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.
[Illustration: (1.) PREPARING FOR A FEAST. (See page 827.)]
[Illustration: (2.) CHIEFS’ STOREHOUSES. (See page 830.)]
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.
[Illustration: (1.) CANNIBAL COOK HOUSE. (See page 834.)]
[Illustration: (2.) MAORI PAH. (See page 846.)]
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.