CATHEDRAL OF PAPOAR—THE CHURCH OF THE COCOA-NUTS
On Sundays I always attended the principal native church, on the
outskirts of the village of Papeetee, and not far from the Calabooza
Beretanee. It was esteemed the best specimen of architecture in Tahiti.
Of late, they have built their places of worship with more reference to
durability than formerly. At one time, there were no less than
thirty-six on the island—mere barns, tied together with thongs, which
went to destruction in a very few years.
One, built many years ago in this style, was a most remarkable
structure. It was erected by Pomaree II., who, on this occasion, showed
all the zeal of a royal proselyte. The building was over seven hundred
feet in length, and of a proportionate width; the vast ridge-pole was
at intervals supported by a row of thirty-six cylindrical trunks of the
bread-fruit tree; and, all round, the wall-plates rested on shafts of
the palm. The roof—steeply inclining to within a man’s height of the
ground—was thatched with leaves, and the sides of the edifice were
open. Thus spacious was the Royal Mission Chapel of Papoar.
At its dedication, three distinct sermons were, from different pulpits,
preached to an immense concourse gathered from all parts of the island.
As the chapel was built by the king’s command, nearly as great a
multitude was employed in its construction as swarmed over the
scaffolding of the great temple of the Jews. Much less time, however,
was expended. In less than three weeks from planting the first post,
the last tier of palmetto-leaves drooped from the eaves, and the work
was done.
Apportioned to the several chiefs and their dependants, the labour,
though immense, was greatly facilitated by everyone’s bringing his
post, or his rafter, or his pole strung with thatching, ready for
instant use. The materials thus prepared being afterwards secured
together by thongs, there was literally “neither hammer, nor axe, nor
any tool of iron heard in the house while it was building.”
But the most singular circumstance connected with this South Sea
cathedral remains to be related. As well for the beauty as the
advantages of such a site, the islanders love to dwell near the
mountain streams; and so, a considerable brook, after descending from
the hills and watering the valley, was bridged over in three places,
and swept clean through the chapel.
Flowing waters! what an accompaniment to the songs of the sanctuary;
mingling with them the praises and thanksgivings of the green solitudes
inland.
But the chapel of the Polynesian Solomon has long since been deserted.
Its thousand rafters of habiscus have decayed, and fallen to the
ground; and now, the stream murmurs over them in its bed.
The present metropolitan church of Tahiti is very unlike the one just
described. It is of moderate dimensions, boarded over, and painted
white. It is furnished also with blinds, but no sashes; indeed, were it
not for the rustic thatch, it would remind one of a plain chapel at
home.
The woodwork was all done by foreign carpenters, of whom there are
always several about Papeetee.
Within, its aspect is unique, and cannot fail to interest a stranger.
The rafters overhead are bound round with fine matting of variegated
dyes; and all along the ridge-pole these trappings hang pendent, in
alternate bunches of tassels and deep fringes of stained grass. The
floor is composed of rude planks. Regular aisles run between ranges of
native settees, bottomed with crossed braids of the cocoa-nut fibre,
and furnished with backs.
But the pulpit, made of a dark, lustrous wood, and standing at one end,
is by far the most striking object. It is preposterously lofty; indeed,
a capital bird’s-eye view of the congregation ought to be had from its
summit.
Nor does the church lack a gallery, which runs round on three sides,
and is supported by columns of the cocoa-nut tree.
Its facings are here and there daubed over with a tawdry blue; and in
other places (without the slightest regard to uniformity), patches of
the same colour may be seen. In their ardour to decorate the sanctuary,
the converts must have borrowed each a brush full of paint, and
zealously daubed away at the first surface that offered.
As hinted, the general impression is extremely curious. Little light
being admitted, and everything being of a dark colour, there is an
indefinable Indian aspect of duskiness throughout. A strange, woody
smell, also—more or less pervading every considerable edifice in
Polynesia—is at once perceptible. It suggests the idea of worm-eaten
idols packed away in some old lumber-room at hand.
For the most part, the congregation attending this church is composed
of the better and wealthier orders—the chiefs and their retainers; in
short, the rank and fashion of the island. This class is infinitely
superior in personal beauty and general healthfulness to the
“marenhoar,” or common people; the latter having been more exposed to
the worst and most debasing evils of foreign intercourse. On Sundays,
the former are invariably arrayed in their finery; and thus appear to
the best advantage. Nor are they driven to the chapel, as some of their
inferiors are to other places of worship; on the contrary, capable of
maintaining a handsome exterior, and possessing greater intelligence,
they go voluntarily.
In respect of the woodland colonnade supporting its galleries, I called
this chapel the Church of the Cocoa-nuts.
It was the first place for Christian worship in Polynesia that I had
seen; and the impression upon entering during service was all the
stronger. Majestic-looking chiefs whose fathers had hurled the
battle-club, and old men who had seen sacrifices smoking upon the
altars of Oro, were there. And hark! hanging from the bough of a
bread-fruit tree without, a bell is being struck with a bar of iron by
a native lad. In the same spot, the blast of the war-conch had often
resounded. But to the proceedings within.
The place is well filled. Everywhere meets the eye the gay calico
draperies worn on great occasions by the higher classes, and forming a
strange contrast of patterns and colours. In some instances, these are
so fashioned as to resemble as much as possible European garments. This
is in excessively bad taste. Coats and pantaloons, too, are here and
there seen; but they look awkwardly enough, and take away from the
general effect.
But it is the array of countenances that most strikes you. Each is
suffused with the peculiar animation of the Polynesians, when thus
collected in large numbers. Every robe is rustling, every limb in
motion, and an incessant buzzing going on throughout the assembly. The
tumult is so great that the voice of the placid old missionary, who now
rises, is almost inaudible. Some degree of silence is at length
obtained through the exertions of half-a-dozen strapping fellows, in
white shirts and no pantaloons. Running in among the settees, they are
at great pains to inculcate the impropriety of making a noise by
creating a most unnecessary racket themselves. This part of the service
was quite comical.
There is a most interesting Sabbath School connected with the church;
and the scholars, a vivacious, mischievous set, were in one part of the
gallery. I was amused by a party in a corner. The teacher sat at one
end of the bench, with a meek little fellow by his side. When the
others were disorderly, this young martyr received a rap; intended,
probably, as a sample of what the rest might expect, if they didn’t
amend.
Standing in the body of the church, and leaning against a pillar, was
an old man, in appearance very different from others of his countrymen.
He wore nothing but a coarse, scant mantle of faded tappa; and from his
staring, bewildered manner, I set him down as an aged bumpkin from the
interior, unaccustomed to the strange sights and sounds of the
metropolis. This old worthy was sharply reprimanded for standing up,
and thus intercepting the view of those behind; but not comprehending
exactly what was said to him, one of the white-liveried gentry made no
ceremony of grasping him by the shoulders, and fairly crushing him down
into a seat.
During all this, the old missionary in the pulpit—as well as his
associates beneath, never ventured to interfere—leaving everything to
native management. With South Sea islanders, assembled in any numbers,
there is no other way of getting along.