THE ROYAL PROGRESS ROUND TAHITI—LIFE DAY BY DAY—HIMÈNES—A BEAUTIFUL
SHORE—MANUFACTURE OF ARROWROOT FLOWERS—A DESERTED COTTON
PLANTATION—TAHITIAN DANCING—THE AREOIS—VANILLA PLANTATIONS—FORT OF
TARAVAO.
PAEA, TAHITI, _Monday, Oct. 15, 1877_.
DEAREST NELL,—We have had a long and most interesting day, and I am
pretty well tired out. Still I must begin a journal letter to-night, as
we start again at daybreak, and I am sure you will wish for a detailed
account of our trip.
This morning at 8 A.M. we started on the _grand tour de l’île_. All the
luggage of the party had been sent on ahead in heavy _fourgons_, as had
also the band of the Magicienne, consisting of twenty sailors, in a
couple of _char à bancs_. Tahitian outriders, carrying the flag of the
district, preceded Ariiaue, now King Pomare V., who led our procession,
in a high dogcart, accompanied by his brother Tamatoa, and his little
nephew Hinoi, son of the late Prince Joinville. Then followed Admiral
Serre, M. Hardouin, the A.D.C., and myself, in a comfortable open
carriage, and capital horses. Queen Marau came next, with her lovely
little sister Manihinihi, and Moë’s child, Terii-Mae-Vaetua, who is next
in the succession. Sundry and divers vehicles followed, containing about
twenty French officers, Mr Barff as interpreter, and Joseph Miller.
The weather was perfect—not too hot; a brisk trade-wind brought the sea
roaring and tumbling in heavy breakers on the coral-reef, about a mile
from the shore, where our road skirted the calm lagoon, so blue and
peaceful and still. We drove through districts which seemed like one
vast orchard of mango, bread-fruit, banana, _faes_, large orange-trees,
lemons, guavas, citrons, papawas, vanilla, coffee, sugar-cane, maize,
and cocoa-palm,—together forming a succession of the very richest
foliage it is possible to conceive. Sometimes we amused ourselves by
counting such few trees as are not fruit-bearing. Here and there the
broad grass roads are edged with avenues of tall plantains,—very
handsome in a dead calm, but too delicate to endure the rough wooing of
these riotous trade-winds, which tear the huge leaves to ribbons, so
that the avenues are apt to have a _disjasket_ look.
Even the commonest crops are attractive,—the Indian corn and the sugar,
each growing to a height of eight or ten feet, with long leaves like
gigantic grass, and pendent tassels of delicate pink silk.
We halted at various points, where deputations had assembled to welcome
the king, and about eleven o’clock reached Punavia,—a lovely spot on the
sea-shore, at the mouth of a beautiful valley, above which towers Le
Diadème (that same crown-shaped mountain which I told you is so grand as
seen from Fautawa valley).
Of course I had not failed to bring my large sketching-blocks; and,
thanks to the kindness of Mr Green, I had been able to replace my
mildewed paper by a store of French paper, sold by the Government
offices at Papeete as unfit for use; but to me, after long experience of
Fijian mildew, it proved an unspeakable prize. M. Fayzeau, himself a
graceful artist, helped me quickly to select the very best spot for a
sketch,—from near a ruined French fort on the shore. Two small forts,
further up the valley recalled the days when Tahiti made her brave but
unavailing struggle for independence.
Ere long we were summoned to breakfast,—a native feast in a native
house, which was decorated in most original style, with large patchwork
quilts. These are the joy and pride of the Tahitian women, and so
artistic in design as to be really ornamental.
To speak correctly, I should call this repast a _faamuraa_—_i.e._,
a feeding: our fish should have been wrapped in plantain-leaves,
and broiled on the embers; the pigs baked on hot stones in earth
ovens, where the peeled bread-fruit and bunches of _faes_, or
mountain-plantain, should likewise have been cooked; and the only
salt provided should have been a little sea-water in a cocoa-nut
shell. But Tahiti has gone ahead so fast, that I cannot answer for
how things are done nowadays. I know that, instead of vegetable
plates—_i.e._, layers of large round hybiscus-leaves—we ate off
foreign plates, with knives and forks of best electro-plate, and
drank our red wine from clearest crystal glasses, and snowy
napkins were not forgotten.
There was a considerable consumption of raw fish, which is considered a
very great delicacy, and one for which many foreigners acquire a strong
liking. There is no accounting for tastes. King Ariiaue, who takes great
care of me at meals, has been trying to teach me this enjoyment, and on
my objecting, declares it is mere prejudice, as of course I eat oysters
raw—we might almost say alive. To this I can answer nothing, well
remembering the savage delight with which we have often knocked our own
oysters off rocks and branches, and swallowed them on the instant! But
then they are so small, and some of these fish are very large. Perhaps
one’s instinctive objection is to their size. Those most in favour are
of a most exquisite green colour.
During breakfast, and afterwards, the glee-singers of the district sang
_himènes_, which are the national music—most strange and beautiful
part-songs. Afterwards dancing was suggested; but only a few men
volunteered to show us the _Upa-upa_—_i.e._, the old national
dance—which is merely an exceedingly ungraceful wriggle, involving
violent exertion, till every muscle quivers, and the dancer retires
panting, and in a condition of vulgar heat. It is the identical dance
which we saw at the Arab wedding at Port Said, and in various other
countries—always an unpleasant exhibition. Happily the band struck up
some gay air, which delighted the people; and it continued to play till
four o’clock, when our procession again formed, and another lovely drive
along the shore brought us to Paea.
This is a charmingly situated hamlet of clean, comfortable houses, only
divided from the white coral-sand by a belt of green turf and fine old
iron-wood trees. Here our night quarters were assigned to us; and
certainly we are in clover. I am now sitting in “my own room”—one of
four good bed-rooms, opening off a large centre room,—all fresh and
clean, and gay with bright quilts and snowy linen. The king and queen,
and all the officers, and the band, have their quarters in different
houses.
But the pride of the district is its very large house for public
entertainment,—a long building, rounded at both ends like the Tongan
houses, with heavy thatch, and very light bamboo sides, quite
transparent. Here dinner was laid, in European style, for 300 guests,—an
upper table at one end, where the chiefs of the district entertained the
royal party. Other tables were ranged down each side of the
building,—each family in the neighbourhood undertaking to provide for
one, and there assemble their own friends. The whole great building is
beautifully decorated in Tahitian style, with palm-leaves and
tree-ferns, and festoons of deep fringe, made of hybiscus fibre, all
dyed either yellow or white: there must be _miles_ of this fringe on
that house. Yellow is happily admitted in Court mourning; so the
majority of the people have either a yellow neck-tie, or some yellow
flowers in their hats—a symptom of mitigated affliction, to express the
pleasure that now mingles in their grief for the good queen.
“Le Roi est mort,—Vive le Roi!”
But everywhere we find all the people clothed in long black robes, with
black hats and cropped hair, instead of the customary bright colours,
long glossy tresses, and gay wreaths. Here, even the district flag-staff
is adorned with a deep fringe of black fibre.
We went to dinner in most orthodox fashion, the admiral conducting
Marau, and Ariiaue taking me. The feast was warranted to be entirely _à
l’indigène_,—all native dishes; but its great charm consisted in the
table decorations, which were most ingenious and effective. Apparently
each table had a series of white marble centre-vases, which, on close
inspection, proved to be graduated lumps of the thick fleshy
banana-stalk. In these were arranged all manner of artificial flowers,
made of coloured leaves, or of the glossy white arrowroot fibre, or
bamboo fibre, which are used in making wreaths and hats; and from some
there floated a silvery plume of the lightest silky film, like fairy
ribbons. This is the snowy _reva-reva_, extracted from the interior of
young cocoa-palm leaves—a difficult operation, requiring the neatest
hand and long practice. As yet, I cannot produce more than a few inches
unbroken. The worker keeps a split stick, stuck in the ground beside
her, and into its cleft fastens one end of each ribbon as she peels it,
otherwise the faintest breath of air would blow it away. It is the
loveliest gossamer you can imagine.
At the end of the feast Tamatoa gave the example of adorning his own hat
and those of his neighbours with these lovely plumes, and all the pretty
arrowroot and bamboo flowers. Then we adjourned to the grassy shore, and
watched the clear full moon rise from the calm sea, while the
glee-singers sang their soft beautiful choruses. A few men and one or
two women began the same hideous dance with which they had favoured the
company in the forenoon, but they met with small encouragement, and the
singers carried the day—or rather the night.
I wish it were possible for me to describe Tahitian _himènes_ so as to
give you the faintest shadow of an idea of their fascination. But the
thing is utterly impossible. Nothing you have ever heard in any other
country bears the slightest resemblance to these wild exquisite glees,
faultless in time and harmony, though apparently each singer introduces
any variations that occur to him or her.
The musicians sit on the grass—or the mats, as the case may be,—in two
divisions, arranged in rows so as to form two squares. A space is left
between these where the “conductor,” should there chance to be one,
walks up and down, directing the choruses. But very often there is no
leader, and apparently all sing according to their own sweet will. One
voice commences: it may be an old native tune, with genuine native words
(the meaning of which we had better not inquire), or it may be a
Scriptural story versified, and sung to an air originally imported from
Europe, but so completely Tahitianised that no mortal could recognise
it, which is all in its favour; for the wild melodies of this isle are
beyond measure fascinating.
After one clause of solo, other voices strike in—here, there,
everywhere—in harmonious chorus. It seems as if one section devoted
themselves to pouring forth a rippling torrent of Ra, ra, ra-ra-ra!
while others burst into a flood of La, la, la-la-la! Some confine their
care to sound a deep booming bass in a long-continued drone, somewhat
suggestive (to my appreciative Highland ear) of our own bagpipes. Here
and there high falsetto notes strike in, varied from verse to verse, and
then the choruses of La and Ra come bubbling in liquid melody; while the
voices of the principal singers now join in unison, now diverge as
widely as it is possible for them to do, but all combine to produce the
quaintest, most melodious, rippling glee that ever was heard. Some
_himènes_ have an accompaniment of measured hand-clapping, by hundreds
of those present. It is curious in its way, chiefly as a triumph of
perfect time, but I do not think it attractive. The clear mellifluous
voices need no addition; and as they ring out suddenly and joyously, in
the cool evening, I can imagine no sound more inspiriting.
To-night our party received a pleasant addition, the queen’s two
sisters, Moetia and Prie, having driven over from Papeete, on their way
to join their mother, Mrs Salmon, who, as high chiefess of the next
district, is to receive her daughter to-morrow morning.
All the time I have been writing to you, there have been occasional
bursts of _himène_ singing, and of the far less musical accompaniment of
the _Upa-upa_; but now quiet reigns, so I may as well sleep while I can.
Good-night.
MATAIEA, PAPEOORIRI, _Tuesday, 16th_.
This morning we were all astir at 5 A.M., and had early coffee on the
cool verandah. All the luggage was started by 6 o’clock, and then I had
a quiet hour’s sketching from beneath one of the great iron-wood trees
(_casuarina_). At 7 o’clock our procession started; every one cheery and
good-tempered; on every side hearty greetings—“_Yarra na! Yarra na!_”
and sounds of careless laughter, and merry voices. There is certainly a
great charm in this pretty liquid language, and in the gentle
affectionate manner of the people, who seem to be overflowing with
genial kindliness.
As usual, our path lay through such bowers of endlessly varied foliage
as to form one continuous panorama of delight. No painter’s brush could
produce such infinite shades of green as are here multiplied,—from the
delicate tender hues of the silky young banana-leaves, ranging through
every description of dark-green and bright-green, blue-green and sunlit
yellow, till the eye is fain to rest on the sombre hair-like foliage of
the iron-wood trees, which grow on the very brink of the sea, their long
tresses literally drooping to the water.
We passed through plantations of coffee, not close-clipped as in Ceylon,
but growing tall and rank, and overshadowed by cocoa-palms, yet loaded
with bright scarlet berries. The coffee shrubs are here made to do
double duty, and serve as props for the vanilla, which is trained to
creep all over them, its fragrant pods intermingling with the coffee
cherries.
The broad road of soft green turf next led us through groves of
luxuriant bread-fruit trees with large pale-green fruit, dark
mango-trees and orange-trees alike laden with their half-ripe crop, and
here and there we passed a fragrant rose-apple tree, the fruit of which
tastes exactly like the scent of roses. But of all heavenly perfumes,
commend me to the blossom of the Tahitian chestnut, a noble forest-tree,
with rich dark foliage, standing out in strong relief from the cool
grey-greens of the hybiscus, with the lemon-coloured blossoms, which
clothes the base of the mountains.
Beyond that belt of cool shadow the great green hills tower in strange
fantastic form, seamed by deep valleys, down which pour crystal streams,
so numerous that the sparkling air seems to re-echo the musical voice of
many waters. Every weird fantastic rock-pinnacle is draped by clinging
vines, infinite in their variety, and all alike lovely; and the clear
sunlight playing on the golden green of the mountain-summits, tells that
even there, the same wealth of all things beautiful abounds.
This was the panorama that rose on our left hand as we drove along the
shore. On our right, like a silver shield, lay the calm glittering
lagoon, reflecting, as in a mirror, the grand masses of white cloud, and
bounded by the long line of breakers, flashing as they dashed on the
barrier-reef. Beyond these lay outspread the vast Pacific, its deep
purple flecked with white crests, telling how briskly the trade-winds
blew outside. And far on the horizon, the rugged peaks of Moorea rose,
clear and beautiful, robed in ethereal lilac. Far above our heads the
light fronds of the cocoa-palm interlaced, forming a fairy canopy,
through which we looked up to the clearest blue heaven. I think it must
be a cold unthankful heart that could so look up, without some echo of
the _Benedicite_—
“O ye mountains and hills, O ye seas and floods, O all ye green things
upon the earth,
Bless ye the Lord! praise Him and magnify Him for ever.”
Two hours’ drive brought us to Papara, where a very grand reception
awaited the young king and queen. Mrs Salmon, the queen’s mother, had
assembled all her vassals in most imposing array; and a double row of
_himène_ singers lined the road, singing choruses of congratulation,
taken up alternately on the right hand and on the left. The effect was
very pretty. Many relations of the family had also assembled to greet
their royal kinsfolk.
Very quaint handsome _tiputas_ were presented to the king and the
admiral. These are ceremonial garments, reaching from the neck to the
knee, made from the fibre of bread-fruit bark, and covered with flowers
and twists of the glossy arrowroot fibre, each stitched on separately.
To the queen, the admiral, and myself, were presented most lovely crowns
of the same silvery arrowroot; while for the gentlemen were provided
garlands and necklaces of fragrant white or yellow blossoms, and
charming hats of white bamboo fibre, manufactured by the ladies and
their attendants.
I may as well tell you how the lovely arrowroot fibre is obtained. It is
the inner coating of the flower-stalk, which is a hollow stem like that
of hemlock, and grows to a height of about four feet. These stalks are
soaked in running water till the green outer skin begins to decay. Then
the stalk is laid on a flat wooden board, and a woman slits it open from
end to end with a sharp shell, with which she then proceeds to scrape
off every particle of green, and there remains a lovely ribbon, like
very glossy white satin, ribbed longitudinally: with a sharp thorn she
divides this into very narrow strips. And this is the material most in
use in the art-world of Tahiti, being woven by deft fingers into all
manner of pretty ornaments for hair, dress, and fans. Bamboo is prepared
in much the same manner, but is a harsher material to work, and much
less ornamental.
The house at Papara, and the large breakfast-room, were most tastefully
decorated with great tree-ferns and bright yellow banana-leaves, plaited
to form a sort of fringe. Wild melodious _himènes_ were sung all the
time of the feast, and afterwards the band played operatic airs till 3
o’clock, when we once more started on our journey.
In this district much cultivation has impaired the beauty of wild
nature. Large tracts of land have been laid out for scientific planting
of cotton and coffee; and after all, the fields have been abandoned, the
crops left to run wild, and are now rank straggling bushes struggling
for life with the overmastering vines. In itself the cotton is a pretty
shrub, its yellow blossom with claret-coloured heart closely resembling
the lemon-coloured hybiscus, while its bursting pods offer their soft
white fluff to all comers. But a softer, silkier cotton for stuffing
pillows, is that obtained from the tall cotton-tree, with the scarlet
blossom and long green pod.
We halted at the melancholy deserted plantation of Atiamano, which in
very recent years was the home of the manager for the Tahiti Cotton and
Coffee Plantation Company—a reckless speculator with the capital
intrusted to him. Never was there a truer illustration of the proverb
concerning cutting broad thongs from other men’s leather.
Mr William Stewart, an ex-cavalry officer, arrived in Tahiti about the
year 1860, and obtained the sanction of the French governor for the
purchase of a very large property, to which he gave the name of Terre
Eugénie, and at once commenced every species of improvement. First-class
roads, high cultivation, hotels which never paid, because of the
princely hospitality freely offered to all comers in his own splendid
country-house;—these, with his genial friendliness and good fellowship,
naturally made him the most popular man in Tahiti, and one whose praises
have been sung by all travellers. To work the estates he imported about
1000 Chinamen, and 300 “foreign labour” from the Central Pacific and the
Hervey Isles; and to those he is said to have been a kind master, caring
for them in sickness as in health, by the provision of good hospitals.
Of course there were not lacking enemies who grudged Mr Stewart his
apparent success, and many were the virulent attacks made upon him by
other settlers in the group. Specimens of very inferior cotton were
circulated in Europe, purporting to be samples of the finest growth of
Atiamano; and sensational paragraphs appeared in various American
papers, describing the infamous cruelties of which he and his overseers
were declared guilty towards their wretched labourers. So damaging were
these attacks, that Mr Stewart demanded a public inquiry, which was
granted by the French Governor, when all these accusations were proved
to be iniquitous libels. The little army of 1300 workmen were found to
be unusually healthy and happy; and the only serious complaint made to
the commissioners was by the Chinamen, who considered it most unfair of
Mr Stewart to object to their committing suicide by hanging, as the
easiest way of paying their gambling debts!
This cloud of aspersions having been effectually disproved, everything
looked fair on the surface till, in an evil day, the shareholders began
to take alarm. No title-deeds were forthcoming. All capital had
evaporated utterly, and in 1874 the luckless manager died miserably, and
the great bubble burst. Now the whole place is falling to ruin, and a
more miserable sight I have rarely seen. A certain number of the
Chinamen still remain—they, of course, can always contrive to pick up a
living somehow—but the bulk of the large village of wooden houses, once
tenanted by master and men, now stands empty, the plantation is utterly
neglected, the cotton-fields are all overgrown with guava scrub, and the
whole place is a picture of desolation; nothing flourishes save the long
avenue of plantains, which, Tahiti fashion, are planted on either side
of the road.
It seems strange that no enterprising person should have stepped in to
buy up the estate which, at the time of Mr Stewart’s death, was in such
good working order; but, like everything else in this country, it has
suffered from the meddling propensities of the French Government, which,
when the estate was declared bankrupt, fixed on it an upset price so
exorbitant, that no purchaser has yet been found, nor is any likely to
come forward.
We have now got into the true orange country. Some of the trees here are
much larger than the parent trees, which we saw near Sydney; and yet, as
compared with the orange-groves of Malta, we thought the Australian
trees were perfect giants—that is to say, we could walk upright under
their lowest branches. The whole air is perfumed with the fragrant
blossoms, and boughs have been gathered to adorn our rooms.
Here, though the dining-hall is as fine as in other districts, the
sleeping quarters are less inviting, so Marau offered me a room in the
house assigned to her. Being a native house (_i.e._, not built of wood,
as many now are), it is rather like living in a bamboo cage, exceedingly
airy and transparent; but it is lined with temporary curtains, so we are
screened from the general public. This afternoon we strolled along the
coast till we found a most delightful bathing-place, where the Anapu, a
clear delicious river, flows into the sea. The two pretty girls,
Manihinihi and Vaetua, of course bore us company, as also the queen’s
handmaid, who was laden with _pareos_ and towels; the _pareo_ being
simply a couple of fathoms of bright-coloured calico, which, knotted
over one shoulder, forms an efficient and picturesque bathing-gown.
We returned just in time for such a fish-dinner as Greenwich never
equalled. Fish of all sorts and kinds (cooked and raw to suit all
tastes), excellent lobsters and crabs, huge fresh-water prawns, delicate
little oysters, which grow on the roots and branches of the mangrove,
which fringes some muddy parts of the shore. But most excellent of all
is another product of the briny mud, altogether new to me—a hideous but
truly delicious white cray-fish (_cankrelat de mer_, my French friends
call it, _varo_ or _wurrali_ in Tahitian). We have all registered a
solemn vow never to lose a chance of a _varo_ feast. Then there were
shell-fish and salads, and many other good things. The tables were
decorated in a manner quite in keeping with the dishes served, with
pillars of white banana root-stem, just like alabaster, with a fringe of
large prawns at the top, and a frieze of small lobsters below—a very
effective study of scarlet and white.
After the feast we all sat out in the moonlight, listening to the
_himène_ singing, which, I need scarcely say, was lovely. But of course
some districts excel, and have finer voices, more practice, and a better
conductor.
I have just been told that we are only thirty-five miles from Papeete.
We have taken the journey in such enjoyably short stages, that we have
certainly made the most of our distance. Now we are approaching the
southern peninsula, which is connected with this, the main isle, by a
comparatively low wide ridge. This we are to cross to-morrow.
ON THE PENINSULA, TARAVOU,
_Wednesday, 17th_.
This morning at daybreak the admiral went off to attend Mass, and then
examine the schools. He seems inclined to administer very even-handed
justice between the Catholics and Protestants, which does not greatly
gratify some of the priests. We spent the morning pleasantly strolling
about the village of bird-cage houses embowered in the orange-groves,
and gay with rosy oleanders and crimson hybiscus.
At eight we started. The weather was threatening; and soon heavy rain
came on, which mocked our waterproofs, and gave us a thorough soaking,
which we all bore philosophically, only regretting that we drove through
a most lovely ferny pass at a moment when all our umbrellas were
striving to exclude the rain, in which they failed, and only succeeded
in hiding the view.
Near the village of Papeari we found all the children of the Catholic
school, headed by a very pleasant, keen-looking young priest, drawn up
with the _himène_ singers to welcome the king and the admiral. Of course
they were all drenched, but none the less musical. At the head of the
singers stood Marau’s aunt, Minito, a true Tahitian chiefess, sister to
Mrs Salmon, and widow of Mr Sumner, a Sandwich Island half-white.
The rain having ceased, we all walked together to Mrs Sumner’s house,
where we were partially dried—no fear of fever in this blessed climate.
We then proceeded to the large _cheferie_, where breakfast was prepared
in the usual style—the house prettily decorated with flags, tree-ferns,
and plaited cocoa-palm leaves. The tables were all adorned with
ornaments made of the solid white banana-stalk, in which were set
branches of thorny lemon, and on each thorn were stuck different
blossoms, scarlet or yellow hybiscus, canna, and gardenia. “When we were
seated, women came round bearing garlands of the delicate artificial
arrowroot flowers, and crowned every one of us. Many of the party had
already secured filmy plumes of the snowy _reva-reva_; and the majority
of the women, following the good example of Marau, no longer pretend to
have cut off their beautiful hair, but now wear it in two long jet-black
tresses, adorned with gardenias or such other fragrant blossoms as they
may find. With flowers as necklaces and ear-rings, the Court mourning is
becoming less lugubrious.
After breakfast, _himènes_ as usual, with interludes of most hideous
dancing. There is never any variety, always the same utterly ungraceful
wriggle. Happily the band generally comes to the rescue, with some
attractive air, which puts the dancers to flight. There never seem to be
more than two or three, and these do it as a professional exhibition—as
a curious relic of olden times.
It does seem strange (accustomed as I now am to the endlessly varied and
most graceful dances of the Fijians) to find that these Tahitians have
apparently no notion of dancing, except this _Upa-upa_, which for many
years was discountenanced by the chiefs, in their first anxiety to put
away every trace of heathenism. But under French influence it has been
revived; and though the more respectable natives consider it an
objectionable exhibition, and one in which few care to join, a certain
number of dancers crop up at every village where we halt: their
position, however, appears to be no higher than that of strolling
jugglers at English fairs.
In heathen days the _Upa-upa_ was the distinguishing dance of an
atrocious sect called the Areois—religious fanatics and libertines of
the vilest order, who were held in reverent awe by the people, and
allowed every sort of privilege. They travelled from village to village
in very large companies, sometimes filling from fifty to eighty canoes.
Whenever they landed great sacrifices were offered to the gods; and for
so long as they chose to remain in one place, they were the honoured
guests of the chief, and had to be provided for by the villagers, whom
they entertained by acting pantomimes and reciting legends of the very
unholy gods, singing songs in their honour, wrestling, gesticulating,
and dancing, till they worked themselves up to a pitch of frenzy which
was considered religious, and the night was spent in wild orgies. Their
full dress on these occasions generally consisted only of a little
scarlet and black dye; the seeds of the vermilion-plant and charcoal
furnishing the materials. At other times they wore kilts of the yellow
dracæna and wreaths of scarlet Barringtonia.
They were divided into distinct classes, distinguished by the manner in
which they were tattooed. The lowest class had merely a circle round the
ankle; the next had one stripe on the left side; the third was marked on
each shoulder; the fourth on both sides, round the body; the fifth was
tattooed from the fingers to the shoulders, and the leaders were adorned
with stockings of the same. The imprinting of these indelible
class-marks was part of a religious festival, at which great offerings
of food and goods were presented to the gods, and to these their
servants, and on this one occasion women, were allowed freely to partake
of the feast, and to eat of the meat which had been offered in
sacrifice, which at other times they dared not touch without incurring
the penalty of death.
The most horrible feature of this society was, that by its primary law
no Areoi was allowed to rear his offspring. Celibacy was by no means
enjoined—very much the reverse; indeed each Areoi had an acknowledged
wife, who was a member of the society: but of the innumerable children
of these favoured sinners, not one was ever suffered to live; and any
person desiring to enter the holy brotherhood, was required in the first
instance to murder any children he might already have. The sect was
supposed to have been divinely instituted, and its members were sure of
admission to the Rohutu _noa-noa_, or fragrant paradise, in which the
blessed were to spend an eternity of feasting, with every delight that
heart or flesh could desire.
The total extinction of this society was one of the most marked triumphs
of Christianity in this group; and the early missionaries record with
thankful wonder, that many Areois were among their earliest and most
zealous converts and steady adherents, and became hard-working and
successful teachers and native missionaries, striving with their whole
energy to counteract the evils in which they had hitherto been prime
movers.
Such being the associations connected with this most unattractive dance,
it certainly is strange to read the regrets, expressed by various
travellers, that the missionaries should have seen fit to discourage it,
as if in so doing they had deprived the people of some delightful
pleasure. It is a very different thing from the beautiful and artistic
dances of Fiji, which the Wesleyan Mission have so wisely encouraged the
people to retain, even at their school and church festivals.
This afternoon was clear and bright, and the drive to the isthmus and
then up the ridge was very beautiful. Part of the road lay through a
real jungle of large orange-trees laden with ripe fruit. I need not say
how we feasted; as did also herds of many pigs, that wander at large
through these enchanting thickets, and find an ample supply of fruit
which falls unheeded on the grass—true windfalls! It is from these
groves that cargoes of several hundred thousand oranges are carried to
San Francisco by every opportunity.
Imagine the joy of some poor ragged-school child, whose one treat is an
orange at Christmas, and whose home is in the slums of any of our
horrible cities, could it but wake to find itself in this elysium. I
remember Dr Guthrie’s ragged schools coming to spend one day at Winton
Castle with dear old Lady Ruthven, and the teachers told me that there
were many children present who had never before in their short lives set
foot in the country. Would that they could all be transported for a
while to the orange-groves of Tahiti!
To-day we also passed some large vanilla plantations, in admirable
order. The vanilla is a creeper, and is planted at the foot of some
shady shrub, up which it climbs and twines among the branches. To
economise labour and space, two crops are combined, by training the
vanilla over either coffee-bushes or the vermilion-tree, which carries
its bright seeds in small pods. The vanilla itself is a precarious crop,
requiring much watchful care at each stage of its growth, which,
however, it well repays, as it fetches four dollars per pound. Moreover,
it is a fragrant harvest.
This place is a military station; the French have a fort here, and some
soldiers. I believe that political offenders are sent to Taravou to
expiate their supposed misdeeds within its walls. M. de Damian,
commandant of the fort, had provided comfortable quarters for the
admiral and his party at his own house, and an excellent room was most
kindly assigned to me. Marau and Ariiaue have gone on to another
village, where we are to join them in the morning.
The French soldiers here employ some of their leisure hours in the care
of a garden, which rewards them with excellent vegetables and glorious
roses. I had the delight of arranging delicious nosegays for the
dinner-table this evening, and have a lovely bunch of roses now beside
me.
It is again raining heavily, but we rejoice thereat, for generally a
deluge of rain at night is followed by a clear balmy morning, and all
the lovely vegetation appears in its freshest glory.
Now I must bid you good-night.