THE GODS AND THEIR ABODES — VISIT OF THE LAND CRAB — FIJIAN PRIESTS AND THEIR INSIGNIA — CONSULTING THE DEITY — VARIOUS MODES OF DIVINATION — THE DIFFICULT PASSAGE TO HEAVEN — NATIVE TEMPLES, THEIR STRUCTURE AND USES — FEASTS GIVEN TO THE GODS — SACRED STONES — MURDER OF THE AGED AND SICK — A STRANGE MARK OF AFFECTION — PROVIDING THE DEAD WITH ATTENDANTS — BURIAL OF A LIVING KING — A TERRIBLE SCENE — VOYAGE TO THE CEMETERY, AND THE FUNERAL — SIMILARITY BETWEEN THE CUSTOMS OF FIJI AND INDIA — MODE OF MOURNING — THE SUCCESSIVE RITES AFTER A FUNERAL — THE CUSTOM OF LOLOKU — TOMB OF A CHIEF’S WIFE.

The religion, or rather the superstition, of the Fijians is much like that of other polytheists. The people acknowledge vast numbers of gods of greater or lesser power; most, if not all, of which are symbolized under some natural form, such as a hawk, a tree, or the like. Every Fijian considers himself under the protection of some especial god, and, as has been stated, will not eat the animal which is his symbol.

An amusing instance of the reverence paid to the symbols of the gods occurred at Tilioa. A very powerful god, who is worshipped at that place, resides in a land crab, but, as that crustacean is scarcely ever seen in the locality, there are but few opportunities of paying the proper worship. Whenever any one saw a land crab, he immediately ran to the priest, and forthwith the whole place was in a commotion. The people assembled to pay their respects to their deity, and a number of cocoa-nuts were gathered, strung together, and humbly presented to the crab deity in order to propitiate him, and to induce him to give them fair weather and a healthy season.

As to the particular doctrines of the Fijian religion, it is scarcely possible to learn much about them. In the first place, the people know nothing, and the priests, who know but little, dislike communicating their knowledge. Even the Christian converts can seldom be induced to speak on the subject with any degree of truth.

The priests are known by their official insignia, which consists of an oval frontlet of scarlet feathers, and a long-toothed comb made of separate pieces of wood ingeniously fastened together. Several of these combs are in my collection, and are excellent examples of the artistic capabilities of the makers. No two of them are alike, the delicate thread which fastens them together being woven in a singular variety of patterns. The threads are nearly as fine as hairs, and an additional beauty is given to the pattern by using alternately a deep black and a glittering yellow thread.

The priests communicate with their deities by throwing themselves into a sort of ecstatic state, technically called “shaking,” in which the whole body is convulsed, and the utterances which come from the foaming lips are held to be the responses of the god. A vivid idea of this mode of consulting a deity is given by Mr. Williams in the valuable work to which reference has often been made.

“Nothing like regular worship or habitual reverence is found, and a principle of fear seems the only motive for religious observances; and this is fully practised on by the priests, through whom alone the people have access to the gods, when they wish to present petitions affecting their social or individual interest. When matters of importance are involved, the soro or offering consists of large quantities of food, together with whales’ teeth. In smaller affairs a tooth, club, mat, or spear, is enough. Young nuts covered with turmeric powder formed the meanest offering I have known. On one occasion, when Tuikilakila asked the help of the Somo-somo gods in war, he built the war god a large new temple, and presented a quantity of cooked food, with sixty turtles, beside whales’ teeth.

“Part of the offering—the sigana—is set apart for the deity, the rest forming a feast of which all may partake. The portion devoted to the god is eaten by his priest and by old men, but to youths and women it is tapu.

“Strangers wishing to consult a god cut a quantity of fire wood for the temple. Sometimes only a dish of yams or a whale’s tooth is presented. It is not absolutely necessary for the transaction to take place at a temple. I have known priests to become inspired in a private house or in the open air; indeed, in some parts of Fiji, the latter is usually the case.

“One who intends to consult the oracle dresses and oils himself, and, accompanied by a few others, goes to the priest, who, we will suppose, has been previously informed of the intended visit, and is lying near the sacred corner getting ready his response. When the party arrives, he rises and sits so that his back is near to the white cloth by which the god visits him, while the others occupy the opposite side of the Buré. The principal person presents a whale’s tooth, states the purpose of his visit, and expresses a hope that the god will regard him with favor. Sometimes there is placed before the priest a dish of scented oil with which he anoints himself, and then receives the tooth, regarding it with deep and serious attention.

“Unbroken silence follows. The priest becomes absorbed in thought, and all eyes watch him with unblinking steadiness. In a few minutes he trembles; slight distortions are seen in his face, and twitching movements in his limbs. These increase to a violent muscular action, which spreads until the whole frame is strongly convulsed, and the man shivers as with a strong ague fit. In some islands this is accompanied with murmurs and sobs, the veins are greatly enlarged, and the circulation of the blood quickened.

“The priest is now possessed by his god, and all his words and actions are considered as no longer his own, but those of the deity who has entered into him. Shrill cries of ‘Koi au! Koi au!’ (‘It is I! It is I!’) fill the air, and the god is supposed thus to notify his approach. While giving the answer, the priest’s eyes stand out and roll as if in a frenzy; his voice is unnatural, his face pale, his lips livid, his breathing depressed, and his entire appearance like that of a furious madman. The sweat runs from every pore, and tears start from his strained eyes; after which the symptoms gradually disappear. The priest looks round with a vacant stare, and as the god says ‘I depart,’ announces his actual departure by violently flinging himself down on the mat, or by suddenly striking the ground with a club, when those at a distance are informed by blasts on the conch, or the firing of a musket, that the deity has returned into the world of spirits.”

In many cases it is evident that the priests enact deliberate impositions, but it is also certain that in many others they are completely under the dominion of frenzy, and that they do not recollect afterward the words which they uttered while in their delirious state. “My own mind,” said one of them, “departs from me, and then, when it is truly gone, my god speaks by me.”

Various modes of divination are employed by the Fijian priests. They have, for example, divination by the leaf, by the reed, by the nut, and by water. The leaf is tested by taking it between the front teeth and biting it. If it be completely severed, the omen is good; if it hang together, even by a single fibre, the omen is unfavorable. One priest had a very strange mode of divination by the leaf. He had two magic leaves, which he placed on the sides of the applicant, and then left them. If the leaf on the right side stung the skin, the omen was good; but if any plots or treacheries were hatched, the leaf stung the man on the left side, and so warned him of the danger. Another mode of divination by the leaf is to bite it, and judge by the flavor whether the omen be adverse or the contrary.

The reed test is managed as follows. A number of short reeds are cut, and laid in a row on the ground, a name being given to each. The priest then holds his right foot over each, and the response is given by the trembling of the foot.

The water test is performed by holding the straightened arm slightly upward, and pouring a few drops of water on the wrist. If the water should run to the shoulder, the response is favorable; should it fall off at the elbow, the answer is adverse.

The next test is performed by laying a cocoa-nut on a small surface and spinning it. When it stops, the response is given by the direction in which the eye points.

According to Fijian notions, the passage to Buruto or heaven is a very difficult one, except for great chiefs, and the only plan by which a man of inferior rank can hope to obtain admission is by telling the god a lie, and proclaiming himself a chief with so much apparent truthfulness that he is believed, and allowed to pass. Taking on his shoulder his war club and a whale’s tooth, the Fijian spirit goes to the end of the world, where grows a sacred pine, and throws the tooth at it. Should he miss it, he can go no further; but if he hit it, he travels on to a spot where he awaits the arrival of the women who were murdered at his death.

Escorted by them, he proceeds until he is met and opposed by a god called Ravuyalo, whom he fights with his club. Should he fail, he is killed and eaten by the god, and there is an end of him. Should he conquer, he proceeds until he finds a canoe, into which he gets, and is conveyed to the lofty spot where the chief god, Ndengei, lives. Over the precipice extends the long steering oar of the god’s canoe. He is then asked his name and rank, when he replies with a circumstantial account of his grandeur and magnificence, of the countries over which he has ruled, of the deeds which he did in war, and of the devastation which he caused. He is then told to take his seat on the blade of the oar. Should his story have been believed, he is conveyed to Buruto; but should Ndengei disbelieve his story, the oar is tilted up, and he is hurled down the precipice into the water below whence he never emerges.

It has been mentioned that the spirit has to wait for the escort of his wives. This is in order to prove that he is a married man, bachelors having no hope of admission into Buruto. Should a wifeless man start on his journey, he is confronted by a goddess, called the Great Woman, who has a special hatred of bachelors, and, as soon as she sees one, flies at him and tries to tear him in pieces. Sometimes she misses him in her eagerness; but, even in such a case, he has to deal with another god, who hides himself in the spirit path, and, as the soul of the bachelor passes by, he springs on the wretched being, and dashes him to atoms against a stone.

The Burés or temples of the gods abound in Fiji, at least one Buré being found in every village, and some of the villages having many of these buildings. They are made of the same material as the houses, but with much more care. Instead of being merely set on the ground, they are placed on the top of a mound of earth, sometimes only slightly elevated, and sometimes twenty feet or more in height.

The natives think no labor too great for the decoration of a Buré, and it is in those buildings that their marvellous skill in plaiting sinnet is best shown. Every beam, post, and pillar is entirely covered with sinnet plaited into the most beautiful patterns, black and red being the favorite colors; and even the reeds which line the window frames, and fill up the interstices between the pillars, are hidden in the plaited sinnet with which they are covered. So lavish are the natives of their work, that they are not content with covering the pillars and reeds with sinnet work, but they make large plaited cords of the same material, and hang them in festoons from the eaves.

It has already been mentioned that the best houses have the ends of the ridge-poles decorated with cowries, but those of the Buré are adorned with long strings of cowries that sometimes reach the ground. Ordinary laths are thought too common to be used in thatching temples, and the beautifully carved spears of warriors are employed instead of simple wood. When the Buré is erected on a high mound, entrance is gained to it by means of a very thick plank cut into notched steps.

Although the Burés are considered as temples, and dedicated to the god, they are mostly used for secular purposes. Visitors from a distance are generally quartered in them, and in many instances the principal men of the village make the Buré their sleeping-place. Councils are held in the Burés, and entertainments are given in them, of which the offerings to the god form a large part. Sometimes, as has been mentioned, a chief who wishes to propitiate some deity offers a great quantity of food in his temple, and this food is consumed in a general feast. A certain portion is dedicated to the god, and may only be eaten by the priests and the old men, but the remainder may be eaten by any one.

None of the food is left to perish, the Fijians having a convenient belief which combines piety with self-indulgence. The god is supposed to be a great eater, but only to consume the soul of the provisions, so that when food is cooked and offered, the god eats the soul and the people the body. The chief god, Ndengei, used to be both greedy and dainty in his demands for food. He sometimes ate two hundred hogs and a hundred turtles at a single feast, and was continually insisting on human sacrifices. In order to procure these, no respect was paid to persons, and so infatuated were the people that, to keep up Ndengei’s supplies of human food, chiefs were known to kill their own wives.

No regular worship is ever offered in the Burés, which, indeed, are often left to fall into decay until some one desires to consult or propitiate the god, when the building is repaired and cleaned for the occasion. As may be expected, during the building of the Buré several human sacrifices are offered.

If the reader will refer to the drawing of the Buré on the following page, he will see that in front of it are two oddly-shaped objects. These are examples of the sacred stones, several of which are to be found in various parts of Fiji. They are considered as the dwelling-place of certain gods, and are held to be either male or female, according to the sex of the deity who inhabits them. Should the god be of the female sex, the fact is known by a woman’s apron or liku being tied round the stone. One such god is a very useful one, because he hates mosquitoes, and keeps them away from the spot in which he dwells. Food is prepared and offered to those sacred stones, the god as usual, eating the spirit of the food, and the priest and officers consuming its outward form.

We now come to the funeral ceremonies of Fiji, taking those of the chiefs as types of the whole.

Among the Fijians a very singular superstition reigns. When men or women become infirm with age, they are considered to have lived their full time on earth, and preparations are made for their burial. So ingrained is this belief, that if a man finds himself becoming feeble with age or disease, he requests his sons to strangle him, and with this request they think themselves bound to comply. Indeed, if they think that he is too slow in making the request, they suggest to him that he has lived long enough, and ought to rest in the grave. Such conduct seems to imply that they are destitute of affection, but in reality it is their way of showing their love for their parent.

They are really a most affectionate race of people. A young chief has been seen to sob with overpowering emotion at parting from his father for a short time, and yet, were his parents to become ill or infirm, he would think it his duty to apply the fatal rope with his own hands. To be strangled by one’s children, or to be buried alive by them, is considered the most honorable mode of death. The reason for this strange custom seems to be that the Fijians believe the condition of the spirit in the next world to be exactly the same as that of the individual when in life. Consequently, affectionate children are unwilling to allow their parents to pass into the next world in an infirm state of body, and therefore strangle them out of sheer kindness.

From a similar notion of kindness, they also strangle the favorite wives and attendants of the dead chief, so as to provide him with the followers to whom he has been accustomed. They also kill a powerful warrior, in order that he may go before his chief through the passage into the spirit land, and drive away the evil spirits who oppose the progress of a new comer. These victims go by the name of “grass,” and are laid at the bottom of the grave; the warrior painted and dressed for battle, with his favorite club by his side, the women arranged in folds of the finest masi, and the servants with their implements in their hands; so that the inhabitants of the spirit world may see how great a chief has come among them.

All their preparations are carried on in a quiet and orderly manner, the victims never attempting to escape from their fate, but vying with each other for the honor of accompanying their chief. In some cases, when a chief has died young, his mother has insisted on sharing his grave. So deeply do the Fijians feel the necessity for this sacrifice that the custom has been a greater barrier against Christianity even than cannibalism or polygamy, and even those natives who have been converted to Christianity are always uneasy on the subject. On one occasion a Christian chief was shot, and by the same volley a young man was killed. The Christian natives were delighted with the latter catastrophe, inasmuch as it provided an attendant for their slain chief.

The scene which takes place when a great chief is expected to die has been described by Mr. Williams with great power. The King of Somo-somo, a magnificent specimen of the savage, was becoming infirm through age, and toward the middle of August 1845 was unable to do more than walk about a little:—

“I visited him on the 21st, and was surprised to find him much better than he had been two days before. On being told, therefore, on the 24th that the king was dead, and that preparations were being made for his interment, I could scarcely credit the report. The ominous word preparing urged me to hasten without delay to the scene of action, but my utmost speed failed to bring me to Nasima—the king’s house—in time. The moment I entered it was evident that, as far as concerned two of the women, I was too late to save their lives. The effect of that scene was overwhelming. Scores of deliberate murderers in the very act surrounded me: yet there was no confusion, and, except a word from him who presided, no noise, only an unearthly, horrid stillness. Nature seemed to lend her aid and to deepen the dread effect; there was not a breath stirring in the air, and the half-subdued light in that hall of death showed every object with unusual distinctness.

“All was motionless as sculpture, and a strange feeling came upon me, as though I was myself becoming a statue. To speak was impossible; I was unconscious that I breathed; and involuntarily, or rather against my will, I sunk to the floor, assuming the cowering posture of those who were actually engaged in murder. My arrival was during a hush, just at the crisis of death, and to that strange silence must be attributed my emotions; and I was but too familiar with murders of this kind, neither was there anything novel in the apparatus employed. Occupying the centre of that large room were two groups, the business of whom could not be mistaken.

“All sat on the floor; the middle figure of each group being held in a sitting posture by several females, and hidden by a large veil. On either side of each veiled figure was a company of eight or ten strong men, one company hauling against the other on a white cord which was passed twice round the neck of the doomed one, who thus in a few minutes ceased to live. As my self-command was returning to me the group furthest from me began to move; the men slackened their hold, and the attendant women removed the large covering, making it into a couch for the victim.

“As that veil was lifted some of the men beheld the distorted features of a mother whom they had helped to murder, and smiled with satisfaction as the corpse was laid out for decoration. Convulsion strongly on the part of the poor creature near me showed that she still lived. She was a stout woman, and some of the executioners jocosely invited those who sat near to have pity and help them. At length a woman said, ‘she is cold.’ The fatal cord fell, and as the covering was raised I saw dead the oldest wife and unwearied attendant of the old king.”

Leaving the house of murder, Mr. Williams went to the hut of the deceased king, determining to see his successor, and beg him to spare the lives of the intended victims.

To his horror and astonishment, he found that the king was still alive. He was lying on his couch, very feeble, but perfectly conscious, every now and then placing his hand to his side as he was racked by cough. The young king was full of grief. He embraced his visitor with much emotion, saying, “See, the father of us two is dead.” It was useless to dispute the point. The poor old king certainly did move and speak and eat; but, according to the son’s ideas, the movements were only mechanical, the spirit having left the body.

So the preparations for his funeral went on. His chief wife and an assistant employed themselves in covering his body with black powder, as if dressing him for the war dance, and fastening upon his arms and legs a number of long strips of white masi, tied in rosettes, with the ends streaming on the ground. They had already clad him in a new masi of immense size, the white folds of which were wrapped round his feet. In place of the usual masi turban, a scarlet handkerchief was bound on his hair with a circlet of white cowrie-shells, and strings of the same shells decorated his arms, while round his neck was an ivory necklace, made of long curved claw-like pieces of whale’s teeth.

The reader may perhaps wonder that the chief wife of the king was suffered to live. The fact was that the young king would not allow her to be killed, because no executioner of sufficient rank could be found. She lamented her hard lot in being forbidden to accompany her husband to the spirit land, and begged to be strangled, but without success.

Presently the sound of two conch-shell trumpets was heard outside the house, this being the official intimation that the old king was dead, and the new king was then formally acknowledged by the chiefs who were present. He seemed overcome with grief, and, gazing on the body of his father’s attendant, he exclaimed, “Alas, Moalevu! There lies a woman truly wearied, not only in the day but in the night also; the fire consumed the fuel gathered by her hands. If we awoke in the still night, the sound of our feet reached her ears, and, if spoken to harshly, she continued to labor only. Moalevu! Alas, Moalevu!”

The bodies of the murdered women were then rolled up in mats, placed on a bier, and carried out of the door, but the old king was taken through a breach made in the wall of the house. The bodies were carried down to the seaside and placed in a canoe, the king being on the deck, attended by his wife and the Mata, who fanned him and kept off the insects.

When they arrived at Weilangi, the place of sepulture, they found the grave already dug, and lined with mats. The bodies of the women were laid side by side in the grave, and on them the dying king. The shell ornaments were then taken from him, and he was entirely enveloped in mats, after which the earth was filled in, and thus he was buried alive. The poor old man was even heard to cough after a quantity of earth had been heaped on him.

This final scene is represented in an illustration on the 980th page. In the foreground is seen the open grave, with the bodies of the murdered women lying in it as “grass.” The still living king is being borne to the grave by the attendants, while his successor sits mournfully surveying a scene which he knows will be re-enacted in his own case, should he live to be old and infirm. Just above the grave are the rolls of fine mats with which the body of the king is to be covered before the earth is filled in; and in the background appears the mast of the canoe which brought the party to the burial-ground.

The reader cannot but notice the resemblance between this Fijian custom of strangling the wives and the well-known suttee of India. In both cases the women are the foremost to demand death, and for the same reason. Just as the Hindoo women arrange their own funeral pile, and light it with their own hands, the Fijian woman helps to dig her own grave, lines it with mats and then seats herself in it.

The fact is, that the woman has positively no choice in the matter; a wife who survives her husband is condemned to a life of neglect, suffering, and insult, so that the short agony of immediate death is preferable to such a fate, especially as by yielding to the national custom she believes that she shall secure a happy and honored life in the spirit land. Moreover, her relatives are bound by custom to insist upon her death, as, if they did not follow this custom, they would be accused of disrespect toward her husband and his family, and would run the risk of being clubbed in revenge.

In consequence of this horrid custom, the population of Fiji has been greatly checked, for not only is there the direct sacrifice of life, but much indirect loss is occasioned. Many of the murdered women are mothers, whose children die for want of maternal care, so that, what with the perpetual feuds and continual murders, the custom of cannibalism, the sacrifice of wives with their husbands, the strangling of the old or sick, and the death of children by neglect, very few Fijians die from natural causes. Mr. Williams mentions that in a class of nine children under his charge, the parents had all been murdered with the exception of two, and these had been condemned to death, and only saved through the exertions of the missionaries.

After a king is buried, sundry ceremonies are observed. For twenty days or so, no one eats until the evening, the people shave their heads either partially or entirely, and the women cut off their fingers, which are inserted in split reeds, and stuck along the eaves of the royal house. Those who are nearly related to the dead king show their grief by refusing to wear their usual dress, and substituting rude garments of leaves. They often deny themselves the luxury of a mat to lie upon, and pass their nights on the grave of their friend. The coast is rendered tapu for a certain distance, no one being allowed to fish until the proper time has elapsed, and the cocoa-nut trees are placed under a similar restriction.

Various strange rites take place on certain days after the funeral. On the fourth day the friends assemble, and celebrate the melancholy ceremony called the “jumping of maggots,” in which they symbolize the progress of corruption. Next evening is one of a directly opposite character, called the “causing to laugh,” in which the immediate friends and relatives of the dead are entertained with comic games. On the tenth day the women have an amusing ceremony of their own. Arming themselves with whips, switches, or cords, they fall upon every man whom they meet, without respect to age or rank, the greatest chiefs only being exempt from this persecution. The men are not allowed to retaliate, except by flinging mud at their assailants, and those who have witnessed the scene say that nothing more ludicrous can be imagined than to see grave, elderly men running in all directions, pursued by the women with their whips and switches.

The last ceremony is the completion of some special work begun in honor of the dead. It may be the erection of a house, the making of a huge ball of sinnet, a great bale of cloth, and, in any case, it bears the name of the person in whose honor it was undertaken. Building large canoes is a favorite form of this custom, and, during the whole time that the work is in progress, the canoe is put to sleep at night by the beating of drums, and awakened every morning in a similar manner, when the carpenters come to their work.

A curious ceremony takes place in Fiji when one of the principal chiefs has died. It is called the loloku of the sail, and is a sort of a signal of honor. Whenever a canoe approaches the coast for the first time since the death of the chief, the vessel is obliged to show the loloku. This is generally a long strip of masi tied to the head of the mast, and as soon as the canoe touches the land, both the sail and masi are thrown into the water. Sometimes, when the owner of the canoe is tolerably rich, he adds to the simple loloku a whale’s tooth, which is flung from the mast-head into the water, when the people dive and scramble for it.

Should the chief perish at sea, or be killed in a warlike expedition, and be eaten by his enemies, the loloku is shown as carefully as if he had been buried on shore, and his relatives try to compensate him for his adverse fate, by killing an unusual number of women as his attendants. Nearly twenty women have thus been sacrificed on the death of a young chief who was drowned at sea.

The graves of chiefs and their wives are marked by tombs. These are sometimes nothing but stones at the head and foot of the grave, or large cairns of stones piled on the deceased. Sometimes they are roofs from three to six feet in height, decorated, after Fijian custom, with patterns worked in sinnet.

One tomb, that of a chief’s wife, was a very remarkable one. Her husband had a large mound of earth thrown up, and faced with stones. On the top of the mound was a double canoe, forty feet in length, held firmly in its place by being imbedded in earth. Fine shingle was strewn on the deck, and mats were spread on the shingle for the reception of the body. Sand was then heaped over the canoe, and on the sand was laid the body of a little child of whom the deceased woman had been very fond. Over all was then built a large roof, made of mahogany, and adorned with white cowrie-shells.