This account of the Samoan religion, written at a time when the islands

were not yet fully opened up to Europeans, must be modified by the

testimony of later writers, in particular with regard to the alleged

absence of temples and offerings; but in its broad outlines it holds

good, in so far as the Samoan ritual was honourably distinguished from

that of many other islands in the Pacific by its freedom from human

sacrifice and from the gross and licentious practices which prevailed in

other branches of the Polynesian race. The notion of the Rarotongans

that the Samoans were a godless people has proved to be totally

mistaken. On closer acquaintance it was found that they lived under the

influence of a host of imaginary deities who exercised their faith and

demanded their obedience. Among these deities the most numerous and

perhaps the most influential were the _aitu_, which were the gods of

individuals, of families, of towns or villages, and of districts.[71]

These gods were supposed to appear in some visible embodiment or

incarnation, and the particular thing, or class of things, in which his

god was in the habit of appearing, was to the Samoan an object of

veneration, and he took great care never to injure it or treat it with

contempt. In the great majority of cases the thing in which the deity

presented himself to his worshippers was a class of natural objects,

most commonly a species of animal, bird, or fish, less frequently a tree

or plant or an inanimate object, such as a stone, the rainbow, or a

meteor. One man, for example, saw his god in the eel, another in the

shark, another in the turtle, another in the owl, another in the lizard,

and so on throughout all the fish of the sea, the birds, the four-footed

beasts, and creeping things. In some of the shell-fish, such as the

limpets on the rocks, gods were supposed to be present. It was not

uncommon to see an intelligent chief muttering prayers to a fly, an ant,

or a lizard, which chanced to alight or crawl in his presence. A man

would eat freely of the incarnation of another man's god, but would most

scrupulously refrain from eating of the incarnation of his own

particular god, believing that death would be the consequence of such

sacrilege. The offended god was supposed to take up his abode in the

body of the impious eater and to generate there the very thing which he

had eaten, till it caused his death. For example, if a man, whose family

god was incarnate in the prickly sea-urchin (_Echinus_), were to eat of

a sea-urchin, it was believed that a prickly sea-urchin would grow in

his body and kill him. If his family god were incarnate in the turtle,

and he was rash enough to eat a turtle, the god would enter into him,

and his voice would be heard from within the sinner's body, saying, "I

am killing this man; he ate my incarnation." Occasionally, however, the

penalty exacted by the deity was less severe. If, for instance, a man's

god was in cockles, and he ate one of these shell-fish, a cockle would

grow on his nose; if he merely picked up a cockle on the shore and

walked away with it, the shell-fish would appear on some part of his

person. But in neither case, apparently, would the kindly cockle take

the life of the offender. It was not a bloodthirsty deity. Again, a man

whose god was in coco-nuts would never drink the refreshing beverage

which other people were free to extract from the nuts. But the

worshipper who shrank from eating or drinking his god in the shape, say,

of an octopus or of coco-nut water, would often look on with

indifference while other people partook of these his divinities. He

might pity their ignorance or envy their liberty, but he would not seek

to enlighten the one or to restrain the other.[72] Indeed this

indifference was sometimes carried to great lengths. For example, a man

whose god was incarnate in the turtle, though he would not himself dare

to partake of turtle, would have no scruple in helping a neighbour to

cut up and cook a turtle; but in doing so he took the precaution to tie

a bandage over his mouth to prevent an embryo turtle from slipping down

his throat and sealing his doom by growing up in his stomach.[73]

Sometimes the incarnate deity, out of consideration perhaps for the

weakness of the flesh, would limit his presence to a portion of an

animal, it might be the left wing of a pigeon, or the tail of a dog, or

the right leg of a pig.[74] The advantages of such a restriction to a

worshipper are obvious. A man, for instance, to whom it would have been

death to eat the right leg of a pig, might partake of a left leg of pork

with safety and even with gusto. And so with the rest of the divine

menagery.

[71] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_

(London, 1866), pp. 106 _sqq._; T. H. Hood, _Notes of a Cruise

in H.M.S. "Fawn" in the Western Pacific_, p. 141; G. Turner,

_Samoa_, pp. 16 _sqq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 211, 215

_sqq._

[72] J. Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises

in the South Sea Islands_, p. 468; Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the

United States Exploring Expedition_, ii. 131 _sq._; T. H. Hood,

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

141; W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 106

_sqq._; Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de

Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 111; G.

Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 16 _sqq._, 40, 50 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old

Samoa_, pp. 211, 216 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and

Polynesians_, pp. 137, 218. The account of these deities given

by Dr. G. Turner is by far the fullest and best.

[73] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 67 _sq._

[74] W. T. Pritchard, _op. cit._ p. 107. Similarly some

people had pig's heart for their god, or the embodiment of their

god, and they scrupulously avoided eating pigs' hearts lest

pigs' hearts should grow in their bodies and so cause their

death. See G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 72.

However, even if the worst had happened, that is to say, if the deity

had been killed, cooked and eaten, the consequences were not necessarily

fatal to his worshippers; there were modes of redeeming the lives of the

sinners and of expiating their sin. Suppose, for example, that the god

of a household was the cuttle-fish, and that some visitor to the house

had, either in ignorance or in bravado, caught a cuttle-fish and cooked

it, or that a member of the family had been present where a cuttle-fish

was eaten, the family would meet in conclave to consult about the

sacrilege, and they would select one of their number, whether a man or a

woman, to go and lie down in a cold oven and be covered over with

leaves, just as in the process of baking, all to pretend that the person

was being offered up as a burnt sacrifice to avert the wrath of the

deity. While this solemn pretence was being enacted, the whole family

would engage in prayer, saying, "O bald-headed cuttle-fish, forgive what

has been done. It was all the work of a stranger." If they did not thus

abase themselves before the divine cuttle-fish, they believed that the

god would visit them and cause a cuttle-fish to grow internally in their

bodies and so be the death of some of them.[75] Similar modes of

appeasing the wrath of divine eels, mullets, stinging ray fish, turtles,

wild pigeons, and garden lizards were adopted with equal success.[76]

[75] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 31 _sq._

[76] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 38, 58, 59, 69 _sq._, 72.

Apparently the Samoans were even more concerned to defend their village

gods or district gods against injury and insult than to guard the

deities of simple individuals. We are told that all the inhabitants of a

district would thus unite for the protection of the local divinity.[77]

For example, it happened that in a village where the first native

Christian teachers settled one of them caught a sea-eel (_Muraena_) and

cooked it, and two of the village lads, who were their servants, ate

some of the eel for their supper. But the eel was the village god, and

when the villagers heard that the lads had eaten the god, they

administered a sound thrashing to the culprits, and dragged them off to

a cooking-house where they laid them down in the oven pit and covered

them with leaves in the usual way, as if the lads had been killed and

were now to be cooked as a peace-offering to avert the wrath of the

deity.[78] When John Williams had caused some Christian natives to kill

a large sea-snake and dry it on the rocks to be preserved as a specimen,

the heathen fishermen of the island at sight of it raised a most

terrific yell, and, seizing their clubs, rushed upon the Christian

natives, saying, "You have killed our god! You have killed our god!" It

was with difficulty that Mr. Williams restrained their violence on

condition that the reptile should be immediately carried back to the

boat from which the missionary had landed.[79] The island in which this

happened belonged to the Tongan group, but precisely the same incident

might have occurred in Samoa. In some parts of Upolu a goddess was

believed to be incarnate in bats, and if a neighbour chanced to kill one

of these creatures, the indignant worshippers of the bat might wage a

war to avenge the insult to their deity.[80] If people who had the

stinging ray fish for the incarnation of their god heard that their

neighbours had caught a fish of that sort, they would go and beg them to

give it up and not to cook it. A refusal to comply with the request

would be followed by a fight.[81]

[77] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 216 _sq._

[78] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 58.

[79] J. Williams, _op. cit._ p. 469.

[80] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 57.

[81] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 75.

Accordingly, when the Samoans were converted to Christianity, they gave

the strongest proof of the genuineness of their conversion by killing

and eating their animal gods. Thus when a chief named Malietoa renounced

heathenism, he caused an eel to be publicly caught, cooked, and eaten by

many persons who had hitherto regarded the eel as their god. His own

sons had a different sort of fish, called _anae_, for their private

deity, and to demonstrate their faith in the new religion they had a

quantity of the fish caught, cooked, and served up in the presence of a

large party of friends and relations. There, with trembling hearts, they

partook of the once sacred morsel; but, their fears getting the better

of them, they immediately retired from the feast and swallowed a

powerful emetic, lest the divine fish should lie heavy on their stomachs

and devour their vitals.[82] As nothing particular happened after these

daring innovations, the people took heart of grace, and concerted

further plans for the destruction of their ancient deities. Among these

was a certain Papo, who was nothing more or less than a piece of old

rotten matting, about three yards long and four inches wide; but being a

god of war and, in that capacity, always attached to the canoe of the

leader when they went forth to battle, he was regarded with great

veneration by the people. At the assembly convoked to decide on his

fate, the first proposal was to throw him into the fire. But the idea

was too shocking to the general sense of the community, and by way of

making death as little painful as possible to the deity, they decided to

take him out to sea in a canoe and there consign him to a watery grave.

Even from this mitigated doom Papo was rescued by the efforts of the

missionaries, and he now adorns a museum.[83]

[82] J. Williams, _op. cit._ pp. 373 _sq._

[83] J. Williams, _op. cit._ p. 375.

But even when the career of one of these animal gods was not prematurely

cut short by being killed, cooked, and eaten, he was still liable to die

in the course of nature; and when his dead body was discovered, great

was the sorrow of his worshippers. If, for example, the god of a village

was an owl, and a dead owl was found lying beside a road or under a

tree, it would be reverently covered up with a white cloth by the person

who discovered it, and all the villagers would assemble round the dead

god and burn their bodies with firebrands and beat their foreheads with

stones till the blood flowed. Then the corpse of the feathered deity

would be wrapped up and buried with as much care and ceremony as if it

were a human body. However, that was not the death of the god. He was

supposed to be yet alive and incarnate in all the owls in existence.[84]

[84] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 21, 26, 60 _sq._ Compare

W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 110 _sq._

The offerings to these deities consisted chiefly of cooked food,[85]

which was apparently deemed as essential to the sustenance of gods as of

men, and that even when the gods were not animals but stones. For

example, two oblong smooth stones, which stood on a platform of loose

stones near a village, were regarded as the parents of the rain-god, and

when the people were making ready to go off to the woods for the

favourite sport of pigeon-catching, they used to lay offerings of cooked

taro and fish on the stones, accompanied by prayers for fine weather and

no rain. These stone gods were also believed to cause yams to grow;

hence in time of dearth a man would present them with a yam in hope of

securing their favour.[86]

[85] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 20.

[86] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 24 _sq._

At the feasts the first cup of kava was dedicated to the god, the

presiding chief either pouring it out on the ground or waving it towards

the sky. Afterwards all the chiefs drank from the same cup according to

their rank; then the food brought as an offering was divided and eaten

there before the god.[87] Even within the circle of the family it was

customary to pour out on the ground a little kava as an offering to the

family god before any one else drank of it.[88]

[87] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 20; W. T. Pritchard,

_Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 121 _sqq._

[88] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 229.

Annual feasts were held in honour of the gods, and the season of the

feast was often in May, but sometimes in April or June.[89] In some

cases the feasts were regulated by the appearance of the bird which was

believed to be the incarnation of the god. Whenever the bird was seen,

the priest would say that the god had come, and he would fix upon a day

for the entertainment of the deity.[90] At these festivals all the

people met in the place of public assembly, where they had collected

heaps of cooked food. First, they made their offerings to the god and

prayed to him to avert calamity and grant prosperity; then they feasted

with and before their god, and after that any strangers present might

eat. Some of the festivals included games, such as wrestling,

spear-throwing, club exercises, sham-fights, and nocturnal dances; and

they lasted for days.[91] At one of these annual festivals held in the

month of June, the exercise with clubs assumed a serious and indeed

sanguinary form. All the people, old and young, men, women, and

children, took part in it, and battered their scalps till the blood

streamed down over their faces and bodies. This proof of their devotion

was supposed to be acceptable to the deity, who, gratified by the sight

of their flowing blood, would answer their prayers for health, good

crops, and victory in war.[92] At the feast of the cockle god in May

prayers were offered up to the divine shell-fish that he would be

pleased to cure the coughs and other ailments usually prevalent at that

season, which in Samoa forms the transition from the wet to the dry

months.[93] At the festival of an owl god, which fell about the month of

April, the offerings and prayers were particularly directed towards the

removal of caterpillars from the plantations; for these insects were

believed to be the servants of the owl god, who could send them as his

ministers of vengeance to lay waste the fields and orchards of the

impious.[94] Elsewhere the owl was a war god, and at the beginning of

the annual fish festivals the chiefs and people of the village assembled

round the opening of the first oven and gave the first fish to the

god.[95] A family, who had the eel for their household god, showed their

gratitude to him for his kindness by presenting him with the first

fruits of their taro plantation.[96] Another family believed their deity

to be incarnate in centipedes; and if a member of the family fell ill or

was bitten by a centipede, they would offer the divine reptile a fine

mat and a fan, with a prayer for the recovery of the patient.[97] The

utility of a fine mat and a fan to a centipede is too obvious to be

insisted on. Sometimes offerings were made to a god, not to persuade him

to come, but to induce him to go away. For example, where gods or

spirits were believed to voyage along the coast, offerings of food were

often set down on the beach as an inducement to the spirits to take the

victuals and pass on without calling at that particular place.[98]

[89] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 20, 26, 29, 41, 44, 47,

53, 57.

[90] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 20 _sq._

[91] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 20, 26, 29; W. T.

Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, p. 123.

[92] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 57.

[93] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 41.

[94] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 47.

[95] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 25 _sq._

[96] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 70 _sq._

[97] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 47 _sq._

[98] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 229.

Formal prayers were offered to the god by the head of a family, and

public prayer was put up when the men were setting out for war. On such

occasions they prayed that stones, stumps of trees, and other obstacles

might be taken out of the way of the warriors, and that their path might

be wet with the blood of their foes. All their prayers were for temporal

benefits, such as protection against enemies, plenty of food, and other

desirable objects. They attached great importance to confession of

wrongdoing in times of danger, but, so far as appears, they expressed no

repentance, promised no amendment, and offered no prayer for

forgiveness. If, for example, a canoe, crossing the channel between

Savaii and Upolu, were caught in a squall and seemed likely to be

swamped, the steersman would head the canoe to the wind, and every man

on board would make a clean breast of his sins. One would say, "I stole

a fowl at such and such a village." Another would confess an intrigue

with a married woman somewhere else; and so on. When all had either

confessed their guilt or declared their innocence, the helmsman would

put the helm about and scud before the wind, in perfect confidence of

bringing the canoe and crew safe to land.[99]

[99] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 229

_sq._

When a god was believed to be incarnate in a species of birds or animals

or fish, omens were naturally drawn from the appearance and behaviour of

the creatures. This happened particularly in time of war, when hopes and

fears were rife among the people. Thus, if their war god was an owl,

and the bird fluttered above the troops on the march, the omen was good;

but if the owl flew away in the direction of the enemy, it was an evil

omen, the god had deserted them and joined the foe;[100] if it crossed

the path of the warriors or flew back on them, it was a warning to

retreat.[101] So in places where the war-god was a rail-bird, if the

bird screeched and flew before the army, the people marched confidently

to battle; but if it turned and flew back, they hesitated. If the

plumage of the rail showed glossy red, it was a sign to go to war; but

if the feathers were dark and dingy, it was a warning to stay at home.

And if the bird were heard chattering or scolding, as they called it, at

midnight, it prognosticated an attack next day, and they would at once

send off the women and children to a place of safety.[102] In like

manner omens were drawn from the flight of herons, kingfishers, the

_Porphyris Samoensis_, and flying-foxes, where these creatures were

supposed to incarnate the war god.[103] People who saw their war god in

the lizard used to take omens from a lizard before they went forth to

fight. They watched the movements of a lizard in a bundle of spears. If

the creature ran about the outside of the bundle and the points of the

spears, the omen was favourable; but if it crept into the bundle for

concealment, it was an evil sign.[104] The inhabitants of several

villages looked upon dogs, especially white dogs, as the incarnation of

their war god; accordingly if the dog wagged his tail, barked, and

dashed ahead in sight of the enemy, it was a good omen; but if he

retreated or howled, their hearts failed them.[105] Again, where the

cuttle-fish was the war god, the movements of that fish at sea were

anxiously observed in time of war. If the fish swam inshore while the

people were mustering for battle, it augured victory; but if it swam far

away, it portended defeat.[106]

[100] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 25 _sq._

[101] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 60.

[102] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 52, 61, 65.

[103] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 35, 51, 54 _sq._, 64.

[104] G. Turner, pp. 46 _sq._

[105] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 49.

[106] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 29.

When a god was supposed to dwell in some inanimate object, the art of

divination was similarly employed to elicit a knowledge of the future

from an observation of the object, whatever it might be. In several

villages, for example, the people viewed a rainbow as the representative

of their war god. If, when they were going to battle by land or sea, a

rainbow appeared in the sky right in front of them, with the arch, as it

were, straddling across the line of march or the course that the fleet

was steering, it was a warning to turn back. But if the bow shone on the

right or left of the army or of the fleet, it meant that the god was

marching with them, and cheering on the advance.[107] Another village

revered its god in the lightning. When lightning flashed frequently in

time of war, it was believed that the god had come to help and direct

his people. A constant play of lightning over a particular spot was a

warning that the enemy was lurking there in ambush. A rapid succession

of flashes in front meant that the foe was being driven back; but if the

lightning flashed from front to rear, it was a signal to retreat.[108]

In one large village the war god resided in two teeth of the sperm

whale, which were kept in a cave and observed by a priest in time of

war. If the teeth were found lying east and west, it was a good omen;

but if they lay north and south, it prognosticated defeat.[109] In

another place the war god was present in a bundle of shark's teeth, and

the people consulted the bundle before they went out to fight. If the

bundle felt heavy, it foreboded ill; but if it was light, it was an omen

of victory, and the troops marched with hearts correspondingly

light.[110]

[107] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 35; compare p. 43.

[108] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 59 _sq._

[109] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 35.

[110] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 55.

When the god was incarnate in a live creature, it was an obvious

advantage to ensure his constant presence and blessing by owning a

specimen of his incarnation and feeding it. Hence some folk kept a tame

god on their premises. For instance, some people possessed a war god in

the shape of a pet owl;[111] others had a divine pigeon, which was

carefully kept and fed by the different members of the family in

turn.[112] Yet others were so fortunate as to capture the thunder god

and to keep him in durance, which effectually prevented him from doing

mischief. Having caught him, they tied him up with pandanus leaves and

frightened him by poking firebrands at him. And lest, as an old

offender, he should attempt to break prison and relapse into his former

career of crime, they filled a basket with pandanus leaves and charred

firebrands and hung it up on a tree _in terrorem_, to signify what he

might expect to get if he took it into his head to strike houses

again.[113]

[111] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 25 _sq._

[112] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 64.

[113] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 34.

Vegetable gods were much less plentiful than animal gods in Samoa. Still

they occurred. Thus, the god of one family lived in a large tree

(_Hernandia peltata_); hence no member of the family dared to pluck a

leaf or break a branch of that tree.[114] The household deity of another

family dwelt in a tree of a different sort (_Conanga odorata_), which

has yellow and sweet-scented flowers.[115] In Savaii the special abode

of a village god called Tuifiti or "King of Fiji" was a grove of large

and durable trees (_Afzelia bijuga_). No one dared to cut that timber.

It is said that a party of natives from another island once tried to

fell one of these trees; but blood flowed from the trunk, and all the

sacrilegious strangers fell ill and died.[116] One family saw their god

in the moon. On the appearance of the new moon all the members of the

family called out, "Child of the moon, you have come." They assembled

also, presented offerings of food, feasted together, and joined in

praying, "Oh, child of the moon! Keep far away disease and death." And

they also prayed to the moon before they set out on the war path.[117]

But in Samoa, as in Tonga, there seems to be no record of a worship of

the sun, unless the stories of human sacrifices formerly offered to the

great luminary be regarded as reminiscences of sun-worship.[118]

[114] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 72.

[115] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 71.

[116] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 63.

[117] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 67.

[118] See above, p. 158.

Sec. 7. _Priests and Temples_

The father of a family acted as the priest of the household god. He

usually offered a short prayer at the evening meal, begging the deity to

guard them all from war, sickness, death, and the payment of fines.

Sometimes he would direct the family to hold a feast in honour of their

god, and on these occasions a cup of kava was poured out as a libation

to the divinity. Such simple domestic rites were celebrated in the

house, where the whole family assembled; for the gods were believed to

be present with men in a spiritual and invisible form as well as in the

material objects which were regarded as their visible embodiments. Often

the deity spoke through the father or other members of the family,

telling them what to do in order to remove a present evil or avert a

threatened one.[119]

[119] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 18. For the offering of

kava to the household god, compare _id._ p. 51.

But while every head of a family might thus act as a domestic priest and

mouthpiece of the deity, there was also a professional class of priests

set apart for the public worship of the gods, particularly of the war

gods, who in their nature did not differ essentially from the gods of

families, of villages, and of districts, being commonly embodied either

in particular material objects or in classes of such objects, especially

in various species of birds, animals, and fish, such as owls, rails,

kingfishers, dogs, lizards, flying-foxes, and cuttle-fish. Sometimes the

ruling chiefs acted as priests; but in general some one man in a

particular family claimed the dignity of the priesthood and professed to

declare the will of the god. His office was hereditary. He fixed the

days for the annual feasts in honour of the deity, received the

offerings, and thanked the people for them. He decided also whether the

people might go to war.[120] The priests possessed great authority over

the minds of the people, and they often availed themselves of their

influence to amass wealth.[121] The gods were supposed from time to time

to take possession of the priests and to speak through their mouths,

answering enquiries and issuing commands. Thus consulted as an oracle

the priest, or the god through him, might complain that the people had

been slack in making offerings of food and property, and he would

threaten them with vengeance if they did not speedily bring an ample

supply to the human representative of the deity. At other times the god

required a whole family to assemble and build him a large canoe or a

house, and such a command was always obeyed with alacrity and a humble

apology tendered for past neglect. The priests were also consulted

oracularly for the healing of the sick, the recovery of stolen property,

and the cursing of enemies. Thus they kept the people in constant fear

by their threats and impoverished them by their exactions.[122]

[120] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 20. For a full account of

the priesthood, see J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 220 _sqq._ As

to the Samoan war-gods, see G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 23, 25

_sq._, 27 _sq._, 28, 32, 33, 35, 42, 46 _sq._, 48, 49, 51, 52,

54 _sq._, 55, 57, 60, 61, 64, 65; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp.

215 _sq._

[121] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 70, 222 _sq._, 225;

G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 228, 246 _sq._

[122] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 223-225; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 246 _sq._

The outward signs of divine inspiration or possession were such as

priests or prophets have manifested in many lands and ages as conclusive

evidence of their being the vehicles of higher powers. The approach or

presence of the god was indicated by the priest beginning to gape, yawn,

and clear his throat; but soon his countenance changed, his body

underwent violent contortions, and in loud, unearthly tones, which the

trembling and awe-stricken hearers interpreted as the voice of an

indwelling deity, he delivered his message of exhortation or warning, of

menace, or comfort, or hope.[123]

[123] J. B. Stair, p. 223; G. Brown, _Melanesians and

Polynesians_, pp. 228, 246 _sq._

Spirit-houses (_fale-aitu_) or temples were erected for some, but not

all, of the class of deities (_aitu_) which we are now considering. It

was chiefly the war gods who were thus honoured. Such temples were built

with the same materials and in the same style as the houses of men, with

nothing to distinguish them from ordinary dwellings, except that they

almost always stood on platforms of stones, which varied in height and

size with the respect felt for the particular deity. They were usually

situated on the principal public place or green (_malae_) of the village

and surrounded by a low fence. Sometimes they were mere huts; yet being

viewed as the abode of gods they were held sacred and regarded with

great veneration by the Samoans in the olden time. Whatever emblems of

deity were in possession of the village were always placed in these

houses under the watchful care of keepers.[124] In one temple, for

instance, might be seen a conch shell hung from the roof in a basket.

This shell the god was supposed to blow when he wished the people to go

to war. In another a cup made of the shell of a coco-nut was suspended

from the roof, and before it prayers were uttered and offerings

presented. The cup was also used in an ordeal for the detection of

theft. In a trial before chiefs the cup would be sent for, and each of

the suspected culprits would lay his hand on it and say, "With my hand

on this cup, may the god look upon me, and send swift destruction, if I

took the thing which has been stolen." They firmly believed that it

would be death to touch the cup and tell a lie.[125]

[124] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 226-228.

[125] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 19.

The temples were always built by the united exertions of a whole family,

village, or district.[126] For example, when the inhabitants of a

village whose god was the cuttle-fish erected a new temple to that

deity, every man, woman, and child in the village contributed something

to it, if it was only a stick or a reed of thatch. While some of the

villagers were drafted off to put up the house, the rest engaged in a

free fight, which appears to have been considered as a necessary part of

the proceedings. On this occasion many old scores were settled, and he

who got most wounds was believed to have earned the special favour of

the deity. With the completion of the temple the fighting ended, and

ought not to be renewed for a year, till the anniversary of the building

of the temple came round, when the worshippers were again at liberty to

break each other's heads in honour of the divine cuttle-fish.[127]

[126] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 227 _sq._

[127] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 29 _sq._

At one place in Savaii there was a temple in which a priest constantly

resided. The sick used to be carried to him in the temple and there laid

down with offerings of fine mats. Thereupon the priest stroked the

diseased part, and the patient was supposed to recover.[128] We hear of

another temple in which fine mats were brought as offerings to the

priests and stored up in large numbers among the temple treasures. Thus

in time the temples might have amassed a considerable degree of wealth

and might even, if economic progress had not been arrested by European

intervention, have developed into banks. However, when the people were

converted to Christianity, they destroyed this particular temple and

dissipated the accumulated treasures in a single feast by way of

celebrating their adhesion to the new faith.[129] Where the bat was the

local deity, many bats used to flock about the temple in time of

war.[130] Where the kingfisher received the homage of the people as the

god of war, the old men of the village were wont to enter his temple in

times of public emergency and address the kingfisher; and people outside

could hear the bird replying, though, singularly enough, his voice was

that of a man, and not that of a bird. But as usual the god was

invisible.[131] In one place a temple of the great god Tangaloa was

called "the House of the Gods," and it was carefully shut up all round,

the people thinking that, if this precaution were not taken, the gods

would get out and in too easily and be all the more destructive.[132]

Such a temple might be considered rather as a prison than a house of the

gods.

[128] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 49.

[129] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 55.

[130] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 56 _sq._

[131] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 54 _sq._

[132] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 53.

To the rule that Samoan temples were built of the same perishable

materials as ordinary houses a single exception is known. About ten

miles inland from the harbour of Apia, in the island of Upolu, are the

ruins of a temple, of which the central and side posts and the rafters

were all constructed of stone. The ground plan seems to have resembled

that of an ordinary Samoan house of the best style, forming an ellipse

which measured fifty feet in one direction by forty feet in the other.

Two central pillars appear to have supported the roof, each fashioned of

a single block of stone some thirteen feet high, twelve inches thick one

way and nine inches the other. The rafters were in lengths of twelve

feet and six feet, by four inches square. Of the outside pillars, which

upheld the lower edge of the sloping roof, eighteen were seen standing

by Pritchard, who has described the ruins. Each pillar stood three feet

high and measured nine inches thick in one way by six inches in the

other. Each had a notch or shoulder on the inner side for supporting the

roof. Pillars and rafters were quarried from an adjoining bluff, distant

only some fifty yards from the ruins. Some squared stones lying at the

foot of the bluff seem to show that the temple was never completed. The

site of the ruins is a flat about three acres in area. The natives call

the ruins _Fale-o-le-Fe'e_, that is, the House of the Fe'e. This Fe'e

was a famous war god of A'ana and Faleata, two native towns of Upolu; he

was commonly incarnated in the cuttle-fish. As the Samoans were

unacquainted with the art of cutting stones, and had no tools suitable

for the work, they thought that this temple, with its columns and

rafters of squared stone, must have been built by the gods, and they

explained its unfinished state by alleging that the divine builders had

quarrelled among themselves before they had brought the work to

completion.[133]

[133] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp.

119-121; Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de

Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 112; G.

Turner, _Samoa_, p. 31; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 228; G.

Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 220.

For the sake of completeness I will mention another stone monument, of

more imposing dimensions, which has been discovered in Samoa, though its

origin and meaning are unknown. It stands on a tableland in the high

mountainous interior of Upolu and appears to be not altogether easy of

access. The discoverer, Mr. H. B. Sterndale, reached it by clambering up

from what he describes as a broad and dangerous ravine. In making his

way to the tableland he passed through a gap which from a distance he

had supposed to be a natural fissure in the rocks; but on arriving at it

he discovered, to his surprise, that the gap was in fact a great fosse

formed by the hand of man, being excavated in some places and built up

at others, while on one side, next to the rise of the hill, it was

further heightened by a parapet wall. When, passing through the fosse,

he issued upon the tableland, which is a level space of some twenty

acres in extent, he perceived the monument, "a truncated conical

structure or _Heidenmauer_ of such huge dimensions as must have required

the labour of a great multitude to construct. So little did I expect,"

he says, "in this neighbourhood to meet with any example of human

architecture, and so rudely monstrous was the appearance of this

cyclopean building, that from its peculiar form, and from the vegetation

with which it was overgrown, I might have passed it by, supposing it to

have been a volcanic hillock, had not my attention been attracted by the

stonework of the fosse. I hastened to ascend it. It was about twenty

feet high by one hundred in diameter. It was circular with straight

[perpendicular?] sides; the lower tiers of stone were very large, they

were lava blocks, some of which would weigh at least a ton, which must

have been rolled or moved on skids to their present places. They were

laid in courses; and in two places near the top seemed to have been

entrances to the inside, as in one appeared a low cave choked with rocks

and tree roots. If there had been chambers within, they were probably

narrow and still existing, as there was no sign of depression on the

crown of the work, which was flat and covered with flat stones, among

which grew both trees and shrubs. It is likely that it was not in itself

intended as a place of defence, but rather as a base or platform upon

which some building of importance, perhaps of timber, had been erected,

no doubt in the centre of a village, as many foundations of a few feet

high were near it. The fosse, when unbroken, and its inner wall entire,

was probably crossed by a foot-bridge, to be withdrawn on the approach

of an enemy; and the little gap, by which I had entered, closed, so that

this must have been a place of great security. The Samoan natives, as

far as I have been able to learn, have no tradition of what people

inhabited this mountain fastness."[134]

[134] H. B. Sterndale, quoted by R. A. Sterndale,

"Asiatic Architecture in Polynesia," _The Asiatic Quarterly

Review_, x. (July-October 1890) pp. 347-350. The writer of this

article reports the discoveries of his brother, Mr. Handley

Bathurst Sterndale.

On an adjoining tableland, approached by a steep and narrow ridge, Mr.

Sterndale saw a great number of cairns of stone, apparently graves,

disposed in rows among huge trees, the roots of which had overturned and

destroyed very many of the cairns. Here, within the numerous trunks of a

great spreading banyan tree, Mr. Sterndale found what he calls an inner

chamber, or cell, about ten feet square, the floor being paved with flat

stones and the walls built of enormous blocks of the same material,

while the roof was composed of the twisted trunks of the banyan tree,

which had grown into a solid arch and, festooned by creepers, excluded

even the faint glimmer of twilight that dimly illuminated the

surrounding forest. Disturbed by a light which the traveller struck to

explore the gloomy interior, bats fluttered about his head. In the

centre of the chamber he discovered a cairn, or rather cromlech, about

four feet high, which was formed of several stones arranged in a

triangle, with a great flat slab on the top. On the flat slab lay a

large conch shell, white with age, and encrusted with moss and dead

animalculae. The chamber or cell, enclosed by the trunks of the

banyan-tree, might have been inaccessible, if it were not that, under

the pressure of the tree-trunks, several of the great slabs composing

the wall had been displaced, leaving a passage.[135]

[135] H. B. Sterndale, _op. cit._ pp. 351 _sq._

What were these remarkable monuments? Mr. Sterndale believed the stone

chamber to be the tomb of some man of authority in ancient days, the

antiquity of the structure being vouched for by the great banyan-tree

which had so completely overgrown it. This view is likely enough, and is

confirmed by the large number of cairns about it, which appear to be

sepulchral. But what was the massive circular monument or platform,

built of huge blocks of lava laid in tiers? From Mr. Sterndale's

description it would seem that the structure closely resembled the tombs

of the sacred kings of Tonga, though these tombs are oblong instead of

circular. But they often supported a house or hut of wood and thatch;

and Mr. Sterndale may well be right in supposing that the circular

Samoan monument in like manner served as a platform to support a wooden

building. In this connexion we must not forget that the typical Samoan

house was circular or oval in contrast to the typical Tongan house,

which was oblong. The openings, which seemed to lead into the interior

of the monument, may have given access to the sepulchral chamber where

the bodies of the dead were deposited.

Slight as are these indications, they apparently point to the use of the

monument as a tomb. There is nothing, except perhaps its circular shape,

to suggest that it was a temple of the sun. As no such stone buildings

have been erected by the Samoans during the time they have been under

European observation, it may be, as Mr. Sterndale supposed, that all the

ruins described by him were the work of a people who inhabited the

islands before the arrival of the existing race.[136]

[136] H. B. Sterndale, _op. cit._ p. 352.

Sec. 8. _Origin of the Samoan Gods of Families, Villages, and Districts:

Relation to Totemism_

If we ask, What was the origin of the peculiar Samoan worship of animals

and other natural objects? the most probable answer seems to be that it

has been developed out of totemism. The system is not simple totemism,

for in totemism the animals, plants, and other natural objects are not

worshipped, that is, they do not receive offerings nor are approached

with prayers; in short, they are not gods, but are regarded as the

kinsfolk of the men and women who have them for totems. Further, the

local distribution of the revered objects in Samoa, according to

villages and districts, differs from the characteristic distribution of

totems, which is not by place but by social groups or clans, the members

of which are usually more or less intermixed with each other in every

district. It is true that in Samoa we hear of family or household gods

as well as of gods of villages and districts, and these family gods, in

so far as they consist of species of animals and plants which the

worshippers are forbidden to kill or eat, present a close analogy to

totems. But it is to be observed that these family gods were, so to say,

in a state of unstable equilibrium, it being always uncertain whether a

man would inherit his father's or his mother's god or would be assigned

a god differing from both of them. This uncertainty arose from the

manner of determining a man's god at birth. When a woman was in travail,

the help of several gods was invoked, one after the other, to assist the

birth; and the god who happened to be invoked at the moment when the

child saw the light, was his god for life. As a rule, the god of the

father's family was prayed to first; so that generally, perhaps, a man

inherited the god of his father. But if the birth was tedious and

difficult, the god of the mother's family was next invoked. When the

child was born, the mother would call out, "To whom were you praying?"

and the god prayed to just before was carefully remembered, and his

incarnation duly acknowledged throughout the future life of the

child.[137] Such a mode of selecting a divine patron is totally

different from the mode whereby, under pure totemism, a person obtains

his totem; for his totem is automatically determined for him at birth,

being, in the vast majority of cases, inherited either from his father

or from his mother, without any possibility of variation or selection.

Lastly, the Samoan system differs from most, though not all, systems of

totemism, in that it is quite independent of exogamy; in other words,

there is no rule forbidding people who revere the same god to marry each

other.

[137] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 17, 78 _sq._

Thus, while the Samoan worship of certain classes of natural objects,

especially species of animals, is certainly not pure totemism, it

presents points of analogy to that system, and might easily, we may

suppose, have been developed out of it, the feeling of kinship for

totemic animals and plants having been slowly transformed and sublimated

into a religious reverence for the creatures and a belief in their

divinity; while at the same time the clans, which were originally

intermixed, gradually sorted out from each other and settled down in

separate villages and districts. This gradual segregation of the clans

may have been facilitated by a change from maternal to paternal descent

of the totem; for when a man transmits his totem to his offspring, his

descendants in the male line tend naturally to expand into a local group

in which the totem remains constant from generation to generation

instead of alternating with each successive generation, as necessarily

happens when a man's children take their totem not from him but from

their mother. That the Samoan worship of _aitu_ was developed in some

such way out of simple totemism appears to have been the view of Dr.

George Brown, one of our best authorities on Samoan society and

religion; for he speaks without reserve of the revered objects as

totems.[138] A similar derivation of the Samoan _aitu_ was favoured by

Dr. Rivers, who, during a visit to Samoa, found some evidence

confirmatory of this conclusion.[139]

[138] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 137,

218, 334.

[139] W. H. R. Rivers, "Totemism in Polynesia and

Melanesia," _Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute_,

xxxix. (1909) pp. 159 _sq._

Sec. 9. _The High Gods of Samoa_

But besides these totemic gods of Samoa, as we may term them, which were

restricted in the circle of their worshippers to particular families,

villages, or districts, there were certain superior deities who were

worshipped by all the people in common and might accordingly be called

the national divinities of Samoa; indeed the worship of some of them was

not confined to Samoa, but was shared by the inhabitants of other groups

of islands in Polynesia. These high gods were considered the progenitors

of the inferior deities, and were believed to have formed the earth and

its inhabitants. They themselves dwelt in heaven, in the sea, on the

earth, or under the earth; but they were invisible and did not appear to

their worshippers in the form of animals or plants. They had no temples

and no priests, and were not invoked like their descendants.[140]

[140] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp.

111 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 211 _sq._

Among these high gods the chief was Tangaloa, or, as he was sometimes

called, Tangaloa-langi, that is, Tangaloa of the Skies. He was always

spoken of as the principal god, the creator of the world and progenitor

of the other gods and of mankind.[141] It is said that after existing

somewhere in space he made the heavens as an abode for himself, and that

wishing to have also a place under the heavens he created this lower

world (_Lalolangi_, that is, "Under the heavens"). According to one

account, he formed the islands of Savaii and Upolu by rolling down two

stones from the sky; but according to another story he fished them up

from the depths of the sea on a fishing-hook. Next he made the _Fee_ or

cuttle-fish, and told it to go down under the earth; hence the lower

regions of sea or land are called _Sa he fee_ or "sacred to the

cuttle-fish." In its turn the cuttle-fish brought forth all kinds of

rocks, including the great one on which we live.[142] Another myth

relates how Tangaloa sent down his son or daughter in the likeness of a

bird called _turi_, a species of plover or snipe (_Charadrius fulvus_).

She flew about, but could find no resting-place, for as yet there was

nothing but ocean; the earth had not been created or raised above the

sea. So she returned to her father in heaven and reported her fruitless

search; and at last he gave her some earth and a creeping plant. These

she took down with her on her next visit to earth; and after a time the

leaves of the plant withered and produced swarms of worms or maggots,

which gradually developed into men and women. The plant which thus by

its corruption gave birth to the human species was the convolvulus.

According to another version of the myth, it was in reply to the

complaint of his daughter or son that the sky-god Tangaloa fished up the

first islands from the bottom of the sea.[143]

[141] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 212.

[142] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 7.

[143] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 7 _sq._; J. B. Stair,

_Old Samoa_, pp. 212-214. The bird _turi_ or _tuli_ is spoken of

by Turner as the daughter, but by Stair as the son, of Tangaloa.

According to Turner, the bird is a species of snipe; according

to Stair, a species of plover. As to Tangaloa and the stories

told about him, compare John Williams, _Narrative of Missionary

Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, pp. 469 _sq._; H. Hale,

_Ethnography and Philology of the United States Exploring

Expedition_, p. 22; Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur

l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870)

pp. 111 _sq._; E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative

Dictionary_, p. 463, _s.v._ "Tangaroa."

Another of the national gods of Samoa was Mafuie, who was supposed to

dwell in the subterranean regions and to cause earthquakes by shaking

the pillar on which the earth reposes. In a tussle with the hero

Ti'iti'i, who descended to the lower world to rob Mafuie of his fire,

the earthquake god lost one of his arms, and the Samoans considered this

as a very fortunate circumstance; for otherwise they said that, if

Mafuie had had two arms, he would have shaken the world to pieces.[144]

It is said that during a shock of earthquake the natives used to rush

from their houses, throw themselves upon the ground, gnaw the grass, and

shriek in the most frantic manner to Mafuie to desist, lest he should

shake the earth to bits.[145]

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

Exploring Expedition_, ii. 131; W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian

Reminiscences_, pp. 112, 114 _sqq._; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp.

209-211; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 238 _sq._

[145] J. Williams, _op. cit._ p. 379.

It seems to be doubtful whether among the Samoan gods are to be numbered

the souls of deceased ancestors. Certainly the evidence for the practice

of a worship of the dead is far less full and clear in Samoa than in

Tonga. On this subject Dr. George Brown writes as follows: "Traces of

ancestor worship are few and indistinct. The word _tupua_ is supposed by

some to mean the deified spirits of chiefs, and to mean that they

constituted a separate order from the _atua_, who were the original

gods. The word itself is the name of a stone, supposed to be a petrified

man, and is also generally used as the name of any image having some

sacred significance, and as representing the body into which the deified

spirit was changed. What appears certain is that ancestor worship had

amongst the Samoans gradually given place to the worship of a superior

order of supernatural beings not immediately connected with men, but

having many human passions and modes of action and life. There are,

however, some cases which seem to point to ancestor worship in olden

days, as in the case of the town of Matautu, which is said to have been

settled by a colony from Fiji. Their principal deity was called Tuifiti,

the King of Fiji. He was considered to be the head of that family, and a

grove of trees, _ifilele_ (the green-heart of India), was sacred to him

and could not be cut or injured in any way."[146] This god was supposed

to be incarnate in a man who walked about, but he was never visible to

the people of the place, though curiously enough he could be seen by

strangers.[147]

[146] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 223.

See also above, p. 192.

[147] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 62 _sq._ The town or

village of Matautu is in the island of Savaii. According to G.

Turner, the sacred tree of Tuifiti was the _Afzelia bijuga_.

However, another experienced missionary, J. B. Stair, who knew Samoa a

good many years before Dr. Brown arrived in it, speaks apparently

without hesitation of the _tupua_ as being "the deified spirits of

chiefs, who were also supposed to dwell in Pulotu," where they became

posts in the house or temple of the gods. Many beautiful emblems, he

says, were chosen to represent the immortality of these deified spirits;

among them were some of the heavenly bodies, including the Pleiades and

the planet Jupiter, also the rainbow, the marine rainbow, and many

more. He adds that the embalmed bodies of some chiefs were worshipped

under the significant title of "sun-dried gods"; and that people prayed

and poured libations of kava at the graves of deceased relatives.[148]

[148] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 210 _sq._, 215.

Sec. 10. _The Samoan Belief concerning the Human Soul: Funeral Customs_

Whether the Samoans practised the worship of the dead in a developed

form or not, they certainly possessed the elements out of which the

worship might under favourable circumstances be evolved. These elements

are a belief in the survival of the human soul after death, and a fear

of disembodied spirits or ghosts.

The Samoans believed that every man is animated by a soul, which departs

from the body temporarily in faints and dreams and permanently at death.

The soul of the dreamer, they thought, really visited the places which

he saw in his dream. At death it departed to the subterranean world of

the dead which the Samoans called Pulotu, a name which clearly differs

only dialectically from the Tongan Bolotoo or Bulotu. Some people

professed to see the parting soul when it had quitted its mortal body

and was about to take flight to the nether region. It was always of the

same shape as the body. Such apparitions at the moment of death were

much dreaded, and people tried to drive them away by shouting and firing

guns. The word for soul is _anganga_, which is a reduplicated form of

_anga_, a verb meaning "to go" or "to come." Thus apparently the Samoans

did not, like many people, identify the soul with the shadow; for in

Samoan the word for shadow is _ata_.[149]

[149] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 8, 16; J. B. Stair, _Old

Samoa_, p. 220; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 218

_sq._; E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p.

26, _s.v._ "Ata."

However, they seem to have in a dim way associated a man's soul with his

shadow. This appears from a remarkable custom which they observed in the

case of the unburied dead. The Samoans were much concerned for the lot

of these unfortunates and stood in great dread of their ghosts. They

believed that the spirits of those who had not received the rites of

burial wandered about wretched and forlorn and haunted their relatives

everywhere by day and night, crying in doleful tones, "Oh, how cold! oh,

how cold!" Hence when the body of a dead kinsman was lost because he had

been drowned at sea or slain on a battlefield, some of his relatives

would go down to the seashore or away to the battlefield where their

friend had perished; and there spreading out a cloth on the ground they

would pray to some god of the family, saying, "Oh, be kind to us; let us

obtain without difficulty the spirit of the young man!" After that the

first thing that lighted on the cloth was supposed to be the spirit of

the dead. It might be a butterfly, a grasshopper, an ant, a spider, or a

lizard; whatever it might be, it was carefully wrapt up and taken to the

family, who buried the bundle with all due ceremony, as if it contained

the body of their departed friend. Thus the unquiet spirit was believed

to find rest. Now the insect, or whatever it happened to be, which thus

acted as proxy at the burial was supposed to be the _ata_ or shadow of

the deceased. The same word _ata_ served to express likeness; a

photographer, for example, is called _pue-ata_, "shadow-catcher." The

Samoans do not appear to have associated the soul with the breath.[150]

[150] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 170

_sq._, 218 sq.; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 150 _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. 641 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old

Samoa_, p. 184. According to Brown and Stair the ceremony

described in the text was observed when a man had died a violent

death, even when the relatives were in possession of the body,

and in that case the insect, or whatever it might be, was buried

with the corpse. I have followed Turner and Ella in supposing

that the ceremony was only observed when the corpse could not be

found. As to the fear of the spirits of the unburied dead, see

also W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 58 _sq._,

151.

They attributed disease and death to the anger of a god, to the agency

of an evil spirit, or to the ghost of a dead relative who had entered

into the body of the sufferer. Epilepsy, delirium, and mania were always

thus explained by the entrance into the patient of a god or demon. The

Samoan remedy for all such ailments was not medicine but exorcism.

Sometimes a near relative of the sick person would go round the house

brandishing a spear and striking the walls to drive away the spirit that

was causing the sickness.[151] Hence when a member of a family fell

seriously ill, his friends did not send for a doctor, but repaired to

the high priest of the village to enquire of him the cause of the

sickness, to learn why the family god (_aitu_) was angry with them, and

to implore his mercy and forgiveness. Often the priest took advantage of

their anxiety to demand a valuable piece of property, such as a canoe or

a parcel of ground, as the best means of propitiating the angry deity

and so ensuring the recovery of the patient. With all these demands the

anxious and unsuspecting relatives readily complied. But if the priest

happened not to want anything in particular at the time, he would

probably tell the messengers to gather the family about the bed of the

sufferer and there confess their sins. The command was implicitly

obeyed, and every member of the family assembled and made a clean breast

of his or her misdeeds, especially of any curse which he or she might

have called down either on the family generally or on the invalid in

particular. Curiously enough, the curse of a sister was peculiarly

dreaded; hence in such cases the sister of the sick man was closely

questioned as to whether she had cursed him and thus caused his illness;

if so, she was entreated to remove the curse, that he might recover.

Moved by these pleadings, she might take some coco-nut water in her

mouth and spurt it out towards or upon the body of the sufferer. By this

action she either removed the curse or declared her innocence; a similar

ceremony might be performed by any other member of the family who was

suspected of having cursed the sick man.[152]

[151] S. Ella, _op. cit._ pp. 639, 643; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 223 _sq._, 402.

[152] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp.

146 _sq._; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 140 _sq._; S. Ella, _op.

cit._ p. 639; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 180 _sq._; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 223 _sq._, 401.

When an illness seemed likely to prove fatal, messengers were despatched

to friends at a distance that they might come and bid farewell to the

dying man. Every one who came to visit the sufferer in his last moments

brought a present of a fine mat or other valuable piece of property as

a token of regard, and to defray the cost of the illness and funeral.

The best of the mats would be laid on the body of the dying man that he

might have the comfort of seeing them before he closed his eyes for

ever. Dr. George Brown thought that the spirits of the mats thus laid on

the body of the dying chief were supposed to accompany his soul to the

other world. It is possible that their spirits did so, but it is certain

that their material substance did not; for after the funeral all the

mats and other valuables so presented were distributed among the

mourners and friends assembled on the occasion, so that every one who

had brought a gift took away something in return on his departure.[153]

[153] W. T. Pritchard, _op. cit._ pp. 147, 150 _sq._;

G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 141 _sq._, 146; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p.

639; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 180; G. Brown, _Melanesians

and Polynesians_, pp. 220, 401, 405 _sq._

If the dying man happened to be a chief, numbers crowded round him to

receive a parting look or word, while in front of the house might be

seen men and women wildly beating their heads and bodies with great

stones, thus inflicting on themselves ghastly wounds, from which the

blood poured as an offering of affection and sympathy to their departing

friend or lord. It was hoped that, pleased and propitiated by the sight

of their devotion, the angry god might yet stay his hand and spare the

chief to his people. Above all the tumult and uproar would rise the

voice of one who prayed aloud for the life then trembling in the

balance. But if the prayer seemed likely to prove ineffectual, it was

exchanged for threats and upbraiding. "O thou shameless spirit," the

voice would now be heard exclaiming, "could I but grasp you, I would

smash your skull to pieces! Come here and let us fight together. Don't

conceal yourself, but show yourself like a man, and let us fight, if you

are angry."[154]

[154] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 181 _sq._

Immediately after death, all the mats on the floor of the house were

thrown outside, and the thatched sides of the house were either torn

down or knocked in with clubs; while the relatives and assembled crowds

wrought themselves up to frenzy, uttering loud shrieks, rending their

garments, tearing out their hair by handfuls, burning their bodies with

firebrands, beating their faces and heads with clubs and stones, or

gashing themselves with shells and shark's teeth, till the blood ran

freely down. This they called an offering of blood for the dead. In

their fury some of the mourners fell on the canoes and houses, breaking

them up and tearing them down, felling the bread-fruit trees, and

devastating the plantations of yams and taro.[155]

[155] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, p.

148; G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 144; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 640; J.

B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 182; G. Brown, _Melanesians and

Polynesians_, pp. 401 _sq._

As decomposition is rapid in the hot moist climate of Samoa, it was

customary to bury commoners a few hours after death. The body was laid

out on a mat, anointed with scented oil, and the face tinged with

turmeric, to soften the cadaverous look. It was then wound up in several

folds of native cloth and the chin propped up, the head and face being

left uncovered, while for some hours longer the body was surrounded by

weeping relatives, who kept constant watch over it, so long as it

remained in the house. These watchers were always women, and none of

them might quit her post under any pretext till she was relieved by

another. A fire was kept burning brightly in the house all the time. If

the deceased had died of a complaint which had previously carried off

other members of the family, they would probably open the body to

"search for the disease." Any inflamed substance which they happened to

find they would take away and burn, thinking thus to prevent any other

member of the family from being similarly afflicted. Such a custom

betrays an incipient sense of death from natural, instead of

supernatural, causes, and must have contributed to diffuse a knowledge

of human anatomy.[156]

[156] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp.

148 _sq._; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 144 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old

Samoa_, 182; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 402.

So long as a corpse remained in the house no food might be eaten under

the roof; the family had their meals outside or in another house. Those

who had attended to the deceased or handled the corpse were taboo: they

might not feed themselves or touch food with their hands. For days they

were fed by others as if they were helpless infants. Baldness and the

loss of teeth were supposed to be the punishment inflicted by the

household god for a breach of the rule. Many people fasted at such

times, eating nothing during the day, but taking a meal in the evening.

The fifth day was a day of purification. The tabooed persons then washed

their faces and hands with hot water and were clean; after that they

were free to eat at the usual time and in the usual manner.[157]

[157] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 145; W. T. Pritchard, _op.

cit._ p. 149; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 640; J. B. Stair, _Old

Samoa_, p. 182; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p.

402.

The ordinary mode of disposing of the dead was by interment either in a

stone vault or in a shallow grave. But occasionally other modes were

adopted, such as embalming, putting the corpse in a canoe and setting it

adrift on the sea, or exposing it on a stage erected in the forest,

where it was left to decay, the bones being afterwards collected and

buried. Upon the death of a chief his body was generally deposited in a

family vault, the sides and bottom of which were lined with large slabs

of sandstone or basalt, while another large slab of the same material

formed the roof. Such vaults were sometimes large and massive. The

stones used in their construction were found in various parts of the

islands. Commoners were buried in shallow graves.[158]

[158] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 178 _sq._

Ordinary people were usually buried the day after they died. As many

friends as could be present attended the funeral. Every one brought a

present, but on the day after the funeral all these presents, like those

which had previously been made to the dying man, were distributed again,

so that none went empty-handed away. The corpse was generally buried

without a coffin; but chiefs were laid in hollow logs or canoes.

However, even the bodies of common people were sometimes interred

in rude coffins similarly constructed. There were no common

burying-grounds; all preferred to bury their dead on their own land.

Often the grave was dug close to the house. The body was laid in it with

the head to the east and the feet to the west. When it had been thus

committed to its last resting-place, a near relative of the deceased, a

sister, if one survived, seated herself at the grave, and waving a white

cloth over the corpse, began an address to the dead. "Compassion to

you," she said, "go with goodwill, and without bearing malice towards

us. Take with you all our diseases, and leave us life." Then pointing to

the west, she exclaimed, "Misery there!" Next pointing to the east, she

cried, "Prosperity there!" Lastly, pointing to the grave, she said,

"Misery there; but leave happiness with us!" With the body they

deposited in the grave several things which had been used by the

deceased during his illness, such as his clothing, his drinking-cup, and

his bamboo pillow. The wooden pickaxes and coco-nut shells employed as

shovels in digging the grave were also carefully buried with the corpse.

It was not, we are told, because the people believed these things to be

of use to the dead; but because it was supposed that, if they were left

and handled by others, further disease and death would be the

consequence. Valuable mats and other articles of property were sometimes

buried with the corpse, and the grave of a warrior was surrounded with

spears stuck upright in the ground. Graves were sometimes enclosed with

stones and strewn with sand or crumbled coral.[159]

[159] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp.

150 _sq._; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 146 _sq._; S. Ella, _op.

cit._ pp. 640 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 179 _sq._,

182 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 403.

The obsequies of a chief of high rank were more elaborate. The body was

kept unburied for days until his clansfolk had assembled from various

parts of the islands and paraded the body, shoulder high, through the

village, chanting a melancholy dirge.[160] The mourning and ceremonies

lasted from ten to fifteen days. All that time the house of death was

watched night and day by men appointed for the purpose. After the

burial, and until the days of mourning were ended, the daytime was

generally spent in boxing and wrestling matches, and sham-fights, while

the nights were occupied with dancing and practising a kind of

buffoonery, which was customary at these seasons of mourning for the

dead. The performance was called _O le tau-pinga_. The performers amused

themselves by making a variety of ludicrous faces and grimaces at each

other, to see who could excite the other to laugh first. Thus they

whiled away the hours of night till the days of mourning were

expired.[161] So long as the funeral ceremonies and feasts lasted no

work might be done in the village, and no strangers might approach it.

The neighbouring lagoon and reefs were taboo: no canoe might pass over

the lagoon anywhere near the village, and no man might fish in it or on

the reef.[162] For a chief or man of distinction fires were kept burning

day and night in a line from the house to the grave; these fires were

maintained for ten days after the funeral. The reason assigned for this

custom, according to Ella, was to keep away evil spirits. Even common

people observed a similar custom. After burial they kept a fire blazing

in the house all night, and they were careful to clear the intervening

ground so that a stream of light went forth from the house to the grave.

The account which the Samoans gave of the custom, according to Turner,

was that it was merely a light burning in honour of the departed, and a

mark of their tender regard for him. Dr. George Brown believed that the

original motive for the custom was to warm the ghost, and probably at

the same time to protect the mourners against dangerous spirits.[163]

[160] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 146

[161] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 183 _sq._

[162] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp.

149 _sq._; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 642; G. Brown, _Melanesians

and Polynesians_, pp. 403 _sq._

[163] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 149; S. Ella, _op. cit._

pp. 640 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 402.

The head was deemed a very sacred part, and in olden days the bodies of

chiefs were often buried near their houses until decomposition had set

in, when the head was cut off and interred in some family burying-place

inland, to save it from insult in time of war. This interment of the

head was accompanied with feasts, dances, and sham-fights. The skull was

borne to the appointed place on a kind of stage, attended by a troop of

armed men. With these sham-fights Dr. George Brown, who records the

custom, compares the sham-fights which used to take place among the

Melanesians of the Duke of York Island when the body of a chief was laid

on a high platform in front of his house, one company of warriors

striving to deposit the corpse on the platform, while their adversaries

attempted to prevent them from doing so.[164] The meaning of these

curious sham-fights is obscure. Perhaps the attacking party represented

a band of evil spirits, who endeavoured to snatch away the chief's

body, but were defeated in the nefarious attempt.

[164] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 388

_sq._, 404 _sq._

One or two families of chiefs in the island of Upolu used to practise a

rude kind of embalming. The work was done exclusively by women. The

viscera having been removed and buried, the women anointed the body

daily with a mixture of oil and aromatic juices. To let the fluids

escape, they punctured the body all over with fine needles. Finally,

wads of native cloth, saturated with oil or resinous gums, were inserted

in the abdomen, the apertures were closed up, and the body wrapt in

native cloth. The face, hands, and feet were left exposed, and were

repeatedly anointed with oil, mixed with turmeric powder, to give a

fresh and life-like appearance to the mummy. The whole process lasted

about two months. On its completion the mummy was placed in a house

built specially for the purpose, where, loosely covered with a sheet of

native cloth, it rested on a raised platform. Strangers were freely

admitted to see it. Four of these mummies, laid out in a house, were to

be seen down to about the year 1864. They were the bodies of a chief,

his wife, and two sons. Dr. George Turner judged that they must have

been embalmed upwards of thirty years, and although they had been

exposed all that time, they were in a remarkably good state of

preservation. The people assigned no particular reason for the practice,

further than that it sprang from an affectionate desire to keep the

bodies of their departed friends with them, as if they were still

alive.[165]

[165] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 148 _sq._; S. Ella, _op.

cit._ p. 641; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 184 _sq._; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 405.

Sec. 11. _The Fate of the Human Soul after Death_

With regard to the fate of human souls after death the Samoans appear to

have believed in their immortality, or at all events in their indefinite

survival. On this subject Dr. Brown observes: "All souls survived after

death, and so far as I know they had no idea of their dying a second

death or being destroyed. I do not think that a Samoan could give any

reason for his belief that the soul does not perish with the body, but

he certainly does believe this, and I never heard any one question

the fact."[166] Thus, according to Dr. Brown the Samoans, unlike the

Tongans, drew no invidious distinction between the souls of noblemen and

the souls of commoners, but liberally opened the doors of immortality to

gentle and simple alike. So far, they carried their republican or

democratic spirit into the world beyond the grave.

[166] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 220

_sq._

However, according to the American ethnologist, Horatio Hale, some of

the Samoans agreed with the Tongans in taking an aristocratic view of

the destiny of souls after death; and as he had good opportunities for

acquainting himself with the Samoan religion during the prolonged stay

of the American Exploring Expedition at Samoa in 1839, when the islands

were as yet but little affected by European influence, I will quote his

account. He says: "All believe in the existence of a large island,

situated far to the north-west called _Pulotu_, which is the residence

of the gods. Some suppose that while the souls of the common people

perish with their bodies, those of the chiefs are received into this

island, which is described as a terrestrial elysium, and become there

inferior divinities. Others hold (according to Mr. Heath) that the

spirits of the departed live and work in a dark subterraneous abode, and

are eaten by the gods. A third, and very common opinion is, that the

souls of all who die on an island, make their way to the western

extremity, where they plunge into the sea; but what then becomes of them

is not stated. The rock from which they leap, in the island of Upolu,

was pointed out to us; the natives term it '_Fatu-asofia_,' which was

rendered the 'jumping-off stone.'"[167]

[167] H. Hale, _Ethnography and Philology of the United

States Exploring Expedition_, p. 27.

Of these various opinions described by Hale the third would seem to have

been by far the most prevalent. It was commonly believed that the

disembodied spirit retained the exact resemblance of its former self, by

which we are probably to understand the exact resemblance of its former

body. Immediately on quitting its earthly tabernacle it began its

solitary journey to Fafa, which was the subterranean abode of the dead,

lying somewhere to the west of Savaii, the most westerly island of the

group. Thus, if a man died in Manua, the most easterly of the islands,

his soul would journey to the western end of that island, then dive into

the sea and swim across to Tutuila. There it would walk along the beach

to the extreme westerly point of the island, when it would again plunge

into the sea and swim across to the next island, and so on to the most

westerly cape of Savaii, where it finally dived into the ocean and

pursued its way to the mysterious Fafa.[168]

[168] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 218 _sq._ Compare

G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 257; S. Ella, _op. cit._ pp. 643 _sq._

At the western end of Savaii, near the village of Falealupo, there are

two circular openings among the rocks, not far from the beach. Down

these two openings the souls of the dead were supposed to go on their

passage to the spirit-world. The souls of chiefs went down the larger of

the openings, and the souls of common people went down the smaller. Near

the spot stood a coco-nut tree, and if a passing soul chanced to collide

with it, the soul could not proceed farther, but returned to its body.

When a man recovered from a deep swoon, his friends supposed that his

soul had been arrested in its progress to the other world by knocking

against the coco-nut tree, and they rejoiced, saying, "He has come back

from the tree of the Watcher," for that was the name by which the

coco-nut tree was known. So firmly did the people of the neighbourhood

believe in the passage of the souls near their houses, that at night

they kept down the blinds to exclude the ghosts.[169] The "jumping-off

stone" at the west end of Upolu was also dreaded on account of the

passing ghosts. The place is a narrow rocky cape. The Samoans were much

astonished when a Christian native boldly built himself a house on the

haunted spot.[170] According to one account, the souls of the dead had

not to make their way through the chain of islands by the slow process

of walking and swimming, but were at once transported to the western end

of Savaii by a band of spirits, who hovered over the house of the dying

man, and catching up his parting spirit conveyed it in a straight

course westward.[171]

[169] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 257 _sq._; S. Ella, _op.

cit._ pp. 643 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p.

221.

[170] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 219.

[171] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 257; S. Ella, _op. cit._

p. 643.

The place down which the spirits of the dead were supposed to descend to

the nether world was called by a native name (_Lua[=o]_), which means

"hollow pit." "May you go rumbling down the hollow pit" was a common

form of cursing. At the bottom of the pit was a running stream which

floated the spirits away to Pulotu. All alike, the handsome and the

ugly, old and young, chiefs and commoners, drifted pell-mell on the

current in a dazed, semi-conscious state, till they came to Pulotu.

There they bathed in "the Water of Life" and recovered all their old

life and vigour. Infirmity of every kind fled away; even the aged became

young again. The underworld of Pulotu was conceived on the model of our

upper world. There, as here, were heavens and earth and sea, fruits and

flowers; there the souls of the dead planted and fished and cooked;

there they married and were given in marriage, all after the manner of

life on earth.[172]

[172] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 258 _sq._; G. Brown,

_Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 222.

However, it appears that according to a widespread belief the world of

the dead was sharply discriminated into two regions, to wit, an Elysium

or place of bliss called Pulotu, and a Tartarus or place of woe named

S[=a]-le-Fe'e. The title for admission to one or other of these places

was not moral worth but social rank, chiefs going to Elysium and

commoners to Tartarus. The idea of the superiority of the chiefs to the

common people was thus perpetuated in the land of the dead.[173] The

king of the lower regions was a certain Saveasiuleo, that is, Savea of

the Echo. He reclined in a house in the company of the chiefs who

gathered round him: the upper part of his body was human, the lower part

was like that of a fish and stretched away into the sea. This royal

house of assembly was supported by the erect bodies of chiefs, who had

been of high rank on earth, and who, before they died, anticipated with

pride the honour they were to enjoy by serving as pillars in the temple

of the King of Pulotu.[174]

[173] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 217 _sq._; G.

Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 221. On the question

whether the Samoans held a doctrine of moral retribution after

death, Dr. Brown observes: "I do not remember any statement to

the effect that the conduct of a man in this life affected his

state after death. They certainly believe this now, but whether

they did so prior to the introduction of Christianity I cannot

definitely say. I am inclined, however, to believe that they did

not believe that conduct in this life affected them in the

future" (_Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 261 _sq._).

Elsewhere, however, Dr. Brown seems to express a contrary

opinion. He says: "It was generally understood that the

conditions of men in this life, even amongst the common people,

had an effect on their future conditions. A good man in Samoa

generally meant a liberal man, one who was generous and

hospitable; whilst a bad man was one who was mean, selfish, and

greedy about food" (_op. cit._ p. 222).

[174] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 259 _sq._; S. Ella, _op.

cit._ p. 644.

But the souls of the dead were not permanently confined to the lower

world. They could return to the land of the living by night to hold

converse with members of their families, to warn and instruct them in

dreams, and to foretell the future. They could cause disease and death

by entering into the bodies of their enemies and even of their friends,

and they produced nightmare by sitting on the chests of sleepers. They

haunted some houses and especially burying-grounds. Their apparitions

were visible to the living and were greatly dreaded; people tried to

drive them away by shouts, noises, and the firing of guns. But the

ghosts had to return to the nether world at daybreak. It was because

they feared the spirits of the dead that the Samoans took such great

pains to propitiate dying people with presents; this they did above all

to persons whom they had injured, because they had most reason to dread

the anger of their ghosts.[175] However, the souls of the departed were

also thought of in a more amiable light; they could help as well as harm

mankind. Hence prayers were commonly offered at the grave of a parent, a

brother, or a chief. The suppliant, for example, might pray for health

in sickness; or, if he were of a malignant turn, he might implore the

ghost to compass the death of some person at whom he bore a grudge. Thus

we are told that a woman prayed for the death of her brother, and he

died accordingly.[176] In such beliefs and practices we have, as I have

already observed, the essential elements of a regular worship of the

dead. Whether the Samoans were on the way to evolve such a religion or,

as Dr. George Brown preferred to suppose,[177] had left it behind them

and made some progress towards a higher faith, we hardly possess the

means of determining.

[175] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 259; S. Ella, _op. cit._

p. 644; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp.

219, 221, 222.

[176] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 151.

[177] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 245,

282.

But while the Samoans thought that the dead return to earth to make or

mar the living, they did not believe that the spirits come back to be

born again in the form of men or animals or to occupy inanimate bodies;

in other words they had no belief in the transmigration of souls.[178]

The absence of such a belief is significant in view of Dr. Rivers's

suggestion that Melanesian totemism may have been evolved out of a

doctrine of metempsychosis, human souls being supposed to pass at death

into their totem animals or plants.[179] We have seen that the Samoan

system of family, village, and district gods bears strong marks of

having been developed out of totemism; and if their totemism had in turn

been developed out of a doctrine of transmigration, we should expect to

find among them a belief that the souls of the dead appeared in the

shape of the animals, plants, or other natural objects which were

regarded as the embodiments of their family, village, or district gods.

But of such a belief there is seemingly no trace. It appears, therefore,

unlikely that Samoan totemism was based on a doctrine of transmigration.

Similarly we have seen reason to think that the Tongan worship of

animals may have sprung from totemism, though according to the best

authorities that worship was not connected with a theory of

metempsychosis.[180] Taken together, the Samoan and the Tongan systems

seem to show that, if totemism ever flourished among the Polynesians, it

had not its roots in a worship of the dead.

[178] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 221,

"They had no belief in the transmigration of souls either into

animals, inert bodies, or into different human bodies."

[179] W. H. R. Rivers, _The History of Melanesian

Society_, ii. 358 _sqq._

[180] See above, pp. 92 _sqq._

The Belief in Immortality and the Worship of the Dead, Volume 2 (of 3) The Belief Among the Polynesians · 第 6 / 12 章