The uncivilized races of men in all countries of the world; vol. 2 of 2 / Being a comprehensive account of their manners and customs, and of their physical, social, mental, moral and religious characteristics

by J. G. Wood

ILLUSTRATIONS.

		Page.
1.	Pictorial representation of African races	Frontispiece.
2.	Kaffir from childhood to age	13
3.	Old councillor and wives	13
4.	Kaffir cradle	18
5.	Young Kaffir armed	21
6.	Kaffir postman	21
7.	Unmarried Kaffir girls	25
8.	Old Kaffir women	25
9.	Kaffir ornaments—necklaces, belt, etc.	33
10.	Kaffir needles and sheaths	33
11.	Articles of costume	33
12.	Dolls representing the Kaffir dress	33
13.	Bracelets made of the hoof of the bluebok	39
14.	Apron of chief’s wife	39
15.	Ivory armlets	39
16.	Necklaces—beads and teeth	39
17.	Young Kaffir in full dress	43
18.	Girl in dancing dress	43
19.	Kaffir ornaments	49
20.	Dress and ornaments	49
21.	The Kaffirs at home	57
22.	Interior of a Kaffir hut	63
23.	A Kaffir kraal	63
24.	A Kaffir milking bowl	67
25.	A Kaffir beer bowl	67
26.	A Kaffir beer strainer	67
27.	A Kaffir water pipe	67
28.	Woman’s basket	67
29.	Kaffir cattle—training the horns	73
30.	Return of a Kaffir war party	73
31.	Procession of the bride	83
32.	Kaffir passing his mother-in-law	88
33.	Bridegroom on approval	97
34.	Kaffir at his forge	97
35.	Spoons for eating porridge	103
36.	Group of assagais	103
37.	Kaffir warriors skirmishing	111
38.	Muscular advocacy	111
39.	Goza, the Kaffir chief, in ordinary undress	117
40.	Goza in full war dress, with his councillors	117
41.	Panda’s review	121
42.	Hunting scene in Kaffirland	121
43.	Cooking elephant’s foot	133
44.	A Kaffir dinner party	145
45.	Soldiers lapping water	145
46.	A Kaffir harp	155
47.	Exterior of a Kaffir hut	155
48.	Spoon, ladle, skimmers	155
49.	A Kaffir water pipe	155
50.	A Kaffir fowl house	155
51.	Necklace made of human finger bones	167
52.	A remarkable gourd snuff-box	167
53.	Poor man’s pipe	167
54.	Kaffir gentlemen smoking	167
55.	The prophet’s school	174
56.	The prophet’s return	174
57.	Old Kaffir prophets	177
58.	The Kaffir prophetess at work	188
59.	Unfavorable prophecy	188
60.	Preserved head	203
61.	Head of Mundurucú chief	203
62.	Burial of King Tchaka’s mother	203
63.	Dingan, the Kaffir monarch, at home	209
64.	Kaffir women quarrelling	209
65.	Hottentot girl	219
66.	Hottentot woman	219
67.	Hottentot young man	223
68.	Hottentot in full dress	223
69.	Hottentot kraal	229
70.	Card playing by Hottentots	237
71.	Bosjesman shooting cattle	237
72.	Grapple plant	247
73.	Bosjesman woman and child	247
74.	Hottentots asleep	247
75.	Bosjesman quiver	247
76.	Frontlet of Hottentot girl	247
77.	Poison grub	259
78.	Portrait of Koranna chief	271
79.	Namaquas shooting at the storm	271
80.	Knife and assagai heads	281
81.	Bechuana knives	281
82.	A Bechuana apron	281
83.	Ornament made of monkeys’ teeth	281
84.	Bechuana parliament	287
85.	Female architects among the Bechuanas	287
86.	Magic dice of the Bechuanas	292
87.	Spartan practices among the Bechuanas	294
88.	The girl’s ordeal among the Bechuanas	294
89.	Plan of Bechuana house	299
90.	Bechuana funeral	302
91.	Grave and monument of Damara chief	302
92.	Damara warrior and wife	308
93.	Damara girl resting	308
94.	Portrait of Ovambo girl	317
95.	Ovambo women pounding corn	317
96.	Ovambo houses	329
97.	Makololo house building	329
98.	Children’s games among the Makololo	333
99.	M’Bopo, a Makololo chief, at home	333
100.	Spearing the hippopotamus	343
101.	The final attack	343
102.	Boating scene on the Bo-tlet-le River	351
103.	Batoka salutation	351
104.	Batoka men	357
105.	Pelele, or lip ring, of the Manganjas	357
106.	Hippopotamus trap	363
107.	Axes of the Banyai	363
108.	The marimba, or African piano	371
109.	Singular headdress of the Balonda women	371
110.	Wagogo greediness	387
111.	Architecture of the Weezee	387
112.	A husband’s welcome among the Weezee	391
113.	Sultan Ukulima drinking pombé	391
114.	Harvest scene among the Wanyamuezi	397
115.	Salutation by the Watusi	397
116.	Rumanika’s private band	404
117.	Arrest of the queen	412
118.	Reception of a visitor by the Waganda	417
119.	The magician of Unyoro at work	417
120.	Wanyoro culprit in the shoe	423
121.	Group of Gani and Madi	431
122.	Removal of a village by Madi	431
123.	Group of the Kytch tribe	437
124.	Neam-Nam fighting	437
125.	Wooden chiefs of the Dôr	449
126.	Scalp-locks of the Djibbas	449
127.	Bracelets of the Djibbas	449
128.	Ornaments of the Djour	449
129.	Women’s knives	449
130.	A Nuehr helmet	449
131.	The Latooka victory	457
132.	Gorilla hunting by the Fans	457
133.	A Bari homestead	465
134.	Funeral dance of the Latookas	465
135.	The ceremony of M’paza	478
136.	Obongo market	478
137.	The giant dance of the Aponos	486
138.	Fishing scene among the Bakalai	486
139.	Ashira farewell	499
140.	Olenda’s salutation to an Ishogo chief	499
141.	A Camma dance	508
142.	Quengueza’s (chief of the Camma) walk	508
143.	The Camma fetish man ejecting a demon	517
144.	Olanga drinking mboundou	517
145.	Fate of the Shekiani wizard	526
146.	The Mpongwé coronation	526
147.	Attack on a Mpongwé village	537
148.	Bargaining for a wife by the Fanti	537
149.	The primeval child in Dahome	552
150.	Fetishes, male and female, of the Krumen	552
151.	Dahoman ivory trumpets	558
152.	Dahoman war drum	558
153.	War knives of the Fanti	558
154.	Fetish trumpet and drum	558
155.	Ashanti caboceer and soldiers	564
156.	Punishment of a snake killer	564
157.	“The bell comes”	569
158.	Dahoman amazons	569
159.	Amazon review	576
160.	The Dahoman king’s dance	576
161.	The basket sacrifice in Dahome	583
162.	Head worship in Dahome	595
163.	The attack on Abeokuta	595
164.	The Alaké’s (king of the Egbas) court	605
165.	Mumbo Jumbo	605
166.	A Bubé marriage	612
167.	Kanemboo man and woman	612
168.	Washing day in Abyssinia	617
169.	A Congo coronation	617
170.	Ju-ju execution	619
171.	Shooa women	631
172.	Tuaricks and Tibboos	631
173.	Begharmi lancers	638
174.	Musgu chief	638
175.	Dinner party in Abyssinia	643
176.	Abyssinian heads	643
177.	King Theodore and the lions	652
178.	Pleaders in the courts	652
179.	A battle between Abyssinians and Gallas	662
180.	Interior of an Abyssinian house	662
181.	Buffalo dance in Abyssinia	670
182.	Bedouin camp	670
183.	Hunting the hippopotamus	679
184.	Travellers and the mirage	679
185.	Travelling in Madagascar	692
186.	Australian man and woman	698
187.	Women and old man of Lower Murray	698
188.	Hunter and his day’s provision	707
189.	The sea-grass cloak	707
190.	Bee hunting	716
191.	Australian cooking a snake	716
192.	Australian tomahawks	722
193.	Australian clubs	722
194.	Australian saw	722
195.	Tattooing chisels	722
196.	Man of Torres Strait	722
197.	Basket—South Australia	722
198.	Heads of Australian spears	731
199.	Throw-sticks of the Australians	731
200.	Boomerangs of the Australians	731
201.	Spearing the kangaroo	739
202.	Catching the cormorant	739
203.	Australian shields	742
204.	The kuri dance	749
205.	Palti dance, or corrobboree	749
206.	An Australian feast	759
207.	Australian mothers	759
208.	Mintalta, a Nauo man	765
209.	Young man and boy of South Australia	765
210.	Hut for cure of disease	765
211.	Tomb of skulls	765
[212].	Tree tomb of Australia	775
[213].	Smoking bodies of slain warriors	775
[214].	Carved feather box	775
[215].	Australian widows and their caps	781
[216].	Cave with native drawings	781
[217].	Winter huts in Australia	787
[218].	A summer encampment	787
[219].	New Zealander from childhood to age	794
[220].	Woman and boy of New Zealand	803
[221].	A tattooed chief and his wife	803
[222].	Maori women making mats	809
[223].	The Tangi	809
[224].	Parátene Maioha in his state war cloak	820
[225].	The chiefs daughter	820
[226].	Hongi-hongi, chief of Waipa	820
[227].	Maories preparing for a feast	831
[228].	Maori chiefs’ storehouses	831
[229].	Cannibal cookhouse	835
[230].	Maori pah	835
[231].	Green jade ornaments	841
[232].	Maori weapons	841
[233].	Wooden and bone merais	841
[234].	Maori war dance	847
[235].	Te Ohu, a native priest	860
[236].	A tiki at Raroera pah	860
[237].	Tiki from Whakapokoko	860
[238].	Mourning over a dead chief	872
[239].	Tomb of E’ Toki	872
[240].	Rangihaeta’s war house	877
[241].	Interior of a pah or village	877
[242].	Maori paddles	881
[243].	Green jade adze and chisel	881
[244].	Common stone adze	881
[245].	A Maori toko-toko	881
[246].	New Caledonians defending their coast	893
[247].	Andamaners cooking a pig	893
[248].	A scene in the Nicobar Islands	903
[249].	The Outanatas and their weapons	903
[250].	The monkey men of Dourga Strait	909
[251].	Canoes of New Guinea	909
[252].	Huts of New Guinea	916
[253].	Dance by torchlight in New Guinea	916
[254].	The ambassador’s message	924
[255].	The canoe in a breeze	924
[256].	Presentation of the canoe	937
[257].	A Fijian feast	943
[258].	The fate of the boaster	943
[259].	Fijian idol	949
[260].	The orator’s flapper	949
[261].	Fijian spear	949
[262].	Fijian clubs	949
[263].	A Fijian wedding	957
[264].	House thatching by Fijians	957
[265].	A Buré, or temple, in Fiji	963
[266].	View in Makira harbor	963
[267].	Man and woman of Vaté	973
[268].	Woman and child of Vanikoro	973
[269].	Daughter of Tongan chief	973
[270].	Burial of a living king	980
[271].	Interior of a Tongan house	980
[272].	The kava party in Tonga	988
[273].	Tongan plantation	991
[274].	Ceremony of inachi	991
[275].	The tow-tow	999
[276].	Consulting a priest	999
[277].	Tattooing day in Samoa	1012
[278].	Cloth making by Samoan women	1012
[279].	Samoan club	1018
[280].	Armor of Samoan warrior	1018
[281].	Beautiful paddle of Hervey Islanders	1018
[282].	Ornamented adze magnified	1018
[283].	Spear of Hervey Islanders	1018
[284].	Shark tooth gauntlets	1025
[285].	Samoan warriors exchanging defiance	1027
[286].	Pigeon catching by Samoans	1027
[287].	Battle scene in Hervey Islands	1035
[288].	Village in Kingsmill Islands	1035
[289].	Shark tooth spear	1041
[290].	Shark’s jaw	1041
[291].	Swords of Kingsmill Islanders	1041
[292].	Tattooed chiefs of Marquesas	1046
[293].	Marquesan chief’s hand	1046
[294].	Neck ornament	1046
[295].	Marquesan chief in war dress	1046
[296].	The war dance of the Niuans	1054
[297].	Tahitans presenting the cloth	1054
[298].	Dressing the idols by Society Islanders	1067
[299].	The human sacrifice by Tahitans	1077
[300].	Corpse and chief mourner	1077
[301].	Tane, the Tahitan god, returning home	1084
[302].	Women and pet pig of Sandwich Islands	1084
[303].	Kamehameha’s exploit with spears	1089
[304].	Masked rowers	1089
[305].	Surf swimming by Sandwich Islanders	1093
[306].	Helmet of Sandwich Islanders	1097
[307].	Feather idol of Sandwich Islanders	1097
[308].	Wooden idol of Sandwich Islanders	1097
[309].	Romanzoff Islanders, man and woman	1101
[310].	Dyak warrior and dusum	1101
[311].	Investiture of the rupack	1105
[312].	Warrior’s dance among Pelew Islanders	1105
[313].	Illinoan pirate and Saghai Dyak	1113
[314].	Dyak women	1113
[315].	Parang-latok of the Dyaks	1122
[316].	Sumpitans of the Dyaks	1122
[317].	Parang-ihlang of the Dyaks	1122
[318].	The kris, or dagger, of the Dyaks	1129
[319].	Shields of Dyak soldiers	1129
[320].	A parang with charms	1129
[321].	A Dyak spear	1129
[322].	Canoe fight of the Dyaks	1139
[323].	A Dyak wedding	1139
[324].	A Dyak feast	1147
[325].	A Bornean adze axe	1152
[326].	A Dyak village	1153
[327].	A Dyak house	1153
[328].	Fuegian man and woman	1163
[329].	Patagonian man and woman	1163
[330].	A Fuegian settlement	1169
[331].	Fuegians shifting quarters	1169
[332].	Araucanian stirrups and spur	1175
[333].	Araucanian lassos	1175
[334].	Patagonian bolas	1175
[335].	Spanish bit and Patagonian fittings	1175
[336].	Patagonians hunting game	1180
[337].	Patagonian village	1187
[338].	Patagonian burial ground	1187
[339].	A Mapuché family	1201
[340].	Araucanian marriage	1201
[341].	Mapuché medicine	1207
[342].	Mapuché funeral	1207
[343].	The macana club	1212
[344].	Guianan arrows and tube	1214
[345].	Gran Chaco Indians on the move	1218
[346].	The ordeal of the “gloves”	1218
[347].	Guianan blow guns	1225
[348].	Guianan blow-gun arrow	1225
[349].	Guianan winged arrows	1225
[350].	Guianan cotton basket	1225
[351].	Guianan quiver	1225
[352].	Guianan arrows rolled around stick	1225
[353].	Guianan arrows strung	1225
[354].	Feathered arrows of the Macoushies	1231
[355].	Cassava dish of the Macoushies	1231
[356].	Guianan quake	1231
[357].	Arrow heads of the Macoushies	1231
[358].	Guianan turtle arrow	1231
[359].	Guianan quiver for arrow heads	1231
[360].	Feather apron of the Mundurucús	1231
[361].	Head-dresses of the Macoushies	1238
[362].	Guianan clubs	1238
[363].	Guianan cradle	1238
[364].	A Warau house	1244
[365].	Lake dwellers of the Orinoco	1244
[366].	Guianan tipiti and bowl	1249
[367].	Guianan twin bottles	1249
[368].	Feather apron of the Caribs	1249
[369].	Bead apron of the Guianans	1249
[370].	The spathe of the Waraus	1249
[371].	The Maquarri dance	1260
[372].	Shield wrestling of the Waraus	1260
[373].	Jaguar bone flute of the Caribs	1265
[374].	Rattle of the Guianans	1265
[375].	Mexican stirrups	1265
[376].	Iron and stone tomahawks	1265
[377].	Indian shield and clubs	1265
[378].	Mandan chief Mah-to-toh-pa and wife	1277
[379].	A Crow chief	1284
[380].	American Indians scalping	1284
[381].	Flint-headed arrow	1290
[382].	Camanchees riding	1291
[383].	“Smoking” horses	1291
[384].	Snow shoe	1295
[385].	Bison hunting scene	1299
[386].	Buffalo dance	1299
[387].	The Mandan ordeal	1305
[388].	The last race	1305
[389].	The medicine man at work	1311
[390].	The ball play of the Choctaws	1311
[391].	Indian pipes	1315
[392].	Ee-e-chin-che-a in war costume	1318
[393].	Grandson of a Blackfoot chief	1318
[394].	Pshan-shaw, a girl of the Riccarees	1318
[395].	Flat-head woman and child	1319
[396].	Indian canoe	1322
[397].	Snow shoe dance	1322
[398].	Dance to the medicine of the brave	1322
[399].	The canoe race	1327
[400].	Esquimaux dwellings	1327
[401].	Esquimaux harpoon head	1337
[402].	Burial of Blackbird, an Omaha chief	1341
[403].	Esquimaux spearing the walrus	1341
[404].	The kajak and its management	1347
[405].	Esquimaux sledge driving	1347
[406].	Wrist-guard of the Esquimaux	1353
[407].	Esquimaux fish-hooks	1353
[408].	Feathered arrows of Aht tribe	1356
[409].	Ingenious fish-hook of the Ahts	1357
[410].	Remarkable carved pipes of the Ahts	1357
[411].	Bow of the Ahts of Vancouver’s Island	1357
[412].	Beaver mask of the Aht tribe	1357
[413].	Singular head-dress of the Aht chiefs	1357
[414].	Decorated paddles of the Ahts	1357
[415].	Canoe of the Ahts	1361
[416].	Aht dance	1367
[417].	Initiation of a dog eater	1367
[418].	A Sowrah marriage	1387
[419].	A Meriah sacrifice	1387
[420].	Bows and quiver of Hindoos	1394
[421].	Ingenious ruse of Bheel robbers	1397
[422].	A Ghoorka attacked by a tiger	1397
[423].	A Ghoorka necklace	1403
[424].	A kookery of the Ghoorka tribe	1403
[425].	The chakra or quoit weapon	1403
[426].	Indian arms and armor	1403
[427].	Suit of armor inlaid with gold	1406
[428].	Chinese repeating crossbow	1425
[429].	Mutual assistance	1427
[430].	Chinese woman’s foot and shoe	1428
[431].	Mandarin and wife	1437
[432].	Various modes of torture	1437
[433].	Mouth organ	1445
[434].	Specimens of Chinese art	1446
[435].	Decapitation of Chinese criminal	1451
[436].	The street ballad-singer	1451
[437].	Japanese lady in a storm	1454
[438].	Japanese lady on horseback	1455
[439].	Capture of the truant husbands	1464
[440].	Candlestick and censers	1465
[441].	Suit of Japanese armor	1469
[442].	King S. S. P. M. Mongkut of Siam	1469
[443].	Portrait of celebrated Siamese actress	1469

CONTENTS
OF
VOLUME I.

Chap.		Page.
KAFFIRS OF SOUTH AFRICA.
I.	Intellectual Character	11
II.	Course of Life	17
III.	Course of Life—Concluded	20
IV.	Masculine Dress and Ornaments	28
V.	Masculine Dress and Ornaments—Concluded	36
VI.	Feminine Dress and Ornaments	48
VII.	Architecture	56
VIII.	Cattle Keeping	66
IX.	Marriage	75
X.	Marriage—Concluded	82
XI.	War—Offensive Weapons	92
XII.	War—Defensive Weapons	108
XIII.	Hunting	126
XIV.	Agriculture	138
XV.	Food	143
XVI.	Social Characteristics	159
XVII.	Religion and Superstition	169
XVIII.	Religion and Superstition—Continued	180
XIX.	Superstition—Concluded	192
XX.	Funeral Rites	200
XXI.	Domestic Life	206
HOTTENTOTS.
XXII.	The Hottentot Races	217
XXIII.	Marriage, Language, Amusements	232
THE BOSJESMAN, OR BUSHMAN.
XXIV.	Appearance—Social Life	242
XXV.	Architecture—Weapons	251
XXVI.	Amusements	262
VARIOUS AFRICAN RACES.
XXVII.	Korannas and Namaquas	269
XXVIII.	The Bechuanas	280
XXIX.	The Bechuanas—Concluded	291
XXX.	The Damara Tribe	304
XXXI.	The Ovambo, or Ovampo	315
XXXII.	The Makololo Tribe	324
XXXIII.	The Bayeye and Makoba	337
XXXIV.	The Batoka and Manganja	348
XXXV.	The Banyai and Badema	361
XXXVI.	The Balondo, or Balonda, and Angolese	369
XXXVII.	Wagogo and Wanyamuezi	384
XXXVIII.	Karague	399
XXXIX.	The Watusi and Waganda	408
XL.	The Wanyoro	422
XLI.	Gani, Madi, Obbo, and Kytch	429
XLII.	The Neam-Nam, Dôr, and Djour tribes	440
XLIII.	The Latooka tribe	453
XLIV.	The Shir, Bari, Djibba, Nuehr, Dinka, and Shillook tribes	461
XLV.	The Ishogo, Ashango, and Obongo tribes	475
XLVI.	The Apono and Apingi	484
XLVII.	The Bakalai	491
XLVIII.	The Ashira	496
XLIX.	The Camma or Commi	504
L.	The Shekiani and Mpongwé	521
LI.	The Fans	529
LII.	The Fans—Concluded	535
LIII.	The Krumen and Fanti	544
LIV.	The Ashanti	554
LV.	Dahome	561
LVI.	Dahome—Continued	573
LVII.	Dahome—Concluded	581
LVIII.	The Egbas	590
LIX.	Bonny	600
LX.	The Man-dingoes	607
LXI.	The Bubes and Congoese	610
LXII.	Bornu	620
LXIII.	The Shooas, Tibboos, Tuaricks, Begharmis, and Musguese	628
LXIV.	Abyssinians	641
LXV.	Abyssinians—Continued	649
LXVI.	Abyssinians—Concluded	658
LXVII.	Nubians and Hamran Arabs	673
LXVIII.	Bedouins, Hassaniyehs, and Malagasy	681
AUSTRALIA.
LXIX.	Appearance and Character of Natives	694
LXX.	Dress—Food	703
LXXI.	Weapons	719
LXXII.	Weapons—Concluded	727
LXXIII.	War—Amusements	744
LXXIV.	Domestic Life	755
LXXV.	From Childhood to Manhood	761

CONTENTS
OF
VOLUME II.

LXXVI.	Medicine—Surgery—Disposal of Dead	[769]
LXXVII.	Dwellings—Canoes	[784]
NEW ZEALAND.
LXXVIII.	General Remarks	[792]
LXXIX.	Dress	[800]
LXXX.	Dress—Concluded	[807]
LXXXI.	Domestic Life	[816]
LXXXII.	Food and Cookery	[826]
LXXXIII.	War	[838]
LXXXIV.	Canoes	[852]
LXXXV.	Religion	[856]
LXXXVI.	The Tapu	[863]
LXXXVII.	Funeral Ceremonies—Architecture	[869]
NEW CALEDONIA.
LXXXVIII.	Appearance—Dress—Warfare	[883]
ANDAMAN AND NICOBAR ISLANDS.
LXXXIX.	Origin of Natives—Appearance—Character—Education	[888]
NEW GUINEA.
XC.	Papuans and Outanatas	[898]
XCI.	The Alfoërs or Haraforas	[905]
PHILIPPINE ISLANDS.
XCII.	The Ajitas or Ahitas	[919]
FIJI.
XCIII.	Appearance—Dress	[922]
XCIV.	Manufactures	[929]
XCV.	Government—Social Life	[934]
XCVI.	War—Amusements	[948]
XCVII.	Religion—Funeral Rites	[960]
SOLOMON ISLANDS AND NEW HEBRIDES.
XCVIII.	Character—Dress—Customs	[968]
TONGA.
XCIX.	Government—Gradations of Rank	[976]
C.	War and Ceremonies	[984]
CI.	Sickness—Burial—Games	[997]
SAMOA, OR NAVIGATOR’S ISLAND.
CII.	Appearance—Character—Dress	[1008]
CIII.	War	[1016]
CIV.	Amusements—Marriage—Architecture	[1028]
HERVEY AND KINGSMILL ISLANDS.
CV.	Appearance—Weapons—Government	[1032]
MARQUESAS ISLANDS.
CVI.	Dress—Amusements—War—Burial	[1044]
NIUE, OR SAVAGE ISLANDS.
CVII.	Origin—Costume—Laws—Burial	[1052]
SOCIETY ISLANDS.
CVIII.	Appearance—Dress—Social Customs	[1057]
CIX.	Religion	[1064]
CX.	History—War—Funerals—Legends	[1072]
SANDWICH ISLANDS.
CXI.	Climate—Dress—Ornaments—Women	[1081]
CXII.	War—Sport—Religion	[1088]
CAROLINE ARCHIPELAGO.
CXIII.	Dress—Architecture—Amusements—War	[1100]
BORNEO.
CXIV.	The Dyaks, Appearance and Dress	[1110]
CXV.	War	[1119]
CXVI.	War—Concluded	[1128]
CXVII.	Social Life	[1137]
CXVIII.	Architecture, Manufactures	[1149]
CXIX.	Religion—Omens—Funerals	[1157]
TIERRA DEL FUEGO.
CXX.	Appearance—Architecture—Manufactures	[1161]
PATAGONIANS.
CXXI.	Appearance—Weapons—Horsemanship	[1172]
CXXII.	Domestic Life	[1183]
ARAUCANIANS.
CXXIII.	Dress—Etiquette—Government	[1190]
CXXIV.	Domestic Life	[1196]
CXXV.	Games—Social Customs	[1204]
THE GRAN CHACO.
CXXVI.	Appearance—Weapons—Character	[1211]
THE MUNDURUCÚS.
CXXVII.	Manufactures—Social Customs	[1215]
THE TRIBES OF GUIANA.
CXXVIII.	Weapons	[1221]
CXXIX.	Weapons—Concluded	[1228]
CXXX.	War—Superstition	[1239]
CXXXI.	Architecture—Social Customs	[1245]
CXXXII.	Dress—Amusements	[1255]
CXXXIII.	Religion—Burial	[1263]
MEXICO.
CXXXIV.	History—Religion—Art	[1271]
NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.
CXXXV.	Government—Customs	[1273]
CXXXVI.	War	[1281]
CXXXVII.	Hunting—Amusements	[1293]
CXXXVIII.	Religion—Superstition	[1301]
CXXXIX.	Social Life	[1316]
ESQUIMAUX.
CXL.	Appearance—Dress—Manners	[1333]
CXLI.	Hunting—Religion—Burial	[1338]
VANCOUVER’S ISLAND.
CXLII.	The Ahts, and Neighboring Tribes	[1354]
CXLIII.	Canoes—Feasts—Dances	[1362]
CXLIV.	Architecture—Religion—Disposal of Dead	[1369]
ALASKA.
CXLV.	Malemutes—Ingeletes—Co-yukons	[1374]
SIBERIA.
CXLVI.	The Tchuktchi—Jakuts—Tungusi	[1377]
CXLVII.	The Samoïedes—Ostiaks	[1381]
INDIA.
CXLVIII.	The Sowrahs and Khonds	[1385]
CXLIX.	Weapons	[1395]
CL.	Sacrificial Religion	[1407]
CLI.	The Indians, with relation to Animals	[1416]
TARTARY.
CLII.	The Mantchu Tartars	[1422]
CHINA.
CLIII.	Appearance—Dress—Food	[1426]
CLIV.	Warfare	[1433]
CLV.	Social Characteristics	[1441]
JAPAN.
CLVI.	Dress—Art—Amusements	[1449]
CLVII.	Miscellaneous Customs	[1458]
SIAM.
CLVIII.	Government—Dress—Religion	[1467]
ANCIENT EUROPE.
CLIX.	The Swiss Lake-Dwellers	[1473]
CENTRAL AFRICA.
CLX.	The Makondé	[1475]
CLXI.	The Waiyau	[1478]
CLXII.	The Babisa and Babemba	[1482]
CLXIII.	The Manyuema	[1487]
CLXIV.	The Manyuema—Concluded	[1492]
CLXV.	Unyamwezi	[1496]
CLXVI.	Uvinza and Uhha	[1500]
CLXVII.	The Monbuttoo	[1503]
CLXVIII.	The Pygmies	[1508]
CLXIX.	General Characteristics of African Tribes	[1511]
CLXX.	The African Slave Trade	[1515]
CENTRAL ASIA.
CLXXI.	The Kakhyens	[1520]

CHAPTER LXXVI.
AUSTRALIA—Continued.
MEDICINE, SURGERY, AND THE DISPOSAL OF THE DEAD.

BILBOS, OR NATIVE DOCTORS — WOUNDS AND BRUISES — A STRANGE CURE — TREATMENT OF THE HEADACHE — A DREAM AND ITS RESULTS — THE MAGIC CRYSTAL, OR DOCTOR-STONE — ITS EFFECTS ON WOMEN AND CHILDREN — THE DOCTOR-HOUSE — SUCTION AS A MEANS OF CURE — BELIEF IN CHARMS — THE PARENT’S SKULL — CEREMONIES OF MOURNING — CUTTING THE HEAD AND BODY AS A SIGN OF WOE — DRIVING AWAY THE EVIL SPIRITS — FEAR OF GHOSTS — BURIAL AMONG THE PARNKALLAS AND NAUOS — THE TOMB OF SKULLS — A SUMMARY MODE OF BURIAL — FUNERAL OF BOYS — THE TREE-TOMBS — SMOKING THE WARRIORS — INCONSISTENT BEHAVIOR — BURIAL OF OLD WOMEN — THE WIDOWS’ CAPS — RELIGIOUS IDEAS OF THE ABORIGINES — THE VARIOUS EVIL SPIRITS — THE BUNYIP — ROCK AND CAVE PAINTINGS — THEORY OF TRANSMIGRATION.

We will now see how the Australian natives treat sickness of various kinds. Among them are certain personages called bilbos, or doctors, to whom the sick usually appeal in cases of illness or pain. It is not known, however, whether the mere fact of age gives a man the rank of bilbo, or whether it is attained by sundry ceremonials, as is the case with the Africans and other savages.

The most usual mode of treating any local disease or pain is by pressing the hands upon the affected part, and kneading it, a remedy which is found in every part of the world, and which is really efficacious in many complaints, especially in rheumatic affections, or in sprained or over-exerted muscles. If a limb be wounded, bruised, or sore, the native practitioners tie a fillet tightly above it, for the purpose, as they say, of preventing the malady from reaching the body. Headaches are treated by tying a bandage firmly round the temples, and, if the pain be obstinate, the doctors bleed the patient under the arm, using a sharp piece of quartz as a lancet. The flowing blood is never allowed to be wasted, but is received on the body of the operator, and diligently rubbed into the skin, under the notion that by this process both parties are strengthened. This depends, however, on the sex of the patient, women being never bled, nor allowed to have the blood of any other person sprinkled upon them.

About 1832, a curious disease broke out among the natives of Wellington Valley, resembling the small-pox in many things, and yet displaying symptoms which scarcely belong to that dread disease, the one fatal scourge of savage tribes. It was preceded by headache, fever, sore-throat, &c., and accompanied by pustules very much resembling those of the small-pox. It was, however, scarcely virulent enough for the real disease, though it was probably a milder form of it, and was subject to the power of vaccine matter. It was not limited to the natives, but attacked many Europeans just like the genuine small-pox, and in one case was fatal.

It is here mentioned on account of the mode of cure adopted by the native doctors. They punctured the pustules with sharp fish-bones, and squeezed them well with the blunt end of their rude lancets, and it is a noteworthy fact that the rate of mortality was very much reduced. Of course the doctors used other modes, whereby they gave their patients confidence in their powers. The chief of these was performed by means of a number of slender rods, six to nine feet in length, which were stuck in the ground in the form of a crescent, and addressed with long speeches and many mysterious gestures. Among the Australians, this disease, whatever it may be, does not strike the abject terror with which it is usually accompanied. Although they know that it is infectious, they do not abandon the sick person, unless perhaps the doctor pronounces the patient incurable; in which case they save him prolonged pain, and themselves useless trouble, by burying him alive. The native term for this disease is “thunna-thunna,” and it is known to have existed when the country was first discovered, so that it is not imported from civilized countries.

Another remarkable kind of cure for the headache is mentioned by Mr. Angas. The patient being seated on the ground, a string is tied round his head, the knot being carefully adjusted to the middle of the forehead. The operator, who is always a woman, seats herself opposite the patient, places the line between her lips, and frets them with it until they bleed freely. The idea is that the disease, attracted by the blood, passes along the line from the patient’s head, and is cast out together with the blood.

A very remarkable instance of this mode of cure is related in Tyerman and Bennett’s “Voyage round the World.” A man had dreamed that he had been speared in the side, and had died in consequence of the wound. Although, when he woke, he knew it was but a dream, he was so frightened that he became very ill, retired to his hut, chose the place of his burial, and lay down to die.

Nearly a week elapsed, during which he could take no food, grew worse and worse, and it was plain that nature would not hold out much longer. The priests—or rather sorcerers, for it cannot be ascertained that the New Hollanders have any other kind of priests, having, in fact, no religious worship—came to do what they could for him with their enchantments. By their order he was carried down to the side of a running water, and tumbled into the stream, where it was pretty deep, head foremost. When taken out, he was rolled in the sand till his body was quite encased with it. This again was washed off by pouring water over him.

“Meanwhile a young woman of the company was perceived plaiting a cord of kangaroo’s hair, which, when completed, was bound round his chest, and a knot, very cunningly implicated by one of the operators, was placed over that part of his side into which the spear of his dream had entered. From this knot a line was passed to the young woman who had prepared the bandage. This she drew through her mouth backward and forward (as children sometimes do with a piece of packthread) until she began to spit blood, which was said to be sucked by that process from the wound in the sick man’s side. There it was now perceptible that, from whatever cause, a considerable swelling had arisen under the knot. Toward this one of the sorcerers began to stroke the man’s flesh from all the adjacent regions of the back, belly, and chest, as though to force the blood thither. He then applied his mouth to the swelling, and, with hideous noises, sometimes sucked it with his lips, sometimes pressed it violently with his hands, till forth came the point of a spear, four inches in length, which he presented to the astonished spectators and the expecting sufferer, as verily extracted from the man’s side.

“Then he applied his mouth again to the swollen part, from which, although there was no visible wound, he appeared to draw blood and corrupt matter, stains of both being soon seen on the swarthy skin. At length, with distended cheeks, as though he had filled his mouth with the abominable matter, he ran about, anxiously looking for a fit place to discharge it upon; but, affecting to find none, he crossed the water, and deposited the nauseous extract behind a bush. The poor man’s hopes revived, and he now believed that he should get well again. Mr. Dunlop thereupon sent him some tea, which, however, he would not drink, but requested that it might be given to the sorcerer, and, if he drank it, then it would do himself (the patient) good. He was deceived, disappointed, and died.”

The Australians are tolerably good surgeons in a rough-and-ready sort of way, and are clever at setting broken limbs. After bringing the broken ends of the bone together, they support the limb by several pieces of wood which act as splints, and then make the whole secure by bandages, which they often strengthen with gum, exactly as is done in modern surgery.

One of the most powerful remedies employed by the native practitioners is the “doctor-stone.” This is nothing but a common quartz crystal; but the doctors aver that they manufacture it themselves, and that the ingredients are kept secret. Like the witarna, mentioned on page 747, women are never allowed even to look upon the doctor-stone, and are impressed with the belief that, if they dared to set their eyes upon the forbidden object, they would be immediately killed by its radiant powers. The larger the crystal, the more valuable is it; and a tolerably large one can scarcely be procured from the natives at any price.

The doctors say that this stone is not only fatal to women, but also destroys men if flung at them with certain incantations. An European settler once challenged a native doctor to say as many charms as he liked, and throw the magic stone as much as he pleased. This offer, however, he declined, giving the usual excuse of savages, that the white man belonged to a totally different order of beings, and, although the poor black fellow would die from the effects of the doctor-stone, the white man was much too powerful to be hurt by it.

The mode in which the crystal is used is very curious, and has been described by an eye-witness.

A native of the Tumat country, named Golong, was suffering from a spear wound received in a skirmish with a hostile tribe, and was brought to a bilbo, named Baramumbup, to be healed. The patient being laid on the ground outside the encampment so that women could not run the risk of death through the accidental sight of the crystal, the doctor began a close examination of the wound, and sucked it. He then retired to a distance from the patient, muttered some magic words for a minute or so, and placed the crystal in his mouth. Having retained it there for a short time, he removed it, spat on the ground, and with his feet trampled on the saliva, pressing it deeply into the ground. This was repeated several times, and the doctor took his leave.

For several successive evenings the whole of the process was gone through, and the recovery of the patient, which was really rapid, was attributed by all parties to the wonderful efficacy of the doctor-stone. “On making inquiry,” writes Dr. Bennett, “why the physician is so careful in trampling the saliva discharged from his mouth into the ground, no satisfactory reason could be obtained, a vague answer only being returned to the query. But it is not improbable that they consider, by this practice, that they finally destroy the power of the evil spirit, extracted by the operation through the virtues of the stone. Some such reason for this proceeding may be inferred from an observation made to any European who may be present at this part of the ceremony, ‘that he (i. e. the disease) may not come up again.’”

It is remarkable that a ceremony almost exactly identical in principle is employed by the Guaycura tribe of Brazil. Among them the doctors, or payés, cure local ailments, whether wounds or otherwise, by sucking the part affected, spitting into a hole dug in the ground, and then filling in the earth, as if to bury the complaint.

The Australian doctors make great use of the principle of suction, and employ it in all kinds of cases. If, for example, a patient has a bad pain in his stomach from overeating, or suffers more than he thinks right from the blow of a waddy, the doctor sucks at the afflicted part vigorously, and at last produces from his mouth a piece of bone, or some other hard substance, which he asserts to be the concentrated essence of the pain, or other ailment. The reader may remark that the bones with which the gums of youths are lanced in the ceremonies of initiation are supposed to be produced from the bodies of the operators by means of suction.

A very remarkable curative agent is shown in the illustration No. 3, page 765, which is taken from a sketch by Mr. Baines. It consists of a stone building, which at first sight looks so like an ordinary Druidical remain that it might be taken for one, except for its dimensions. Instead, however, of being composed of huge stones, each weighing several tons, it is quite a tiny edifice, scarcely larger than the grotto which children erect with oyster-shells. The patient lies in, or rather under it, the aperture being just wide enough to admit his body, and the small roof only covering a very small portion of the inmate. Sundry superstitious rites are employed at the same time, and the remedy is efficacious, like the crystal already mentioned, in consequence of enlisting the imagination of the sufferer.

These little buildings are found along the Victoria River, and for a considerable time the object for which they were built greatly puzzled the discoverers.

A medicine scarcely less efficacious than the doctor’s stone is human fat, which is carefully preserved, and administered by being rubbed in and around the affected part. As, however, it is highly valued by the warriors it is not easily procured, and, had it to be taken solely from the bodies of slain enemies, would in all probability never be used at all. The efficacy of this repulsive remedy does not depend on the individual from whom it is taken, that of a child or woman being quite as useful as that of a warrior.

According to Mr. G. T. Lloyd, the practice of deserting the helpless is found in Australia as well as in other countries, and is practised exactly as is the case in Africa. When a person is ill the relations, as a rule, do not trouble themselves to visit the sick person, and, when there is no apparent hope of recovery, a supply of food and firing enough to last them for several days is left near them, and they are then abandoned to their fate. Even in the case of poor old Tarmeenia, mentioned on page 747, the son, although he carried his wounded father more than four miles in order to place him in safety, never once came to see him.

Seeing that the natives place such implicit faith in the healing power of the doctor’s stone, it is natural that they should also believe in sundry charms as preservatives against disease and misfortune. One of these charms is a sort of girdle, several inches wide in the middle, and tapering to a mere thong at each end. If it be made of string prepared from the bulrush root, it is called Taara or Kuretti; and if made of human hair, it goes by the name Godlotti. It is used more as a curative than a preventive, and is mostly found among the tribes of the lower Murray River. The hair, when twisted into thread, is wound upon a curious spindle, consisting of two slender pieces of wood placed across each other at right angles.

Another charm is shown in the illustration No. 2, on the 765th page, slung round the neck of the boy. It is the beak of the black swan, which, from its scarlet color, contrasts well with the black skin of the wearer. The little boy’s name is Rimmilliperingery, and Mr. G. F. Angas remarks that he was an engaging little fellow, and had the largest and softest pair of dark eyes that could be imagined. The elder figure is that of a young man named Tyilkilli, belonging to the Parnkalla tribe of Port Lincoln. He has been selected as a favorable example of the Australian young man in good circumstances, well-fed, careless, and gay with the unthinking happiness of mere animal life, which finds a joy in the very fact of existence.

Among many of the tribes may be seen a strange sort of ornament, or rather utensil; namely, a drinking-cup made of a human skull. It is slung on cords and carried by them, and the owner takes it wherever he or she goes. These ghastly utensils are made from the skulls of the nearest and dearest relatives; and when an Australian mother dies, it is thought right that her daughter should form the skull of her mother into a drinking-vessel. The preparation is simple enough. The lower jaw is removed, the brains are extracted, and the whole of the skull thoroughly cleaned. A rope handle made of bulrush fibre is then attached to it, and it is considered fit for use. It is filled with water through the vertebral aperture, into which a wisp of grass is always stuffed, so as to prevent the water from being spilled.

Inconsistency is ever the attribute of savage minds. Although they consider that to convert the skull of a parent into a drinking vessel, and to carry it about with them, is an important branch of filial duty, they seem to have no very deep feelings on the subject. In fact, a native named Wooloo sold his mother’s skull for a small piece of tobacco. His mind was evidently not comprehensive enough to admit two ideas together, and the objective idea of present tobacco was evidently more powerful than the comparative abstraction of filial reverence.

Mr. Angas saw one which was carried by a little girl ten years of age. Like “Little Nell,” she was in attendance upon an old and infirm grandfather, and devoted her little life to him. In nothing was the difference of human customs shown more plainly than in the use of the mother’s skull as a drinking vessel—an act which we should consider as the acme of heathen brutality, but with these aborigines is held to be a duty owed by the child to the parent.

Perhaps my classical readers will remember a chapter in Herodotus which bears on this very subject. He finds fault with Cambyses for breaking into the temples of the Cabeiri, burning their idols, and so hurting the religious feelings of the people; and remarks that he was wary in offending against any religious sentiment, however absurd it might appear to himself. He then proceeds to tell an anecdote of Darius, who had at his court some “Indians called Callatians,” and some Greeks. He asked the Greeks (who always burned their dead, as the Hindoos do now), what bribe would induce them to eat the bodies of their dead parents, and they naturally replied that for no bribe could they perform so horrible a deed. Then, in the presence of the Greeks, he asked the Callatians, who ate their dead (as several savage nations do now), for what sum they would consent to burn the bodies of their dead. They, as it appears from the style of their answer, were even more shocked than the Greeks at the idea of such horrible sacrilege, and would not deign to give a direct answer, but begged Darius to “speak words of good omen.” (See Thalia, xxxvii. 8.)

A somewhat similar proceeding is narrated in the life of Nussir-er-deen, the late king of Oude. His native ministers, jealous of the influence exercised over him by some of his European friends, complained that the English guests treated the monarch with disrespect, by retaining their shoes in his royal presence. The king, who, enervated as he was by vanity, dissipation, self-indulgence, and flattery, was no fool, immediately proposed a compromise. “Listen to me, nawab; and you, general, listen to me. The King of England is my master, and these gentlemen would go into his presence with their shoes on. Shall they not come into mine, then? Do they come before me with their hats on? Answer me, your excellency.”

“They do not, your majesty.”

“No, that is their way of showing respect. They take off their hats, and you take off your shoes. But come now, let us have a bargain. Wallah! but I will get them to take off their shoes and leave them without, as you do, if you will take off your turban and leave it without, as they do.” (See Knighton’s “Private Life of an Eastern King.”)

We now come naturally to the burial of the dead, and the various ceremonies which accompany the time of mourning. Although the relatives seem so careless about the sick person, they really keep a watch, and, as soon as death actually takes place, they announce the fact by loud cries. The women are the principal mourners, and they continue to sob and shriek and moan until they are forced to cease from absolute exhaustion. They cut their bodies until the blood streams freely from their wounds, and some of them chop their own heads with their tomahawks until their shoulders and bodies are covered with blood.

The reader will probably have noticed how widely spread is this custom of wounding the body as a sign of mourning, and especially as a lamentation for the dead. We have seen that it exists in Africa, and we shall see that it is practised in many other countries. That it was practised in ancient days by the people among whom the Jews lived, we see from several passages of Scripture. See for example Deut. xiv. 1: “Ye shall not cut yourselves, nor make any baldness between your eyes for the dead.” Also Jer. xvi. 6: “They shall not be buried, neither shall men lament for them, nor cut themselves, nor make themselves bald for them.” There is also the well-known passage concerning the sacrifice that the priests of Baal offered, in the course of which they “cut themselves after their manner with knives and lancets, till the blood gushed out upon them.”

The body is not disposed of at once, but is suffered to remain for a considerable time, during which decomposition takes place, and is allowed to work its course until the flesh is separated from the bones. The body is watched carefully during the night; and if a passing meteor should appear in the sky, the people shout and wave firebrands in order to drive away a certain evil spirit named Yúmburbar, which is thought to be the real though invisible cause of death and all calamities, and to haunt the spot where a dead body lies for the purpose of feeding upon it.

When decomposition has done its work, the bones are carefully collected, cleaned, and painted red, after which they are wrapped up in bark, and carried about with the tribe for a time. This term being fulfilled, they are finally disposed of in various ways, according to the customs of the tribe to which they belonged. Some tribes scoop holes in soft rocks, and place the remains therein, while others prefer hollow trees for that purpose. Sometimes the body is placed in the cave without being reduced to a skeleton, and in some places the soil is of such a nature that the body becomes dried before decomposition can proceed very far. During the Exhibition of 1862 one of these desiccated bodies was exhibited in England, and called the “petrified” man. It was, however, nothing but a shrivelled and dried-up body, such as is often found in very dry soils.

Near the Murrumbidgee River, in the Wellington Valley, there is a remarkable stalactitic cavern, divided into several “halls.” This cavern is, or has been, a favorite burying-place of the aborigines, who seem to have employed it for the same purpose that Abraham purchased the cave of Machpelah. In consequence of the use of the cavern as a burial place, the natives are rather nervous about entering it, and they flatly refuse to venture into the darker recesses, for fear of the “dibbil-dibbil.” When Dr. Bennett visited it in 1832, he found in a small side cave the skeleton of a woman. The bones had been placed there nearly twenty years before.

The Parnkalla and Nauo tribes have another mode of burial, which somewhat resembles that which is employed by the Bechuanas. The body is placed in a crouching or squatting position, such as is employed by the natives when sitting, the knees being drawn up to the chin, the legs close to the body, and the hands clasped over the legs. Examples of this attitude may be seen in many of the illustrations. A circular pit or grave, about five feet in depth, is then dug, and after the body is lowered into the pit a number of sticks are laid over the grave, nearly touching one another. A thick layer of leaves and another of grass are then placed on the sticks, and over all is heaped the earth which has been dug out of the pit, so that the grave looks something like a huge anthill.

In Northern Australia the natives have a curious method of disposing of the dead. They gather the skulls together, and heap them into a circular mound, placing stones round them to keep them in their places. They do not cover the skulls, but make the tomb in an open and conspicuous place. Such a tomb is illustrated on page 765.

The blacks of the Clarence River build monuments which are somewhat similar in appearance, but are made of different materials. They place a number of stones in a circle, and in the centre they erect an upright slab of stone. They can give no reason for this custom, but only say that “black-fella make it so,” or “it belong to black-fella.” The former reply signifies that the custom has always prevailed among the natives; and the second, that the tomb shows that a native lies buried beneath the upright stone.

Some of the tribes along the Clarence River have a curious mode of disposing of the dead—a mode which certainly has its advantages in its great economy of trouble. When an old man feels that the hand of death is on him, he looks out for a hollow tree, climbs it, lets himself down to the bottom of the hollow, and so dies in his tomb.

In New South Wales the young people are buried beneath small tumuli, but the adults are buried in a rather curious fashion. A pile of dry wood, leaves, &c. is built, about three feet in height and six or seven in length. On the pile the body is laid on its back, having the face directed toward the rising sun. The fishing apparatus, spears, and other weapons and implements of the dead man are next laid on the pile, and the body is then covered over with large logs of wood. The pile is fired by the nearest relative, and on the following day, when the place is cool, the ashes of the dead are collected, and carefully buried.

Should a woman die, leaving an unweaned child, the poor little creature is buried together with the ashes of its mother. The natives defend this practice as a humane one, saying, with savage justice, that it is better to kill the child speedily than to allow it to pine to death from starvation.

As is the case with many tribes in different parts of the world, as soon as any one dies the name borne by the deceased is no more mentioned. So strictly is this rule observed, that if another member of the tribe should happen to bear the same name, it must be abandoned, and a new name taken, by which the bearer will ever afterward be known.

Mr. Angas, to whom we are indebted for so much of our knowledge of the Australians, gives an interesting account of the burial of a boy, as described to him by an eye-witness:

“Previously to burying the corpse of the boy, a contest with clubs and spears took place, but no injury was done to the parties engaged. The body was placed in a bark canoe, cut to the proper length, a spear, a fishing-spear, and a throwing-stick, with several other articles, being placed besides the corpse. The women and children made great lamentations during the ceremony, and the father stood apart, a picture of silent grief.

“The canoe was placed on the heads of two natives, who proceeded with it slowly toward the grave; some of the attendants waving tufts of dried grass backward and forward under the canoe and amongst the bushes as they passed along. The grave being dug, a native strewed it with grass, and stretched himself at full length in the grave, first on his back and then on his side. As they were about to let down the child into the grave, they first pointed to the deceased and then to the skies, as though they had a vague idea that the spirit had ascended to another world.

“The body was then laid in the grave, with the face looking toward the rising sun, and, in order that the sunshine might fall upon the spot, care was taken to cut down all shrubs around that could in any way obstruct its beams. Branches were placed over the grave, grass and boughs on them, and the whole was crowned with a log of wood, on which a native extended himself for some minutes, with his face to the sky.”

At the beginning of this description is mentioned a sham fight. This is held in consequence of a curious notion prevalent among the aborigines, that death from natural causes must be ransomed with blood. It suffices if blood be drawn even from a friend, and the mode by which they make the required offering, and at the same time gratify their combative nature, is by getting up a sham fight, in which some one is nearly sure to be wounded more or less severely.

Sometimes the body of the dead man is disposed of rather oddly. In some parts of Australia the natives, instead of consuming the body by fire, or hiding it in caves or in graves, make it a peculiarly conspicuous object. Should a tree grow favorably for their purpose, they will employ it as the final resting-place of the dead body. Lying in its canoe coffin, and so covered over with leaves and grass that its shape is quite disguised, the body is lifted into a convenient fork of the tree, and lashed to the boughs by native ropes. No further care is taken of it, and if, in process of time, it should be blown out of the tree, no one will take the trouble of replacing it.

Should no tree be growing in the selected spot, an artificial platform is made for the body, by fixing the ends of stout branches in the ground, and connecting them at their tops by smaller horizontal branches. Such are the curious tombs which are represented in the [illustration No. 3], on page 775. These strange tombs are mostly placed among the reeds, so that nothing can be more mournful than the sound of the wind as it shakes the reeds below the branch in which the corpse is lying. The object of this aerial tomb is evident enough, namely, to protect the corpse from the dingo, or native dog. That the ravens and other carrion-eating birds should make a banquet upon the body of the dead man does not seem to trouble the survivors in the least, and it often happens that the traveller is told by the croak of the disturbed ravens that the body of a dead Australian is lying in the branches over his head.

The aerial tombs are mostly erected for the bodies of old men who have died a natural death; but when a young warrior has fallen in battle the body is treated in a very different manner. A moderately high platform is erected, and upon this is seated the body of the dead warrior, with the face toward the rising sun. The legs are crossed, and the arms kept extended by means of sticks. The fat is then removed, and, after being mixed with red ochre, is rubbed over the body, which has previously been carefully denuded of hair, as is done in the ceremony of initiation. The legs and arms are covered with zebra-like stripes of red, white, and yellow, and the weapons of the dead man are laid across his lap.

The body being thus arranged, fires are lighted under the platform, and kept up for ten days or more, during the whole of which time the friends and mourners remain by the body, and are not permitted to speak. Sentinels relieve each other at appointed intervals, their duty being to see that the fires are not suffered to go out, and to keep the flies away by waving leafy boughs or bunches of emu feathers. When a body has been treated in this manner, it becomes hard and mummy-like, and the strangest point is, that the wild dogs will not touch it after it has been so long smoked. It remains sitting on the platform for two months or so, and is then taken down and buried, with the exception of the skull, which is made into a drinking-cup for the nearest relative, as has already been mentioned.

(1.) CARVED FEATHER BOX, NEW ZEALAND.
(See [page 813].)

(2.) SMOKING THE BODIES OF SLAIN WARRIORS. (See [page 777].)

(3.) TREE TOMBS OF AUSTRALIA. (See [page 774].)

Considering the trouble which is taken in the preparation of these bodies, and the evident respect which is felt for a brave warrior in death as well as in life, the after treatment of them is very remarkable. When a friend, or even an individual of the same tribe, sees one of these mummified bodies for the first time, he pays no honor to it, but loads it with reproaches, abusing the dead man for dying when the tribe stood in such need of brave and skilful men, and saying that he ought to have known better than to die when there was plenty of food in the country. Then, after contemplating the body for some time, he hurls his spear and club at it, crying out at the same time, “Why did you die? Take that for dying.”

In the [illustration No. 2], on page 775, two of these bodies are seen seated on the platform, supported by being tied to the uprights by their hands and heads, and having their weapons in their laps. On one side is one of the sentinels engaged in driving away the flies with his flapper, and on the other is a second sentinel bringing fuel for the fire. The seated figures belong to the same tribe.

Around Portland Bay, and toward the south-eastern parts of the continent, the natives have a curious combination of entombment and burning. They let the dead body down into one of the hollow trees, where it is supported in an upright position. A quantity of dry leaves and grass is then heaped upon the tree, and the whole consumed by fire, amid the dismal screams and cries of the women.

It is rather curious that funeral ceremonies are only employed in the case of those whose death is supposed to be a loss to the tribe. Men, and even boys, are therefore honored with funeral rites, because the younger men are warriors, the boys would have been warriors, and the old men have done service by arms, and are still useful for their wisdom. Even young women are buried with some amount of show, because they produce children for the tribe.

But of all beings an old woman is most utterly despised. She can render no service; she has never been considered as anything but a mere domesticated animal, and even for domestic purposes she has ceased to be useful. When she dies, therefore, no one regrets her. She is nothing but a useless burden on her people, consuming food which she does not earn, and sitting by the fire when the younger women are engaged in work. It is nothing to them that she has worn herself out in the hard, thankless, and never ceasing labor which constitutes the life of an Australian woman, and so when she dies her body is drawn away out of the camp by the heels, and stuffed away hastily in some hollow tree or cave that may be most convenient. Sometimes the body is laid on a bough, as has already been described; but even in such a case it is merely laid on the branch, without being placed in a canoe, or covered with matting, boughs, and leaves, as is the case with the bodies of men. The corpse is allowed to remain on the branch until it falls to pieces; and when any of her relatives choose to take the trouble, they will scrape a hole in the sand and bury the scattered bones.

The shee-oak, or casuarina, is the tree which is generally selected for this purpose, partly because it is one of the commonest trees of Australia, and partly because the peculiar growth of its boughs affords a firm platform for the corpse.

The time of mourning does not cease with the funeral, nor, in case of a tree-tomb, with the subsequent interment of the bones. At stated times the women, by whom the mourning is chiefly performed, visit the tomb, and with their kattas, or digging-sticks, peck up the earth around them, and make the place look neat. This done they sit down and utter their most doleful cries and lamentations. In some places they content themselves with vocal lamentations, but in others the women think it necessary to show their grief by repeating the head chopping, limb scarring, and other marks of blood-letting which accompany that portion of the funeral ceremonies.

In one part of Australia, near the north-west bend of the Murray, a most remarkable custom prevails. Widows attend upon the tombs of their dead husbands, and, after shaving their heads, cover them with pipe-clay kneaded into a paste. The head is first covered with a net, to prevent the pipe-clay from sticking too tightly to the skin, a misfortune which is partly averted by the amount of grease with which every Australian is anointed.

A layer of this clay more than an inch in thickness is plastered over the head, and when dry it forms a skull-cap exactly fitting the head on which it was moulded, and on account of its weight, which is several pounds, must be very uncomfortable to the wearer. These badges of mourning may be found lying about near the tumuli, and, until their real use was discovered, they were very mysterious objects to travellers. In the [illustration No. 1], on the 781st page, is seen a burying place near the river. Several of the mound tombs of the natives are shown, and in the foreground are two widows, seated in the peculiar attitude of Australian women, and wearing the widow’s cap of pipe-clay. Several other caps are lying near the tombs, having been already employed in the ceremonies of mourning.

So careful are the natives of the marks of respect due from the survivors to the dead, that a widow belonging to one of the tribes on the Clarence River was put to death because she neglected to keep in order the tomb of her late husband, and to dig up periodically the earth around it.

From the disposal of the dead, we are naturally led to the religious belief of the Australians. Like all savages, they are very reticent about their religious feelings, concealing as far as possible their outward observances from the white people, and avowing ignorance, if questioned respecting the meaning of those which have become known to the strangers. Some observances, however, have been explained by Gi’ôm, the unfortunate Scotch woman who had to reside so long among the Kowráregas, and others by native converts to Christianity. Even these latter have not been able to shake off the superstitious ideas which they had contracted through the whole of their previous lives, and there is no doubt that they concealed much from their interrogators, and, if pressed too closely, wilfully misled them.

The following short account will, however, give an idea of the state of religious feeling among the aborigines, as far as can be ascertained. And, in consequence of the rapid and steady decrease of the native tribes, it is possible that our knowledge of this subject will never be greater than it is at present.

In the first place, there are no grounds for thinking that the aborigines believe in any one Supreme Deity, nor, in fact, in a deity of any kind whatever. As is usual with most savage nations, their belief in supernatural beings is limited to those who are capable of doing mischief, and, although the conception of a beneficent spirit which will do good never seems to enter an Australian’s mind, he believes fully, in his misty fashion, in the existence of many evil spirits which will do harm.

Of these there are many. One of them is the Arlak, a being which takes the shape of a man. It is only seen at night, and is in the habit of watching for stragglers in the dark, seizing them and carrying them off. Several natives told Mr. M’Gillivray that they had seen the arlak; and one man, who had summoned enough courage to fight it when it attacked him, showed the marks of the demon’s teeth upon his body. Fortunately, the arlak cannot endure light, and therefore the natives, if they have to go the smallest distance in the dark, take a fire-stick in one hand and a weapon of some sort in the other.

One kind of evil spirit, which is very much dreaded by the aborigines, is the one in whom death is personified. He is short, thick, very ugly, and has a disagreeable smell. The natives of the Moorundi district believe in a native spirit, wonderfully similar in attributes to the Necker of German mythology. Although, according to their accounts, it is very common, they have great difficulty in describing it, and, as far as can be ascertained from their statements, it is like a huge star-fish. This demon inhabits the fresh water, or there might have been grounds for believing it to be merely an exaggeration of the cuttle-fish.

Throughout the greater part of Australia is found the belief in the Bunyip, a demon which infests woods, and which has been seen, as is said, not only by natives but by white men. The different accounts of the animal vary extremely. Some who have seen it aver it to be as large as a horse, to have a pair of eyes as big as saucers, and a pair of enormous horns.

Others give a very different account of it, and one of the Barrabool Hill natives gave a very animated description of the dreaded bunyip. He illustrated his lecture by a spirited drawing, in which the bunyip was represented as having a long neck and head, something like that of the giraffe, a thick flowing mane, and two short and massive fore-legs, each of which was armed with four powerful talons. The entire body was covered with strong scales, overlapping each other like those of the hawksbill turtle. This creature he represented as half beast, half demon, and vaunted the superior courage of his ancestors, who ventured to oppose this terrible creature as it lay in wait for their wives and children, and drove it out of the reeds and bush into the water whence it came.

Thinking that some large and now extinct beast might have lived in Australia, which might have been traditionally known to the aborigines, scientific men have taken particular pains to ransack those portions of the country which they could reach, in hopes of finding remains which might be to Australia what those of the megatherium and other huge monsters are to the Old World. Nothing of the kind has, however, been found. Some very large bones were once discovered on the banks of a shallow salt lagoon (just the place for the bunyip), but when sent to the British Museum they were at once found to be the remains of a gigantic kangaroo. At present, the legend of the bunyip stands on a level with that of the kraken—every native believes it, some aver that they have seen it, but no one has ever discovered the least tangible proof of its existence.

To these evil spirits the natives attribute every illness or misfortune, and in consequence are anxious to avoid or drive them away. All meteors are reckoned by them among the evil spirits, and are fancifully thought to be ghosts which multiply by self-division. The aborigines think, however, that by breathing as loudly as they can, and repeating some cabalistic words, they disarm the demons of their power.

They have one very curious belief,—namely, that any one who ventured to sleep on the grave of a deceased person, he would ever afterward be freed from the power of evil spirits. The ordeal is, however, so terrible that very few summon up sufficient courage to face it. “During that awful sleep the spirit of the deceased would visit him, seize him by the throat, and, opening him, take out his bowels, which it would afterward replace, and close up the wound! Such as are hardy enough to go through this terrible ordeal—encounter the darkness of the night and the solemnity of the grave—are thenceforth ‘koradjee’ men, or priests, and practise sorcery and incantations upon the others of their tribe.”

In Southern Australia, the natives believe that the sun and moon are human beings, who once inhabited the earth. The planets are dogs belonging to the moon, who run about her; and the various constellations are groups of children. An eclipse of either the sun or moon is looked upon as a terrible calamity, being sure to be the forerunner of disease and death.

All burial-places of the dead are held as liable to be haunted by evil spirits, and are therefore avoided. Promontories, especially those which have rocky headlands, are also considered as sacred; and it is probably on account of that idea that the skull monuments, mentioned on [page 773], are raised.

Some of these places are rendered interesting by specimens of native drawings, showing that the aborigines of Australia really possess the undeveloped elements of artistic power. Owing to the superstition which prevails, the natives can scarcely be induced to visit such spots, giving as their reason for refusing that “too much dibbil-dibbil walk there.” Mr. Angas was fortunate enough, however, to discover a considerable number of these drawings and carvings, and succeeded in impressing into his service an old native woman. His description is so vivid, that it must be given in his own words:—

“The most important result of our rambles around the bays and rocky promontories of Port Jackson was the discovery of a new and remarkable feature connected with the history of the natives formerly inhabiting this portion of New South Wales.

“I refer to their carvings in outline, cut into the surface of flat rocks in the neighborhood, and especially on the summits of the various promontories about the harbors of the coast. Although these carvings exist in considerable numbers, covering all the flat rocks upon many of the headlands overlooking the water, it is a singular fact that up to the present time they appear to have remained unobserved; and it was not until my friend Mr. Miles first noticed the rude figure of a kangaroo cut upon the surface of a flat rock near Camp Cove, that we were led to make a careful search for these singular and interesting remains of a people who are now nearly extinct.

“About a dozen natives of the Sydney and Broken Bay tribes were encamped amongst the bushes on the margin of a small fresh-water lake, close to Camp Cove; and from amongst them we selected ‘Old Queen Gooseberry’ (as she is generally styled by the colonists) to be our guide, promising her a reward of flour and tobacco if she would tell us what she knew about these carvings, and conduct us to all the rocks and headlands in the neighborhood where like figures existed. At first the old woman objected, saying that such places were all koradjee ground, or ‘priest’s ground,’ and that she must not visit them; but at length, becoming more communicative, she told us all she knew, and all that she had heard her father say, respecting them. She likewise consented at last to guide us to several spots near the North Land, where she said the carvings existed in greater numbers; as also the impressions of hands upon the sides of high rocks.

“With some difficulty we prevailed upon the haggard old creature to venture with us into a whale-boat; so, with Queen Gooseberry for our guide, we crossed to the North Land. After examining the flat rocks in every direction, we found sufficient examples of these singular outlines to confirm at once the opinion that they were executed by the aboriginal inhabitants; but at what period is quite uncertain. From the half-obliterated state of many of them (although the lines are cut nearly an inch deep into the hard rock), and from the fact that from several of them we were compelled to clear away soil and shrubs of long-continued growth, it is evident that they have been executed a very long time.

“At first we could not bring ourselves to believe that these carvings were the work of savages, and we conjectured that the figure of the kangaroo might have been the work of some European; but when, pursuing our researches further, we found all the most out-of-the-way and least accessible headlands adorned with similar carvings, and also that the whole of the subjects represented indigenous objects—such as kangaroos, opossums, sharks, the heileman or shield, the boomerang, and, above all, the human figure in the attitudes of the corrobboree dances—we could come to no other conclusion than that they were of native origin. Europeans would have drawn ships, and horses, and men with hats upon their heads, had they attempted such a laborious and tedious occupation.

“An old writer on New South Wales, about the year 1803, remarks, when referring to the natives, ‘They have some taste for sculpture, most of their instruments being carved with rude work, effected with pieces of broken shell; and on the rocks are frequently to be seen various figures of fish, clubs, swords, animals, &c., not contemptibly represented.’

“Some of the figures of fish measured twenty-five feet in length; and it is curious that the representations of the shield exactly corresponded with that used by the natives of Port Stephens at the present day. These sculptured forms prove that the New Hollanders exercised the art of design, which has been questioned, and they also serve to corroborate Captain Grey’s discoveries of native delineations in caves upon the north-west coast of Australia, during his expedition of discovery. At Lane Cove, at Port Aiken, and at Point Piper, we also met with similar carvings. Whilst on a visit at the latter place, it occurred to me that on the flat rocks at the extremity of the grounds belonging to the estate where I was staying, there might be carvings similar to those at the Heads; and on searching carefully I found considerable numbers of them in a tolerably perfect state of preservation. Of all these I took measurements, and made careful fac-simile drawings on the spot.”

In the appendix to his work, Mr. Angas gives reduced copies of these figures, some of which are executed with wonderful spirit and fidelity. Even the human figures, which are shown with extended arms and spread legs, as in the dance, are far better than those usually drawn by savages, infinitely superior to those produced by the artists of Western Africa, while some of the animals are marvellously accurate, reminding the observer of the outline drawings upon Egyptian monuments. The best are, perhaps, a shark and a kangaroo. The latter is represented in the attitude of feeding.

In some parts of Australia, the carvings and paintings are usually in caves by the water’s edge, and of such a character is the cave which is shown in the [illustration No. 2], on the following page. These caves are in sandstone rock, and the figures upon them are mostly those of men and kangaroos, and it is a remarkable fact that in the human figures, although their eyes, noses, and even the joints of the knees, are boldly marked, the mouth is invariably absent.

Human hands and arms are often carved on rocks. One very remarkable example was discovered by Captain Grey in North-West Australia. When penetrating into a large cave, out of which ran a number of smaller caves, the explorers were struck by a really astonishing trick of native art. The sculptor had selected a rock at the side of the cavity, and had drawn upon it the figure of a hand and arm. This had then been painted black, and the rock around it colored white with pipe-clay, so that on entering the cave it appeared exactly as if the hand and arm of a black man were projecting through some crevice which admitted light.

Their belief in ghosts implies a knowledge that the spirit of man is immortal. Yet their ideas on this subject are singularly misty, not to say inconsistent, one part of their belief entirely contradicting the other. They believe, for example, that when the spirit leaves the body, it wanders about for some time in darkness, until at last it finds a cord, by means of which a “big black-fella spirit” named Oomudoo pulls it up from the earth. Yet they appropriate certain parts of the earth as the future residence of the different tribes, the spirits of the departed Nauos being thought to dwell in the islands of Spencer’s Gulf, while those of the Parnkallas go to other islands toward the west. As if to contradict both ideas, we have already seen that throughout the whole of Australia the spirits of the dead are supposed to haunt the spots where their bodies lie buried.

And, to make confusion worse confounded, the aborigines believe very firmly in transmigration, some fancying that the spirits of the departed take up their abode in animals, but by far the greater number believing that they are transformed into white men. This latter belief was put very succinctly by a native, who stated in the odd jargon employed by them, that “when black-fella tumble down, he jump up all same white-fella.”

This idea of transmigration into the forms of white men is very remarkable, as it is shared by the negro of Africa, who could not have had any communication with the black native of Australia. And, still more strangely, like the Africans, they have the same word for a white man and for a spirit. The reader may remember that when Mrs. Thompson was captured by the natives, one of them declared that she was his daughter Gi’ôm, who had become a white woman, and the rest of the tribe coincided in the belief. Yet, though she became for the second time a member of the tribe, they always seemed to feel a sort of mistrust, and often, when the children were jeering at her on account of her light complexion and ignorance of Australian accomplishments, some elderly person would check them, and tell them to leave her in peace, as, poor thing, she was nothing but a ghost.

It has been found, also, that numbers of white persons have been recognized by the blacks as being the spirits of their lost relatives, and have in consequence been dignified with the names of those whom they represented. Mr. M’Gillivray mentions that the natives of Port Essington have a slight modification of this theory, believing that after death they become Malays.

Of their belief in the metempsychosis, or transmigration into animal forms, there are but few examples. Dr. Bennett mentions that on one occasion, at Bérana Plains, when an European was chasing one of the native animals, a native who was with him begged him not to kill it, but to take it alive, as it was “him brother.” When it was killed, he was very angry, and, as a proof his sincerity, refused to eat any of it, continually grumbling and complaining of the “tumbling down him brother.”

(1.) AUSTRALIAN WIDOWS AND THEIR CAPS.
(See [page 777].)

(2.) CAVE WITH NATIVE DRAWINGS.
(See [page 780].)

The Nauo tribe preserve a tradition which involves this metempsychosis. Once upon a time, a certain great warrior, named Willoo, fought their tribe, and carried off all the women, and killed all the men except two. The survivors climbed up a great tree, followed by Willoo. They, however, broke off the branch on which he was climbing, so that he fell to the ground, and was seized by a dingo below, when he immediately died, and was changed into an eagle hawk, which has ever afterward been called by the name of Willoo.

The same tribe think that a small lizard was the originator of the sexes, and in consequence call it by different names; the men using the term ibirri, and the women waka. Following up the idea, the men kill every male lizard that they can find, while the women do the same by the females.

Connected with this subject is their idea of creation. Of a single Creator of all things they have not the least notion, but they possess some traditions as to the origin of men or natural objects. The Kowrárega tribe say that the first created man was a huge giant named Adi. One day, while he was fishing off Hammond Island, he was caught by the tide and drowned, a great rock starting up to mark the spot. This is now called Hammond’s Rock. His wives saw his fate, committed suicide by flinging themselves into the sea, and were immediately changed into a series of dry rocks on a neighboring reef. These rocks are still called by the natives Ipīle, i. e. the Wives.

The natives of the Lower Murray have a curious tradition respecting the origin of the river, and the Alexandrina and Albert Lakes. The river was made by Oomudoo, the “big black-fella spirit,” already mentioned. He came down from the sky in his canoe, and ordered the water to rise and form the river, which he then clothed with bulrushes and populated with fish. He brought two wives with him, but they unfortunately proved intractable, and ran away from him, whereupon Oomudoo made the two lakes in question, one of which drowned each wife.

CHAPTER LXXVII.
AUSTRALIA—Concluded.
ARCHITECTURE AND BOAT-BUILDING.

PARALLEL BETWEEN THE BOSJESMAN AND THE AUSTRALIAN — MODES OF BUILDING HUTS — A SUMMER ENCAMPMENT — RUDE NATURE OF THE HUTS — RETREATS OF THE WOMEN — BONE HUTS OF ENCOUNTER BAY — WINTER HOUSES — HUTS NEAR THE COORUNG — FIRE-MAKING — BIRD-SNARING — A SELF-ACTING SNARE — BOAT-BUILDING — USES OF THE STRINGY BARK — A FRAIL VESSEL — CANOE FOR GENERAL USE — THE REED CANOE — GRADUAL EXTINCTION OF NATIVE TRIBES.

In many points the Australian savage bears a curious resemblance to the Bosjesman of Southern Africa, of whom a full account has already been given at 242-268 page.

So similar, indeed, are they, that the colonists use the word Bushman to designate the native savage, just as they call the spotted dasyure by the name of cat, and the wombat by that of badger. Much confusion has consequently arisen; and there is now before me a book descriptive of savage life, in which the author has mixed up the Bosjesman of Africa and the Bushman of Australia in the most amusing manner, actually transplanting a quotation from a book of African travels into the account of Australia.

Like the Bosjesman, the Australian depends upon his weapons for the greater part of his food, living almost entirely upon the game which he kills, and being skilled in the art of destroying the wariest and most active of animals with the simplest of weapons. He lives in a state of perpetual feud, his quarrels not being worthy of the name of warfare; and his beau idéal of a warrior is a man who steals upon his enemy by craft, and kills his foe without danger to himself.

He cultivates no land, neither has he the least notion of improving his social condition. He cares nothing for clothes, except, perhaps, as a partial shelter from the elements, and utterly ridicules the notion that there is any connexion between clothing and modesty.

Indeed, on one occasion, when a girl had been presented with a petticoat by a white lady, and returned to her people, displaying with pride her newly acquired property, her companions instead of displaying envy at her finery, only jeered at her, inquiring whether she thought herself so much better than her forefathers, that she should want to wear clothes like the white strangers. The consequence was, that in a day or two the solitary garment was thrown aside, and she walked about as before, in the primitive accoutrements of her tribe.

Like the African Bosjesman, the Australian native has no settled home, although he considers himself as having a right to the district in which his tribe have taken up their abode. Contrary to the usage of civilized life, he is sensitive on the general question, and careless in detail. With civilized beings the hearth and home take the first place in the affections, the love of country being merely an extension of the love of home. With the Australian, however, as well as the Bosjesman, the case is just reversed. He has no home, and cares not for any one spot more than another, except that some spots are sheltered and others exposed. He passes a semi-nomad existence, not unlike that of the Arab, save that instead of pitching his tent on a convenient spot, and taking it away when he leaves it, he does not trouble himself even to carry the simple materials of a tent, but builds a rude hut in any spot which he may happen to fancy, and leaves it to decay when he forsakes the spot.

The chief object of the ordinary hut made by an Australian savage is to defend the inmates from the cold south-west breezes. Consequently, the entrances of the huts may be found, as a rule, turned toward the north-east, whence come the warm winds that have passed over the equator.

The summer encampment (see [page 787]) of an Australian family is very simple. A number of leafy boughs are stuck in the ground in a semicircular form, the size of the enclosed space varying with the number of the family. These boughs are seldom more than four feet in height, and often scarcely exceed a yard, their only object being to keep off the wind from the fire, and from the bodies of the natives as they squat round the flame or lie asleep. That any one should expect a shelter while he is standing never seems to enter the imagination of an Australian savage, who, like other savages, never dreams of standing when he can sit, or, indeed, of taking any trouble that is not absolutely necessary.

All the stories that are told of the industry of savage life are pure inventions, and if labor be, as we are often told, the truest nobility, we ought to hear no more of the “noble savage.” Consistently with this idea, the native Australian’s only idea of the hut is a place where he can sit and gorge himself with food, and lie down to sleep after his enormous meal. A fence a yard in height is therefore quite good enough for him, and, as long as no rain falls, he thinks a roof to be a needless expenditure of labor.

In the [illustration] referred to we have an example of an encampment on which the natives have bestowed rather more care than usual, and have actually taken the pains to form the branches into rude huts. The spears, shields, and other weapons of the natives are seen scattered about, while round the fire sit or lie the men who have satisfied their hunger. The reader will perceive that from a little distance such an encampment would be almost invisible; and, indeed, except by the thin smoke of the fire, the most practised eye can scarcely detect the spot where natives are encamping. Even the spears which project above the bush huts look at a little distance merely like dried sticks; and, if the inhabitants be very anxious to escape observation, they establish their encampment in a retired spot, where the surrounding objects harmonize as closely as possible with the rude shelter which answers all their needs.

In many places the natives construct a habitation similar in principle, but differing in structure. Should the locality abound in the eucalypytus, or stringy-bark tree, the natives make a hut altogether different in appearance. With wonderful dexterity, they strip off the bark of the tree in large flakes, six or seven feet in length. A few large branches of trees are then laid on the ground, so that they form a rough sort of framework, and upon these branches the flakes of bark are laid. An hour’s labor will make one of these huts, so that the natives have really no inducement to take any care of them. Even the very best hut which a native Australian ever made would be inferior to the handiwork of an English boy of ten years old. For my own part, I remember building far better huts than those of the Australians, though I was at the time much below ten years of age, and had gained all my knowledge of practical architecture from “Sandford and Merton.”

There is, however, one great advantage in these bark huts—namely, the rapidity with which they can be made, and the shelter which they really do give from the traveller’s great enemy, the night wind. Even European travellers have been glad to avail themselves of these simple structures, and have appreciated the invaluable aid of a few sheets of bark propped against a fallen branch. Those who have been forced to travel without tents through a houseless country have learned by experience that the very best shelter from the night winds is not height, but width. A tree, for example, forms but a very poor shelter, while a low wall barely eighteen inches high and six feet in length keeps off the wind, and enables the wearied traveller to rest in comparative comfort. Such a shelter is easily made from the sheets of stringy bark, one or two of which will form a shelter for several sleepers.

Perhaps the simplest huts that human beings ever dignified by the name of habitation are those which are made by the women of a tribe when the men are away. It sometimes happens that the whole of the adult males go off on an expedition which will last for a considerable time—such, for example, as a raid upon a neighboring tribe—leaving the women and children to take care of themselves. These, knowing that they might be pounced upon by enemies who would take advantage of the absence of their defenders, retire into the recesses of the woods, where they build the oddest houses imaginable, half burrows scraped among the roots of trees, and half huts made of bark and decayed wood. These habitations are so inconspicuous that even the practised eye of the native can scarcely discover them.

On the shores of Encounter Bay may be seen some very curious habitations. Every now and then a whale is thrown ashore by a tempest; and in such a case the tribes of the neighborhood flock round it with great rejoicings, seeing in it an unlimited supply of food. Huge as the animal may be, it is ere long consumed, and nothing left but the skeleton. Of the bones the natives make the framework of their huts, the ends of the ribs being fixed in the ground, so that the bones form the supports of the arched roof, which is nothing more than boughs, grass, and matting thrown almost at random upon the bony framework.

During the winter time the native huts are of better construction, although the best hut that an Australian ever made is but a very rude and primitive specimen of architecture. These winter huts are made on the same principle as those employed in summer, but the materials are more closely put together. The framework of these huts is made by sticking a number of saplings in the ground, and tying them together. Smaller branches and twigs are then passed in and out of the uprights, and pressed down to make a tolerably firm wall. Over the wall comes a layer of large leaves, and an outer covering of tea-tree bark is placed over the trees, and held in its place by a lashing of rattan. These houses are about five feet in height, and have an arched opening just large enough for a man to enter on his hands and knees.

Such huts as these, however, are but seldom seen, the ordinary winter dwellings being made of bushes, as seen in an [illustration] on the next page. Near the entrance, but not within it, the fire is kindled, and at night the natives crowd into the hut, filling it so completely that a view of the interior displays nothing but a confused mass of human limbs. The reader will perceive that the luxury of a door has not been contemplated by the native architects—an omission which is perhaps rather fortunate, considering the crowded state of the interior.

Along the shores of the Coorung a rather peculiar kind of habitation is used. It must first be mentioned that the Coorung is a back-water inlet of the sea, running parallel to it for some ninety miles or so, never more than a mile and a half from the sea, and divided from it only by a range of enormous sandhills. It is a wild and desolate place, but is inhabited by the Milmendura tribe, who made themselves so notorious for the massacre of the passengers and men of the ship Maria. The natives probably like the spot, because in the Coorung, which is protected from the ocean waves by the sandhills, they can take fish without danger, and because the sandhills furnish a fruit called the monterry, or native apple, as, although a berry growing upon a creeping plant, it looks and tastes like a miniature apple.

The situation is much exposed in the winter time to the cold south-west blasts, and the natives accordingly make comparatively strong huts. Their dwellings are formed of a framework of sticks, over which is plastered a thick layer of turf and mud. In addition to this they heap over the hut a great quantity of the sand and shells of which the ground is chiefly composed, so that the houses of the Milmendura look like mere mounds or hillocks rising from the sandy soil.

The fire which is found in every Australian encampment is generally procured by friction from two pieces of wood, one being twirled rapidly between the hands and the other held firmly by the feet. Indeed, the Australian savage produces fire exactly as does the South African (see page 100). This accomplishment, however, is not universal, some tribes being unable to produce fire, and being dependent on the “fire-sticks” which the women carry with them. It has occasionally happened that the women have been careless enough to allow all their fire-sticks to expire, and in such a case they are obliged to go to the nearest friendly tribe, and beg a light from them, in order to procure fire wherewith to cook the game that their husbands have brought home.

Before leaving this part of the subject, it will be as well to mention briefly a few of the devices used by the Australian natives in taking their game.

One of these devices is remarkably ingenious, and is principally employed in duck catching. The natives find out a spot where the ducks resort in order to feed, and arrange their nets so that they may intercept birds that fly down upon them. When the ducks are all busy feeding, the native hunter, who has concealed himself near the place, alarms the birds by suddenly imitating the cry of the fish-hawk, one of their deadliest foes. The terrified ducks rise in a body; but, just as they ascend, the wily native flings into the air a triangular piece of bark, imitating again the cry of the hawk. The birds, fancying that the hawk is sweeping down upon them, try to escape by darting into the reeds, and are caught in the nets.

Another ingenious plan is used for capturing birds singly. The native makes a sort of screen of branches, and conceals himself within it. In his hand he carries a long and slender rod, at the end of which there is a noose, and within the noose a bait. Under cover of the screen he comes close to the bird, and gently places the treacherous noose near it. By degrees the bird comes closer and closer to the bait, and, as soon as its head is fairly within the noose, it is secured by a dexterous twist of the hand. Sometimes the native does not employ a bait. He builds his simple shelter by some spot where birds are accustomed to drink, and calls them by imitating their note. They come to the spot, and, not seeing their companions, perch upon the sticks under which the hunter is concealed, a large bunch of grass being generally used to prevent the birds from seeing him. As soon as the bird perches, he slips the noose over its head, draws it inside the shelter, kills it, and waits for another.

In some parts of the country the natives make a self-acting snare, very much on the principle of the nets used in snaring rabbits. It consists of a sort of bag, and has its opening encircled by a running string, the other end of which is fastened to some fixed object, such as a tree-stump. The bag is made of split rattans, so that it remains open, and, as the meshes are very wide, the bait which is placed within it can easily be seen.

(1.) WINTER HUTS.
(See [page 786].)

(2.) A SUMMER ENCAMPMENT.
(See [page 784].)

If a bird or animal should come to the bait, which is fixed at the very extremity of the bag, it naturally forces its way toward the tempting object, and in so doing pulls upon the string and closes the mouth of the bag behind it. The more it struggles, the firmer is it held; and so it remains until it is taken out, and the trap set again. This very ingenious snare is used mostly for bandicoots and similar animals, though birds are sometimes caught in it.

The natives have another self-acting trap, which is identical in principle with the eel baskets and lobster pots of our own country. A number of these traps were found by Mr. Carron in some huts near Princess Charlotte’s Bay. They were made of strips of cane, and were about five feet in length by eight or nine inches in diameter at the mouth. From the opening they gradually tapered for some four feet, and then suddenly enlarged into a large round basket or pocket, the lower ends of the neck projecting into the basket so as to hinder any animal from returning through the passage by which it entered. This trap was used indifferently for catching fish and small animals. For the latter purpose it was laid in their track, and for the former it was placed in a narrow channel, through which the fish were forced to pass by being driven by a party of natives in the water.

The reader will remember that on [page 785] there is a reference to the “stringy-bark,” and its use in architecture. The same bark is used for a great number of purposes, among which that of boat-building is perhaps the most conspicuous. Should a native come to the side of a river which he does not wish to swim, he supplies himself with a boat in a very expeditious manner. Going to the nearest stringy-bark trees, and choosing one which has the lines of the bark straight and not gnarled, he chops a circle round the tree so as to sever the bark, and about seven or eight feet higher he chops a second circle. His next proceeding is to make a longitudinal cut down one side of the tree, and a corresponding one on the other side. He then inserts the handle of his tomahawk, his digging-stick, or any such implement, between the bark and the wood, and, by judicious handling, strips off the bark in two semi-cylindrical, trough-like pieces each of which is capable of being made into a boat.

Should he be alone, he seldom troubles himself to do more than tie the bark together at each end of the trough, and in this frail vessel he will commit himself to the river. But if his wife, or any second person, should be with him, he makes the simple boat more trustworthy by digging a quantity of clay out of the river bank, kneading it into each end of the trough, and tying the bark over the clay. As soon as he reaches the opposite shore, he lands, pushes the canoe back into the river and abandons it, knowing that to make a second canoe will not be nearly so troublesome as to take care of the first.

If, however, he wants a canoe in which he goes fishing, and which, in consequence, must be of a stronger make, he still adheres to the stringy bark as his material, though he takes more care in the manufacture. The bark is bent, like the birch bark of the North American Indians, by moisture and heat; and even with this better kind of boat clay is required at each end, and is also used for stopping up any leakage.

He also exhibits a still better use of the stringy-bark. The bark is not only formed into a boat-like shape, but it is kept in its form by cross-pieces of wood. The edges are also strengthened: and altogether this canoe shows a wonderful advance in boat-building. The vessel is propelled with a regular paddle instead of the fish spear: and altogether the boat and the accompanying implements remind the observer of the birch-bark canoes and vessels of America.

Another simple form of boat is made on a totally different principle from those which have already been described, and, instead of being a hollow trough of bark, is a solid bundle of reeds and sticks tied together in a very ingenious manner, and giving support to one or more persons, according to its size.

Such is the history of the aboriginal tribes of Australia, whose remarkable manners and customs are fast disappearing, together with the natives themselves. The poor creatures are aware of the fact, and seem to have lost all pleasure in the games and dances that formerly enlivened their existence. Many of the tribes are altogether extinct, and others are disappearing so fast that the people have lost all heart and spirit, and succumb almost without complaint to the fate which awaits them. In one tribe, for example, the Barrabool, which numbered upward of three hundred, the births during seventeen years were only twenty-four, being scarcely two births in three years; while the deaths had been between eighteen and nineteen per annum.

Mr. Lloyd gives a touching account of the survivors of this once flourishing tribe:—

“When I first landed in Geelong, in 1837, the Barrabool tribe numbered upward of three hundred sleek and healthy-looking blacks. A few months previous to my leaving that town, in May 1853, on casually strolling up to a couple of miam-miams, or native huts, that were erected upon the banks of the Burwan River, I observed seated there nine loobras (women) and one sickly child.

“Seeing so few natives, I was induced to ask after numbers of my old dark friends of early days—Ballyyang, the chief of the Barrabool tribe, the great Jaga-jaga, Panigerong, and many others, when I received the following pathetic reply: ‘Aha, Mitter Looyed, Ballyyang dedac (dead), Jaga-jaga dedac; Panigerong dedac,’ &c., naming many others; and, continuing their sorrowful tale, they chanted, in minor and funereal tones, in their own soft language, to the following effect:

“‘The stranger white man came in his great swimming corong (vessel), and landed at Corayio with his dedabul boulganas (large animals), and his anaki boulganas (little animals). He came with his boom-booms (double guns), his white miam-miams (tents), blankets, and tomahawks; and the dedabul ummageet (great white stranger) took away the long-inherited hunting-grounds of the poor Barrabool coolies and their children,’ &c., &c.

“Having worked themselves into a fit of passionate and excited grief, weeping, shaking their heads, and holding up their hands in bitter sorrow, they exclaimed, in wild and frenzied tones: ‘Coolie! coolie! coolie! where are our coolies now! Where are our fathers—mothers—brothers—sisters? Dead!—all gone! dead!’ Then, in broken English, they said, ‘Nebber mind, Mitter Looyed, tir; by ’m by all dem black fella come back white fella like it you.’ Such is the belief of the poor aborigines of Victoria; hence we may firmly infer that they possess a latent spark of hope in their minds as to another and better world.

“Then, with outstretched finger, they showed me the unhappy state of the aboriginal population. From their statement it appeared that there existed of the tribe at that moment only nine women, seven men, and one child. Their rapid diminution in numbers may be traced to a variety of causes. First, the chances of obtaining their natural food were considerably lessened by the entire occupation of the best grassed parts of the country, which originally abounded in kangaroo and other animals upon which they subsisted. The greater number of these valuable creatures, as an irresistible consequence, retired into the wild uninhabitable countries, far from the haunts of the white man and his destructive dogs.

“Having refused the aid of the Government and the Missionary Societies’ establishments at the River Burwan and Mount Rouse, the natives were to a serious extent deprived of animal food, so essential to a people who were ever exposed to the inclemencies of winter and the exhausting heats of summer. Influenza was one of the greatest scourges under which they suffered. Then, among other evils attending their association with the colonists, the brandy, rum, and tobacco told fearfully upon their already weakened constitutions.”

This one tribe is but an example of the others, all of whom are surely, and some not slowly, approaching the end of their existence. For many reasons we cannot but regret that entire races of men, possessing many fine qualities, should be thus passing away; but it is impossible not to perceive that they are but following the order of the world, the lower race preparing a home for the higher.

In the present instance, for example, the aborigines performed barely half of their duties as men. They partially exercised their dominion over the beasts and the birds—killing, but not otherwise utilizing them. But, although they inherited the earth, they did not subdue it, nor replenish it. They cleared away no useless bush or forest, to replace them with fruits; and they tilled no land, leaving the earth exactly in the same condition that they found it. Living almost entirely by the chase, it required a very large hunting-ground to support each man, and a single tribe gained a scanty and precarious living on a tract of land sufficient, when cultivated, to feed a thousand times their number. In fact, they occupied precisely the same relative position toward the human race as do the lion, tiger, and leopard toward the lower animals, and suffered in consequence from the same law of extinction.

In process of time white men came to introduce new arts into their country, clearing away useless forest, and covering the rescued earth with luxuriant wheat crops, sufficient to feed the whole of the aborigines of the country; bringing also with them herds of sheep and horned cattle to feed upon the vast plains which formerly nourished but a few kangaroo, and to multiply in such numbers that they not only supplied the whole of their adopted land with food, but their flesh was exported to the mother country.

The superior knowledge of the white man thus gave to the aborigines the means of securing their supplies of food; and therefore his advent was not a curse, but a benefit to them. But they could not take advantage of the opportunities thus offered to them, and, instead of seizing upon these new means of procuring the three great necessaries of human life, food, clothing, and lodging, they not only refused to employ them, but did their best to drive them out of the country, murdering the colonists, killing their cattle, destroying their crops, and burning their houses.

The means were offered to them of infinitely bettering their social condition, and the opportunity given them, by substituting peaceful labor for perpetual feuds, and of turning professional murderers into food-producers, of replenishing the land which their everlasting quarrels, irregular mode of existence, and carelessness of human life had well-nigh depopulated. These means they could not appreciate, and, as a natural consequence, had to make way for those who could. The inferior must always make way for the superior, and such has ever been the case with the savage. I am persuaded that the coming of the white man is not the sole, nor even the chief, cause of the decadence of savage tribes. I have already shown that we can introduce no vice in which the savage is not profoundly versed, and feel sure that the cause of extinction lies within the savage himself, and ought not to be attributed to the white man, who comes to take the place which the savage has practically vacated.

CHAPTER LXXVIII.
NEW ZEALAND.
GENERAL REMARKS.

LOCALITY OF NEW ZEALAND — GENERAL APPEARANCE OF THE PEOPLE — THE TWO CASTES, AND THEIR SUPPOSED ORIGIN — CONTRAST BETWEEN THE SEXES — LAXNESS OF MORALS — NUMBER OF THE POPULATION, AND THE DIFFERENT TRIBES — MODE OF GOVERNMENT — DISTINCTION BETWEEN RANKS — FORMATION OF THE CLANS, OR SUB-TRIBES — THE SLAVES, THEIR VALUE AND TREATMENT — THE TENURE OF LAND — A COMPLEX ARRANGEMENT AND CONSEQUENT DIFFICULTIES — ESTABLISHING A CLAIM — NATIVE LAW — THE “LEX TALIONIS” — SENSITIVENESS TO DISGRACE — THE PREVALENCE OF SUICIDE — STRANGE CONDUCT OF A MAORI CHIEF — THE SISTER’S VENGEANCE.

Southward and eastward of Australia we come to the group of islands known collectively as New Zealand. Like Australia, New Zealand possesses many peculiarities of climate and natural production, and is inhabited by a number of tribes which are generally hostile to each other, but which are almost identical in appearance and habits. We shall therefore be enabled to treat of this important portion of the globe with much more brevity than could be the case if, as in Africa, the tribes differed from each other in hue, dress, and customs.

Taken as a whole, the New Zealanders are a singularly fine race of people—tall, powerful, and well made. Though varying somewhat in shade, the color is always a brown of some kind, the complexion being sometimes as light as that of a Spaniard, and sometimes of a dark umber. It is, however, always of a clear tint and never approaches to the deep black of the Australian. The nose is straight and well formed, in many cases being boldly aquiline; and the mouth is rather large, and the lips moderately full, though not resembling those of the negro. The cheekbones are rather high, but not much more prominent than those of a genuine Scotchman; and the eyes are large, dark, and vivacious.

The teeth are remarkably white and even, and the feet and hands small and well proportioned. The foot is very well developed, the native never having spoiled its beautiful mechanism with shoes or boots, and being accustomed to use the toes in many tasks wherein a civilized European requires his fingers. The toes are, for example, continually employed in holding one end of a rope, while the fingers are engaged in twisting or plaiting it; and the consequence is that the natives are able to ridicule with justice the misshapen feet and toes of the European.

The men have naturally a full beard; but they always remove every vestige of hair on the face, in order to show the patterns which are tattooed upon it. Now and then a very old and powerful chief will dare to allow his beard to grow; but, as a rule, the face is divested of all covering: so that the absence of the beard, together with the profuse tattoo, destroys all evidences of age, and makes the countenance of a young man of twenty look nearly as old as that of his grandfather aged sixty.

The hair is plentiful, and mostly straight, being twisted and curled by art into the various fashionable forms. In some cases it is light, or even reddish, in color; and in such instances accompanies a complexion of peculiar fairness. Albinism exists among the New Zealanders, but is not agreeable in appearance, the eyes being always weak, and the skin looking as if it had been artificially whitened. In fact, such an albino looks among his dark fellows like a plant that has been bleached by growing in the dark.

There seems to be two castes of men among the New Zealanders. The upper caste is distinguished by the above characteristics; but the lower is shorter in stature, and has coarse and curly, though not woolly hair, more prominent cheekbones, and a much blacker skin. This second race, according to Dr. Dieffenbach, “is mixed in insensible gradations with the former, and is far less numerous; it does not predominate in any one part of the island, nor does it occupy any particular station in a tribe; and there is no difference made between the two races among themselves.

NEW ZEALANDER FROM CHILDHOOD TO AGE.
(See [page 795].)

“But I must observe that I never met any man of consequence belonging to this tribe, and that, although freemen, they occupied the lower grades: from this we may, perhaps, infer the relation in which they stood to the earliest immigrants into the country, although their traditions and legends are silent on the subject.

“From the existence of two races in New Zealand the conclusion might be drawn that the darker were the original proprietors of the soil, anterior to the arrival of a stock of true Polynesian origin; that they were conquered by the latter, and nearly exterminated. This opinion has been entertained regarding all Polynesian islands; but I must observe that it is very doubtful whether those differences which we observe among the natives of New Zealand are really due to such a source. We find similar varieties in all Polynesian islands, and it is probable that they are a consequence of the difference of castes so extensively spread among the inhabitants of the tribes of the great ocean.

“If one part of the population of New Zealand are a distinct race—a fact which cannot be denied as regards other islands—it is very curious that there should be no traces of such a blending in the language, where they would have been most durable, or in the traditions, which certainly would have mentioned the conquest of one race by the other, if it had happened. Captain Crozet, a Frenchman, who early visited New Zealand, says that he found a tribe at the North Cape darker than the rest. I could observe nothing of the kind there, though I visited all the natives. Nor are those darker-colored individuals more common in the interior; I should say, even less so.

“There is undoubtedly a greater variety of color and countenance among the natives of New Zealand than one would expect—a circumstance which might prove either an early blending of different races, or a difference of social conditions, which latter supposition would go far to explain the fact. All the New Zealanders speak of the Mango-Mango, or Blacks of New South Wales, as unconnected with and inferior to themselves; but they never make such a distinction regarding their own tribes.”

As is often the case with uncivilized people, the women are decidedly inferior to the men, being much shorter, and not nearly so well made. They are not treated with the harshness which is the usual characteristic of married life among savages, and are even taken into their husbands’ counsels, and have great influence in political affairs. Still, the heavy work of the household falls upon their shoulders, and the lot of an ordinary New Zealand wife is rather a severe one. She has to cultivate the ground, to carry the produce of the distant fields to the house, and, when the family is travelling, the women have to carry all the heavy loads. It is no wonder, therefore, that a life of such drudgery should tell upon the women, both in preventing the proper development of their frame and in causing their beauty to decay. Those who preserve their beauty longest are the daughters of wealthy chiefs, who can afford slaves by whom all the hard work is done, and who therefore free their mistresses from one of the causes of deterioration.

There is, however, another cause, which is perhaps equally effective, but not so palpable. This is the very lax code of morality which prevails among them, a young girl being permitted the utmost freedom until she is married, although afterward she is a model of constancy. This license is exercised at a very early age, and the natural consequence is that the due development of the frame is checked. This vicious system is so much a matter of course, that it carries no reproach with it, and the young girls are remarkable for their modest and childlike demeanor.

Of course they become aged much earlier than those whose development takes place at a later period of life; but they compensate for their deteriorated appearance by their peculiar kindliness of demeanor. The [engraving No. 1], illustrates the countenance and dress of a New Zealand woman and her boy.

Unlike the men, the women do not disfigure their faces by the tattoo, which gives to them the stern and fixed expression so characteristic of a New Zealand warrior; and they thus allow the really flexible and intelligent features to have full play. The only portions of the face that are marked with the tattoo are the lips, which are rendered blue by the process, as it is considered disgraceful for a woman to have red lips. The tattooing is always performed when the child is allowed to take her place among women; and, as may be imagined, it gives a livid and altogether unpleasant appearance to the mouth.

The children are very pleasing and interesting little creatures. They are full of intelligence, and unusually free and open in their manner. Unlike the children of most savage nations, they live as much with the men as with the women, and partake even in the councils of their parents, thus having their faculties sharpened at a very early age. The [illustration] opposite gives typical examples of the New Zealander from childhood to age, and the reader will notice the contrast between the soft and rounded outlines of the youth, and the harsh, rigid countenances of the old man and his consort.

In proportion to the dimensions of New Zealand, the population is very small; and, even in the earliest days of our acquaintance with it, the land seems to have been but thinly inhabited. That such should be the case is very remarkable, as a very thin population is generally found in those countries where, as in Australia, the inhabitants live principally by the chase, and therefore require a very large tract of land to support them. The New Zealanders, however, do not live by the chase, for the simple reason that there are no animals which are worth the trouble of hunting; so that a family of twenty or so, even if they had the entire country as a hunting-ground, would find themselves in very great straits were they obliged to procure their food by the chase. The reasons for this thin population will be presently seen.

According to Dieffenbach’s calculation, the native population of the entire country may be reckoned rather below one hundred and fifteen thousand. These are divided into twelve great tribes, which are again subdivided into sub-tribes, or clans, each of which has its separate name, and is supposed to belong to a certain district. The fighting men, or warriors, form about one-fourth of the whole population; the remaining three-fourths being made up of old men, women, and children. Since this calculation the numbers of the aborigines have considerably lessened. The most important of the tribes seems to be the Waikato, which is divided into eighteen clans, and which occupies a very large proportion of the country. This tribe alone can bring into the field six thousand fighting men; so that the entire number of the tribe may be calculated at twenty-four thousand or so.

The Waikato clans have managed to preserve their individuality better than the others, and, though brought much in contact with civilization, and having adopted some of the habits of their white visitors, they have still retained many of their ancient customs, and, as Dieffenbach remarks, have preserved much of their ancient vigor and original virtues.

The tribe that is strongest in mere numbers is the Nga-te-kahuhuna, which inhabits the east coast, and may be reckoned at thirty-six thousand strong. In fact, these two tribes alone outnumber the whole of the others taken collectively. One tribe, the Rangitani, is interesting from the fact that it was described by Captain Cook. In his days it was evidently a large and flourishing tribe, but some few years ago it could scarcely muster three hundred warriors, representing a total number of twelve hundred. The decadence of this tribe is probably owing to the destructive wars in which the New Zealanders engage, and which are often so fierce as to erase a tribe entirely.

The government of the New Zealanders is a curious mixture of simplicity and complication. Monarchy is unknown, each tribe having its own great chief, while an inferior chief presides over each clan, or sub-tribe. The whole of the population may be roughly divided into three ranks. First come the nobility, then the free men, and lastly the slaves. The nobility go by the general name of Rangatira—a title which is always given to officers, missionaries, and other white men who are placed in command over others.

In each tribe one of the Rangatira is the Ariki, or principal chief; but, as he is necessarily a Rangatira, he is always addressed by that title, and, in consequence, a stranger finds some difficulty, even after a prolonged visit, in ascertaining who is the Ariki. Among the New Zealanders there is no Salic law, so that the Ariki need not be a warrior, and may be a woman. The office is hereditary, and the existing Ariki is always held in the highest veneration in virtue of his descent. Even the hostile tribes respect an Ariki, and in most cases, if he should be captured in battle, the victors will spare his life. One or two of the most powerful chiefs living have been captured and afterward released, whereas, had they been common men, or even ordinary Rangatiras, they would have been killed, their bodies eaten, and their heads dried and fixed as trophies on the houses of their conquerors.

A sort of tax, or tribute, is paid by the different families, though the tax is entirely a voluntary one, and may be great or small, or withheld altogether, at pleasure. Mostly the Ariki is a man of considerable mental powers, and, in such a case, he exercises great authority over the tribe, either as a priest or a warrior. There is nothing to prevent the Ariki from assuming the office of priest, and in many instances he has been able to exercise a far greater influence by spiritual than by physical means.

The Rangatira are the great men, or nobles, of the land, and with them, as with the Ariki, the rank is hereditary. The law of succession is very remarkable, the eldest son being the heir to his father’s rank; but if the child dies, the youngest, and not the next eldest, becomes the lawful successor. These two heirs, the eldest and the youngest sons, are called by a name which signifies the fat of the earth.

Each Rangatira is independent of his fellows, though they collectively form a sort of body which we may compare with the House of Peers in England. Any Rangatira who has sufficient influence may gather together the members of his clan, build a fortified village, or pah, and become a petty sovereign in his own dominions. It is in this way that the various clans, or sub-tribes, are formed, each gathering round a noble of more than usual ability, and adopting a name by which the members will ever afterward be known.

The free men form the great body of the warriors; some of them being the sons of Rangatira, and others merely having the privilege of free birth; which carries with it the right of tattooing the face. Sometimes a free man who is remarkable for his generalship and courage will take the command of an expedition, even though men of higher rank than himself should be engaged in it.

Last come the slaves. These are always procured from two sources: they are either captives taken in battle, or are the children of such captives. The value of such slaves is very great. All savages are idle, but the New Zealander is one of the laziest of mortals in time of peace. In war he is all fire and spirit; but in peace he lounges listlessly about, and will not do a stroke of work that can possibly be avoided.

He may, perhaps, condescend to carve the posts of his house into some fantastical semblance of the human form, or he may, perchance, employ himself in slowly rubbing a stone club into shape, or in polishing or adorning his weapons. Whatever real work is to be done is left to the women or the slaves, and a man who values his wife or daughter will endeavor to procure slaves who will relieve her of the drudgery.

There are slaves of both sexes, to whom the appropriate work is allotted. They are considered the absolute property of their owner, who may treat them as he pleases, and, if he prefers to kill them, may do so without attracting any attention. Of course he would not do so except for very good reasons, as he would deprive himself of a valuable article of property. There have been cases, as we shall presently see, when the owner of slaves has deliberately murdered them for the sake of selling their heads.

Once a slave, always a slave. Should one of these unfortunates manage to escape and get back to his own tribe, his owner would apply for him, and he would be given up, the right of the master to his slave being universally recognized. Still, as a rule, the slaves are treated well, and some of them, who have attained excellence in certain arts, often become richer men than their owners. So great is the value of slaves, that many a war has been undertaken for the mere purpose of slave hunting, and some of the most disastrous and obstinate feuds have originated in the slave hunt.

Connected with the government of the New Zealanders is the land question. This is a strangely complicated business, as every inch of ground has an actual owner, while there are usually several claimants who allow their rights, real or imagined, to lie in abeyance as long as the land is owned by one who can hold his own, while they will all prefer their claims at his death, or even during a lengthened absence.

So it has often happened that the white men, while desiring to act according to law and honor, have involved themselves in a very net of difficulties. A chief, for example, may agree to sell a portion of territory, will receive the price, and will sign a deed, which will be witnessed by natives as well as by Europeans. No sooner has he done so, than a claimant comes forward, declaring that the chief in question had no real right to the land, and therefore had no right to sell it.

His claim will be inquired into, and, if it seems to be tolerably consistent with likelihood, the man will be paid an additional sum for his consent to the sale. The matter, however, is not at an end, for such is the jealousy with which the natives regard land, that, as long as a foreigner holds an inch of ground, so long will there be a native who prefers a claim to it. Strange as it may seem, the white man would incur less odium by taking the land by force, and seizing it by right of conquest, than by trying to act according to justice and equity.

War is a fertile source of misunderstanding about land. A tribe may be driven out of a district, and their land given to others, who hold it as long as they can keep it, the original possessors being sure to reconquer it if possible. It has sometimes happened that a chief to whom such lands have been presented has transferred them to another chief, and he, in his turn, has sold them to European settlers, the bargain being ratified by his own followers, who are considered as having a share in such property.

The colonists take the land, clear it, cultivate it, and when the crops are fairly in the ground, the dispossessed tribe will come forward and prefer their claim to it. Those to whom it was sold have already received their price, and do not trouble themselves to oppose the claim; and the consequence is, that the colonists are obliged either to make a second payment or to run the risk of war.

As to the claims themselves, they are of the most curious and unexpected character, such as no European would be likely to anticipate. According to Dieffenbach, “There exists a very distinct notion of the rights of landed property among the natives, and every inch of land in New Zealand has its proprietor. Sometimes land is given to a strange tribe, either as pay, or from other considerations, but the proprietor reserves certain rights, some of which are what we should term manorial.

“It was formerly very common that the fat of the native rats (Kiore) killed on such lands should be given to the principal proprietor, and in many cases a title to land seems to have been derived from the fact of having killed rats on it. Thus a chief will say, ‘This or that piece of land is mine; I have killed rats on it.’ Generally, however, land descends, as with us, by inheritance.”

Such being the complicated tenure on which land is held—a tenure which is often puzzling to the natives themselves—it is no matter of wonder that English settlers should have found themselves in difficulties. It is said that the colonists tried to make themselves masters of the land by unfair means, i. e. either by forcibly taking possession of it, or by inveigling the ignorant natives into signing documents which they did not understand, and thus selling their paternal estates for rum, tobacco, and a few blankets.

This may to some extent have been the case when the colonists first came to settle in the country. But the natives are far too intelligent to remain long ignorant of the power of pen, ink, and paper, and there is no doubt that in many cases they intentionally outwitted the purchaser, either by putting forward a sham owner of the ground, who had no right to sell it, and who vanished with his share of the prize as soon as the bargain was concluded, or by asserting ignorance of the meaning of the document which had been signed, and refusing to carry out its conditions. That the white men succeeded too often in cheating the natives is unfortunately true, but it is no less true that the natives as often cheated the colonists.

Law among the New Zealanders seems to be of the simplest kind, and, as far as we know, is not so well developed as among some of the tribes of Southern Africa. The three offences of which the law takes cognizance are murder, theft, and adultery. For the first of these offences a sort of lex talionis holds good, the relatives of the slain man being sure, sooner or later, to kill the murderer, unless he manages to compromise with them. Even theft is punished in a similar fashion, the thief being robbed in his turn.

As to the third offence, it is punishable in various ways; but both the offending parties are supposed to have forfeited their lives to the husband. If, therefore, the fact be discovered, and the culprit be a person of low rank, he seeks safety in flight, while, if he be a man of rank, he expects that the offended husband will make war upon him. Sometimes, if a wife discovers that her husband has been unfaithful to her, she will kill his paramour, or, at all events, disgrace her after the native custom, by stripping off all her clothes, and exposing her in public. Even the husband is sometimes subjected to this punishment by the wife’s relations; and so much dreaded is this disgrace that men have been known to commit suicide when their offence has been discovered.

Suicide, by the way, is not at all uncommon among the New Zealanders, who always think that death is better than disgrace, and sometimes destroy themselves under the most trivial provocation. One such case is mentioned by Mr. Angas. “On arriving at the village or kainga of Ko Nghahokowitu, we found all the natives in a state of extraordinary excitement. We had observed numbers of people running in that direction, along the margin of the river, from the different plantations, and, on inquiry, we learned that an hour previously to our arrival the son of an influential chief had committed suicide by shooting himself with a musket.

“Our fellow-travellers, with Wisihona their chief, were all assembled, and we followed them to the shed where the act had been perpetrated, and where the body still lay as it fell, but covered with a blanket. The mourners were gathered round, and the women commenced crying most dolefully, wringing their hands, and bending their bodies to the earth. We approached the body, and were permitted to remove the blanket from the face and breast. The countenance was perfectly placid, and the yellow tint of the skin, combined with the tattooing, gave the corpse almost the appearance of a wax model. The deceased was a fine and well-made young man. He had placed the musket to his breast, and deliberately pushed the trigger with his toes, the bullet passing right through his lungs. Blood was still oozing from the orifice made by the bullet, and also from the mouth, and the body was still warm.”

The cause of this suicide was that which has already been mentioned. The young man had been detected in an illicit correspondence with the wife of another man in the same village. The woman had been sent away to a distant settlement, a proceeding which had already made her lover sullen and gloomy; and, on the day when Mr. Angas visited the place, he had become so angry at the reproaches which were levelled at him by some of his relations, that he stepped aside and shot himself.

The determined manner in which the New Zealanders will sometimes commit suicide was exemplified by the conduct of another man, who deliberately wrapped himself up in his blanket, and strangled himself with his own hands. The crime was perpetrated in the common sleeping-house, and was achieved with so much boldness that it was not discovered until the man had been dead for some time.

A remarkable instance of this phase of New Zealand law took place when Mr. Dieffenbach visited the Waipa district. He was accompanied by a chief, who called a girl to him, and handed her over to the police magistrate as a murderess. The fact was, that her brother, a married man, had formed an intimacy with a slave girl, and, fearing the vengeance of his wife’s relatives, had killed himself. His sister, in order to avenge the death of her brother, found out the slave girl in the bush, and killed her. The strangest part of the business was, that the accused girl was the daughter of the chief who denounced her.

The girl pleaded her own cause well, saying, what was perfectly true, that she had acted according to the law of the land in avenging the death of her brother, and was not amenable to the laws of the white man, which had not yet been introduced into her country. As might be imagined, her plea was received, and the girl was set at liberty; but her father was so earnest in his wish to check the system of retaliatory murder, that he actually offered himself in the place of his daughter, as being her nearest relation.

CHAPTER LXXIX.
NEW ZEALAND—Continued.
DRESS.

DRESS AND ORNAMENTS OF THE NEW ZEALANDER — THE TATTOO OR THE MOKO — ITS FORMIDABLE CHARACTER — THE TATTOO A MARK OF FREEDOM — THE TATTOO OF THE FACE, AND ITS DIFFERENT PORTIONS — COST OF THE OPERATION — THE IMPLEMENTS, AND MODE OF USING THEM — TIME OCCUPIED IN COMPLETING IT — PAYMENT OF THE OPERATOR, AND THE TATTOO SONG — SOURCE WHENCE THE PIGMENT IS OBTAINED — SCARLET PAINT, AND MODE OF MAKING IT — THE NEW ZEALAND BELT — SYMBOLISM OF THE TATTOO — PRESERVING THE HEADS OF WARRIORS — THE TRAFFIC IN HEADS — A COOL BARGAINER.

We will now proceed to the appearance and dress of the natives of New Zealand, or Maories, as they term themselves. As the most conspicuous part of the New Zealander’s adornment is the tattooing with which the face and some other portions of the body are decorated, we will begin our account with a description of the moko, as it is called by the natives.

There are many parts of the world where the tattoo is employed, but in none is it of so formidable a description as among the New Zealanders. As the reader is probably aware, the tattoo consists of patterns made by introducing certain coloring matters under the skin; charcoal, variously prepared, being the usual material for the purpose. We have already seen among the Kaffirs examples of ornamenting the skin by cutting it deeply so as to form scars, and in Australia a similar but more cruel custom prevails. In neither of these countries, however, is there any attempt at producing an artistic effect, while in New Zealand beauty of design is the very object of the tattoo.

There is a distinction between the tattoo of the New Zealanders and the Polynesians; that of the latter people being formed by rows of little dots, and that of the former by lines cut completely through the skin. On account of this distinction, though a New Zealander and a Polynesian be covered from head to foot with tattoo marks, there is no possibility of mistaking the one for the other.

The moko of the New Zealander is a mark of rank, none but slaves being without a more or less complete tattooing of the face. In the present day, even the chiefs have begun to discontinue the ancient custom, chiefly owing to the exertions of the missionaries, who objected to the practice as a mark of heathendom. Consequently, several of the most powerful convert chiefs present a very curious, not to say ludicrous, aspect, which can hardly have a good effect in recommending Christianity to the people. Having been converted before the moko was completed, and being unwilling to continue the process and unable to obliterate those portions which were already drawn, they appear with one half of their faces tattooed and the other half plain, or perhaps with a solitary ring round one eye, and a couple of curves round one side of the mouth.

As, however, the present work treats only of the native customs, and not of modern civilization, the New Zealanders will be described as they were before they had learned to abandon the once-prized tattoo, to exchange the native mat for the English blanket, the picturesque war canoe for the commonplace whaling boat, and the spear and club for the rifle and bayonet.

The principal tattoo is that of the face and upper part of the head, which, when completed, leaves scarcely an untouched spot on which the finger can be placed. When finished, the whole face is covered with spiral scrolls, circles, and curved lines; and it is remarkable, that though a certain order is observed, and the position of the principal marks is the same in every case, no two persons are tattooed in precisely the same manner, the artists being able to produce an infinite variety with the few materials at his command.

For example, the first portion of the tattoo is always a series of curved lines, reaching from the corners of the nose to the chin, and passing round the mouth. This portion of the tattoo goes by the name of rerepi. Next comes a spiral scroll on the cheekbone; and below it is another spiral, reaching as low as the jaw-bone. These are called respectively kakoti and korohaha. Next come four lines on the middle of the forehead, called titi; and besides these there are several lines which run up the centre of the nose and cover its sides, some which spread over the forehead, others which occupy the chin; and even the lips, eyelids, and ears are adorned with this singular ornament.

Besides possessing these marks, a great chief is seldom content unless he can cover his hips with similar lines, each of which has, like those of the face, its proper name.

Although the moko was considered as a mark of rank, there were no sumptuary laws which forbade its use. Any one, provided he were not a slave, might be tattooed as much as he pleased; but the expense of the operation was so great, that none but men of position could afford a complete suit of moko. No man could tattoo himself, and the delicacy of touch and certainty of line was so difficult of attainment, that tattooing became an art or science, which was left in the hands of a few practitioners, who derived a good income from their business. Some of those who had attained much reputation for their skill used to command very high fees when called in to decorate a client, and their services could therefore only be secured by the men of high position. It is rather remarkable that some of the most celebrated operators were slaves, men who were forbidden to wear the tattoo on their own persons.

The mode of operation is as follows. The patient lies on his back, and places his head between the knees of the operator, who squats on the ground after the usual native fashion. The latter then takes a little of the black pigment, and draws on the face the line of the pattern which he intends to follow; and in some cases he slightly scratches them with a sharp instrument, so as to make a sketch or outline drawing. The object of this scratching is to prevent the pattern from being obliterated by the flowing blood and the black pigment which is rubbed into the wounds.

Next, he takes his instrument or chisel, which is usually made of teeth, or the bone of a bird, and with it follows the pattern, cutting completely through the skin. Sometimes, when engaged in tattooing the face, a careless operator has been known to cut completely through the cheek, so as to put a temporary check to smoking, the sufferer experiencing some difficulty in getting the smoke into his mouth at all, and then finding it escape through the holes in his cheek. On page 722 the reader may find an illustration which gives a good idea of the different forms of the tattooing chisel. As the operator proceeds, he continually dips the edge of his chisel in the black pigment, and, when he has cut a line of a few inches in length, he rubs more of the pigment into the wound, using a little bunch of fibre by way of a brush or sponge.

The cutting is not done as with a knife, but by placing the edge of the chisel on the skin, and driving it along the lines of the pattern by repeated blows with a small mallet. As may be imagined, the pain caused by this operation is excruciating. It is painful enough to have the skin cut at all, even with the keenest blade, as any one can testify who has been unfortunate enough to come under the surgeon’s knife. But when the instrument employed is a shark’s tooth, or a piece of bone, when it is driven slowly through the skin by repeated blows, and when the wound is at once filled with an irritating pigment, it may be imagined that the torture must be dreadful. It is, however, reckoned a point of honor to endure it without giving any signs of suffering.

Owing to the character of the tattoo, the destruction of the skin, and the consequent derangement of its functions, only a small portion can be executed at a time, a complete moko taking from two to three years, according to the constitution of the individual. Dreadful swellings are always caused by it, especially of the glands in the neighborhood of the wounds, and the effects are so severe that men have died when too large a portion has been executed at one time.

Every stroke of the chisel or uki leaving an indelible mark, it is of the greatest consequence that the operator should be a man of skill, and devote all his energies to tracing a clear, though elaborate pattern, in which the lines are set closely together, sweep in regular curves, and never interfere with each other.

While a man is being tattooed, his friends and those of the operator sing songs to him, in which he is encouraged to endure the pain bravely, and to bear in mind the lasting beauty which will be conferred upon him when the pattern is completed. The songs of the operator’s friends contain some very broad hints as to the scale of payment which is expected. Although, as has been stated, the best of tattooers are paid very highly, there is no definite fee, neither is any bargain made, the operator trusting to the liberality of his client. But, as a man would be contemned as a skulking fellow if he were to ask the services of a good operator and then pay him badly, the practical result is that a good tattooer always secures good pay.

Moreover, he has always the opportunity of avenging himself. As only a small portion of the moko can be executed at a time—say, for example, the spiral curve on one cheek—if the operator be badly paid for the first portion of his work, he will take care to let the chisel slip out of its course when he proceeds to the second part, or will cut his lines coarsely and irregularly, thus disfiguring the stingy man for life.

Mr. Taylor gives a translation of one of these tattooing songs:

“He who pays well, let him be beautifully ornamented;

But he who forgets the operator, let him be done carelessly.

Be the lines wide apart.

O hiki Tangaroa!

O hiki Tangaroa!

Strike that the chisel as it cuts along may sound.

O hiki Tangaroa!

Men do not know the skill of the operator in driving his sounding chisel along.

O hiki Tangaroa!”

The reader will see that the song is a very ingenious one, magnifying the skill of the operator, promising a handsome moko to the liberal man, and threatening to disfigure him if he be niggardly in his payments.

While the operation of tattooing is going on, all persons in the pah, or enclosure, are under the tabu, or tapu, lest any harm should happen to them; the work of tattooing being looked upon with a kind of superstitious reverence. The meaning of the word ‘tapu’ will be explained when we come to treat of the religious system of the New Zealander.

The effect of the moko on the face is well shown in [illustration No. 2], on the next page, which represents a chief and his wife. The reader will probably observe that on the face of the woman there are marks which resemble the tattoo. They are, however, the scars left by mourning over the body of some relative, a ceremony in which the women cut themselves unmercifully. The dress worn by both persons will be presently described.

The pigment used in tattooing is made from the resin of the kauri pine, and the greater part of it is made at one spot, where the tree grows plentifully. There is a rocky precipice, and a little distance from its edge a deep and narrow pit is sunk. A channel is cut through the face of the cliff into the pit, and the apparatus is complete. When a native wishes to make a supply of tattooing pigment, he cuts a quantity of kauri wood, places it in the pit, and sets fire to it, thus causing the burnt resin to fall to the bottom of the pit, whence it is scraped out through the channel.

Scarlet paint is much employed by the natives, especially when they decorate themselves for battle. It is obtained from an ochreous substance which is deposited in many places where water has been allowed to become stagnant. Some spots are celebrated for the excellence of the ochre, and the natives come from great distances to procure it. When they wish to make their scarlet paint, they first carefully dry and then burn the ochre; the result of which operation is, that a really fine vermilion is obtained.

This paint is used for many purposes, and before being used it is mixed with oil obtained from the shark. The natives are fond of decorating their houses with it, and by means of the scarlet lines increase, according to their own ideas, the beauty of the carved work with which every available point is adorned. Even their household goods are painted after a similar manner, the fashionable mode being to paint all the hollows scarlet, and the projecting portions black. Their canoes and wooden ornaments are profusely adorned with red paint. But the most valued use of this pigment is the part which it plays in the decoration of a warrior when he goes to battle.

In such cases paint constitutes the whole of his costume, the mats in which he takes so great a pride in time of peace being laid aside, many warriors being perfectly naked, and with the others the only covering of any kind being a belt made of plaited leaves.

One of these belts in my collection is seven feet in length, and only three and a half inches wide in the broadest part; while at either end it diminishes to a mere plaited thong. It is folded fourfold, and on opening it the mode of construction is plainly seen; all the loose ends being tucked inside.

The material is phormium leaf cut into strips an inch in width, each alternate strip being dyed black. Each strip is then divided into eight little strips or thongs, and they are so plaited as to produce an artistic checkered pattern of black and white. The ingenuity in forming so elaborate a pattern with so simple a material is extreme; and, as if to add to the difficulty of his task, the dusky artist has entirely changed the pattern at either end of the belt, making it run at right angles to the rest of the fabric. The belt is also used in lieu of clothing when the men are engaged in paddling a canoe.

The paint, therefore, becomes the characteristic portion of the New Zealander’s war dress, and is applied for the purpose of making himself look as terrible as possible, and of striking terror into his enemies. It is, however, used in peace as well as in war, being regarded as a good preservative against the bites and stings of insects, especially the sandflies and mosquitoes. It is also used in mourning, being rubbed on the body as a sign of grief, precisely as ashes are used among some of the Oriental nations. Some travellers have thought that the continual use of this pigment gives to the New Zealanders the peculiar softness and sleekness of skin for which they are remarkable, and which distinguishes them from the Fijians, whose skin feels as if it had been roughened with a file. This theory, however, is scarcely tenable, the soft texture of the skin being evidently due to physical and not to external causes.

(1.) NEW ZEALAND WOMAN AND HER BOY.
(See [page 795].)

(2.) TATTOOED CHIEF AND HIS WIFE.
(See [page 802].)

A warrior adorned in all the pride of the tattoo and scarlet paint is certainly a terrific object, and is well calculated to strike terror into those who have been accustomed to regard the Maori warriors with awe. When, however, the natives found that all the painting in the world had no effect upon the disciplined soldiers of the foreigner, they abandoned it, and contented themselves with the weapons that none are more able to wield than themselves.

Moreover, the paint and tattoo, however well it might look on a warrior armed after the primitive fashion, has rather a ludicrous effect when contrasted with the weapons of civilization. There is now before me a portrait of a Maori chief in full battle array. Except a bunch of feathers in his hair, and a checked handkerchief tied round his loins, evidently at the request of the photographer, he has no dress whatever. He is tall, splendidly made, stern, and soldierlike of aspect. But instead of the club, his proper weapon, he bears in his hand a Belgian rifle, with fixed bayonet, and has a cartouche-box fastened by a belt round his naked body.

His face is tattooed, and so are his hips, which are covered with a most elaborate pattern, that contrasts boldly with his really fair skin. Had he his club and chief’s staff in his hands, he would look magnificent; having a rifle and a cartouche-box, he looks absurd. Even a sword would become him better than a rifle, for we are so accustomed to associate a rifle with a private soldier, that it is difficult to understand that a powerful chief would carry such a weapon.

The curious mixture of native and European dress which the Maories are fond of wearing is well described by Mr. Angas. “Raupahara’s wife is an exceedingly stout woman, and wears her hair, which is very stiff and wiry, combed up into an erect mass upon her head about a foot in height, somewhat after the fashion of the Tonga islanders, which, when combined with her size, gives her a remarkable appearance.

“She was well dressed in a flax mat of native manufacture, thickly ornamented with tufts of cotton wool; and one of her nieces wore silk stockings and slippers of patent leather. This gay damsel was, moreover, a very pretty girl, and knew how to set off her charms to advantage; for over an European dress she had retained her native ornaments, and had wrapped herself coquettishly in a beautiful, ‘kaitaka,’ displaying her large hazel eyes above its silky folds.”

It has often been thought that the warrior regarded his moko, or tattoo, as his name, permanently inscribed on his face; and this notion was strengthened by two facts: the one, that in the earlier times of the colonists the natives signed documents by appending a copy of their moko; and the other, that each man knows every line of his tattoo, and sometimes carves a wooden bust on which he copies with admirable fidelity every line which appears on his own head or face. Such a work of art is greatly valued by the Maories, and a man who has carved one of them can scarcely be induced by any bribe to part with it.

Moreover, the moko of a warrior is often accepted as the conventional representation of himself. For example, on the pillars of a very celebrated house, which we shall presently describe, are numerous human figures which represent certain great chiefs, while men of lesser mark are indicated by their moko carved on the posts. Thus it will be seen that the moko of a chief is as well known to others as to himself, and that the practised eye of the native discerns among the various curves and spirals, which are common to all free men, the characteristic lines which denote a man’s individuality, and in producing which the tattooers’ skill is often sorely tried.

It has already been mentioned, that when a warrior falls in battle, and his body can be carried off by the enemy, the head is preserved, and fixed on the dwelling of the conqueror. No dishonor attaches itself to such an end; and, indeed, a Maori warrior would feel himself direfully insulted if he were told that in case of his death in the field his body would be allowed to remain untouched.

In fact, he regards his moko precisely in the same light that an American Indian looks upon his scalp-lock; and, indeed, there are many traits in the character of the Maori warrior in which he strangely resembles the best examples of North American savages.

In order to preserve the head of a slain warrior, some process of embalming must evidently be pursued, and that which is commonly followed is simple enough.

The head being cut off, the hair is removed, and so are the eyes; the places of which are filled up with pledgets of tow, over which the eyelids are sewed. Pieces of stick are then placed in the nostrils in order to keep them properly distended, and the head is hung in the smoke of the wood fire until it is thoroughly saturated with the pyroligneous acid. The result of this mode of preparation is, that the flesh shrinks up, and the features become much distorted; though, as the Maori warrior always distorts his countenance as much as possible before battle, this effect is rather realistic than otherwise.

It is often said that heads prepared in this fashion are proof against the attacks of insects. This is certainly not the case, as I have seen several specimens completely riddled by the ptilinus and similar creatures, and have been obliged to destroy the little pests by injecting a solution of corrosive sublimate. In spite of the shrivelling to which the flesh and skin are subject, the tattooing retains its form; and it is most curious to observe how the finest lines completely retain their relative position to each other.

Not only are the heads of enemies treated in this fashion, but those of friends are also preserved. The difference is easily perceptible by looking at the mouth, which, if the head be that of a friend, is closed, and if of an enemy, is widely opened.

Some years ago, a considerable number of these preserved heads were brought into Europe, having been purchased from the natives. Of late years, however, the trade in them has been strictly forbidden, and on very good grounds. In the first place, no man who was well tattooed was safe for an hour, unless he were a great chief, for he might at any time be watched until he was off his guard, and then knocked down, killed, and his head sold to the traders. Then, when the natives became too cautious to render head hunting a profitable trade, a new expedient was discovered.

It was found that a newly tattooed head looked as well when preserved as one which had been tattooed for years. The chiefs were not slow in taking advantage of this discovery, and immediately set to work at killing the least valuable of their slaves, tattooing their heads as though they had belonged to men of high rank, drying, and then selling them.

One of my friends lately gave me a curious illustration of the trade in heads. His father wanted to purchase one of the dried heads, but did not approve of any that were brought for sale, on the ground that the tattoo was poor, and was not a good example of the skill of the native artists. The chief allowed the force of the argument, and, pointing to a number of his people who had come on board, he turned to the intending purchaser, saying, “Choose which of these heads you like best, and when you come back I will take care to have it dried and ready for your acceptance.” As may be imagined, this speech put an abrupt end to all head purchasing, and gave an unexpected insight into the mysteries of trading as conducted by savage nations.

CHAPTER LXXX.
NEW ZEALAND—Continued. DRESS AND ORNAMENTS.

THE “MATS” OF THE NEW ZEALANDERS — THE MATERIAL OF WHICH THEY ARE MADE — THE NEW ZEALAND FLAX, OR PHORMIUM — MODE OF MAKING THE MATS — VARIOUS KINDS OF MATS — THE RAIN MAT AND ITS USES — THE OPEN-WORKED MAT — THE DIFFERENT ORNAMENTS OF THE MAT: STRINGS AND TAGS, SCARLET TUFTS AND BORDERS — WAR CLOAKS OF THE CHIEFS — THE DOGS’-HAIR MAT — THE CHIEF PARÁTENE IN HIS CLOAK — MODE OF MAKING THE WAR CLOAKS — BRIEF ACCOUNT OF THE CHIEF — AMUSING INSTANCE OF VANITY IN A CHIEF — SUBSTITUTION OF THE BLANKET AND ITS ATTENDANT EVILS — ORNAMENTS OF THE NEW ZEALANDER’S HEAD — FEATHERS, AND FEATHER BOXES — VARIOUS DECORATIONS OF GREEN JADE — TIKIS AND EAR-RINGS — A REMARKABLE AMULET — THE SHARK’S TOOTH — MODES OF DRESSING THE HAIR — HAIR-CUTTING AND SHAVING — A PRIMITIVE RAZOR.

We now come to the costume of the New Zealanders. This is of a rather remarkable character, and may be characterized by the generic title of mat, with the exception of the belt which has just been described. The costume of the New Zealander consists of a square or oblong mat, varying considerably in size, though always made on the same principle. In this mat the natives envelop themselves after a very curious fashion, generally muffling themselves up to the neck, and often throwing the folds round them after the fashion of a conventional stage villain.

These mats are of various textures, and differ as much in excellence and value as do the fabrics of more civilized lands. The material is, however, the same in all cases, and even the mode of wearing the garment, the value being estimated by the fineness of the material, the amount of labor bestowed upon it, and the ornaments introduced into it.

The material of which the mats are made is the so-called New Zealand “flax,” scientifically known by the name of Phormium tenax. It belongs to the natural family of the Liliaceæ and the tribe Asparagaceæ. The plant has a number of showy yellow flowers arranged on a tall branch-panicle, and a number of straightish leaves, all starting from the root, and being five or six feet long, and not more than two inches wide at the broadest part.

The fibres which run along these leaves are very strong and fine, and, when properly dressed and combed, have a beautiful silky look about them. At one time great quantities of New Zealand flax, as it was called, were imported into Europe, and the plant was cultivated in some of the southern parts of the Continent. Strong, however, as it may be, it has the curious fault of snapping easily when tied in a knot, and on this account is not valued so much in Europe as in its own country. I have before me a large roll of string made by natives from the phormium. It is very strong in proportion to its thickness, and much of it has been used in suspending various curiosities in my collection; but it cannot endure being made into a knot. It is useful enough in hitches, especially the “clove-hitch;” but as soon as it is tied into a knot, it will hardly bear the least strain.

The principle on which the mats are made is very simple. A weaving frame is erected on sticks a foot or so from the ground, and upon it is arranged the weft, made of strings or yarns, placed as closely together as possible, and drawn quite tight. The weft is double, and is passed under and over each yarn, and the upper one is always passed between the ends of the under weft before it is drawn tight. The mat is therefore nothing more than a number of parallel strings laid side by side, and connected, at intervals of an inch or so, by others that pass across them. More care is taken of the edges, which are turned over, and the yarns are so interwoven as to make a thick and strong border.

When the wefts are hauled tight, they are beaten into their place by means of a bone instrument, very much like a paper knife in shape; and in every respect the weaving of a New Zealander most strongly reminds the spectator of the process of making the Gobelin tapestries. In both cases there is a fixed warp on which the weft is laboriously woven by hand, and is kept straight and regular by being struck with an instrument that passes between the threads of the warp. Although at the present day the warp of the Gobelin tapestry is stretched perpendicularly, in former times it was stretched longitudinally in a low frame, exactly similar in principle to that which is employed by the New Zealander.

The reader will perceive that the process of weaving one of these mats must be a work of considerable time, and an industrious woman can scarcely complete even a common mat under eighteen months, while one of the more elaborate robes will occupy twice that time.

The [illustration No. 1] on the next page, is drawn from a sketch of a house belonging to one of the great chiefs, and in it are seen some women busily employed in making mats. One of them is scraping the leaves with a shell or stone, while another is engaged at the primitive loom. The mat is represented as nearly completed, and the woman is seen with the four ends of the double weft in her hand, passing them across each other before she draws them tight. A heap of dressed leaves of the phormium is seen in the background, and a bundle of the long swordlike leaves is strewn on the floor. Various baskets and other implements, made of the same material, are hung from the rafters; and in front is one of the curiously carved poles which support the roof.

It has been mentioned that there is but one principle on which all the mats are made, but that there is a very great variety in making them. There is, for example, the rain mat, which is used in wet weather. As the structure proceeds, the manufacturer inserts into each knot of the weft an undressed blade of the phormium upon which the epidermis has been allowed to remain. When wrapped round the body, the leaves all fall over each other, so as to make a sort of penthouse, and to allow the rain to run over their smooth and polished surfaces until it falls to the ground.

When rain comes on, and a number of natives are seen squatting on the ground, each wearing his rain mat, they have a most absurd appearance, and look like a number of human beings who had hidden themselves in haycocks. On [page 803] may be seen the figure of a chief wearing one of these dresses. The name of the mat is E mangaika.

I have seen another kind of mat, which is made in a kind of open-work pattern, produced by crossing every fifth strand of the warp. This mat is of the very best quality, and, considering the nature of the material of which it is made, is wonderfully light, soft, and pliant.

Another kind is the woman’s mat, of which there are several varieties. It is of larger size than that employed by the men, and is capable of enveloping the entire figure from head to foot. It is of rather lighter material than the rain mat, and is decorated on the exterior with a number of strings, varying in length from a few inches to three feet or so. A variety of this mat is distinguished by having the strings white instead of black. Specimens of both these mats are in my collection, and the general effect of them can be seen by reference to any of the illustrations which represent the native women.

Strings or tags are undoubtedly the most characteristic portion of the dress, and there is scarcely a mat of any description that is not ornamented with them. One variety of mat, which is called E wakaiwa, is covered with long cylindrical ornaments that look very much as if they were made of porcupine quills, being hard, and colored alternately black and yellow. The ornaments are, however, made of the phormium leaf in a very ingenious manner. The epidermis is carefully scraped off the under side of the leaf with a sharp-edged shell, and the leaf is then turned over. On the upper side the epidermis is removed at regular intervals, so as to expose the fibres.

The next process is to put the scraped leaf into a dye made of a decoction of kinan bark, and to let it remain for a definite time. When it is taken out, the dye has stained the exposed fibres a deep glossy black, while it has not been able to touch the polished yellow epidermis that is allowed to remain. The dyed leaves are next rolled up until they form cylinders as large as goose quills, and are then woven in regular rows into the material of a mat. As the wearer moves about, the cylinders rustle and clatter against each other, producing a sound which seems to be peculiarly grateful to the ears of the natives. Such a mat or cloak is highly prized. Several of these mats are in my collection, and very curious examples of native art they are.

One of these has cost the weaver an infinity of trouble. It is nearly five feet wide and three in depth. The warp has been dyed black, while the weft is white; and the effect of the weft passing in reverse lines across the warp is very good. Every other line of weft is decorated with the cylindrical tassels each of which is nine inches in length, and is divided into four parts by the removal of the epidermis. These tassels begin at the fourth line of warp, and are regularly continued to the lower edge, whence they hang so as to form a fringe. On account of their number, they would qualify the garment as a rain mat on an emergency; and the rattling they make as the mat is moved is very much like that which is produced by a peacock when it rustles its train.

(1.) WOMEN MAKING MATS.
(See [page 808].)

(2.) THE TANGI.
(See [page 824].)

Along the upper edge, which passes over the shoulders, the strings have been rolled together into ropes as thick as the finger, and then plaited so as to form a thick and soft border which will not hurt the neck. The portion of the mat which comes between the edge and the first row of tassels is ornamented with scraps of scarlet wool plaited into the weft. This wool is a favorite though costly ornament to the natives, being procured from seamen’s woollen caps, which they unpick, and the yarns used to ornament the dress.

One of these mantles brought from New Zealand by Stiverd Vores, Esq., is adorned very largely with scarlet wool. It is completely bordered with the precious material, a narrow line of scarlet running under the upper edge, a broader under the lower, while the two sides are decorated with a band nearly four inches in width. In this case the wool has been arranged in a series of loops; but in another specimen the loops are cut so as to form a fringe.

In this latter mantle the tags, instead of being cylindrical and alternately black and yellow, are entirely black, each rolled leaf being wholly divested of its epidermis, and the fibres radiating from each other in tassel fashion. I rather think that the object of this mode of treatment is to prevent the eye from being distracted by the jangling yellow tags, and so to permit the scarlet border to exhibit its beauties to the best advantage.

Scarlet worsted is, of course, a comparatively late invention, and has only been introduced since the visits of Europeans. In former days the natives were equally fond of ornamenting their cloaks, and were obliged to use the plumage of birds for the purpose. The feathers taken from the breast of the kaka (a species of nestor) were mostly used for this purpose. Although the colored ornaments are generally disposed in lines, they are sometimes arranged in tufts, which are disposed in regular intervals over the whole of the dress. Examples of this kind of decoration may be seen in several of the costumes which are drawn in this work.

The yarns or strings of which the warp is made are not twisted or plaited, but consist merely of the phormium fibres as they lie in the leaf. The leaves are prepared for this purpose by scraping off the epidermis on both sides, and then beating them on a flat stone with a pestle made of the hard volcanic stone employed in the manufacture of adzes and other tools.

The most valuable of all the dresses are the war cloaks of the great chiefs. They are very large, being sometimes nearly six feet in depth, and wide enough to be wrapped over the entire body and limbs. Their native name is Parawai.

Before making one of these great war mats, the weaver collects a large quantity of dog’s hair, which she assorts into parcels of different colors. She then sets up her simple loom, and fixes the warp as usual. But with every knot or mesh which she makes with the weft she introduces a tuft of hair, taking care to make each tuft long enough to overlap and conceal the insertion of the tufts in the next row. She is also careful about the regular arrangement of the hues, so that when a complete mat is made by a skilful weaver, it looks exactly as if it was composed of the skin of some large animal, the vegetable fibres which form the fabric itself being entirely concealed by the tufts of hair.

One of these mats is the result of some four years’ constant labor, and causes some surprise that a people so naturally indolent as the Maories should prove themselves capable of such long and steady industry. But the fact is, the mat maker is a woman and not a man, and in consequence is obliged to work, whether she likes it or not.

In the next place, mat weaving scarcely comes under the denomination of labor. The woman is not tied to time, nor even bound to produce a given number of mats within a given period. Her living, too, does not depend upon the rate of her work, and whether she takes eighteen months or two years to produce a garment is a matter of total indifference to all parties. Besides, she never works alone, but is always accompanied by friends, one of whom, perhaps, may be occupied in a similar manner, another may be employed in scraping the phormium leaves, and another is engaged in pounding and softening the fibres, or drying those that have just been dyed black.

But, whatever their hands may be doing, the weavers’ tongues are never still. A continual stream of talk flows round the looms, and the duty of mat making is thus changed into an agreeable mode of enjoying the pleasures of conversation while the hands are employed in a light and easy labor.

Very great ingenuity is displayed by the woman to whom is entrusted the onerous task of making a war mat. No two are alike, the weaver exercising her discretion respecting the colors and their arrangement. Some of them are made on the same principle as the Bechuana kaross,—namely, darkest in the centre, and fading into the lightest hues round the edges. Others are white or pale in the middle, and edged with a broad band of black or dark brown hair. Sometimes the colors are arranged in a zigzag pattern, and several mats are striped like tiger skins. They always have a sort of collar, composed of strips of fur, which hang about six inches over the shoulders.

In New Zealand there are one or two dresses which are made almost entirely of fur, the skins being dressed with the hair adhering to them, and then sewed together. A very remarkable mat is possessed by a powerful chief named Parátene Maioha. It is made of strips of dogs’ fur sewed over a large flaxen mat. Of this garment he is very proud, and reserves it to be worn on grand occasions. A portrait of this celebrated chief is given in the [illustration No. 1], on the 820th page, partly to show the aspect of a Maori chief in time of peace, and partly to give the reader an idea of the peculiar look of the war cloak.

There is also before me a photographic portrait of Parátene, authenticated by his autograph, in which he is represented as clad in a different manner. He wears two mats or cloaks, the lower being of the finest flax, and called by the natives kaitaka. A description of this kind of cloak will be presently given. Over the kaitaka he wears a very remarkable war cloak, which is made of dogs’ fur sewed upon a flax mat. It reaches a little below the knees, and is made in perpendicular stripes alternately dark and pale, and is furnished with a thick collar or cape of the same material. This cape, by the way, bears a curious resemblance to the ornament which is worn by the Abyssinian chiefs.

Unfortunately for the general effect of the picture, Parátene has combed, divided, and brushed his hair in European fashion; and muffled up as he is to the chin, it is too evident that he is wearing a complete European suit under his mats. The cape has fallen off a little on the right side, and we have the absurd anomaly of a face profusely tattooed surmounted with hair that has just been brushed and combed, a dog-skin war mat, from which protrudes a bare right arm, a jade earring six inches long, and a black cravat and turn-down collar. In his right hand he grasps his cherished merai; his staff of office, or E’hani, rests against his shoulder; and by his side is his long battle-axe, adorned with a tuft of feathers and dog-skin. This same Parátene is a man of great mark among the Maories.

As is the case with natives of rank who have associated with Europeans, he is known by several names. The following account of him is given by Mr. G. F. Angas:

“Parátene (Broughton), whose native name was Te Maihoa, is a cousin of Te Whero-whero, and one of the leading men of the Ngatimahuta branch of the Waikato tribes. He generally resides in a village (or kainga) on the northern bank of the picturesque little harbor of Waingaroa, on the west coast of the Northern Island; and the correctness of his general conduct, and the gravity of his demeanor, have obtained for him a marked ascendancy over many of his equals in rank.

“Eccentricity is the principal feature in the character of this chief; and the scrupulous attention which he invariably pays to those trifling circumstances which constitute his notions of etiquette often renders his conduct highly curious. He has gained, by unwearied application, a smattering of arithmetic, and one of his most self-satisfactory exploits is the correct solution of some such important problem as the value of a pig of a certain weight, at a given price per pound, making the usual deduction for the offal. His erudite quality and the dignified gravity of his carriage have commanded the deferential respect of his people, and encouraged them to consider him quite an oracle.

“One little incident will place the harmless foible of this chief’s character in a striking light. When the author was about to employ his pencil in the delineation of his figure, Parátene desired to be excused for a few moments. Having gained his point, he sought an interview with Mrs. Wells, the missionary’s wife (under whose hospitable roof his portrait was taken), and, preferring his request with some solemn intimations of its paramount importance, begged ‘Mother’ to lend him a looking-glass, that he might compose his features in a manner suitable to his own idea of propriety ere he took his stand before the easel of the artist.”

It may be observed, by the way, that “Mother” is the term always employed by the natives when addressing the wife of a missionary. The autograph of Parátene, to which allusion has already been made, is written with pencil, and is perfectly intelligible, though the characters are shaky, large, and sprawling, and look as if they had been made by fingers more accustomed to handle the club than the pencil.

The last kind of mat which will be mentioned is the kaitaka. This garment is made of a peculiar kind of flax, cultivated for the express purpose, and furnishing a fibre which is soft and fine as silk. The whole of the mat is plain, except the border, which is in some cases two feet in depth, and which is most elaborately woven into a vandyked pattern of black, red, and white. At the present day a good kaitaka is scarcely anywhere to be seen, the skill required in making them being so great that only a few weavers can produce them, and European blankets being so easily procured that the natives will not take the trouble of weaving garments that take so much time and trouble.

Handsome as are these native garments, they are not very pleasant to wear. As the threads are only laid parallel to each other, and are not crossed, as in fabrics woven in the loom, they form scarcely any protection against the wind, although they may serve to keep out the rain. The mats are very heavy, my own small specimen of the waikawa cloak weighing five pounds and a half, and so stiff that they cannot be conveniently rolled up and packed away when out of use. An English blanket, on the contrary, is close-textured, resists the wind, is very light, and can be rolled up into a small compass; so that it is no wonder that the natives prefer it.

Unfortunately for them, it is not nearly so healthy a garment as that which is made by themselves, as it is worn for a long time without being washed, and so becomes saturated with the grease and paint with which the natives are fond of adorning their bodies. In consequence, it fosters several diseases of the skin to which the Maories are subject, and it has been found that those who wear blankets are much more subject to such ailments than those who adhere to the native raiment.

In some parts of the country, where the ground is hard and stony, the natives plait for themselves sandals or slippers, which very much resemble those which are used by the Japanese. They consist of the ever-useful phormium fibres, which are twisted into cords, and then plaited firmly into the shape of a shoe sole.

We now proceed from the dress to the ornaments worn by the New Zealanders.

In some respects they resemble those which are in use among other dark tribes. Feathers are much valued by them, and among the commonest of these adornments is a bunch of white feathers taken from the pelican, and fastened to the ears so as to fall on the shoulder. An example of this may be seen in the [portrait of the old warrior] on page 794. Sometimes the skin of a small bird is rudely stuffed, and then suspended as an earring, and sometimes one wing will be placed at each side of the head, the tips nearly meeting above.

The most prized of these adornments are the tail feathers of the bird called by the natives E Elia, or E Huia (Neomorpha Gouldii). It is allied to the hoopoos, and is remarkable for the fact that the beak of the male is straight and stout, while that of the female is long, slender, and sickle-shaped. The color of the bird is a dark glossy green of so deep a hue that in some lights it seems to be black. The tail feathers, however, are tipped with snowy white, so that when the bird spreads its plumage for flight, the tail looks at a little distance as if it were black, edged with white.

The bird is only found in the hills near Port Nicholson, and, as it is very wary, can scarcely be obtained except by the help of a native, who imitates its cry with wonderful perfection. The name E Elia is said to be merely an imitation of the long shrill whistle of the bird. The birds are so valued by the Maories that in all probability the species would have been extinct by this time, but for the introduction of European customs, which to a certain degree have driven out the ancient customs.

The feathers of the tail are the parts of the bird that are most valued by the chiefs, who place them in their hair on great occasions. So much do they prize these feathers, that they take the trouble to make boxes in which they are kept with the greatest care. These boxes are made by the chiefs themselves, and are covered with the most elaborate carvings, some of them being the finest specimens of art that can be found in New Zealand. They are of various shapes, but a very good idea of their usual form may be obtained from the [illustration No. 3], on page 775. The usual forms are similar to that of the illustration, but in some cases the boxes are oblong. There is now before me a drawing of one of these boxes, which is covered with an equally elaborate pattern, in which the lines are mostly straight instead of curved, the pattern being of a vandyked character, similar to that upon the kaitaka cloak. There is a projecting handle upon the lid, and an almost similar handle upon each end.

The natives do not, however, confine themselves to wearing the tail feathers, but, when they can obtain so valuable a bird, are sure to use every portion of it. The head seems to be thought of next importance to the tail, and is suspended to the ear by a thong.

Perhaps the most characteristic ornaments that are worn by the New Zealanders are those which are made of green jade. This mineral, called by the natives Poonamu, is mostly found near the lakes in the Middle Island, and is valued by them with almost a superstitious reverence. If a very large piece be found, it is taken by some chief, who sets to work to make a club from it. This club, called a merai, will be described when we come to treat of war as conducted by the Maories.

In the [illustration No. 1], on page 841, are represented some of the most characteristic jade ornaments.

[Fig. 1] is a flat image bearing the rude semblance of a human being, and made of various sizes. That which is here given is rather smaller than the usual dimensions. It is called by the natives Tiki, and is at the same time one of the commonest and the highest prized articles among the New Zealanders. A new one can be purchased for a sum which, though it would be considered absurdly high in England for such an object, is in New Zealand really a low price, and scarcely repays the trouble of carving it.

Jade is an extremely hard mineral, ranking next to the ruby in that respect, and, in consequence of its extreme hardness, taking a peculiar glossy polish that is seen on no other substance. The time which is occupied in carving one of these ornaments is necessarily very great, as the native does not possess the mechanical means which render its manipulation a comparatively easy task to the European engraver, and can only shape his ornaments by laboriously rubbing one piece of stone upon another.

That ornaments made of such a material should be highly prized is not a matter of surprise, and it is found that a wealthy chief will give an extraordinarily high price for a handsome jade ornament. There is in my collection a very ancient Buddhist amulet, made of the purest green jade, and beautifully carved, the remarkable portion of it being a revolving wheel with spiral spokes, the wheel being cut out of the solid jade. The amulet was found in the apartments of the Queen of Oude, and had evidently been imported from China, where it was engraved, the whole character of the work belonging to a very ancient epoch of Chinese art. It was shown to a Maori chief, who was then visiting England, and who was intensely pleased with it, saying that, if it were sent to New Zealand and offered for sale to one of the great chiefs, it would be purchased for £20 or £25 of English money.

It has been just mentioned that, in spite of the labor bestowed on the ornament, a new tiki can be purchased for a moderate sum. Such, however, would not be the case were the tiki an old one. These ornaments are handed down from father to son, and in process of time are looked upon with the greatest reverence, and treated as heirlooms which no money can buy.

One of these tikis was seen by Mr. Angas lying on the tomb of a child, where it had been placed as an offering by the parents. It had lain there for a long time; but, in spite of the value of the ornament, no one had ventured to touch it. It was a very small one, even less in size than the drawing in the [illustration], and had in all probability been worn by the child on whose tomb it lay.

Most of these tikis are plain, but some of them have their beauty increased by two patches of scarlet cement with which the sockets of the eyes are filled.

The tikis are worn on the breast, suspended by a cord round the neck; and almost every person of rank, whether man or woman, possesses one. They are popularly supposed to be idols, and are labelled as such in many museums; but there is not the least reason for believing them to fulfil any office except that of personal decoration. The Maories are fond of carving the human figure upon everything that can be carved. Their houses are covered with human figures, their canoes are decorated with grotesque human faces, and there is not an implement or utensil which will not have upon it some conventional representation of the human form. It is therefore not remarkable that when a New Zealander finds a piece of jade which is too small to be converted into a weapon, and too flat to be carved into one of the cylindrical earrings which are so much valued, he should trace upon it the same figure as that which surrounds him on every side.

The most common forms of earring are those which are shown at [figs. 4 and 5], the latter being most usually seen. It is so strangely shaped that no one who did not know its use would be likely to imagine that it was ever intended to be worn in the ear. Two rather remarkable earrings are worn in New Zealand as marks of rank; one being a natural object, and the other an imitation of it. This earring is called mako tamina, and is nothing but a tooth of the tiger shark. Simple though it be, it is greatly prized, as being a mark of high rank, and is valued as much as a plain red button by a Chinese mandarin, or, to come nearer home, the privilege of wearing a piece of blue ribbon among ourselves.

Still more prized than the tooth itself is an imitation of it in pellucid jade. The native carver contrives to imitate his model wonderfully well, giving the peculiar curves of a shark’s tooth with singular exactness. Such an ornament as this is exceedingly scarce, and is only to be seen in the ears of the very greatest chiefs. Anything seems to serve as an earring, and it is not uncommon to see natives of either sex wearing in their ears a brass button, a key, a button-hook, or even a pipe.

There is very little variety in the mode of dressing the hair, especially among women. Men generally keep it rather short, having it cut at regular intervals, while some of the elders adhere to the ancient custom of wearing it long, turning it up in a bunch on the top of the head, and fastening it with combs.

These are formed after a fashion common to all Polynesia, and extending even to Western Africa. The teeth are not cut out of a single piece of wood, but each is made separately, and fastened to its neighbor by a strong cross-lashing. The teeth, although slight, are strong and elastic, and are well capable of enduring the rather rough handling to which they are subjected.

Children of both sexes always wear the hair short like the men; but as the girls grow up, they allow the hair to grow, and permit it to flow over their shoulders on either side of the face. They do not part it, but bring it down over the forehead, and cut it in a straight line just above the eyebrows. When they marry, they allow the whole of the hair to grow, and part it in the middle. They do not plait or otherwise dress it, but merely allow it to hang loosely in its natural curls.

Hair-cutting is with the New Zealanders a long and tedious operation, and is conducted after the fashion which prevails in so many parts of the world. Not knowing the use of scissors, and being incapable of producing any cutting instrument with an edge keen enough to shave, they use a couple of shells for the operation, placing the edge of one under the hair that is to be cut, and scraping it with the edge of the other.

Although this plan is necessarily a very slow one, it is much more efficacious than might be imagined, and is able not only to cut the hair of the head, but to shave the stiff beards of the men. In performing the latter operation, the barber lays the edge of the lower shell upon the skin, and presses it well downward, so as to enable the upper shell to scrape off the hair close to the skin. Beard-shaving is necessarily a longer process than hair-cutting, because it is not possible to cut more than one or two hairs at a time, and each of them takes some little time in being rubbed asunder between the edges of the shells.

CHAPTER LXXXI.
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.

(1.) PARÁTENE MAIOHA IN HIS STATE WAR CLOAK.
(See [page 812].)

(2.) THE CHIEF’S DAUGHTER.
(See [page 821].)

(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.

CHAPTER LXXXII.
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.

(1.) PREPARING FOR A FEAST.
(See [page 827].)

(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.

(1.) CANNIBAL COOK HOUSE.
(See [page 834].)

(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.

CHAPTER LXXXIII.
NEW ZEALAND—Continued. WAR.

THE MODE OF WARFARE DEPENDENT ON WEAPONS — THE SPEAR, NOW EXTINCT — THE MERAI, AND THE MATERIALS OF WHICH IT IS MADE — THE GREEN JADE MERAI, AND ESTIMATION IN WHICH IT IS HELD BY THE CHIEFS — THE STONE MERAI — THE BONE MERAI, AND ITS VARIED SHAPES — MODE OF USING THE WEAPON — CAPTURE OF SHIPS — AN EXCITING SCENE AND TIMELY RELIEF — THE BATTLE-AXE, OR PATU — ITS FORM, AND MODE OF USING IT — THE CHIEF’S SPEAR, OR HANI — ITS RESEMBLANCE TO THE ANCIENT SCEPTRE — THE TONGUE OF DEFIANCE — THE WAR DANCE — ITS EFFECT ON BOARD SHIP — THE FORT, OR PAH, AND ITS CONSTRUCTION — NATIVE ENGINEERING — THE REPULSE AT THE GATE PAH — CONCEALING AN AMBUSH — FATE OF CAPTIVES — THE CHIEF E’HONGI AND HIS BATTLES — SLAVE-DRIVING WITH A MERAI — ETIQUETTE OF WAR — A TRUCE AND A BARTER — RETALIATION FOR BLOODSHED — CEREMONIES BEFORE AND AFTER A BATTLE.

We now come to the one great object of a Maori’s life, namely, war. Before we treat of actual warfare, it will be necessary to describe the weapons which are used, as much of the character of warfare materially depends on them.

In those parts of the world, for instance, where missiles, such as bows and arrows or spears, are the principal weapons, war becomes a series of skirmishes, each individual trying to conceal himself as much as possible from the enemy, and to deal his own blows without exposing himself to retaliation. But when the weapons are of a nature that necessitates hand-to-hand combat, warfare naturally assumes a different aspect, and, if the forces be at all disciplined, more resembles the regulated war of civilized nations than the independent single combats which represent war in most savage countries.

To this latter category belong the weapons of the New Zealander. In former days the Maori warriors used to employ the spear, but that weapon has long been laid aside. A few specimens are still retained, but they are intended, not to be used against an enemy, but in welcoming a friend, the chief who receives his guests pointing the spear at them, and throwing it toward them, as has already been described. When Mr. Angas visited the islands, he found only a very few of these spears, and they were used entirely for peaceful purposes. They were of the same character as those of the great Polynesian group, i. e. made entirely of wood, long, sharply pointed, and armed with a series of barbs.

One of these spears is shown at [figure 1], of “Maori weapons,” on page 841. The reader will understand that only the head of the spear is shown, the entire length of the weapon being about twelve feet. The barbs are seen to be arranged in double order, a number of them pointing backward, and then, after a blank space, several rows pointing forward. The object of this device was ingenious enough. The spear was supposed to be pushed through the body of a man until it was stopped by the second row of barbs. It will be seen that his body would then rest in the blank space, and the barbs on either side of him would prevent it from being drawn out or pushed through, so that a wound from the weapon was necessarily mortal. A spear made on the same principle, and employed by the Bechuanas, is shown on page 281.

The weapons used by the Maories are very few in number, and of the simplest possible construction. It is extraordinary, by the way, what misconceptions exist on this subject. With the generality of persons almost every club, axe, or spear is set down as belonging to New Zealand, especially if it has any carving about it. Even the best public collections are not free from these errors, and in one of the most celebrated collections of arms I discovered within five minutes ten or twelve wrong labels.

There is now before me an illustrated work on savage manners and customs, in which is a group of “New Zealand arms,” containing thirteen objects. Of these only one is a genuine weapon of New Zealand, and two others are doubtful. There are two Fiji clubs (one of them with a hollow tubular handle!), one stone knife of New Caledonia, two clubs of the Tonga Islands, one Maori chief’s staff of office, one New Zealander’s carpenter’s adze, one “poi” mallet and one “gnatoo” mallet from Tonga, and two articles which the draughtsman may have intended for clubs, but which have been transformed by the engraver’s art into bottle-gourds. Besides, there is one nondescript article which may be a drum (and therefore cannot belong to New Zealand), or it may be a pail, or it may be a jar, and another nondescript article.

We need not, however, wonder at these trifling errors when, in the same work, a scene in a North American wigwam is described as a “New Zealand christening,” and the “Interior of a Caffre hut” is fitted with Abyssinian arms and implements: the men are represented as wearing long two-forked beards like those of the Fans, headdresses like those of Tonga, and capes like those of Abyssinia; while a smooth-haired woman, instead of being dressed in Kaffir fashion, is naked with the exception of a white cloth tied round her hips. The hut itself is a singularly ingenious example of perversity on the part of the draughtsman, who has selected precisely those very characteristics which do not belong to the Kaffir hut. In the first place, the hut is three times too large, and the walls are apparently of clay—certainly not of the basket-work employed by Kaffirs in house-building. The floor, which in a Kaffir hut is laid down with clay, as smooth as a table and hard as concrete, is irregular and covered with grass; while, by way of climax, the door is high enough to allow a man to pass without stooping, and is finished with a beautiful arched porch covered with creepers.

With the exception of one man, who may, by some stretch of imagination, be taken for a Hottentot, neither the hut, its furniture, its inhabitants, nor their weapons, bear the slightest similitude to those of any part of Southern Africa. Such being the case with museums and books, we need not be surprised that the popular ideas respecting the weapons and warfare of New Zealand are very indefinite.

Of course, at the present day, the Maories have practically discarded their ancient weapons in favor of the rifle, which they know well how to use, retaining the aboriginal weapons more as marks of rank than for active service. We have, however, nothing to do with these modern innovations, and will restrict ourselves to the weapons that belong to the country.

The first and most important of these is the merai, or short club. This weapon is exactly analogous to the short sword used by the ancient Romans, and in some cases resembles it so closely that if the cross-guard were removed from the sword and the blade rendered convex instead of flat, the shapes of the two weapons would be almost exactly identical.

The material of which these weapons are made is sometimes wood and sometimes stone, but mostly bone, the latter material being furnished by the spermaceti whale. The stone merai is the most valued, on account of the difficulty of finding a suitable piece for the purpose, and of the enormous time which is consumed in cutting it to the desired shape with the very imperfect instrument which the Maori possesses. In fact, a stone merai is lowly and laboriously ground into shape by rubbing it with a piece of stone and a sort of emery powder.

Every merai has a hole drilled through the end of the handle. Through this hole is passed a loop of plaited cord, by means of which the weapon is slung to the wrist, to prevent the wearer from being disarmed in battle. Drilling the hole is a very slow process, and is done by means of a wetted stick dipped in emery powder.

The finest merai of this description that I have seen belongs to H. Christie, Esq., and is remarkable not merely for its size, but for the regularity and beauty of its curves. The material is the dark, dull green volcanic stone of which the New Zealanders make so many of their implements. It is nearly eighteen inches in length, and rather more than four inches wide at the broadest part. There is a similar weapon, nearly as large, in the collection of the United Service Institution; but the curves are not so regular, nor is the article so handsome.

One of these weapons is in my collection. It is of equal beauty in shape with that which has been described, but is not so long. It is rather more than fourteen inches in length, and not quite four inches wide. It weighs two pounds six ounces, and is a most formidable weapon, a blow from its sharp edge being sufficient to crash through the skull of an ox, not to mention that of a human being.

Every chief, however low in rank, is sure to have one of these merais, of which he is very proud, and from which he can scarcely be induced to part. The great chiefs have their merais made of green jade, such as has already been described when treating of Maori ornaments. These weapons are handed down from father to son, and are so highly valued by the natives that it is hardly possible to procure one, unless it be captured in battle. If a chief should die without a son to whom his merai can descend, the weapon is generally buried with him.

At [fig. 6], in the “weapons,” on page 841, is seen one of these green jade merais. The shape is not nearly so elegant as that of my weapon which has just been described. Indeed, with so valuable and rare a mineral as this green jade, it is not easy to find a piece large enough to be cut into an ordinarily shaped weapon and the manufacturer is obliged to do his best with the material at his command.

At [fig. 7] is an example of the commonest kind of merai, that which is made of wood. As the material of such a weapon is comparatively valueless, the Maories seem to indemnify themselves by adding ornament to the weapon. For example, they very seldom make the merai of the same simple shape as that at [fig. 6], but give it a distinct edge and back as at [fig. 7]. In some cases they make it into a most elaborate piece of native art, the whole being so beautifully carved that it looks more like a number of carved pieces of wood fitted together than a weapon cut out of one solid block.

A singularly beautiful example of such a weapon is to be seen in [fig. 1] of the illustration “Merais,” on page 841. As the reader may see it is one mass of carving, the design being cut completely through the wood, and therefore being alike on both sides. The back of the merai is carved into a pattern of singular beauty and boldness, and the edge is armed with a row of shark’s teeth, which make its blows very formidable when directed against the naked bodies of the Maori warriors. The specimen from which the drawing was taken may be seen in the collection of the British Museum.

The [second fig.] of the illustrations shows a merai made of bone. The material is mostly obtained from the blade bone of the spermaceti whale, and in consequence the weapon is said in books of travel to be made of whalebone, thus misleading the ordinary reader, who is sure to understand “whalebone” to be the black elastic substance obtained from the Greenland whale.

These merais are extremely variable in shape. Some of them are made like the stone weapons, except that they are much flatter, and have in consequence both edges alike. Sometimes they are studded with knobs and cut into hollows; sometimes carved into patterns, much resembling that of the wooden merai, but not so elaborate. The specimen which I have selected for the [illustration] shows examples of the ornaments and studs.

I possess a very good merai which has been made from the lower jaw of the spermaceti whale. This weapon is shown in [fig. 4] of the same illustration, opposite, and close by it is a section of the jaw of the whale, in order to show the manner in which it is cut. This weapon measures seventeen inches in length by three and a half inches in width, and weighs one pound nine ounces. In consequence of this comparative lightness, it is a much more efficient weapon than the stone merai; for the latter is so heavy that, if a blow misses its aim, the striker is unable to recover the weapon in time to guard himself, or to repeat the blow, and so lays himself open to the enemy.

If the reader will look at the [section of bone], he will see that it is porous in the centre and hard and solid at the edges. It is from the solid part that the merai has been cut, and in consequence the weapon is very flat. The numerous channels through which pass the blood vessels that nourish the bone are seen in the section, and in the drawing of the merai one of them is shown traversing the weapon longitudinally. The name of the merai is “patu-patu,” the u having the same sound as in flute.

Many of the natives have found out that the English bill-hook answers admirably as a merai, and can be obtained with very little trouble. Great quantities of them were at one time imported from Birmingham; but the rifle and bayonet have in latter days so completely superseded all other weapons that the Maories trouble themselves little about the bill-hook.

When a Maori fights with the merai, he does not merely strike, his usual movement being to thrust sharply at the chin of the enemy; and if he succeeds in striking him with the point, he cuts him down with the edge before he can recover himself.

At [fig. 5] of the “Maori weapons,” on the next page, is seen an axe, or tomahawk. This is a curious mixture of European and Maori work, the blade being obtained from England, and the handle made and carved in New Zealand with the usual grotesque patterns which a Maori likes to introduce into all objects connected with warfare. The thigh bone of a slain enemy is a favorite handle for such a tomahawk.

Before the fierce and warlike character of the New Zealanders was known, they took several vessels by the use of the merai. It was easy to suspend the short club over the shoulder, where it was hidden by the mat, so that when a party of natives came on board, apparently unarmed, having ostentatiously left their patus and other weapons in their canoes, each man was in fact armed with the weapon that he most trusted. The plan pursued was, that the Maories should mingle freely with the crew, until each man was close to one of the sailors. At a signal from the chief, the concealed merai was snatched from beneath the mat, and in a moment it had crashed through the head of the selected victim.

Even after this ruse was discovered, the ingenious Maories contrived to get hold of more than one vessel under pretence of exhibiting their war dance, which in a moment was changed from the mimicry of battle into reality, the warriors leaping among the spectators and dealing their blows right and left among them. Ship-taking seems, indeed, to be a proceeding so dear to the New Zealander, that he can scarcely resist the temptation when it is offered him. In Messrs. Tyerman and Rennet’s “Missionary Voyage” there is an anecdote of an adventure that befell them, which, but for the timely aid of a friendly chief, would undoubtedly have had a tragic issue.

(1.) GREEN JADE ORNAMENTS.
(See [page 813].)

(2.) WOODEN AND BONE MERAIS.
(See [page 840].)

(3.) MAORI WEAPONS.
(See [pages 838], [840], [844].)

The ship had arrived off New Zealand, and while at anchor the following events occurred:—“This morning our little vessel was surrounded with canoes, containing several hundreds of the natives, of both sexes, who presently climbed up, and crowded it so much that we were obliged to put a bar across the quarter-deck, and tabu it from intrusion. The commerce in various articles, on both sides, went on pretty well for some time, till one provoking circumstance after another occurred, which had nearly led to the seizure of the ship and the loss of our lives.

“In the confusion occasioned by the great throng in so narrow a space, the natives began to exercise their pilfering tricks, opportunities for which are seldom permitted to slip away unimproved. Suddenly the cook cried out, ‘They have stolen this thing;’ but scarcely had he named the thing (some kitchen article), when he called out again, ‘They have stolen the beef out of the pot!’ and then a third time, ‘They have stolen my cooking pan!’ Presently another voice bawled out from the forecastle, ‘Captain! they have broken open your trunk, and carried away your clothes!’

“Up to this time we had been in friendly intercourse with the chiefs, rubbing noses, and purchasing their personal ornaments and other curiosities, suspecting no mischief. But now, in the course of a few moments, without our perceiving the immediate reason, the whole scene was changed. We found afterward that the captain (Dibbs), on hearing of the audacious thefts above mentioned, had become angry, and while he was endeavoring, rather boisterously, to clear the deck of some of the intruders, one of them, a chief, on being jostled by him, fell over the ship’s side into the sea, between his own canoe and the vessel. This was seized instantaneously as the pretext for commencing hostilities. The women and children in the course of a few minutes had all disappeared, leaping overboard into their canoes, and taking with them the kakaous, or mantles, of the warriors. The latter, thus stripped for action, remained on deck; of which, before we were aware, they had taken complete possession; and forthwith made us their prisoners.

“Tremendous were the bawlings and screechings of the barbarians, while they stamped, and brandished their weapons, consisting principally of clubs and spears. One chief with his cookies (his slaves) had surrounded the captain, holding their spears at his breast and his sides, on the larboard quarter of the vessel. Mr. Tyerman, under guard of another band, stood on the starboard; and Mr. Bennet on the same side, but aft, toward the stern. Mr. Threlkeld and his little boy, not seven years old, were near Mr. Bennet not under direct manual grasp of the savages. The chief who, with his gang, had been trafficking with Mr. Bennet, now brought his huge tattooed visage near to Mr. B.’s, screaming, in tones the most odious and horrifying: ‘Tongata, New Zealandi, tongata kakino?—Tongata, New Zealandi, tongata kakino?’

“This he repeated as rapidly as lips, tongue, and throat could utter the words, which mean, ‘Man of New Zealand, is he bad man?—Man of New Zealand, a bad man?’ Happily Mr. Bennet understood the question (the New Zealand dialect much resembling the Tahitian): whereupon, though convinced that inevitable death was at hand, he answered, with as much composure as could be assumed, ‘Kaore kakino tongata New Zealandi, tongata kapai’ (‘Not bad; the New Zealander is a good man’); and so often as the other, with indescribable ferocity of aspect and sharpness of accent, asked the same question (which might be a hundred times), the same answer was returned.

“‘But,’ inquired Mr. Bennet, ‘why is all this uproar? Why cannot we still rub noses, and buy and sell, and barter, as before?’ At this moment a stout slave, belonging to the chief, stepped behind Mr. Bennet, and pinioned both his arms close to his sides. No effort was made to resist or elude the gigantic grasp, Mr. B. knowing that such would only accelerate the threatened destruction. Still, therefore, he maintained his calmness, and asked the chief the price of a neck ornament which the latter wore. Immediately another slave raised a large tree-felling axe (which, with others, had been brought to be sharpened by the ship’s company) over the head of the prisoner. This ruffian looked with demon-like eagerness and impatience toward his master for the signal to strike.

“And here it may be observed that our good countrymen can have no idea of the almost preternatural fury which savages can throw into their distorted countenances, and infuse into their deafening and appalling voices, when they are possessed by the legion-fiend of rage, cupidity, and revenge. Mr. Bennet persevered in keeping up conversation with the chief, saying, ‘We want to buy bruaa, kumera, ika, &c. (hogs, potatoes, fish), of you.’

“Just then he perceived a youth stepping on deck with a large fish in his hand. ‘What shall I give you for that fish?’—‘Why, so many fish-hooks.’—‘Well, then, put your hand into my pocket and take them.’ The fellow did so. ‘Now put the fish down there, on the binnacle, and bring some more, if you have any,’ said Mr. Bennet. At once the fish that he had just bought was brought round from behind and presented to him again for sale. He took no notice of the knavery, but demanded, ‘What shall I give you for that fish?’—‘So many hooks.’—‘Take them. Have you no other fish to sell?’ A third time the same fish was offered, and the same price in hooks required and given, or rather taken, by the vendor, out of his jacket pockets, which happened to be well stored with this currency for traffic. A fourth time Mr. Bennet asked, ‘Have you never another fish?’ At this the rogues could contain their scorn no longer, but burst into laughter, and cried, ‘We are cheating the foreigner!’ (‘Tangata ke!’) supposing that their customer was not aware how often they had caught him with the same bait.”

By this ingenious plan of pretending to be the dupe of the Maories, Mr. Bennet contrived to gain time, of which he knew that every minute was of the greatest importance, and at last he was rewarded for his courageous diplomacy by the arrival of a boat, in which was a friendly chief, who at once cleared the ship.

The reader will observe that at this time the New Zealanders had not abandoned the use of the spear as a weapon of war, though only twenty years afterward scarcely a spear could be found that was not intended as an emblem of hospitality instead of strife.

At [fig. 3] of “Weapons” is shown a very curious club, called Patu by the natives, and popularly, but wrongly, called by sailors a battle-axe. It is about five feet in length, and has at one end a flat, axe-like head, and at the other a sharp point. One of these weapons in my possession, presented to me, together with many similar articles, by E. Randell, Esq., is five feet one inch in length, and weighs two pounds six ounces, being exactly the same weight as the stone merai already described. The rounded edge of the axe-like head is very sharp, and certainly looks as if it was intended for the purpose of inflicting wounds. Such, however, is not the case, the Maori using the pointed butt as a spear or pike, and striking with the back of the head and not with the edge.

Through the lower portion of the head is bored a hole, to which is suspended a bunch of feathers and streamers. Sometimes this tuft is only a foot in length, but is often longer. In a specimen taken by Sir J. E. Alexander it is half as long as the patu itself. At first sight this appendage seems, like the multitudinous feathers which decorate a North American spear or club, to be merely an ornament, and to detract from, rather than add to, the efficiency of the weapon. But the Maori warrior is far too keen a soldier to sacrifice use to ornament, and, if he employs the latter, he is sure to take care that the former is not endangered by it.

In the present case, this apparently useless appendage adds materially to the effectiveness of the weapon. When the warrior, armed with the patu, meets an adversary, he does not rush at him heedlessly, but fences, as it were, with his weapon, holding it in both hands, twirling it about, and flourishing the bunch of feathers in the face of his foe so as to distract his attention. Neither does he stand in the same spot, but leaps here and there, endeavoring to take the foe off his guard, and making all kinds of feints in order to test the adversary’s powers. Should he see the least opening, the sharp point of the butt is driven into his adversary’s body, or a severe blow delivered with the head, the stroke being generally made upward and not downward, as might be imagined.

In fact, the whole management of the patu is almost identical with that of the old quarterstaff of England, a weapon whose use is unfortunately forgotten at the present day. The bunch of feathers is not an invariable appendage. In my own specimen, for example, it has never been used, and I have seen many others in which the hole has not been bored for the insertion of the string that ties the feathers together.

The last weapon drawn in this illustration is hardly worthy of the name. It is a dagger, and is shown at [fig. 4]. At [fig. 2] of the same illustration is seen an implement which is generally mistaken for a spear, and is labelled as such in many a collection. It is, however, no spear at all, but a sceptre, or staff of office belonging to a chief. The Maori name is E’Hani. It is shaped at the butt like an exceedingly elongated merai, and indeed the entire implement looks as if the hani and the merai were but different modifications of the same weapon.

Be this as it may, the hani is no spear, but a staff of office, almost identical in form with that which was borne by the ancient kings and heralds in the times of Troy. At the upper end is seen the head, which bears some resemblance to the point of a spear, and has given ground to the notion that the implement in question is really a spear. This portion, however, does not serve the purpose of offence, but is simply a conventional representation of the human tongue, which, when thrust forth to its utmost, conveys, according to Maori ideas, the most bitter insult and defiance. When the chief wishes to make war against any tribe, he calls his own people together, makes a fiery oration, and repeatedly thrusts his hani in the direction of the enemy, each such thrust being accepted as a putting forth of the tongue in defiance.

In order to show that the point of the hani is really intended to represent the human tongue, the remainder of it is carved into a grotesque and far-fetched resemblance of the human face, the chief features of which are two enormous circular eyes made of haliotis shell.

Generally, the hani is ornamented with feathers like the patu; but many of the staves are without this decoration, which is looked upon as a mere non-essential. These staves vary greatly in length. My own specimen is between five and six feet in length, and is without the feather ornaments, whereas others are not more than a yard in length, and are decorated with a bunch of feathers as long as themselves. The chiefs are nearly as tenacious of the hard as the merai, and do not seem to be easy if it be put out of their reach. Some years ago several Maori chiefs came to visit England, and were taken to see the various sights of London. But whether they went to the theatre, or to the Zoological Gardens, or to make calls, they invariably took their hanis with them, sometimes carrying a short one for convenience’ sake, but appearing to attach the greatest value to its possession.

One of these curious implements in my collection is six feet in length, and is made of the same wood as the patu. If held upright the resemblance of the point to the outstretched tongue is not very plain; but if it be held horizontally, the effect is quite altered, and the whole of the tip is seen to represent a human head with the tongue thrust out as far as possible between the lips. As the tongue is only a conventional representation, it is covered with a pattern, a ridge running along the centre, and each side being marked with precisely similar curves and semi-spirals.

In spite of its length, it really makes a very convenient walking-staff, and, on an emergency, might do duty as a weapon, the tongue-like tip being sharp enough to act as a spear head, and the flattened butt being heavy enough to stun a man with a well-directed blow. My specimen does not possess the tuft of feathers and dog’s-hair which decorates the hani shown in the “weapons” ([fig. 2], p. 841); but this adornment is not considered as forming a necessary part of the implement.

Before a party engage in war, they think themselves bound to join in the war dance. There are war dances in almost all savage tribes, but that of the New Zealander surpasses them all. In other cases, each warrior gives himself up to the excitement of the moment, and shouts, yells, dances, and brandishes his weapons as he seems to think fit; but the Maori warrior’s dance is of a far different character, being guided by a discipline and precision of drill to which that of the Russians themselves is loose and irregular.

They begin by smearing the whole of their clothing and by painting their faces with scarlet ochre, so as to make themselves as hideous as possible. When they assemble for the dance, they arrange themselves in lines, mostly three deep, and excite their naturally passionate disposition to the highest pitch by contorting their faces and thrusting out their tongues as an act of defiance, interspersing these gestures with shouts, yells, and challenges to the enemy. The dance itself begins with stamping the feet in perfect time with each other, the vigor of the stamp increasing continually, and the excitement increasing in similar proportion.

Suddenly, with a yell, the whole body of men leap side-ways into the air, as if actuated by one spirit, and, as they touch the ground, come down on it with a mighty stamp that makes the earth tremble. The war song is raised, and in accordance with its rhythm the men leap from side to side, each time coming down with a thud as of some huge engine. The effect of the dance upon the performers is extraordinary. It seems to make them for the time absolute maniacs, their whole nature being given up to the furious excitement of the moment. Their faces are frightfully contorted, and thus assume an absolutely demoniacal expression.

Even when war is not impending, the magic influence of the dance affects the performers as strongly as if they were close to a pah or fort of the enemy, ready for battle; and when, as is sometimes the case, the Maories give a dance in honor of a visitor, they become so furiously excited that they are quite dangerous until they have had time to cool.

On one such occasion a party of Maories who had visited a ship were requested to exhibit their war dance, and very good-naturedly did so. But in a short time their measured leaps became so vehement, and their stamps so powerful, as they shouted the martial rhymes of the war song, that they shook the whole ship as if by blows of a battering-ram; and the commanding officer, fearful that they would absolutely smash the deck, begged them to desist. His entreaties were in vain, even if they were heard, though it is very likely that, in their furious excitement, the dancers were deaf to every sound except the war song which they were yelling at the top of their voices; and the dance proceeded to its end, and did not cease until the performers were quite exhausted by the furious exertions they had made.

The most ludicrous part of the dance was the conduct of the chief. He had been treated with much attention, and presented with a full suit of naval uniform, of which he was mightily proud, and in which he stalked about the deck to the great admiration of his subjects. When he was asked whether the war dance could be given, he at once ordered his followers to accede to the request, and at first stood quietly by while they went through the performance.

The influence of the dance was, however, too contagious to be resisted, and rapidly extended itself to him. First he merely swayed his body in rhythm with the steps of the dancers, then he joined sotto voce in the song, then he began to stamp in time with them, and at last threw off all restraint, sprang into line, and leaped, yelled, and stamped as enthusiastically as any of them, splitting his new garments to pieces, and presenting a very sorry sight when his excitement had died away.

The [illustration] opposite represents a portion of a party of warriors as they appear when performing their war dance. Only the first three ranks of them are seen; but the reader must picture for himself the long lines of warriors stretching into the distance, numbering often from one to two hundred. The leading chief is seen in front, with his green jade merai in his hand; and another but inferior chief is stationed behind him. In the background is shown a portion of the pah in which the dance is taking place; a chief’s storehouse for food is seen on the right, and under the shelter of the houses are seated the women who are watching the dance.

I have already said that war is always in the thoughts of a genuine Maori. Unlike the vaporing Fiji warrior, who is always ready to boast, and seldom ready to fight, preferring to knock his enemy on the head when asleep, the Maori is a brave soldier, accustomed from his earliest childhood to deeds of war. A mimic war forms one of the favorite games of the Maori children, though it is necessarily restricted to boys. Just as boys of our country build snow castles, and attack and defend them with snow-balls, so do the young New Zealanders build miniature forts, and enact on a small scale the deeds of actual war, using light sticks instead of the merai and patu. They make their forts by erecting mounds of earth, and building the fortresses of stakes, in exact imitation of the more substantial architecture of the veritable pah.

These ingenious pahs well exemplify the whole system of Maori warfare. The two opposing parties seldom meet each other in the open ground, as is the case with European warfare; neither do they employ an irregular skirmishing fight among trees or under cover, as is the case with many savage tribes. The attacking party is sure to be very superior in numbers to their foes, and the latter, knowing that this will be the case, resort to the system of fortification, and entrench themselves in forts, or pahs.

These pahs are marvellous examples of uncivilized engineering, and are admirably adapted to the purpose which they are intended to fulfil. They are always placed in some strong situation, sometimes on the seashore, sometimes on heights, and one or two of the strongest are built on the very edge of a perpendicular precipice, so that they cannot be attacked on three sides, while the fourth can only be approached by a narrow and awkward path, along which only a few men can pass, and which can be defended by a comparatively limited number of the besieged. (See [p. 830].)

Taking one of these pahs is really a great enterprise for the natives, and before they knew the use of firearms it is wonderful that they ever took a pah at all. Many of them are indeed impregnable, and, until firearms were introduced into the colony, could bid defiance to all enemies. They were so situated that by merely rolling stones down the approach the path could be cleared of every foe. They are surrounded with trenches, and have ingenious sally-ports so constructed that the defenders can issue from unexpected parts of the fort, make a sudden attack on the assailants, and retreat through the same aperture when they have attained their purpose.

They are fenced round with very strong posts, lashed together so firmly that they are able to resist any ordinary attack. Since firearms were introduced, the Maories have modified the structure of the pahs to suit their new weapons, throwing out angles to secure a flanking fire, and filling the interior with trenches in which the defenders can lie secure from the fire of the enemy. Since they learned the terrible power of shells, the natives have learned to construct “traverses,” i. e. cross-walls in the trenches, which not only guard the inmates from the fragments of the shells, but prevent an enfilading fire from doing much damage. Rifle-pits are also constructed with singular ingenuity. One pah was remarkable for being built over a number of boiling springs, which were used as traps for the enemy when the fort was besieged.

The reader may remember the unfortunate business at the Gate Pah, at Tauranga. When taken by storm, the pah appeared to be empty and deserted, the natives having apparently escaped, according to their custom, when they found the place no longer tenable. They had, however, laid a trap, into which the assailants fell. When the latter had scattered themselves over the interior, and were quite off their guard, picking up arms, utensils, and other objects lying carelessly about, a terrific musketry fire was opened from under their very feet, the natives having constructed pits in which they hid themselves until the enemy were attracted within their range by the weapons and implements which they had laid on purpose to act as a bait. The men, who were entirely off their guard, and many of whom besides were but raw recruits, were struck with a sudden panic, and, with a few honorable exceptions, rushed out of the pah, followed and cut up by the fire of the wily foe.

THE MAORI WAR DANCE.
(See [page 846].)

Of course the repulse was but temporary; but such a stratagem as this is sufficient to show the military genius of the Maori, who, if he becomes an enemy, is one that cannot be despised with impunity. This system of taking the enemy by surprise is the usual mode of fighting among the Maories, who display wonderful ingenuity in contriving ambushes, and enticing the enemy into them. When we were first driven into war with the natives of New Zealand, we were frequently entrapped in an ambuscade; and in one case the hidden enemy were so close to our men, their dusky forms being hidden in the shadows of the bush, that many of the soldiers who escaped with life had their faces completely tattooed with grains of unburnt powder from the muskets of the enemy.

If the assailants succeed in taking the pah, a terrible massacre always ensues. Every man is killed who is capable of wielding a weapon, while the women and children are carried off to become the slaves of the conquerors—a doom from which, as I have already stated, there is no escape; the unfortunate women, their children, and any future offspring, being slaves without the possibility of release, not even their own tribe being able, according to Maori law, to interfere with the right of the captors.

The bodies of the warriors are of course reserved to be baked and eaten. Sometimes even the prisoners fall victims to the thirst for blood which characterizes these islanders; and in this respect the women are as bad as the men, if not worse. For example, the principal wife of a very great chief, named E’Hongi, was accustomed, even though blind, to murder some of the captives, when they were brought home by her formidable husband. Her own end was, however, more tragic than that of any of her victims. E’Hongi was in the habit of making long excursions to different parts of the country, in which he took his wife with him. On one of these excursions she fell sick, and had to be left behind. In consequence of her blindness, added to her debility, she was unable to act in her own defence, and a number of dogs, discovering her weakness, tore her to pieces and devoured her.

She seems, however, to have been a woman of unexceptionally strong feelings of vengeance. “She had,” writes Mr. Angas, “a little slave-girl to attend upon her, toward whom she evinced a strong attachment. The little creature was interesting and good-tempered, and her mistress was apparently so fond of her that she was spared the experience of the misery of slavery; she was only a favorite.

“Hongi returned from one of his successful expeditions of war, but had left a son upon the field of battle, and the lamentation was great. The petted slave-child laid her head upon the lap of her mistress, and poured out her share of the general sorrow. But the spirit of vengeance or of insane retribution came over the heart of the bereaved mother; and she carried the child to the water, and cruelly suffocated her in satisfaction of her selfish sorrow.”

It was not long after this incident that she met with her death. When she was left behind, a small shed was erected on poles, according to native custom, and a supply of food was placed near her. When the party returned the shed was lying prostrate, and among its ruins were the whitened bones of the inmate. It is supposed that the wind blew down the shed, and so enabled the dogs to reach her.

This same E’Hongi was a really remarkable man, and earned a great name for wisdom and courage. Having made a voyage to England, he threw all his energies into strengthening his military power, and took back with him a quantity of muskets and ammunition.

He came back to his own country exactly at the proper time. A long and somewhat desultory war had been going on between the Waikatos and other tribes, in which the former had, after many vicissitudes, been victorious, and, after finally conquering their enemies, had returned to their country in triumph.

Just then E’Hongi came back to his own tribe, the Nga Puis, distributed his firearms among the best warriors, and when he had instructed them in the use of the new and terrible weapons, entered the Waikato country, and attacked their great pah called Matuketuke. The Waikatos, having only their clubs, and not having sunk the trenches which in these days are dug in every pah that is intended to resist an assault, could not contend against firearms, and in a few minutes the fort was taken. It was in this engagement that Horomona and Te Whero-Whero were captured.

The slaughter on this occasion was terrible, two thousand warriors being killed, and their bodies eaten by the victorious tribe, who built vast numbers of ovens for the special purpose of cooking the bodies of the slain. For many years afterward the remains of the ovens, and the whitened bones of the two thousand warriors, might be seen as tokens of the terrible scene, where feasts were kept up until all the bodies had been consumed, and every evil passion of unrestrained human nature was allowed to have its full sway.

One of the very muskets which were used on this occasion, and which was given by George IV. to E’Hongi when he visited England, is now in the collection of Colonel Sir. J. E. Alexander. It is one of the regular “Brown Bess” weapons, once so dear to soldiers, and now irreverently termed a gaspipe.

Prisoners without number were captured on this occasion; and indeed the supply of slaves thus obtained so far exceeded the demand for them, that the Nga Puis killed many of them on their journey home, merely to rid themselves of them. E’ Hongi, though known to be a man of the most determined courage, not to say ferocity, when engaged in war, and rather disposed to behave in an overbearing manner toward those whom he considered as his inferiors, was at the same time peculiarly mild and courteous in his demeanor to his equals, and toward strangers was remarkable for his gentle courtesy.

There was another very celebrated chief of a somewhat similar name, Hongi-Hongi, who has sometimes been confounded with his great predecessor. One feat of this warrior is so characteristic that it deserves mention. He was leading an attack on a pah near Mount Egmont, captured it, and, according to custom, killed the warriors, and took the rest of the inmates as his slaves. Sixty of these unfortunate beings fell to the share of Hongi, who drove them like a flock of sheep, with his green jade merai, all the way to his home, a distance of one hundred and eighty miles.

This chief was proof against the missionaries of all kinds. Mr. Angas once asked him whether he was a mihanari, i. e. a Protestant convert, or a pikopo, i. e. a Roman Catholic. Hongi denied that he was either one or the other, and confessed with glee that he was a revera, or devil, i. e. that he still remained a heathen.

It is very unfortunate that intolerance in religious matters has been fostered by those who ought to have made it their business to repress any such feeling. The consequence is, that the Protestant converts regard their Roman Catholic brethren as reveras, or devils, while the latter have allied themselves with their acknowledged heathen countrymen; and thus, under the pretence of religion, the customary feuds are kept up with perhaps even additional bitterness.

I have the pleasure of presenting to the reader, on the 820th page, a [portrait] of Hongi-Hongi, as he appeared in the year 1844, dressed in his full panoply of war costume. This, of course, would be doffed before he went into actual fight. In his ear is one of the green jade ornaments which have already been described, and in his right hand he bears his merai, the celebrated weapon with which he drove the slaves before him. He is represented as standing just inside the wall of his pah, a position which he insisted on taking up, and having his portrait drawn to send to the Queen of England. In fact, he was so decided on this point, that he refused to let Mr. Angas leave the pah until the portrait was completed. The portion of the pah which is shown in the [illustration] gives a good idea of this kind of fortification, the enormous posts with their circular tops being sunk deeply into the ground, and smaller posts placed between them; a horizontal pole is laid across them; and the whole is firmly lashed together, either with the ordinary phormium rope, or with the stem of the wild vine.

Warfare among the Maories, fierce and relentless as it may be in some particulars, is not devoid of a sort of chivalry which somewhat relieves it from its more ferocious aspect. There is, for example, a well-known code of military etiquette which is sometimes exhibited in a mode that to us seems rather ludicrous.

For example, the Waikatos and Taranaki tribes were at war as usual, and the Waikato were besieging a pah belonging to their enemies. The pah, however, was too strong for them; and moreover the defenders had contrived to get hold of several guns belonging to a vessel that had been wrecked on the shore, and had induced some Europeans to mount and work them, which they did with such success that the Waikatos were forced at last to abandon the siege.

But, in the very midst of the contest, a vessel appeared in the offing, and a truce was immediately concluded in order to allow both parties to trade. Accordingly, both the besiegers and besieged set off amicably to the vessel, and, having completed their bargains, returned to resume their hostilities. A very amusing scene then occurred. The Taranakis, who were the besieged party, had much the best of the trading, as they possessed a large quantity of dressed flax, or phormium, and exchanged it for a quantity of tobacco.

Now tobacco is one of the greatest luxuries that a New Zealander can possess; and unfortunately for the besieging Waikatos, they had no tobacco. They had, however, a plentiful supply of muskets, which they had taken in an attack upon another pah, while the besieged were very short of arms. So they struck up a trade, the Waikatos being so inordinately desirous of obtaining tobacco, that they gave in return fire-arms which were to be turned against themselves.

“The scene,” writes Mr. Angas, “as described by an eye-witness, must have been most ludicrous. The Waikato thrust his musket half-way through the palisades of the pah, retaining, however, a firm hold of his property until the intending purchaser from within thrust out in a similar manner the quantity of tobacco he was willing to give; neither party relinquishing his hold of the property about to change hands until he had secured a firm grasp of that offered by his adversary.”

The chief who led the Waikatos on this occasion was the celebrated Wiremu Nera, or William Taylor; the former name being the nearest approach that the Maories can make to the proper pronunciation. His Maori name was Te Awaitaia, and he was widely celebrated for his dauntless courage and his generalship in conducting or resisting an attack. Being closely allied with the famous chief Te Whero-Whero (or Potatau), he was engaged in nearly all the combats between the Waikatos and the Taranakis. On one of his warlike expeditions he took a pah containing nearly eighteen hundred inhabitants, and, of course, killed nearly all of them, and carried the survivors as slaves into the Waikato district.

Latterly, he embraced Christianity, and became as zealous in the cause of peace as he had been in that of war. When he became a Christian, Te Whero-Whero was so well aware of his value as a warrior, that he exclaimed to those who brought him the news, “I have lost my right arm!”

Although repulsed on this occasion by the three guns taken from the wrecked ship, the Waikatos were not discouraged, and made a second attack. The Taranakis, however, had seen too much of Waikato courage to risk a second siege, and so quietly made off, some two thousand in number, accompanied by the Europeans who had served the guns for them. The latter very rightly spiked the guns when they left the pah, so that when the Waikatos came again and took the pah, they found it deserted, and the guns useless to the captors.

The Taranakis lived in deadly fear of the powerful and warlike Waikatos, and, but for the love which they felt toward their native country, would have fled, and left the conquerors to take quiet possession. They were even obliged to have their plantations in the bush, where none but the owner could find them; for they feared, and with reason, that if their dreaded enemies could discover the sources whence their provisions were obtained, they would destroy the whole plantation, and leave their victims to starve. They were in such a state of nervous alarm about a suspected invasion by their powerful neighbors, that on one occasion, when a fire was seen in the distance, every one took it for granted to be a fire lighted by the Waikatos, and in consequence every one kept awake all night, ready to give the alarm at the first unwonted sight or sound.

Among the New Zealanders is a custom of retaliation which is found with but little variation in many parts of the world. If blood has been shed, the friends of the dead man issue from the pah, with the determination of killing the first person whom they may happen to meet. Should he belong to an inimical tribe, so much the better; should he belong to the same tribe, so much the worse; for in either case he is killed. On such an occasion one of the avengers would be bound to kill his own brother, should he happen to be the first man who came in the way of the party.

Such an exercise of vengeance is rather an inconvenient one to those who are engaged in it; for they are forbidden the use of their ordinary comforts, they may not eat any food except that which is indigenous to New Zealand, and, above all, they are not allowed to smoke. When, therefore they have been unable to find any human being whom they can sacrifice, the aid of the priest, or tohunga, is called in. He pulls up a tuft of grass, and, after repeating one of the many incantations which abound in New Zealand lore, and of which neither the hearers nor the reciter understand one word in ten, he throws the grass into the nearest stream, in token that the avengers are released from their vow. Blood, however, must still be shed; but after this ceremony has been performed, the blood of any living thing, even though it be a bird, is held sufficient to satisfy the traditional custom of the Maori race.

Elaborate rites closely allied with this ceremony are employed both before and after battle; but, as they belong rather to the subject of religion than of war, we will postpone them for the present.

As the New Zealanders know that it is a point of military honor combined with personal gratification to eat the bodies of slain enemies, they are equally desirous of securing the bodies of their foes and of carrying off those who have fallen on their own side; and in many instances the anxiety to save those who have fallen has caused others to share the same fate while attempting to carry off their dead or wounded comrades.

CHAPTER LXXXIV.
NEW ZEALAND—Continued.
CANOES.

THE CANOE, AND ITS USES IN PEACE AND WAR — THE COMMON TRADING CANOE — SKILL OF THE BOATMEN — THE LARGE WAR CANOES, AND MODE OF BUILDING THEM — DECORATIONS OF THE CANOES — SKILFUL CARVINGS — THE THEORY OF THE VARIOUS PATTERNS — NAMES OF CANOES — MANAGEMENT OF THE SAIL — CANOE SONGS — A COMPLETE BOAT-LOAD — MODE OF LANDING — SHAPE OF THE PADDLES, AND MODE OF USING THEM — CARVING TOOLS — SUPPOSED COMPASSES.

War is carried on quite as much by water as by land, and a chief who knows the principles of good generalship always uses the sea as well as the land to serve as a basis for his attack. For this reason the Maories take care to build their pahs in spots where they are well defended from attack both on the seaward and the landward side. Some of them are on the very verge of high-water mark, while others are perched on the tops of cliffs, the base of which is washed by the waves.

One of the most picturesque of these is a pah situate near Mount Egmont, and known by the name of the Waimate Pah. There is a cliff that rises perpendicularly some four or five hundred feet above the level of the water which laves its foot, and on the very summit of this cliff is situated the pah in question. It is of considerable size, containing many houses and is fortified with the usual wooden fence. In order to render it as nearly as possible impregnable, the only approach is by a very narrow and very steep path, that cannot be ascended except by people who have strong heads, the path being so narrow, so steep, and so dangerous that two men could defend it against fifty.

In his warlike expeditions E’Hongi made great use of his canoes, taking them inland as far as they would go, and then having them dragged over land to the next river.

These canoes play so important a part in the life of a New Zealander, whether in war or peace, that they require a detailed description. The canoes are of several kinds, according to the work which they have to perform. The simplest form of the New Zealander’s canoe is little more than a trunk of a tree hollowed into a sort of trough. Being incapable of withstanding rough weather, this canoe is only used upon rivers. Some of these canoes, which are called by the name of kaupapas, are from forty to fifty feet in length, and in the widest part not exceeding a yard in “beam.” A plentiful supply of fern leaves is laid at the bottom of the canoe, and upon these the passengers recline. Canoes of a similar character, called tiwai, are used in the inland lakes, and sit so low in the water that they appear to have no gunwale.

Owing to their want of beam, these canoes are as easily upset as the slight skiffs in which races are rowed on English rivers. The agile Maori, accustomed from childhood to balance himself in these crank vessels, traverses them with ease and security, but an European generally upsets four or five canoes before he learns how to enter or leave them properly. The natives manage these canoes with wonderful skill, and, apparently regardless of the risk of capsizing the canoe, dash their paddles into the water with furious energy, driving up spray on all sides, and making the canoe and its rowers look at a distance like some gigantic centipede dashing through the water.

The vessels, however, of which the Maories are most fond, and on which they expend the most labor, are the large canoes in which the warriors embark when on a campaign. Those canoes are made from the cowrie pine (the same tree which furnishes the aromatic gum already mentioned); and the tree being a very large one, the natives are able to make their canoes of considerable size. Some of these canoes are upward of eighty feet in length and in consequence are able to carry a great number of warriors.

They are built in rather an elaborate manner. First the trough-like vessel is formed from the tree trunk; and if it were left in that state, it would be simply a very large kaupapa. As, however, it is intended for sea voyages, and may have to endure rough weather; it is much wider in proportion than the boat which is only used on rivers, and is, moreover, rendered more seaworthy by gunwales. These are made separately, and are lashed firmly to the sides of the boat by the ordinary flax ropes.

Both the head and stern of the canoe are decorated with carving, exactly similar in character to the specimens of native art which have already been described. They are pierced with the most elaborate patterns, which have as their basis the contour of the human countenance and the semi-spiral curve. Perhaps a single canoe head will have fifty or sixty human faces on it, each with the tongue protruded, with the cheeks and forehead covered with tattooed lines, and with a pair of goggle eyes made of the haliotis shell. The mode which a native adopts when carving these elaborate patterns is as follows:

After shaping out the general form of the article to be carved, he fixes on some part which he thinks will be suitable for the purpose, and carves a human head upon it. When this is completed, he pitches upon a second spot at some distance from the first, and carves another head, proceeding in this way until he has carved as many heads as he thinks the pattern will require.

He next furnishes the heads with bodies and limbs, which are always represented in a very squat and ungainly manner, and fills in the vacant spaces with the beautiful curved lines which he loves so well to draw and carve. The minute elaboration of some of these war canoes is so intricate that it baffles all power of description, and nothing but a well executed photograph could give a correct idea of the beauty of the workmanship. It is a marvellous example of the development of art under difficulties. It is quite unique in its character, so that no one who is acquainted with the subject can for a moment mistake a piece of New Zealand carving for that of any other country.

Besides carving the canoes, the Maori paints them with vermilion in token of their warlike object, and decorates them profusely with bunches of feathers and dog’s hair, just like the tufts which are attached to the patu. When the canoes are not wanted, they are drawn up on shore, and are thatched in order to save them from the weather.

Like more civilized nations, the New Zealanders give names to their canoes, and seem to delight in selecting the most sonorous titles that they can invent. For example, one canoe is called Maratuhai, i. e. Devouring Fire; and others have names that coincide almost exactly with our Invincibles, Terribles, Thunderers, and the like.

These boats are furnished with a very remarkable sail made of the raupo rush. It is small in proportion to the size of the vessel, is triangular in shape, and is so arranged that it can be raised or lowered almost in a moment. They are better sailors than would be imagined from their appearance, and run wonderfully close to the wind.

Sometimes from fifty to sixty men paddle in one of these war canoes, singing songs in time to the stroke, and guided both in song and stroke by a conductor who stands in the middle of the canoe, prompting the words of the song, and beating time for the paddlers with a staff which he holds in his hand. Owing to the power of the water in reflecting sound, the measured chant of the paddle-song can be heard on a river long before the canoe comes in sight.

Mr. Angas gives an interesting account of a journey in a Maori canoe. After mentioning that the vessel was so deeply laden that its sides were not more than two inches above the water, he proceeds as follows: “The paddles were plied with great spirit; the exertions of the natives being stimulated by the animated shouting song kept up incessantly by the one or other of the party. At length the splashing was so violent that we became nearly drenched, and on requesting the Maori before us to throw less water in our faces, he replied with a proverb common among them, that ‘No one is dry who travels with the Waikatos,’ meaning that the people of this tribe excel all others in the speed and dexterity with which they manage their canoes.

“Our natives were in excellent spirits. They had been on a long journey to Auckland, where they had seen the pakeha (white man, or stranger) in his settlement, and had witnessed many sights of civilization to which they were previously strangers. They had also purchased articles of European manufacture, and longing to return home to the peaceful banks of the Waipa, to present them to their friends as tokens of their regard. Their wild, deafening songs, with their heads all undulating at every stroke, the contortions of their eyes, and their bare, tawny shoulders, finely developing their muscles as they all dashed their paddles simultaneously into the water, rendered the scene at once novel and animating.

“The canoe songs are generally improvised, and frequently have reference to passing objects. Such ejaculations as the following were uttered by our companions at the highest pitch of their voices, ‘Pull away! Pull away! Pull away!’ ‘Dig into the water!’ ‘Break your backs,’ &c. From the prow of one of the canoes a native flute sounded plaintively. This is a very rude and imperfect instrument, and they do not play it with any degree of skill, it having only two or three notes.” The flute in question is that which is made of human bone, and has been described on a previous page. It is played by placing the orifice against one nostril, and stopping the other with the finger.

When the natives proceed on a journey in their canoes, they are so sure of their own skill and management that they overload them to a degree which would cause an immediate capsize in most countries. One chief, named Wirihona, who was travelling with his family, afforded a curious example of overloading a boat with impunity. The canoe was delicate and frail, and in the bow sat a little boy with a small fire kept between two pieces of bark. In the fore part of the canoe, where it was narrow, sat the younger children, the adult members of the family being placed in the middle, where the boat was widest. Toward the stern came another batch of young children, and on the stern, which projects over the water, sat Wirihona himself, steering the vessel with his paddle.

The canoe in which were Mr. Angas and his companions was, as the reader may recollect, so laden that her gunwale barely rose two inches above the surface. As long as they were paddling along the narrower and more sheltered parts of the river, all went smoothly enough, though the deeply-laden state of the crank boat gave cause for uneasiness. At last, however, they came to some wide and open reaches exposed to the wind, and had, moreover, to cross the current diagonally.

“The wind blew violently, and meeting the current, caused an unpleasant sea in the middle channel of the river. Our heavily-laden canoe was not fitted to encounter anything beyond still water; and, as our natives related to each other where this and that canoe were upset, they dashed their paddles into the water with all their energy, and our bark was soon in the midst of the terrible current. We were every moment in imminent danger of being swamped; the water rushed in on both sides; and nothing but the extreme swiftness with which we glided through the current prevented us from filling.

“As the canoe dashed against the opposite shore, our natives gave a loud shout and commenced bailing out the water, which we had shipped in great quantities, with a tatau or scoop. We now looked anxiously toward the second canoe, and watched them literally pulling for their lives, splashing and dashing with the utmost vehemence. The frail bark appeared almost swallowed up by the angry stream, but she glided securely through it, and the drenched chief and his family repeated the sound of welcome to the opposite shore, as their canoe also dashed in safety against its banks.”

The paddles with which the Maories propel their canoes are curious-looking implements, and are so formed that they will answer almost equally well as paddles or weapons. Indeed, it is not unlikely that their peculiar shape was given to them for this very reason. In the [illustration No. 1], on page 881, are seen two examples of the New Zealand paddle, both being drawn from specimens in my collection, and being useful as showing the typical form of the implement.

They are rather more than five feet in length, and have very long blades which are leaf-shaped and sharply pointed at the tips, so that a thrust from one of these paddles would be quite as dangerous as if it were made with the butt of the patu. The blade, too, is sharp at the edges, and, being made of rather heavy wood, is capable of splitting a man’s skull as effectually as if it had been the short merai.

In one of these paddles the handle is curved in a peculiar manner, while in the other it is straight, and forms a continuation of the blade. The former of these implements is quite plain, and even at the end of the handle there is no carving, while the latter is liberally adorned with patterns both on the blade and handle, and at their junction there is the inevitable human figure with the protruding tongue, the goggle eyes, and the generally aggressive expression that characterizes all such figures. None of the New Zealand paddles are adorned with the minute and elaborate carving which is found upon the paddles of several of the Polynesian islands. The carving of the New Zealanders is of a far different and much bolder character; and, instead of covering his paddle with small patterns repeated some hundreds of times, the Maori carves nothing but bold, sweeping curves and imitations of the human face.

As far as is known, the Maori carver makes no use of measuring tools, doing all his work by the eye alone. He does not even use compasses in describing his circles; and in consequence, whenever he carves, as is often the case, a number of concentric circles on a rafter or beam, the circles are quite undeserving of the name, and always tend rather to an irregular oval form.

There is in my collection a remarkable instrument, presented to me by C. Heaton, Esq. It bears a label with the following inscription, “A New Zealand Compass, by which the natives turn the volute in their carving.” In shape it resembles one half of a parenthesis

, and is armed at each point with a shark’s tooth, which is inserted into a groove, and then lashed firmly with a cord passing through holes bored in the tooth and through the semicircular handle. It is made of the same wood as the paddle. Having, as I have already stated, abundant reason to distrust the accuracy of labels, and thinking that the curves of New Zealand carving did not possess the regularity which would accompany them had they been sketched out by an instrument, I showed the tool to several observant travellers who have spent much time in New Zealand, and asked them if they recognized it. None of them had seen the implement. Mr. Christie, who gave much attention to the manufactures of New Zealand, knew nothing about it, and Mr. Angas, who visited the island for the express purpose of collecting information respecting the Maories, and to whose pen I am indebted for nearly all the illustrations of the life and manners of the New Zealanders, had never seen or heard of such a tool. I possess many specimens of New Zealand carving, and have seen many others, together with a great number of photographs, and in no case have I noticed a single circle or portion of a circle that was regular enough to have been drawn by the aid of compasses.

I even doubt whether this article was made in New Zealand at all, and am inclined to think that it belongs to the Tonga or the Kingsmill Islands. As to its use, I have no opinion.

In propelling these canoes, the New Zealander holds his paddle in both hands, and always keeps it on the same side of the vessel, being balanced by a companion on the other side. He employs no rowlock, but uses one hand as a fulcrum near the blade, while the other holds the handle nearer the tip. The boat is steered by means of a large paddle in the stern.

CHAPTER LXXXV.
NEW ZEALAND—Continued.
RELIGION.

THE GOOD AND EVIL INFLUENCES — THE LIZARD ATUAS — ALARM OF THE CHIEF — MAORI PRAYERS — DIFFICULTY IN TRANSLATING THEM — THE SACRED LANGUAGE — THE TOHUNGAS, OR PRIESTS — BELIEF IN THE FUTURE STATE — THE SACRED BRANCH — THE MALEVOLENT SPIRITS — HAUNTED MOUNTAINS — THE TIKIS, OR SUPPOSED IDOLS OF THE MAORIES — SOME GIGANTIC WOODEN TIKIS — BELIEF IN WITCHCRAFT — FATE OF A WITCH — COUNTRY OF THE WIZARDS — INCANTATION OVER THE SICK — MAORI ANATOMISTS.

We now come to the religion of the Maories. This is a curious mixture of simplicity and elaboration, having the usual superstitions common to all savage tribes, and being complicated with the remarkable system of “tapu,” or “taboo,” as the word is sometimes spelt.

Of real religion they have no idea, and, so far as is known, even their superstitions lack that infusion of sublimity which distinguishes the religious system of many savage nations. They have a sort of indefinite belief in a good and evil influence; the former going by the generic name of Atua, and the latter of Wairua. Now, Atua is a word that has a peculiar significance of its own. It may signify the Divine Essence, or it may be applied to any object which is considered as a visible representative of that essence.

Thus, if a Maori wishes to speak of God, he would use the word Atua. But he would equally apply it to a lizard, a bird, a sun-ray, or a cloud. There is one species of lizard, of a lovely green color, called by the natives kakariki, which is held in the greatest veneration as a living representative of divinity, and is in consequence always dreaded as an atua. The belief which the natives hold on this subject is well shown by an anecdote told by Mr. Angas.

“The following incident will show how deeply the belief in witchcraft and the supposed influence of the atuas obtains among those who are still heathens. The missionary was shown some small green lizards preserved in a phial of spirits, Muriwenua and another man being in the room. We forgot at the moment that the little creatures in the phial were atuas, or gods, according to the superstitious belief of Maori polytheism, and inadvertently showed them to the man at the table.

“No sooner did he perceive the atuas than his Herculean frame shrank back as from a mortal wound, and his face displayed signs of extreme horror. The old chief, on discovering the cause, cried out, ‘I shall die! I shall die!’ and crawled away on his hands and knees; while the other man stood as a defence between the chief and the atuas, changing his position so as to form a kind of shield, till Muriwenua was out of the influence of their supposed power. It was a dangerous mistake to exhibit these atuas, for the chief is very old, and in the course of nature cannot live long, and, if he dies shortly, his death will certainly be ascribed to the baneful sight of the lizard gods, and I shall be accused of makutu or witchcraft.” In connection with this superstition about the lizard, the same traveller mentions a curious notion which prevails regarding a spider.

“On the beach of the west coast is found a small, black, and very venomous spider, called katipo by the natives. Its bite is exceedingly painful, and even dangerous, and the natives think that if the katipo bites a man and escapes, the man will die. But if he contrives to catch the spider, and makes a circle of fire round it so that it perishes in the flames, then the man recovers as the spider dies.”

The extent to which the imagination of the natives is excited by their fear of witchcraft is scarcely credible. There was one woman named Eko, who was the most celebrated witch of the Waikato district. She exercised extraordinary influence over the minds of the people, who looked upon her as a superior being. On one occasion, when angry with a man, she told him that she had taken out his heart. The man entirely believed her, and died from sheer terror.

Objects which they cannot understand are often considered by the Maories as atuas. Thus a compass is an atua, because it points in one direction, and directs the traveller by its invisible power. A barometer is an atua, because it foretells the weather. A watch is an atua, on account of the perpetual ticking and moving of the hands. Fire-arms used to be atuas until they came into common use, and lost the mystery which was at first attached to them.

Yet the Maori never addresses his prayers to any of these visible objects, but always to the invisible Atua of whom these are but the representatives. The prayers are almost entirely made by the priests or tohungas, and are a set form of words known only to the priests and those whom they instruct. The meaning of the prayers is often uncertain, owing to the obsolete words which are profusely employed in them, and of which, indeed, the prayer almost entirely consists. Prayers, or incantations, as they may perhaps be called with more precision, are made on almost every occasion of life, however trivial, and whether the Maori desires safety in a battle, a favorable wind when on the water, success in a campaign, or good luck in fishing, the tohunga is called upon to repeat the appropriate prayer. Many of these prayers or incantations have been preserved by Dr. Dieffenbach and others. One of these prayers, which can be more correctly translated than many of them, is uttered at the offering of a pigeon. It is designated as “A prayer that the pigeon may be pure, that it may be very fat: when the fire burns, the prayer is said.”

“When it is lighted, when it is lighted, the sacred fire, O Tiki! When it burns on the sacred morning, O give, O give, O Tiki, the fat. It burns for thee the fat of the pigeon; for thee the fat of the owl; for thee the fat of the parrot; for thee the fat of the flycatcher; for thee the fat of the thrush. A water of eels; where is its spring? Its spring is in heaven; sprinkle, give, be it poured out.”

Offerings of food are common rites of Maori native worship, and offerings are made of both vegetable and animal food. It is much to be regretted that very many of the ancient religious rites of the New Zealanders have perished, and that they have been entirely forgotten by the present generation. Such a loss as this can never be replaced, and the fact that it has occurred ought to make us the more careful in rescuing from speedy oblivion the expiring religious customs of other uncivilized nations.

Prayers, such as have been mentioned, are handed down by the tohungas or priests from father to son, and the youths undergo a long course of instruction before they can take rank among the priests. Dr. Dieffenbach was once fortunate enough to witness a portion of this instruction. “I was present at one of the lessons. An old priest was sitting under a tree, and at his feet was a boy, his relative, who listened attentively to the repetition of certain words, which seemed to have no meaning, but which it must have required a good memory to retain in their due order. At the old tohunga’s side was part of a man’s skull filled with water. Into this from time to time he dipped a green branch, which he moved over the boy’s head. At my approach the old man smiled, as if to say. ‘See how clever I am,’ and continued his abracadabra.

“I have been assured by the missionaries that many of these prayers have no meaning; but this I am greatly inclined to doubt. The words of the prayers are perhaps the remains of a language now forgotten; or, what is more probable, we find here what has existed among most of the nations of antiquity, even the most civilized, viz: that religious mysteries were confined to a certain class of men, who kept them concealed from the profanum vulgus, or communicated only such portions of them as they thought fit.

“They often had a sacred symbolic language, the knowledge of which was confined to the priesthood, as, for instance, the Egyptian hieroglyphics and the Sanscrit; or, if we look nearer home, we find the religion of Thor, Odin, and Freya enveloped in a poetical mythos, which has for its foundation deep and grand philosophical conceptions of morals and ethics.”

It is a rather curious fact that, contrary to the usual custom of heathen priests, the tohungas did not oppose the Christian missionaries, but were among the first to receive the new religion. Some of them seem to have received it too hastily and without sufficient knowledge of its principles, as we see from the miserable travesty of Christianity which has sprung up of late years among the Maories, and which is in New Zealand what the system of Taeping is in China.

The priests are, as a rule, the most expert artists and woodcarvers in the country; so that the word “tohunga” is often applied by the natives to a man who is skilful in any art, no matter whether he be a priest or not.

The [illustration No. 1], on the 860th page, is a portrait of a very celebrated tohunga, taken by Mr. Angas in 1844. His name was Te Ohu. The portrait was obtained during a great meeting of chiefs at Aluahu. Te Ohu distinguished himself greatly on this occasion, running about after the fashion of Maori orators, shaking his long and grizzled locks from side to side, stamping furiously on the ground, and uttering his speech in a singularly deep and sonorous voice.

In the background of the sketch may be seen two remarkable articles. The one, which is the half of a canoe, stuck upright in the ground, marks the grave of a deceased chief; and the other is a pole, on which are hung a calabash of water and a basket of food, with which the spirit of the dead can refresh himself when he returns to visit the scene of his lifetime. Sometimes a dish of cooked pigeons is added; and in one case a model of a canoe, with its sail and paddles, was placed on the tomb, as a conveyance for the soul of the departed when he wished to cross the waters which lead to the eternal abodes of the spirit.

Concerning the state of the spirit after the death of the body the Maories seem to have very vague ideas. The sum of their notions on this subject is as follows:—They believe that the spirit of man is immortal, and that when it leaves the body it goes to the Reinga, or place of departed spirits. Shooting and falling stars are thought to be the souls of men going to this place. The entrance to the Reinga is down the face of a rocky cliff at Cape Maria Van Diemen. Lest the spirit should hurt itself by falling down this precipice, there is a very old tree which grows there, on which the spirits break their fall. One particular branch was pointed out as being the portion of the tree on which the spirits alighted.

One of the missionaries cut off this branch, and in consequence the natives do not regard it with quite so much awe as they did in former days. Still Dr. Dieffenbach remarks that, when he visited the islands, they held the spot in great veneration, and not even the Christian natives would go near it.

All spirits do not enter the Reinga in the same manner, those of chiefs ascending first the upper heavens, where they leave the left eye, which becomes a new star. For this reason, if a chief is killed in war, his left eye is eaten by the chief of the victorious party, who thinks that he has thus incorporated into his own being the courage, skill, and wisdom of the dead man.

Spirits are not considered as imprisoned in the Reinga, but are able to leave it when they please, and to return to the scene of their former life. They can also hold converse with their friends and relatives, but only through the tohungas. Sometimes, but very rarely, the tohunga sees the spirit; and even then it is only visible as a sunbeam or a shadow. The voice of the spirit is a sort of low whistling sound, like a slight breeze, and is sometimes heard by others beside the tohunga. He, however, is the only one who can understand the mysterious voice and can interpret the wishes of the dead to the living.

As to the life led by departed spirits, the Maories seem to have no idea; neither do they seem to care. They have a notion that in Reinga the kumeras, or sweet potatoes, abound; but beyond that tradition they appear to know nothing.

As to the malevolent spirits, or wairuas, the same cloudy indefiniteness of ideas seems to prevail. The word wairua signifies either the soul or a dream, and is mostly used to signify the spirit of some deceased person who desires to act malevolently toward the living. Such spirits are supposed to haunt certain spots, which are in consequence avoided by the New Zealander. Mountains are especial objects of his veneration, and those which are lofty enough to have their tops covered with perpetual snow are specially feared. He fancies that they are inhabited by strange and monstrous animals, that fierce birds of huge size sit continually on their whitened tops, and that every breeze which blows from them is the voice of the spirit which haunts it.

In consequence of these superstitions, the natives can no more be induced to ascend one of these mountains than to approach a burial ground. They have a curious legend about the Tongariro and Mount Egmont, saying that they were originally brother and sister, and lived together, but that they afterward quarrelled and separated. There is another strange legend of a spot near Mount Egmont. Owing to the nature of the ground, a strong chemical action is constantly taking place, which gives out great quantities of sulphuretted hydrogen gas. The natives say that in former days an Atua was drowned near the spot, and that ever since that time his body has been decomposing.

As to the idols of the New Zealanders, it is very doubtful whether they ever existed. There are, it is true, many representations of the human form, which are popularly supposed to be idols. It was formerly supposed that the green jade ornaments, called “tikis,” which are worn suspended from the neck, were idols; but it is now known that they are merely ornaments, deriving their sole value from being handed down from one generation to another.

Three examples of the so-called idols are here given. [One of them] is remarkable for its gigantic proportions and curious shape. It is about sixteen feet in height, and instead of consisting of a single human figure, as is usually the case, the enormous block of wood is carved into the semblance of two figures, one above the other. This arrangement is not uncommon in New Zealand, and is found also in Western Africa. I possess a walking staff of both countries, which are composed of several human figures, each upon the other’s head. The New Zealand staff will be presently described and figured.

(1.) TE OHU, A NATIVE PRIEST.
(See [page 857].)

(2.) A TIKI AT RAOERA PAH.
(See [page 861].)

(3.) TIKI FROM WHAKAPOKOKO.
(See [page 861].)

This [gigantic tiki] stands, together with several others, near the tomb of the daughter of Te Whero-Whero, and, like the monument which it seems as it were to guard, is one of the finest examples of native carving to be found in New Zealand. The precise object of the tiki is uncertain; but the protruding tongue of the upper figure seems to show that it is one of the numerous defiant statues which abound in the islands. The natives say that the lower figure represents Maui, the Atua who, according to Maori tradition, fished up the islands from the bottom of the sea.

As may be seen in the [illustration No. 2], on the preceding page, nearly the whole of both figures is carved with most elaborate curved patterns, which descend over the arms, and adorn those parts of the statue which do duty for hips. A portion of the paling of Raroera Pah is seen in the background, and around the tiki grow many plants of the phormium, or New Zealand flax.

Near this wonderful and mysterious piece of carving stand several others, all of the ordinary type. Two such tikis are shown in the [illustration No. 3], opposite, drawn from sketches taken at Whakapokoko. Although not quite so large as the double tiki of Raroera, they are of very great size, as may be seen by contrasting them with the figure of the woman who is standing by one of them.

The firmest belief in witchcraft prevails in New Zealand, though not to such an extent as in many parts of Africa. In cases of illness for which no ordinary cause can be discovered, especially if the patient be of high rank, “makuta,” or witchcraft, is always suspected. If a chief, for example, fancies that he has been bewitched, he thinks over the names of those who are likely to have a spite against him, and pitches upon some unfortunate individual, who is thereby doomed to death. One curious example of such a murder is related by Mr. Angas.

He met a party of natives, who told him that a woman, a relation of the chief Ngawaka, had been shot by another chief, who suspected that she had bewitched his son. The young man had been taken ill, and, though the woman in question did her best to cure him, he died. His father took it into his head that she had killed him by her incantations, and, after loading his musket with a stick, shot her through the body. As, however, she was the relation of Ngawaka, it was expected that the chief would demand compensation for her death, and that the murderer would have to pay a very heavy sum. This sort of compensation is called “taua.”

There are several modes of witchcraft; but that which is most practised is performed by digging a hole in the ground and invoking the spirit of the person who is to be bewitched. After the incantations are said, the invoked spirit appears above the hole like a flickering light, and is then solemnly cursed by the witch. Sometimes, instead of digging a hole, the witch goes by night to the river bank, and there invokes the spirit, who appears as a flame of fire on the opposite bank.

Dr. Dieffenbach gives rather a curious account of a district named Urewera, which is supposed to be the special abode of witches. It is situated in the northern island, between Taupo and Hawkes’ Bay, and consists of steep and barren hills. The inhabitants of this district are few and scattered, and have the reputation of being the greatest witches in the country.

“They are much feared, and have little connection with the neighboring tribes, who avoid them, if possible. If they come to the coast, the natives there scarcely venture to refuse them anything, for fear of incurring their displeasure. They are said to use the saliva of the people whom they intend to bewitch, and visitors carefully conceal it, to give them no opportunity of working them evil. Like our witches and sorcerers of old, they appear to be a very harmless people, and but little mixed up with the quarrels of their neighbors.

“It is a curious fact that many of the old settlers in the country have become complete converts to the belief in these supernatural powers. Witchcraft has been the cause of many murders: a few days before I arrived at Aotea, on the western coast, three had been committed, in consequence of people declaring on their deathbeds that they had been bewitched....

“It is another curious fact, which has been noticed in Tahiti, Hawaii, and the islands inhabited by the great Polynesian race, that their first intercourse with Europeans produces civil wars and social degradation, but that a change of ideas is quickly introduced, and that the most ancient and deeply-rooted prejudices soon become a subject of ridicule to the natives, and are abolished at once. The grey priest, or tohunga, deeply versed in all the mysteries of witchcraft and native medical treatment, gives way in his attendance on the sick to every European who pretends to a knowledge of the science of surgery or medicine, and derides the former credulity of his patient.

“If a chief or his wife fall sick, the most influential tohunga, or a woman who has the odor of sanctity, attends, and continues day and night with the patient, sometimes repeating incantations over him, and sometimes sitting before the house and praying. The following is an incantation which is said by the priest as a cure for headache. He pulls out two stalks of the Pteris esculenta, from which the fibres of the root must be removed, and, beating them together over the head of the patient, says this chant.”—The chant in question is as unintelligible as those which have already been mentioned. Its title is “A prayer for the dead (i. e. the sick man) when his head aches: to Atua this prayer is prayed, that he, the sick man, may become well.”

When a chief is ill, his relations assemble near the house and all weep bitterly, the patient taking his part in the general sorrowing; and when all the weeping and mourning has been got out of one village, the patient is often carried to another, where the whole business is gone over again. Should the sick person be of an inferior class, he goes off to the bush, and remains there until he is well again, choosing the neighborhood of a hot spring if he can find one, or, if no such spring is at hand, infusing certain herbs in boiling water and inhaling the steam.

As may be imagined from the practice which they have in cutting up the dead for their cannibal feasts, the Maories are good practical anatomists, and know well the position of all the principal organs and vessels of the body. Consequently, they can operate in cases of danger, using sharp-edged shells if they have no knives. They can also set broken limbs well, bringing the broken surfaces together, binding the limb with splints, laying it on a soft pillow, and surrounding it with a wickerwork contrivance in order to guard it against injury.

CHAPTER LXXXVI.
NEW ZEALAND—Continued.
THE TAPU.

THE TAPU, OR LAW OF PROHIBITION — TAPU A SUBSTITUTE FOR GOVERNMENT — PROTECTION TO PROPERTY AND MORALS — ABUSE OF THE TAPU — THE CHIEF AND THE SAILOR — THE CHIEF AND HIS MAT — A VALUABLE SPLINTER — THE HEAD OF THE CHIEF — AN UNLUCKY MISTAKE — HOW TAONUI GOT HIS ARMOR — HAIR CUTTING — TROUBLES OF AN ARTIST — THE CARVED HEAD — TE-WHERO-WHERO AND HIS PORTRAIT — THE TAPU MOUNTAIN — BANEFUL EFFECTS OF THE TAPU ON NATIVE ART — DESTRUCTION OF THE PAHS AND HOUSES — THE TERMINABLE TAPU — THE BATTLE-TAPU — TAKING OFF THE TAPU — DUTY OF THE TOHUNGA — THE TAPU THE STRENGTH OF THE CHIEFS.

We now come naturally to the custom of Tapu or Taboo, that extraordinary system which extends throughout the whole of Polynesia, modified slightly according to the locality in which it exists.

The general bearings of the law of tapu may be inferred from the sense of the word, which signifies prohibition. The system of tapu is therefore a law of prohibition, and, when stripped of the extravagances into which it often deteriorates, it is seen to be a very excellent system, and one that answers the purpose of a more elaborate code of laws. In countries where an organized government is employed the tapu is needless, and we find that even in those parts of the earth where it was once the only restrictive law it has fallen into disuse since regular government has been introduced.

Were it not for the law of tapu, an absolute anarchy would prevail in most parts of Polynesia, the tapu being the only guardian of property and morality. In order that it may be enforced on the people, the terrors of superstition are called into play, and, in the absence of secular law, the spiritual powers are evoked.

Unprotected by the tapu, property could not exist: protected by it, the most valued and coveted articles are safer than they would be in England or America despite the elaborate legal system that secures to every man that which is his own. In New Zealand, when a man has cultivated a field of kumeras, or sweet potatoes, he needs no fence and no watchman. He simply sends for the tohunga, who lays the tapu on the field; and from that moment no one save the owner will venture within its boundaries.

Sometimes a canoe is hauled up on the beach, and must be left there for some time unwatched. The owner need not trouble himself about securing his vessel. He has the tapu mark placed upon it, and the boat is accordingly held sacred to all except its possessor. Similarly, if a native boat-builder fixes on a tree which he thinks can be made into a canoe, he places the tapu on it, and knows that no one but himself will dare to cut it down. The mark of tapu in this case is almost invariably the removal of a strip of bark round the trunk of the tree.

Then the system of tapu is the only guardian of morals. It has been already mentioned that an extreme laxity in this respect prevails among the unmarried girls. But as soon as a girl is married she becomes tapu to all but her husband, and any one who induces her to become unfaithful must pay the penalty of the tapu if the delinquents be discovered. Nor is the tapu restricted to married women. It is also extended to young girls when they are betrothed; and any girl on whom the tapu has thus been laid is reckoned as a married woman.

It will be seen, therefore, that the principle of the tapu is a good one, and that it serves as protection both to property and morals. There are, of course, many instances where this system has run into extravagances, and where, instead of a protection, it has developed into a tyranny.

Take, for example, the very praiseworthy idea that the life of a chief is most important to his people, and that his person is therefore considered as tapu. This is a proper and wholesome idea, and is conducive to the interests of law and justice. But the development of the system becomes a tyranny. The chief himself being tapu, everything that he touched, even with the skirt of his garment, became tapu, and thenceforth belonged to him. So ingrained is this idea that on one occasion, when a great chief was wearing a large and handsome mantle and found it too heavy for a hot day, he threw it down a precipice. His companion remonstrated with him, saying that it would have been better to have hung the mat on a bough, so that the next comer might make use of it. The chief was horror-struck at such an idea. It was hardly possible that a superior to himself should find the mat, and not likely that an equal should do so, and if an inferior were to wear it, he would at once die.

As the very contact of a chiefs garment renders an object tapu, à fortiori does his blood, and one drop of the blood of a chief falling upon even such objects as are free from the ordinary laws of tapu renders them his property. A curious example of the operation of this law occurred when a meeting of chiefs was called at the Taupo lake. As the principal man of the tribes, the celebrated chief Te Heu-heu was invited, and a new and beautifully carved canoe sent to fetch him. As he stepped into it, a splinter ran into his foot, inflicting a very slight wound. Every man leaped out of the canoe, which was at once drawn up on the beach and considered as the property of Te Heu-heu. Another canoe was procured, and in it the party proceeded on their journey.

Another kind of tapu takes place with regard to any object which is connected with the death of a native. If, for example, a Maori has fallen overboard from a canoe and been drowned, the vessel can never be used again, but is tapu. Or if a man commits suicide by shooting himself, as has already been mentioned, the musket is tapu. But in these cases the articles are tapu to the atuas, and not to men. Sometimes they are left to decay on the spot, no man daring to touch them, or they are broken to pieces, and the fragments stuck upright in the earth to mark the spot where the event occurred.

Sometimes this personal tapu becomes exceedingly inconvenient. The wife of an old and venerable tohunga had been ill, and was made tapu for a certain length of time, during which everything that she touched became tapu. Even the very ground on which she sat was subject to this law, and accordingly, whenever she rose from the ground, the spot on which she had sat was surrounded with a fence of small boughs stuck archwise into the earth, in order to prevent profane feet from polluting the sacred spot.

The most sacred object that a New Zealander can imagine is the head of the chief. It is so sacred that even to mention it is considered as an affront. Europeans have often given deadly offence through ignorance of this superstition, or even through inadvertence. Mr. Angas narrates a curious instance of such an adventure. A friend of his was talking to a Maori chief over his fence, and the conversation turned upon the crops of the year. Quite inadvertently he said to the chief, “Oh, I have in my garden some apples as large as that little boy’s head”—pointing at the same time to the chief’s son, who was standing near his father.

He saw in a moment the insult that he had offered, and apologized, but the chief was so deeply hurt that it was with the greatest difficulty that a reconciliation was brought about. The simile was a peculiarly unfortunate one. To use the head of a chiefs son as a comparison at all was bad enough, but to compare it to an article of food was about the most deadly insult that could be offered to a Maori. All food and the various processes of preparation are looked down upon with utter contempt by the free Maori, who leaves all culinary operations to the slaves or “cookies.”

One of the very great chiefs of New Zealand was remarkable for his snowy white hair and beard, which gave him a most venerable aspect. He was held in the highest respect, and was so extremely sacred a man that his head might only be mentioned in comparison with the snow-clad top of the sacred mountain.

The same traveller to whom we are indebted for the previous anecdote relates a curious story illustrative of this etiquette. There was a certain old chief named Taonui, who was in possession of the original suit of armor which was given by George IV. to E’ Hongi when he visited England. “The subsequent history of this armor is somewhat curious. It passed from the Nga Puis to Tetori and from Tetori to Te Whero-Whero at the Waikato feast, and came into Taonui’s hands under the following circumstances.

“On the death of a favorite daughter Te Whero-Whero made a song, the substance of which was, that he would take off the scalps of all the chiefs except Ngawaka, and fling them into his daughter’s grave to avenge her untimely death. The words of this song highly insulted the various individuals against whom it was directed, more especially as it was a great curse for the hair of a chief, which is sacred, to be thus treated with contempt. But the only chief who dared to resent this insult from so great a man as Te Whero-Whero was Taonui, who demanded a ‘taua,’ or gift, as recompense for the affront, and received the armor of E’ Hongi in compensation.

“I made a drawing of the armor, which was old and rusty. It was of steel, inlaid with brass, and, though never worn by the possessors in battle—for it would sadly impede their movements—it is regarded with a sort of superstitious veneration by the natives, who look upon it as something extraordinary.”

A chief’s head is so exceedingly sacred that, if he should touch it with his own fingers, he may not touch anything else without having applied the hand to his nostrils and smelt it so as to restore to the head the virtue which was taken out of it by the touch. The hair of a chief is necessarily sacred, as growing upon his head. When it is cut, the operation is generally confided to one of his wives, who receives every particle of the cut hair in a cloth, and buries it in the ground. In consequence of touching the chief’s head, she becomes tapu for a week, during which time her hands are so sacred that she is not allowed to use them. Above all things, she may not feed herself, because she would then be obliged to pollute her hands by touching food, and such a deed would be equivalent to putting food on the chief’s head—a crime of such enormity that the mind of a Maori could scarcely comprehend its possibility.

When engaged in his explorations in New Zealand, and employed in sketching every object of interest which came in his way, Mr. Angas found this notion about the chief’s head to be a very troublesome one. He was not allowed to portray anything connected with food with the same pencil with which he sketched the head of a chief, and to put a drawing of a potato, a dish for food, or any such object, into the same portfolio which contained the portrait of a chief, was thought to be a most fearful sacrilege.

The artist had a narrow escape of losing the whole of his sketches, which a chief named Ko Tarui wanted to burn, as mixing sacred with profane things. They were only rescued by the intervention of Te Heu-heu, a superstitious old savage, but capable of seeing that the white man had meant no harm. Warned by this escape, Mr. Angas always made his drawings of tapu objects by stealth, and often had very great difficulty in eluding the suspicious natives.

Even the carved image of a chief’s head is considered as sacred as the object which it represents. Dr. Dieffenbach relates a curious instance of this superstition.

“In one of the houses of Te Puai, the head chief of all the Waikato, I saw a bust, made by himself, with all the serpentine lines of the moko, or tattooing. I asked him to give it to me, but it was only after much pressing that he parted with it. I had to go to his house to fetch it myself, as none of his tribe could legally touch it, and he licked it all over before he gave it to me; whether to take the tapu off, or whether to make it more strictly sacred, I do not know. He particularly engaged me not to put it into the provision bag, nor to let it see the natives at Rotu-nua, whither I was going, or he would certainly die in consequence.

“Payment for the bust he would not take; but he had no objection to my making him a present of my own free will: which I accordingly did, presenting him and his wife with a shirt each.”

Once the natives were very angry because Mr. Angas went under a cooking shed, having with him the portfolio containing the head of Te Heu-heu. Even his hands were tapu because they had painted the portrait of so great a chief, and he was subjected to many annoyances in consequence. Finding that the tapu was likely to become exceedingly inconvenient, he put a stop to further encroachments by saying that, if the people made any more complaints, he would put Te Heu-heu’s head into the fire. This threat shocked them greatly, but had the desired effect.

Sometimes this sanctity of the chief is exceedingly inconvenient to himself. On one occasion, when Mr. Angas was visiting the chief Te Whero-Whero, he found the great man superintending the plantation of a kumera ground and the erection of a house for himself. Rain was falling fast, but the old chief sat on the damp ground, wrapped up in his blanket, and appearing to be entirely unconcerned at the weather, a piece of sail-cloth over the blanket being his only defence.

He did not rise, according to the custom of the old heathen chiefs, who will sometimes sit for several days together, in a sort of semi-apathetic state. To the request that his portrait might be taken Te Whero-Whero graciously acceded, and talked freely on the all important subject of land while the painter was at work. Finding the rain exceedingly unpleasant, the artist suggested that they had better move into a house. The old chief, however, knowing that he could not enter a house without making it his property by reason of contact with his sacred person, declined to move, but ordered a shelter to be erected for the white man. This was done at once, by fastening a blanket to some upright poles: and so the portrait was completed, the painter under cover and the sitter out in the rain.

Localities can be rendered tapu, even those which have not been touched by the person who lays the tapu upon them. The chief Te Heu-heu, for example, was pleased to declare the volcano Tongariro under the tapu, by calling it his backbone, so that not a native would dare approach it, nor even look at it, if such an act could be avoided. Mr. Angas was naturally desirous of visiting this mountain, but found that such a scheme could not be carried out. He offered blankets and other articles which a New Zealander prizes; but all to no purpose, for the tapu could not be broken. The chief even tried to prevent his white visitors from travelling in the direction of the mountain, and only gave his consent after ordering that the sacred Tongariro should not even be looked at. So deeply is this superstition engraven in the heart of the New Zealander, that even the Christian natives are afraid of such a tapu, and will not dare to approach a spot that has thus been made sacred by a tohunga. Reasoning is useless with them; they will agree to all the propositions, admit the inference to be drawn from them, and then decline to run so terrible a risk.

One of the finest examples of native architecture was made tapu by this same chief, who seems to have had a singular pleasure in exercising his powers. It was a pah called Waitahanui, and was originally the stronghold of Te Heu-heu. It is on the borders of the lake, and the side which fronts the water is a full half-mile in length. It is made, as usual, of upright posts and stakes, and most of the larger posts are carved into the human form, with visages hideously distorted, and tongues protruded seaward, as if in defiance of expected enemies.

Within this curious pah were the cannibal cook-houses which have already been figured, together with several of the beautifully carved patukas or receptacles for the sacred food of the chief. Specimens of these may be seen figured on [page 831]. In this pah Mr. Angas found the most elaborate specimen of the patuka that he ever saw. It was fortunate that he arrived when he did, as a very few years more would evidently complete the destruction of the place. Many of the most beautiful implements of native art were already so decayed that they were but a shapeless heap of ruins, and the others, were rapidly following in the same path. Of these specimens of Maori carving and architecture nothing is now left but the sketches from which have been made the illustrations that appear in this work.

Here I may be allowed to controvert a popular and plausible fallacy, which has often been brought before the public. Travellers are blamed for bringing to England specimens of architecture and other arts from distant countries. It is said, and truly too, that such articles are out of place in England. So they are: but it must be remembered that if they had not been in England they would not have been in existence. The marvellous sarcophagus, for example, brought to London by Belzoni, and now in the Soane Museum, would have been broken to pieces and hopelessly destroyed if it had been allowed to remain in the spot where it was found.

Again, had not the Assyrian sculptures found a home in the British Museum, they would have been knocked to pieces by the ignorant tribes who now roam over the ruins of Nineveh the Great. Even had the vast statues defied entire destruction, the inscriptions would long ago have been defaced, and we should have irreparably lost some of the most valuable additions to our scanty knowledge of chronology.

So again with the Elgin Marbles. Undoubtedly they were more in their place in Greece than they are in England; but, if they had not been brought to England, the iconoclastic hand of the Mussulman would have utterly destroyed them, and the loss to art would have been indeed terrible.

Thus is it with regard to the specimens of savage art, no matter in what way it is developed. Taking New Zealand as an example, there is not in England a single specimen of a Maori house. It could be easily taken to pieces and put together again; it is peculiarly valuable to ethnologists on account of the extraordinary mixture which it displays of ancient Egyptian architecture and ancient Mexican art; and in a very few years there will not be a single specimen of aboriginal architecture in the whole of New Zealand. The Maories, who have abandoned the club for the rifle, the mat for the blanket, and even the blanket for the coat and trousers, have begun to modify their ancient architecture, and to build houses after the European models.

Unless, therefore, means be taken to rescue specimens of Maori architecture from destruction, it is much to be doubted whether in twenty years’ time from the present date a single specimen will exist as a type of native art. So it is with the canoes. Graceful, picturesque, and adorned with the finest specimens of Maori art, the canoes were unique among vessels. At the present day the more useful but more commonplace whaleboat has superseded the canoe, and in a few years the elaborately decorated vessels of the Maories will have utterly passed away.

We may be sure that the tide of civilization is sweeping so rapidly over the world, that a very few years will see the end of savage life in all lands to which the white man can gain access. The relics of the ancient mode of life are left by the natives to perish, and, unless they are rescued, and brought to a country where they can be preserved, they will necessarily vanish from the face of the earth. Having this idea in my own mind, I set myself some years ago to collect articles of daily use from all parts of the world. The light which they throw upon anthropology is really astonishing, and, among some eight or nine hundred specimens, there is not one that does not tell its own story.

Take, for example, the stone merai that lies before me. What a tale does it not tell of the country where it was found, and of the workman who made it! The stone shows that it was obtained from a volcanic country; the short, weighty form of the weapon shows that it was made for a courageous race who fought hand to hand; and the graceful curves and perfect balance of the weapon show that the maker was a true artist. More than that. The merai has been made by rubbing it with another stone, and must have occupied years of labor. See, then, what a tale this weapon tells us—the volcanic region, the courageous warrior, and the worthlessness of time. Year after year the man must have worked at that merai, bending his tattooed face over it, balancing it in his hand, and watching its soft curves grow into perfection. Then, after it was made, he has evidently carried it about with him, fought with his foes, and dashed out their brains with its once sharp and now notched edge. Afterward, when he, or may be his grandson, came to fight against the white men, their fire-arms were too terrible to be opposed, and the merai was taken from the hand of the dead warrior as he lay on the field of battle, its plaited cord still round his wrist. Nevermore will a stone merai be made, and before very long the best examples of Maori weapons will be found in English museums.

We will now return to the subject of the tapu. Useful as it may be as a guardian of property, it often exaggerates that duty, and produces very inconvenient results. For example, some travellers were passing through the country, and were hungry and wearied, and without food. Very opportunely there came in sight a fine pig; but the animal contrived to run across a piece of ground which was tapu, and in consequence became tapu itself for a certain number of days, and could not be eaten.

There are thousands of such tapu spots in the country. If, for example, a great chief has been travelling, every place where he sits to rest is tapu, and is marked by a slight fence of sticks. In many cases, each of these sacred spots has its own name. The same is the case when the body of a chief is carried to his own pah for burial, every resting place of the bearers becoming tapu. Therefore nothing was more likely than to come across one of these tapu spots, or more easy than for the pig to break through its slight fence.

A curious modification of the tapu took place before and after a battle. The tohunga assembled the warriors of his own party, and went with them to the lake or river, which had been made tapu for the purpose. The men then threw off all their clothing, and went into the water, which they scooped up with their hands and threw over their heads and bodies. The priest then recited the appropriate incantation.

Thus the battle tapu was laid upon the warriors, who were thereby prohibited from undertaking any other business except that of fighting, and were supposed, moreover, to be under the protection of the gods. This tapu was most strictly regarded, and the warriors had to learn quite a long list of occupations which were forbidden to them, such as carrying a load, cutting their own hair, touching the head of a woman, and so forth.

After the fighting is over, it is necessary that the tapu should be taken off from the survivors, so that they should be enabled to return to their usual mode of life. This ceremony is rather a complicated one, and varies slightly in different parts of the country. The chief features, however, are as follows:—

Each man who had killed an enemy, or taken a slave, pulled off a lock of hair from the victim, and retained it as a trophy. They then went in a body to the tohunga, and gave him a portion of the hair. This he tied on a couple of little twigs, raised them high above his head, and recited the incantation; after which the whole body joined in the war song and dance. This being over, the warriors clapped their hands together and struck their legs, that act being supposed to take off the tapu which had been contracted by imbruing them in the blood of the enemy.

The war party then goes home, and a similar ceremony is undergone in the presence of the principal tohunga of their pah, the hands being clapped and the war dance performed. The remainder of the hair is given to the tohunga, who, after reciting his incantation, flings the tuft of hair away, and ends by another incantation, which declares that the tapu is taken away.

As a general rule, the tapu can only be taken off by the person who imposed it; but if a man imposed a tapu on anything, another who was very much his superior would not have much scruple in breaking through it. By courtesy the tapu was mostly respected by great and small alike, and, by courtesy also, the very great men often put themselves to great inconvenience by refraining from actions that would lay the tapu on the property of inferiors. Thus we have seen how a chief refused to enter a house, lest he should render it his property, and preferred to sit in the pouring rain, rather than run the risk of depriving an inferior of his property.

Should an object become tapu by accident, the tohunga can take off the tapu and restore the object to use. A curious instance of the exercise of this power is related by a traveller. A white man, who had borrowed an iron pot for cooking, wanted some soft water, and so he placed the pot under the eaves of a house from which the rain was running. Now, the house happened to be tapu, and in consequence the water running from it made the pot tapu. It so happened that a woman, who was ignorant of the circumstance, used the pot for cooking, and when she was told that the vessel was tapu she was greatly frightened, declaring that she would die before night. In this difficulty a tohunga came to her relief, repeated an incantation over the vessel, and made it “noa,” or common, again.

Sometimes the tapu only lasts for a period, and, after that time has elapsed, expires without the need of any ceremony. Thus, if a person who is tapu by sickness is touched by another, the latter is tapu for a definite time, usually three days. If a sick person dies inside a house, that house is ipso facto, tapu and may never again be used. It is painted with red ochre, as a sign of its sanctity, and is left to decay. In consequence of this superstition, when the patient seems likely to die, he is removed from the house, and taken to a spot outside the pah, where a shed is built for his reception.

It will be seen from the foregoing account how great is the power of the tapu, and how much it adds to the power of the chiefs. Indeed, without the power of tapu, a chief would be but a common man among his people—he would be liable to the tapu of others, and could not impose his own. The tapu is one of the chief obstacles against the spread of Christianity. Knowing that the missionaries treat the tapu as a mere superstition, the great chiefs do not choose to embrace a religion which will cause them to lose their highest privilege, and would deprive them of the one great power by which they exercise their authority.

Mr. Williams, the well-known missionary, sums up the subject of the tapu in very bold and graphic language:—“It is the secret of power, and the strength of despotic rule. It affects things both great and small. Here it is seen tending a brood of chickens, and there it directs the energies of a kingdom. Its influence is variously diffused. Coasts, islands, rivers, and seas; animals, fruit, fish, and vegetables; houses, beds, pots, cups, and dishes; canoes, with all that belong to them, with their management; dress, ornaments, and arms; things to eat and things to drink; the members of the body; the manners and customs; language, names, temper; and even the gods also; all come under the influence of the tapu.

“It is put into operation by religious, political, or selfish motives; and idleness lounges for months beneath its sanction. Many are thus forbidden to raise their hands or extend their arms in any useful employment for a long time. In this district it is tapu to build canoes; on that island it is tapu to erect good houses. The custom is much in favor among chiefs, who adjust it so that it sits easily on themselves, while they use it to gain influence over those who are nearly their equals; by it they supply many of their wants, and command at will all who are beneath them. In imposing a tapu, a chief need only be checked by a care that he is countenanced by ancient precedents.”

CHAPTER LXXXVII.
NEW ZEALAND—Concluded.
FUNERAL CEREMONIES AND ARCHITECTURE.

THE MOURNING OVER THE DEAD CHIEF — THE TANGI, AND THE SCARS WHICH IT LEAVES — FIRST BURIAL OF THE CHIEF — THE WAHI TAPU — THE SECOND BURIAL, OR “HAHUNGA” — REMOVAL OF THE TAPU, AND INSTALLATION OF THE SUCCESSOR — E’ HONGI’S DEATHBED — A DECAYING PAH — CANOE TOMBS — MONUMENT TO E’ TOKI — TOMB OF TE WHERO-WHERO’S DAUGHTER — SAVAGE SENTIMENT — MAORI ARCHITECTURE — MATERIAL, SHAPE, AND SIZE OF THE HOUSES — A CROWDED SLEEPING PLACE — THE EAT MAN HOUSE — RANGIHAEATA’S REVENGE — PUATIA’S WAR-HOUSE AND ITS SCULPTURES — INTERIOR VIEW OF A PAH — TOOLS USED IN HOUSE-BUILDING — THE AXE AND THE CHISEL — THE TOKO-TOKO, OR WALKING STICK.

We now come to the ceremonies that belong to funerals.

When a chief, or indeed any Rangatira, dies, his friends and relations deck the body in the finest clothes which the deceased had possessed in his lifetime, lay it out, and assemble round it for the customary mourning. The women are the chief mourners, and indulge in the most demonstrative, not to say ostentatious, ebullitions of grief. Sometimes they squat upon the ground, their bodies and faces wrapped in their mantles, as if utterly overpowered by grief. Sometimes they wave their arms in the air, shaking their hands with expressive gestures of sorrow; and all the while they utter loud wailing cries, while the tears stream down their cheeks.

Much of this extravagant sorrow is necessarily feigned, according to the custom of New Zealand life, which demands tears on so many occasions; but there is no doubt that much is real and truly felt. The women cut themselves severely with shells, making incisions in the skin several inches in length. These incisions are filled with charcoal, as if they had been part of the regular moko or tattoo, and become indelible, being, in fact, perpetual records of sorrow. Some of these women cut themselves with such severity, that in their old age they are covered with the thin blue lines of the “tangi,” their faces, limbs, and bodies being traversed by them in rather a ludicrous manner. The tangi lines might be mistaken for regular tattooing, except for one point. They have no pattern, and instead of being curved, as is always the case with the moko, they are straight, about two inches in length, and run parallel to each other.

They address long speeches to the dead man, enumerating his many virtues, his courage, his liberality, the strength of his tapu, and so forth, mixed with reproaches to him for dying and going away from them when they stood in such need of him. Indeed, the whole of the proceedings, with the exception of cutting the skin, are very like those of an Irish wake.

In the [illustration No. 1], on the 872nd page, are shown these various ceremonies. The dead body of the chief is lying under the shed, wrapped in the best mantle, and with a coronal of feathers in the hair. In the front sits a chief, whose rank is denoted by his hani, or staff of office, that lies by him, and by the elaborate mantle in which he has wrapped himself. Standing near the corpse is one of the mourners, with arms upraised and hands quivering, while others are seen sitting in various attitudes of woe. The fence of the pah is shown in the background, with its grotesque images and curious architecture.

When the old people attend a funeral, they usually paint themselves freely with red ochre, and wear wreaths of green leaves upon their heads. The house in which the death took place is rendered tapu until the body is finally disposed of—an event which does not take place for some time.

After the mourning ceremonies have been completed, the body is placed in a sort of coffin and allowed to decay, the green jade merai, the tiki, the hani, and other emblems of rank being placed with the corpse. In some parts of the country this coffin is canoe-shaped, and suspended to the branches of a tree, certain places being kept sacred for this purpose. There existed, for example, several graves belonging to the Nga-pui tribe, which had been preserved on account of the sacred character which belonged to them. The natives had long abandoned the custom of hanging the coffins of the dead on the trees, but the sacred character still clung to them, and, though the woods in that part of the country had been felled, the sacred groves were allowed to flourish unharmed.

Sometimes the body of a very great chief was placed in a wooden receptacle in the midst of the pah, called the waki-tapu, and there allowed to decay. As might be expected, a most horrible odor is disseminated through the pah during the process of decomposition; but the inhabitants do not seem to trouble themselves, their nostrils not being easily offended. For example, when a whale is thrown ashore, the stench of the huge mass of decomposition is so overpowering that an European cannot endure it. The natives, however, say that they are used to it, and do not notice it. Indeed, people who can eat the horrible messes of putrid maize of which they are so fond must be so obtuse of scent as to be indifferent to any ill odor.

Be it as it may, in time the process of decay is supposed to be complete,—seven or eight months being the usual time. A curious ceremony, called the “hahunga,” then takes place. The friends and relatives of the deceased chief are again assembled, and the bones are solemnly taken from their receptacle and cleaned. The person who cleans them is necessarily tapu, but is rendered “noa,” or common again, by the eldest son and daughter of the deceased chief eating of the sacred food offered to the dead. Should the eldest girl happen to be dead, the food is placed in a calabash, and laid in the now empty coffin, the spirit of the girl being called by name, and the food offered to her. The spirit is supposed to partake of the food; and the tapu is thus removed as effectually as if she were alive, and had visibly eaten the provisions. Should the chief have had no daughter, the nearest female relative takes the office. The usual orations are made in honor of the deceased and the merai, tiki, and other ornaments of the dead chief are then handed over to his eldest son, who thus takes possession of the post which his father had vacated, the ceremony being analogous to a coronation among Europeans.

When the celebrated chief E’ Hongi, the “Scourge of New Zealand,” as he has been called, died, his children were so afraid that they would be attacked by those whom the terror of his name had kept quiet, that they wanted to omit the preliminary orations and “tangi,” and to lay his body in the “waki-tapu,” or sacred place, on the day after his death. This intention was, however, overruled, chiefly in consequence of the foresight of the dying chief.

Feeling that his end was close at hand, he rallied his sons round him, sent for all his warlike stores, the merais, patus, muskets, ammunition, and, above all, the armor which he had received from George IV., and bequeathed them to his children. He was asked what “utu,” or satisfaction, should be exacted for his death, but replied that the only utu which his spirit would desire was, that his tribe should be valiant, and repel any attack that might be made upon them. But for this really noble sentiment, there would have been great slaughter at his death, in order to furnish attendants for him.

That his tribe should for the future be valiant, and repel the attacks of their enemies, was the ruling idea in E’ Hongi’s mind; and on March 6, 1828, he died, continually repeating the words, “Kia toa! kia toa!”—i. e. “Be valiant! be valiant!”

After the ceremony of cleaning the bones is over, they are taken by the principal tohunga, or priest, who generally disposes of them in some secret spot sacred to the remains of dead chiefs, and known only to himself. Sometimes, however, they are laid in beautifully carved boxes, which are supported on posts in the middle of the pah.

Sometimes the waki-tapu, or sacred place in which the body of a chief is placed while it undergoes decomposition, is marked in a very curious manner, and the entire village deserted for a time. For example, at the pah of Huriwenua, the chief had died about six weeks before Mr. Angas arrived at the place, which he found deserted. “Not far from this island pah stood the village of Huriwenua, the gaily-ornamented tomb of the late chief forming a conspicuous object in the centre. Here, although everything was in a state of perfect preservation, not a living soul was to be seen; the village, with its neat houses made of raupo, and its courtyards and provision boxes, was entirely deserted. From the moment the chief was laid beneath the upright canoe, on which were inscribed his name and rank, the whole village became strictly tapu, or sacred, and not a native, on pain of death, was permitted to trespass near the spot. The houses were all fastened up, and on most of the doors were inscriptions denoting that the property of such an one remained there.

“An utter silence pervaded the place. After ascertaining that no natives were in the vicinity of the forbidden spot, I landed, and trod the sacred ground; and my footsteps were probably the first, since the desertion of the village, that had echoed along its palisaded passages.

(1.) MOURNING OVER A DEAD CHIEF.
(See [page 869].)

(2.) TOMB OF E’ TOKI.
(See [page 873].)

“On arriving at the tomb, I was struck with the contrast between the monument of the savage and that of the civilized European. In the erection of the latter, marble and stone and the most durable of metals are employed, while rapidly decaying wood, red ochre, and feathers form the decorations of the Maori tomb. Huriwenua having been buried only six weeks, the ornaments of the waki-tapu, or sacred place, as those erections are called, were fresh and uninjured. The central upright canoe was richly painted with black and red, and at the top was written the name of the chief; above which there hung in clusters, bunches of kaka feathers, forming a large mass at the summit of the canoe. A double fence of high palings, also painted red, and ornamented with devices in arabesque work, extended round the grave, and at every fastening of flax, where the horizontal rails were attached to the upright fencing, were stuck two feathers of the albatross, the sunny whiteness of which contrasted beautifully with the sombre black and red of the remainder of the monument.”

One of these tombs may be seen in the background of [illustration No. 1], on p. 860, containing the portrait of an old priest, and another is shown in the [view of a village] which will be given on a future page.

Within the pah is often erected a monument or mausoleum of the dead. A very beautiful example of this kind of tomb was erected in the pah of Rangihaeta to the memory of E’ Toki, the mother of Raupahara.

It was nearly semi-circular in shape, and the body was placed in it in an upright position. It was covered with a roof, squared at the corners, and projecting like a verandah all round, and sloping toward the back. The central tomb, the roof, and the posts which supported it, were all covered with the most elaborate arabesque pattern, mostly of a spiral character. Paint was liberally used on it, that on the central tomb or coffin being red and white, while that which decorated the roof and posts was red and black. In front of the projecting roof was hung the beautifully woven kaitaka mat of the deceased woman, and tufts of the white feathers of the albatross were arranged at regular intervals upon it.

Even when Mr. Angas saw this beautiful example of Maori art, it was beginning to decay, the climate being damp, and the natives never repairing a decaying tomb. It was, of course, strictly tapu. No native liked to go close to it, and for a slave, or even a free man of inferior rank, to go within a certain distance of it would have been a crime punishable with instant death.

I have much pleasure in presenting on the preceding page an [illustration] of this beautiful monument of Maori art, taken from a drawing made by Mr. Angas in 1844, while the perishable materials of which the tomb was made were yet in tolerable preservation. Under the carved and decorated roof may be seen the semicircular coffin in which the body had been placed, distinguished from the outer portion of the tomb by the red and white colors with which it was painted, in contrast to the red and black of the outer portions. The reader will notice that red is the prevalent color in all tombs, because red is the hue of mourning as well as of war among the Maories. Immediately under the eaves of the front may be seen the highly ornamented border of the kaitaka mat once worn by the deceased, and now left to decay upon her tomb.

Round the tomb itself runs a slight and low fence. This palisade, small as it might appear, afforded ample protection to the tomb, inasmuch as the whole space within it was rendered sacred by a tapu laid upon it by Raupahara, so that not even the highest chief would venture to enter the forbidden enclosure.

One of the finest specimens of carving in New Zealand—perhaps the finest in the whole country—is, or rather was, a mausoleum erected by Te Whero-Whero to his favorite daughter. It was upon the death of this daughter that Te Whero-Whero gave such dire offence to the other chiefs by threatening to throw their scalps into his daughter’s grave, for which offence he had to give up the celebrated armor of E’Hongi by way of fine.

The monument was erected in Raroera, formerly one of the largest and finest pahs in New Zealand, but rendered desolate by the act of the headstrong and determined chief. He had this wonderful tomb built for his daughter, and, as soon as her body was placed within it, he pronounced the whole pah to be tapu. It was at once deserted: old and young quitted the place, leaving everything behind them, the provisions to moulder and the weapons to decay. Solid houses that had occupied many years in building and carving were allowed to fall into mere shapeless heaps of ruins; and even in 1844 the rank vegetation had so completely overrun the place that many of the best pieces of native work were covered by the foliage.

The tomb is about twelve feet high, and consists of the usual box for the reception of the body, covered by a projecting roof, which is supported by pillars. Were it as graceful in form as the monument to E’ Toki, this would be by far the finest specimen of native art; but unfortunately it does not possess the bold outline and contrast of the curve and the straight line which are so characteristic of E’ Toki’s tomb.

The elaboration of the carving on this monument is so great that it almost baffles the skill of the draughtsman. Mr. Angas succeeded in copying it, and when the drawing was shown to the artist who had executed the work he was astounded, and pronounced the white man to be a great tohunga. The roof is supported by pillars, each pillar consisting of two human figures, the upper standing on the head of the lower. The upper figure is about seven feet in height, and has a gigantic head, with an enormous protruding tongue that reaches to the breast.

The whole of the tomb is covered with human heads. Exclusive of those upon the posts, the front alone of the tomb contains fourteen faces, each differing from the other in expression and pattern of the moko, but all wearing the same defiant air. Their enormous eyes are made peculiarly conspicuous by being carved out of haliotis shell, carrying out on a large scale the plan adopted in the chiefs’ hanis and other sculptures. The whole of the space between the figures is covered with the most elaborate arabesques, intertwining with each other in a bewildering manner, but each running its own boldly curved course. Between the various pieces that compose this tomb are set bunches and tufts of white and green feathers, which serve to adorn as well as disguise the necessary seams of the woodwork.

This wonderful monument was entirely carved by one man, named Paranui. He was lame, and in consequence had expended his energies in art, in which he had so greatly distinguished himself that he took rank as a tohunga. He was equally celebrated as a tattooer; and it may well be imagined that a man who could design so extraordinary a piece of workmanship must be skilful in inventing the endless variety of patterns needful in the decoration of chief’s faces. In performing this work, Paranui had but one tool, the head of an old bayonet.

The loss of such specimens of native art as those which have been described carries out my former remarks on the necessity for removing to our own country every memorial of savage life that we can secure. We inflict no real injury upon the savages, and we secure an invaluable relic of vanishing customs. These monuments, for example, were simply carved and then left to decay. Had they been removed to this country, where they would have been guarded from the power of the elements and the encroachments of vegetation, we should have seen them in complete preservation at the present day, and likely to last as long as the building which contained them.

Of course the sentimental argument may be pleaded against this view of the case; but in matters which are of vital importance in the grand study of anthropology mere sentiment ought to have no place. Neither has it such place as some often imagine. The savage, finding that the white man yields to him on this point, is only too glad to find any vantage ground, and always presses on as fast as the other yields—just as has been done in India with the question of caste. We cannot measure their mental sensibilities any more than their physical by our own. A savage endures with stoicism tortures which would kill an European, simply because he does not feel them as much. And the mental and physical sensibilities are very much on a par.

The Maori is perhaps the finest savage race on the face of the earth, and yet we cannot think that he is exactly an estimable being, whose ambition is murder, and whose reward is to eat the body of his victim, who never does a stroke of work that he can avoid, and who leads a life of dissipation as far as his capabilities go. Of all savage nations, the New Zealander displays most sorrow for the loss of a friend or relation. Tears flow profusely from his eyes, and every tone of his voice and every gesture of his body convey the impression that he is borne down by unendurable woe. Yet we have seen that this effusion of sorrow is mostly premeditated, and merely a conventional mode of acting required by the etiquette of the country.

When two people can be bathed in tears, speak only in sobbing accents, utter heart-rending cries, and sink to the ground as overwhelmed by grief, we cannot but compassionate their sorrow and admire their sensibility. But if, in the middle of all these touching demonstrations of grief, we see them suddenly cease from their sobs and cries, enter into a little lively conversation, enjoy a hearty laugh, and then betake themselves afresh to their tears and sobs, we may take the liberty of doubting their sincerity.

So with those beautiful houses and monuments that are left to perish by neglect. The builder did in all probability feel very keenly at the time, though the feeling of grief seems sometimes to take a curious turn, and be metamorphosed into vengeance and an excuse for war; but it is very much to be doubted whether grief for the departed is a feeling that is really permanent in the savage mind. The Maori chief may lay his tapu on an entire village when a relative dies, and if, after the lapse of years, any one be rash enough to invade the forbidden precincts, he will visit the offence with instant punishment. But it must be remembered that the infringement of the tapu in question is not an insult to the dead but to the living, and that when the chief punishes the offender, he does not avenge an affront offered to his dead relative, but a direct insult to himself.

In spite of his sentiment, I think that the Maori might have been induced to sell such specimens of art, and even if he refused to yield to such a proposition, he would have respected us none the less if, when we had captured a pah, we exercised the right of conquest, and took that which we could not buy. Or even supposing that the first idea had proved impracticable, and the second unadvisable, it would not have been very difficult to have induced a native artist to execute a duplicate which he could sell for a price which would enrich him for life.

Such sentiments are, I know, unpopular with the mass of those who only see the savage at a distance, which certainly, in the case of savage life, lends the only enchantment to the view that it can possess. But I believe them to be just and true, and know that the closer is our acquaintance with savage life, the more reason we have to be thankful for civilization. The savage knows this himself, and bitterly feels his inferiority. He hates and fears the white man, but always ends by trying to imitate him.

To return to these monuments. In former times they existed in great numbers, and even in more recent days those which survive are so characteristic of a style of art that may have taken its rise from ancient Mexico, that I should have been glad to transfer to these pages several more of Mr. Angas’ sketches.

It will be seen from several of the previous illustrations that the New Zealanders must possess much skill in architecture. The observant reader must have remarked that the art of house-building is practically wanting in Australia; and that such should be the case is most extraordinary, seeing that architectural skill is singularly developed among the great Polynesian families. The New Zealander, whose country has much in common with Australia, is remarkable for the skill and taste which he displays in architecture; and a short space will therefore be devoted to this subject.

As is the case throughout Polynesia in general, the material used in house-building is wood, and the various pieces of which a house is composed are fastened together not by nails, but by ropes and strings, which in many cases are applied in a most elaborate and artistic manner, beauty being studied not only in the forms of the houses and in the carved patterns with which they are adorned, but in the complicated lashings with which they are bound together. As, however, this branch of ornamental architecture is carried to a greater extent in Fiji than in New Zealand, I shall reserve the details for the description of the Fiji Islands.

The size of some of these edifices is very great. For example, in 1843 the Maori converts built for themselves a place of worship large enough to contain a thousand persons, and measuring eighty-six feet in length by forty-two in width. The size of this edifice was evidently determined by the length of the ridge-pole. This was cut from a single tree, and was dragged by the natives a distance of three miles. The cross-lashings of the building were all ornamental, giving to it a peculiar richness of finish.

We are, however, chiefly concerned with the domestic architecture of the Maories. Within each pah or enclosed village are a number of houses, each representing a family, and separated from each other by fences, several houses generally standing near each other in one enclosure. A full-sized house is about forty feet long by twenty wide, and is built on precisely the same principle as the tombs which have been just described, the actual house taking the position of the coffin, and being sheltered from the weather by a gable roof, which extends far beyond the walls, so as to form a sort of verandah. The roof is supported on separate posts, and does not, as with ourselves, rest upon the walls of the house. The roof always projects greatly at the principal end of the house, in which the door is situated, so that it forms a sort of shed, under which the members of the family can shelter themselves from the sun or rain without going into the house. A genuine New Zealander has a great love for fresh air, and, as we have seen, will composedly sit for a whole day on the wet ground in a pouring rain, although a house may be within easy reach. Yet at night, when he retires to rest, he is equally fond of shutting himself up, and of excluding every breath of fresh air.

Indeed, the native does not look upon a house as a place wherein to live, but merely as a convenient shelter from the elements by day and a comfortable sleeping-place by night. As soon as evening is near, a fire is lighted in the middle of the house, which fills it with smoke, as there is no chimney. The New Zealander, however, seems to be smoke-proof, and sits composedly in a place which would drive an European half mad with smarting eyes. Indeed, before the natives become inured to the acrid vapor, their eyes have much to endure, and it is to the habit of sitting in the smoke that the bleared look so prevalent in old people is chiefly due.

Not only do the natives thus surround themselves with a smoky atmosphere, but they limit its quantity as well as its quality. The number of men and women that will pack themselves into one house at night is almost incredible, each person lying down on a simple mat, and retaining the same clothes that have been worn during the day. As, however, the heat becomes excessive, the inmates generally contrive to throw off their clothing during the night. By daybreak the heat and closeness are almost stifling to an European, and it is rather an amusing sight to see a hut give up its inmates on the morning of a cold day, the whole party being enveloped in steam as they come into the cold air.

At the principal end of the house, under the verandah, is the entrance. This strangely resembles the gate of an Egyptian temple, being made of three large beams, the two side posts slightly inclining to each other, and the third laid upon them. The aperture is closed by a sliding door, and at the side of the door is generally a square window, which can be closed in the same manner. In some large houses there were two of these windows, one on either side of the door.

As the roof is made with a considerable slant, the walls are seldom more than two or three feet high where the roof touches them, though in the middle the house is lofty enough. The roof is supported on the inside by one or two posts, which are always carved elaborately, and almost invariably have the human figure as one of the ornaments upon them. The ridge-pole is flattened and boardlike, and in good houses is carved and painted in patterns, usually of the spiral character. This board, as well as those which are used in different parts of the building, is made by hacking the trunk of a tree on both sides, until it is reduced to the required thickness, the native Maories having no tool which can answer the purpose of a saw.

At the end of the ridge-pole, over the door, is carved a distorted human figure, intended to represent the owner of the house, and recognized as such by the lines of the moko or tattoo on its face, and generally having the tongue thrust out to an inordinate extent.

An [illustration] on page 877 represents the most celebrated of all Maori houses, namely, the war house of the ruthless chief Rangihaeta, an edifice which fully expresses the ferocious character of the builder. These houses are designed by chiefs in honor of some great victory, and are surrounded with wooden figures, which either represent in derision the leading warriors of the enemy who have been killed, or the victorious chief and his own warriors in the act of defying and insulting the enemy by thrusting out their tongues at them. This house bears the ominous name of Kai-tangata, or Eat-man.

The [illustration] is taken from a sketch made by Mr. Angas, who describes the building as follows: “Kai-tangata, or Eat-man House, is a wooden edifice in the primitive Maori style, of large dimensions, with the door-posts and the boards forming the portico curiously and elaborately carved in grotesque shapes, representing human figures, frequently in the most indecent attitudes. The eyes are inlaid with pawa shell, and the tattooing of the faces is carefully cut. The tongues of all these figures are monstrously large, and protrude out of the mouth, as a mark of defiance toward their enemies who may approach the house. The whole of the carved work, as well as the wooden parts of the building, are colored red with kokowai, an ochre found principally on the side of the volcano of Taranaki.

“The portico or verandah of Rangihaeta’s house is about twelve feet deep, and the ridge-pole and frame boards of the roof are richly painted in spiral arabesques of black and red; the margin of each spiral being dotted with white spots, which add richness to the effect. The spaces between the woodwork are filled up with variegated reeds, beautifully arranged with great skill, and fastened together with strips of flax dyed red, and tied crosswise, so as to present the appearance of ornamental basketwork.

“Above the centre of the gable-roofed portico is fixed a large wooden head, elaborately tattooed, with hair and a beard fastened on, composed of dogs’ tails. Within the house is a carved image of most hideous aspect, that supports the ridge-pole of the roof. This is intended to represent the proprietor, and is said by the natives to be entirely the work of Rangihaeta’s own hand.”

This figure, together with the pole that issues from the head, may be seen in [illustration No. 1], on page 809, which represents the interior of the house. On account of the circumstance recorded in the beginning of this description, the artist has been unable to draw a vast number of carvings which decorated this house, so that much of the extraordinary elaboration is necessarily omitted.

Rangihaeta displayed his merciless disposition in one of the unfortunate skirmishes which often took place between the Maories and the English, and which have afterward been equally regretted by both parties, the white men having generally offered an unintentional insult to the natives, and the latter having resented it in the heat of passion. On this occasion, a number of the white men had been captured by the Maories under the two chiefs Rangihaeta and Raupahara, who were related to each other by marriage, the former having married a daughter of the latter. Some time previously, this woman had been accidentally killed by a chance shot, which, as a matter of course, her relations insisted on considering as intentional.

(1.) RANGIHAETA’S WAR HOUSE.
(See [page 876].)

(2.) INTERIOR OF A PAH OR VILLAGE.
(See [page 879].)

While the prisoners and their capturers were standing together, another chief named Puatia tried to make peace, saying that the slain on both sides were about equal. His proposition was accepted, the lately opposing parties shook hands, and all would have gone well had they not been joined by Rangihaeta, who had been employing himself in the congenial task of killing all the wounded. He immediately demanded the lives of the prisoners, and when Raupahara refused to accede to his demand, Rangihaeta told him to remember his daughter. The bereaved chief was silent at this implied reproach, and, before he had time to collect his thoughts, Rangihaeta glided round the party, getting behind each of the captives as they stood among the Maories, and killed them successively with his merai. The ubiquitous land question was at the bottom of this sad business.

Houses like the Kai-tangata were formerly common, answering the purpose of the ancient trophies. A war house nearly as celebrated as that which has just been described was erected by Puatia, the chief of Otawhao Pah, in order to commemorate the capture of Maketu on the east coast. Since Puatia died, the whole of this splendid pah was rendered tapu, and, in consequence, the buildings within it were given up to decay. Mr. Angas was fortunate enough to secure a sketch of the war house before, like the rest of the buildings in the pah, it had entirely decayed.

The house itself is perhaps scarcely so neatly made as the Kai-tangata, but it derives great interest from the number of figures with which the beams, rafters, and posts are decorated. On either side of the verandah stand two huge wooden figures, which are intended to represent two chiefs who fell in battle, but who, as belonging to the victorious side, are represented with their tongues defiantly menacing the beaten enemy.

The figure that supports the central pole represents a chief who was one of the principal warriors at the capture of Maketu. At the height of six and ten feet respectively, on the same pole, are carvings which represent two other warriors, their moko, or tattoo, doing duty for the whole of the person. Still higher are a couple of figures representing warriors, the upper figure appearing to stand on the roof itself. Just within the upper part of the gable is the figure of Pokana, a warrior who was living at the time when the house was built, and who is represented with a pipe in his mouth. Around the house are numbers of similar figures, each representing some well-known individual, and having a signification which is perfectly well understood by the natives.

It was in this ruined pah of Otawhao that the disused wooden war-bell was found. The former owner, Puatia, was converted to Christianity before his death, and, while he lay sick within his pah, he had a school established for the purpose of disseminating Christianity, and used to call his people round him for the morning and evening prayers.

It has been mentioned that, owing to the contempt with which the Maories regard everything that pertains to the preparation of food, cooking is never carried on in the dwelling-houses. If possible, it is conducted in the open air; but when the weather is too wet or too windy, a shed is employed. These cooking sheds are built expressly for the purpose, and no one with any claims to rank ever enters within them. Were no shelter but a cooking shed to be found within miles, the Maori chief would not enter it, no matter how severe the weather might be.

The cooking sheds are built very simply, the sides or walls being purposely made with considerable interstices, so that the wind may pass freely between them. They are roofed with beams, over which is placed a thatch of the raupo rush. As, among other articles of diet, the putrid maize is prepared in these sheds, the European traveller is often glad to find that the abominable mess will be cooked at a distance from him.

Some of the larger pahs contain a great number of houses, and several of them are inhabited by at least two thousand people. Civilization has at the present day exercised great influence upon the pahs, and reduced them, as a rule, to fortresses rather than villages. In many districts the use of the pah has been practically abandoned, those natives who wish to be at peace devoting themselves to the cultivation of the ground and living in scattered houses, without caring for the protection of the fence.

The [illustration No. 2], on page 877, is taken from a sketch by Mr. Angas, representing the interior of a pah as seen by him in 1844. One or two of the houses are seen scattered about, adorned with the grotesque figures of which the Maori is so fond, and having several of the inmates sitting under the shelter of the deep verandah. Rather in the background are one or two of the ingenious and beautifully carved storehouses, in which food is protected from the rats, and on one side is a great wooden tiki projecting from the ground. Just behind the large storehouse is seen the curious monument that marks the waki-tapu, or sacred burial-place of a chief, a half canoe being planted in the ground and painted with elaborate patterns in red, the color for mourning and war among the New Zealanders.

Groups of the natives may be seen scattered about, conspicuous among whom is the council that is sitting in the foreground, under the presidency of the seated chief, whose hani, or staff of office, marks his dignity. A slave woman is seen working at her task of beating the flax leaves; and wandering promiscuously about the pah, or lying comfortably asleep, are the pigs, with which every village swarms.

We now come to the tools with which the Maori performs all this wonderful amount of carpentering and carving.

Looking at the results, we might naturally fancy that the dusky architect possessed a goodly array of tools; but, in fact, his tools are as few and simple as his weapons, and may be practically considered as two, the adze and the chisel. On the next page [an example] of each is drawn, the artist having taken care to select the best and most valuable specimens; the blades being formed from the precious green jade, and the handles carved elaborately, so as to be worthy of the valuable material from which the blades are shaped.

As may be imagined, these tools cannot have very sharp edges given to them, as the brittleness of the stone would cause it to chip into an edge like that of a bad saw, and in consequence the worst iron axe is a far better tool than the best specimen of green stonework that a Maori ever made.

At [No. 3] may be seen one of the common “tokis,” or stone axes, that were formerly so much used in building canoes. The specimen from which it is drawn is in my collection, and I have selected it for illustration because it gives so excellent an idea of the structure of the tool, and the mode of fastening the blade to the handle. This is achieved in a very ingenious manner, and although it scarcely seems possible to secure the requisite firmness by a mere lashing of string, the Maori workman has contrived to attach the blade as firmly as if it had been socketed.

This mode of fastening the blade to the handle prevails over the greater part of the Polynesian group, and, although the elaboration of the lashings varies considerably, the principle is exactly the same throughout. The same plan prevails even in Borneo, and there is in my collection a boat-builder’s adze, the iron blade of which is lashed to the socket in precisely the same manner, the only difference being that split rattan is employed instead of string. The reader will notice the peculiar shape of the adze-edge, which is exactly that of the incisor tooth of any rodent animal. Whether the maker intentionally copied the tooth is doubtful, but that he has done so is evident.

Tools such as these are necessarily imperfect; yet with these the Maories patiently executed the elaborate and really artistic designs which they once lavished on their dwellings, their canoes, their weapons, and their tools. They could not even make a walking stick but they must needs cover it with carvings. There is in my collection, and illustrated at [fig. 4], a remarkably fine example of such a walking stick, called in the Maori tongue “toko-toko,” which was presented to me by Stiverd Vores, Esq. As the reader may see from the illustration it is ornamented with six complete human figures, and a human face on the knob of the handle. The portions of the stick that come between the figures are completely covered with carving, and the only plain surface is that which is intended to be grasped by the hand.

The six figures are in three pairs, set back to back, and those of each pair exactly resemble one another. A distinct gradation is observed in them, the uppermost pair having their faces most elaborately tattooed, the middle pair being less ornamented, and the lowermost pair having a comparatively simple tattoo. In the position of the heads there is also a distinction, which I believe to have some signification known to the carver. The upper pair have the left hand laid on the breast, and the right hand pressed to the lips; the middle pair have the left hand still on the breast, and the right fingers touching the throat; while the lower figures have both hands clasped on the breast.

All the figures are separated, except at the backs of the heads, the hips, and the heels, where they touch each other; so that the labor expended on this stick has been very great.

We now take farewell of this interesting race—a race which is fast waning away, and will soon perish altogether. No New Zealander will ever sit on the broken arches of London Bridge, and contemplate the ruins of St. Paul’s. The Maori is fast disappearing, and in a comparatively few years it is certain that not a Maori of pure blood will be found in the islands; and before a century has elapsed, even the characteristic tattoo will be a remembrance of the past, of which the only memorials will be the dried heads that have been preserved in European museums. It is pitiful that such a race should be passing away; but its decadence cannot be arrested, and in a short time the Maories will be as completely extinct as the people of the stone age, leaving nothing but their manufactures as memorials of their existence. Such memorials, therefore, ought to be sedulously preserved. Every piece of genuine native carving that can be found in New Zealand ought to be secured and brought to England, where it can be preserved for future ages, and, with the isolated specimens that are scattered in private houses throughout the country, ought to be gathered together in some central museum, where they can be accessible to all who interest themselves in the grand science of anthropology.

(1.) MAORI PADDLES.
(See [page 854].)

(2.) GREEN JADE ADZE AND CHISEL.
(See [page 880].)

(3.) COMMON STONE ADZE.
(See [page 880].)

(4.) TOKO-TOKO.
(See [page 880].)

CHAPTER LXXXVIII.
NEW CALEDONIA.

POSITION AND DIMENSIONS OF NEW CALEDONIA — APPEARANCE AND DRESS OF THE NATIVES — THE DANCING MASK — NATIVE ARCHITECTURE — SMOKE AND MOSQUITOES — WARFARE — CURIOUS WEAPONS — THE SLING AND THE SPEAR — MODE OF THROWING THE SPEAR — THE OUNEP, OR “AMENTUM” OF THE ANCIENTS — SHAPE OF THE CLUB — OBJECTS OF WAR — CANNIBALISM — THE KNIFE AND FORK — DIET AND COOKERY IN GENERAL — THE NOUGUI SPIDER — MODE OF DRINKING — CHARACTER OF THE NEW CALEDONIANS — AN INGENIOUS THEFT — THE KATA — THE ISLE OF PINES, AND ITS INHABITANTS.

East of Australia is a tolerably large island known by the name of New Caledonia. It is of no very great extent, but is inhabited by a people who deserve a short notice in these pages.

The New Caledonians are nearly black in color, and in general form and appearance bear some resemblance to the aborigines of Tasmania. They are, however, better looking, and wear altogether a less savage aspect, probably on account of the comparatively regular supplies of food which they can obtain. They are of ordinary stature, but one man was seen who measured rather more than six feet in height. His form, however, was ill proportioned. They wear scarcely any dress, the men having generally a single leaf hanging from their girdles, or at the most a strip of soft bark answering the purpose of drawers, while the adult women wear a narrow fringed girdle, which passes several times round the waist.

Their hair is woolly and short, but at a distance many of them would be taken for long-haired people, in consequence of a habit of making artificial tresses some two feet in length, out of grass and the hair of a bat. Some of these appendages are so long that they fall to the middle of the back. Round the head is sometimes tied a small net with wide meshes, and the chiefs wear an odd sort of a hat. These hats are cylindrical, and decorated with a large circular ornament at each side, a plume of feathers at the top, and a long drooping tuft of grass and hair that hangs down the back. The hat forms no protection to the head, having no crown to it, and is only used as a mark of rank.

The natives also make a sort of mask, very ingeniously cut out of wood, having the mouth open and the eyes closed. The wearer looks, not through the eyes, but through some apertures which are made in the upper part of the mask. It is supposed that these masks are employed in war, when the combatants desire to disguise themselves from their opponents. This, however, is only a conjecture. I have little doubt that the wooden mask described and figured by D’Entrecasteaux is nothing more than an ornament used in the native dances. It is, in fact, the “momo,” which is described by more recent travellers. When complete, the “momo” is decorated with plumes of feathers, long tufts of hair, and a thick, coarse network, which does duty for a beard, and descends as far as the knees of the wearer.

A mask made in a precisely similar manner is used by the natives of Vancouver’s Island, but is employed by them in their dances. One of these masks is in my collection, and will be described in the course of the work.

Ear ornaments of various kinds are in favor among the New Caledonians, and some, of the natives enlarge the hole in the lobe to such an extent that it forms a long loop, the end of which falls on the shoulders. Occasionally, they try the elasticity of the ear too much, and tear it completely through. Anything seems to be worn in the ears, and when a New Caledonian cannot find a suitable ornament, he fills up the ear with a leaf or a roll of bark. They do not tattoo themselves, but draw black lines across the breast with charcoal, the lines being broad, and traced diagonally across the breast. Necklaces of various kinds are worn, and these ornaments bear a certain resemblance to those of New Guinea, consisting principally of a twisted string, to which is suspended a shell or piece of bone, carved in a manner which the natives are pleased to consider as ornamental.

Although by nature the men possess thick and stiff beards, these hirsute ornaments are generally removed, the hair being pulled up by the roots by means of a pair of shells used in lieu of tweezers.

Architecture among the New Caledonians is infinitely superior to that of Australia, and in some respects almost equals that of New Zealand. The houses are conical in shape, and often reach from ten to eleven feet in height in the middle.

The principle on which the huts are built is perfectly simple. The native architect begins by digging a hole in the ground, and planting in it a stout pole, some fifteen feet in length, and nine or ten inches in circumference. A number of smaller poles or rafters are set in the ground around the standard or central pole, their bases being planted in the earth and their tips leaning against the standard. Smaller branches are interwoven among the rafters, and the whole is rendered weather-tight by dried herbage lashed to the walls.

These simple walls are often several inches in thickness; and as the natives spread thick mats on the floor, they are well sheltered from the weather.

The entrance is very small, never above three feet in height, and on occasions can be closed with a rude door made of palm branches. Some of the latter kind of huts have regular door-posts, on which are carved rude imitations of the human face. A fire is almost always kept burning inside the hut, not so much for the sake of warmth or for culinary purposes, as to form a defence against mosquitoes. Smoke, therefore, is encouraged; and, though it may be the lesser of two evils, it forms a great drawback to the comfort of Europeans, who can defy the mosquitoes by their clothes, and can protect themselves at night by means of curtains. The central post of the house is mostly decorated with shells, and carved at the top into the shape of a human being.

Each house is usually surrounded with a fence some four or five feet in height, and within the hut there is a curious piece of furniture which gives to the rude habitation quite a civilized look. This is a wooden shelf, suspended by cords exactly like our hanging bookshelves. It is hung about four feet from the ground, but as the cords are very slight, it can support only a trifling weight. The native name for this shelf is “paite.”

We will now proceed from domestic to military life, and devote a small space to warfare among the New Caledonians.

It is very remarkable that among these naked and peculiarly savage cannibals we should find two of the weapons of war which were in greatest favor among the civilized Romans of the classic times. These are the sling and the javelin, the latter being cast by a peculiar arrangement of a thong, so that, in point of fact, the New Caledonian warrior does not only sling the stone, but the spear also.

We will take these weapons in order, the sling coming first, as being the simpler of the two weapons.

The construction of the sling or “wendat,” as the natives call it, is very simple, the weapon being merely a doubled thong with a pouch in the middle, in which the stone is placed. This pouch is made of two small cords laid side by side, and as the smooth stone might slip out of it, the slinger always wets the missile in his mouth before placing it in the pouch. The stones are cut out of a hard kind of steatite, which can take a good polish. They are oval in shape, and are carefully ground down by friction, the surface becoming very smooth in the process.

Thirty or forty of these stones are kept in a small net, which is fastened to the left side of the slinger. In [illustration No. 1], on page 893, one of the warriors is seen with his sling in his hand, and the net filled with stones fastened to his side. When the slinger wishes to hurl a stone, he does not waste time and strength by whirling the sling round and round, but merely gives it one half turn in the air, and discharges the missile with exceeding force and wonderful accuracy of aim. In consequence of only giving one half turn to the sling, the stones can be hurled nearly as fast as they can be thrown by the hand, and the weapon is therefore an exceedingly formidable one in the open field when fire-arms are not opposed to it.

We now come to the spear, or rather javelin.

This weapon is of very great length, some specimens measuring fourteen or fifteen feet from butt to point; and unless the warrior were able to supplement the natural strength of his arm by artificial means, he would not be able to throw the spear more than a few yards. He has therefore invented an instrument by which he can hurl this long and unwieldly weapon to a considerable distance. The principle on which this instrument is formed is identical with that of the Australian throw-stick, but there is a difference in the application. The Australian throw-stick is straight, rigid, and is applied to the butt of the spear, whereas the implement used by the New Caledonian is flexible, elastic, and applied to a spot a little behind the middle of the spear.

This instrument is ingeniously simple. It is nothing more than a plaited cord or thong made of a mixture of cocoa-nut fibre and fish-skin. It is a foot or more in length, and is furnished at one end with a knob, while the other is worked into a loop. This elastic cord is called by the natives “ounep.” When the warrior desires to throw a spear, he slips the loop over the forefinger of his right hand, and allows it to hang in readiness for the spear. As soon as the time comes for the spear to be thrown, the man balances the weapon for a moment so as to find the middle, and then casts the end of the thong round it in a sailor’s half-hitch, drawing it tight with his forefinger.

As long as pressure is thus kept upon the thong, it retains its hold of the spear; and as soon as it is released, “the half-hitch” gives way and allows the spear to free itself. The mode of throwing is therefore evident. The warrior holds the loop of the thong on his forefinger, the rest of the hand grasping the spear. As he throws the weapon, he loosens the hold of his hand, and so hurls the spear by means of the thong.

The classical reader will doubtless remember that this thong or “ounep” is precisely the “amentum” of the ancients, but is actually superior in its construction and manipulation. The amentum was simply a loop of cord or leather fastened to the shaft of the javelin just behind the balance. When the warrior wished to throw a spear, he grasped the shaft in his hand, inserted his fingers in the loop, and by means of the additional leverage was able to throw a heavy weapon to a considerable distance. See, for example, Ovid’s Metamorphoses, xii. 321:

“Inserit amento digitos, nec plura locutus,

In juvenem torsit jaculum;”

in English, “He inserted his fingers into the amentum, and, without saying more, whirled the dart at the youth.” Commentators have been extremely perplexed about this passage. In the first place they were rather uncertain as to the meaning of the word “amentum,” and in the second place, they could not see the force of the word “torsit,” i. e. whirled. The reader will, however, see how perfectly appropriate is the term, the spear being flung with a whirling movement as a stone from a sling. The same word is used by Virgil: “Intendunt acres arcus, amentaque torquent.” Another writer also alludes to this instrument:

“Amentum digitis tende prioribus,

Et totis jaculum dinige viribus;”

i. e. “Stretch the amentum with your first fingers, and aim the javelin with your full strength.”

Ingenious as was the amentum of the ancients, the ounep is far superior to it. With the ancients a separate amentum had to be fixed to each spear, while among the New Caledonians only one ounep is required.

Besides these weapons, the club is much used, and great ingenuity is shown in its manufacture. The shape and size of the clubs are extremely variable, and in some of them the natives have exhibited a surprising amount of artistic skill, the curves being singularly bold and flowing. One of these clubs, which is indeed a typical form, is in my collection. The form of the head is evidently taken from the beak of a bird, and the curves are exceedingly bold and sweeping. It is rather more than three feet in length, and it weighs almost exactly two pounds and a half.

War is in New Caledonia, as in New Zealand, the chief occupation of the men. The first lesson that a child receives is fighting, and the idea is prevalent with him as long as he lives. As soon as he is born, the boy is consecrated to the god of war, and a hard black stone is laid on his breast, as a symbol that his heart must be as hard as a stone in battle. Even the women take a share in the fighting, and, though they are not actual combatants, they follow their relatives to the battle, in order to seize the bodies of slain enemies, and drag them away to the cooking oven. Strife is always fomented by the priests from interested motives, inasmuch as the hands of the slain are their perquisites, and among the connoisseurs in cannibalism the palms of the hands are the most delicate portions of the human body.

Primarily the New Caledonians are cannibals because they are warriors, the body of a dead enemy being always supposed to be eaten by the victors. There is mostly a fight over the body of a fallen warrior, the one party trying to drag it away to the cooking oven, and the other endeavoring to save it for burial by themselves.

As a rule, however, the body is carried off by the women, who have the task of cooking it. The preparation of the body is quite a ceremonial, each part of it belonging by right to certain individuals, and even the carving being regulated by strict rules. A peculiar kind of knife is made of flat serpentine stone, oval in form, and about seven inches in length. Two holes are bored on one side of it, by means of which it is fastened to a wooden handle. This knife is called “nbouet.”

With the nbouet the body is opened, and the whole of the intestines are torn out by means of a fork made expressly for the purpose. This fork is composed of two human armbones placed side by side, about an inch apart, and fastened tightly together. They are sharply pointed, and are very effectual instruments for the purpose. Sometimes the bodies are cut up for cooking, but in many cases they are baked entire, the women priding themselves in serving them up in a sitting posture, furnished and dressed in full war costume.

Thus, then, we see that cannibalism is connected with warfare; but unfortunately it is not restricted to war. When Captain D’Entrecasteaux went in search of La Pérouse, one of the natives was eating a newly-roasted piece of meat. The naturalist to the expedition immediately recognized it as being part of the body of a child. The man who was eating it did not attempt to deny the fact, but even pointed out on the body of a little boy the part of the body which he was eating, and gave his hearers to understand that the flesh of children was very good.

This cannibalism of New Caledonia explained some curious gestures which the natives were fond of making. They used to be very familiar with their white visitors, feeling their arms and legs, looking at each other with admiration, and then whistling and smacking their lips loudly. In point of fact, they were admiring the well-fed limbs of the white men, and anticipating to each other the delights of a feast upon the plump Europeans.

As, however, flesh is but a luxury among the New Caledonians, and cannot be considered as an ordinary article of diet, the natives depend chiefly for their existence on vegetable food. Roots of various kinds are eaten by them, as well as cocoa-nut and other fruit; all the cooking, as well as the work in general, being performed by the women. Shell-fish are also much eaten, and are procured by the women. The large clam-shell is found on the shores of the island, and supplies abundance of food; while the smaller molluscs are mostly dug out of the sand by women, who frequently spend half a day up to their waists in water.

Two very strange articles of diet are in use among the New Caledonians. The first is a sort of spider, which spins large and thick nets in the woods, often incommoding travellers by the number and strength of the silken cords. They are not eaten raw, but cooked by being placed in a covered earthen jar, which is set on a brisk fire. The natives call the spider by the name of “nougui.” It is gray above, the back being covered with a fine silvery down, and below it is black.

The second article of diet is clay, of which the natives will consume a great amount. The earth in question is a soft greenish steatite, which crumbles very easily, and has the property of distending the stomach, and so allays the cravings of hunger, even though it does not nourish the body. A well-distended stomach is one of the great luxuries of a savage, and, in accordance with this idea, a man was seen to eat a piece of steatite twice as large as his fist, even though he had just taken a full meal. Some of the natives have been known to eat as much as two pounds of this substance. A similar propensity is found both in Africa and America.

When they drink at a pool or river, they have an odd fashion of dipping the water with their hands, and flinging it into their mouths, so that much more water is splashed over their heads than enters their mouths.

With regard to the bodies of those who fall in war, and are rescued from the enemy, many ceremonies are employed. According to Captain Head, in his “Voyage of the Fawn” they are “brought home with loud lamentations, and buried with great wailing and shrieking from the appointed mourners, who remain unclean often for several years after burying a great chief, and are subject to many strict observances. For weeks they continue nightly to waken the forest echoes with their cries. After ten days have elapsed, the grave is opened, and the head twisted off; and, again in this custom resembling the Andaman islanders, the teeth are distributed as relics among the relatives, and the skull preserved as a memorial by the nearest kin, who daily goes through the form of offering it food.

“The only exceptions are in the case of the remains of old women, whose teeth are sown in the yam patches as a charm to produce good crops; their skulls set up upon poles being deemed equally potent in this respect.”

The general character of the New Caledonians seems to be tolerably good, and, in spite of their evident longing after the flesh of their visitors, they are not on the whole inhospitable. They are clever thieves, and are ingenious in robbery by means of an accomplice. On one occasion, when a native was offering for sale a basket full of sling-stones, and was chaffering about the price, an accomplice came quietly behind the white man and uttered a loud yell in his ears. Naturally startled, he looked behind him, and in a moment the man with whom he was trading snatched away the basket and the goods offered in exchange, and ran away with them.

One of the officers was robbed of his cap and sword in an equally ingenious manner. He had seated himself on the ground, and for better security had placed his sword under him. Suddenly one of the natives snatched off his cap, and as he instinctively rose to rescue it, another man picked up his sword and escaped with it. They even tried to steal a ship’s boat, together with the property in it, and would not leave it until they were attacked by a strong body of armed sailors.

They make very good canoes—as, indeed, is generally the case with islanders. The largest canoes are mostly double, two boats being placed alongside of each other, and connected by a platform. They have a single mast, which is stepped toward one end of the compound vessel, and can sail with considerable swiftness, though they are not so manageable as those of New Guinea, some of which are marvels of boat-building. They can accommodate a considerable number of passengers, and have generally a fire burning on the platform, which is protected from the heat by a thick layer of earth.

A rather remarkable custom prevails among them, which derives its chief interest from the fact that it is practised in Northern Asia. This is the Kata, or scarf of felicity. It is a little scarf, of white or red material; and when two persons meet they exchange their katas—a ceremony which is analogous to shaking hands among ourselves.

Whether these savages are the aborigines of the island is doubtful. If they be so, they seem to have declined from the comparative civilization of their ancestors. This, indeed, is their own opinion; and, in support of this theory, they point to the ruins which are still to be seen, and which tell of architecture far beyond the power of the present natives. There are even the remains of an aqueduct eight miles in length, a piece of engineering which would never have entered the head of the New Caledonian of the present day. Perhaps these works of art may have been constructed by immigrants, who have since left them to perish; but, in any case, their presence in such a spot is most remarkable.

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