SAMOA, OR THE NAVIGATORS’ ISLANDS.
APPEARANCE--CHARACTER--DRESS--MANUFACTURES.
POSITION OF THE GROUP, AND DERIVATION OF THE NAME -- GENERAL
APPEARANCE OF THE PEOPLE -- THEIR CHARACTER FOR GENTLENESS,
HOSPITALITY, HONESTY, AND COURTESY -- CARRYING A MISSIONARY AND HIS
FAMILY -- AFFECTION FOR CHILDREN -- DRESS OF THE SAMOANS -- THE
TATTOO A PARTIAL SUBSTITUTE FOR DRESS -- MODE OF TATTOOING -- TIME
OCCUPIED IN COMPLETING THE OPERATION -- THE FINE MATS OF SAMOA --
WIG MAKING -- FEATHER HEADDRESSES -- DRESS OF THE WOMEN -- DANCING
COSTUME -- ADVICE TO FAA-SAMOA -- MODE OF DRESSING THE HAIR --
TREATMENT OF WOMEN -- MODE OF MAKING CLOTH -- THE PROFESSIONAL AND
HEREDITARY MANUFACTURER.
North of the Tongan group, and a little to the eastward, lie the
NAVIGATORS’ ISLANDS, more property called by their native name of
SAMOA, or HAMOA. The former of these names was given to them by
Bougainville, in consequence of the skilful seamanship of the natives.
There are eight islands comprehended in this group, the largest of
which is Savaii.
As is often the case among these island groups, no single king or head
chief is recognized, each island having its own ruler; under whom are
subordinate chiefs of different ranks. This mode of government is so
similar to that of the Tongans that we need not expend any time upon it.
The Samoans are a fine race of people, much exceeding the English
in average stature, and peculiarly well made. Their skin is smooth,
soft, and a warm reddish-brown in color, and the hair, though copious,
possesses none of that woolliness which distinguishes the hair of the
Papuan races, but is long, straight, and, in a few cases, possesses a
slight wave. Naturally there is but little beard, and the Samoan takes
a pride in extirpating every sign of a hair upon his chin. He is quiet,
composed, and stately in manner, so that in all things he presents a
bold contrast to the black, harsh-skinned Fijian, with his frizzed and
woolly hair, his copious beard, and his quick, restless, suspicious
manner.
Being savages, the Samoans have many of the imperfections which
necessarily accompany savage life, but at the same time they approach
nearer to the “noble savage” of the poet than most races of men. They
are hospitable, affectionate, honest, and courteous, and have well
been described as a nation of gentlemen. Toward strangers they display
a liberality which contrasts greatly with the cruel and bloodthirsty
customs of the Papuan tribes. The Fijians, for example, do all in
their power to repel strangers from their shores, either driving them
off, or killing and eating them. The Samoans, on the contrary, welcome
strangers, allot to them their best houses, give them the best food,
and make them feel that they are honored guests.
They are singularly affectionate in their disposition, and as parents
are rather too fond of their children. As a rule, a Samoan parent
cannot bear to thwart a child, and allows it to do what it likes. In
consequence of this absence of discipline, many a child dies through
the mistaken kindness of its parents, who have allowed it to eat food
that was unsuitable to it, or to engage in games for which it had not
sufficient strength.
The honesty of the Samoans is really wonderful. When a number of them
were on board of an English vessel, they scrupulously refrained from
stealing. Property which to them was equivalent to unbounded wealth
lay within reach of their hands, but not even a nail or a needle was
touched. In one instance, an European vessel went ashore on the rocks.
The whole of its cargo was at the mercy of the Samoans, but not a
man went on board of the vessel, and the whole of the property was
reserved for the rightful owners. There are many civilized countries
where the vessel would have been ransacked within an hour of her
striking on the rocks.
Once when a great chief, named Malietoa, went on board an English
vessel, accompanied by a younger brother, he examined everything with
great attention, but asked for nothing, only requesting the white men
to come on shore and visit him. This they did, bringing with them a
present of axes, mirrors, beads, knives, scissors, needles, and similar
articles. When the present was offered, Malietoa took up each article
separately, laid it on his head, and returned thanks for it, and after
he had gone through the whole of the present in detail, he made a
complimentary speech, in which he thanked the donors for the entire
gift. His brother, to whom a similar present had been offered, at first
refused to take the basket, priceless as were its contents, but passed
it on to his elder brother, saying that he would take whatever his
brother did not happen to want.
“At the close of this important and interesting interview, Malietoa
informed his people, who had been gazing with wonder upon the novel
proceedings, that a large quantity of valuable property had been given
to him, and that the English chiefs, to whom he was indebted for it,
would want something to eat on their return. ‘For,’ said he, ‘there are
no pigs running about upon the sea, neither is there any bread-fruit
growing there.’ Upon hearing this, the whole company instantly rose and
scampered away; and in about an hour they returned, bringing with them
fifteen pigs of various sizes, with a large quantity of bread-fruit,
yams, and other vegetables, the whole of which the chief presented to
us.” This extract, from the journal of Mr. Williams, the well-known
missionary, gives a good idea of the hospitable nature of the people.
Courtesy is, among the Samoans, reckoned as one of the duties of life.
They address each other by titles of honor, and it is considered as an
essential point of etiquette that, when one man addresses another, he
should use a title rather higher than that to which his interlocutor
has any claim. Should he be ignorant of the rank of the person whom he
addresses, he uses the term chief, as a safe one.
The earlier voyagers have all been struck with the Samoans, whose
gentle demeanor, perfect honesty, scrupulous cleanliness, graceful
costume, gigantic stature, and polished manners, made a strong
impression upon them. When Messrs. Williams and Barth visited these
islands, they were received in the most hospitable manner. As they went
on shore, the former happened to mention that he was tired, when a
young chief addressed a few words to the people, and in a moment the
visitor was lifted off the ground by a number of gigantic young men,
who seized him, “some by the legs, and others by the arms, one placing
his hand under my body, another, unable to obtain so large a space,
poking a finger against me; and thus, sprawling at full length upon
their extended arms and hands, I was carried a distance of half a mile,
and deposited safely in the presence of the chief and his principal
wife.”
Several children were on board, and were carried off by the natives in
great glee. One or two of them were missing for several hours, causing
their parents great anxiety. However, they were all brought back in
safety, their absence being due merely to the exuberant hospitality of
the Samoans. The natives were so delighted at their good fortune in
having the charge of a white child that they could not make up their
minds to restore it to its parents, but took it home, killed and baked
a pig and other food, feasted the child to the fullest extent, and
then, having kept it as long as they dared, restored it to its parents.
This anecdote carries out the statement already made, that the Samoans
are exceedingly fond of children. Mr. Pritchard mentions that on one
occasion, when he was witnessing a native dance, which is a performance
requiring the greatest exertion, the chief’s wife sat as a spectator,
with two fine twin children in her lap. The chief, engaged as he was in
the absorbing amusement of the dance, could not keep himself away from
his children, but every now and then left the dance to caress them. The
mothers nurse their children for several years, and a child of five or
six years old may often be seen to pull away its younger brother or
sister and take its place.
* * * * *
The dress of the Samoans varies considerably, according to the rank
of the individual and the occasion on which it is assumed. The usual
dress of the men is a sort of small apron, about a foot square, made of
the green leaves of the _Dracæna_ tree, but on occasions of ceremony
they generally wear a flowing robe called the lava-lava. This is made
of bark cloth, and is beautifully fine and soft, the Samoans excelling
in such manufactures, which will presently be described. This robe is
gathered round the waist into folds, and reaches down to the ankles.
Small as may be the ordinary dress of the Samoan men, they always seem
to be fully dressed, in consequence of the tattooing with which they
are carefully decorated. Even to European eyes the tattooing conveys
the same impression, and has been mistaken for a dress by some of
the early voyagers, who described the people as being clothed from
the waist downward, with fringed lace “made of a silken stuff, and
artificially wrought.”
The reader will remember that the New Zealanders tattoo no part of the
body except the hips, and that even in that case a semblance of dress
is produced. The Samoans tattoo the whole of the body from the hips to
the knees, covering the skin so completely with the pattern that it
looks at a little distance exactly as if the man were wearing a tight
pair of ornamental drawers.
Even European eyes become so accustomed to the tattoo that they are
rather shocked at its absence; and, according to Mr. Pritchard, an
untattooed Samoan does in truth look unmanly, looks even naked, by the
side of one who is tattooed. So completely is this feeling realized
by the natives that chiefs who have arrived at middle age frequently
undergo the process of tattooing a second time, in order to renew the
patterns, as they become dim and uncertain by lapse of years; for,
though indelible, the tattoo does fade in the course of years, as I can
testify from personal experience. When a very young boy, I read of the
custom of tattooing, and must needs try it on my own arm. I did not
do much of it, but the whole arm swelled up to the shoulder, and was
useless for some time. At first the marks were bright blue, clear and
well-defined, but now the blue is of dull indigo, and the outline very
undecided.
The production of this elaborate decoration is a work of considerable
time, the operation being, in the first place, too painful to be
continued for any long time; and, in the second, it is apt to cause
so much disturbance in the general system that the result would be
fatal if the whole were executed at once. The operation is generally
performed in company, a number of young men keeping company with the
son of the chief. When, for example, a chief’s son arrives at the
proper age, _i. e._ about eighteen, all the lads of his tribe assemble
to partake with him of the tattoo, which is to transform them from boys
into men.
There is quite a ceremony, or rather a series of ceremonies, for the
occasion. The tattooer or Matai, is a man of great influence, and his
services have to be requested in regular form, accompanied by a present
of fine mats. His acceptance of the mats ratifies the bargain, though
no regular charge is made. On the appointed day, the lads and their
friends meet in a house set apart for the ceremony, and more mats are
presented to the Matai. Should the youth be wealthy, he sometimes gives
a canoe. The friends of the lads are also bound to supply provisions as
long as the operation lasts.
The tools are simple enough, being a set of five “combs” and a little
mallet. The combs are made of human bone, and are an inch and a half
in length, varying in width from the eighth of an inch to an inch, and
looking very much like little bone adzes with the edges cut into a
number of teeth. These blades are attached to handles about six inches
in length. The pigment which is introduced into the wounds is made from
the ashes of the cocoa-nut.
All being ready, the young chief lies on his face in front of the
operator, and lays his head in the lap of his sister or some other
female relation, while three or four young women hold his legs, and
sing at the tops of their voices, in order to drown any groans or
cries that he may utter. This is done out of consideration for his
reputation, as it is thought unworthy of the state of manhood to utter
a sound. Still the pain is so intense that the lads often do utter
groans, and now and then actually yell with the pain. In one or two
instances they have been so utterly overcome with the agony that, after
they have been released they have not dared to submit themselves again
to the operation, in which case they are despised for life as cowards.
Having traced out his pattern, the operator begins his work, driving
the teeth of the comb through the skin by sharp and rapid taps of the
mallet; there is an art even in holding this instrument, the handle
of which passes under the thumb and over the fore-finger, and is used
with wonderful rapidity and regularity. “The rapidity with which the
Matai works his fingers,” writes Mr. Pritchard, “the precision with
which he moves the instrument and punctures exactly the right spot,
and the regularity of tapping with the mallet, are astounding.” By
the side of the patient are placed several assistants, furnished with
strips of white masi, whose duty it is to wipe away the blood as it
flows from the punctures of the comb, and to leave the skin clear for
the operator. Between every two or three strokes the toothed end of the
comb is dipped into the pigment, which is mixed with water.
The pattern is in its main elements alike throughout all the Samoan
Islands; but there are usually slight variations which denote the
island in which the man lives, and others which mark the family to
which he belongs. Sometimes, after a man has slain an enemy, he will
make an addition which corresponds to a grant of arms among ourselves.
The form of some animal is the ordinary pattern for such a badge of
honor.
About an hour is occupied in executing a patch of tattoo not quite
three inches square, and when this is done, the lad rises and another
takes his place. In a week or so, the turn of the first lad comes
round again, and so the process is continued for three or four months,
according to the number of the patients, not more than five being
operated on in a single day. When the pattern is about half completed,
the Matai has another present; but the great payment is only made when
the last finishing touch is put to the work. Should the Matai feel
dissatisfied with his fees, he will not go on with the work, and, as an
unfinished tattoo is thought to be most disgraceful, the friends of the
youths get together what property they can, and make up the deficiency.
[Illustration: (1.) TATTOOING DAY IN SAMOA. (See page 1013.)]
[Illustration: (2.) CLOTH MAKING. (See page 1016.)]
During the time engaged in the operation, the patients look most
miserable beings, the wounded parts swollen and inflamed, and
displaying as yet none of the elegant pattern which has been traced
on them. The lads hobble about in all sorts of contorted attitudes,
fanning away the flies with flappers made of white masi, and doing
all in their power to alleviate the pain. At last, however, comes the
reward of all their sufferings. As soon as the wounds are healed,
their friends get up a grand dance. As the costume of the male dancers
is nothing but the little apron of leaves which has been already
mentioned, the pattern of the tattooing is freely displayed; and the
lads, now admitted among the men, think themselves well repaid for
their former sufferings by the honor and glory of being ranked as men,
and by the admiration of the opposite sex.
An illustration on the preceding page represents the process of
tattooing. In the centre is lying the patient with his head in his
sister’s lap, and his legs held by her companions, who are singing,
in order to cover his groans, should he utter any. Near him are two
assistants with their white masi cloths, and at his side kneels the
operator, busily at work with his mallet and comb. The little vessel
of pigment is by his side. Ranged round the wall of the house are the
young men who are waiting their turn. Painful as is the operation, and
expensive as it is, involving not only the fees to the operator, but
a constant supply of provisions, all the lads look forward to it with
the greatest anxiety, knowing that they will never be considered as men
unless they can show a complete tattoo.
Both men and women wear mats, called in the native language “je-tonga.”
One of these mats is in my collection, and is a beautiful piece of
work. It is made of very narrow strips of leaf scraped thin, each
strip being about the fifteenth of an inch in width. These are plaited
together with beautiful regularity, and the whole is edged with a very
fine and almost silken fringe of the same material.
Some of these mats are decorated with the red feathers of the parrot
tribe, and increase in their value by age, being handed down to
successive generations, and having legends attached to them. My own
specimen has been adorned in a way which doubtless was very imposing
to a Samoan eye, though not to that of an European. The native maker
had evidently treasured up some scraps of English calico, and some blue
and yellow paper such as is used for wrapping parcels. These treasures
she has fastened to the mat, to which they give a most ludicrous
appearance.
Samoan chiefs, when full dressed for war or state, may be known at a
great distance by the splendid headdress which they wear. In the first
place, they increase the apparent size of their heads by enormous wigs
made of their own hair, which is suffered to grow long for this express
purpose. When it has attained sufficient length, it is cut off, and is
stained red, and frizzed out, until it assumes as large dimensions as
the woolly head of a Papuan. They also wear great plumes of feathers,
sometimes towering to the height of nearly two feet above their heads;
so that the height of a Samoan chief, measured from the top of his
plume, is not far from nine feet.
One of these headdresses in my collection is made of a vast number of
feathers, tied by the stems in little bundles, and carefully arranged
so that they shall droop evenly. There are about ten feathers in each
bundle. These tufts are arranged closely together in circles composed
of leaf stems and cocoa-nut fibre, and there are four of these circlets
placed one over the other, so that several hundred feather tufts are
employed for this single dress. The maker has ingeniously, though
ignorantly, copied the peacock, the egret, and other birds which
are furnished with trains. In them, the tail feathers are short and
stiff, so as to allow the long train of feathers to droop gracefully
over them. In a similar manner, the Samoan artificer has employed the
shortest and stiffest feathers in the lower-most circlet, while in the
uppermost are placed the longest and most slender plumes. The headdress
is really very handsome, and even when worn by an European gives a most
martial aspect to the countenance, especially when the war mat is worn,
and the huge Samoan club carried on the shoulder.
The dress of the women is made of the same material as that of the
men, but differently arranged. Their work costume is a petticoat of
_Dracæna_ leaves, but instead of being, like that of the men, a mere
short apron, it is much longer, and completely surrounds the body. On
occasions of state or ceremony, however, they wear lava-lavas of siapo
like those of the men, only put on rather differently, and of much
larger size. A woman of rank will often have this garment so long that
it trails on the ground far behind her.
Captain Hood, in describing an entertainment given in honor of the
white visitors, writes as follows. After the men had danced “a
number of girls entered, who went through a somewhat similar set of
evolutions, with infinite exactness and grace. It may seem incredible
to our fair sisters in England, that a young lady arranged in no other
garment but a mat tied round her waist should look handsomely dressed;
but could they see these Samoan belles enter the circle in their full
evening costume, with their coronets of nautilus shell and scarlet
hibiscus, and their necklaces of red and yellow flowers, I believe they
would admit that their appearance is highly imposing.
“Some wore beautifully plaited fine mats, which are so highly prized
that they cost more than a rich silk or satin dress. Others had white
shaggy dresses, made from the inner fibres of the hibiscus, the
amplitude of which would satisfy the most extensive patronesses of
crinoline, and indulged in trains equalling in length that worn by
those dames of England in former days, while their carriage and air
plainly showed that, whatever we might think, they felt themselves
superior beings.” To judge from the photographed portraits of these
Samoan beauties, Captain Hood is perfectly right; they not only look
well dressed, but, if anything, over dressed.
That this opinion was not a rare one is evident from Mr. Williams’s
account of Samoa, which he visited more than thirty years before
Captain Hood. The missionaries’ wives had endeavored to persuade the
Samoan women to wrap their abundant mantles over the whole of the
body, but without success. On the contrary, the Samoan belles in their
turn tried to convince the white visitors that it would be much better
for them to _faa Samoa_, _i. e._ to do in Samoa as the Samoans do.
Garments that covered the whole of the body might do well enough in
the white woman’s country, but when they came to Samoa they ought to
dress themselves like the Samoans, tie a shaggy mat round the waist,
coquettishly looped up on one side, and anoint themselves with scented
oil and color themselves with turmeric; wear a flower on the head
instead of a bonnet, and a necklace of flowers by way of a bodice.
Thus accoutred, they might _faa-riaria_, _i. e._ strut about in the
consciousness of being well dressed, and certain of admiration. There
is much to be said on both sides of the question.
The women wear their hair differently from the men, generally cutting
it rather short, and combing it back. It is then powdered with fine
lime made of burning coal, which has the effect of staining it of a
reddish purple hue, which is thought to be the most fashionable color.
After this is done, a Samoan belle merely twists a wreath of scarlet
hibiscus flowers among the hair. In both sexes great pains are taken
about the hair, and in order to promote its growth in after years the
head is kept shaved in childhood, the boys having a single lock of hair
on one side, and the girls one on either side.
There is a slight distinction of dressing the hair in the different
islands of the Samoan group. In some of them the women separate the
hair into multitudinous ringlets, each bound with cocoa-nut fibre, and
cut square at the bottom, much like the ancient Assyrian fashion. As
if to carry out the resemblance still further, the men preserve their
beards, and dress them almost exactly like those of the figures on the
Nineveh marbles.
In bodily form the women are by no means equal to the men, the latter
being truly magnificent specimens of humanity, while the former are
rather short, and stoutly made, with features that are pleasing in
expression, but have otherwise little beauty. They are as well treated
as in Tonga, and are not expected to do hard work. In fact, the men
seem to take a pride in assisting the weaker sex. Mr. Pritchard writes
on this subject as follows:--“We saw several women sitting quietly in
their canoe, whilst their cavaliers swam alongside, towing them through
the surf, not because they are at all less at home in the water than
their husbands and brothers, as we saw this afternoon, when a large
number of girls were alongside, who were as often swimming about,
laughing and talking, for about half-an-hour at a time in the water, or
sitting in their boats, which they are constantly upsetting.”
When the husband of a Samoan wife dies, his widow is not sacrificed at
his funeral, but is usually taken by his brother, after the ancient
Jewish custom. It is remarkable, by the way, that many of the Mosaic
laws still exist in full force among the Samoans. In time of war no
male captives are taken, all being killed. Their female relatives,
whether wives or sisters, are considered as the property of the
victors, and mostly become their wives. Thus it often happens that
women are related to both sides, and, as they are by courtesy allowed
to visit their relatives, all the designs of one side are speedily
told to the other. So, whenever the principal chief prepares any plan
of action, some of the women who have relations on the opposite side,
immediately go off and tell them about the proposed movements. Still,
the Samoans seem to make it a matter of honor not to take advantage of
this knowledge, and to allow the enemy to execute his movements without
interruption.
The women seem quite at their ease in warfare, and mostly accompany
their husbands to the wars, in order to supply them with necessaries,
and to nurse them if they should be wounded. Mr. Pritchard says that he
has seen them in the heat of action, carrying water to the wounded, and
seeming to care less for the thickly flying bullets than the warriors
themselves.
* * * * *
Before passing to another subject, we will complete our notices of
dress. The reader may remember that on page 977 was given a full
account of the various processes by which the inner bark of the paper
mulberry is made into garments. The Samoans employ the same method as
the Tongans, but are even more careful in the manufacture of the cloth,
which is in great request throughout many parts of Polynesia, and can
be recognized at once by a skilful eye.
The women are the sole manufacturers, and are wonderfully skilful and
patient over their work. In the first place, for the finest cloth they
always employ very young trees, not more than fourteen to fifteen
months old, and only two or three inches in diameter. They begin their
work by cutting down the trees, peeling off the bark, and steeping
it for eight and forty hours in water, so as to enable the rough
outer bark to be removed from the thin and delicate inner bark. The
well-known “bass,” with which gardeners tie up flowers, is a familiar
instance of “_liber_,” or inner bark, procured from the lime tree. By
constant beating, this substance becomes greatly increased in width
and reduced in thickness, and, like gold leaf, it can be beaten out to
almost any extent.
As the strips of bark are only ten or twelve inches wide, a number
of them are united by overlapping the edges and putting between them
arrow-root dissolved in water. The united pieces, while still wet, are
again beaten, and after a while the two pieces become incorporated into
one, and all signs of the junction disappear.
When a piece of sufficient size is made, printing and staining are the
next processes. The dyes are generally of three kinds, red, brown, and
yellow. The two first tints are obtained from clays, and the third from
the ever useful turmeric. The women who make and print the cloth do
not prepare the dyes, that being a separate occupation, and in these
islands the different professions are strictly limited to certain
families, just as is the case with the castes in India. The printing is
done on exactly the same principle that is employed in rubbing brasses
in this country. The pattern is made by fastening the flexible ribs of
the cocoa-nut leaf on a board. When the ribs are quite hard and dry the
cloth is stretched over them, and the dye rubbed over it with a stiff
brush, so that it only adheres to those parts of the cloth which press
against the raised pattern below. For patterns of a larger description
a softer bark is used, which holds a quantity of color.
There are in my collection several specimens of Samoan bark cloth; one
is very fine, pure white, six feet long, by two wide, and ornamented
with a fine fringe all round it. Another is thicker and stronger, being
made of four layers of bark, one placed upon the other. In some places
the junction has not been completed, and the different layers are quite
distinct. It measures rather more than seven feet in length and three
feet ten inches in width. It has a deep-colored border about eighteen
inches in width, composed of a diamond pattern impressed upon a number
of perpendicular parallel lines and dots. This border is a light red
in color, and upon it are several circles of dark brown. Circles of
a similar kind are scattered over the uncolored portion of the robe,
which is of a creamy yellow hue.
The third specimen is still thicker, and larger. It is seven feet
square, and has been completely covered on the outside with the clay
pigment, which has been put on so thickly as to make the fabric
comparatively stiff. Two broad bands of deep black are drawn across
it so as to divide it into three equal portions, and in each division
are four patterns also drawn in black, very much resembling the “broad
arrow” used in the government mark of England.
In the second illustration on page 1012 are shown the successive
processes of converting the bark into cloth. In the foreground and at
the right hand are seen some women kneeling in the stream, engaged
in scraping the _liber_ to free it from every particle of the outer
bark. One woman is examining a piece against the light, to see whether
it is quite clean. Behind them, and toward the left centre of the
illustration are more women, some of them beating and scraping the
bark with the square mallets which have been already described when
treating of Tonga, and another is busily employed in joining two pieces
with arrow-root. Just above them is another woman engaged in the more
skilful part of the manufacture, _i. e._ printing by rubbing dye over
the cloth when laid on the pattern board, and one or two of the boards
themselves are given, in order to show the cocoa-nut leaf pattern upon
them. In the distance, the other women are seen hanging the still wet
cloth up to dry.