On the evening of the burial of any important chief, his friends kindled a number of fires at a distance of some twenty feet from each other, near the grave, and there they sat and kept them burning till morning light. This was continued sometimes for ten days after the funeral; it was also done before the burial. In the house where the body lay, or out in front of it, fires were kept burning all night by the immediate relatives of the departed. The common people had a similar custom. After burial they kept a fire blazing in the house all night, and had the space between the house and the grave so cleared as that a stream of light went forth all night from the fire to the grave. Whether this had its origin in any custom of burning the dead body, like the ancient Greeks, it is impossible now to ascertain. The probability, however, is that it had not. The account the Samoans give of it, is, that it was merely a light-burning in honour of the departed, and a mark of tender regard: just as we may suppose the Jews did after the death of Asa, when it is said they made a very great burning for him. Those commentators who hold that this and one or two other passages refer to a Jewish mark of respect, and not to the actual burning of the body, have in the Samoan custom which we have just named a remarkable coincidence in their favour.
The unburied occasioned great concern. “No Roman,” says Mr. Turner, “was ever more grieved at the thought of his unburied friend wandering a hundred years along the banks of the Styx than were the Samoans, while they thought of the spirit of one who had been drowned, or of another who had fallen in war, wandering about neglected and comfortless. They supposed the spirit haunted them everywhere night and day, and imagined they heard it calling upon them in a most pitiful tone, and saying, ‘Oh! how cold; oh! how cold.’ Nor were the Samoans, like the ancient Romans, satisfied with a mere tumulus-inanis (or empty grave), at which to observe the usual solemnities; they thought it was possible to obtain the soul of the departed in some tangible transmigrated form. On the beach, near where a person had been drowned, or on the battle-field, where another fell, might be seen sitting in silence a group of five or six, and one a few yards in advance, with a sheet of native cloth spread out on the ground before him. Addressing some god of the family, he said, ‘Oh! be kind to us; let us obtain without difficulty the spirit of the young man.’ The first thing that happened to light upon the sheet was supposed to be the spirit. If nothing came, it was supposed that the spirit had some ill-will to the person praying. That person after a time retired, and another stepped forward, addressed some other god, and waited the result. By-and-bye something came—grasshopper, butterfly, ant, or whatever else it might be; it was carefully wrapped up, taken to the family, the friends assembled, and the bundle buried with all due ceremony, as if it contained the real spirit of the departed.”
The burial, like all other customs of the New Zealanders, are very singular. Very little, however, was known concerning them until a recent date. At the time Captain Cook visited the country, everything connected with the disposal of their dead was concealed from him by the natives.
It is now known, however, that the dead bodies of slaves were thrown into holes or into the sea, or buried under the poles supporting houses; but the dead bodies of free persons were ever held in high respect. It was only, however, at the death of chiefs that the funeral rites of the people were celebrated. A chief on his death bed was surrounded by most of his relatives, his last words were treasured up, and the resignation with which the dying man submitted to his fate suggested to the mind that he died of his own will. The moment the vital spark fled, its departure was bewailed with doleful cries: abundance of water was shed in the form of tears, and the spectators groaned, sighed, and seemed inconsolable. But all was hollow, except with the immediate relatives of the deceased, and a specimen of the talent of the New Zealanders for dissimulation. Men, women, and children cut themselves with shells, and slaves were slain to attend on the dead in the next world, and in revenge for his death. Since the introduction of fire-arms, guns are fired off at the death of chiefs.
Twenty-four hours after death the body was washed and beaten with flax-leaves, to drive away evil spirits. Priests then dressed the corpse. The legs were bent, the body placed in a sitting attitude, the hair tied in a lump on the crown of the head, and ornamented with albatross feathers; garlands of flowers were wound round the temples, tufts of white down from a sea-bird’s breast were stuck in the ears, the face was smeared with red ochre and oil, and the whole body, save the head, enveloped in a fine mat. In this condition, surrounded with his weapons of war, the bones and preserved heads of his ancestors, the dead chief sat in state; and as the complexion of the skins of the natives alters little after death, there was a life-like appearance in the whole scene. Certain birds were sacrificed to the gods. Tribes from a distance visited the dead. Wisps of the long toitoi grass placed in the dead warrior’s hands were grasped by friends, and flattering laments, of which the following is a good specimen, were sung in his honour:—
“Behold the lightning’s glare:
It seems to cut asunder Tuwhara’s rugged mountains.
From thy hand the weapon dropped,
And thy bright spirit disappeared
Beyond the heights of Rauhawa.