civilization, there is very little trouble or ceremony about
the introduction of a new member of society. The mother does not
trouble herself about medical attendants or nurses, but simply goes off
into some retired place near a stream, and seldom takes with her even a
companion of her own sex. When the baby is born, the mother bathes her
child and then herself in the stream, ties the infant on her back, and
in a short time resumes the business in which she was engaged. Until
the child is named the mother is sacred, or “tapu,” and may not be
touched by any one.
The New Zealand women are too often guilty of the crime of infanticide,
as indeed might be imagined to be the case in a land where human life
is held at so cheap a rate. Various causes combine to produce this
result. If, for example, the child is deformed or seems sickly, it
is sacrificed as an act of mercy toward itself, the Maories thinking
that it is better for the scarcely conscious child to be destroyed at
once than to die slowly under disease, or to live a despised life as a
cripple.
Revenge, the leading characteristic of the Maori mind, has caused the
death of many an infant, the mother being jealous of her husband, or
being separated from him longer than she thinks to be necessary. Even
a sudden quarrel will sometimes cause the woman, maddened by anger,
to destroy her child in the hope of avenging herself upon her husband.
Slave women often systematically destroy their children, from a desire
to save them from the life of servitude to which they are born. In many
cases the life of the child is sacrificed through superstitious terror.
A very curious example of such a case is given by Dr. Dieffenbach.
A recently married wife of a young chief was sitting near a pah or
village, on the fence of which an old priestess had hung her blanket.
As is generally the case with New Zealand garments, the blanket was
infested with vermin. The young woman saw one of these loathsome
insects crawling on the blanket, caught it, and, according to the
custom of the country, ate it. The old woman to whom the garment
belonged flew into a violent passion, poured a volley of curses on the
girl for meddling with the sacred garment of a priestess, and finished
by prophesying that the delinquent would kill and eat the child which
she was expecting.
The spirit of revenge was strong in the old hag, who renewed her
imprecations whenever she met the young woman, and succeeded in
terrifying her to such a degree that she was almost driven mad.
Immediately after the child was born the old woman found out her
victim, and renewed her threats, until the young mother’s mind was so
completely unhinged, that she hastily dug a hole, threw her child into
it, and buried it alive. She was, however, filled with remorse for the
crime that she had committed; and before very long both she and her
husband had emancipated themselves from their superstitious thraldom,
and had become converts to Christianity.
It is seldom, however, that a mother kills her child after it has lived
a day; and, as a general rule, if an infant survives its birth but for
a few hours, its life may be considered as safe from violence. Both
parents seem equally fond of infants, the father nursing them quite
as tenderly as the mother, lulling it to sleep by simple songs, and
wrapping its little naked body in the folds of his mat.
Soon after its birth the child is named, either by its parents or
other relatives, the name always having some definite signification,
and mostly alluding to some supposed quality, or to some accidental
circumstance which may have happened at the time of birth. Much
ingenuity is shown in the invention of these names, and it is very
seldom found that the son is named after his father or other relative.
All the names are harmonious in sound, and end with a vowel; and even
in the European names that are given by the missionaries at baptism the
terminal syllable is always changed into a vowel, in order to suit the
native ideas of euphony.
When the child is about two or three months old, a ceremony is
performed which is remarkable for its resemblance to Christian baptism.
The origin of the ceremony is not known, and even the signification
of the words which are employed is very obscure. Very few persons are
present at the ceremony, which is carried on with much mystery, and is
performed by the priest.
The three principal parts of the rite are that the child should be
laid on a mat, that it should be sprinkled with water by the priest,
and that certain words should be used. As far as has been ascertained,
the mode of conducting the ceremony is as follows: The women and girls
bring the child and lay it on a mat, while the priest stands by with a
green branch dipped in a calabash of water. A sort of incantation is
then said, after which the priest sprinkles the child with water. The
incantation differs according to the sex of the child, but the sense of
it is very obscure. Indeed, even the natives cannot explain the meaning
of the greater part of the incantation: so that in all probability it
consists of obsolete words, the sounds of which have been retained,
while their sense has been lost.
As far as can be ascertained, the incantation consists of a sort of
dialogue between the priest and the women who lay the child on the mat.
The following lines are given by Dieffenbach, as the translation of the
beginning of the incantation said over female children. He does not,
however, guarantee its entire accuracy, and remarks that the true sense
of several of the words is very doubtful. The translation runs as
follows:
_Girls._ “We wish this child to be immersed.”--_Priest._ “Let it be
sprinkled.”
_Girls._ “We wish the child to live to womanhood.”--_Priest._ “Dance
for Atua.”
_Girls._ “Me ta nganahau.” (These words are unintelligible.)--_Priest._
“It is sprinkled in the waters of Atua.”
_Girls._ “The mat is spread.”--_Priest._ “Dance in a circle.”
“Thread the dance.”
The reader must here be told that the word “Atua” signifies a god,
and that the word which is translated as “womanhood” is a term that
signifies the tattooing of the lips, which is performed when girls
are admitted into the ranks of women. The above sentences form only
the commencement of the incantation, the remainder of which is wholly
unintelligible.
When the child is old enough to undertake a journey to the priest’s
house, another ceremony takes place, in which the baby name that the
parents have given to the infant is exchanged for another. According
to Mr. Taylor’s interesting account, when the child has arrived at the
house of the priest, the latter plants a sapling as a sign of vigorous
life, and holds a wooden idol to the ear of the child, while he
enumerates a long string of names which had belonged to its ancestors.
As soon as the child sneezes, the priest stops, the name which he
last uttered being that which is assumed by the child. We are left to
infer that some artificial means must be used to produce sneezing, as
otherwise the task of the priest would be rather a tedious one.
After the requisite sign has been given, and the child has signified
its assent to the name, the priest delivers a metrical address,
differing according to the sex. Boys are told to clear the land and
be strong to work; to be bold and courageous in battle, and comport
themselves like men. Girls are enjoined to “seek food for themselves
with panting of breath,” to weave garments, and to perform the other
duties which belong to their sex.
Even this second name is not retained through life, but may be changed
in after life in consequence of any feat in war, or of any important
circumstance. Such names, like the titles of the peerage among
ourselves, supersede the original name in such a manner that the same
person may be known by several totally distinct names at different
periods of his life.
There seems to be no definite ceremony by which the young New Zealand
lad is admitted into the ranks of men. The tattoo is certainly a sign
that his manhood is acknowledged; but this is a long process, extending
over several years, and cannot be considered as an initiatory rite like
those which are performed by the Australians.
When a young man finds himself able to maintain a wife, he thinks about
getting married, and sets about it very deliberately. Usually there
is a long courtship, and, as a general fact, when a young man fixes
his affections on a girl, he is sure to marry her in the end, however
much she or her friends may object to the match. He thinks his honor
involved in success, and it is but seldom that he fails.
Sometimes a girl is sought by two men of tolerably equal pretensions;
and when this is the case, they are told by the father to settle the
matter by a pulling match. This is a very simple process, each suitor
taking one of the girl’s arms, and trying to drag her away to his own
house. This is a very exciting business for the rivals as well as for
the friends and spectators, and indeed to every one except the girl
herself, who is always much injured by the contest, her arms being
sometimes dislocated, and always so much strained as to be useless for
some time.
In former times the struggle for a wife assumed a more formidable
aspect, and several modern travellers have related instances where the
result has been a tragic one. If a young man has asked for a girl and
been refused, his only plan is to take her by force. For this purpose
he assembles his male friends, and makes up his mind to carry the
lady off forcibly if he cannot obtain her peacefully. Her friends in
the meantime know well what to expect, and in their turn assemble to
protect her. A fierce fight then ensues, clubs, and even more dangerous
weapons being freely used; and in more than one case the intended bride
has been killed by one of the losing side. Sometimes, though not very
often, a girl is betrothed when she is quite a child. In that case she
is as strictly sacred as if she were actually a married woman, and the
extreme laxity of morals which has been mentioned cannot be imputed to
such betrothed maidens. Should one of them err, she is liable to the
same penalties as if she were actually married.
The New Zealanders seldom have more than one wife. Examples are known
where a chief has possessed two and even more wives; but, as a general
rule, a man has but one wife. Among the Maories the wife has very much
more acknowledged influence than is usually the case among uncivilized
people, and the wife always expects to be consulted by her husband in
every important undertaking. Marriage usually takes place about the age
of seventeen or eighteen, sometimes at an earlier age in the case of
the woman and a later in the case of the man.
As to the amusements of the New Zealanders, they are tolerably varied,
and are far superior to the mere succession of singing and dancing, in
which are summed up the amusements of many uncivilized races. Songs
and dances form part of the amusements of this people, but only a part,
and they are supplemented by many others.
One of the most curious was seen by Mr. Angas in the interior of the
country, but never on the coasts. A tall and stout pole, generally the
trunk of a pine, is firmly set in the ground on the top of a steep
bank, and from the upper part of the pole are suspended a number of
ropes made of phormium fibre. The game consists in seizing one of the
ropes, running down the bank, and swinging as far as possible into the
air. Sometimes they even run round and round the pole as if they were
exercising on the giant stride; but as they have not learned to make a
revolving top to the pole or swivels for the ropes, they cannot keep up
this amusement for any long time.
They have a game which is very similar to our draughts, and is played
on a checkered board with pebbles or similar objects as men. Indeed,
the game bears so close a resemblance to draughts, that it may probably
be a mere variation of that game, which some New Zealander has learned
from an European, and imported into his country.
There is also a game which much resembles the almost universal “morro,”
and which consists in opening and closing the hand and bending the
elbow, performing both actions very sharply, and accompanying them with
a sort of doggrel recitation, which has to be said in one breath.
The children have many games which are very similar to those in use
among ourselves. They spin tops, for example, and fly kites, the latter
toy being cleverly made of the flat leaves of a kind of sedge. It is
triangular in form, and the cord is made of the universal flax fibre.
Kite-flying is always accompanied by a song; and when the kites are
seen flying near a village, they are a sign that the village is at
peace, and may be approached with safety.
Perhaps the chief amusement of the children is the game called Maui,
which is in fact a sort of “cat’s-cradle.” The Maori children, however,
are wonderful proficients at the game, and would look with contempt on
the few and simple forms which English children produce. Instead of
limiting themselves to the “cradle,” the “pound of candles,” the “net,”
and the “purse,” the New Zealander produces figures of houses, canoes,
men and women, and various other patterns. They say that this game was
left to them as an inheritance by Maui, the Adam of New Zealand, and it
appears to be intimately connected with their early traditions.
The elder children amuse themselves with spear-throwing, making their
mimic weapons of fern-stems bound at the end. These they throw with
great dexterity, and emulate each other in aiming at a small target.
[Illustration: (1.) PARÁTENE MAIOHA IN HIS STATE WAR CLOAK. (See page
812.)]
[Illustration: (2.) THE CHIEF’S DAUGHTER. (See page 821.)]
[Illustration: (3.) HONGI-HONGI, CHIEF OF WAIPA. (See page 850.)]
Swimming is one of the favorite amusements of the New Zealanders, who
can swim almost as soon as they can walk, and never have an idea that
the water is an unfriendly element. Both sexes swim alike well, and in
the same manner, _i. e._ after the fashion which we call “swimming like
a dog,” paddling the water with each arm alternately. Being constantly
in the water, they can keep up the exertion for a long time, and in
their bathing parties sport about as if they were amphibious beings.
They dive as well as they swim, and the women spend much of their time
in diving for crayfish.
In those parts of the country where hot springs are found the natives
are fond of bathing in the heated water. Mr. Angas makes the following
observations on this custom:--“Upon the beach of the lake, near Te
Rapa, there is a charming natural hot bath, in which the natives,
especially the young folks, luxuriate daily. Sunset is the favorite
time for bathing, and I have frequently seen of an evening at least
twenty persons squatting together in the water, with only their heads
above the surface.
“Boiling springs burst out of the ground, close to a large circular
basin in the volcanic rock, which, by the assistance of a little art,
had been rendered a capacious bath. The boiling stream is conducted
into this reservoir gradually, and the temperature of the water is kept
up or decreased by stopping out the boiling stream with stones, through
which it trickles slowly, whilst the main body runs steaming into the
lake.
“The medicinal properties of these hot mineral springs preserve the
natives in a healthy state, and render their skins beautifully smooth
and clear. Indeed, some of the finest people in the island are to be
observed about Taupo, and the beauty and symmetry of the limbs of many
of the youth would render them admirable studies for the sculptor.”
Perhaps the oddest amusement with which the New Zealanders have ever
recreated themselves is one that only occurred some sixty years ago,
and is not likely to be reproduced. About that date Captain King took
away two New Zealanders to Norfolk Island for the purpose of teaching
the settlers the art of flax-dressing. When he came back to restore
them to their homes, he planted a quantity of maize, which was then
new in the country, and presented the natives with three pigs. Most
of them had never seen any animal larger than a cat, and the others,
who had a vague recollection of seeing horses on board Captain Cook’s
vessel, naturally mistook them for those animals. Thinking them to be
horses, they treated them as horses, and speedily rode two of them to
death. The third did not come to a better end, for it strayed into a
burial-ground, and was killed by the indignant natives.
Nowadays the Maories understand pigs far too well to ride them. Pigs
have become quite an institution in New Zealand. Every village
is plentifully populated with pigs, and, as may be seen in the
illustration of a village which will be given on a future page, one of
the commonest objects is a sow with a litter of pigs.
Little pigs may be seen tottering about the houses, and the natives,
especially the women, pet pigs exactly as European women pet dogs and
cats. They carry them in their arms, fondle and pet them; and nothing
is more common than to see a young girl unfold her mantle and discover
a pig nestling under its folds. Such a girl, for example, as the one
who is represented in the illustration No. 2, on the preceding page,
would be very likely indeed to have a pig in her arms under the shelter
of her mantle.
The figure in question is the portrait of the daughter of a chief.
Her name is Tienga, and she is the daughter of a very powerful and
celebrated chief. Her costume is, like her character, an odd mixture
of civilization and nature. Her mantle is the native flax mat, under
which she may probably wear a muslin, or even silken, garment, articles
of dress of which the young lady in question was, when her portrait
was taken, exceedingly proud. On her head she wears a common straw
hat, purchased from the trader at some five hundred per cent. or so
above its value, and round it she has twisted a bunch of a species of
clematis, which grows with great luxuriance in the forests.
It is a curious study to note the different characteristics of the
human mind. An Oriental would turn with unspeakable disgust from the
very touch of a pig, and is scarcely less fastidious concerning the
dog. Yet the inhabitants of that wonderful group of islands which
stretches from Asia to America have a wonderful affinity for both
these animals, and especially for pigs, displaying, as we shall find
on a future page, their affection in a manner that seems to our minds
extremely ludicrous.
Pigs are now fast becoming acclimatized to the country, just like the
mustang horses of America. When a tribe has suffered extinction, as too
often happens in the sanguinary and ferocious wars in which the people
engage, the pigs escape as well as they can; and those that evade the
enemy have to shift for themselves, and soon resume all the habits of
the wild swine from which they were originally descended. Those which
now inhabit the country are easily to be distinguished from their
immediate ancestors, having short heads and legs and round compact
bodies.
The native name for the pig is “poaka,” a word which some have thought
to be derived from the English word “pork.” Dr. Dieffenbach, however,
differs from this theory, and thinks that the native word, although of
European origin, is derived from a source common both to England and
New Zealand. He thinks that the New Zealanders had some knowledge of
the pig previous to its introduction by England, and that they derived
their knowledge from Spanish voyagers. He is strengthened in this
opinion by the fact that the name for dog, “perro,” is likewise Spanish.
Pigs and dogs are not the only pets, the natives being in the habit of
catching the kaka parrot, which has already been mentioned, and keeping
it tame about their houses. They make a very effective and picturesque
perch for the bird, covering it with a sloping roof as a protection
against the sun, and securing it to the perch by a string round its
leg. Mr. Angas mentions that he has brought these birds to England, but
that the climate did not agree with them, and they all died.
Many of the New Zealanders, especially the women, are dexterous
ball-players, throwing four balls in various ways so as always to keep
them in the air. Some few of them are so skilful that they surpass our
best jugglers, playing with five balls at a time, and throwing them
over the head, round the neck, and in various other ingenious modes of
increasing the difficulty of the performance.
Most of their sports are accompanied with songs, which, indeed, seem to
be suited to all phases of a New Zealander’s life. In paddling canoes,
for example, the best songster takes his stand in the head of a vessel
and begins a song, the chorus of which is taken up by the crew, who
paddle in exact time to the melody.
Respecting the general character of these songs Dieffenbach writes
as follows: “Some songs are lyric, and are sung to a low, plaintive,
uniform, but not at all disagreeable tune.... E’ Waiata is a song of
a joyful nature; E’ Haka one accompanied by gestures of mimicry; E’
Karakia is a prayer or an incantation used on certain occasions. In
saying this prayer there is generally no modulation of the voice,
but syllables are lengthened and shortened, and it produces the same
effect as reading the Talmud in synagogues. Most of these songs live in
the memory of all, but with numerous variations. Certain Karakia, or
invocations, however, are less generally known, and a stranger obtains
them with difficulty, as they are only handed down among the tohunga,
or priests, from father to son.
“To adapt words to a certain tune, and thus to commemorate a passing
event, is common in New Zealand, and has been the beginning of all
national poetry. Many of these children of the moment have a long
existence, and are transmitted through several generations; but their
allusions become unintelligible, and foreign names, having undergone a
thorough change, cannot be recognized.”
All these songs are accompanied by gesticulations more or less violent
and in that which is known as E’ Haka the bodily exertion is extreme.
The singers sit down in a circle, throw off their upper mats, and sing
in concert, accompanying the song with the wildest imaginable gestures,
squinting and turning up their eyes so as to show nothing but the
whites.
Of musical instruments they have but very vague and faint ideas. Even
the drum, which is perhaps the instrument that has the widest range
through the world, is unknown to the native New Zealander. Drums
resound in all the islands of the Pacific, but the New Zealander never
indulges himself in a drumming. The sole really musical instrument
which he possesses is a sort of fife made out of human bone. Generally,
the flute is formed from the thigh-bone of a slain enemy; and when this
is the case, the Maori warrior prizes the instrument inordinately, and
carries it suspended to the tiki which he wears slung on his breast.
There are certainly two noise-producing instruments, which have no
right to be honored with the title of musical instruments. These are
the war bell and the war trumpet.
The former is called the war bell in default of a better word. It
consists of a block of hard wood about six feet long and two thick,
with a deep groove in the centre. This “bell” is suspended horizontally
by cords, and struck by a man who squats on a scaffold under it. With
a stick made of heavy wood he delivers slow and regular strokes in the
groove, the effect being to produce a most melancholy sound, dully
booming in the stillness of the night. The war bell is never sounded by
day, the object being to tell the people inside the pah, or village,
that the sentinel is awake, and to tell any approaching enemy that it
would be useless for him to attempt an attack by surprise. Its native
name is Pahu.
The war trumpet is called Putara-putara. It is a most unwieldly
instrument, at least seven feet in length. It is hollowed out of a
suitably-shaped piece of hard wood, and an expanding mouth is given
to it by means of several pieces of wood lashed together with flaxen
fibre, and fitted to each other like the staves of a cask. Toward the
mouth-piece it is covered with the grotesque carvings of which the New
Zealanders are so fond. It is only used on occasions of alarm, when
it is laid over the fence of the pah, and sounded by a strong-lunged
native. The note which the trumpet produces is a loud roaring sound,
which, as the natives aver, can be heard, on a calm night, the distance
of several miles. In fact, the sound appears to be very much the same
as that which is produced by the celebrated Blowing Stone of Wiltshire.
In some places a smaller trumpet is used in time of war. The body of
this trumpet is always made of a large shell, generally that of a
triton, and the mode of blowing it differs according to the locality.
The simplest kind of shell-trumpet is that which is in use throughout
the whole of the Pacific Islands. It is made by taking a large empty
shell, and boring a round hole on one side near the point. The shell
is blown like a flute, being placed horizontally to the lips, and the
air directed across the aperture. In fact, it exactly resembles in
principle the horn and ivory trumpets of Africa, which are shown on a
preceding page.
There is, however, in the British Museum a much more elaborate form of
trumpet, which is blown with a mouth-piece. In this case the point of
the shell has been removed and a wooden mouth-piece substituted for it,
so that it is blown at the end, like trumpets in our own country.
The dances of the New Zealander are almost entirely connected with war
and will therefore be mentioned when we come to treat of that subject.
The mode of salutation at parting and meeting is very curious, and to
an European sufficiently ludicrous. When two persons meet who have
not seen each other for some time, it is considered a necessary point
of etiquette to go through the ceremony called _tangi_. The “g,” by
the way, is pronounced hard, as in the word “begin.” They envelope
themselves in their mats, covering even their faces, except one eye,
squat on the ground opposite each other, and begin to weep copiously.
They seem to have tears at command, and they never fail to go through
the whole of the ceremony as often as etiquette demands it. Having
finished their cry, they approach each other, press their noses
together for some time, uttering the while, a series of short grunts!
Etiquette is now satisfied and both parties become very cheerful and
lively, chatting and laughing as if there had never been such a thing
as a tear in existence.
Mr. Angas tells a ludicrous story of a tangi which he once witnessed. A
woman was paddling a very small canoe, and fell in with the exploring
party, who were in two large canoes. Seeing some friends on board of
the large canoes, she ran her little vessel between them, and began a
vigorous tangi.
Time being pressing, she could not stop to wrap herself up in the
orthodox style, but burst into a flood of tears in the most approved
fashion, and paddled and howled with equal vigor. Still crying, she put
on board a basket of potatoes as a present, and received in return a
fig of tobacco. The tangi being by this time complete, the old woman
burst into a loud laugh, had a lively talk with her friends, turned her
little canoe round, and paddled briskly out of sight.
In one instance this force of habit was rather ludicrously exemplified.
The writer shall tell his own story.
“At Hopeton we met with a sister of Karake, or Clark, the chief of
Waikato Heads, whose portrait I had painted when at Auckland. This
portrait I showed to the old woman, who had not seen her brother for
some time, when, to my surprise and amusement, she at once commenced
a most affectionate tangi before the sketch; waving her hands in the
usual manner, and uttering successively low whining sounds expressive
of her joy.
“After she had, as I imagined, satisfied herself with seeing the
representation of her brother, I was about to replace the sketch in
my portfolio, when she begged of Forsaith that she might be permitted
to tangi over it in good earnest, saying, ‘It was her brother--her
brother; and she must TANGI till the tears come.’ And sure enough,
presently the tears did come, and the old woman wept and moaned, and
waved her hands before the picture, with as much apparent feeling as
if her brother himself had thus suddenly appeared to her. I could not
prevail upon the old creature to desist, and was at length compelled
to leave the portrait in Forsaith’s care, whilst I was employed in
sketching elsewhere. In future I shall be more cautious how I show my
sketches to the old women, finding that they are liable to produce such
melancholy results.”
Mr. A. Christie, to whom I am indebted for much information about
the country, told me an anecdote of a tangi performed in England by
a party of Maories who had visited this country. They were about to
bid farewell to one of their friends, and visited his house for that
purpose, desiring to be allowed to perform the tangi.
Knowing their customs, their host took them into an empty room,
previously cautioning his family not to be surprised at the ceremony.
The whole party then sat down on the floor, and raised a most dismal
howl, wailing, waving their hands, shedding floods of tears, and, in
fact, enjoying themselves in their own queer way. The tangi being over,
they all became lively and chatty, and finally took leave after the
undemonstrative English fashion.
To a stranger the performance of the tangi is very amusing for the
first few times of witnessing it; but he soon becomes tired of it, and
at last looks upon it as an unmitigated nuisance, wasting time, and
subjecting him to a series of doleful howls from which he has no mode
of escape. Mr. Angas describes a tangi to which he was subjected.
“At sunset we reached a small fortified port, on the summit of a hill
overlooking the lake. There were but few natives residing in it, to
whom the sight of a pakeha (white man) was indeed astonishing; and,
after the salutation of welcome, they commenced a tangi at my guides
and myself.
“The man who introduced us uttered a faint sound in his throat, like
that of a person crying at a distance, and continued to look mournfully
on the ground. The welcome of the men was voluble and loud: they howled
dismally, and their tears fell fast for some time.
“Another female soon arrived, who, squatting on the ground, commenced
a tangi with her friends, so loud and doleful--now muttering and anon
howling like a hyena--that it made me feel quite dismal. There she sat,
yelling horribly, to my great annoyance, but Maori etiquette compelled
me to look grave and not to disturb her. There seemed to be no end to
this woman’s wailings of welcome. The night was cold, and she still
continued to sit by the fire prolonging her lugubrious and discordant
strains. Sometimes she would pitch a higher key, going upward with a
scream, shaking her voice, and muttering between every howl; then it
would be a squall with variations, like ‘housetop cats on moonlight
nights.’
“Then blowing her nose with her fingers, she made some remarks to the
woman next her, and recommenced howling in the most systematic way.
Once again she became furious; then, during an interval, she spoke
about the pakeha, joined in a hearty laugh with all the rest, and
at last, after one long continued howl, all was silent, to my great
relief.”
The manner in which the natives can produce such torrents of tears
is really marvellous; and they exhibit such apparent agony of grief,
acting the part to such perfection, that for some time a stranger can
hardly believe that the profusely weeping natives are simply acting a
conventional part.
In the illustration No. 2, on the 809th page, is shown the sort of
scene which takes place at a pah when some of the inhabitants return
after a long absence--a scene which would be very pathetic did it not
trench upon the ludicrous.
When a party of strangers arrive at a pah, the preliminary part of
the tangi, _i. e._ the sitting down and weeping, is omitted, another
ceremony being substituted for it. The visitors are introduced into
the interior of the pah, where a large space has been kept clear. The
principal chief of the village then advances, clad as if for war, _i.
e._ wearing nothing but his moko and plenty of scarlet paint, and
bearing a spear in his hand. He brandishes and aims the spear as if he
meant to pierce the chief of the opposite party, and then throws it
toward, but not at, the stranger. The visitors then squat silently on
the ground, according to Maori etiquette, and presently each stranger
is faced by one of the receiving tribe, who goes through the ceremony
of ongi, or pressing noses, which is the last part of the tangi. This
lasts for some time, and, when it is completed, the provisions are
brought out and a great feasting ensues.
As to the general character of the natives, it presents a curious
mixture of wildness and ferocity, affection and fickleness, benevolence
and vengefulness, hospitality and covetousness. The leading
characteristic of the Maori mind is self-esteem, which sometimes takes
the form of a lofty and even chivalrous pride, and at other times
degenerates into childish vanity. It is this feeling which leads a New
Zealander to kill himself rather than live to suffer disgrace, and
which causes him to behave with the politeness for which the well-bred
New Zealander is so conspicuous. Degenerating into vanity, it is easily
wounded; and hence the accidentally hurt feelings of a Maori, added to
the vengefulness which forms so large a portion of his nature, have
occasioned long and desolating wars, in which whole tribes have been
extinguished.
The temper of the Maories is, as is often the case with uncultivated
natures, quick, tetchy, and, though pleasing enough as a general rule,
is apt to change suddenly without the least provocation; a lively,
agreeable person becoming suddenly dull, sullen, and ill-tempered. This
fickleness of demeanor is very troublesome to Europeans, and, indeed,
is sometimes assumed by the natives, for the purpose of seeing how much
their white companion will endure. When they find that he meets them
with firmness, they lay aside their unpleasant manner, and become quite
gay and sociable.
Often, however, an European hurts their feelings quite unintentionally,
through sheer ignorance of the minute code of etiquette which they
observe. If, for example two Europeans meet and wish to discuss a
subject, they stand still and have their talk, or perhaps they walk
backward and forward. Two New Zealanders, on the contrary, would
always sit down, as it is thought a mark of inattention to stand while
addressed by another. Again, when a New Zealander enters a house, he
makes his salutation and then squats down in silence for some time,
the omission of this ceremony being looked upon as great a mark of
ill-breeding as to go into a drawing-room with the hat on is considered
among ourselves.
One curious trait of the Maori character is the inability to keep a
secret. This curious disposition sometimes subjects the natives to very
unpleasant consequences. Those, for example, who have adopted the laws
of the white man, have discovered that there are many delinquencies
which can be done with impunity, provided that they are committed in
secret. But according to Dieffenbach, “with the art of keeping a secret
the New Zealander is little acquainted. Although he possesses in many
other respects great self-control, the secret must come out, even if
his death should be the immediate consequence.”
They have a strong and tenacious memory, easily acquiring knowledge,
and retaining it with wonderful accuracy. The strength of their memory
is well exemplified by the native converts to Christianity, who
will repeat long passages of the Bible and many hymns with absolute
exactness.
One of the most remarkable examples of this characteristic is afforded
by an old chief named Horomana Marahau, who is popularly known as
Blind Solomon. He has led a most exciting and varied life, hawing
been engaged in war ever since he was a boy, and once actually taken
prisoner by the ferocious chief E’ Hongi, or Shongi, as he is generally
called. He has captured many a pah, and assisted in eating many a slain
enemy, and had he not escaped when he himself was made prisoner, he
would have shared the same fate.
His last exploit was an attack on Poverty Bay where he and his
followers took the pah, and killed and afterward ate six hundred of the
enemy. Shortly after this feat he became blind, at Otawaho, where he
first met with the missionary. In process of time he became a convert,
and afterward labored as a teacher, displaying the same earnest energy
which distinguished his military career, and, though an old man,
undertaking long and toilsome journeys for the purpose of instructing
his fellow-countrymen. Mr. Angas once heard him deliver a funeral
oration over the body of a child, which he describes as one of the
finest and most impassioned bursts of eloquence he ever heard.
Horomana was peculiarly suited for the office of instructor in
consequence of his exceptionally retentive memory. He knows the whole
of the Church Service by heart, together with many hymns and long
passages of the Bible, and when he was examined in the Catechism, it
was found that he knew every word correctly. This strength of memory,
by the way, useful as it is when rightly employed, is sometimes abused
by becoming an instrument of revenge, a Maori never forgetting an
insult, whether real or imaginary, nor the face of the person by whom
he was insulted.
The curiosity of the people is insatiable, and they always want to hear
all about everything they see. This spirit of curiosity has naturally
led them to take the greatest interest in the various arts and sciences
possessed by the white man, and in order to gratify it they will often
hire themselves as sailors in European ships. Accustomed to the water
all their lives, and being admirable canoe men, they make excellent
sailors, and soon learn to manage boats after the European fashion,
which differs essentially from their own. Some of them penetrate into
the higher mysteries of navigation, and in 1813 a New Zealander was
captain of a whaler.
They take quite as much interest in the familiar objects of their own
country as in those which are brought to them by foreigners. They have
names for all their animal, vegetable, and even mineral productions,
pointing out and remarking upon any peculiarities which may be found in
them.