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.