Tangaroa, enraged at some of his children deserting him, and, being sheltered by the god of the forests on dry land, has ever since waged war on his brother Tane, who, in return, has waged war against him.
Hence, Tane supplies the offspring of his brother Tu-matauenga with canoes, with spears and with fish-hooks made from his trees, and with nets woven from his fibrous plants, that they may destroy the offspring of Tangaroa; whilst Tangaroa, in return, swallows up the offspring of Tane, overwhelming canoes with the surges of his sea, swallowing up the lands, trees, and houses that are swept off by floods, and ever wastes away, with his lapping waves, the shores that confine him, that the giants of the forests may be washed down and swept out into his boundless ocean, that he may then swallow up the insects, the young birds and the various animals which inhabit them,—all which things are recorded in the prayers which were offered to these gods.
Tawhiri-ma-tea next rushed on to attack his brothers Rongo-ma-tane and Haumia-tikitiki, the gods and progenitors of cultivated and uncultivated food; but Papa, to save these for her other children, caught them up, and hid them in a place of safety; and so well were these children of hers concealed by their mother Earth, that Tawhiri-ma-tea sought for them in vain.
Tawhiri-ma-tea having thus vanquished all his other brothers, next rushed against Tu-matauenga, to try his strength against his; he exerted all his force against him, but he could neither shake him or prevail against him. What did Tu-matauenga care for his brother’s wrath? he was the only one of the whole party of brothers who had planned the destruction of their parents, and had shown himself brave and fierce in war; his brothers had yielded at once before the tremendous assaults of Tawhiri-matea and his progeny—Tane-mahuta and his offspring had been broken and torn in pieces—Tangaroa and his children had fled to the depths of the ocean or the recesses of the shore—Rongo-ma-tane and Haumia-tikitiki had been hidden from him in the earth—but Tu-matauenga, or man, still stood erect and unshaken upon the breast of his mother Earth; and now at length the hearts of Heaven and of the god of storms became tranquil, and their passions were assuaged.
Tu-matauenga, or fierce man, having thus successfully resisted his brother, the god of hurricanes and storms, next took thought how he could turn upon his brothers and slay them, because they had not assisted him or fought bravely when Tawhiri-ma-tea had attacked them to avenge the separation of their parents, and because they had left him alone to show his prowess in the fight. As yet death had no power over man. It was not until the birth of the children of Taranga and of Makea-tu-tara, of Maui-taha, of Maui-rota, of Maui-pae, of Maui-waho, and of Maui-tikitiki-o-Taranga, the demi-god who tried to drain Hine-nui-te-po, that death had power over men. If that goddess had not been deceived by Maui-tikitiki, men would not have died, but would in that case have lived for ever; it was from his deceiving Hine-nui-te-po that death obtained power over mankind, and penetrated to every part of the earth.
Tu-matauenga continued to reflect upon the cowardly manner in which his brothers had acted, in leaving him to show his courage alone, and he first sought some means of injuring Tane-mahuta, because he had not come to aid him in his combat with Tawhiri-ma-tea, and partly because he was aware that Tane had had a numerous progeny, who were rapidly increasing, and might at last prove hostile to him, and injure him, so he began to collect leaves of the whanake tree, and twisted them into nooses, and when his work was ended, he went to the forest to put up his snares, and hung them up—ha! ha! the children of Tane fell before him, none of them could any longer fly or move in safety.
Then he next determined to take revenge on his brother Tangaroa, who had also deserted him in the combat; so he sought for his offspring, and found them leaping or swimming in the water; then he cut many leaves from the flax-plant, and netted nets with the flax, and dragged these, and hauled the children of Tangaroa ashore.
After that, he determined also to be revenged upon his brothers Rongo-ma-tane and Haumia-tikitiki; he soon found them by their peculiar leaves, and he scraped into shape a wooden hoe, and plaited a basket, and dug in the earth and pulled up all kinds of plants with edible roots, and the plants which had been dug up withered in the sun.
Thus Tu-matauenga devoured all his brothers, and consumed the whole of them, in revenge for their having deserted him and left him to fight alone against Tawhirima-tea and Rangi.
When his brothers had all thus been overcome by Tu’, he assumed several names, namely, Tu-ka-riri, Tu-ka-nguha, Tu-ka-taua, Tu-whaka-heke-tangata, Tu-matawha-iti, and Tu-matauenga; he assumed one name for each of his attributes displayed in the victories over his brothers. Four of his brothers were entirely deposed by him, and became his food; but one of them, Tawhiri-ma-tea, he could not vanquish or make common, by eating him for food, so he, the last born child of Heaven and Earth, was left as an enemy for man, and still, with a rage equal to that of man, this elder brother ever attacks him in storms and hurricanes, endeavouring to destroy him alike by sea and land.
Now the meanings of these names of the children of the Heaven and Earth are as follows:—
Tangaroa signifies fish of every kind; Rongo-ma-tane signifies the sweet potato, and all vegetables cultivated as food; Haumia-tikitiki signifies fern root, and all kinds of food which grow wild; Tane-mahuta signifies forests, the birds and insects which inhabit them, and all things fashioned from wood; Tawhiri-ma-tea signifies winds and storms; and Tu-matauenga signifies man.
Four of his brothers having, as before stated, been made common, or articles of food, by Tu-matauenga, he assigned for each of them fitting incantations, that they might be abundant, and that he might easily obtain them.
Some incantations were proper to Tane-mahuta, they were called Tane.
Some incantations were for Tangaroa, they were called Tangaroa.
Some were for Rongo-ma-tane, they were called Rongo-ma-tane.
Some were for Haumia-tikitiki, they were called Haumia.
The reason that he sought out these incantations was, that his brothers might be made common by him, and serve for his food. There were also incantations for Tawhiri-ma-tea to cause favourable winds, and prayers to the vast Heaven for fair weather, as also for mother Earth that she might produce all things abundantly. But it was the great God that taught these prayers to man.
There were also many prayers and incantations composed for man, suited to the different times and circumstances of his life—prayers at the baptism of an infant; prayers for abundance of food, for wealth; prayers in illness; prayers to spirits, and for many other things.
The bursting forth of the wrathful fury of Tawhiri-ma-tea against his brothers, was the cause of the disappearance of a great part of the dry land; during that contest a great part of mother Earth was submerged. The names of those beings of ancient days who submerged so large a portion of the earth were—Terrible-rain, Long-continued-rain, Fierce-hail-storms, and their progeny were, Mist, Heavy-dew, and Light-dew, and these together submerged the greater part of the earth, so that only a small portion of dry land projected above the sea.
From that time clear light increased upon the earth, and all the beings which were hidden between Rangi and Papa before they were separated, now multiplied upon the earth. The first beings begotten by Rangi and Papa were not like human beings; but Tu-matauenga bore the likeness of a man, as did all his brothers, as also did a Po, a Ao, a Kore, te Kimihanga and Runuku, and thus it continued until the times of Ngainui and his generation, and of Whiro-te-tupua and his generation, and of Tiki-tawhito-ariki and his generation, and it has so continued to this day.
The children of Tu-matauenga were begotten on this earth, and they increased, and continued to multiply, until we reach at last the generation of Maui-taha, and of his brothers Maui-roto, Maui-waho, Maui-pae, and Maui-tikitiki-o-Taranga.
Up to this time the vast Heaven has still ever remained separated from his spouse the Earth. Yet their mutual love still continues—the soft warm sighs of her loving bosom still ever rise up to him, ascending
from the woody mountains and valleys, and men call these mists; and the vast Heaven, as he mourns through the long nights his separation from his beloved, drops frequent tears upon her bosom, and men seeing these, term them dewdrops.
(1855)
Wiremu Te Rangikaheke, Letter to Prince Alfred, from the Daily Southern Cross
We give below an epistle written by William Marsh Te Rangikaheke in answer to a letter from a friend in Auckland, telling the Arawas of the approaching visit of the Prince. The letter is interesting, as showing how one of the cleverest of the native race, and an Arawa too, looks upon the Prince’s visit, and sets forth the troubles of the land:—
‘My friend, who gives me hope in the days of darkness, and dispels the gloom of my mind,—How shall my thoughts be made known so that they may be seen by the ends of the earth? But I have seen that my words have been published by you, and my heart in consequence is satisfied. Friend, your letter has come to hand naming the carved things, also the ornamented mats, that the Arawas should gather them together and store the whole of them here before the arrival of Prince Alfred. The Arawas have the ornamented mats here. The things that cannot be obtained are, the tufted dogskin mats, the mats made of the feathers of the kiwi, and the mats of the red feathers of the parrot. The persons who could weave and finish those kinds of mats have gone to the Hauhau. But as to the carved spears, ornamented with feathers, the whalebone weapons, long and short, the bordered mats, and other native garments, there are numbers of these from your own canoe [i.e., the Arawas] glittering as the lightning, heaped up in the house, the weaving of Poutini [an ancient Māori worthy]. There are also greenstone battle-axes, greenstone breast ornaments, and greenstone ear-drops, feathers also of the huia bird, in numbers lying here.
‘There are some other words of ours which we send on, referring to the rumours which float about this island, and come to the ears of the Arawas, also the thoughts of the Arawas which bring gloom to their minds in reviewing the state of affairs in this island. Let these sentiments be published, and don’t be wearied with their lengthiness.
‘ADDRESS TO PRINCE ALFRED.
‘O son, the Treaty of Waitangi has been broken, which was preserved inviolate by your mother. Your mother is not dead, yet the power of her word has been broken, and your Maori people are sitting weeping and captives. It was said that the Treaty of Waitangi would prevent other nations from interfering in the affairs of New Zealand, that the French and Americans should not come here to destroy the Maori people. Behold, O son, the Maoris have become of very small account, and are scattered like sheep without a shepherd: the people have become few, their industry is at an end, and their profession of Christianity is at an end.
‘Son, welcome to New Zealand, to the soil of your Maori ancestors. It was said, O son, that ignorance was buried with bygone generations. Coming down to this time, we find two sets of laws and two sets of instructors, the ministers of the Church, and the Government in relation to the things pertaining to the body. Behold, O son, the mountain ranges are standing solitarily in the distance—the mountains that were greeted by your Maori ancestors. The Maori people are like a flock of sandpipers looking out for a high place on the sandbank as the tide flows. When the birds alight, near that stream, lo, the tide has flowed over the sandbank and then the only thing the birds can do is to fly hither and thither. The sandbanks figuratively mean this island, the flood tide means the Government, the flocks of sand-pipers the Maori tribes flying about without a resting place, for the banks are covered by the flood tide.
‘My son and my lord, salutations to you, bringing to mind the countenances of your ancestors. You are as a star to illumine the dawn—as a rata tree shading from the sun and sheltering from the winds of the world. When the star appears it is known that it will soon dawn, and when the rays of the sun are powerful there is shade under the rata tree, and when it rains there is shelter under the rata. Son, salutations to you, reminding us of your father, who is lying peacefully in his grave, having left behind him in the world the aches, the weariness of body and weariness of mind; but having left below pain and sorrow of heart to your mother. If Prince Albert had not gone to his friends above, if he had lived on in the world, then the heart of your mother would have found opportunity to look into the fire [i.e., the war] that is burning in the island of your Maori ancestors. O son, salutations to you, the countenance towards which the inhabitants of the islands, distant and near, look. If you stay many days in New Zealand perhaps the soles of your feet will touch the boundaries of your ancestor Obomairaugi, that is to say, of your canoe, the Arawa [i.e., the boundaries of the Arawa tribes]. But wherefore should my lord come to the boundaries of your servant Ohomairangi, who is the least among the chieftainships of New Zealand?
‘SONG:
Rehearse to us your war speeches,
The causes of the war, and wherefore the strife is continued;
Why the teeth of winter have been sharpened.
Even those far distant from the scene of strife
share the evil, which reaches onward to
Waikawau, to Puketehe, and thence flies on
to Hauraki.
O ye people, hold tenaciously the smallest spot of ground.
This was the ancient saying:—
After our death, O son, suffer not thyself to be pressed down
By the great words of others;
Lift up thy voice, speak thou on war, and speak on peace;
So that you may be lifted up by thousands lying here.’
(1867)
Maoriland
Maoriland is a term invented in Australia in the late nineteenth century which describes what, in the colonial context, made New Zealand settler society distinctive—its indigenous population. And the Maoriland period at the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth century was one in which interest in things Māori became a mark of New Zealand identity.
Unlike the colonial period, when Māori material was collected, recorded, organised and interpreted in an almost anthropological manner, this material was now absorbed and aestheticised—it became both the source and the creative inspiration for writers who wished to fashion a way of writing that was distinctly of this place.
Most of these authors are Pākehā, though they often have a deep and respectful knowledge of Māori language and traditions. However, at the basis of their use of te reo is the belief that Māori as a people are disappearing and that their traditions are thus available for the settlers they are replaced by. The treatment of Māori figures is by modern standards often patronising and dismissive. In Maoriland writing Māori are ghosts or they are remnants. Nostalgia, often for a past which never existed and to which the writer has no proper claim, is a hallmark of this period.
Memory is thus an important driver: memory of a lost culture as Māori are pushed to the margins of settler society; memory of a lost landscape as the rural economy gobbles up the native bush. There is an ambivalent attitude to progress, a celebration of newness and modernity while at the same time an acute awareness of the cost.
This period is a time of political and social change: of the campaign to achieve women’s suffrage; of labour reform and the beginnings of the wefare state, as more and more of the population live in towns and cities. Māori society regroups after the wars of the mid-century and tries to find new ways to respond to the strictures, both cultural and economic, of the dominant Pākehā presence. It is also, in part, a time of economic depression where the buoyancy of settler optimism runs up against the realities of poverty and inequality.
Maoriland can be seen as an expression of emergent nationalism, albeit one which still accepts that New Zealand is part of the empire and of Britain and its traditions. An aspect of being a nation, however circumscribed, is having a national literature. While influenced by and responding to the literatures of Britain, North America and Australia, Maoriland writers look, not always successfully, to the ways in which writing here might be different from elsewhere. A
nd they register the difficulty of doing so. The landscape, in particular, becomes a focus—sublime and rapturous, dark and forbidding, odd and intractable.
Settler Ecologies
William Pember Reeves, ‘The Passing of the Forest’
All cannot fade that glorifies the hills,
Their strength remains, their aspect of command,
Their flush of colour when calm evening stills
Day’s clamour, and the sea-breeze cools the land.
With shout of thunder and with voice of rills,
Ancient of days in green old age they stand
In grandeur that can never know decay,
Though from their flanks men strip the woods away.
But thin their vesture now—the restless grass,
Bending and dancing as the breeze goes by,
Catching quick gleams and cloudy shades that pass,
As shallow seas reflect a wind-stirred sky.
Ah! nobler far their forest raiment was
From crown to feet that clothed them royally,
Shielding their mysteries from the glare of day,
Ere the dark woods were reft and torn away.
Well may these plundered and insulted kings,
Stripped of their robes, despoiled, uncloaked, discrowned,
Draw down the clouds with white enfolding wings,
And soft aërial fleece to wrap them round,
To hide the scars that every season brings,
The fire’s black smirch, the landslip’s gaping wound;
Well may they shroud their heads in mantle gray,
Since from their brows the leaves were plucked away!
Gone is the forest world, its wealth of life,
Its jostling, crowding, thrusting, struggling race,
Creeper with creeper, bush with bush at strife,
Warring and wrestling for a breathing space;
The Auckland University Press Anthology of New Zealand Literature Page 16