BOAT TRANSIT TO LEONE—SPOUTING CAVES—COUNCIL OF WAR—SKETCH OF SAMOAN
HISTORY—NIGHT DANCES.
IN THE HOUSE OF THE NATIVE CATECHIST,
LEONE, _Wednesday, 19th_.
We have had a long delightful day, and I am tolerably tired; but before
taking to my mat, I must give you some notion of what we have seen. All
the early morning the ship was surrounded by canoes full of natives,
offering clubs, native cloth, and baskets for sale. Some of the canoes
had ornamental prows with carved birds, &c.
After breakfast I went ashore with M. Pinart to see all we could of the
village. We were invited to enter several houses, which are much more
open and less like homes than those in Tonga or Fiji. But the people are
all in a ferment, for, as usual in poor Samoa, this is only a lull in
the course of incessant tribal war, and the people of Pango-Pango belong
to the Puletoa, who were severely beaten in a recent battle. They are,
however, keen to return to the fray, and this morning all the warriors
assembled in full conclave, holding a council of war. They arrived in
large canoes (some of their canoes carry upwards of 200 people, but
those we saw had not room for above 50). They are noble-looking men, the
fairest race in Polynesia, and truly dignified in their bearing. Some
wore crowns of green leaves, and many had blossoms of scarlet hybiscus
coquettishly stuck in their hair, which is cut short, dyed with
coral-lime, and frizzled and stiffened with a sort of _bandoline_ made
of the sticky juice of the bread-fruit tree, mixed with scented oil; so
that, instead of being straight and black, it stands round the head in a
stiff halo of tawny yellow, like that of the Fijians and Tongans.
Is it not strange that the same curious rage for converting black hair
into gold should prevail on this side of the world, just as it has in
London in various epochs of fashion’s folly, as when the attendants of
“The Virgin Queen” dyed their raven locks with a lee of wood-ashes,
especially those of “ivy-tree bark,” or a decoction of the flowers of
broom, either of which was warranted to “cause the hair grow yellow”? Of
the various alkaline washes in use at the present day, and the good
champagne converted to a hair-wash, I need not speak. Besides, these are
mysteries which I have not yet solved.
Here there is no deception at all in the process. It is all carried on
in open day, for the simple and cleanly purpose of exterminating wee
beasties. The head, whether male or female, that has just been
whitewashed, presents exactly the appearance of a barrister’s wig stuck
on to a bronze statue. But such work is all done on undress days; and of
course to-day every one was got up in full suits of mats and foliage,
with a good coating of fresh cocoa-nut oil, the effect of which, on a
brown skin, is admirable. The Psalmist knew what it was, when he spoke
of “oil to make him a cheerful countenance.” The man who neglects it
looks dull and lack-lustre; while he who, having anointed his flaxen
locks, has then given his face and shoulders a good polish, seems
altogether radiant.
Of course we found our way to the House of Debate. The spokesmen were
apparently eloquent orators, very fluent, making use of much
gesticulation and very graceful action. Each carries a fly-flap, which
is his badge of office, and consists of a long bunch of fine brown
fibre, very like a horse’s tail, sometimes plaited into a multitude of
the finest braids, and all attached to a carved handle about a foot in
length. With this, when not engaged in speechifying, he disperses the
flies which presume to annoy his chief. But while talking, the fly-flap
is thrown carelessly over the right shoulder. Dainty little flaps of the
same sort are carried by many persons in preference to the fibre-fans in
common use. I observe, however, that there are fewer fans here than in
Fiji, where you are always offered one the moment you enter the poorest
hut.
I was struck by the rapt attention with which the audience favoured each
successive speaker. The bishop was present, accompanied by the captain.
They wished to remonstrate with the big chief on the subject of certain
persecutions of Catholics, and also to urge him and his party to
submission. They are but a handful compared with the others, and the
strife seems so hopeless, and has already cost so many good lives; but I
fear the good bishop’s efforts are all in vain. Like the Hebrew
peacemaker, he “labours for peace; but when he speaks unto them thereof,
they make them ready to battle.” And now, in every village and in every
house, all the men are busy rubbing up their old guns, and preparing
ammunition, making cartridges, and so forth.
We returned on board at noon; and after luncheon, the bishop had to
return in a ship’s boat to Leone. He most kindly invited me to accompany
him. We were a full boat-load—Père Soret and Père Vidal, two chiefs, two
other natives, one officer, and twelve French sailors. The sea was very
rough, and we shipped so much water that two men were told off to bale
incessantly. Of course our things got very wet. On these occasions the
bishop is seen in perfection; he is so cheery and pleasant to every one,
sailors and passengers, and makes the best of everything, though himself
suffering greatly.
This sort of boating is very different from travelling on our lovely
Fijian lagoons, within the shelter of the encircling reef. Here the huge
breakers dash madly on the shore, where they spout like geysers through
a thousand perforated rocks, and we had to remain fully half a mile from
land to avoid their rush. Oh for the calm mirror-like sea-lakes over
which we have glided for the last two years, till I, for one, had
wellnigh forgotten what boating in rough water means! To-day our ten
stout rowers could with difficulty make any way, and our progress was
slow.
We saw enough of the island (Tutuila) to agree in the general praise of
its green loveliness. Its high volcanic hills are densely wooded, and
look more tropical than those of Ovalau (Fiji). But our powers of
appreciation were considerably damped by the invading spray, and we
watched the rugged coast, chiefly with a view to knowing whether there
was one spot where a boat could land in case of need; but in the whole
run of twelve miles, there was not a single place where it would have
been possible. Even here, at this large native town, there is only a
narrow break in the rocks, where landing is tolerably safe in fine
weather.
As we drew near we saw a large body of Samoan warriors exercising on the
shore, and hear that the people have assembled from far and near to take
measures for immediately crushing the rebels at Pango-Pango (our friends
of this morning). The chiefs here belong to the _Faipule_ faction.
The good Fathers invited me to tea at their house, and then handed me
over to the care of Dorothea, the excellent wife of their catechist, who
had prepared the tidy inner room of her house for my reception. Here I
am most cosily established. My hostess, with about twenty of her
scholars, nice-looking girls, have hung up great screens of _tappa_ to
act as mosquito-nets; and under these they are sleeping peacefully in
the outer room. Of course I brought my own net and pillow, being too old
a traveller ever to risk a night without them; and my bed is a layer of
fine mats, beautifully clean and temptingly cool. To these I must now
betake me, so good-night.
IN THE TEACHER’S HOUSE, _Thursday Night_.
I started in the early morning for a long walk, taking as my guide a
graceful half-caste girl with flowing black hair. She wore a fine mat
round her waist, and a pretty patchwork pinafore, of the simple form
generally adopted here—that is, a fathom of cloth, with a hole cut out
of the centre to admit the head and neck. It is trimmed with some sort
of fringe, either of fibre or grass. Occasionally two bright-coloured
handkerchiefs, stitched together at the upper corners, supply the simple
garment, which, however, is not an indigenous product of Samoa, but was
the _tiputa_ introduced by the early Tahitian teachers. It is
practically the same as a Spanish _poncho_. All the shore here is edged
with black volcanic rock; the lava seems to have formed huge bubbles as
it cooled, and many of these have been water-worn till they are
connected one with another by innumerable channels. So the waves rush
tumultuously into these subterranean caves, and thence through hidden
passages, till they reach openings like deep wells which lie at
intervals along the shore, at some distance from the sea. Through these
chimneys the rushing waters spout in great foam-fountains, and the
effect produced is that of intermittent geysers, all along the coast. I
think some of the jets must have been fully 100 feet high—and how the
great breakers do surge and roar! No peaceful silent shore here!
We passed a very large deserted European house, built by Mr Scott of the
Presbyterian Mission. How so large a house came to be required, or why
it was abandoned, are mysteries of which I have heard no solution.
I returned to breakfast with the Fathers, to whose house I go for all
meals. Happily the kind forethought of Captain Aube has provided me with
a private teapot and a good supply of tea and sugar, so that I can have
a brew whenever I wish;—a great comfort, as the ecclesiastical hours are
very irregular, the Fathers being in the habit of luxuriating on dry
yam, drier biscuit, and cold water. The only attempt at cooking is that
of a nice half-caste lad, who is the bishop’s sole attendant, and
combines the duties of chorister, acolyte, episcopal valet, and cook; so
his duties in the latter capacity have to wait on the former.
It seems we have arrived here at a most critical moment. The majority of
the chiefs of Tutuila have assembled here to hold council of war how
most effectually to subdue the rebels. The majority are in favour of
war. A few have not yet arrived. All to-day they have been sitting in
parties all round the _malæ_—that is, the village green. At intervals
one of the “talking men” stood up, and, laying his fly-flapper on his
bare shoulder, leant on a tall staff, and, without moving from the spot
where he had been sitting, threw out an oration in short, detached,
abrupt sentences. Having had his say he sat down, and each group
apparently made its own comments quietly. There were long pauses between
the speeches, which made the proceedings rather slow; but we sat by
turns with all the different parties (_we_, meaning myself, M. de
Kerraoul, and M. Pinart, who had walked across the hills from
Pango-Pango).
After a while, the bishop was invited to speak—a great exertion, as the
audience formed such a very wide circle. He took up his position beneath
the shade of a bread-fruit tree in the centre, and though his voice was
very weak, he was distinctly heard by all—and his speech seemed
impressive. Of course he urged peace, and he has a good hope that at
least the Roman Catholic chiefs will allow themselves to be guided by
him. But the meeting closed with a bad tendency to war, which was
illustrated by various actions in the manner of bringing in the feast,
the way in which women, wearing trains of _tappa_, were going about all
day, carrying bowls of _kava_ to the orators, and other symptoms evident
to practised eyes. Many of the men wore beautiful crowns of Pearly
Nautilus shell, which are also symptomatic of warlike intentions.
The bishop’s words, however, were not without effect. The council
assembled again to-night, and is still sitting, and I hear that after
much talk the chiefs have written a letter to the chief of Pango-Pango,
again inviting him to submit, and so avert war.
Just now I mentioned the bowls of _kava_ with which ministering damsels
refreshed the thirsty speakers. Perhaps I should explain that it is the
identical drink which I so fully described, in writing to you from Fiji,
where it was known as _yangona_—namely, a dry root masticated, till
there remains only a fine white fibre, as free as possible from saliva.
This is placed in a large wooden bowl, and water is poured over it. It
is then strained through a fine piece of hybiscus fibre till all the
particles of root have been removed, when there remains only a turbid
yellow fluid, tasting like ginger and soap-suds, which is gently
stimulating, like weak sal-volatile, and has the advantage of rarely
resulting in intoxication, which, in any case, is a very different
affair from that produced by drinking spirits. A man must drink a good
deal of this nasty _kava_ before he can get drunk; and when he does, his
head remains quite clear,—he merely loses the use of his limbs, and has
to appeal to the compassionate bystanders to lift him to a place of
safety. If his companions were white men, they might obligingly empty
his pockets while he looked on helplessly; but South Sea Islanders would
scorn to take so base an advantage of a man in his cups. On the
contrary, they will obligingly bring him some mountain bananas, nicely
roasted in their skins, which are considered a corrective, and will then
leave him to sleep himself sober.
Different groups have trifling differences in their method of preparing
this national beverage, and the ceremonies to be observed. In Fiji it is
considered very incorrect for a woman to touch the bowl,—chewing,
straining, and handing it round in cocoa-nut shells, should all be done
by young men, whose comrades sing wild melodies during the manufacture,
and keep up a peculiar measured hand-clapping while the chiefs are
drinking. Here, in Samoa, the girls are all Hebes. They do the brewing,
and carry round the cups, but there are no songs (_yangona-méké_), and
the only hand-clapping is done by the drinker himself as he hands back
the cup. In Fiji, the correct thing is to send the empty cup skimming
across the mat to the great central bowl.
This afternoon a corps of sixty warriors favoured us with a very odd
sort of drill dance. Their dress consisted of kilts of black calico,
trimmed with cut-out white calico, to look like _tappa_; on their heads
a turban of Turkey red; their mouth and chin hideously blackened, which
on these very fair people produces a monstrously ugly effect. They all
had muskets, and were called soldiers; but we thought their drill was
more funny than warlike, and concluded that they would be quite as
dangerous to their friends as their foes. They have a sort of American
flag, invented by Colonel Steinberger.
The dance was a very miserable travesty of a true native _méké_, such as
we have so often seen in the isles further west; but here the
vulgarising influence of white men is painfully evident, and one of the
prominent figures at the chief’s council was a high chiefess in a huge
crinoline, a gorgeous red dress, and a hideously unbecoming hat, trimmed
with scarlet and green ribbon and feathers:
“Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us,
To see oursels as ithers see us!”
Could that proud woman but have known with what different eyes we, the
great strangers representing all Europe, looked on her fine foreign
clothes, and on the pretty becoming attire of her handmaidens, with
their finely plaited and fringed mats, necklaces of scarlet berries on
their clear olive skin, and bright blossoms in their hair!
Philosophers tell us there is always good in things evil; and so far as
outward appearance goes, the tendency to war is in favour of artistic
beauty, as these people (like the Samoans and Tongans) connect the idea
of good behaviour with pretty closely cropped heads; but when the
war-spirit revives they become defiant, and let their hair grow like a
lion’s mane, and adorn themselves with gay wreaths and garlands from the
neck and waist. When a man has allowed his hair to grow long, he twists
it up in a knot on the top of his head, but it would be considered gross
disrespect to appear thus in presence of a superior or at a religious
service. He must then untie the string and let his hair fall on his
shoulders. Rather odd, is it not, that they should have exactly the same
idea on this subject as a Chinaman, who dares not venture to appear in
presence of a superior with his pigtail twisted round his head?
To-day the great chief’s half-caste secretary asked me most anxiously
when “Arthur Gordon” was coming from Fiji, and whether it was really
certain that he would endeavour to force the Samoans to reinstate King
Malietoa. I ventured to answer for Sir Arthur having no such intention,
which seemed to soothe the inquirer and all his anxious surroundings.
You may remember that we have twice had Samoan chiefs in Fiji. Once when
they were brought as hostages on board the Barracouta, and once as a
deputation to the British Government, to claim a protectorate from
England. In each case, though the protectorate was refused, they were
most kindly received by Sir Arthur Gordon, and amongst other attentions,
were invited to dine at Government House. So several of those here
assembled now recognised me as an old acquaintance, and are very
friendly in consequence.
It really is too sad to see those fine manly fellows, who, if they could
but work in concert, might be such a powerful little community, now all
torn by internal conflicts and jealousies, continually fanned by the
unprincipled whites, who hope to reap their harvest in the troubles of
their neighbours. I fear it would be difficult in a few words to explain
the position of affairs, but I must give you a rough outline.
The old original _Tui Samoa_—_i.e._, kings—were of the dynasty of Tupua.
Some generations back the Tongans came and invaded Samoa, whose people
resisted bravely, and finally expelled the foe. The Wellington of that
day was a brave chief, who was thenceforth known as _Malietoa_, the
“Good “Warrior,” a title which from that day has been borne by the chief
ruler of the isles, even if not in the direct lineal descent. The chiefs
of Savaii, and of part of Upolu, with the lesser isles of Manono and
Apolima, elected Malietoa their king. The isles of Auna and Atua
remained loyal to the Tupua family. They were, however, conquered by a
successor of Malietoa, who reigned as king of the whole group till 1840,
since which period a ceaseless strife has been waged between the
contending factions. These became aggravated in 1869 by a split in the
Malietoa camp, when, on the death of the reigning chief, his two sons
contested the succession. The chiefs of Savaii supported the claims of
the elder brother, while those of the isle Monono elected the second,
justly believing that the chiefs of Apia were becoming mere tools in the
hands of the foreigners.
This double civil war, fomented as usual by the whites, raged till 1872,
when the United States assumed a sort of protectorate over the group,
and in the following year a republic was declared, the supreme power
being vested in the hands of a representative body of seven high chiefs.
These were called the _Taimua_—_i.e._, the “Pioneers.”
I must tell you that the great nobles of Samoa are called _Alii_, and
the greatest care is taken to preserve their line in direct lineal
descent from the ancient chiefs. It is not necessary that the title
should descend from father to son, only that it should be bestowed on a
member of the family, who can trace back his clear pedigree to the true
source. Therefore, on the death of a high chief, the minor chiefs of the
tribe elect the member of the principal family, whom they will
henceforth acknowledge as their political head, reserving to themselves
the power of deposing him should he prove unsatisfactory.
These minor chiefs also hold their title as head of the family by
election—a son being often passed over in favour of a cousin, and
sometimes even of one who is no blood relation, but is adopted for some
political reason. These head men are the _Faipule_, who act as local
magistrates in each village, the affairs of which they discuss in solemn
conclave. They have the name of being great orators, and much eloquence
flows in these legislative assemblies. The great chiefs never speak in
public, that office being deputed to their official spokesman. In a
general way the Samoan isles have divided themselves into ten districts,
each of which has its distinct _fono_ or parliament, and no action is
taken in any matter till the members of one council have arrived at
something very near a unanimous decision. Of course, in times of war
like the present, these matters are very irregular.
In January 1875, a new experiment was tried. Unheeding the wisdom which
forbids having “two queens in Brentford,” the Samoans resolved to have a
king of each dynasty, who should reign jointly: so Pulepule of the
ancient Tupua race ascended the throne in company with Malietoa Laupepa;
and the number of the _Taimua_ was raised from seven to fourteen. How
long this amicable arrangement might have continued, it is impossible to
say; for on the 1st April 1875, a very serious phase of April fooling
was enacted by an American adventurer, known as Colonel Steinberger,
who, by some means not clearly explained, obtained a passage to Apia in
the United States man-of-war Tuscarora, and on landing stated that he
had been sent from Washington to organise a new government. As his sole
credentials, he presented the Samoans with four pieces of cannon and a
Gatling gun, which, he said, were a gift from President Grant.
Utterly ignoring all the foreign consuls, including the representative
of the States, he proceeded, under protection of the American
man-of-war, to draw up a new constitution, declaring Malietoa sole king,
and himself (Steinberger) prime minister, and, in fact, supreme ruler.
This matter being settled, the Tuscarora sailed, and Steinberger
proceeded to arm the schooner Peerless (which he had purchased in San
Francisco) with guns and ammunition, and sailed to Tutuila to put down
the disturbances in that island. The American consul (Mr Foster) vainly
remonstrated against the proceeding of this unlicensed vessel flying the
American flag; and taking advantage of the arrival of H.M.S. Barracouta,
commanded by Captain Stevens, he seized the Peerless for breach of the
neutrality laws.
Then followed a meeting of all the foreign residents, resolving to free
themselves from the tyranny of this self-constituted dictator. Many of
the Samoan chiefs joined with the foreigners in claiming British
protection—the German consul, Godeffroy’s representative, being the only
one to stand aloof. The Barracouta arrived on the 12th December; and on
the 7th February, Malietoa appealed to the United States consul to aid
him in getting rid of his arrogant premier. Mr Foster forwarded this
petition to the British consul and Captain Stevens, who, after an
interview with the king and the Samoan representatives—the _Taimua_ and
the _Faipule_—agreed to arrest Steinberger, who, accordingly, was
carried on board the Barracouta for safe keeping.
His right hand, Jonas Coe, was however left at large, and by his advice
the Steinberger faction proceeded that night to seize the king and carry
him off to the isle of Savaii, where they forced him to sign a deed of
abdication, vesting all power of government in the _Taimua_ and
_Faipule_. Within a week Malietoa contrived to send a message to Captain
Stevens, acquainting him with these circumstances, and requesting his
further aid. The Barracouta accordingly went to the rescue, and brought
the king back to Apia, where he was landed with a salute of twenty-one
guns, and a guard of marines was told off to protect him. The town was
now full of armed mobs, who surrounded the British consulate in a
threatening manner, so that Mr Williams, the consul, was obliged to
swear in special constables for its protection.
So matters went on till the 13th March, when the king, wishing to
explain to his people his reasons for dismissing Steinberger, summoned
all the chiefs to meet him at the neighbouring village of Mulinunu,
which lies on a green peninsula beyond Apia. Malietoa was escorted by
his principal chiefs, the consuls, and foreign residents, and Captain
Stevens, with a guard of sailors and marines; the latter with unloaded
arms, which were piled on reaching the village. Then, in their rear,
appeared a strong party of armed natives, cutting off their retreat, and
evidently meditating an attack. An officer, with a small party of
marines, advanced to parley with these men, but were received with a
volley of musketry, which killed and wounded several. Then followed a
sharp skirmish, in which the sailors fought at a great disadvantage—the
enemy being 500 strong, and concealed by the dense thickets of bananas
and sugar-cane. Eleven sailors and marines were killed and wounded, and
the assailants lost about double that number. Grave fears were
entertained that the British and American consulates would be attacked;
so they were put in a state of defence, which proved a sufficient
precaution. Next day Mr Jonas Coe was tried by his consul and
countrymen, and sentenced to be deported. So he enjoyed the privilege of
joining his chief on board H.M.S. Barracouta, which soon afterwards
sailed for New Zealand, calling at Fiji on the way (on which occasion I
made friends with the three Samoan chiefs whom Captain Stevens had
brought away as hostages for the good behaviour of their party).
Much oil having been poured on these troubled waters by the soothing
intervention of both French and English missionaries, and especially by
the personal influence of the bishop, a superficial peace was
established, and Malietoa Laupepa once more reigned as king. How soon
disturbances have broken out, we now see too plainly.[7]
After our evening meal at the Fathers’ house, I took a turn in the
moonlight with M. Pinart and M. de Kerraoul, hoping to see a Samoan
dance, which was to come off soon after sunset. But the council having
again met, the dance was deferred till so late that I thought it better
to come back here, where I found all the pretty little school-girls
adorned with garlands, singing and acting very pretty quaint songs and
dances, illustrating their geography, arithmetic, &c. Then about twenty
grown-up women, who had come in from the village, sprang to their feet,
and volunteered to show me some of the real old Samoan night dances—_Po
ulu faka Samoa_. These were exceedingly ungraceful, and half their point
seemed to consist in making hideous grimaces and contortions, and in
reducing wearing apparel to a minimum, consisting chiefly of green
leaves. I think that on the slightest encouragement they would have
dispensed with any. Each figure was more ungainly than its predecessor,
and seemed likely to be prolonged indefinitely; so, as it struck me that
the entertainment would scarcely meet with the approbation of the good
Fathers, should it occur to them for any reason to come over, I
suggested that the children should give us a parting song, whereupon
they sang “Malbrooke” and “Bon Soir” very prettily, though I daresay the
French words they repeated did not convey much more to their minds than
do the Latin prayers.
Then the party dispersed, and now the school-girls are all safely stowed
away beneath their close _tappa_ mosquito-curtains, like a regiment
under tents, and I am in possession of the inner reeded room. It is a
great boon to have such a haven of refuge from the multitude of gazing
brown eyes.
By the shouts from the _rara_ I know that the council has broken up, and
the real Samoan dance has now begun; but from the specimen given to me
by the ladies, I think it is just as well that I came away.—Now,
good-night.