FOOTNOTES:
[1] The island—true site unknown—whence the ancestors of the Maori emigrated, according to tradition, to New Zealand.
[2] Obsidian, or volcanic glass.
[3] The Lament for the Dead.
[4] The Abode of the Shades.
[5] House. In Maori there are no silent vowels. Thus whare="wharry," not "whar"; kupe="ku-pe," not "koop."
[6] Maori names were frequently bestowed on account of mental or physical peculiarities, or of real or fancied resemblance to natural objects.
[7] Poor, low-born men to do menial work.
[8] The gods collectively. Fate.
[9] The ocean.
[10] Literally, "The Fish of Maui."
[11] Heaven and Earth. Short for Papa-tu-a-nuku.
[12] This prayer, preserved by tradition, was actually uttered by a chief upon the landing of the exiles from Hawaiki, after Ngahue's second, and final, voyage from his old home.
[13] The rainbow.
[14] The reference is to the gigantic, wingless bird, now extinct, the Moa—Dinornis moa.
[15] Good! Hurrah!
[16] Sweet potato—Ipomoea batatas.
[17] Corynocarpus laevigata.
[18] Water-hen—Porphyrio melanotus.
THE MEN WHO CAME
The foregoing is more or less traditional among the Maori as to their migration from some other place and settlement in New Zealand. Some facts have been handed down for generations, but the traditions are confused. When the first Pakeha[19] arrived, every Maori believed that certain events had happened in the far past; but there was little agreement as to the manner or sequence in which those events had occurred.
Many investigators—notably Sir George Grey—have inquired in the truest spirit of antiquarian research into the traditions of the Maori; and what between the discoveries of such trained observers, the dabblings of the amateur, and the luck of the "rolling-stones," who have picked up a tale here and a legend there, we have a fairly clear account of the coming of the Maori to New Zealand, as far as it is uncertainly known and hazily remembered among themselves.
One fact, at least, is established. The Maori pertain to the Polynesian section of the great southern archipelago, not to the Melanesian. Most eminent ethnologists agree that the pure Polynesians are descended through the Malays from a very remote Asiatic stock.
No bolder navigators, no more merciless pirates than the Malays ever sailed the sea, and, as they skimmed over the blue in their queer proas, their fierce eyes searching the horizon for the sail of some helpless trader, they not infrequently made some hitherto unknown island. Adventurers all, they occupied the place if it were their whim, and mixed with or exterminated the original inhabitants. Thus their stock spread in the course of centuries over all Polynesia, giving populations to Tonga, to the Samoan, Sandwich, Society and other islands, and, more important to our theme, to New Zealand.
It is reasonably certain that, apart from haphazard adventure, there was once an emigration on a large scale, and it would seem that the pioneers of Polynesian colonisation left their home in Sumatra for the islands of their choice some nine or ten hundred years ago.
Centuries go on their appointed course and become the Past; the immigrants, long acclimatised, have only vague memories and fanciful traditions of their origin. They are no longer Malays; they are Polynesians. Climate, associations, food have worked an alteration in them; their skin is browner, their eyes less sleepy, their figures taller and more symmetrical, their features handsomer than in the forgotten days in Sumatra, cradle of their race. Their language, too, has undergone a marked change, and only traces of the parent stock are discoverable in their customs. One practice, occasional amongst their ancestors, they have unhappily not forgotten; for the Polynesians have established the flesh of their enemies—when they can get it—as the prime article in their dietary. They are not so abandoned in this respect as their neighbours of Melanesia; but they are smirched with the same pitch, and an unpleasant defilement it is.
More centuries roll on; in Europe the night of the Middle Ages is at its darkest, but in far-off Polynesia the dawn is at hand. On an unnamed island within that vast area there is unrest and tribulation, out of which a nation is presently to be born.
Where this island of Hawaiki was situated not even the Maori tradition can certainly determine. Some will have it that Rarotonga in the Cook Islands was once Hawaiki; but all that can be said with accuracy is that, some five or six hundred years ago, a company of Polynesians, perhaps a thousand strong, left the island on which they had been born and sailed the sea in search of a new home.
In time they made the North Island of New Zealand, which, delighted with its beauty and fertility, they decided to occupy. They landed at various points and wandered ever farther south, increasing and multiplying in numbers, until at last some of the most adventurous crossed Cook Strait and began to people the Middle Island. And these Polynesian immigrants were the ancestors of the race of men whom we now know as Maori.
Some recent investigators hold that the North Island was then possessed by peaceable folk calling themselves Moriori, who were speedily subdued by the warriors from Hawaiki. A remnant of the Moriori escaped, it is said, to the Chatham Islands, hoping to dwell in peace; but their evil fate pursued them, for the Ngati-Awa tribe migrated in 1835 to the same place, and the unfortunate Moriori were again conquered and enslaved.
Wherever the birthplace of the Maori, it lay within the tropics. The nearer the equator, the shorter the interval between day and night, and thus it was that the Maori, struck by the beauty of a phenomenon wholly unfamiliar, styled their new home in affectionate admiration, Ao-tea-roa, "The Land of the Long Lingering Day," or "The Land of Twilight." Always poetical, others called it Aotea, or "The Land of the Dawn." These charming subtitles did not displace the original name, Te Ika A Maui, or, as some have it, Eaheinomawe,[20] but they serve to show the poetic mind of the Maori. Later on, the Middle Island received its native appellation, Te Wai Pounamou, or "The Waters of Greenstone," while Ra Ki Ura, "In the Glow of the Sun," denoted Stewart Island, the small triangle which forms the southern extremity of New Zealand.
So they came to their own, these handsome, stalwart men, and "black, but comely" women. You may see a group of them there upon the western beach, led by Te Turi, one of the pioneer chiefs who received this new jewel among countries from the hands of the gods. Perhaps they landed at dawn, for Te Turi called the place of disembarkation Aotea, which is literally "The White Day"; but he may have named the harbour out of compliment to the canoe which had carried them so far in safety, for it, too, was Aotea.
The white day swiftly turns to blue and gold, and all fatigue is forgotten for pure joy of being. The glory of summer is everywhere, and over all is that exquisite charm which belongs to Ao-tea-roa more than to any of the isles of the iridescent Southern Sea. Westward, the great ocean heaves and sparkles in the morning sun—not a cloud that way from zenith to horizon. Southward, far away, Ruapehu lifts his time-worn, snowy head three thousand feet above grim Tongariro's sullen, smoking cones, gazing ever where his ancient comrade, hoary Taranaki,[21] dwells in solitude by the thundering sea.
Long ago, these mighty ones stood shoulder to shoulder; but Taranaki, forgetting friendship, seized Pihinga, Tongariro's love, and strove to bear her away. Then Tongariro arose in his wrath, belching forth smoke and flames and red-hot stones, and smote Taranaki such a buffet that the giant reeled away, nor stopped until he reached the sea. Never did Taranaki return to his comrades. Alone he broods, rearing his great body eight thousand feet above the tide, his stricken head hidden under a veil of perennial snow.
Inland, the forest. But what a forest! Not the light emerald of waving palms of their almost unregretted Hawaiki, but a forest grand, obscure, a very twilight of verdure. Yet not all gloom; for the rata[22] are abloom, and splash the dark-green front with vivid crimson, and the white cornucopias of the "morning-glory," and the gorgeous, scarlet "beaks" of the kowhai[23] bejewel the undergrowth. Up from the ground the little "wild rose" twines the great stems to their topmost boughs, falling back to earth, a cascade of blossom; while, festooning and garlanding tall trunks and leafy tops, are flung the long tendrils of the puawananga,[24] its myriad white stars shining in the green night.
As they gaze, entranced, flocks of parakeets, screaming a harsh welcome, dash from the shimmering sky athwart the sombre front, like a rainbow shivered into fragments. There is a burst of appreciation, a hundred poetic expressions of delight, and Te Turi's company crowd about him, invoking blessings upon his head for his share in the discovery of this earthly paradise.
They are worth looking at, these jubilant Maori: the men strong and well built about the chest and shoulders, and carrying themselves as men should. Their hair is slightly wavy or curls freely, and matches well the steady, piercing eyes, stern lips, pronounced noses and haughty carriage of the head we are accustomed to style "Roman." The Malay type is fully evident, while others recall the Jew, and a very few approach the colour of the negro, but miss his characteristic features and woolly hair.
They are grave, dignified and impressed by the solemnity of the occasion; and the Light is shining in the darkness of their minds, for they stand in reverential attitudes while their great chief chants a thanksgiving to the gods and a short prayer of propitiation to the Spirit of the Land.
Most of the women and girls are weeping, for tears come easily to the Maori wahine (woman) even in moments of joy. But bright smiles presently flash out everywhere, showing dazzling teeth, while, though all are talking at once, their voices are so melodious that the babel is rather pleasant than otherwise.
Considering them more closely, we know that we are looking at a people exceptional, if not unique among savages.
Their intelligence is obvious; the voyage demonstrates their enterprise, and they will later prove their courage upon many a stricken field. Prudent they are, for they have brought the seeds of food-plants, while for companionship and, to some extent, for food, they gave their dogs a place in the canoes. Perhaps the rat, always a bit of an adventurer, stole aboard as a stowaway.
They are emotional, but not less brave because tears stood in their eyes as they listened to Te Turi's prayer. Their great chiefs solemn chant and the exclamations which greeted the forest in its summer dress show their poetic mind and their capacity for felicitous speech. Moreover, they are fond of fun and have a trenchant wit, if not a very lightsome humour. They are quick at repartee, and eloquent in discourse.
When their villages are built, you shall note how kind and hospitable they are to strangers of whatever race. Also, you shall be convinced that among the gentlemen of their tribes a lie is a thing abominable and abhorred, and the word of a chief, once passed, most rarely broken.
Are they then faultless, these newcomers to the land which Maui fished up from the sea? No; for they are men, and men yet stumbling in the night of paganism. There is no need to catalogue their faults; they are those common to savages, and too many of them will show clearly as this narrative progresses. Till then let us pass them over.
Take one more look at the faces of these old-time Maori. They differ from those of their descendants, for they are unmarked by tattoo.
The Maori of the immediate past were noted for the extraordinarily elaborate tattooing or, rather, carving, which embellished their faces and, sometimes, their hips. When the Pakeha arrived a Maori with beard, whiskers or moustache was as rare as the moa; for tattooing necessitated a smooth face, and each warrior was careful to pull out every offending hair from cheek, lips and chin.[25] Thus, neither the process nor the result was interfered with, and this was important, for every line, curve or mark of any kind had its significance.
Tattooing was by no means universal among the Polynesians, and the Maori tradition is firm that the faces of the immigrants from Hawaiki were innocent of tattoo, or moko, as the Maori method is styled, while beards were worn or not, according to individual taste.
It has always been a principle with savages to frighten their enemies by noise, facial contortions, masks, weird head-dresses and so on. When the Maori began to quarrel and fight, it occurred to one genius that a tremendous moral effect would be produced upon the enemy if he—the genius—were to blacken his face before going into battle. One would hardly suppose that a shade only two or three degrees deeper than the original would bring about any startling result; but our genius evidently succeeded, for the next time his tribe took the field the faces of all were black as the back of Tui, the Parson-bird.
Then it occurred to a wise old chief, named Rauru, that, if something permanent could be devised, much time and trouble would be saved. Remembering a visit he had paid to an island where tattooing was in force, he called a council and vigorously advocated the adoption of the practice. The suggestion was accepted and, as the process of moko is decidedly painful, there must have been many wry faces while it was being carried into effect.
No doubt, when their faces had been rendered sufficiently terrifying, this particular tribe had things all their own way for a time. But there is a sincere form of flattery known as imitation and, once the secret leaked out, matters took a turn. Before Te Ika A Maui was many moons older, every able-bodied man on the Island had tricked out his face in the new style, and was ready to meet the inventors upon equal terms.
Note.—Tattoo is a Polynesian word, not in use among the Maori. A skilful professor of the art of moko and whakairo (face and body decoration) was held in rare esteem. Instances are on record of slaves having vastly improved their status by the artistic use of the lancet and mallet employed in tattooing.