A VISIT TO THE R.C. MISSION--BISHOP COPPÉE ON VARIOUS
ISLANDERS--THE NUNS--THEIR SCHOOLS--MURDER OF TEN
MISSIONARIES--CONGREGATION OF NATIVES
During the course of a lengthy visit to the Roman Catholic Mission
at Vunapope, twenty minutes’ walk from the hotel, I learnt much that
was new to me. As I sat in the spacious parlour of Bishop Coppée’s
two-storied residence, with its wide entrance looking out to sea, and
listened as he spoke of the different islands he had visited with a
view to ascertaining the practicability of establishing missions, I
was interested not only in his conversation, but in the man himself.
A tall, dignified, handsome Frenchman, wearing a simple white suit
of clothes like everybody else in these latitudes, with the addition
of a handsome gold chain and cross on his breast, he struck me as
a man of great character. In the language of the modern occultist,
one instinctively sensed refinement, skill, knowledge and power.
Many years before he became Bishop, in 1892, he had laboured in the
Archipelago, building with his own hands schools and churches, and
he was universally respected and admired by those who were not in
accord with his views. Producing an enormous chart, he pointed out
to me three groups of islands in the north of the Archipelago to
which he was referring. The inhabitants of these--the Anchorites, the
Hermits, and the Exchequers--are rapidly dying out. Intermarrying,
manifold diseases, such as elephantiasis, scrofula and others
introduced by the landing from time to time of American or European
whalers and trading-ships, were adduced as the causes of their rapid
disappearance. On the Anchorites the Bishop had found the natives so
low as to be eating their own children. Only about sixty still exist,
and on the Hermits the curious circumstance of an island possessing
forty inhabitants, of which the youngest was sixteen some two years
ago, demonstrates most forcibly how lacking in vitality the islanders
have become, since they are too weak to reproduce their kind. Yet,
not so many years ago, labourers were recruited from this group to
work in the plantations. In fact everything points to the belief that
a healthy population, possessing a social polity of their own, with a
skill in native art superior to that of many other islands, was once
in force. Portions of very richly decorated long canoes, fitted to
carry fifty persons, are preserved by German residents in the colony.
In the year 1881 the population was between three hundred and four
hundred, to-day there are not more than eighty.
The Exchequer Islands, which with the two already mentioned groups
are mostly of coral formation, possessing the same mixed type of
natives, are better in this respect; that is to say, that complete
extinction is not quite within measurable distance. About four
hundred natives live on the group, but their number, too, is
gradually diminishing.
“What a marked contrast to the Admiralty Islanders!” I had remarked,
and the Bishop had proceeded to tell me how strikingly different
are the conditions which each island presents. The intelligence of
the Admiralty natives, their populousness, virility and fierceness,
with, so far as is known, freedom from decimating diseases, stands
out in prominent relief from the majority of the Bismarck Islanders.
On the chart I was shown Douro and Matty lying with one or two
islets west of the Admiraltys. Here, I was told, an ethnological
problem of deep interest lies in determining the origin of the
inhabitants. These low-lying coral islands offering no anchorage,
rich in tropical vegetation--the cocoanut-palm, the bread-fruit
tree, bananas, taro--never visited until a few short years ago since
Carteret discovered them, are the home of a race altogether different
from any other in these seas. It is neither Papuan nor Polynesian,
nor Melanesian. None can understand the language, though attempts
are now being made to study it. Some of the curious weapons of the
islanders had been sent to Berlin, and Herr von Lüschan considered
they resembled some ancient Chinese weapons which had passed through
his hands.
“Where do _you_ think they came from?” I had asked, for the Bishop
had brought away some children on his visit, and they were in the
schools I was to visit.
“Personally, I think they are the descendants of Malay or possibly
Chinese castaways who have been wrecked on the islands,” was his
reply. Frequently, it seems, canoes are swept out of their course,
or wrecked on adjacent islands, when outside influence of this kind
assists materially to mix the races. Thus, in 1899, a Buka was driven
on to one of the Sir Charles Hardy Group. In attempting to return he
was, instead, landed on the coast of New Ireland. Sometimes it has
happened that when the natives have successfully landed on strange
shores, they have fought with, killed and eaten the inhabitants,
taking the women as slaves, thus affording another addition to the
racial confusion. In this way, it is not improbable that many islands
have gained their populations. The fact that a loom was found in
the island of St Matthias, inhabited at present by people of the
lowest culture, points to the influence at one time of a higher race.
Another factor in the situation is the endless fighting between the
islanders, leading often to the retirement into probably uninhabited
spaces of the weaker people. Thus a few years ago the natives
belonging to two small islands to the north of New Ireland withdrew
into far removed islets to escape the attacks of the New Irelanders.
The same thing has occurred in the Admiraltys.
To return to the inhabitants of Douro and Matty. The Bishop told me
that they were deft carpenters, their skilfully built houses unlike
any other, but they too, he feared, would shortly disappear from the
Pacific. Mentioning that the Danish Captain of the _Sumatra_ had
remarked on the predominance of females over males in these islands,
the Bishop remarked that the circumstance might have been brought
about by the ravages of the fever which had wrought such havoc in
1903. Unfortunately, this had been followed in 1904 by a catastrophe
which had carried off full five hundred people. It occurred in this
way. The natives had killed a manager and two Chinamen. When the next
ship was seen approaching, they had been seized with panic and had
taken to their canoes and gone out to sea. Unfortunately, a storm
arose, during which they, in their frail craft, had succumbed to
the fury of the waves. The natives in these two islands, although
ethnographically related, are curiously enough quite antagonistic to
each other.
The schools which I afterwards visited under the guidance of the
sisters were very interesting. Here I soon learnt to pick out the
different types which children brought from several of the adjacent
islands afforded--the black-skinned Bukas, the lighter-coloured
intelligent children from New Ireland. I was also able to identify
those which the Bishop had brought from Matty. They were absolutely
different from the others, lighter in colour, finer in feature, and,
if I saw rightly, showed distinct Mongol influence.
They were being taught to sing by cipher notation, the time kept
was remarkably good. I could not fail to remark upon the practical,
well-built schoolhouses. “Die Väter hallen alles gethan” (the Fathers
have done it all) was the explanation. The buildings in this part
of the world are all constructed with a view to withstand frequent
shocks of earthquake. They are generally erected on concrete blocks
and are so constructed that in case of violent shocks the whole
structure sways together.
Thinking of the intense heat, the risk of fever, of the often
inadequate supply of good food, of the menacing volcano across the
bay, and of the dangerous, treacherous natives, I asked the nuns if
they did not long to go home sometimes? “We are here for life,” was
the quiet reply. Then I questioned them about a disaster which had
happened to some of their number shortly before, and I was told that
on the 13th of August 1904, at the newly-established station of St
Paul, some forty miles along the coast westwards, encircled by the
Baining mountains, Father Rascher, with four of his fellow-priests
and five sisters, had been murdered. The grief of the little
community at Vunapope had been excessive, when through a native
source the awful news had burst upon them with the suddenness of a
thunderclap. It appeared that Father Rascher, who had the previous
year compiled a dictionary of the Baining language, and had nearly
completed a grammar, was in the habit of shooting pigeons with a
native lad who carried his gun. Unfortunately the latter had learned
to shoot from his master, and apparently it was preconcerted that
when he should shoot the priest the rest of the Bainings should steal
up to the mission-house and brain the other white people. This was
done so effectually that not one of the little band escaped. One
sister was found dead in front of the altar of the newly-erected
chapel. Fortunately their bodies were left _in situ_, the native
being afraid to eat white man’s flesh, since he is afraid of the
revenge his spirit may take. The bodies of these martyrs were
collected by their mourning friends and buried in one large grave.
To punish the natives, a punitive expedition was sent out by the
Governor into the Baining country, when several natives were shot,
fortunately including the ringleader.
Nothing daunted by this terrible catastrophe, the places of those
who had perished were speedily filled, and the mission continues its
labours. In this district Bishop Coppée has inaugurated an industry
which helps to support the community. A sawing-mill sent out from
Europe prepares timber supplied from the Baining mountains, which is
loaded on to vessels and taken wherever wanted.
This was the first of several visits to the order of the “Heiligen
Herzen Jesus,” which has its headquarters at Hiltrup near Munster in
Westphalia. To see the kanakas at their best, the nuns advised me to
come the following morning at seven o’clock, when they walked in from
all parts of the district to attend Mass. This I resolved to do.
That afternoon I received a visit from Mr Parkinson, in reply to my
letter, and I arranged in accordance with his kind invitation to
spend a day at his house early the ensuing week to witness a market
held on the verandah, when the natives bring in their agricultural
products, receiving payment in tobacco for the most part.
It was early as I set forth the first Sunday of my stay in New
Britain to hear Mass at the Roman Catholic church. There is no other
place of worship, so that one’s choice is limited.
The way led across a wooden bridge to the coast where many devotees
were inverting the apostolic admonition and taking their dip
before going to service. Women in twos and threes peered shyly, yet
curiously, at me as I walked slowly past. Weakly creatures they
looked, ill-shapen, painfully thin; some toiled along with children
slung on in front, whilst all carried heavily-laden baskets on their
shoulders, the weight suspended by a cloth or bark bandage passing
round the temples. Their features were small, and as a short, smart,
tropical rain suddenly came on, they produced coverings of pandanus
leaves fastened together to protect their heads. As I approached the
sheds and landing-place belonging to the community, to turn sharply
on my right to ascend the height whereon the church is built, a
motley crowd of natives followed. The church was calculated to hold
about four hundred. Not a seat was vacant when the service began,
and outside on the grass numbers sat who could not be accommodated
within. A chair had been placed for me on the side where the women
sat, from which I turned to watch the congregation filing slowly
into place under the guidance of one of the Fathers. The mats and
baskets of the women remained outside the building. The feathers and
finery had been taken out of the men’s vari-coloured hair, also their
pipes and other personal adornments were left on the grass outside.
Their behaviour was orderly and reverential in the extreme. It really
was a wonderful sight to see row upon row of converted men-eaters
kneeling and rising at given signals; not but what their white, red
and yellow moppy heads, their lips stained with betel chewing, gave
them a ferocious aspect. They sang hymns too, in their own kanaka
tongue, and listened to a long but eloquent address also in their
own language with evident enjoyment. As I studied them, the words of
Lowell came to my remembrance:--
“For whom the heart of man shuts out
Sometimes the heart of God takes in.”
I confess my mind was much disturbed by worldly thoughts as the
service proceeded. Around me there was scarcely a native who was not
covered with ringworm, and the scratching that went on continuously
did not tend to devotion.
This Mission, founded in 1885, claims to have baptised 13,000
converts. On one occasion, I inquired as to how much and how little
of the somewhat complicated doctrinal teaching of the Church of Rome
was imparted to the kanaka? I was told that the most rudimentary
elements of religion comprised the instruction given. With the
dread of evil spirits which haunts the native from his birth to his
death, it was something to get him to believe that there was a good
spirit who controlled evil. That which had led to the murder of the
missionaries at Baining is now believed to be the way in which the
priests had insisted upon their converts having only one wife. This
the natives were unwilling to accede to, though desirous of being
admitted into the Church.
On my way back to the hotel I pondered over the interesting scene
just witnessed. All that, from the ordinary standpoint, makes life
worth living, these missionaries had sacrificed, not temporarily,
but permanently. No one could fail to be greatly impressed by the
heroism of the life of sympathy.
“For heavy is the weight of ill
In every heart,
And comforters are needed much
Of Christ-like touch.”