POSITION OF THE FIJI ISLANDS — GENERAL APPEARANCE OF THE NATIVES — THEIR PECULIAR HAIR, AND VARIOUS MODES OF DRESSING IT — HAIR-DYES — THE FIJIAN MIRROR — WIG-MAKING — THE AMBASSADOR AND HIS MESSAGE — THE FIJIAN TURBAN — WATER-PROOF HEADDRESSES — DRESS OF THE FIJIANS — THE “MASI,” AND METHOD OF WEARING IT — EAR-ORNAMENTS — NECKLACES AND FLOWERS — TATTOOING AND PAINT — PATTERNS USED FOR THE FACE — DRESS OF THE WOMEN — THE ROUGHNESS OF THE SKIN AND USE OF PAINT — HAIR-DRESSING — MAKING MASI AND MODE OF PRODUCING PATTERNS — INGENIOUS MODE OF STENCILLING — THE WOMAN’S APRON, OR “LIKU,” AND MODE OF WEARING IT.

To describe the inhabitants of all the multitudinous islands of Polynesia would be an agreeable, but impossible task, our space confining us within limits which may not be transgressed. We will therefore pass at once to the large and important group of islands which is popularly known by the name of Fiji.

This group of islands lies due north of New Zealand, and to the eastward of New Guinea, so that they are just below the Equator. The collective name of the islands has been variously given, such as Fiji, Beetee, Feegee, Fidge, Fidschi, Vihi, and Viti. Of all these names, the first and the last are correct, the northern portion of the islands being known as Fiji, and the southern as Viti. The reader must remember that these names are pronounced as if written Feegee and Veetee.

The inhabitants of Fiji are a fine race of savages, tolerably well formed, and with dark, though not black skin. Like other Papuans, they are remarkable for their thick, bushy hair, which they dress in a singular variety of patterns. As the appearance and costume of savage races are the first points which strike a stranger, we will at once proceed to describe them.

The most conspicuous part of a Fijian’s general appearance is his headdress, in the arrangement of which he gives the reins to his fancy, and invents the most extraordinary variations of form and color. Examples of the Fijian headdress will be seen in most of the illustrations. But as it would be tedious to describe them as they occur, I will mention a few of the most prominent varieties.

The hair of the Papuan race is always stiff, wiry, and plentiful, and grows to a considerable length; so that it necessarily assumes a bushy form if suffered to grow according to its own will. The Fijian, however, thinks that nature is to be improved by art, and accordingly lavishes all the resources of a somewhat artistic character on his hair. To train the hair into any of the graceful and flowing methods which distinguish those soft-haired races would be utterly impossible for a Fijian. He goes on quite the opposite principle, and, true to real artistic feeling, tries to develop to the utmost those characteristics which rightly belong to him, instead of endeavoring to produce effects which would not be consonant with their surroundings.

The principle on which a Fijian coiffure is arranged is, that every hair is presumed to grow naturally at right angles to the skin, and to stand out stiffly and boldly. Supposing, then, that each hair could be induced to follow its own course, without being entangled by others, it is evident that the whole head of hair would form a large globular mass, surrounding the face. It is, therefore, the business of the Fijian hair-dresser to accept this as the normal form of the hair, and to change or modify it as he thinks best.

It is impossible to describe the various modes of Fijian hair-dressing better than has been done by Mr. Williams, who resided in Fiji for thirteen years. “Most of the chiefs have a hair-dresser, to whose care his master’s hair is intrusted, often demanding daily attention, and at certain stages of progress requiring several hours’ labor each day. During all this time, the operator’s hands are tapu from touching his food, but not from working in his garden.

“The hair is strong, and often quite wiry, and so dressed that it will retain the position in which it is placed, even when projecting from the head a distance of six or eight inches. One stranger, on seeing their performance in this department, exclaims, ‘What astonishing wigs!’ another thinks, ‘Surely the beau idéal of hair-dressing must exist in Fiji;’ a third, ‘Their heads surpass imagination.’” No wonder, then, that they defy description.

“Whatever may be said about the appearance being unnatural, the best coiffures have a surprising and almost geometrical accuracy of outline, combined with a round softness of surface and uniformity of dye which display extraordinary care, and merit some praise. They seem to be carved out of some solid substance, and are variously colored. Jet-black, blue-black, ashy white, and several shades of red prevail. Among young people, bright red and flaxen are in favor. Sometimes two or more colors meet on the same head. Some heads are finished, both as to shape and color, nearly like an English counsellor’s wig.

“In some, the hair is a spherical mass of jet black hair, with a white roll in front, as broad as the hand; or, in lieu of this, a white, oblong braid occupies the length of the forehead, the black passing down on either side. In each case the black projects further than the white hair. Some heads have all the ornamentation behind, consisting of a cord of twisted coils, ending in tassels. In others, the cords give place to a large red roll or a sandy projection falling on the neck. On one head, all the hair is of one uniform length, but one-third in front is ashy or sandy, and the rest black, a sharply defined separation dividing the two colors.

“Not a few are so ingeniously grotesque as to appear as if done purposely to excite laughter. One has a large knot of fiery hair on his crown, all the rest of the head being bald. Another has the most of his hair cut away, leaving three or four rows of small clusters, as if his head were planted with small paint brushes. A third has his head bare, except where a black patch projects over each temple. One, two, or three cords of twisted hair often fall from the right temple, a foot or eighteen inches long. Some men wear a number of these braids so as to form a curtain at the back of the neck, reaching from one ear to the other.

“A mode that requires great care has the hair wrought into distinct locks, radiating from the head. Each lock is a perfect cone, about seven inches in length, having the base outward, so that the surface of the hair is marked out into a great number of small circles, the ends being turned in, in each lock, toward the centre of the cone. In another kindred style, the locks are pyramidal, the sides and angles of each being as regular as though formed of wood. All round the head they look like square black blocks, the upper tier projecting horizontally from the crown, and a flat space being left at the top of the head. When the hair, however, is not more than four inches long, this flat does not exist, but the surface consists of a regular succession of squares or circles. The violent motions of the dance do not disturb these elaborate preparations, but great care is taken to preserve them from the effects of the dew or rain.”

Whenever the Fijian desires to know whether his headdress is in proper order, he has recourse to his mirror. This is not a portable, but a fixed article of manufacture, and is necessarily situated in the open air. When the native sees a large tree with a sloping trunk, he cuts in the upper part of the trunk several deep hollows, and arranges the leaves of the tree so that the water from the foliage drips into them, and keeps them full. These are his mirrors, and by their aid he examines his hair, sees if the outline be quite correct, and, if he be dissatisfied, arranges it with his long-handled comb, and then replaces the comb in his mop of a head, carefully sticking it over one ear as a soldier does his forage cap.

Not content with having the hair plaited and frizzed out as has already been described, many of the Fijians wear great wigs over their own hair, thus increasing the size of their heads to the most inordinate dimensions. The natives are excellent wig-makers and, as their object is not to imitate nature, but to produce as fantastic an effect as possible, it is evident that the result of their labor is often very ludicrous. As is the case with their own hair, they dye these wigs of various colors, red and white being the favorite hues.

Three examples of these curious headdresses are shown in illustration No. 1, on preceding page, which represents an ambassador delivering a message from his chief to some man of consequence. Savages such as these have no idea of writing, but, lest they should forget the various terms of their message, they have recourse to a simple memoria technica, consisting of a bundle of sticks, no two being of the same length.

Each of these sticks answers to one of the terms of the message, which is repeated once or twice to the ambassador, who reckons them over on his sticks. When he delivers his message, he unties the bundle, selects the sticks in their order, and, laying them down in succession, delivers the message without a mistake.

In the illustration, the principal figure represents the ambassador, the others being his attendants. He has laid down several of the sticks, and is delivering the message belonging to one of them, while he is holding the rest in his left hand. His headdress is of that remarkable kind which consists of a number of conical locks of hair—a fashion which denotes a man of rank, as no other could afford to have such a coiffure kept in order. The man seated next to the ambassador has his hair in two colors, the greater part being dark and frizzed out from the head, while a couple of rolls of a lighter hue pass over the forehead. The central figure exhibits a favorite mode of hair-dressing, in which the hair is clipped very short, except in certain spots, in which it is allowed to grow, so as to form a series of brush-like tufts.

Men of consequence mostly protect their enormous mops of hair by a sort of thin turban, which is wrapped round them. The turban is made of a piece of very delicate bark cloth, or masi, nearly as thin as gauze, and perfectly white. It is sometimes six feet in length, but varies according to the quantity of hair. It is twisted round the head in different fashions, but is mostly fastened by a bow on the forehead, or on the top of the head. Several examples of the turban will be seen in the course of the following pages. Men of rank often wear the masi of such length that the ends fall down behind like a scarf.

In order to preserve their hair from being displaced by rain, they use a waterproof covering of their own invention. This is a young banana leaf, which is heated over a fire, and then becomes as thin, transparent, and impervious to water as oiled silk. The light turban offers no protection whatever, being soaked as easily as tissue paper, which it somewhat resembles.

Material similar to that which is worn on the head is used for the dress. The masi which is employed for this purpose is mostly from twenty to thirty feet in length, though a wealthy man will sometimes wear a masi of nearly three hundred feet long. In this case, it is made of very delicate material. It is put on in a very simple manner, part being wound round the loins, and the rest passed under the legs and tucked into the belt, so as to hang as low as the knees in front, and to fall as low as possible behind. A wealthy man will often have his masi trailing far behind him like a train. This is all the dress which a Fiji man needs. Clothing as a protection from the weather is needless, owing to the geniality of the climate, and the masi is worn simply as a matter of fashion.

Ornaments are worn in great profusion, and are of the kinds which seem dear to all savage races. Ear ornaments of portentous size are worn by the inhabitants of Fiji, some of them stretching the lobe to such an extent that a man’s two fists could be placed in the opening. The Fijians also wear breast ornaments, very similar in shape and appearance to the large dibbi-dibbi which is worn by the Northern Australians, and has evidently been borrowed from the Papuan race. Any glittering objects can be made into necklaces, which often combine the most incongruous objects, such as European beads, bits of tortoise-shell, dogs’ teeth, bats’ jaws, and the like.

Flowers are plentifully worn by the Fijian, who keeps up a constant supply of these natural ornaments, weaving them into strings and chaplets, and passing them, like belts, over one shoulder and under the other. In the illustration on page 937th, which represents the payment of taxes, several girls are seen adorned with these garlands.

Tattooing is almost entirely confined to the women, and even in them is but little seen, the greater part of the patterns being covered by the liku or fringe apron. When young, the women usually tattoo their fingers with lines and stars in order to make them look ornamental as they present food to the chief, and, after they become mothers, they add a blue patch at each corner of the mouth. The operation is a painful one, though not so torturing as that which is employed in New Zealand, the pattern being made by the punctures of a sharp-toothed instrument, and not by the edge of a chisel driven completely through the skin.

Paint is used very largely, the three principal colors being black, white, and red. With these three tints they contrive to produce a variety of effect on their faces, that is only to be rivalled by the fancy displayed in their hair-dressing. Sometimes the face is all scarlet with the exception of the nose, which is black, and sometimes the face is divided like a quartered heraldic shield, and painted red and black, or white, red, and black in the different quarterings. Some men will have one side of the face black and the other white, while others paint their countenances black as far as the nose, and finish them off with white.

Reversing the first-mentioned pattern, the Fijian dandy will occasionally paint his face black and his nose red, or will have a black face, a white nose, a scarlet ring round each eye, and a white crescent on the forehead. Sometimes he will wear a white face covered with round scarlet spots like those on a toy horse; or will substitute for the round spots a large patch on each cheek and another round the mouth, just like the face of a theatrical clown.

Some very curious effects are produced by lines. A white face with a single broad black stripe from the forehead to the chin has a very remarkable appearance, and so has a face of which one side is painted longitudinally with black stripes on a white ground, and the other half with transverse stripes of the same colors. A similar pattern is sometimes produced with black upon red. Perhaps the oddest of all the patterns is formed by painting the face white, and upon the white drawing a number of undulating lines from the forehead downward, the lines crossing each other so as to form a sort of rippling network over the face.

So much for the dress of the men. That of the women is different in every way. Though possessing the same kind of stiff, wiry, profuse hair as the men, they do not trouble themselves to weave it into such fantastic designs, but mostly content themselves with combing it out so as to project as far as possible on every side. Sometimes they twist it into a series of locks, which are allowed to fall on the head merely at random, like the thrums of a mop.

Paint is employed by them as by the men, though not with such profusion. Scarlet seems to be their favorite color in paint, and to this predilection Mr. Pickering was indebted for opportunities of ascertaining by touch the peculiar roughness of the Papuan skin. The Fijians, an essentially ceremonious and punctilious people, will not allow themselves to be handled, and Mr. Pickering was rather perplexed as to the means of ascertaining whether this roughness belonged to the race, or whether it were only a peculiarity belonging to individuals. The love of scarlet paint here came to his assistance. The vermilion prepared by European art was so much superior to the pigments of Fiji, that the natives were only too glad to have so brilliant a color put on their faces and bodies. Accordingly men and women, old and young, pressed forward to have a little vermilion rubbed on them, and the mothers, after having their own faces painted, held out their infants to participate in the same benefit.

The native cloth, or masi, which has already been mentioned, is made from the inner bark of the malo tree, and is manufactured in a simple and ingenious manner.

As at the present day English fabrics are largely imported into Fiji, and are rapidly supplanting the delicate and becoming native manufactures, the art of making the masi will soon become extinct in Fiji, as has been the case in other islands where Europeans have gained a footing. I shall therefore devote a few lines to the description of its manufacture.

The natives cut off the bark in long strips, and soak them in water for some time, until the inner bark can be separated from the outer, an operation which is performed with the edge of a shell. After it has been removed from the coarse outer bark, it is kept in water so as to preserve it in the necessary state of moisture; and when a sufficient quantity is collected, the operation of beating it begins.

Masi is beaten upon a log of wood flattened on the upper surface, and so arranged as to spring a little with the blows of the mallet. This tool does not resemble our mallet with a handle and a head, but is simply a piece of wood about fourteen inches in length and two in thickness, rounded at one end so as to form a handle, and squared for the remainder of its length. Three sides of this mallet, or iki, as it is called, are covered with longitudinal grooves, while the fourth side is left plain. Those specimens that I have seen have the sides not quite flat, but very slightly convex, perhaps by use, perhaps rounded intentionally. A masi maker has several of these mallets, sometimes as many as six or seven, each having some difference in the fluting, and with them she contrives to produce a fabric that has all the effect of woven linens among ourselves, the pattern being incorporated with the material.

There are in my collection several specimens of masi, one of which is singularly beautiful. It is thin, snowy white, and soft as silk, and, even at a distance, must have looked very graceful when wrapped round the dark body of a Fijian warrior. But it is only on a closer examination that the real beauty of the fabric is displayed. Instead of merely beating the masi after the usual fashion, so as to impress upon it the longitudinal grooves of the mallet, the native manufacturer has contrived to change the position of her mallet at every blow, so as to produce a zigzag pattern on the fabric, very much like the well-known Greek pattern of European decorators. It is beautifully regular, and, when the fabric is held up to the light, looks like the water mark in paper.

The plasticity of the malo bark is really wonderful. A strip of two inches in length can be beaten to the width of eighteen inches, its length being slightly reduced as the width increases. As the material is very thin and flimsy, a single piece being, when beaten out, no thicker than tissue paper, two or more pieces are usually laid on each other and beaten so as to form a single thickness, the natural gluten which this material contains being sufficient to unite them as if they had been one piece. Some specimens of their larger mantles, now in my collection, are as thick as stout brown paper, and very much tougher, appearing both to the eye and the touch as if made of leather.

When a large masi has to be made, many lengths of the bark are united to each other, the ends being soaked in arrowroot starch, laid carefully over each other, and then subjected to the mallet, which forces the two pieces of bark to unite as if they were one substance, and does not exhibit the least trace of the junction. As I have already mentioned, some of these masis are of very great length. Mr. Williams measured one which was for the use of the king on festival days, and found its length to be five hundred and forty feet. Many of the large, and at the same time thin masis, are used as mosquito curtains, and in that case are decorated with patterns of dusky red and black. The patterns generally commence at the centre, and are gradually extended toward the edges. The mode of making these patterns is well described by Mr. Williams:—

“Upon a convex board, several feet long, are arranged parallel, at about a finger’s width apart, thin straight strips of bamboo, a quarter of an inch wide; and by the side of these, curved pieces, formed of the mid-rib of cocoa-nut leaflets, are arranged. Over the board thus prepared the cloth is laid, and rubbed over with a dye obtained from the lauci (Aleurites triloba). The cloth, of course, takes the dye upon those parts which receive pressure, being supported by the strips beneath, and thus shows the same pattern in the color employed. A stronger preparation of the same dye, laid on with a sort of brush, is used to divide the squares into oblong compartments, with large round or radiated dots in the centre. The kesa, or dye, when good, dries bright.

“Blank borders, two or three feet wide, are still left on each side of the square, and to elaborate the ornamentation of these so as to excite applause is the pride of every Fijian lady. There is now an entire change of apparatus. The operator works on a plain board; the red dye gives place to a jet black; her pattern is now formed by a strip of banana leaf placed on the upper surface of the cloth. Out of the leaf is cut the pattern, not more than an inch long, which she wishes to print upon the border, and holds by her first and middle finger, pressing it down with the thumb. Then, taking in her right hand a soft pad of cloth steeped in dye, she rubs it firmly over the stencil, and a fair, sharp figure is made.

“The practised fingers of the women move quickly, but it is after all a tedious process. In the work above described, the Lakemba women excel. On the island of Matuku very pretty curtains are made, but the pattern is large, and covers the entire square, while the spaces between the black lines are filled in with red and yellow.”

We now pass to the liku, or fringed girdle of the women. This is made of various materials, and much trouble is usually expended in its manufacture. The ordinary likus are little more than a number of slight thongs fixed to a belt, and allowed to hang down for several inches. When worn, it is passed round the waist and tied, not behind, but on one side, and on festivals the bark cord by which it is fastened is allowed to hang so low that it often trails on the ground as the wearer walks along.

The thongs are made of the bark of a species of hibiscus, called by the natives vau, and used for many purposes, of long flexible roots like that of the cascus grass, and of different grasses. One kind of liku which is rather fashionable, is made of a vegetable parasite, called by the natives waloa. The thongs of this liku are not thicker than, packthread, and when fresh, are as flexible as silk. In process of time, however, they become brittle, and are apt to break. The color of this material is deep glossy black.

There are in my collection two specimens of the liku, one of them being made of the fashionable waloa. The other is the common liku. It is made of split grass, the blades of which are more than three feet in length. In order to make them into the garment they have been doubled, and the loops woven into a narrow plaited belt of the same material. The better kind of likus are, however, made with far greater care than is bestowed on this article. There is but little difference in the thongs, the chief labor being bestowed on the belt. In some cases the belt of the liku is four inches in width, and is plaited into elegant patterns, plaiting being an art in which the natives excel.

In general shape the liku never varies, being worn by girls and women alike. As long as a girl is unmarried, she wears a liku the fringe of which is not more than three inches in depth, and the whole article is so scanty that when tied round the waist the ends do not meet at the hips by several inches. As soon as the girl is married, she changes her liku in token of her new rank, and wears a garment with a fringe that reaches half-way to her knees, and which entirely surrounds the body. After she has become a mother, she wears an apron which quite reaches to the knees, and sometimes falls below them.