FOOTNOTES:
[26] Designated South Island in New Zealand Official Year-Book for 1907.
[27] Te Matanga never had existence outside these pages. He typifies those energetic men, found in every nation, who devote themselves to the service of their fellows. The discoveries attributed to Te Matanga were the outcome of the application of many minds to various problems, as the Maori spread over the country and became acquainted with its capacity and products.
[28] Phormium tenax, the so-called New Zealand flax, flourishes in swampy ground. In appearance it is a collection of broad, stiff, upstanding leaves, tough enough to stop a bullet, dense enough to conceal a man. Many a fugitive has escaped by dodging from the heart of one bush into that of another. Both of the varieties come to highest perfection in the north.
[29] The grey rat, which accompanied the Pakeha, exterminated the native rat, and was never eaten by the Maori. Curiously enough, during the wars, the Maori were accustomed to speak of the "Pakeha Rat" just as in the days of the first George, Englishmen spoke of the "Hanoverian Rat," and with the same significance.
[30] Not any particular species of lizard, but a generic term for the whole family.
[31] A mythical monster, presumed to have had the shape of a saurian, inhabited the sea and, according to some, the depths of vast forests. The powers of this demon for ill were boundless, and it was regarded with the deepest awe by every Maori.
[32] A charm.
[33] Oestrelata neglecta (Schlegel's Petrel).
[34] Dinornis moa.
[35] Apteryx.
[36] Dammara australis, the kauri pine.
[37] This is no exaggeration.
[38] A pine.
[39] Red pine.
[40] Black pine.
[41] Heteralocha acutirostris.
THE GROWTH OF THE RACE
The various Maori tribes were not bound by any common tie save that of race, nor did they own allegiance to a chief chosen by all to rule over the whole nation. Their laws and customs were for the most part similar; but cohesion between them gradually dissolved as each tribe realised its ability to stand alone.
The tribes (iwi) took origin in the family,[42] and were subdivided into sub-tribes (hapu), and, if the latter were large, into family groups, also termed hapu. Every division had its acknowledged chief, and the ariki, or chief of the highest class, who by right of birth stood at the head of the whole, was styled the Paramount Chief.
Powerful though such a man was, his actions did not go unchecked; for that ancient principle, noblesse oblige, was strongly implanted in Maori of rank. For a chief to be convicted of lying, of cowardice, of tyranny was black disgrace, and were these vices proved against a lord paramount or the head of a sub-tribe or hapu, action was at once taken. The offender was not deposed, but another man of rank quietly took his place for all practical purposes, save one.
A second check upon the chiefs was that mighty power which has been styled "the voice of God," namely, the voice of the people. General assemblies were from time to time convened, at which every man, and woman too, had the right to express opinions.[43] So, if only to escape the shame of exposure, the chiefs strove to conform to the established code of honour; but it is fair to say that they seem to have been animated by higher motives than concern for public opinion.
Each tribe was thus practically a republic, governed by a perpetual President, whose dignity and office were hereditary, but who was obeyed by the people only so long as he continued to deserve their allegiance.
The ariki was hereditary chief priest as well as chief citizen, and was a man apart. His back was not bent, nor his hands gnarled with toil, his person was inviolable, his sanctity great, and he was all in all to his people. He helped and consoled them in time of trouble, read their fate in the stars, their future in a host of natural objects, and interpreted their dreams. On one day he saw visions and prophesied; on the next he was busy with the work of a Lord Lyon or Garter King-of-Arms, instructing the Master of the Moko on behalf of some lusty warrior desirous of commemorating his own doughty deeds;[44] while he selected on a third a name for an infant, or presided at the obsequies of some notable chief or rangatira.
In Maori mythology Rangi, Heaven, and Papa, Earth, long ago dwelt in happiness with their six children, but the brothers, with the exception of the god of winds and storms, rebelled against their parents, and cruelly dragged them apart.
Yet their love remains unshaken, and Earth's sighs of longing, draped in clinging mist, every day ascend to Heaven; while Heaven's tears, a rain of refreshing dew, fall all night long upon Earth's sorrowful breast.
Rangi and Papa were in part avenged. Their dutiful son, Tawhiri-ma-tea, rushed against the rebels, thunder rolling, lightning flashing, hailstones rattling and hurricanes raging in his van. Scared by this stupendous manifestation of wrathful force, Tangaroa hurled himself into the sea, Rongomatane and Haumiatikitiki buried themselves under the earth they had insulted, and Tane Mahuta called upon his forests to cover him. Only Tumatauenga, father of men and god of war, stood firm, scowling defiance at his brother of the storm.
So has it been ever since, and Tawhiri-ma-tea, unable to overthrow his brother, continues to take a bitter vengeance upon the war-god's children. Men, whom he pursues on sea and land with tempest and tornado, ever seeking to slay and make an end.
Under the collective name of Atua, the above were the principal gods of the Maori. Every tribe possessed an honoured tohunga-whakairo, or woodcarver; but the quaint finial figures upon the gables of their houses were not adored as gods, the Children of Maui never having been idolaters.
The Maori looked forward to a future existence wherein their state and condition would remain very much as they had been in this world. A slave in life continued a slave after death, and, when a great chief died, several of his slaves were slain, that he might not go unattended among his fellow shades.
The abodes of the departed were Rangi, occupied on different planes by gods and men of heroic type, and Reinga, under the sea at the extreme north of the North Island, where dwelt only the spirits of men.
There was no question of reward or punishment. The dead simply continued to exist in spirit form, occasionally revisiting the scenes of their former life. These visitors preferably occupied the bodies of lizards, which explains the abhorrence in which these reptiles were held by the Maori, who, though they revered and prayed to their ancestors, were terribly afraid of meeting their pale ghosts, or transmigrated souls.
The tohunga, or sorcerers, exercised unbounded influence over the minds of the Maori. Their duties on occasion coincided with those of the ariki, and their position, too, was hereditary; but, while men revered, and often loved their chief, their respect for the tohunga was tinctured with fear and, not seldom, with hate. The chief could lay tapu upon a man, which was bad enough; but the tohunga could bewitch him outright, condemning the poor wretch to loss of worldly gear, aches and pains, and even to death itself. The ariki thought it no shame to go in dread of the tohunga, while, let the tutua, or common fellow, be once convinced that the malign eye of the wizard had bewitched him, and he not infrequently laid him down and died.
There did not exist among the Maori a middle class as we understand the term. Every Maori whose birth placed him in a position between the aristocracy and the tutua class was a warrior by choice. Among such were men of property, poets, philosophers, literary men who did not write, but told their stories to eager audiences—in a word, gentlemen of leisure until the need for fighting arose. In the infrequent intervals of peace these, if you will, represented the middle class; but, once "let slip the dogs of war," and they cried "havoc" with the best of them. The Maori warrior, or toa, unlike the Japanese Samurai, did not live for war alone, but was ever ready when it came.
When speaking of the conduct and character of the high chiefs, it was mentioned that they were rarely deposed. The reason why, may be expressed in one word—land. Bad or good, the chief had a fuller knowledge with regard to land than any other person concerned.
It is necessary clearly to comprehend what follows; for the misunderstandings which arose between the Maori and the colonists over the tenure of land had much to do with the origin of the long strife between them.
When the canoes from Hawaiki had discharged their passengers at the various spots selected by the chiefs in command, each one of the latter took possession of a district which became his property, and the property of all his followers, every free male and female among them being part proprietor. In other words, the land was common to the tribe.
In consequence of this community of ownership every additional person born claimed ownership by right of descent. As time went on only the few could have told exactly what their rights were; but every Maori was assured that the land belonged to him and that it could not be disposed of without his sanction.
The chiefs share was the largest, because of his direct descent from the chief who originally took possession of the district; but even in this distinguished instance the voice of the people made itself heard, and the chief himself could not part absolutely with the land unless by common consent. The land might be leased to strangers, but the only way in which the owners could be dispossessed was by conquest.
As with chiefs, so with humbler folk. The land held by a family was not theirs to dispose of without the consent of the tribe. A family of one tribe might lease to a family of another tribe; or an entire tribe might transfer its holding; but the land was not given away for ever, and could be reclaimed at a future date.
The colonists could never understand this principle; nor could the Maori comprehend that land, once exchanged for money or goods, had for ever passed away from them. Endless difficulties arose with the Pakeha, because every descendant of the original possessor of land claimed a share of the property and of the price. It is indubitable that this conflict of the laws of one race with the law of another caused much of the bitter strife which arose later.
The position of the chief thus rendered him the person of most importance with regard to land. In his family were kept records, such as they were; in his memory were stored facts concerning the district, which he had received from his father, who, in his day, had received them from his father.
Who, then, so well fitted to decide an argument, adjust disputes, settle the right and wrong of any questions concerning land? The deposition of such a man might have been followed by his withdrawal from the hapu, perhaps from the tribe itself, an irreparable loss to those who relied upon him for correct information respecting their landed property.
The origin of tapu, that tremendous engine of power, that law above the law, is lost in obscurity, so very ancient is the custom, and all that we know about its curious working is derived from observations made in the South Sea Islands, where alone it is now found in anything like its old power.
The law of tapu served as a fairly efficient, if vexatious, promoter of law and order. Broadly stated, tapu stood for two principles—protection and punishment, and the person or thing affected by it was a person or thing apart, not even to be touched under pains and penalties the most severe.
Chiefs were permanently tapu, as it was necessary that their exalted state should be clearly recognisable; so they were placed upon a pinnacle of isolation which extended to their property as well as to themselves.
Food of many kinds was permanently tapu; for animal food was always scarce, and choice vegetables could be cultivated only after a tough struggle with the land. Therefore, since one tribe frequently infringed the rights of another it became necessary to render the common stock of provisions secure against depredators from within. Ordinary food which happened to come in contact with anything tapu, was instantly thrown away, lest by touching or eating it some innocent person should himself become tapu.
Swift retribution fell on him who with greed in his heart stole, or even touched with itching fingers, the succulent kumara, if the mark of tapu were upon them. Such a fellow was stripped of his possessions, cast out, perhaps, of the tribe, or, for the worst offence of all, had his brains deftly scattered by order of his chief.
The plight of the poor wretch who touched the dead, accidentally or in the way of business, was dismal in the extreme. For the dead were tapu in an extraordinary degree, and who touched a corpse became as a leper, shunned by all, lest they, too, should be tainted. Among other disabilities, such an one must not touch food with his hands. Did he so, the food became tapu, and was thrown away from the very jaws of the hungry one, who was consequently obliged to put his mouth to the platter and eat like a dog, or else submit to be fed with a very long spoon by some friend more sympathetic, or less timid than the majority.
This principle of noli me tangere was also applied temporarily. Trees from which canoes could be made were tapu, while stretches of coast abounding in shell-fish, the haunts of sea-birds and rich fishing-grounds were preserved for the common good. Many customs, related to tapu, were followed in time of war by the warriors, while non-combatants by prayer, fasting, and the practice of severe austerities, proved how closely the idea of tapu was allied with that of religion.
Tapu was simply imposed, but its removal was a serious business. Prayers were chanted, water freely sprinkled over the person or thing to be released, and the ovens were busy cooking food during the whole time of the proceedings. Here it seems possible to trace a connection between tapu and parts of the Jewish ceremonial law. As sacrifices and burnt-offerings were required before an unclean Jew could be pronounced clean, so among the Maori it was impossible to lift tapu without the simultaneous cooking of food. How, if ever, the Jews influenced the Malays, Polynesians, and Maori, antiquaries may be able some day to determine.
When the Pakeha first came to New Zealand, they often ignorantly violated tapu, and how much they suffered in consequence depended upon the character and temper of the community. The Maori were not ungenerous, and in cases of inadvertence frequently made allowances and spared accordingly. On the other hand, two great navigators, Captain Cook and Marion du Fresne, were slain because of their trespass on ground which was tapu, and sacred in the eyes of the South Sea Islanders.
Tapa—to command—was in effect the law of might against right, that
Good old rule, the simple plan,
That they should take who have the power,
And they should keep who can.
In practice it consisted in commanding, or, as we might say, "commandeering" anything one fancied to one's own use.
Indicating the desired object, the claimant would observe, "That club"—or tree, or canoe, or whatever it happened to be, "is tapa to me. It is my skull," or "my eye," or "my backbone. I command it to myself."
The article thus denominated was held to belong to the claimant, since no one could justly urge that a man's skull, eye or backbone was not his own. Yet, if the practice were abused, an appeal could be made, and a chief had power to undo the tapa and order restitution of the property claimed. After a battle, disputes frequently arose between those who claimed priority in having applied the tapa to articles in possession of a foe whom they had then still to vanquish.
This was the law of muru, which the Maori accepted philosophically enough, because, though vexatious, it fell with equal severity upon all.
If a man committed an offence against the community, he was punished by the community, his fellow-tribesmen adjusting the fine and collecting it with a generous appreciation of their individual requirements.
For example, if one accidentally killed another, he was punished for depriving the community of a useful member. If a man carelessly damaged public property, he was punished by the loss of his own. Even if the damage done merely affected another private person, compensation was assessed by means of muru, and, as no money circulated in those days, the fine was exacted in goods.
The victim of his own indiscretion, sighing at the crookedness of fate, always made provision against the day of reckoning and, having politely inquired on what day muru was to be enforced, issued instructions to the ladies of his family to prepare the best feast possible in the time at their command.
On the appointed day the avengers arrived, yelling "Murua! Murua!" An idea of the justice of what followed may be gathered when it is stated that muru means "plunder."
Each member of the party is armed, and so is the rueful sinner who awaits developments with sensations much resembling those of the Jew in presence of King John and his rough-and-ready dentists.
A lull occurs in the yelling, and the dolorous knight inquires ingenuously, "What is this, O my friends? Why do you brandish spear and club as though to point the road to Reinga?"
"You killed my brother!" a tall fellow shouts in return. "Now I am going to kill you. Step forward at once to be killed!"
With horrid grimaces the bereaved gentleman capers before the doomed one, who divests himself of his mat, flourishes his spear, and replies with great fervour, "Since you so greatly desire to be made mince-meat of, you shall not be disappointed. I am for you!"
With that the two fall upon one another with frightful ferocity—or so it seems. Blows are dealt and thrusts exchanged amid the continuous howling of the champion's bodyguard, who, singularly enough, make no offer to rush his antagonist.
Why not? Because it is point of honour that no great harm is to be done. A gentleman is to receive punishment at the hands of his peers, but life must be left him, though almost everything which makes it worth the living is to be snatched from him. So, after a few bruises and scratches have been given and taken, the mimic combat ceases.
There is a short pause while the champion recovers his breath. Then he shouts at the top of his voice, "Murua! Murua!" which, freely translated, means "Loot! Loot!"—advice which is promptly followed.
As the sack proceeds the principals chat cheerfully, the plundered taking no notice whatever of the plunderers; for to betray the disgust he feels would be the height of ill-breeding.
At last, when every article which their unwilling host has thought it injudicious to conceal has been secured, the "collectors" reappear, laughing and eagerly expectant of an invitation to dinner.
It comes. The stricken gentleman courteously expresses his delight at this "unexpected" visit. Had he but known earlier he would have made adequate preparation. As it is—he waves his hand in the direction of the feast—there it is; and he bids his "dear friends" fall to.
Gorged and happy, the myrmidons of this queer law depart by and by, having carried out the muru, and left behind them a sorrowful gentleman, stripped of worldly gear. However, the unfortunate has the consoling knowledge that he has comported himself under trying circumstances as a man of breeding should, and also that, when opportunity shall arise, he will be entitled to go and do unto others as they have just done unto him.