CHAPTER III

THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE SAMOANS

Sec. 1. _The Samoan Islands_

About three hundred and fifty or four hundred miles nearly due north of

Tonga lies Samoa, a group of islands situated between 13 deg. 30' and 14 deg.

30' South latitude and between 168 deg. and 173 deg. West longitude. The native

name of the group is Samoa, which has this singularity, that it is

apparently the only name that designates a group of islands in the

Pacific; native names for all the other groups are wanting, though each

particular island has its own individual name. Samoa is also known to

Europeans as the Navigators' Islands, a name bestowed on them by the

French explorer De Bougainville, who visited the group in 1768. The

three most easterly islands were discovered in 1722 by Jacob Roggewein,

a Dutch navigator, but he appears not to have sighted the principal

islands of the group, which lie a good deal farther to the westward.

There is no record of any visit paid by a European vessel to the islands

in the interval between the visits of Roggewein and De Bougainville. The

whole archipelago was not explored till 1787, when the French navigator

La Perouse determined the position of all the islands.[1]

[1] Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States

Exploring Expedition_, New Edition (New York, 1851), ii. 117; J.

B. Stair, _Old Samoa_ (London, 1897), pp. 21 _sq._; F. H. H.

Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. (London, 1894) p. 500; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_ (London, 1910), pp. 1, 360.

The islands are disposed in a line running from west to east. The most

westerly, Savaii, is also the largest, measuring about forty miles in

length. Next follow two small, but important islands, Apolima and

Manona. Then about three miles to the east of Manona comes Upolu, the

second of the islands in size, but the first in importance, whether we

regard population, harbours, or the extent of soil available for

cultivation. The channel which divides Upolu from Savaii is from fifteen

to twenty miles broad. About forty miles to the east, or rather

south-east, of Upolu lies the island of Tutuila, with the fine and

almost landlocked harbour of Pangopango. It was in this island that the

French navigator La Perouse lost his second in command and twelve men in

a fierce encounter with the natives. The place where the fight took

place is now known as Massacre Cove.[2] Some fifty miles to the east of

Tutuila is situated a group of three small islands, Tau, Ofu, and

Olosenga, which are collectively known as Manua.

[2] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 27 _sq._; F. H. H.

Guillemard, _op. cit._ pp. 500, 504.

The islands are of volcanic formation and for the most part surrounded

by coral reefs, but the intervening seas are quite free from danger, and

the possession of good harbours renders Samoa politically important.

Viewed from the sea the islands are mountainous and for the most part

wooded to the water's edge, except where a stretch of fertile plain is

interposed between the foot of the mountains and the sea. The whole

group presents to the voyager a succession of enchanting views as he

sails along the coast. The eye is delighted by the prospect of lofty and

rugged mountains, their tops sometimes lost in clouds, their slopes

mantled in the verdure of evergreen forests, varied here and there by

rich valleys, by grey and lofty cliffs, or by foaming waterfalls

tumbling from heights of hundreds of feet and showing like silvery

threads against the sombre green of the woods. Along the shore rocks of

black lava alternate with white sands dazzling in the sunlight and

fringed by groves of coco-nut palms, their feathery tops waving and

dancing in the breeze, while the brilliant cobalt blue of the calm

lagoon contrasts with the olive-green of the deep sea, which breaks in a

long line of seething foam on the barrier reef. The scenery as a whole

combines romantic grandeur with wild and rank luxuriance, thus winning

for Samoa the reputation of being among the loveliest of the islands

which stud like gems the bosom of the Pacific.[3]

[3] J. E. Erskine, _Journal of a Cruise among the

Islands of the Western Pacific_ (London, 1853), p. 110; T. H.

Hood, _Notes of a Cruise in H.M.S. "Fawn" in the Western

Pacific_ (Edinburgh, 1863), p. 40; J. L. Brenchley, _Jottings

during the Cruise of H.M.S. "Curacoa" among the South Sea

Islands in 1865_ (London, 1873), pp. 37-39, 61 _sq._; F. H. H.

Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. 502 _sq._; John B. Stair, _Old

Samoa_, pp. 26 _sqq._

The island of Upolu in particular is wooded from its summit to the

water's edge, where in some places the roots of the trees are washed by

the surf, while in many places clumps of mangrove trees spread out into

the lagoon. The forests are dense and more sombre even than those of

Brazil. The lofty trees shoot up to a great height before sending out

branches. At their feet grow ferns of many sorts, while climbing vines

and other creepers mantle their trunks and sometimes even their tops.

But the gloom of the tropical forest is seldom or never relieved by

flowers of brilliant tints; the few flowers that bloom in them are of a

white or greyish hue, as if bleached for want of the sunbeams, which are

shut out by the thick umbrageous foliage overhead.[4]

[4] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 31 _sq._, 52 _sq._

Very different from the aspect presented by this luxuriant vegetation is

a great part of the interior of Savaii, the largest island of the group.

Here the desolate and forbidding character of the landscape constantly

reminds the traveller of the dreadful forces which slumber beneath his

feet. Extinct volcanoes tower above him to heights of four and five

thousand feet, their steep and almost perpendicular sides formed of

volcanic ashes and denuded of vegetation. For miles around these gloomy

peaks the ground presents nothing to the eye but black rocks, scoriae,

and ashes; the forlorn wayfarer seems to be traversing a furnace barely

extinguished, so visible are the traces of fire on the sharp-pointed

stones among which he picks his painful way, and which in their twisted

and tormented forms seem still to preserve something of the movement of

the once boiling flood of molten lava. The whole country is a barren

and waterless wilderness, a solitude destitute alike of animal and of

vegetable life, alternately parched by the fierce rays of the tropical

sun and deluged by hurricanes of torrential rain. Even the natives

cannot traverse these dreary deserts; a European who strayed into them

was found, after five or six days, prostrate and almost dead on the

ground.[5]

[5] Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel

de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) pp. 71 _sq._;

F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. 502 _sq._; J. B. Stair,

Old Samoa, p. 34; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 1

_sqq._

In Samoa, as in Tonga, volcanic activity has ominously increased within

less than a hundred years. Near the island of Olosenga, in 1866 or 1867,

a submarine volcano suddenly burst out in eruption, vomiting forth rocks

and mud to a height, as it was estimated, of two thousand feet, killing

the fish and discolouring the sea for miles round.[6] Still later,

towards the end of 1905, another volcano broke out in the bottom of a

deep valley in the island of Savaii, and rose till it attained a height

of about four thousand feet. Down at least to the year 1910 this immense

volcano was still in full action, and had covered many miles of country

under a bed of lava some ten or twelve feet thick, while with the same

river of molten matter it completely filled up the neighbouring lagoon

and replaced the level shore by an iron-bound coast of volcanic

cliffs.[7]

[6] F. H. H. Guillemard, _op. cit._ ii. 504; J. B.

Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 43.

[7] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 3.

A remarkable instance of these volcanic cliffs is furnished by the

little island of Apolima between Savaii and Upolu. The islet, which is

in fact the crater of an extinct volcano, is only about a mile long by

half to three-quarters of a mile in width. On every side but one it

presents to the sea a precipitous wall of basaltic rock some thousand

feet high, while the interior is scooped out in the likeness of a great

cauldron. Only at one place is there a break in the cliffs where a

landing can be effected, and there the operation is difficult and

dangerous even in fine weather. In bad weather the island is completely

isolated. Thus it forms a strong natural fortress, which under the

conditions of native warfare was almost impregnable.[8]

[8] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 33 _sq._; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 171.

As might be expected from their volcanic formation, the islands are

subject to frequent and sometimes severe shocks of earthquake. The

veteran missionary, J. B. Stair, has recorded that the shocks increased

in number and violence during the last years of his residence in Samoa.

The last of them was preceded by loud subterranean noises, which lasted

for hours, to the great alarm of the natives. At the north-west of Upolu

also, Mr. Stair used often to hear a muffled sound, like the rumble of

distant thunder, proceeding apparently from the sea under the reef. This

curious noise always occurred on hot, sultry days, and seemed to strike

a note of warning, which filled natives and Europeans alike with a sense

of awe and insecurity.[9] Thus if, beheld from some points of view, the

Samoan islands appear an earthly paradise, from others they present the

aspect, and emit the sounds, of an inferno.

[9] T. H. Hood, _Notes of a Cruise in H.M.S. "Fawn" in

the Western Pacific_ (Edinburgh, 1863), p. 145; J. B. Stair,

_op. cit._ pp. 41 _sq._

And with all their natural beauty and charm the islands cannot be said

to enjoy a healthy climate. There is much bad weather, particularly

during the winter months, when long and heavy rains, attended at times

with high winds and gales, are frequent. The air is more moist than in

Tahiti, and the vegetation in consequence is more rank and luxuriant.

Decaying rapidly under the ardent rays of a tropical sun, it exhales a

poisonous miasma. But the heat, oppressive and exhausting at times, is

nevertheless tempered by the sea and land breezes, which blow daily,

alternating with intervals of calm between them. Besides these daily

breezes the trade wind blows regularly from the east during the fine

season, when the sky is constantly blue and cloudless. Yet with all

these alleviations the climate is enervating, and a long residence in it

is debilitating to the European frame.[10] Nor are the natives exempt

from the noxious effects of an atmosphere saturated with moisture and

impregnated with the fumes of vegetable decay. The open nature of their

dwellings, which were without walls, exposed them to the heavy night

dews and rendered them susceptible to diseases of the chest and lungs,

from which they suffered greatly; consumption in its many forms, coughs,

colds, inflammation of the chest and lungs, fevers, rheumatism,

pleurisy, diarrh[oe]a, lumbago, diseases of the spine, scrofula, and

many other ailments are enumerated among the disorders which afflicted

them. But the prevailing disease is elephantiasis, a dreadful malady

which attacks Europeans and natives alike. There are many cases of

epilepsy, and though idiots are rare, lunatics are less infrequent.

Hunchbacks are very common in both sexes, and virulent ophthalmia is

prevalent; many persons lose the sight of one eye, and some are totally

blinded; not less than a fifth part of the population is estimated to

suffer from this malady.[11] Curiously enough, hunchbacks, who are said

to be very numerous on account of scrofula, used to be looked on as

special favourites of the spirits, and many of them, on growing to

manhood, were accordingly admitted to the priesthood.[12]

[10] Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States

Exploring Expedition_, ii. 118; Violette, "Notes d'un

Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions

Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 72 (who, however, affirms that the

climate is not unhealthy); T. H. Hood, _Notes of a Cruise in

H.M.S. "Fawn" in the Western Pacific_ (Edinburgh, 1863), pp. 144

_sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 16, 35 _sqq._

[11] Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States

Exploring Expedition_, ii. 124 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_,

pp. 165 _sq._, 169 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and

Polynesians_, pp. 180 _sqq._

[12] S. Ella, "Samoa," _Report of the Fourth Meeting of

the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science,

held at Hobart, Tasmania, in January 1892_, p. 622.

During the stormy season, which lasts from December to April, hurricanes

sometimes occur, and are greatly dreaded by the natives on account of

the havoc which they spread both among the crops and the houses. A

steady rain, the absence of the sun, a deathlike stillness of the birds

and domestic animals, and above all the dark and lowering aspect of the

sky, are the premonitory symptoms of the coming calamity and inspire

general consternation, while the thunderous roar of the torrents and

waterfalls in the mountains strike on the ear with redoubled

distinctness in the prevailing silence which preludes the storm. Warned

by these ominous signs, the natives rush to secure their property from

being swept away by the fury of the blast. Some hurry their canoes

inland to places of comparative safety; others pile trunks of

banana-trees on the roofs of their houses or fasten down the roofs by

hanging heavy stones over them; while yet others bring rough poles,

hastily cut in the forest, and set them up inside the houses as props

against the rafters, to prevent the roof from falling in. Sometimes

these efforts are successful, sometimes futile, the hurricane sweeping

everything before it in its mad career, while the terrified natives

behold the fruits of months of toil, sometimes the growth of years, laid

waste in an hour. On such occasions the shores have been seen flooded by

the invading ocean, houses carried clean away, and a forest turned

suddenly into a bare and treeless plain. Men have been forced to fling

themselves flat on the ground and to dig their hands into the earth to

save themselves from being whirled away and precipitated into the sea or

a torrent. In April 1850 the town of Apia, the capital of the islands,

was almost destroyed by one of these cyclones. When the rage of the

tornado is spent and calm has returned, the shores of a harbour are apt

to present a melancholy scene of ruin and desolation, their shores

strewn with the wrecks of gallant ships which lately rode there at

anchor, their pennons streaming to the wind. So it happened in the

harbour of Apia on March 16th, 1889. Before the tempest burst, there

were many ships of various nations anchored in the bay, among them five

or six American and German warships. When it was over, all were wrecked

and their shattered fragments littered the reefs. One vessel alone, the

British man-of-war, _Calliope_, was saved by the courage and skill of

the captain, who, seconded by the splendid seamanship of the crew,

forced his ship, in the very teeth of the hurricane, out into the open

sea, where he safely weathered the storm.[13]

[13] Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States

Exploring Expedition_, ii. 72; Violette, "Notes d'un

Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions

Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 72; F. H. H. Guillemard,

_Australasia_, ii. 504; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 38-41.

A special interest attaches to Samoa in so far as it is now commonly

believed to be the original seat of the Polynesian race in the Pacific,

from which their ancestors gradually dispersed to the other islands of

that vast ocean, where their descendants are settled to this day.

Polynesian traditions point to such a dispersal from Samoa as a centre,

and they are confirmed by the name which the various branches of the

race give to their old ancestral home. The original form of that name

appears to have been Savaiki, which through dialectical variations has

been altered to Hawaiki in New Zealand, to Hawaii in the Sandwich

Islands, to Havaii in Tahiti, to Havaiki in the Marquesas, and to Avaiki

in Rarotonga. In the Samoan dialect, which of all the Polynesian

dialects alone retains the letter S, the word presumably appears as

Savaii, the name of the largest island of the group, which accordingly

may be regarded, with some probability, as the cradle-land of the

Polynesians in the Pacific; though native traditions indicate rather

Upolu or Manua as the place from which the canoes started on their long

and adventurous voyages. On the other hand in favour of Savaii it has

been pointed out that the island holds a decided superiority over the

other islands of the group in respect of canoe-building; for it

possesses extensive forests of hard and durable timber, which is much

sought after for the keels and other parts of vessels; indeed, the large

sea-going canoes were generally, if not always, built on Savaii, and

maritime expeditions appear sometimes to have started from its

shores.[14] In proof that the Samoans have long been settled in the

islands which they now occupy, it may be alleged that they appear to

have no tradition of any other home from which their ancestors migrated

to their present abode. With the single exception of a large village

called Matautu in Savaii, the inhabitants of which claim that they came

originally from Fiji, all the Samoans consider themselves

indigenous.[15] The Samoans and Tongans, says Mr. S. Percy Smith,

"formed part of the first migration into the Pacific, and they have

been there so long that they have forgotten their early history. All the

numerous legends as to their origin seem to express their own belief in

their being autochthones, created in the Samoan Islands."[16]

[14] Horatio Hale, _Ethnography and Philology of the

United States Exploring Expedition_ (Philadelphia, 1846), pp.

119 _sqq._; J. E. Erskine, _Journal of a Cruise among the

Islands of the Western Pacific_, pp. 102 _sq._; J. B. Stair,

_Old Samoa_, pp. 271 _sqq._ (compare _id._ p. 34 as to the

timber and canoe-building of Savaii); G. Brown, _Melanesians and

Polynesians_, pp. 358, 371 _sq._; A. C. Haddon, _The Wanderings

of Peoples_ (Cambridge, 1919), p. 36; A. H. Keane, _Man Past and

Present_ (Cambridge, 1920), p. 552. That the Samoan language,

alone of the Polynesian dialects, retains the S sound, is

affirmed by Ch. Wilkes (_Narrative of the United States

Exploring Expedition_, ii. 123). In some of the islands the name

of the ancient fatherland of the race (Hawaiki, etc.) has been

applied or transferred to the spirit-land to which the souls of

the dead are supposed to pass as their final abode. See S. Percy

Smith, _Hawaiki_, pp. 46 _sqq._; E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian

Comparative Dictionary_, pp. 56 _sqq._, _s.v._ "Hawaiki."

[15] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 360

_sq._ As to the Fijian colony in Savaii, compare T. H. Hood,

_Notes of a Cruise in H.M.S. "Fawn" in the Western Pacific_

(Edinburgh, 1863), pp. 117 _sq._

[16] S. Percy Smith, _Hawaiki_, pp. 114 _sq._

Sec. 2. _The Samoan Islanders, their character_

In spite of the many diseases prevalent among them, the Samoans are

commonly reckoned among the finest, as well as the purest, specimens of

the Polynesian race. Like the Tongans, whom they closely resemble, they

are generally tall and shapely, with full rounded faces and limbs, but

without that grossness and laxity of fibre common in the Tahitians. The

average height of the men is said to be five feet ten inches, but some

of them are over six feet with the thews and sinews of a Hercules. Their

features, though not always regular, are commonly pleasing; and in

particular the forehead is remarkable for its ample development, which,

with the breadth between the eyes, gives to the countenance an

expression of nobleness and dignity. Some of the young men especially

are models of manly beauty; we read of one who, having decked his hair

with the flowers of the scarlet hibiscus, might have sat for an

Antinous. The women are comely enough, but strikingly inferior to the

men in point of personal beauty. The prevailing colour is a light copper

or olive brown, but the shade varies a good deal, deepening somewhat in

fishermen and others who are much exposed to the sun; but it never

approaches the dark chocolate tint, or Vandyke brown, of the

Melanesians. Their hair is usually black and wavy, sometimes curly; but

hardly a vestige is to be seen among them of the crisped and woolly hair

and dusky complexion of the Melanesians, their neighbours on the

west.[17]

[17] Horatio Hale, _Ethnography and Philology of the

United States Exploring Expedition_, pp. 10 _sq._; Ch. Wilkes,

_Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, ii. 125

_sq._; J. E. Erskine, _Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of

the Western Pacific_, pp. 41, 51; C. E. Meinicke, _Die Inseln

des Stillen Oceans_ (Leipzig, 1875-1876), ii. 110 _sq._; G.

Turner, _Samoa_, p. 3; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 58; G.

Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 55 _sq._

The prepossessing appearance of the Samoans on the whole does not belie

their character. They are reputed to be the most refined and civilised

of all the native races of the Pacific, and this superiority is said to

manifest itself in their social and domestic life.[18] The Samoans, we

are told, are a nation of gentlemen and contrast most favourably with

the generality of the Europeans who come among them.[19] They are said

to carry their habits of cleanliness and decency to a higher point than

the most fastidious of civilised nations;[20] and the Samoan women

appear to be honourably distinguished by their modest behaviour and

fidelity in marriage, qualities which contrast with the profligacy of

their sex in other branches of the Polynesian race.[21] Equally

honourable to the men are the respect and kindness which, according to

the testimony of observers, they pay to their women, whom they are said

to regard as their equals.[22] The aged were treated with respect and

never abandoned; and strangers were always received in the best house

and provided with food specially prepared for them.[23] Infanticide,

which was carried to an appalling and almost incredible extent among

some of the Polynesians,[24] was unknown in Samoa; abortion, indeed, was

not uncommon, but once born children were affectionately cared for and

never killed or exposed.[25] Wives and slaves were never put to death at

a chief's burial, that their souls might attend their dead lord to the

spirit land[26], as was the practice in some of the other islands, even

in Tonga. Again, human sacrifices were not offered by the Samoans to the

gods within the time during which the islands have been under the

observation of Europeans; but in some of the more remote traditions

mention is made of such sacrifices offered to the sun. Thus it is said

that in the mythical island of Papatea, somewhere away in the east, the

sun used to call for two victims every day, one at his rising and

another at his setting. This lasted for eighty days. At such a rate of

consumption the population of the island was rapidly wasting away. To

escape the threatened doom, a brother and sister, named Luama and Ui,

fled from Papatea to Manua, the most easterly of the Samoan islands, but

they found to their consternation that there too, the sun was demanding

his daily victims. Every house had to supply a victim in succession,

and, when all had yielded the tribute, it came to the first house in

turn to renew the sacrifice. The victim was laid out on a pandanus tree,

and there the sun devoured him or her. When the lot fell on Luama, his

heroic sister Ui insisted on taking his place, and lying down, she

cried, "O cruel sun! come and eat your victim, we are all being devoured

by you." But the amorous sun fell in love with her and took her to wife,

at the same time putting an end to the human sacrifices. Another story

affirms that the heroine was a daughter of the King of Manua, and that

he yielded her up as an offering to the sun in order to end the

sacrifices by making her the saviour of the people.[27]

[18] S. Ella, "Samoa," _Report of the Fourth Meeting of

the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science,

held at Hobart, Tasmania, in January 1892_, p. 634.

[19] T. H. Hood, _Notes of a Cruise in H.M.S. "Fawn" in

the Western Pacific_ (Edinburgh, 1863), pp. 59 _sq._

[20] J. E. Erskine, _op. cit._ p. 110

[21] Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ ii. 125; J. E. Erskine,

_op. cit._ p. 110

[22] Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ ii. 148; Violette, " Notes

d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions

Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 156; J. L. Brenchley, _op. cit._ p.

77; S. Ella, _op. cit._ pp. 628 _sq._; G. Brown, _op. cit._ pp.

43, 410.

[23] G. Brown, _op. cit._ p. 410.

[24] For some evidence of the practice see John

Turnbull, _Voyage round the World_ (London, 1813), pp. 363

_sq._; C. S. Stewart, _Journal of a Residence in the Sandwich

Islands_ (London, 1828), pp. 251 _sqq._; P. Dillon, _Voyage in

the South Seas_ (London, 1829), ii. 134; William Ellis,

_Polynesian Researches_, Second Edition (London, 1832-1836), i.

248 _sqq._; J. Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in

the South Sea Islands_ (London, 1838), pp. 479-486. According to

Stewart, in those parts of Hawaii to which the influence of the

missionaries had not penetrated, two-thirds of the infants born

were murdered by their parents within the age of two years. In

Tahiti three women, questioned by Mr. Williams, acknowledged

that they had killed twenty-one of their children between them.

Another, at the point of death, confessed to him, in an anguish

of remorse, that she had destroyed sixteen of her children.

[25] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 79. Compare J. Williams,

_op. cit._ p. 479; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 621; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 47.

[26] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 219.

[27] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 201 _sq._ Compare G.

Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 230 _sq._; J.

Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea

Islands_, p. 471; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 210.

The Samoans, when they became known to Europe in the nineteenth century,

did not habitually indulge in cannibalism; indeed, according to John

Williams, one of the earliest missionaries to the islands, they spoke of

the practice with great horror and detestation.[28] But we have the

testimony of other early missionaries that in their wars they

occasionally resorted to it as a climax of hatred and revenge, devouring

some portion of an enemy who had rendered himself peculiarly obnoxious

by his cruelty or his provocations. Traditions, too, are on record of

chiefs who habitually killed and devoured their fellow-creatures. A form

of submission which a conquered party used to adopt towards their

conquerors has also been interpreted as a relic of an old custom of

cannibalism. Representatives of the vanquished party used to bow down

before the victors, each holding in his hands a piece of firewood and a

bundle of leaves, such as are used in dressing a pig for the oven. This

was as much as to say, "Kill us and cook us, if you please." Criminals,

too, were sometimes bound hand and foot, slung on a pole, and laid down

before the persons they had injured, like pigs about to be killed and

cooked. Combining these and other indications we may surmise that

cannibalism was formerly not infrequent among the ancestors of the

Samoans, though among their descendants in the nineteenth century the

practice had almost wholly died out.[29] It is further to the credit of

the Samoans that their public administration of justice was on the whole

mild and humane. Torture was never employed to wring the truth from

witnesses or the accused, and there seems to be only a single case on

record of capital punishment inflicted by judicial sentence. At the same

time private individuals were free to avenge the adultery of a wife or

the murder of a kinsman by killing the culprit, and no blame attached to

them for so doing. The penalties imposed by the sentence of a court or

judicial assembly (_fono_) included fines, banishment, and the

destruction of houses, fruit-trees, and domestic animals. But a criminal

might also be condemned by a court to suffer corporal punishment in one

form or another. He might, for example, be obliged to wound himself by

beating his head and chest with a stone till the blood flowed freely; if

he seemed to spare himself, he would be ordered by the assembled chiefs

to strike harder, and if he still faltered, the prompt and unsparing

application of a war club to his person effectually assisted the

execution of the sentence. Again, he might be condemned to bite a

certain acrid and poisonous root (called in the native language _tevi_)

which caused the mouth to swell and the culprit to suffer intense agony

for a considerable time afterwards. Or he might have to throw up a spiny

and poisonous fish into the air and to catch it in his naked hand as it

fell; the sharp-pointed spines entered into the flesh and inflicted

acute pain and suffering. Or he might be suspended by hands and feet

from a pole and in this attitude exposed to the broiling sun for many

hours together; or he might be hung by the feet, head downward, from the

top of a tall coco-nut tree and left there to expiate his crime for a

long time. For certain offences the culprit was condemned to have his

nose tattooed or his ears split. In sentences of banishment the term of

exile was never specified, but when the sentence had been pronounced in

full assembly, and the offence was great, the culprit might live in

exile for years. When the punishment consisted in the destruction of

houses, plantations, and live stock, it was immediately inflicted by the

whole force of the district, under the direction and superintendence of

the leading men, who had taken part in the assembly and passed the

sentence. A whole family might suffer in this way for the offence of one

of its members, and be driven into exile, after witnessing the burning

of their house, the killing of their pigs, and the barking of their

breadfruit trees.[30] If such penalties seem to us in some cases

needlessly severe, they at least testify to a strong sense of public

justice developed among the Samoans, who had thus advanced far enough to

transfer, in some measure, the redress of wrongs to judicial assemblies

instead of leaving it to the caprice of the injured individuals.

Nevertheless the transference was but imperfect: the administration of

justice was loose and irregular: for the most part every man was a law

to himself, and did what was right in his own eyes. An aggrieved party

would become his own judge, jury, and executioner. The thirst for

vengeance was slaked only by the blood of a victim.[31]

[28] J. Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises

in the South Sea Islands_, p. 456.

[29] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 108-111; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 149 _sq._, 290; J. E.

Erskine, _op. cit._ pp. 39, 101 _sq._; W. T. Pritchard,

_Polynesian Reminiscences_ (London, 1866), pp. 125 _sq._;

Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa,"

_Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 168; J. B. Stair,

_Old Samoa_, pp. 240 _sq._

[30] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 91 _sqq._; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 288-291. Compare Violette,

"Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions

Catholiques_, iii. (1870) pp. 119, 120.

[31] S. Ella, "Samoa," _Report of the Fourth Meeting of

the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science,

held at Hobart, Tasmania, in January 1892_, p. 633.

It is another sign of the intellectual enlightenment of the Samoans that

they rose apparently superior to that system of malignant magic, which

kept their neighbours the Melanesians in lifelong bondage. The

experienced missionary, Dr. George Brown, could not find in Samoa any

trace of the practice of that particular form of the black art with

which he was familiar in New Britain and other Melanesian islands, the

practice of procuring some object which has belonged to an enemy or been

touched by him, and taking it to a sorcerer, that he may perform over it

a ceremony for the purpose of injuring the person from whom the object

has been obtained. The proceeding is one of the commonest forms of

sympathetic magic, but the Samoans appear to have ignored or despised

it.[32] Again, the silence of our authorities on the subject of amulets

and talismans leaves us to infer that the Samoans were equally

indifferent to that branch of magic which seeks to ensure the safety and

prosperity of the individual by attaching a miscellaneous collection of

rubbish to his person, a system of ensurance against evil and misfortune

which has attained a prodigious development among some savages, notably

in Africa,[33] and is very far from being unknown in Europe at the

present day. Again, unlike most savages, the Samoans were close

observers of the stars, not only reckoning the time of night by the

rising of particular stars, but steering by them when they were out of

sight of land.[34]

[32] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 245.

Compare S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 638.

[33] See, for example, E. W. Smith and A. M. Dale, _The

Ila-speaking Peoples of Northern Rhodesia_ (London, 1920), i.

252 _sqq._

[34] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 348.

Against these amiable and enlightened traits in the Samoan character

must be set their cruelty in war. If they opened hostilities with a

great deal of formal politeness, they conducted them with great

ferocity. No quarter was given to men in battle, and captives were

ruthlessly slaughtered. Women were sometimes spared for the use of their

captors. Nor did death save the conquered from the insults and outrages

of the insolent victors. The slain on the battlefield were treated with

great indignity. Their heads were cut off and carried in triumph to the

village, where they were piled up in a heap in the place of public

assembly, the head of the most important chief being given the place of

honour on the top of the pile. However, they were not kept as trophies,

but after remaining for some hours exposed to public gaze were either

claimed by the relatives or buried on the spot. The headless trunks were

given to children to drag about the village and to spear, stone, or

mutilate at pleasure.[35] The first missionary to Samoa was told in

Manua that the victors used to scalp their victims and present the

scalps, with kava, either to the king or to the relatives of the slain

in battle, by whom these gory trophies were highly prized. He mentions

as an example the case of a young woman, whose father had been killed. A

scalp of a foe having been brought to her, she burnt it, strewed the

ashes on the fire with which she cooked her food, and then devoured the

meat with savage satisfaction.[36] But the climax of cruelty and horror

was reached in a great war which the people of A'ana, in Upolu, waged

against a powerful combination of enemies. After a brave resistance they

were at last defeated, and the surviving warriors, together with the

aged and infirm, the women and children, fled to the mountains, where

they endeavoured to hide themselves from their pursuers in the caves and

the depths of the forest. But they were hunted out and brought down to

the seashore; and an immense pit having been dug and filled with

firewood, they were all, men, women, and children, thrown into it and

burnt alive. The dreadful butchery went on for days. Four hundred

victims are said to have perished. The massacre was perpetrated at the

moment when the first missionaries were landing in Samoa. From the

opposite shore they beheld the mountains enveloped in the flames and

smoke of the funeral pile. The decisive battle had been fought that

very morning. For many years a great black circle of charcoal marked the

scene and preserved the memory of the fatal transaction.[37]

[35] J. Williams, _op. cit._ p. 456; Ch. Wilkes, _op.

cit._ ii. 150 _sq._; W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian

Reminiscences_, p. 61; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 247 _sqq._;

G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 170, 172 _sq._ Dr.

Brown here speaks as if captive women were regularly spared and

married by the victors. As to the elaborate civilities which

passed between the vanguards of two hostile armies at their

first meeting, see Dr. Brown, _op. cit._ pp. 166 _sq._

[36] J. Williams, _op. cit._ p. 458.

[37] J. Williams, _op. cit._ pp. 286 _sq._, 456; J. B.

Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 254-258.

Sec. 3. _Houses, Agriculture, and Industries_

Like all the Polynesians, the Samoans are not nomadic, but live in

settled villages. The typical Samoan house is commonly described as oval

or elliptical, though in fact it would seem to be of oblong shape with

semicircular ends. But many houses were circular in shape, and with

their conical thatched roofs resembled gigantic beehives. From the

Tongans the Samoans also borrowed the custom of building oblong

quadrangular houses, which were called _afolau_. The best houses, in

particular those of important chiefs, were built on raised platforms of

stones about three feet high. One of the circular houses would measure

about thirty-five feet in diameter by a hundred in circumference. Two or

three posts in the centre of the house, some twenty feet high, supported

the roof, the lower end of which rested on a series of short posts, four

or five feet high, placed at intervals of about four feet all round the

house. The intervals between these posts were sometimes closed by thatch

neatly tied to sticks, which were planted upright in the ground and

fastened to the eaves; but more commonly, it would seem, the intervals

between the posts were left open and only closed at night by blinds made

of coco-nut leaves, which could be let down or pulled up like Venetian

blinds. During the day these blinds were drawn up, so that there was a

free current of air all through the house. The roofs of the best houses

were made of bread-fruit wood carefully thatched with leaves of the wild

sugar-cane; when well made, the thatch might last seven years. The

circular roofs were so constructed that they could be lifted clean off

the posts and removed anywhere, either by land or on a raft of canoes.

The whole house could also be transported; and as Samoan houses were

often bartered, or given as presents, or paid as fines, it frequently

happened that they were removed from place to place. In the whole house

there was not a single nail or spike: all joints were made by exactly

corresponding notches and secured by cinnet, that is cordage made from

the dried fibre of the coco-nut husk. The timber of the best houses was

the wood of the bread-fruit tree; and, if protected against damp, it

would last fifty years. The floor of the house was composed of stones,

overlaid with fine gravel and sand. In the centre of the floor was the

fire-place, a circular hollow two or three feet in diameter and a few

inches deep, lined with hardened clay. It was not used for cooking, but

for the purpose of lighting up the house by night. The cooking was never

done in the house, but always in the open air outside on an oven of hot

stones. An ordinary Samoan house consisted of a single apartment, which

served as the common parlour, dining-room, and bedroom of the family.

But at night small tents made of bark-cloth were hung from the

ridge-pole, and under them the various members of the family slept

separately, the tents serving them at the same time as curtains to

protect them against the mosquitoes. Formerly, the houses of the

principal chiefs were surrounded with two fences; the outer of the two

was formed of strong posts and had a narrow zigzag entrance, several

yards long, leading to an opening in the inner fence, which was made of

reeds. But with the advent of a more peaceful epoch these fortified

enclosures for the most part disappeared. Houses constructed on the

Tongan model were often very substantially built: a double row of posts

and cross-beams supported the roof. These houses were found better able

to resist the high winds which prevail at one season of the year.[38]

[38] Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._. ii. 145 _sqq._; J. E.

Erskine, _op. cit._ pp. 45-47; T. H. Hood, _Notes of a Cruise in

H.M.S. "Fawn" in the Western Pacific_ (Edinburgh, 1863), p. 32;

Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa,"

_Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 135; G. Turner,

_Samoa_, pp. 152 _sqq._; S. Ella, _op. cit._ pp. 634 _sq._; J.

B. Stair, _Old Samoa,_ pp. 105 _sqq._, 153 _sqq._; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 24 _sqq._

Like the rest of the Polynesians, the Samoans are an agricultural

people, and subsist mainly by the fruits of the earth, though the

lagoons and reefs furnish them with a large supply of fish and

shell-fish, of which they are very fond. They all, but especially

persons of rank, occasionally regaled themselves on pigs, fowls, and

turtle. But bread-fruit, taro, yams, bananas, and coco-nuts formed the

staff of life in Samoa. As the soil is very rich and the hot, damp

climate is eminently favourable to the growth of vegetation, food was

always abundant, and the natives could procure the necessaries and even

the luxuries of life at the cost of very little labour; if they tilled

the soil, it was rather to vary their diet than to wring a scanty

subsistence from a niggardly nature. Coco-nut palms, bread-fruit and

chestnut trees, and wild yams, bananas, and plantains abound throughout

the islands, and require little attention to make them yield an ample

crop. For about half the year the Samoans have a plentiful supply of

food from the bread-fruit trees: during the other half they depend

principally upon their taro plantations. While the bread-fruit is in

season, every family lays up a quantity of the ripe fruit in a pit lined

with leaves and covered with stones. The fruit soon ferments and forms a

soft mass, which emits a very vile smell every time the pit is opened.

In this state it may be kept for years, for the older and more rotten

the fruit is, the better the natives like it. They bake it, with the

juice of the coco-nut, into flat cakes, which are eaten when the ripe

fruit is out of season or when taro is scarce. For taro is on the whole

the staple food of the Samoans; it grows all the year round. The water

of the coco-nut furnishes a cool, delicious, slightly effervescing

beverage, which is peculiarly welcome to the hot and weary wayfarer far

from any spring or rivulet.[39]

[39] Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ ii. 147; W. T. Pritchard,

_Polynesian Reminiscences_ (London, 1866), pp. 126-128;

Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa,"

_Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) pp. 87 _sq._; G. Turner,

_Samoa_, pp. 105-107; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 53-55; G.

Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 130 _sqq._ According

to Dr. Brown, there are generally three crops of bread-fruit in

the year, one of them lasting about three months.

To obtain land for cultivation the Samoans went into the forest and cut

down the brushwood and creeping vines with small hatchets or large

knives. The large forest-trees they destroyed by chopping away the bark

in a circle round the trunk and then kindling a fire of brushwood at the

foot of the tree. Thus in the course of a few days a fair-sized piece of

ground would be cleared, nothing of the forest remaining but charred

trunks and leafless branches. Then followed the planting. The

agricultural instruments employed were of the simplest pattern. A

dibble, or pointed stick of hard wood, was used to make the hole in

which the plant was deposited. This took the place of a plough, and a

branch served the purpose of a harrow. Sometimes the earth was dug and

smoothed with the blade of a canoe paddle. The labour of clearing and

planting the ground was done by the men, but the task of weeding it

generally devolved on the women. The first crop taken from a piece of

land newly cleared in the forest was yams, which require a peculiar

culture and frequent change of site, two successive crops being seldom

obtained from the same land. After the first crop of yams had been

cleared off, taro was planted several times in succession; for this root

does not, like yams, require a change of site. However, we are told that

a second crop of taro grown on the same land was very inferior to the

first, and that as a rule the land was allowed to remain fallow until

the trees growing on it were as thick as a man's arm, when it was again

cleared for cultivation. In the wet season taro was planted on the high

land from one to four miles inland from the village; other kinds of taro

were planted in the swamps, and these were considered more succulent

than the taro grown on the uplands. The growing crops of taro were

weeded at least twice a year. The natives resorted to irrigation, when

they had the means; and they often dug trenches to drain away the water

from swampy ground. Yams also required attention; for sticks had to be

provided on which the plants could run. The fruit ripens only once a

year, but it was stored up, and with care would keep till the next

season. The natives found neither yams nor bread-fruit so nourishing as

taro.[40]

[40] Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel

de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 188; S.

Ella, _op. cit._ p. 635; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 54 _sq._;

G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 130 _sqq._, 338

_sqq._

The degree of progress which any particular community has made in

civilisation may be fairly gauged by the degree of subdivision of labour

among its members; for it is only by restricting his energies to a

particular craft that a man can attain to any perfection in it. Judged

by this standard the Samoans had advanced some way on the road to

civilisation, since among them the division of labour was carried out to

a considerable extent: in their native state they had not a few separate

trades or professions, some of which may even be said to have developed

the stability and organisation of trade guilds. Among them, for example,

house-building, canoe-building, tattooing, and the making of nets and

fish-hooks were distinct crafts, which, though not strictly hereditary,

were usually confined to particular families. Thus by long practice and

experience handed down from generation to generation a considerable

degree of skill was acquired, and a considerable degree of reputation

accrued to the family. Every trade had its particular patron god and was

governed by certain well-known rules. The members formed, indeed, we are

told, a trade union which was remarkably effective. Thus they had rules

which prescribed the time and proportions of payment to be made at

different stages of the work, and these rules were strictly observed and

enforced by the workmen. For example, in the house-building trade, it

was a standing custom that after the sides and one end of a house were

finished, the principal part of the payment should be made. If the

carpenters were dissatisfied with the amount of payment, they simply

left off work and walked away, leaving the house unfinished, and no

carpenter in the whole length and breadth of Samoa would dare to finish

it, for it would have been as much as his business or even his life was

worth to undertake the job. Anyone so foolhardy as thus to set the rules

of the trade at defiance would have been attacked by the other workmen

and robbed of his tools; at the best he would receive a severe

thrashing, at the worst he might be killed. A house might thus stand

unfinished for months or even years. Sooner or later, if he was to have

a roof over his head, the unfortunate owner had to yield to the trade

union and agree to such terms as they might dictate. If it happened that

the house was almost finished before the fourth and final payment was

made, and the builder at that stage of the proceedings took offence, he

would remove a beam from the roof before retiring in dudgeon, and no

workman would dare to replace it. The rules in the other trades, such

as canoe-building and tattooing, were practically the same. In

canoe-building, for example, five separate payments were made to the

builders at five stages of the work; and if at any stage the workmen

were dissatisfied with the pay, they very unceremoniously abandoned the

work until the employer apologised or came to terms. No other party of

workmen would have the temerity to finish the abandoned canoe upon pain

of bringing down on their heads the wrath of the whole fraternity of

canoe-builders; any such rash offenders against the rules of the guild

would be robbed of their tools, expelled from their clan, and prohibited

from exercising their calling during the pleasure of the guild. Such

strides had the Samoans made in the direction of trade unionism.[41]

[41] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 157 _sqq._, 162 _sqq._; J.

B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 141 _sqq._, 145 _sqq._, 153 _sqq._,

157 _sqq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 268,

305-308. Compare Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ ii. 143 _sqq._;

Violette, _op. cit._ pp. 134 _sq._; S. Ella, _op. cit._ pp. 635

_sq._

In addition to their household duties women engaged in special work of

their own, particularly in the manufacture of bark-cloths and of fine

mats; but among them there seems to have been no subdivision of labour

and consequently no professional guilds. In all families the making of

bark-cloth and mats was carried on by the women indifferently, though

some no doubt excelled others in the skill of their handiwork. The cloth

was made from the bark of the paper-mulberry (_Morus papyrifera_), which

was beaten out on boards with a grooved beetle. The sound of these

beetles ringing on the boards, though not very musical, was a familiar

sound in a Samoan village. The fine mats, on the manufacture of which

the Samoans particularly prided themselves, were worn as dresses on

ceremonial occasions. They were made from the leaves of a large plant

which the natives call _lau ie_; the leaves closely resemble those of

the pandanus, but are larger. These mats were of a straw or cream

colour, and were sometimes fringed with tufts of scarlet feathers of the

paroquet. They were thin and almost as flexible as calico. Many months,

sometimes even years, were spent over the making of a single mat.

Another kind of fine mat was made from the bark of a plant of the nettle

tribe (_Hibiscus tiliaceus_), which grows wild over the islands. Mats

of the latter sort were shaggy on one side, and, being bleached white,

resembled fleecy sheep-skins. These fine mats, especially those made

from the leaves of the pandanus-like plant, were considered by the

Samoans to be their most valuable property; they were handed down as

heirlooms from father to son, and were so much coveted that wars were

sometimes waged to obtain possession of them. The pedigrees of the more

famous mats, particularly those fringed with red feathers, were

carefully kept, and when they changed hands, their history was related

with solemn precision. Age enhanced their value; and their tattered

condition, deemed a proof of antiquity, rather added to than detracted

from the estimation in which they were held. The wealth of a family

consisted of its mats; with them it remunerated the services of

carpenters, boat-builders, and tattooers. The mats formed, indeed, a

sort of currency or medium of exchange; for while the Samoans were not

in general a trading people, and there was little or no actual buying

and selling among them, there was nevertheless a considerable exchange

of property on many occasions; at marriage, for example, it was

customary for the bride's family to give mats and bark-cloth as her

dowry, while the bridegroom's family provided a house, canoes, and other

articles. But though the fine mats were thus paid away or given in

exchange, they had no fixed negotiable value, and thus did not serve the

purpose of money.[42]

[42] Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States

Exploring Expedition_, ii. 142 _sq._; J. E. Erskine, _Journal of

a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific_, pp. 109

_sq._; W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 129-132;

Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa,"

_Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 135; G. Turner,

_Samoa_, pp. 119-121; S. Ella, "Samoa," _Report of the Fourth

Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of

Science, held at Hobart, Tasmania, in January 1892_, p. 636; J.

B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 143 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and

Polynesians_, pp. 304 _sq._, 305, 315, 434.

Sec. 4. _Rights of Property_

In Samoa the rights of private property, both personal and landed, were

fully recognised, but with certain limitations. The lands were owned

alike by chiefs and by heads of families; the laws regulating their

possession were very definite. In no case did the whole of the land

belong to the chiefs. Every family owned portions of land not only in

the village and adjoining gardens, but far away in the unreclaimed

forests of the interior. The title, which passed by inheritance,

generally vested in the family; but the family was represented by the

head, who often claimed the right to dispose of it by sale or otherwise.

Yet he dared not do anything without consulting all concerned; were he

to persist in thwarting the wishes of the rest, they would take his

title from him and give it to another. Sometimes, however, the title to

landed property vested in individual owners. The legitimate heir was the

oldest surviving brother, but occasionally he waived his right in favour

of one of the sons. Women might hold land when the male side of a family

was extinct. The boundaries of land were well defined, being marked by

pathways, natural limits, such as a river, or by trenches and stones

half buried in the ground. Every inch of ground had its owner, even to

the tops of the mountains. Trespass by a neighbouring village would be

resisted, if necessary, by force of arms.[43]

[43] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 176 _sq._; J. B. Stair,

_Old Samoa_, pp. 83 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and

Polynesians_, pp. 287 _sq._, 314, 339.

In regard to personal property it may be said that, like landed

property, it belonged rather to the family than to the individual; for

no Samoan could refuse to give, without an equivalent, anything which

any member of his family asked for. In this way boats, tools, garments,

and so forth passed freely from hand to hand. Nay, a man could enter the

plantation of a relative and help himself to the fruit without asking

the owner's leave; such an appropriation was not considered to be

stealing. Under this communistic system, as it has been called,

accumulation of property was scarcely possible, and industry was

discouraged. Why should a diligent man toil when he knew that the fruit

of his labour might all be consumed by lazy kinsfolk? He might lay out a

plantation of bananas, and when they were full-grown, bunch after bunch

might be plucked and eaten by his less industrious relations, until,

exasperated beyond endurance, the unfortunate owner would cut down all

the remaining trees. No matter how hard a man worked, he could not keep

his earnings; they all soon passed out of his hands into the common

stock of the clan. The system, we are told, ate like a canker-worm at

the roots of individual and national progress.[44]

[44] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 160 _sq._; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 247, 262 _sq._, 434.

Sec. 5. _Government, Social Ranks, Respect for Chiefs_

The native government of Samoa was not, like that of Tonga, a

centralised despotism. Under the form of a monarchy and aristocracy the

political constitution was fundamentally republican and indeed

democratic. The authority of the king and chiefs was limited and more or

less nominal; practically Samoa consisted of a large number of petty

independent and self-governing communities, which sometimes combined for

defence or common action in a sort of loose federation.[45]

[45] J. Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises

in the South Sea Islands_, p. 454; H. Hale, _Ethnography and

Philology of the United States Exploring Expedition_, p. 29; T.

H. Hood, _Notes of a Cruise in H.M.S. "Fawn" in the Western

Pacific_ (Edinburgh, 1863), p. 118; G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 173;

S. Ella, "Samoa," _Report of the Fourth Meeting of the

Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, held at

Hobart, Tasmania, in January 1892_, p. 631; J. B. Stair, _Old

Samoa_, pp. 83 _sq._, 89; G. Brown, _Melanesians and

Polynesians_, p. 333.

To a superficial observer the aristocratic cast of Samoan society might

at first sight seem very marked. The social ranks were sharply divided

from each other, and the inferior orders paid great formal deference to

their superiors. At the head of all ranked the chiefs (_alii_); but even

among them the ordinary chiefs were distinct from the sacred chiefs

(_alii paia_), who enjoyed the highest honours. These sacred chiefs

preserved their pedigrees for twenty or more generations with as great

care as the oldest and proudest families in Europe, and they possessed

many feudal rights and privileges which were as well known and as fully

acknowledged as are, or were, those of any lord of a manor in England.

The task of preserving a record of a chief's pedigrees was entrusted to

his orator or spokesman, who belonged to a lower social rank (that of

the _tulafales_).[46] The influence of chiefs was supported by the

belief that they possessed some magical or supernatural power, by which

they could enforce their decisions.[47] Their persons were sacred or

taboo. They might not be touched by any one. No one might sit beside

them. In the public assemblies a vacant place was left on each side of

the seat of honour which they occupied. Some chiefs were so holy that

they might not even be looked at by day. Their food might not be handed

to them, but was thrown to them, and it was so sacred that no one might

eat any of it which they had left over.[48]

[46] H. Hale, _op. cit._ p. 28; Violette, _op. cit._ p.

168; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 173 _sqq._; J. B. Stair, _Old

Samoa_, pp. 65 _sqq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_,

pp. 283, 430.

[47] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 431.

[48] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 280,

283, 285; Violette, _op. cit._ p. 168 (as to chiefs too holy to

be seen by day).

"The sacredness attributed to many chiefs of high rank gave rise to

observances which were irksome to their families and dependents, since

whatever they came in contact with required to undergo the ceremony of

_lulu'u_, or sprinkling with a particular kind of cocoanut-water

(_niu-ui_); both to remove the sanctity supposed to be communicated to

the article or place that had touched the chief, and also to counteract

the danger of speedy death, which was believed to be imminent to any

person who might touch the sacred chief, or anything that he had

touched; so great was the mantle of sanctity thrown around these chiefs,

although unconnected with the priesthood. Thus the spot where such a

chief had sat or slept was sprinkled with water immediately he had left

it, as were also the persons who had sat on either side of him when he

received company, as well as all the attendants who had waited upon him.

"This remarkable custom was also observed on other occasions. It was

always used on the occasion of deposing a chief, and depriving him of

his _Ao_, or titles, in which case the ceremony was performed by some of

those who had either conferred the titles or had the power to do so. In

the case of O le Tamafainga, the usurper who was killed in A'ana in

1829, his body was first sprinkled with cocoanut-water, and his title of

_O le Tuia'ana_ recalled from him, before he was hewn in pieces. The

ceremony consisted of sprinkling the body with cocoanut-water, and the

officiating chief or _Tulafale_ saying, 'Give us back our _Ao_,' by

which means the title was recalled, and the sacredness attaching to it

was dispelled. It was also used over persons newly tattooed, and upon

those who contaminated themselves by contact with a dead body. In each

of these cases the ceremony was carefully observed, and reverently

attended to, as very dire consequences were considered certain to follow

its omission."[49] Thus the sacredness of a chief was deemed dangerous

to all persons with whom he might come, whether directly or indirectly,

into contact; it was apparently conceived as a sort of electric fluid

which discharged itself, it might be with fatal effect, on whatever it

touched. And the sacredness of a chief was clearly classed with the

uncleanness of a dead body, since contact with a dead body involved the

same dangerous consequences as contact with the sacred person of a chief

and had to be remedied in precisely the same manner. The two conceptions

of holiness and uncleanness, which to us seem opposite and even

contradictory, blend in the idea of taboo, in which both are implicitly

held as it were in solution. It requires the analytic tendency of more

advanced thought to distinguish the two conceptions, to precipitate, as

it were, the components of the solution in the testing-tube of the mind.

[49] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 127 _sq._ Compare

Violette, _op. cit._ p. 168; G. Brown, _Melanesians and

Polynesians_, pp. 231, 280, 285. In this work Dr. Brown remarks

(p. 231) that there is no clear explanation of the custom of

sprinkling coco-nut water as a purificatory rite. But the

explanation given by Stair, which I have quoted in the text, is

clear and satisfactory, and elsewhere (p. 285) Dr. Brown

implicitly adopts the same explanation, where he says that the

man who had served kava to a sacred chief "sprinkled himself all

over to wash away the sacredness (_paia_)."

The profound respect which the Samoans entertained for their chiefs

manifested itself in yet another fashion. A special form of speech was

adopted in addressing a chief, in conversing in his presence, or even in

alluding to him in his absence. Thus there arose what is called a

chiefs' language, or polite diction, which was used exclusively in

speaking to or of a chief, whether the speaker was a common man or a

chief of lower rank. But it was never used by a chief when he was

speaking of himself. Persons of high rank, in addressing others and

alluding to themselves, always employed ordinary language and sometimes

the very lowest terms; so that it was often amusing to listen to

expressions of feigned humility uttered by a proud man, who would have

been indignant indeed if the same terms which he applied to himself had

been applied to him by others. Thus, for example, the actions of

sitting, talking, eating, sleeping, and dying were expressed by

different terms according as the agent was a chief or a common man. The

ordinary word for a house was _fale_; but a chief's house was called

_maota_. The common word for anger was _ita_; the polite term was

_toasa_. To sleep in ordinary language was _moe_, but in polite language

it was _tof[=a]_ or _toa_. To be sick in common speech was _mai_, but in

polite language it was _ngasengase, faatafa, pulu pulusi_. To die was

_mate_ or _pe_ (said of animals), or _oti_ (said of men); but the

courtly expressions for death were _maliu_ ("gone"), _folau_ ("gone on a

voyage"), _fale-lauasi, ngasololo ao_, and a number of others. The terms

substituted in the court language sometimes had a meaning the very

opposite of that borne by the corresponding terms in the ordinary

language. For example, in the court language firewood was called

_polata_, which properly means the stem of the banana plant, a wood that

is incombustible. If the use of an ordinary word in the presence of a

chief were unavoidable, it had to be prefaced by the apologetic phrase

_veaeane_, literally "saving your presence," every time the word was

spoken. Nay, the courtly language itself varied with the rank of the

chief addressed or alluded to. For example, if you wished to say that a

person had come, you would say _alu_ of a common man; _alala_ of a head

of a household or landowner (_tulafale_); _maliu_ of a petty chief;

_susu_ of a chief of the second class; and _afiu_ of a chief of the

highest rank.[50] The same respect which was shown in the use of words

descriptive of a chief's actions or possessions was naturally extended

to his own name, when he belonged to the class of sacred chiefs. If his

name happened to be also the name of a common object, it ceased to be

used to designate the thing in question, and a new word or phrase was

substituted for it. Henceforth the old name of the object was dropped

and might never again be pronounced in the chief's district nor indeed

anywhere in his presence. In one district, for example, the chief's name

was Flying-fox; hence the ordinary word for flying-fox (_re'a_) was

dropped, and that species of bat was known as "bird of heaven" (_manu

langi_).[51] Again, when the chief of Pango-pango, in the island of

Tutuila, was called Maunga, which means "mountain," that word might

never be used in his presence, and a courtly term was substituted for

it.[52] This is only one instance of the ways in which the dialects of

savages tend to vary from each other under the influence of

superstition.

[50] H. Hale, _Ethnography and Philology of the United

States Exploring Expedition_, pp. 28 _sq._; Violette, "Notes

d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions

Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 190; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp.

67 _sqq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 380

_sq._ Compare G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 175.

[51] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 280,

381.

[52] J. E. Erskine, _Journal of a Cruise among the

Islands of the Western Pacific_, p. 44.

Yet despite the extraordinary deference thus paid to chiefs in outward

show, the authority which they possessed was for the most part very

limited; indeed in the ordinary affairs of life the powers and

privileges of a chief were little more than nominal, and he moved about

among the people and shared their everyday employments just like a

common man. Thus, for example, he would go out with a fishing party,

work in his plantation, help at building a house or a canoe, and even

lend a hand in cooking at a native oven. So strong was the democratic

spirit among the Samoans. The ordinary duties of a chief consisted in

administering the law, settling disputes, punishing transgressors,

appointing feasts, imposing taboos, and leading his people in war. It

was in time of war that a chief's dignity and authority were at their

highest, but even then he could hardly maintain strict discipline.[53]

However, the influence of chiefs varied a good deal and depended in

great measure on their personal character. If besides his hereditary

rank a chief was a man of energy and ability, he might become

practically supreme in his village or district. Some chiefs even used

their power in a very tyrannical manner.[54]

[53] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 174 _sq._; S. Ella,

"Samoa," _Report of the Fourth Meeting of the Australasian

Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Hobart,

Tasmania, in January 1892_, pp. 631 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old

Samoa_, p. 70; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 286.

[54] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 70; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 286.

But for the abuse of power by their nominal rulers the Samoans had a

remedy at hand. When a chief rendered himself odious to his people by

tyranny and oppression, the householders or gentry (_tulafales_) and

neighbouring chiefs would not uncommonly depose him and transfer his

office to another; in extreme cases they might banish him or even put

him to death. The place of banishment for exiled chiefs was the island

of Tutuila. Thither the fallen potentate was conveyed under custody in a

canoe, and on landing he was made to run the gauntlet between two rows

of the inhabitants, who belaboured him with sticks, pelted him with

stones, or subjected him to other indignities. He was lucky if he

escaped with nothing worse than bruises, for sometimes the injuries

inflicted were severe or actually fatal.[55] Chieftainship was

hereditary in the male line, but did not necessarily pass from father

to son; the usual heir would seem to have been the eldest surviving

brother, and next to him one of the sons. But a dying chief might

nominate his successor, though the final decision rested with the heads

of families. Failing a male heir, a daughter might be appointed to, or

might assume, the prerogative of chieftainship.[56]

[55] J. Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises

in the South Sea Islands_, p. 454; H. Hale, _Ethnography and

Philology of the United States Exploring Expedition_, p. 28;

Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa,"

_Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 119; G. Turner,

_Samoa_, p. 177; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 71 _sqq._

[56] Violette, _op. cit._ p. 119; G. Turner, _Samoa_,

p. 174; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 631; G. Brown, _Melanesians and

Polynesians_, pp. 282, 286, 430.

In addition to their hereditary nobility chiefs might be raised to

higher rank by the possession of titles (_ao_), which were in the gift

of certain ruling towns or villages. When four or, according to another

account, five of these titles were conferred upon a single chief, he was

called _o le tupu_, or King of Samoa. But if the constituencies were not

unanimous in their choice of a candidate, the throne might remain vacant

for long periods. Thus the monarchy of Samoa was elective; the king was

chosen by a hereditary aristocracy, and his powers were tempered by the

rights and privileges of the nobility. Yet under the show of a limited

monarchy the constitution was essentially a federal republic.[57] The

ceremony of anointing a King of Samoa in ancient times appears to have

curiously resembled a similar solemnity in monarchical Europe. It took

place in presence of a large assembly of chiefs and people. A sacred

stone was consecrated as a throne, or rather stool, on which the king

stood, while a priest, who must also be a chief, called upon the gods to

behold and bless the king, and pronounced denunciations against such as

should fail to obey him. He then poured scented oil from a native bottle

over the head, shoulders, and body of the king, and proclaimed his

several titles and honours.[58]

[57] Violette, _op. cit._ pp. 118 _sq._; J. B. Stair,

_Old Samoa_, pp. 65 _sqq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and

Polynesians_, p. 283. Compare H. Hale, _Ethnography and

Philology of the United States Exploring Expedition_, p. 29.

[58] S. Ella, "Samoa," _Report of the Fourth Meeting of

the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science,

held at Hobart, Tasmania, in January 1892_, p. 631.

Next below the chiefs ranked an inferior order of nobility called

_tulafales_ or _faipules_, who are variously described as householders,

councillors, and secondary chiefs. They formed a very powerful and

influential class; indeed we are told that they generally exercised

greater authority than the chiefs, and that the real control of

districts often centred in their hands. They usually owned large lands:

they were the principal advisers of the chiefs: the orators were usually

selected from their number: the _ao_ or titles of districts were always

in their gift; and they had the power, which they did not scruple to

use, of deposing and banishing an unpopular chief. Sometimes a chief

contrived to bring them into subjection to himself; but as a rule they

were a sturdy class, who did not shrink from speaking out their minds

to their social superiors, often uttering very unpalatable truths and

acting with great determination when the conduct of a chief incurred

their displeasure. In short, they made laws, levied fines, and generally

ruled the village.[59]

[59] H. Hale, _op. cit._ p. 28; Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._

ii. 152; Violette, _op. cit._ p. 119; S. Ella, _op. cit._

p. 629; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 70 _sq._; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 285 _sq._, 287.

Below the _tulafales_ ranked the _faleupolu_ or House of Upolu, and the

_tangata nuu_ or Men of the Land. The former were considerable

landowners and possessed much influence; the latter were the humblest

class, bearing arms in time of war, and cultivating the soil, fishing,

and cooking in time of peace. But they were far from being serfs; most

of them were eligible for the position of head of a family, if, when a

vacancy occurred, the choice of the family fell upon them.[60] For the

title of head of a family was not hereditary. A son might succeed his

father in the dignity; but the members of the family would sometimes

pass over the son and confer the title on an uncle, a cousin, or even a

perfect stranger, if they desired to increase the numerical strength of

the family.[61]

[60] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 74 _sq._; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 432.

[61] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 173.

The villages of the Samoans were practically self-governing and

independent communities, though every village was more or less loosely

federated with the other villages of its district. Each district or

confederation of villages had its capital (_laumua_) or ruling town.

These federal capitals, however, possessed no absolute authority over

the other villages of the district; and though great respect was always

shown to them, the people of the district, or even of a particular

village, would often dissent from the decisions of the capital and

assert their independence of action.[62] Of this independence a notable

instance occurred when the Catholic missionaries first settled in Samoa.

Under the influence of the Protestant missionaries a federal assembly

had passed a decree strictly forbidding the admission of Roman Catholics

to the islands, and threatening with war any community that should dare

to harbour the obnoxious sect. The better to enforce the decree, prayers

were publicly offered up in the chapels that God would be pleased to

keep all Papists out of Samoa. To these charitable petitions the deity

seems to have turned a deaf ear; for, in spite of prayers and

prohibitions, two Catholic priests and a lay brother landed and were

hospitably received and effectually protected by the people of a

village, who paid no heed either to the remonstrances of the chiefs or

to the thunders of the federal assembly.[63]

[62] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 180; G. Brown, _Melanesians

and Polynesians_, p. 333.

[63] Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel

de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) pp. 119

_sq._

The population of a village might be from two to five hundred persons,

and there might be eight or ten villages in a district. Throughout the

Samoan islands there were in all eight of these separate districts. The

union of the villages in a district was voluntary; they formed by common

consent a petty state for their mutual protection. When war was

threatened by another district, no single village acted alone; the whole

district, or state, assembled at their capital and held a special

parliament to concert the measures to be taken.[64] The boundaries of

the districts were well known and zealously guarded, if necessary, by

force of arms against the aggression of a neighbouring state. The

wardenship of the marches was committed to the two nearest villages on

either side, the inhabitants of which were called Boundary-Keepers.

Between two such villages in former days mutual ill-feeling constantly

existed and border feuds were frequent.[65]

[64] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 173, 180 _sq._ A third

local division, intermediate between the village and the

district, is mentioned by Stair, who calls it a settlement (_Old

Samoa_, p. 83); but the other authorities whom I have consulted

appear not to recognise such an intermediate division.

[65] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 83.

The form of government both of the village and of the district was

parliamentary. Affairs were discussed and settled in a representative

assembly (_fono_), composed of the leading men of each village or

district. These representatives included the chiefs, together with the

householders or landowners (_tulafales_) and the inferior gentry (the

_faleupolu_). The more weighty affairs, such as declaring war or making

peace, or any matters of importance which concerned the whole district,

were debated in the general parliament of the district, while business

of purely local interest was transacted in the parliament of the

village. It was the privilege of the capital to convene the district

parliament, to preside over its deliberations, to settle disputed

points, to sum up the proceedings, and to dismiss the assembly. These

meetings were usually conducted with much formality and decorum. They

were always held in the large public place (_malae_ or _marae_) of the

village or town. It was an open green spot surrounded by a circle of

trees and houses. The centre was occupied by a large house which

belonged to the chief and was set apart as a caravansary for the

entertainment of strangers and visitors. Members of all the three orders

which composed the parliament had the right to address it; but the

speaking was usually left to the householders or landowners

(_tulafales_). Each chief had generally attached to him one of that

order who acted as his mouthpiece; and in like manner each settlement

retained the services of a member of the order, who was the leading

orator of the district. Decisions were reached not by voting but by

general consent, the discussion being prolonged until some conclusion,

satisfactory to the greater part of the members, and particularly to the

most influential, was arrived at. One of the principal prerogatives of

the king seems to have been that of convoking a parliament; though, if

he refused to do so, when circumstances seemed to require it, the

assembly would undoubtedly have met without him. The functions of these

assemblies were judicial as well as legislative and deliberative.

Offenders were arraigned before them and, if found guilty, were

condemned and punished.[66]

[66] H. Hale, _Ethnography and Philology of the United

States Exploring Expedition_, p. 29; Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of

the United States Exploring Expedition_, ii. 153 _sq._;

Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa,"

_Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 119; G. Turner,

_Samoa_, pp. 177 _sqq._, 180 _sqq._; S. Ella, _op. cit._ pp. 632

_sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 84 _sqq._; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 286 _sq._, 288 _sqq._

It says much for the natural ability of the Samoans that they should

have attained to a level of culture so comparatively high with material

resources so scanty and defective. Nature, indeed, supplied them with

abundance of food and timber, but she denied them the metals, which were

unknown in the islands until they were introduced from Europe. In their

native state, accordingly, the Samoans were still in the Stone Age,

their principal tools being stone axes and adzes, made mainly from a

close-grained basalt which is found in the island of Tutuila. Of these

axes the rougher were chipped, but the finer were ground. Shells were

used as cutting instruments and as punches to bore holes in planks; and

combs, neatly carved out of bone, were employed as instruments in

tattooing. A wooden dibble served them instead of a plough to turn up

the earth. The only skins they prepared were those of sharks and some

other fish, which they used as rasps for smoothing woodwork. The art of

pottery was unknown.[67] Food was cooked in ovens of hot stones;[68]

fire was kindled by the friction of wood, the method adopted being what

is called the stick-and-groove process.[69]

[67] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 319;

G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 158; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 146,

149, 154, 159. As to the wooden dibbles, see Ella, _op. cit._ p.

635 (above, p. 166).

[68] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 111 _sq._; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 130.

[69] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 129.

We now pass to a consideration of the religion of these interesting

people, especially in regard to the human soul and its destiny after

death.

Sec. 6. _Religion: Gods of Families, Villages, and Districts_

The first missionary to Samoa, John Williams, was struck by the contrast

between the religion of the Samoans and the religion of the other

Polynesian peoples whom he had studied. "The religious system of the

Samoans," he says, "differs essentially from that which obtained at the

Tahitian, Society, and other islands with which we are acquainted. They

have neither _maraes_, nor temples, nor altars, nor offerings; and,

consequently, none of the barbarous and sanguinary rites observed at the

other groups. In consequence of this, the Samoans were considered an

impious race, and their impiety became proverbial with the people of

Rarotonga; for, when upbraiding a person who neglected the worship of

the gods, they would call him 'a godless Samoan.' But, although

heathenism was presented to us by the Samoans in a dress different from

that in which we had been accustomed to see it, having no altars stained

with human blood, no _maraes_ strewed with the skulls and bones of its

numerous victims, no sacred groves devoted to rites of which brutality

and sensuality were the most obvious features, this people had 'lords

many and gods many';--their religious system was as obviously marked as

any other with absurdity, superstition, and vice."[70]

[70] John Williams, _Narrative of Missionary

Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, pp. 465 _sq._