Old New Zealand: A Tale of the Good Old Times: And a History of the War in the North against the Chief Heke, in the Year 1845Maning, Frederick Edward
History
Old New Zealand: A Tale of the Good Old Times: And a History of the War in the North against the Chief Heke, in the Year 1845
Maning, Frederick Edward
Māori (New Zealand people) -- Social life and customs; New Zealand -- Description and travel
While I am on the subject of land and land titles, I may as well here
mention that many years after the purchase of my land I received
notice to appear before certain persons called "Land Commissioners,"
who were part and parcel of the new inventions which had come up soon
after the arrival of the first governor, and which are still a trouble
to the land. I was informed that I must appear and prove my title to
the land I have mentioned, on pain of forfeiture of the same. Now I
could not see what right any one could have to plague me in this way,
and if I had had no one but the commissioners and two or three hundred
men of their tribe to deal with, I should have put my pa in fighting
order, and told them to "come on;" for before this time I had had
occasion to build a pa, (a little misunderstanding,) and being a
regularly naturalized member of a strong tribe, could raise men to
defend it at the shortest notice. But somehow these people had
cunningly managed to mix up the name of Queen Victoria, God bless her!
(no disparagement to King Potatau) in the matter; and I, though a
pakeha Maori, am a loyal subject to her Majesty, and will stick up and
fight for her as long as ever I can muster a good imitation of courage
or a leg to stand upon. This being the case, I made a very unwilling
appearance at the court, and explained and defended my title to the
land in an oration of four hours and a half's duration; and which,
though I was much out of practice, I flatter myself was a good
specimen of English rhetoric, and which, for its own merits as well as
for another reason which I was not aware of at the time, was listened
to by the court with the greatest patience. When I had concluded, and
having been asked "if I had any more to say?" I saw the commissioner
beginning to count my words, which had been all written, I suppose, in
shorthand; and having ascertained how many thousand I had spoken, he
handed me a bill, in which I was charged by the word, for every word I
had spoken, at the rate of one farthing and one twentieth per word.
Oh, Cicero! Oh, Demosthenes! Oh, Pitt, Fox, Burke, Sheridan! Oh,
Daniel O'Connell! what would have become of you, if such a stopper had
been clapt on your jawing tackle? Fame would never have cracked her
trumpet, and "Dan" would never have raised the _rint_. For my part I
have never recovered the shock. I have since that time become
taciturn, and have adopted a Spartan brevity when forced to speak, and
I fear I shall never again have the full swing of my mother tongue.
Besides this, I was charged ten shillings each for a little army of
witnesses who I had brought by way of being on the sure side--five
shillings a head for calling them into court, and five more for
"examining" them; said examination consisting of one question each,
after which they were told to "be off." I do believe had I brought up
a whole tribe, as I had thoughts of doing, the commissioners would not
have minded examining them all.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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