NATIVE CULTURE IN PRE-CHRISTIAN TIMES
_Sources of Information_: History, Recent Remains, Living Memory—_Mode
of Life_: Habitations, Food, Dress and Ornament—_Social Life_:
Divisions, Wars, Marriages, Burial Customs, Social Functions.
It has been seen that any knowledge which exists on the island with
regard to the origin of the monuments is of the most vague description,
and it is therefore necessary, in the attempt to solve the problem, to
rely principally on indirect evidence. It becomes in particular
essential to collect all possible information about the present people;
not only for its intrinsic anthropological interest, but in order to
find if any links connect them with the great builders, or if we must
look for an earlier race.
As a first step in the search the scientist naturally turns to the most
ancient accounts which he can find describing the island, its
inhabitants, and remains; these are not yet two hundred years old. The
first European to see it was a Dutch Admiral named Roggeveen, who came
upon it on Easter Day, 1722, during his search for another and
mysterious island known as Davis or David’s Island.[25] He concluded
that it was not the place for which he was looking, christened it Easter
Island, and went further afield. His ship lay off the north side of the
island for a week, but only on one day did landing take place, and one
or two of the party have left us short descriptions. There were, they
say, no big trees, but it had a rich soil and good climate; there were
sugar-cane, bananas, potatoes and figs, and the natives brought them a
number of fowls, estimated varyingly from sixty to five hundred. One of
the voyagers goes so far as to say that “all the country was under
cultivation.” As for the inhabitants, they were, they tell us, of all
shades of colour, yellow, white, and brown, and wore clothes made of a
“field product,” evidently tapa. They were “painted,” which apparently
signifies tattooed, and it was the habit to distend the lobes of their
ears so that they hung to the shoulders, and large discs were worn in
them. “When these Indians,” wrote Roggeveen, “go about any job which
might set their ear-plugs wagging, and bid fair to do them any hurt,
they take them out and hitch the rim of the lobe up over the top of the
ear, which gives them a quaint and laughable appearance.”[26]
The natives were extraordinarily thievish, stealing the caps from the
seamen’s heads, while one actually climbed into the port-hole of the
cabin and took the cloth off the table. These habits gave rise to an
unfortunate incident, as when the visitors came on shore, a scuffle took
place over the sanctity of property, and the natives began throwing
stones, on which a petty official gave the order to fire, ten or twelve
natives being killed. The occurrence, however, was duly explained, and
did not terminate amicable relations. We learn that at this time the
great statues, of which this is of course the first report, were then,
as has already been noted, standing and in place. The Dutchmen describe
them as “remarkable, tall, stone figures, a good 30 feet in height,” and
notice that they have crowns on their heads; a clear space was, they
said, reserved round them by laying stones. They have no doubt that the
figures are objects of worship; the natives “kindle fires in front of
them, and thereafter squatting on their heels with heads bowed down,
they bring the palms of their hands together and alternately raise and
lower them.” Another observer adds, in connection with this worship,
that they “prostrated themselves towards the rising sun.” A great step
would have been gained towards the solution of the problem if we could
feel assured that these last remarks were justified and were not merely
the result of imperfect observation.[27]
For fifty years darkness once more descends on the history of the
island. Then, within a period of sixteen years, it was visited by three
expeditions, Spanish, English, and French respectively. The Spanish were
under the command of Gonzalez.[28] They too were searching for David’s
Island when, in 1770, they touched at Easter, and they also came to the
conclusion that it was not their goal. They took, however, formal
possession of it, and named it San Carlos. Their ships lay at anchor in
the same place as had those of Roggeveen, the bay on the north coast now
called after La Pérouse. From this anchorage three curious hillocks on
the northern slope of the great eastern volcano form striking objects
(fig. 78); on each of these they planted a cross, and proclaimed the
King of Spain with banners flying, beating of drums, and artillery
salutes. The natives appear to have thoroughly enjoyed the proceedings,
and “confirmed them,” according to the solemn statements of the
Spaniards, by marking the official document with their own script. This
is the first that we hear of a form of native writing. The expedition
sent a boat round the island, which made a very creditable map of it.
Four years later Cook cast anchor on the west side in the bay which is
known by his name. He was there three days and did not himself explore
inland, but his officers did so, including the elder Forster, the
botanist of the expedition, and his account of what they saw was
published by his son.[29]
In 1780 La Pérouse anchored in the same place, and also sent some of his
men inland, who covered partly, but not entirely, the same districts as
those of Cook.[30]
As these expeditions were so nearly of the same date, their remarks may
fairly be compared and contrasted with those made by Roggeveen half a
century earlier. All three give very similar descriptions of the people,
their appearance and dwellings, which also resemble the accounts of the
Dutch. Cook is very much impressed with the long ears, though La Pérouse
does not refer to them. There is the same story of the native powers of
appropriating the goods of the strangers. Cook says that they were “as
expert thieves as any we had yet met with,” and Pérouse, whose own hat
they stole while helping him down one of the image platforms, is
particularly aggrieved at such conduct, considering that he has given
them sheep, goats, pigs, and other valuable presents; peace was only
kept between the crew and the natives by official compensation being
given the seamen for their lost property.
Here, however, the resemblance of these accounts with that of Roggeveen
ends. The descriptions which are given by these later expeditions of the
state of the country, and its facilities as a port of call, are very
different from those of the Dutchmen. The Spaniards speak of it as being
uncultivated save for some small plots of ground. The Englishmen are the
reverse of enthusiastic. Forster calls it a “poor land,” and Cook says
that “no nation need contend for the honour of the discovery of this
island, as there can be few places which afford less convenience for
shipping.” “Poultry” now consists of only a “few tame fowls”—later still
we find that only one is produced. Pérouse, although he is not so
depressed as Cook, tells us that only one-tenth of the land is
cultivated. With regard to the population Roggeveen gives no number, and
probably was not in a position to do so. The estimates made by the
Spanish and English are very similar. Gonzalez puts it at nine hundred
to one thousand, Cook at seven hundred; both of them, however, state
that the number of women seen seemed to be disproportionately small. La
Pérouse, writing of course some years later, speaks of the number as two
thousand and has seen many women and children. Both English and French
are interested to find that the language is similar to that spoken
elsewhere in the Pacific.
Again, in dealing with the state of the monuments and the way in which
they were regarded, the impressions of the later observers differ
greatly from those of Roggeveen. The Spaniards do not tell us very much.
They saw from the sea what they thought were bushes symmetrically put up
on the beach, and dotted about inland; later they found that they were
in reality statues, and they wondered particularly how their crowns,
which they observed were of a different material, were raised into
place. It was one of the Spanish officers who states, as recorded at the
beginning of this book, that the seashore was lined with stone
idols,[31] from which it may be gathered that the great majority were
still erect. The figures were, they tell us, all set up on small stones,
and burying-places were in front. It is interesting, in view of what we
know of the prohibition of smoke near the ahu,[32] to find one of the
Spanish writing: “They could not bear us to smoke cigars; they begged
our sailors to extinguish them, and they did so. I asked one of them the
reason, and he made signs that the smoke went upwards; but I do not know
what this meant.”[33] Cook’s people observed that the natives disliked
these burying-places being walked over, but whereas Roggeveen was
convinced, whether rightly or wrongly, that the cult of the statues was
what we should call “a going concern,” Cook, fifty years later, is
equally certain that it is a thing of the past; some of the figures are
still standing, but some are fallen down, and the inhabitants “do not
even trouble to repair the foundations of those which are going to
decay.” “The giant statues,” he says, “are not in my opinion looked upon
as idols by the present inhabitants, whatever they may have been in the
days of the Dutch.” Forster also remarks that “they are so
disproportionate to the strength of the nation, it is most reasonable to
look upon them as the remains of better times.” La Pérouse does not
agree with this last sentiment; he admits that at present the monuments
are not respected, but he sees no reason why they should not still be
made even under existing conditions; he thinks that a hundred people
would be sufficient to put one of the statues in place. The objection he
sees is that the people have no chief great enough to secure such a
memorial. It is unfortunate that the mountain of Rano Raraku is so far
removed from both the north and west anchorages, that none of the
voyagers discovered it, although Cook’s men were very near that from
which the crowns were obtained.
[Illustration:
FIG. 82.
[_Drawn from Nature by W. Hodges._
MONUMENTS IN EASTER ISLAND.
From _A Voyage Towards the South Pole_, James Cook, 1777, vol. i.,
part of pl. xlix.
The artist has not observed the features or arms of the images, nor
that they stand on stone platforms. The hats, as shown, greatly
exceed their true proportion to the figures. The picture has
probably been redrawn from memory.
]
In the nineteenth century we have a few accounts from passing voyagers.
Lisiansky, in 1804, found no people with long ears,[34] but in 1825
Beechey in H.M.S. _Blossom_ says that there were still a few to be seen.
With regard to the statues, the process of demolition has gone so far
that Beechey declares “the existence of any busts is doubtful.”[35] It
is amusing to find, a hundred years after Roggeveen’s similar
experience, that the _Blossom_ has an affray with natives over the
stealing of caps. While attention has been drawn to the importance of
these early narratives, it must be remembered that all the visits were
of very short duration, and that the old voyagers were not trained
observers. The Dutchmen, for instance, deliberately tell us that the
statues have no arms. The accounts frequently give the impression of
being written up afterwards from somewhat vague recollection, and in
most cases the narrators have read those of their predecessors and go
prepared to see certain things. One navigator who never landed assures
us that the houses are the same as in the days of La Pérouse. On the
other hand, with regard to the stores available, they are, so to speak,
on their own quarter-deck, and their remarks can be accepted without
question.
In the “sixties” of last century the great series of changes took place
which brought Easter Island into touch with the modern world. The first
of these largely broke those chains with the past which the archæologist
now seeks to reconstruct. Labour was needed by the exploiters of the
Peruvian guano fields, and an attempt which was made to introduce it
from China having failed, slave-raids were organised in the South Sea
Islands. As early as 1805 Easter had suffered similarly at the hands of
American sealers, and it was amongst the principal islands to be laid
under contribution in December 1862.
It is pathetic even now to hear the old men describe the scenes which
they witnessed in their youth, illustrating by action how the raiders
threw down on the ground gifts which they thought likely to attract the
inhabitants, and, when the islanders were on their knees scrambling for
them, tied their hands behind their backs and carried them off to the
waiting ship. The natives say that one thousand in all were so removed
from the island, and, unfortunately, there were amongst them some of the
principal men, including many of the most learned, and the last of the
ariki, or chiefs. Representations were made by the French Minister at
Lima, and a certain number were put on board ship to be returned to
their home. Smallpox, however, had been contracted by them, and out of
one hundred who were to be repatriated, only fifteen survived. These, on
their return to the island, brought the disease with them, which spread
rapidly with most fatal results to the population.
Meantime, shortly before the raid, the attention of the Roman Catholic
“Congregation of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and Mary” in Valparaiso had
been drawn to the island by the account received from a passing ship,
and they determined to inaugurate a mission. Three of the Community left
for Easter Island, their route taking them by way of Tahiti. Finally,
only one continued, Eugène Eyraud, who landed on the island in January
1864. Eyraud was a lay brother in the Order, having been a merchant in
South America; he devoted his life to the call to take the Gospel to
Easter, and the accounts of his work, which are extraordinarily
interesting, leave a great impression of his courage and devotion.[36]
He was alone on the island for eight or nine months, and was at the
mercy of the natives, who stole his belongings, even to the clothes he
was wearing, and compelled him to make a boat for them. In March 1866,
Eyraud, after a visit to Chile, returned with another missionary, Father
Roussel, and the two were for a while blockaded in a house which they
had put up, but the tide now turned. Either Roussel was a man of greater
determination than Eyraud, or with increased numbers a firmer attitude
was possible. Surgeon Palmer of H.M.S. _Topaze_ tells us that when one
of the natives took up a stone with a menacing gesture, Roussel quietly
felled him with his stick and went on his way, after which there was no
further trouble. The missionaries were joined later in the year by two
more of their number, and became a power in the land.
Eyraud on his return from Chile was suffering from phthisis, of which he
died in August 1868. When he was nearing his end he asked Roussel if
there still remained any heathen in the island, to which the Father
replied “not one”; the last seven had been baptized on the Feast of the
Assumption. It seems natural to connect with Eyraud’s illness the fact
that there was at the same time a severe epidemic of phthisis in the
island; so little was the need of precaution understood at this date,
that even Surgeon Palmer, writing of the inroads made by consumption,
remarks “which they (the natives) believe infectious.”[37] The ravages
of this disease, following on those of smallpox, reduced the population,
which at the time of the arrival of the mission had stood at twelve
hundred, by about one-fourth.
The remarks of the missionaries on native customs, particularly those
dealing with their ceremonies, reflect credit on the observers at a time
when such things were too often thought beneath notice; they will be
referred to later. Their ethnological work was, however, limited by more
pressing exigencies, by the difficulties of locomotion on the island,
and by the language. Roussel compiled a vocabulary, which is useful to
students, though not free from the mode of thought found in a well-known
missionary dictionary, which translates hansom cab into the Swahili
language. It is a curious fact that so completely were the terraces now
ruined that the Fathers never allude to the statues, and seem scarcely
to have realised their existence; but it is through them that we first
hear of the wooden tablets carved with figures. The body of professors
acquainted with this art of writing perished, either in Peru or by
epidemic, and this, in connection with the introduction of Christianity,
led to great destruction of the existing specimens of this most
interesting script. The natives said that they burnt the tablets in
compliance with the orders of the missionaries, though such suggestion
would hardly be needed in a country where wood is scarce; the Fathers,
on the contrary, state that it was due to them that any were preserved.
Some certainly were saved by their means and through the interest shown
in them by Bishop Jaussen of Tahiti, while two or three found their way
to museums after the natives became aware of their value; but some or
all of these existing tablets are merely fragments of the original. The
natives told us that an expert living on the south coast, whose house
had been full of such glyphs, abandoned them at the call of the
missionaries, on which a man named Niari, being of a practical mind, got
hold of the discarded tablets and made a boat of them wherein he caught
much fish. When the “sewing came out,” he stowed the wood into a cave at
an ahu near Hanga Roa, to be made later into a new vessel there.
Pakarati, an islander now living, found a piece, and it was acquired by
the U.S.A. ship _Mohican_.
Side by side with the establishment of the religious power the secular
had come into being. The master of the ship who had brought the last two
missionaries was a certain Captain Dutrou Bornier. He had been attracted
by the place, and, having made financial arrangements with the
mercantile house of Brander in Tahiti, settled himself on the island and
proceeded to exploit it commercially. Title-deeds were obtained from the
natives in exchange for gifts of woven material. The remaining
population was gathered together into one settlement at Hanga Roa, the
native name for the shore of Cook’s Bay. This was the state of things
when H.M.S. _Topaze_ touched in 1868 and carried off the two statues now
at the British Museum.
Dutrou Bornier had at first spoken enthusiastically of the work of the
missionaries; later, however, the not unknown struggle arose between the
religious and secular powers. According to the accounts of the
missionaries, they protested against the actions of Bornier in taking
over two hundred natives, practically by force, and shipping them to
Tahiti to work on the Brander plantations. Bornier retaliated by
rendering their position impossible, and the Fathers ultimately received
orders to transfer their labours to the Gambier islands. Jaussen tells
us that their converts desired to accompany them, and that almost the
whole population went on board with them. The captain, however,
instigated by Bornier, refused to carry so many, and one hundred and
seventy-five were sent back to the shore. This, therefore, “was the
whole population” in 1871. We have not Bornier’s account of the quarrel,
but there seems to have been some justification for the attitude of the
missionaries towards him, as five years later he was murdered by the
natives, and, if current stories are to be believed, his end was well
merited.
Subsequently one of the Branders lived at Mataveri, and Mr. Alexander
Salmon, to whom the missionaries sold their interests, at Vaihu on the
south coast.[38] The Salmon family had intermarried with the royal
family of Tahiti, and the new resident was well aware of the value of
antiquities. According to native accounts he organised a band to search
the caves and hiding-places for articles of interest. They also state
that he employed skilled natives to produce wooden objects connected
with their older culture for sale to passing ships. He spoke the
language of the island, and when the U.S.S. _Mohican_ arrived in 1886,
he was the source of much of the information which they subsequently
published. It is an important but difficult matter to know how far the
material thus gleaned thirty years ago was carefully obtained and
reproduced. One or two of the folk-tales are still told very much as
retailed by Salmon, but he appears to have taken little interest in the
surviving customs and failed to understand them. The report of the
_Mohican_, made by Paymaster Thomson, has been the only account of the
island in existence with any pretention to scientific value.[39] The
_Mohican_ was there eleven days, and Thomson went rapidly round the
island with a party from the ship. The amount of ground covered and work
done is remarkable, although his statements are naturally not free from
the errors inseparable from such rapid observation.
In 1888 the Chilean Government formally took possession. In 1897 M.
Merlet, of Valparaiso, purchased from the representatives of Brander,
Bornier, and Salmon, their interest in Easter Island, with the exception
of a tract of land containing the village of Hanga Roa, which the
Chilean Government acquired from the missionaries and retained in the
interest of the inhabitants; this land covers a far larger space than
the natives are able to utilise. The population is again increasing, as
will have been seen from the fact that during our visit they numbered
two hundred and fifty. M. Merlet subsequently sold his holding to a
company, of which he became chairman.
Easter Island has had many names. That given by the Dutchman has become
generally accepted, but the Spaniards christened it San Carlos, and in
some maps it is termed “Waihu,” a name of a part of the island
erroneously understood as applying to the whole. A native name is Te
Pito-te-henua, “_henua_” means usually “earth” and “_pito_” “navel.”[40]
Thomson says it was ascribed to the first comers. Elsewhere in the
Pacific “_pito_” also means “end.” Churchill holds the name signified
simply “Land’s End,” and was applied to all these angles of the island,
which was itself without a name.[41] Rapa-nui (or Great Rapa) is another
native name for which various explanations are offered. The island of
Rapa, sometimes known as Rapa-iti, lies some two thousand miles to the
westward, Thomson states that the name Rapa-nui only dates from the time
when the men kidnapped by the Peruvians were being returned to their
homes. The Easter Islanders, finding no one knew the name Te
Pito-te-henua, and that some comrades in distress from the other Rapa
managed to make their place of origin understood, called their own home
Rapa-nui; a story which sounds hardly probable, but was presumably
obtained from Salmon.
According to the report of H.M.S. _Topaze_, the Islanders of their day
believed that Rapa was their original home. Others state the name was
given by a visitor from that island.
The brief accounts which have been referred to are all that is known
from external evidence of the original life of the present people, and
but little hope was held out to us in England that those fragments could
still be supplemented. There were found, however, to be still in
existence two possible sources of information, namely, the memories of
old inhabitants, and the actual traces which still remain of the life
led by the people previous to the Peruvian raid and the coming of
Christianity. The great ahu which have so far been described are only a
part, although the most imposing portion, of the stone remains of the
island. It is fortunate for the student that when civilisation appeared
the natives were gathered into one settlement, for they left behind
them, sprinkled over the island, various erections connected with their
original domestic life. These buildings were certainly being used in
recent times, and are treated from this point of view, but for all we
know they may have been, and very possibly were, contemporary with the
great works.
The study of the remains on the island, from the greatest to the least,
is by no means so simple as may hitherto have appeared. Our earliest
attempts at descriptions, although conscientious, were almost ludicrous
in the light of subsequent knowledge, and Captain Beechey’s error on the
subject of “the busts” is at least comprehensible. Easter, it must be
remembered, is a mass of disintegrating rocks. When in an idle moment
the Expedition amused itself by inventing an heraldic design for the
island, it was universally agreed that the main emblem must undoubtedly
be a “stone,” “and as supporters,” suggested one frivolous member, “two
cockroaches rampant.” The most correct representation would be a stone
vertical on a stone horizontal. Every individual who has lived, even
temporarily, in the place, has collected stones and put them up
according to taste; and every succeeding generation, also needing
stones, has, as in the instance of the manager’s wall, found them most
readily in ruining or converting the work of their predecessors. Even
when a building is comparatively intact, the original design and purpose
can only be grasped by experience, and matters become distinctly
complicated when the walls of an ahu have been made into a garden
enclosure and a chicken-house turned into an ossuary. It must be
remembered also that rough stone buildings bear in themselves no marks
of age. The cairns put up by us to mark the distances for rifle fire
from the camp were indistinguishable from those of prehistoric nature
made for a very different purpose. The result is that the tumble-down
remains of yesterday, and the scenes of unknown antiquity blend together
in a confusing whole in which it is not always easy to distinguish even
the works of nature from those of man.
The other source of information which was open to us was the memory of
the old people. If but little was known of the great works, it was
possible that there might still linger knowledge of customs or folk lore
which would throw indirect light on origins. This field proved to be
astonishingly large, but it was even more difficult to collect facts
from brains than out of stones. On our arrival there were still a few
old people who were sufficiently grown up in the sixties to recall
something of the old life; with the great majority of these, about a
dozen in number, we gradually got in touch, beginning with those who
worked for Mr. Edmunds and hearing from them of others. It was momentous
work, for the eleventh hour was striking, day by day they were dropping
off; it was a matter of anxious consideration whose testimony should
first be recorded for fear that, meanwhile, others should be gathered to
their fathers, and their store of knowledge lost for ever. Against the
longer recollection of extreme old age, had to be put the fact that the
memories of those a little younger were generally more clear and
accurate. The feeling of responsibility from a scientific point of view
was very great. Ten years ago more could have been done; ten years hence
little or nothing will remain of this source of knowledge.
Most happily, these authorities were in almost every case willing and
ready to talk, and our debt to them is great. They came with us, as has
been seen, on our explorations of the island, but the greater part of
the work was done when we were living near the village. Some of them
took pleasure in coming up to Mataveri and talking in the veranda,
enjoying still more, no doubt, the practical outcome of their subsequent
visits to Bailey’s domain—the kitchen. Others were more at ease in their
own surroundings, and then we went down to the village and discussed old
days in their little banana-plots, while interested neighbours came in
to join the fray. Sometimes a man did better by himself, but on other
occasions to get two or three together stimulated conversation.
Unfortunately, some of the old men who knew most were confined to the
leper settlement some three miles north of Hanga Roa, and the infectious
power of leprosy was not a subject which we had got up before leaving
England. The Captain of the _Kildalton_ feared lest even the distance of
the settlement from the Manager’s house might not suffice to prevent the
plague being carried there by insects, and told a gruesome tale, within
his knowledge, of two white men who had gone for a visit to a Pacific
island, one of whom on their return to an American port had been
immediately sent back to a leper colony. But how could one allow the
last vestige of knowledge in Easter Island to die out without an effort?
So I went, disinfected my clothes on return, studied, must it be
confessed, my fingers and toes, and hoped for the best.
It would not be easy for a foreigner to reconstruct English society
fifty years ago, even from the descriptions of well-educated old men: it
is particularly difficult to arrive at the truth from the untutored
mind. Even when the natives knew well what they were talking about, they
would forget to mention some part of the story, which to them was
self-evident, but at which the humble European could not be expected to
guess. The bird story, for example, had for many months been wrestled
with before it transpired precisely what was meant by the “first egg.”
Deliberate invention was rare, but, when memory was a little vague,
there was a constant tendency to glide from what was remembered to what
was imagined. Scientific work of this nature really ought to qualify for
a high position at the bar. The witness had to be heard, and discreetly
cross-examined without any doubt being thrown on his story, which would
at once have given offence; then allowed to forget and again
re-examined, his story being compared with that of others who had been
heard meanwhile. Counsel had also to be judge and to act as reporter,
and at the same time keep the witness amused and prevent the interpreter
from being bored, or the court would promptly have broken up. Though
great care has been exercised, it must be remembered, when a particular
account is quoted, as, for example, that of Te Haha regarding the annual
inspection of the tablets, while it is believed to rest on fact, its
absolute accuracy cannot be guaranteed.
[Illustration:
FIG. 83.
HÉ.
Clan Marama.
]
[Illustration:
VIRIAMO.
Clan Ureohei.
]
[Illustration:
TE HAHA.
Clan Miru.
]
[Illustration:
JUAN TEPANO.
Clan Tupahotu.
]
The language question naturally added to the difficulty. On landing two
courses had been open, either to go on with Spanish, of which the
younger men had a certain knowledge, and which was used by Mr. Edmunds,
or to try to get some hold of the native tongue. The latter plan was
decided on, and though at one time the difficulties seemed so great that
this course was almost regretted, in the end it was vindicated. There
is, as stated, a vocabulary in French made by the missionaries, and also
one in Spanish, but there is no grammar of any kind. The French
carpenter, Varta, was some assistance, particularly at the beginning.
The first steps were the easiest. The Kanakas were much interested in my
endeavours, and rushed round wildly, bringing any object they could lay
hands on in order to teach its name; but even with the nouns an
unexpected complication arose. The natives speak, not only their own
language, but, side by side with it, that of Tahiti, which is used in
their religious books and services; there are affinities between the
two, but they are quite dissimilar, and to understand conversation it
was necessary to learn both. This very much prolonged the task, and also
lessened the results obtained.
The next stage, the putting together of sentences, was still more
difficult. How was it possible to talk in a language which had no verb
“to be”? I had, it is true, a native maid (fig. 29), but, after the
simplest phrases had been learnt, topics for conversation were difficult
to find. We looked through illustrated magazines together, but wild
beasts, railway trains, and the greater part of the pictures of all
kinds, conveyed nothing to her. The plan was therefore hit on of a tale,
after the manner of the _Arabian Nights_, dealing with imaginary events
on the island; it was very weird, but served its purpose, though there
were initial difficulties. The heroine, for instance, was christened
“Maria,” but “there were,” Parapina said, “three Marias on the island.
Which was it?” and it was long before she grasped, if indeed she ever
did so entirely, that the lady was imaginary. A certain sequence of
events was somehow made intelligible to her. She was then induced to
repeat the story, while it was taken down. It was copied out and next
day read again to her for further correction. Every word and idea gained
was a help in understanding local names and the native point of view.
Before the end, in addition to using the language for the ordinary
affairs of life, it was found possible to get simple answers direct from
the old men, and understand first-hand much of what they said.
Any real success in intercourse was, however, due to the intelligence of
one individual who was known as Juan Tepano. He was a younger man about
forty years of age, a full-blooded Kanaka, but had served his time in
the Chilean army, and thus had seen something of men and manners; he
talked a little pidgin English, which was a help in the earlier stages,
but before the end he and I were able to understand each other entirely
in Kanaka, and he made clear to the old men anything I wished to know,
and explained their answers to me. It was interesting to notice how his
perception gradually grew of what truth and accuracy meant, and he
finally assumed the attitude of watch-dog to prevent my being imposed
on. Happily, it was discovered that he was able to draw, and he took
great delight in this new-found power, which proved most useful. The
tattoo designs were obtained, for example, by giving him a large sheet
of paper with an outline of a man or woman, also a pencil and piece of
candle; these he took down to the village, gathered the old men together
in their huts in the evening, and brought up in the morning the figure
adorned by the direction of the ancients (fig. 88). He took a real
interest in the work, learning through the conversations much about the
place which was new to him, and at the end of the time triumphantly
stated, “Mam-ma now knows everything there is to know about the island.”
[Illustration:
FIG. 84.
CANOE-SHAPED HOUSES.
STONE FOUNDATIONS
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 84A.
ENTRANCE AND PAVED AREA.
]
It is proposed to unite the information gained from locality and memory,
referring where necessary to the accounts of the early voyagers, and
give as complete descriptions as possible of the primitive existence
which continued on Easter Island till the middle of last century. It
will be seen that the condition of the people on the coming of
Christianity, as we were able to ascertain it, corresponded almost
exactly with that described by the first visitors from Europe, more than
a hundred years earlier. Such traditions as linger regarding the
megalithic remains have already been alluded to earlier in this book,
but attention will be drawn to the point whenever this line of research
seems successful in throwing indirect light on the origin of the great
works.
_Mode of Life._—The present natives, in talking of old times, say that
their ancestors were “as thick as grass,” and stood up like the fingers
of two hands with the palms together; a statement from which deduction
must be made for pictorial representation. The early mariners never, as
we have seen, estimate the population at more than two thousand, but the
land could carry many more. Mr. Edmunds calculates that about half of
the total amount (or some 15,000 acres) could grow bananas and sweet
potatoes. Two acres of cultivated ground would be sufficient to supply
an ordinary family.
Housing accommodation presented no great problem. Many slept in the
open, and even to-day, in the era of Christianity and European clothes,
a cave is looked upon as sufficient shelter. When on moving from our
“town” to our “country” house we inquired where our attendants were to
sleep, we were cheerfully informed “it was all right, there was a very
good cave near Tongariki”—and this cave, called Ana Havea, became a
permanent annexe to the establishment (fig. 124). Some of these caves
had a wall built in front for shelter.
Houses, however, did exist, which were built in the form of a long
upturned canoe; they were made of sticks, the tops of which were tied
together, the whole being thatched successively with reeds, grass, and
sugar-cane. In the best of these houses, the foundations, which are
equivalent to the gunwale of the boat, are made of wrought stones let
into the ground; they resemble the curbstones of a street pavement save
that the length is greater. In the top of the stones were holes from
which sprang the curved rods, which were equivalent to the ribs of a
boat, and formed the walls and roof (figs. 84 and 85). The end stones of
the house are carefully worked on the curve, and it is very rare to find
them still in place, as they were comparatively light, weighing from one
to two hundredweight, and easily carried off. Even the heavier stones
were at times seized upon as booty in enemy raids; one measuring 15 feet
was pointed out to us near an ahu on the south coast, which had been
brought all the way from the north side of the island. In the middle of
one side of the house was a doorway, and in the front of it a porch,
which had also stone foundations. The whole space in front of the house
was neatly paved with water-worn boulders, in the same manner as the
ahu. This served as a stoep on which to sit and talk, but its practical
utility was obvious to ourselves in the rainy seasons, when the entrance
to our tents and houses became deep in mud (fig. 84A). Near the main
abode was a thatched house which contained the native oven, the stones
of which are often still in place. The cooking was done Polynesian
fashion: a hole about 15 inches deep is lined with flat stones, a fire
is made within, and, when the stones are sufficiently heated, the food,
wrapped up in parcels, is stacked within and covered with earth, a fire
being lighted on the top.
Many of the surviving old people were born and brought up in these
houses, which are known as “haré paenga.” The old man, for example,
before alluded to, who was brought out to Raraku, roved round the
mountain telling with excitement who occupied the different houses in
the days of his youth. He gave a particularly graphic description of the
scene after sundown, when all were gathered within for the evening meal.
In addition to the main door, there was, he said, an opening near each
end by which the food was passed in and then from hand to hand; as
perfect darkness reigned, a sharp watch had to be kept that it all
reached its proper owners. He lay down within the old foundations to
show how the inhabitants slept. This was parallel to the long axis of
the house, the head being towards the door; the old people were in the
centre in couples, and the younger ones in the ends. The largest of
these houses, which had some unique features, measured 122 feet in
length, with an extreme width of 12 feet; but some 50 feet by 5 feet or
6 feet are more usual measurements. They were often shared by related
families and held anything from ten to thirty, or even more, persons.
[Illustration:
FIG. 85.—CANOE-SHAPED HOUSE.
Diagram of stone foundations, paved area, and cooking-place.
]
The food consisted of the usual tropical produce, such as potatoes,
bananas, sugar-cane, and taro. Animal diet formed a very small part of
it, rats being the only form of mammal; but chickens played an important
rôle in native life, and the remains of the dwellings made for them are
much more imposing than those for human beings. They are solid cairns,
in the centre of which was a chamber, running the greater part of their
length; it was entered from outside by two or more narrow tunnels, down
which the chickens could pass. They were placed here at night for the
sake of safety, as it was impossible to remove the stones in the dark
without making a noise (fig. 86). Fish are not very plentiful, as there
is no barrier reef, but they also were an article of diet, and were
bartered by those on the coast for the vegetable products obtained by
those further inland. Fish-hooks made of stone were formerly used, and a
legend tells of a man who had marvellous success because he used one
made of human bone. The heroes of the tales are also spoken of as
fishing with nets. There are in various places on the coast round
towers, built of stone, which are said to have been look-out towers
whence watchers on land communicated the whereabouts of the fish to
those at sea; these contained a small chamber below which was used as a
sleeping apartment (fig. 87). Turtles appear on the carvings on the
rock, and are alluded to in legend, and turtle-shell ornaments were
worn; but the water is too cold for them ever to have been common, and
Anakena is almost the only sandy bay where they could have come on
shore.
The sole form of dress was the cloth made from the paper mulberry, and
known throughout the South Seas as tapa; it was used for loin-cloths and
wraps, which the Spaniards describe as fastening over one shoulder.
Head-gear was a very important point, as witnessed by the way the
islanders always stole the caps of the various European sailors. The
natives had various forms of crowns made of feathers, some of them
reserved for special occasions. Cherished feathers, particularly those
of white cocks, were brought out of gourds, where they had been
carefully kept, to manufacture specimens for the Expedition. The crowns
are generally made to form a shade over the eyes, like the head-dresses
of the images. Naturally, every effort was made to find the prototype of
the image hats. No one recollected ever seeing anything precisely like
it, but among the pictures drawn for us of various head-decorations was
a cylindrical hat made of grass; the brim projected all the way round as
with a European hat, but it had the same form of knot on the top as that
of the statues.
[Illustration:
FIG. 86.
HOUSE FOR CHICKENS.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 87.
A TOWER USED BY FISHERMEN.
]
[Illustration:
1 and 2 (on face), Stone adzes.
3 (on chest), Fish-hooks.
4 (on chest), Spear-heads or “mataa.”
5 (on waist), “Paré-pu.”
6 (on arms), Reported as decorative only.
FIG. 88.—DESIGNS IN TATTOOING, DRAWN BY NATIVES.
]
Tattooing was a universal practice, and the exactness of the designs
excited the admiration of the early voyagers, who wondered how savages
managed to achieve such regularity and accuracy. The drawings made for
us from the descriptions of the old people show the men covered, not
only with geometrical designs, but with pictures of every-day objects,
such as chisels and fish-hooks; even houses, boats, and chickens were
represented in this way according to taste. The most striking objects
were drawings of heads, one on each side of the body, known as
“paré-pu,” which the old mariners describe as “fearsome
monstrosities”[42] (fig. 88). Various old persons said that they
remembered seeing men with a pattern on the back similar to the rings
and girdle of the images. It seems, however, doubtful whether the image
design merely represented tattoo, in view of the fact that it was
raised, not incised, and in any case this would only put the search for
its prototype a stage further back. The fact, however, remains that
those particular marks were still being perpetuated, and form a link
connecting the present with the past. Beechey, in 1825, tells us the
women were so tattooed as to look as if they wore breeches. In addition
to this kind of decoration, the islanders adorned themselves with
various colours: white and red were obtained from mineral products found
in certain places; yellow from a plant known as “pua,”[43] and black
from ashes of sugar-cane. They had a distinct feeling for art. Some of
the paintings found in caves and houses are obviously recent, and it is
a frequent answer to questions as to the why and wherefore of things,
that they were to make some object “look nice.”
It will be remembered that not only have the images long ears, but that
all the early voyagers speak of them as general among the inhabitants.
It was therefore somewhat surprising to find that no such thing was
known as a man whose ears had been perforated, though with the women the
custom went on till the introduction of Christianity, and two or three
females with the lobe dilated in this manner still survived (fig. 90).
At last one old leper recalled that the father of his foster-father had
long ears, and on asking as a child for the reason, he had received the
illuminating reply that “the old people had them like that.” He also
mentioned one or two others with similar ears, and this was subsequently
confirmed by other authorities. It will be seen that the custom, as far
as men were concerned, of dilating the lobe of the ear, must have been
abandoned at the end of the eighteenth century, or just about the time
of the visits of the Spanish, English, and French Expeditions. That this
was cause and effect, and that they imitated the appearance of the
foreign sailors, seems more than a guess; it will appear from other
sources how great was the impression which was made by the foreigners.
[Illustration:
FIG. 89.
MAHANGA.
A native of the Paumotu.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 90.
AN OLD WOMAN OF EASTER ISLAND WITH DILATED EAR-LOBE.
]
_Social Life._—Roggeveen’s description of the people as being of all
shades of colour is still accurate. They themselves are very conscious
of the variations, and when we were collecting genealogies, they were
quite ready to give the colour of even remote relations: “Great-aunt
Susan,” it would be unhesitatingly stated, was “white,” and “Great-aunt
Jemima black.” The last real ariki, or chief, was said to be quite
white. “White like me?” I innocently asked. “You!” they said, “you are
red”; the colour in European cheeks, as opposed to the sallow white to
which they are accustomed, is to the native our most distinguishing
mark. It is obvious that we are dealing with a mixed race, but this only
takes us part of the way, as the mixture may have taken place either
before or after they reached the island.
They were divided into ten groups, or clans (“máta”), which were
associated with different parts of the island, though the boundaries
blend and overlap; members of one division settled not infrequently
among those of another. Each person still knows his own clan.
In remembered times there were no group restrictions on marriage, which
took place indiscriminately between members of the same or of different
clans. The only prohibition had reference to consanguinity, and forbade
all union nearer than the eighth degree or third cousins. These ten
clans were again grouped, more especially in legend or speaking of the
remote past, into two major divisions known as Kotuu (or Otuu), and Hotu
Iti, which correspond roughly with the western and eastern parts of the
island. These divisions were also known respectively as Mata-nui, or
greater clans, and Mata-iti, or lesser clans. The lower portions of the
island were the most densely populated parts, especially those on the
coast, and the settlements on the higher ground appear to have been few
(fig. 91).
In Kotuu, the Marama and Haumoana inhabited side by side the land
running from sea to sea between the high central ground and the western
volcano Rano Kao. They had a small neighbour, the Ngatimo, to the south,
and jointly with the Miru spread over Rano Kao and formed settlements by
the margin of the crater lake. The Miru lived on the high, narrow strip
between the mountain in the apex and the cliff, and mixed up with them
was a lesser people, the Hamea. To the east was another small clan, the
Raa, which is spoken of in conjunction with the Miru and Hamea.
[Illustration:
FIG. 91.
_Note._—The dividing lines shown are not defined boundaries.
]
The principal Hotu Iti clans were the Tupahotu, the Koró-orongo, and the
Hitiuira. The last were generally known as the “Ureohei”; they inhabited
jointly the level piece of ground from the northern bay to the south
coast, and had some dwellings on the eastern headland. Next to them on
the south coast was a small group, the Ngaure.[44] The particular
importance of the clans lies in the fact that, while they may be merely
groups of one body, they may, on the other hand, represent different
races or waves of immigrants. If there have been two peoples on Easter
Island, these divisions are one place where we must at least look for
traces for it.
Legend tells of continual wars between Hotu Iti and Kotuu. In recent
times general fighting seems to have been constant, and took place even
between members of one clan. A wooden sword, or paoa, was used, but the
chief weapon was made from obsidian, and took from it the name of
“mataa.” This volcanic glass is found on the slope of Rano Kao, but the
principal quarries are on the neighbouring hill of Orito. Tradition says
its use was first discovered by a boy who stepped on it and cut his
foot. The obsidian was knapped till it had a cutting edge, and also a
tongue, which latter was fitted into a handle or stick (fig. 92). The
various shapes assumed were dignified by names, fourteen of which were
given, such as “tail of a fish,” “backbone of a rat,” “leaf of a
banana.” It was very usual to pick up these mataa, and hoards were
occasionally found; in one instance fifty or sixty were discovered below
a stone in a cave, and in another case the hammer-stone was found with
them which had been used in the process of squeezing off the flakes. The
weapon was used both as a spear and as a javelin. A site is pointed out
near Anakena, where a man throwing down hill killed another at about
thirty-five yards. The art of making these mataa is, of course,
practically extinct, but one old man, commonly known as “Hé” (fig. 83),
brought us some which he had manufactured himself for the Expedition,
and which were fairly well wrought.
With the exception of the Miru, of which more will be said, there were
no chiefs nor any form of government; any man who was expert in war
became a leader. The warfare consisted largely of spasmodic and isolated
raids; an aggrieved person gathered together his neighbours and
descended on the offenders. It is related incidentally that one man,
going along the south coast, “found war going on,” one set of men having
blocked up another in a cave. Another story is told of six men, called
Gwaruti-mata-keva, of the clan Tupahotu, who lived in a cave in a
certain hillock on the south coast, known as Toa-toa. They went round in
a boat to Hanga Piko, stole fish, and returned rapidly to their cave. A
hundred men from Hanga Piko then came overland to punish the robbery,
and made a fire of grass before the cave in which the men lay hidden.
When the attackers assumed that the enemy were all dead from
suffocation, they went into the cave; but those within had buried their
faces in holes scraped in the earth, and when the men from Hanga Piko
entered, they arose and slew the whole hundred. A more interesting fact
came out incidentally in connection with this gang of Toa-toa,
connecting them with the secret societies found elsewhere in the
Pacific. They were, it was said, in the habit of going about after dark
with their faces painted red, white, and black, and visiting houses,
where they declared they were gods, and demanded food, which the
inhabitants accordingly gave them. The fraud, however, finally came to
light when one day a man, who was travelling with his servant, saw them
washing paint off their faces, “so they knew that they had deceived the
people, and the people gathered together and killed them.”
In these internecine fights fire was very generally set to the enemy’s
dwellings. “He often burnt houses,” a young man said, pointing to an
older one, and the impeachment was not denied. The ahu, too, were raided
and bodies burnt, which seems to be the cause of the burnt bones
recorded by certain travellers; there is no reason to suppose there was
cremation or sacrifice on Easter Island. It was in this sort of warfare
that the last images were overthrown.
[Illustration:
FIG. 92.
[_Brit. Mus._
OBSIDIAN SPEAR-HEADS.
(_Mataa._)
]
While legends record how many people were eaten after each affray, all
living persons deny, with rather striking unanimity, not only that they
themselves have ever been cannibals, but that their fathers were so. If
this is correct, the custom was dying out for some reason before the
advent of Christianity;[45] their grandfathers, the old people admit,
ate human flesh, but, if there were any rites connected with it, they
“did not tell.” The great-grandmother of an old man of the Miru clan
was, according to his account, killed on the high central part of the
island by the Ureohei and eaten. In revenge for the outrage, one of her
sons, Hotu by name, killed sixty of the Ureohei. Another son, who had
pacifist leanings, thought the feud ought then to be ended, but Hotu
desired yet more victims, and there was a violent quarrel between the
two brothers, in which the peace-maker was struck on the head with a
club; for, as Hotu remarked, if they had slain his father, it would have
been different, but really to eat his mother was “no good.”
Our acquaintance with the person said to have been “the last cannibal,”
or rather with his remains, came about accidentally during the time when
I was alone on the island. A little party of us had ridden to the top of
the volcano Rano Kao; and on the southern side of the crater, that
opposite Orongo, some of the natives were pointing out the legendary
sites connected with the death of the first immigrant chief, Hotu-matua.
Suddenly one of them vanished into a crevice in the rocks, and
reappeared brandishing a thigh-bone to call attention to its large size.
I dismounted, scrambled into a little grotto, or natural cave, where a
skeleton was extended; the skull was missing, but the jaw-bone was
present, and the rest of the bones were in regular order; the individual
had either died there or been buried. Bones were in the department of
the absent member of the Expedition, but it was of course essential to
collect them, from the view of determining race, and the natives never
resented our doing so. I therefore passed these out, packed them in
grass in the luncheon-basket, and, sitting down on a rock, asked to be
told the story of the cave. “That,” my attendants replied, “is Ko Tori.”
He was, they said, the last man on the island who had eaten human flesh.
In this hiding-place he had enjoyed his meals, and no one had ever been
able to track him. There had formerly been a cooking-place, but it was
now hidden by a fall of stones. He had died as a very old man at the
other end of the island, apparently in the odour of sanctity; to judge
by the toothless jaw if he had not deserted his sins they must long ago
have deserted him. His last desire was to be buried in the place with
which he had such pleasant connections, and in dutiful regard to his
wishes, or because it was feared that his ghost might otherwise make
itself unpleasant, some of the young men bore the corpse on stretchers
along the south coast and up to the top of the mountain, depositing it
here. The next thing was to get at some sort of date; chronology is
naturally of a vague order, and the most effective method is, if
possible, to connect events with the generation in which they happened.
“Did your grandfather know him,” was asked, “or your father?” The answer
was unexpected. “Porotu,” they said, pointing to one of the old men,
“helped to carry him,” and silence fell on the group. My heart sank; I
had then undone this last pious work and committed sacrilege. To my
great relief, however, strange sounds soon made it clear that the
humorous side had appealed to the escort; they were suffocating with
mirth. “And now,” they said, gasping between sobs of laughter, “Ko Tori
goes in a basket to England.” As I write, Ko Tori resides at the Royal
College of Surgeons, and has done his bit towards elucidating the
mystery of Easter Island.
Sexual morality, as known to us, was not a strong point in life on the
island, but marriage was distinctly recognised, and the absolute loose
liver was a person apart. Polygamy was usual, but many seem to have had
only one wife. The children belonged to the father’s clan, and are often
distinguished by his name being given after their own. At the same time
the clan of the mother was not ignored, and a man would sometimes fight
for his maternal side. If a man had sons by more than one wife, after
his death each claimed the body of his father to lie on the ahu of his
mother’s clan, and the corpse might thus be carried to several in turn,
finally returning to its own destination. We collected a certain number
of genealogical trees, the various dramatis personæ being for this
purpose represented by matches or buttons. It was not a very popular
line of research, the cry being apt to be raised, “Now let’s talk of
something interesting”; but some two hundred names were in this way
placed in their family groups, with details of clan, place of residence
and colour, and some knowledge obtained with regard to many more. It is
not of course enough ground on which to found any theory, but it was
very useful in checking information gathered in other ways. Only in one
case was it possible to get back beyond the great-grandfather of our
informant, but the knowledge of family connections was often greater
than would be found among Europeans. The number of childless marriages
was striking.
The early story of Viriamo (fig. 83), the oldest woman living in our
day, gives a picture of this primitive state of things. She belonged to
the clan of Ureohei, and her family had lived for some generations, as
far back as could be remembered, on the edge of the eastern volcano, not
far from Raraku. The great-grandfather, who was dark, had as his only
wife a white woman of the Hamea. Their son was white, and had two wives,
one of the Tupahotu and one of the Ngaure. By the first, although she
also was white, he had a dark son who married a white wife of his own
clan, Ureohei, but of a different group. Viriamo was the second of their
eight children, all of whom were white save herself and her eldest
brother. Four of the girls died young in the epidemic of smallpox in
1864. Viriamo and two of her sisters were initiated as children into the
bird rite.[46] When older she was tattooed with rings round her forehead
and with the dark-blue breeches. Somewhat later, but still as a young
woman, she went over to Anakena and had her ears pierced, but she never
had the lobe extended, preferring to let it remain small. When asked
about her marriage, she bridled as coyly as a young girl. Her first
union was a matter of arrangement, the husband, who was also of the
Ureohei, giving her father much food, and, if she had refused to accept
the situation, she would, she said, have been beaten. There was no
ceremony of any kind, no new clothes nor feasting; her father simply
took her to her new home and handed her over. The house was near the two
statues with the projecting noses, excavated on the south-eastern slope
of Raraku (fig. 73), and, when she wanted water, rather than cross the
boundary and go round to the lake by the gap, through the hostile
dwellers on the western side, she used to clamber with her vessel up the
boundary rift in the cliff-face. There was one white child, who died
young, but her marriage was not a success, and Viriamo left the man and
went off to live with one of the Miru clan at Anakena. His house already
contained a wife and family, also four brothers, but they all got on
quite happily together. She had five children by this man, who, like
their father, were all white; four of them, however, died in infancy.
This was the result of the parents having most unfortunately fallen foul
of an old man, whose cloak had been taken without his consent, and who
had accordingly prophesied disaster. The remaining child, a daughter,
was living and unmarried when we were on the island. The last husband
was the most satisfactory of the three; he was a Tupahotu living near
Tongariki. She was handed over to him as a matter of family arrangement,
in discharge of a debt, but she was quite amenable to the exchange, and
was very fond of him. He was light in colour, but her only child by this
marriage, our friend Juan, was dark, taking, as he said, “after my
mam-ma.”
The women do not seem, judging by existing remains, to have had always a
happy time. Dr. Keith, who examined the skulls collected by the
Expedition, concludes his report on one of the female specimens as
follows: “The most likely explanation is that the indent of the left
temple was the cause of death, produced by the blow of a club, and that
the suppuration and repair of the right side has been also produced by a
former blow which failed to prove fatal. Two other skulls, also those of
women, show indented fractures in the left temporal region.”
Any deficiency at marriages, in the way of social festivity, was made up
at funerals. These were attended by persons from all over the island,
for “when they were not fighting, they were all cousins.” In answer to
the remark that “considering the population their whole time must have
gone in this way,” it was cheerfully observed that “they had nothing
else to do, so they all went, everybody took food and everybody ate.”
The parents of one of our friends, Kapiera, lived at Anakena, but he was
born on the south side of the island near Vaihu “when his mother went
for a funeral.” The men who knew the tablets went also and sang, but
there seems to have been little or nothing in the way of rites. The
missionaries were impressed with the fact that there was no ceremony of
any kind at a burial.
[Illustration:
FIG. 93.
AHU, HANGA MAIHIKO
Old Image Ahu, converted to semi-pyramid form, with paved approach;
also two stones on which were exposed the corpses of slain men.
]
Most elaborate spells were, however, performed in connection with a man
who had been slain, known as “tangata ika,” or fish-man; the corpse was
kept from resting either day or night while his neighbours went in
pursuit of vengeance. In front of one ahu, on the north coast, some
pieces of the old statues have been formed into a rude chair. On this,
it was said, had been seated the naked body of a man belonging to the
district, Kota-vari-vari by name, who had been killed at Akahanga on the
south coast. One man kept the corpse from falling, while two others sat
behind and chanted songs to aid the avengers. These watchers were
covered with black ashes, wore only feather hats, and carried the small
dancing-paddle known as “rapa” (fig. 116); the chief man in charge of
the ceremony was known as the “timo.” It must have been an eerie scene
as dusk came on. The story is told of a murder near Tongariki. In this
case the victim’s corpse was placed on the ahu and turned over at
intervals by the watchers. Hanga Maihiko, a converted image ahu on the
south coast, is one of those which have a paved approach, and there are
on the pavement two stones—pieces of a hat and a statue—specially used
for exposing “fish-men” (fig. 93). If these charms failed to act, there
was a still more reliable way. The clothes of the victim were buried
beneath the cooking-place of the foe, and when he had partaken of food
prepared there he would certainly die the night following. Some of the
carved tablets were connected with these rites; one was certainly known
as that of the “Ika,” while there is said to have been another called
“Timo,” which was the “list” kept by each ahu of its murdered men.
The custom of exposing the dead was, as has been stated, going on in
living memory. The information already given on this head is confirmed
by the accounts of the missionaries,[47] but burial was also practised,
the mode of disposal being a matter of choice. There were two drawbacks
to exposure: firstly, if the deceased was for any reason an uncanny
person, his ghost might make itself unpleasant—he was safer hidden under
stones; secondly, the body, if left in the open, might be burnt by
enemies; this latter was the reason given for the burial of the last
great chief, Ngaara, who was interred in one of the image ahu on the
western coast. Not only were the ruins of the greater ahu still being
used, but up till 1863 smaller ones were being built. One was pointed
out on the north coast as having been put up for an individual, the
maternal aunt of our guide, the lady having had the misfortune to be
killed by a devil in the night. It was a small structure, ovoidal in
shape, 10 feet in length, with a flat top sloping from a height of 9
feet at the end towards the sea, to 4 feet 6 inches at that towards the
land; there was beneath it a vaulted chamber for bones.
[Illustration:
FIG. 94.—DIAGRAM OF AHU POE-POE (CANOE-SHAPE).
]
Burial cairns, called “ahu poe-poe,” were being made in modern times,
and a man skilled in their construction was amongst those who were
carried off to Peru. The word “poe-poe” is described as meaning a big
canoe, such as their ancestors came in to the island. It is applied to
two types of ahu, one of which is obviously built to resemble a boat; of
this kind there are about twelve in the island. One large one (fig. 94)
measured as much as 178 feet in length, the width being 20 feet, while
the ends, which are made like the bow and stern of a canoe, are about 10
feet to 15 feet in height. The flat top is paved with sea-boulders, and
is surrounded by a row of the same in imitation of the gunwale of a
boat. In one such ahu two vaults were found by us just below the surface
with perfect burials. One was the body of an old man, the other of a
woman with a child. Both had been wrapped in reeds, and with the body of
the woman were some glass beads. On the surface of the ahu were a few
bones, possibly of a body which had been exposed there, but the ahu had
apparently been built for the two interments. It is less obvious why the
same name, “ahu poe-poe,” should be applied to a burial-place which was
wedge-shaped in form. It follows the lines of the image ahu in so far as
having a wall towards the sea flanked on the land sides by a slope of
masonry. It might be held to represent the prow of a boat, but resembles
rather a pier or jetty. Only some six of these were seen, of which the
longest was 70 feet. One in a lonely spot, at the very edge of a high
cliff, which overlooked Anakena Bay, formed a most striking abode for
the dead (fig. 95).
In a few cases the term ahu is given to a pavement, generally by the
roadside, neatly made of rounded boulders and edged with a curb; the
form was said to be ancient. One of those on the west road was reported
as specially dedicated to mata-toa—which signifies victors or
warriors—and the same was said of a differently made ahu on the south
coast.[48]
Neither exposure nor interment was necessarily confined to ahu, and
corpses were frequently disposed of in caverns, as in the case of Ko
Tori. Three instances were mentioned, an uncle and two nephews, where
the corpses, after being exposed, were lowered with a rope down the
crevasses of the cliff of Raraku in order to evade the enemy. One of the
nephews, who had been of the party when the final statues were
overthrown, had met with a tragic end, being drowned by catching his
hand in a rock when diving for lobsters under water. With the exception
of those near the standing statues, we practically never found an earth
burial. This seems to account for the exaggerated estimates of the
number of human remains on the island; it is doubtful if even five
hundred skulls could be collected, but, whether in caves or ruined ahu,
a large proportion of those which exist are very much in evidence.
Memorials of the dead were erected in various places independently of
the actual locality where the corpse rested. Some of these were simply
mounds of earth, which can be seen on various hills; there is a regular
succession on the landward rim of the Raraku crater, opposite to the
great cliff, but one at least of these was a memorial to a man whose
body had been disposed of in the clefts of the cliff. Others of these
independent memorials were in the shape of cairns about 6 feet in
height, known as “pipi-hereko,” and were formerly surmounted by a white
stone. Many of them still exist, and they are particularly numerous on
the high ground above Anakena Cove. The locality was chosen as one which
was but little inhabited, for the taboo for the dead (or pera) extended
to them, and no one went near them in the daylight, on penalty of being
stoned, till the period of mourning had been terminated with the usual
feast. Various voyagers commented on these cairns, which were marked
objects, and Cook thinks that they may have been put up instead of
statues.
It would seem by the following tale, which imposes a somewhat severe
strain on the European imagination, that piles of stones had in the
native mind a certain resemblance to the human figure. “There was once
an old lady who had an arm so long that it could have reached right
across the island. She was a bad old woman, and once a month had a child
to eat, so a certain man determined to put an end to her power for doing
harm. He took her out in a boat to fish, first telling his small son to
collect stones, and after they had gone to put them in piles in front of
the house of the woman, and also to make a fire and much smoke. When the
canoe had got out to sea, he looked back and found the boy had done as
he was told, and glimpses of the cairns could be seen among the clouds
of smoke. Then he called to the old woman, ‘Look, there are men at your
house!’ So she put out her long arm to seize what she thought were the
people going to rob her hut, whereon the man seized the paddle and
brought it down on her arm and broke it; then he killed the old woman
and threw her body into the sea.
[Illustration:
FIG. 95.
AHU POE-POE (WEDGE SHAPE).
]
Life was by no means dull in Easter Island, for if a feast was not being
given to commemorate a departed relation, it was arranged in honour of
one whilst still alive. The “PAINA,” which means simply picture or
representation, was given by the family as a testimonial of esteem to a
father, or possibly a brother who might be either alive or dead; it was
a serious matter, and the original direction for the celebration came
from a supernaturally gifted individual known as an “ivi-atua.” The
paina was a large figure made of woven rods, and the host would clamber
up inside it and look through eyes or mouth; it had a crown made of the
wings of a particular sea-bird, known as “makohe,” and long ears.
Occasionally it was put up on a special spot, where, for example, a man
had been killed, but the interesting point in connection with the paina
is that the usual place for erection was in front of an image ahu on its
landward side, and at most, or all, of the large ahu, there can still be
seen, in the grass at the foot of the paved slope, the holes where the
paina have stood. It was kept in place by four long ropes, one of which
passed over the ahu. The feast was held in the summer, and lasted from
two to four days; at any given ahu there might be only one in the season
or as many as five. The drawbacks, which would have seemed obvious to
such a locality, do not seem to have clouded the entertainment; the
feasting was great, and consisted largely of rats which were caught in
the hen-houses. The recollection of these entertainments and the crowds
who attended them were very vivid, and Viriamo’s eyes brightened as she
told of the singing, dancing, and feasting of her youth.
There are records of another figure which appears to have been different
from the paina; it was clothed and known as “KO PEKA.” The Spanish
Expedition in 1770 says that the islanders brought down to the beach, on
the day when the three crosses were set up, an idol about 11 feet high
like a “Judas,” stuffed with straw; it was all white, and had a fringe
of black hair hanging down its back. They put it up on stones and sat
cross-legged around it, howling all night by the light of flares. As no
information was volunteered to us about such celebrations, the natives
were asked if they had ever known a similar figure, and an old man at
once replied that there had existed one just like the description, made
of reeds, as a memorial of a dead wife or “fine” child; it stood in
front of the house, or was sometimes carried to a hillock where the
people assembled to mourn. One of the officers of the La Pérouse
Expedition also described a figure seen near a platform; it was 11 feet
in height, clothed in white tapa (“_étoffe blanche du pays_”); it had
hanging round the neck a basket covered with white, and by the side of
this bag the figure of a child 2 feet long. This seems to confirm the
information that it was intended to represent a woman.
Another great festivity, given for a father either living or dead, was
the “KORO.” This was a house-party on a very extended scale. A special
dwelling made with poles and thatched was put up, and, according to
accounts, which surround it no doubt with a halo from the past, measured
some hundreds of feet in length and 20 feet in height. An old man stated
that at a celebration at which he was present there were “a hundred
guests,” a number which is probably a guess, but the addition that there
were “ten cooking-places” sounds like memory. Invitations to these
festivities were much in request, as there was “no work to do”; presents
of food were brought to the hero who distributed them to the party. They
seem to have lasted indefinitely, going on for months, and the time was
passed with various entertainments. The old people sang, the young
people danced, and the host, who lived in a little house near, came and
looked on. On the last day there was a great feast, and the house was
broken down with the aid of the carved wooden lizards, which are
associated with the island (fig. 117). We were puzzled in coming across
a rough stone building, near Anakena, which seemed to be neither ahu,
dwelling, nor chicken-house; it had been, the men told us, a shelter for
the posts of the koro, where they were kept in readiness for the next
celebration.
There was yet another entertainment which is said to have been in honour
of a mother, as a koro was of a father. In at least four different
places on the island are to be seen a dancing-ground known as “KAUNGA.”
It is a narrow strip paved with pebbles, over 200 feet in length by 2
feet in width, and not unlike the paved approach to some of the ahu. A
demonstration was given of the way it was used. The dancers, “fine men,
fine women,” as was explained with emphasis, proceeding along it single
file, holding rapa in both hands. In connection with some or all of the
kaunga there was a house where the party remained indoors for a long
time previous to the dances, in order to “get their complexions good,” a
touch which shows that a white skin was admired.
These feasts were held in certain months only, determined by the
appearance of the heavens after nightfall. On the extremity of the
eastern headland there is an outcrop of boulders, one of which is
incised with a spiral design; the place is known as “Ko Te
Papa-ui-hetuu,” or, “The Rock-for-seeing-stars,” and here the old men
came to watch the constellations. About two hundred yards from these
boulders there is another engraved stone on which ten cup-shaped
depressions are visible; this represented, it is said, “a map of the
stars.”
The season for the Paina depended on the position of the three central
stars of Orion, with regard to which the following story is related. A
certain married woman, on going down to bathe, was carried off by a
stranger. When her husband discovered this, he slew her in his anger,
and she fled up to be a star. The husband then took their two boys, one
in each hand, and followed her to the sky, where the three form the belt
of Orion. The wife, however, would have nothing to do with them, and
remained in a separate part of the heavens. This is the only nature myth
which we encountered on the island.