PAPEETE—CATHOLIC MISSION—PROTESTANT MISSION—A CHRISTENING PARTY—LA
MAISON BRANDÈRE—TALES OF THE PAST—EVENINGS IN TAHITI—LA
MUSIQUE—PLANS—SUNDAY.
_Care of the_ REV. JAMES GREEN,
PAOFAI, PAPEETE, TAHITI, _Saturday, 13th._
DEAREST NELL,—It is high time I sent you a cheerier letter than the
last, which was written just after our dreary arrival in a dismal storm,
and further overshadowed by the distressing manner in which our happy
party was so summarily dispersed. With the exception of that one sad
cloud, no drawback of any sort has arisen. The cordial kindness of every
creature here, the easy luxury of very simple social life, a heavenly
climate, and the dream-like loveliness of the isles, all combine to make
up as charming a whole as can possibly be conceived. It is the sort of
place in which one is made to feel at home at once: from the moment I
landed every one seems to have tried what he or she could do for the
enjoyment of the stranger. It is a region of true hospitality.
Certainly this is a very pretty little town. Its simple village streets
are all laid out as _boulevards_, and form pleasant shady avenues, the
commonest tree being the pretty yellow hybiscus with the claret-coloured
heart, so common in Fiji, where it is called _surya_. Here its name is
_boorau_. The names of the streets recall Parisian memories. The
shadiest and widest street is the Chinese quarter, and its poor little
wooden houses are Chinese stores and tea-shops. It rejoices in the name
of Rue de Pologne, while the principal real street is the Rue de Rivoli,
where are merchants’ stores, _cafés_, grog-shops, and even hotels of
some sort. Of course the pleasantest locations are those which face the
harbour and catch the sweet sea-breeze; and the largest stores for
provisions and dry goods are in the Rue de Commerce, each possessing its
own wharf. I fear the word wharf may suggest the dirty prosaic wharves
of England, an idea which you must banish at once; for business in its
dingy aspect is not obtrusive, and the harbour-wall is but a stone
coping for soft green turf, where girls with light rods sit fishing, and
market-boats land their cargo of gay fruit and fish, while the motley
throng pass and repass—Tahitians, French sailors and soldiers, Chinamen,
black-robed French priests, and all the nondescript nationalities from
the ships.
There is a considerable foreign population, including, of course, a
large staff of French officials of all sorts—civil, naval, and
military—and their presence seems a _raison d’être_ for a strong corps
of _gens d’armes_, who otherwise would certainly seem an incongruous
element in the South Seas.
By a recent census I learn that the native population of Tahiti is
somewhere about 8000; that of Moorea, 1500. That there are in the group
830 French, 144 citizens of the United States, 230 British subjects, and
about 700 Chinese.
The French have both a Protestant and Roman Catholic Mission. The former
was made necessary by the fact that, on the establishment of the
Protectorate in 1843, the English missionaries were subjected to such
very oppressive regulations as greatly impeded their ministrations among
the people, all of whom were at that time Christians, and, moreover,
still in the fervour of first love—a love which, it is to be feared, has
now in a great measure faded to the light of common day, as might be
expected from the large influx of infidel, or at best, wholly
indifferent, foreigners.
The Church of Rome having resolved to proselytise this already occupied
field, sent here a bishop and many priests, with a supplementary staff
of “Frères et Sœurs de Charité.” I think the Sisters are of the order St
Joseph de.... The foreigners connected with the Catholic mission number
in all about forty persons. They have had large aid and encouragement
from the French Government, who compelled the chiefs of Tahiti and
Moorea to build a church for their use in each district. Nevertheless,
out of the 8000 inhabitants, 300 nominal adherents is the maximum which
the Catholics themselves have ever claimed, but fifty is said to be
nearer the mark.
The French Protestant Mission, however, found it desirable to send
French subjects to the support of the London Mission, of which Mr Green
is now the only representative. His coadjutors are M. Viennot, M.
Vernier, and M. Brun—all married men and _pères de famille_. The latter
is _pasteur_ of Moorea. M. Viennot has a large Protestant school both
for boys and girls of pure French and pure Tahitian blood, and of all
shades of mixed race. We went to see his charming house, which is the
most romantic nest, for a school, that you can well imagine, with wide
verandahs and a large pleasant garden. Several of the daughters of the
early English missionaries assist in teaching; and everything about the
establishment seems bright and healthy in tone.
The third French _pasteur_, M. Vernier, was a student friend of Lord
Lorne’s at Geneva (under Merle d’Aubigné), and returned with him to
Inveraray for three months, ere resuming his own studies for a while in
Edinburgh. Consequently he retains most loving recollections of
everything linked with those very happy days; and it struck me
pleasantly, in this far-away isle, to find in his little drawing-room
many familiar photographs of Inveraray faces and places. Now his pretty
wife is mother of half-a-dozen typical French little ones, the youngest
of whom was the hero of a very pleasant dinner-party, given by his
parents the night before last, in honour of his baptism. There were
about a dozen persons present, including all the members of the
Protestant Mission, Captain Guignon of the Bossuet (a most friendly
trading vessel belonging to the firm of Messrs Tandonnet of Bordeaux),
and myself. All the time of dinner, the _petit nouveau-baptisé_ was laid
on the floor, where he rolled about laughing and crowing with delight,
while the other children played quietly beside him. It was a scene of
graceful home life, and illustrates the easy unconventional pleasures of
social existence in this sweet isle.[40]
It certainly is very strange how one invariably finds home links in all
corners of the earth. If there was one place more unlikely than another
to do so, I should have thought it was Tahiti. But, as usual, I find
myself quite _en pays de connaissance_. The day after I landed, Mrs
Miller drove me in her nice pony-phaeton to call on Mrs Brander. I
naturally expected that our conversation would be on purely insular
subjects. Imagine my astonishment when, after the first greetings, this
beautiful Anglo-Tahitian turned the conversation to Scotland—Morayshire,
Speyside, Elgin, and many friends there—and spoke of them all from
intimate personal acquaintance!
Then, for the first time, it flashed across me that the name which had
become so familiar to my ear as that of _la Maison Brandère_, was simply
that of a county neighbour in Scotland; and that Mr Brander of Tahiti
was none other than a half-brother of Lady Dunbar Brander,[41] who in
his early youth left Elgin and went forth to carve his fortune in
foreign lands. You know how little interest people in Britain take in
watching the career of such lads, unless they chance to come home to
spend their gold. Mr Brander did not come home. He found in the South
Seas a field for his vast energies—embarked in trade, added ship to ship
till he owned a considerable fleet, and so his connection spread from
group to group; and he bought lands and built stores on all manner of
remote isles, and in course of time amassed a gigantic fortune. His
marriage with Titaua Salmon must have tended greatly to secure his
position in these isles; and so his business went on ever increasing,
till at length mind and body broke down under the constant strain, and
he died, leaving the whole care of his immense business to his young
widow, who is only thirty-four now, the eldest of her nine children
having been born when she was fifteen! She is the mother of as pretty a
covey as you could wish to see, beginning with two lovely grown-up
married daughters and one or two grandchildren, and ending with two
darling little girls, one of whom bears the charming name of Paloma, the
dove.
Mr Brander most wisely resolved that his wife’s brothers and his own
sons should have the advantage of a first-rate education in Britain.
Several of the boys are still at school at St Andrews, whence Alexander,
the eldest, recently came out here; but he must shortly return to
England, to look after property belonging to his father.
In all these far countries people talk of a run to England and back as
if it was the veriest trifle!—merely a run of fifty or sixty days, _viâ_
San Francisco, and across the United States; or, if economy has to be
considered, a voyage of 140 days in a sailing-ship round Cape Horn!
This afternoon Mme. Fayzeau took me for an exquisite drive into the
country. We drove along the shore on a road of fine green turf, skirting
the lovely calm lagoon, and passing by an endless succession of small
wooden houses, each almost hidden in bowers of blossom and shady fruit
trees, with pleasant lawns, where merry children played, while their
elders sat or lay on mats sewing, or twining wreaths, or rolling
cigarettes—all suggesting lives of easy-going happiness without undue
care; and the air was made musical by rippling laughter and mellifluous
voices.
I scarcely know why it is that Tahitian sounds so much more attractive
than the sterner Tongan tongue. Individual words are actually less
liquid, because of the frequent use of the aspirate. I am told, as
rather a curious fact, that whereas the Samoans and Tongans are so very
profuse in their expression of the word “thanks,” the Tahitians, like
the New Zealanders, have no equivalent for it.
[Illustration:
LE DIADÈME. AVENUE DE FAUTAWA.
TAHITI.
]
For love of his master, we went to see Commandant Aube’s poor sick dog
Fox, and learnt that it died very soon after his departure. Then we
drove through a most beautiful wide avenue of dark-green trees,
something like the Caroba, or locust-trees of Malta, completely
overshadowing the broad green drive. And now we were facing the
mountains in the centre of the isle, and looked up the lovely valley of
Fautawa, at the head of which towers a magnificent hill, so
symmetrically indented as to resemble a gigantic crown. Hence its common
name, Le Diadème, though to the natives it is still Maiauo.
Returning towards Papeete, we met many carriages and equestrians; for
here there is no lack of either. Most of the gentlemen were making their
way to a river, which is a favourite bathing-place; and I need not tell
you that a river-bath is one of the chief delights of a day in the
tropics.
Mrs Brander had invited us all to dine at The Red House, which is her
town home—a large three-storeyed red-brick house. There, amongst other
friends, we met a very delightful old lady, Mrs Simpson—a true “mother
in Israel.” Widow of one of the early missionaries, she shared in all
his labours, and in the joy of beholding the dawn of Christianity, when
its first rays dispelled the dark night of heathenism. Many a wondrous
change have those clear observant eyes witnessed in her half-century of
working life in these fair isles, and many a tale of thrilling interest
has she to tell of scenes enacted within her own recollection.
Of course, with the advance of civilisation, many of the picturesque
elements of earlier days have passed away. The natives no longer
assemble on shore to practise their writing lessons on the smooth
sea-beach; neither do they carry sand into the schools, that, by
spreading it on a closely-woven mat or rude table, it may serve as a
simple slate on which to work out the puzzles of arithmetic. The
advanced scholars no longer seek for smooth stones on the mountains, to
be polished with sea-sand till fine writing can be traced on them with
the spines of the echini.
Nor are the large leaves of the plantain used as letter-paper on which
to send messages, written with a blunt stick, which bruised the delicate
leaf without cutting it, and so produced a tracing of brown writing on a
glossy green surface. These letters were rolled up like a sheet of
parchment and tied with a strip of bark. A plantain-leaf being about
fifteen inches wide, and perhaps six feet in length, would allow of a
very long message being written on one scroll, and answered very well,
provided the letter had not far to travel; but of course the leaf would
shrivel and split within a few days. Now letters are written on common
note-paper, and bear the postage-stamps of the French Republic.
No longer are children summoned to school, and congregations to worship,
by the king’s messenger, lightly draped, but gaily wreathed, passing
swiftly round the village, blowing loud blasts on his great
trumpet-shell, and pausing at intervals to invite the presence of the
people. Now his place is filled by the very commonplace bell of
civilised life.
In the matter of dress, too,—though we may be thankful that Prince
Alfred’s strong commendation of the graceful _sacque_ has caused it to
triumph over all varieties of changeful and unbecoming fashion, which
for a while found favour here, and which ere now have covered these
comely heads with English bonnets and close-fitting white caps (!)—the
artistic eye would certainly prefer the dress of olden days: that of the
women consisting of soft drapery of beautiful cream-coloured native
cloth, wound round the body, passed under one arm and knotted on the
other shoulder, revealing the shapely neck and arm, while gay garlands
wreathed their hair; and for ear-rings, some wore a fragrant blossom
passed through one ear, and, in the other, two or three large pearls
fastened together with finely braided human hair.
The men, so many of whom have now adopted coat and trousers, then wore
either a very finely plaited, fringed mat, or a _pareo_—_i.e._, kilt of
native cloth, made either from the bark of the paper-mulberry or that of
the bread-fruit, or else from the filaments of the banyan-tree. Of these
the former was the whitest, and preferred for women; the latter was very
thin and brown. The cloth made from the bark of the bread-fruit was very
strong, and was dyed according to taste—either of a rich chocolate, a
brilliant yellow, or red. The two last were the favourite colours, and
were obtained from the sap and berries of different trees. Sometimes the
cloth was reversible—being black on one side and red on the other, and
varnished with vegetable gum to enrich the colour.
Some wore this handsome material as a cloak—falling from the shoulders
in flowing drapery, very becoming to a stately chief. Others wore it as
a _tiputa_ or tippet, which resembled the poncho of South America—being
simply a long piece of cloth, with a hole cut in the centre, through
which to pass the head, the garment falling over the back and chest and
reaching to the knees. Sometimes this _tiputa_ was beautifully
ornamented; and often it was made of curiously knotted fibre—generally
that of the hybiscus, from which fine fishing-nets were also made. Those
who could afford such luxury wore head-dresses made of the long
tail-feathers of the graceful tropic bird; and the poorest wore gay
flowers. But these were discarded in favour of regular English hats, and
the scarlet feathers were used as trimming for shabby black coats. Proud
was the man who became possessed of a pair of trousers, to be displayed
alternately on legs or arms! In short, the spirit of innovation was
attended with the usual hideous incongruities.
Instead of the big European boats of the present day, with nothing
distinctive except the form of their quaint triangular sail, there were
formerly fleets of canoes of every size up to 100 feet in length, with
grotesque carving on the raised stern and prow, and flags and streamers
of native cloth. They carried large sails of yellow matting, made from
the long leaves of the screw-pine,[42] which was much lighter than the
canvas of civilisation, but also much less durable. Here again the
picturesque element has suffered. In those days there were war canoes
and chiefs’ canoes, single canoes, and double canoes—like Siamese twins;
and in every fleet there was always a sacred canoe, that the presence of
the tribal god might not be lacking.
The gods of Tahiti seem to have been simple enough: some were in the
form of a large bird, others were merely a hollow cylinder ornamented
with bright feathers. The blue shark was deified, and had temples
erected in his honour, and a special priesthood; he was chiefly
worshipped by fishermen, though few whose path lay over the great waters
would fail to propitiate so powerful and cruel a foe. Terrible are the
stories of canoes which have been disabled and water-logged, and of the
hungry sharks that have gathered round in shoals, and picked off the
crew one by one, till the canoe, thus lightened, could float again; and
perhaps one survivor has escaped to tell of his comrades’ fate.
When Pomare II. determined to become a Christian, his first decided act
was to show the people with what contempt he now regarded the gods of
his ancestors, to whom the turtle had ever been held sacred. It was
invariably cooked with sacred fire within the precincts of the temple,
and a portion was always offered to the idol. A turtle having been
presented to the king, his followers were about to carry it to the
_marae_, when he called them back, and bade them prepare an oven and
bake it like ordinary food, without regard to the idol. Great was the
consternation of the attendants, who tremblingly obeyed, and watched the
king himself cut up the turtle and begin to eat. He vainly endeavoured
to induce those who were with him to share this impious feast: they
looked for some immediate manifestation of divine anger, and expected to
see the king stricken before their eyes. Great was their wonder when no
harm befell him, either on that day or on the morrow; and thus the first
step was taken towards the overthrow of the old superstition.
It was a simple but effectual test, and one which required considerable
courage on the part of him who first dared to try it. Pomare, on this
occasion, did for the people of Tahiti what Queen Kapiolani did for
those of Hawaii, when, descending to the brink of the awesome crater,
she defied the goddess Pélé by eating the blue berries held sacred to
her, and which none dared to taste without first throwing a handful as
an offering to Pélé.
In like manner did Pomare-Vahine, daughter of the King of Raiatea, teach
the same lesson to the chiefs of Eimeo, who had brought her a great
_faamuraa_, or feeding—_i.e._, a gift of roasted pigs, fowls, fish,
fruit, and vegetables. According to custom, the priests were present to
crave the blessing of the gods on the whole feast, by first selecting
the portions to be offered on the altars. But ere the heathen priests
could make their choice, the Christian chiefess bade her head man
consecrate the whole by thanksgiving to the Almighty. The crowd of
bystanders looked on in wonder, and the priests retired, not venturing
to claim for idol altars the food which, they felt, had thus been
offered to the Most High.
Many such tales might I now hear and preserve for your benefit, could I
but find time to listen with an undivided mind.
But there is so much that is new to hear and to see, that I hardly feel
able to disentangle the threads of so many subjects, which, apparently,
are all interwoven one with another. Doubtless, by degrees, they will
arrange themselves in a more orderly fashion.
In the evening we all walked home together, by a pleasant path along the
grassy shore, passing through a dark thicket of large hybiscus trees,
then beneath tall cocoa-palms, whose every frond lay clearly shadowed by
the brilliant light of only a crescent moon. No full moon in England
could shine with so soft a radiance.
The loveliness of the evenings here is indescribable; and well do all
the inhabitants know how to enjoy their beauty. Every one saunters forth
after dinner,—the general rendezvous being a grassy lawn under the great
trees near Government House, where the admiral’s excellent band plays
divinely, to the great delight of the Tahitians, who are themselves most
musical, and who assemble in crowds, listening in rapt delight to the
operatic airs, and then, by irresistible impulse, dancing joyously on
the turf, as valse and galop succeed one another.
But nothing could be more orderly and respectable than this mirthful
crowd, which strikes me the more forcibly from the fact that these are
not the characteristics generally ascribed to Papeete, but are in great
measure due to the wholesome influence of Admiral Serre and his
officers, and to the excellent discipline of the ships now in harbour.
Of course when a rowdy ship comes in, it is more difficult to preserve
order; and as most accounts are written by travellers who chance on
these unlucky times (and perhaps help to cause them), the place has got
a worse name than it ever deserved. So say the old inhabitants. Its
present condition of extremely orderly good behaviour is, however,
undoubtedly an exceptional result of the admiral’s iron rule and
stringent measures for the general weal. Immediately on his arrival, he
gave orders that every damsel whose morals were recognised as lax,
should be at once deported from the gay capital. So, without further
ado, all such were shipped off to the seclusion of their various country
districts, or else to more rigid seclusion, in charge of the
police,—only coming forth to sweep the roads, which, consequently, are
in a state of exquisite cleanliness and neatness.
It is not to be supposed that the present condition of preternatural
goodness will very long survive the departure of the admiral, as many of
the governors of the Protectorate seem rather to encourage what the more
staid residents deem unseemly frolic. Many of these governors are not
Frenchmen,—merely Creoles, whom the Tahitians dislike exceedingly, and
contemptuously describe as _Paumuto-Frane_ (Paumuto-men being Queen
Pomare’s pig-feeders, and _Frane_ being the equivalent of French). Many
gross errors and maladministrations have crept in during their rule; and
the admiral is now devoting his whole great energies to rectifying all
manner of abuses, greatly to the satisfaction of the Tahitians, with
whom he is apparently immensely popular. Moreover, he seems determined
to deal even-handed justice between the Protestant and Catholic
teachers, which the latter by no means appreciate, having so long been
greatly favoured by the Creole authorities.
Socially, in his double capacity of admiral and governor, he does all in
his power to make things pleasant for every one. For my own part, I am
bound to say that, from the very first evening of our arrival, he has
been unvaryingly courteous, and in every respect most thoughtful for me.
We meet very often, as he and some of his suite invariably join Mrs
Miller’s party every evening at the band, after which they walk back
with us along the beautiful shore to the British consulate, where we
generally have a second concert, and much pleasant chat of the most
polyglot order—English, French, and Spanish, in about equal parts—with
iced lemonade and liqueurs to help the flow of words!
The only drawback to my enjoyment of all this is the feeling that my
late most kind _camarades_ are so thoroughly out of it all. Like Rachel
bemoaning her little ones, they refuse to be comforted, and nothing will
induce any of them to come ashore to any place where they might by any
accident meet the admiral. Of course this is rather uncomfortable for
me; for though they all declare themselves most anxious that I should be
lionised in the best possible manner (_i.e._, officially), I fear it
must seem to them as if I had gone over to the enemy.
Still, there is no alternative; and the kindness which is even now
arranging my future plans, is such that I can but accept it gratefully.
Having proclaimed Ariiaue and Marau, King and Queen of the Isles, the
admiral is now making arrangements to escort them on a grand ceremonial
round of all the districts on each of the principal isles, that they may
personally receive the homage of their people. It will be a very
interesting occasion, calling forth whatever still remains of old native
customs. To my great delight, the admiral has asked me to join this
expedition. At first I treated the suggestion as a mere civil _façon de
parler_, no other lady having been invited; little Vaetua (Moë’s
daughter, the future queen) being Marau’s only companion. However, on
the following day an A.D.C. brought me an invitation in due form, and
the Millers are delighted, and say it will be the nicest thing possible
for me. So of course, now, I have definitely accepted, and am looking
forward to the ploy with the greatest possible interest. There are
twenty districts in Tahiti, and the intention is to visit two a day,
which will make our picnic expedition a ten days’ pleasure; after which
we return here to make a fresh start for the beautiful isle of Moorea.
_Sunday Evening._
At eight o’clock Madame Fayzeau took me with her to the Roman Catholic
cathedral for the military Mass, at which all high officials are
expected to be present. Soldiers with fixed bayonets stand on either
side of the altar, and others down the aisle, and present arms, kneel,
stand up, &c., obedient to a loud word of command, which, indeed, is the
only word spoken aloud till the final benediction and short chant. The
organ plays the whole time, and the congregation attend to their private
devotions, or do not, as the case may be. Apparently the fact of being
present is sufficient. Very few Tahitians attend the eight o’clock Mass.
The general congregation assemble at nine, when the service is audible,
and a sermon is preached, partly in Tahitian, partly in French.
After church we went to see the Sisters, some of whom are engaged in
nursing at the hospital, while the others teach in their own school.
Returning to the British consulate, we found a pleasant naval
breakfast-party; after which we enjoyed a calm peaceful afternoon here,
while Mr Green was engaged with some of his teachers and classes. He has
the charge of a very large native church here, where he holds forenoon
service, but frequently has occasion to visit churches in other parts of
the isle; and one of the many irritating French regulations forbids his
preaching in any church but his own without a special permit, which has
to be applied for, and granted afresh, every week, and is often delayed
till the very last moment, so that he has to wait with his horse ready
harnessed, and then probably drive much faster than he wishes, to reach
his destination in time.
As each member of the mission has his own native work to attend to, and
as every one in the island understands Tahitian, the only foreign
service is one held on alternate Sunday evenings by Mr Green and the
French _pasteurs_. This evening it was in English, according to the
Congregational form, and ended with the Holy Communion.
We had a lovely walk home, but remarked that the Parisian observance of
Sunday as a _jour de fête_ has superseded that very sacred reverence for
the Lord’s Day, which is so striking a feature in most of the
Christianised isles. To-night the crowd at the band was larger and
noisier than usual, owing to the presence of many French sailors, some
of whom were nearly as drunk as an average set of blue jackets, under
similar circumstances, would probably have been.
With some anxiety, I noted a wide halo round the moon, and devoutly
trust it may not prove an evil symptom of the coming weather; for
to-morrow morning we start on our grand expedition round the isle.
Now I must try to secure a good night’s rest, so shall close this
letter, which may take its chance of being taken to _some_ point by
_some_ vessel in the course of the next ten days.
YOUR LOVING SISTER.