THE PRIESTS THE HISTORIANS OF THE SOCIETY ISLANDS — THE MARO, OR KING’S ROBE, AND ITS HISTORICAL VALUE — THE HEREDITARY TITLE OF THE KING — THE KING’S BEARER — ARCHITECTURE IN THE SOCIETY ISLANDS — TAHITAN WARFARE — RETENTIVE MEMORY, AND ITS USE IN WAR — BEHAVIOR OF THE VICTORS TOWARD THE VANQUISHED — NAVAL BATTLES AND MANŒUVRES — MILITARY ETIQUETTE — HUMAN SACRIFICE BEFORE BATTLES — CAPTAIN COOK’S ACCOUNT OF THE CEREMONY — FUNERALS AMONG THE TAHITANS — EMBALMING OF A CHIEF’S BODY — STRANGE DRESS OF THE CHIEF MOURNER — THE AREOI SOCIETY, AND THE INFLUENCE WHICH IT EXERTED ON THIS GROUP OF ISLANDS — LEGENDARY TALES OF THE AREOIS.

The priests performed the office of historians as well as of hierophants, every chief of consequence having in his household at least one of these men, who made it his business to chant on all great occasions the most important events which had happened in the country, and especially those which affected the family of his patron. Not only did he relate those events of which he had been a witness, but he also sang of the deeds of past days, the records of which had been transmitted to him by his predecessors.

The priests were, therefore, the only historians of the Society Islands; and, indeed, there was no other mode of delivering to each succeeding generation the traditions of the past. As, however, much of their accuracy depended on the memory of the historian, and as that memory was likely to fade by age, it naturally followed that the history of earlier times was considerably modified by each succeeding narrator. Tamatoa was himself a well-known chronicler, and could repeat a wonderful number of narratives, in which fact and fiction were mixed together in a manner that exactly resembled the semi-mythic history of ancient Greece and Rome.

These chroniclers, though they were unable to write, were not without some means whereby they could refresh their memories. Chief of these was the Maro, the sacred scarf of royalty. The word “Maro” signifies the simple girdle which the men wear by way of clothing, but that of the king is called, by way of pre-eminence, The Maro; and, like the crown of an emperor, is only worn when the kingly rank is conferred. When not in use, it is rolled up in native cloth so as to make a large bundle, and is only untied when it is wanted. When Captain Cook saw it he described it as being fifteen feet long, but when Mr. Bennett was in the Society Islands it measured twenty-one feet in length, the additional measurement being due to the coronation of successive kings. It is only six inches in width, and when worn is rolled round the body, so that the end flows far behind on the ground. It is covered with the precious red feathers, and to it is attached the needle with which it is worked. So sacred is the maro thought to be, that, according to the ideas of the natives, whenever a new stitch was taken the event was marked by peals of thunder.

The maro was never intended to be finished, but, according to the original projection, would receive an addition at the coronation of every new king, so that it would continue to increase in length as long as the kingly succession was kept up. In several respects it bears a great resemblance to the Bayeux tapestry. It is very long in proportion to its width, and the patterns described upon it are records of the time when the maro was woven, and act as aids to the memory of the professional historians, who celebrate in their songs the deeds of past days.

The manufacture of the maro was stopped in a very curious manner. After Tamatoa became a Christian, he was so horrified at the unspeakable iniquity of the ceremonies that took place at each lengthening of the maro that he determined to destroy the maro itself. Fortunately, instead of destroying it, he gave it up to his teachers, and it was sent, together with many specimens of the idolatrous arts of Polynesia, to the museum of the London Missionary Society. I may here mention that Tamatoa is the hereditary name of the king, like the Pharaoh of Egypt and the Finow of Tonga.

All the kings, or rather the principal chiefs, have the greatest idea of their dignity, and are regarded by their subjects almost as demigods. Like some of the African royalties, they are carried on men’s shoulders when they travel from one place to another by land, and when they go by sea they are said to fly and not to sail. There is a special language for the king, whose canoe is called the Rainbow, and whose house is termed the Cloud of Heaven. No one is allowed to stand above him: and this idea is so strongly impressed upon him that a great chief dislikes going into the cabin of an European ship, lest an inferior should tread on the deck over his head. The king even claims authority over the language. We speak in England familiarly of the king or queen’s English. In the Society Islands the language really does belong to the king, who invents and alters words according to his own caprice, and even strikes out of the language those words which he does not happen to like.

The power of the king being so absolute, it might be imagined that the house in which he lived would be far superior to those of his subjects. His power is, however, more real than apparent, and though he has despotic authority, he is lodged, clothed, and fed, scarcely better than any of his subjects, and not in the least better than the chiefs. His house is built in the same manner and of the same materials as those of his subjects. It is certainly larger, because it has to accommodate more persons; but in other respects it is in no way superior.

The houses of the Society Islands are, indeed, little more than thatched roofs supported on pillars about seven or eight feet in height, the pillars tapering from the base to the top, and not being quite upright, but sloping a little inward. The floor is generally covered with grass and mats, while to the rafters of the roof are hung baskets, bundles of cloth, and other property.

Warfare among the Society Islands differs little from the mode which is practised in many other parts of Polynesia, and therefore does not require a lengthened notice.

Formerly, when their weapons were the spear, the club, and the sling, the wars used to be very protracted and caused much bloodshed, but the later introduction of fire-arms has had its usual effect, and not only reduced the number of wars but the loss of life in battle.

Some of their spears were dreadful weapons, the worst of which seems to have been a sort of trident, something like an eel spear. The head of it was armed with three bones from the tail of the sting-ray. They were not fastened to the head of the spear, but only slipped into sockets, just tightly enough to hold them. When an enemy was struck with either of these points, it became detached from the spear, and, in consequence of its peculiarly barbed edges, kept working its way deeper and deeper into the body, so that certain death was the result of a wound with one of these spears.

The natives of the Society Islands also used the bone of the sting-ray for secret assassination. They watched the intended victim while he slept, and, by gently touching him with a feather, made him turn about until he was in a favorable position. The fatal dagger was then struck into the body, and the assassin made his escape, being sure that the wound must sooner or later be mortal.

The peculiar character of the people shows itself in other ways. They are most tenacious of memory in everything that has a personal interest to them, and are equally unwilling to forget an injury or a benefit. They will cherish a life-long vengeance against any one who has offended them, so that one man has been known to follow another from year to year, from one island to another, with the certainty and tenacity of the bloodhound, and never to cease from his quest until he has avenged himself upon his enemy. There is, however, a redeeming point in this trait of character, namely, that although it is mostly exercised for evil purposes, it sometimes takes the opposite course. Mr. Bennett mentions that on one occasion, after a battle, a chief of the victorious side knew that among the flying enemy was a man who had shown a kindness to him in a former war. Knowing the fate that would befall the man if he fell into the hands of the victors, he followed on the track of the fugitive, and after seeking his friend from cover to cover, and from bush to bush, he at last discovered him, took him to his own house, kept him there for a time, and then dismissed him in safety.

Cruelty toward the vanquished is one of the invariable accompaniments of savage warfare, and we cannot expect to find that the Society Islanders are more free from it than others. The only cannibalism of which they are guilty is in connection with war, and even on those occasions the victorious party only eat a small portion of the dead adversary’s body, in accordance with custom, and do not feast upon human flesh, as many of the Polynesians do.

They are, however, on some occasions very cruel to the captured or wounded enemies, absolutely tearing them to pieces by degrees, and taking care to avoid the vital parts, so as to prolong the agony of the sufferer as much as possible. Even Pomaré, before he became a Christian, was guilty of many abominable atrocities. He has been known to take the children of vanquished chiefs, run sinnet cords through the backs of their necks, and drag them about until they died of the torture.

Even when the enemy was dead, the victors could not be content without insulting the senseless corpse. “When a combatant had slain a distinguished adversary,” writes Mr. Bennett, “after the fray was over, the perishing carcass was left upon the field for a day or two. It was then dragged to the marae, when the victor and his friends would stand over it, and exult in the most savage manner over the corrupted mass.

“Each taking a fibrous wand of cocoa-nut leaf, tough as whalebone, in his hand, to employ as a drumstick, they would beat the body with these till they were weary; saying to it, ‘Aha! we have you now; your tongue fills your mouth, your eyes stand out of your head, and your face is swollen; so would it have been with us, had you prevailed.’ Then, after a pause, they would renew their impotent stripes and not less impotent taunts. ‘Now you are dead, you will no more plague us. We are revenged upon you; and so you would have revenged yourself on us, if you had been the strongest in battle.’ Again: ‘Aha! you will drink no more kava; you will kill no more men; you will disembowel no more of our wives and daughters. As we use you, you would have used us; but we are the conquerors, and we have our vengeance.’

“When they had tired themselves, and beaten the flesh of the corpse to a mummy, they broke the arms above the elbows, placed flowers within the hands, and, fastening a rope about the neck, they suspended the mangled remains on a tree, and danced with fiend-like exultation about it, laughing and shouting as the wind blew the dislocated limbs and the rent muscles to and fro.”

The canoe fights show some skill in manœuvres. The war canoes are double, with a platform laid across the bars, forming a sort of stage, on which the warriors stand to fight. The movements of the canoes are directed by one man, who tries to take the adversary at a disadvantage, and orders the vessel to advance or retreat as he thinks best, while the warriors are dancing on the platform, and exciting themselves to rage by frantic shouts, brandishing club and spear, and exchanging defiances with the enemy when near enough. As soon as one of them can take the other favorably, the canoes close, and the warriors from one try to board the other and kill its defenders.

The reserves receive and take care of the wounded, laying them in the bottom of the canoe, where they are safe from the weapons of the enemy, and in their turn take the place of those who are disabled, so that a constant succession of fresh warriors is continually coming to the front. When at last one party gets the better of the other, those of the vanquished side who are able to use their limbs leap overboard and try to save themselves by swimming. They have, indeed, no other alternative, for no quarter is ever given or expected, and if the lives of the vanquished be spared at the time, it is only that the unfortunate men may be tortured to death next day.

When Captain Cook visited the Society Islands, he found that all the decisive battles were fought by water, and that such a thing as a great battle on land was never thought of. Indeed, the chief strength of these insular people lies in their canoes, and in a sea fight a great number of them were usually engaged. In such a sea fight, whenever one party found themselves being worsted, they immediately made for the beach, drew their canoes ashore, jumped out, and made the best of their way to the hills, where they concealed themselves during the day, and at night slipped off to their own homes.

When a pitched battle of this kind is determined upon, it is fought out very fairly, and becomes a sort of general tournament. The two opposing chiefs arrange with each other as to the time and place for the battle. The whole of the day and night preceding the battle are occupied by both parties in feasting and dancing, evidently on the principle that, if they are to be killed on the morrow, they may as well enjoy themselves while they can. Before daybreak the canoes are launched and made ready for battle, and with the dawn the fight commences.

After the engagement is over, and the vanquished have run away, the victors go in great triumph to the maraes, where they return thanks to their gods, and offer to them the dead, the wounded, and the prisoners whom they have taken. The chief of the conquered party then opens negotiations with his successful opponent, and a treaty is arranged, in which peace is restored on certain conditions. These are often very hard, and force the vanquished to give up large tracts of land as well as to pay heavy fines in property. Sometimes a whole district changes masters, and, in one or two cases, an entire island has been added to the conquerors.

As human sacrifices have several times been mentioned, it will be as well to describe the circumstances under which they take place. We have already seen that in times of war the captured enemies are offered to the idols. There is a sort of excuse for this act, the idea being that, as the captives had sought the lives of the worshippers of the gods, their own lives should be sacrificed to them as an atonement for their presumption.

There are, however, other occasions on which such sacrifices are offered, and where the victim is selected by the chief and killed in cold blood. If, for example, the king or principal chief of an island or district should project a war against another, he generally sacrifices a man to his god in order to bespeak his aid against the enemy. One of these sacrifices was seen by Captain Cook in 1777. He did not witness the actual murder of the victim, who was killed, as usual, unawares, by a blow from a stone, but saw the body as it was prepared for offering, and was present at the curious ceremony which accompanied the sacrifice.

It appeared that Towha, the chief of his district, intended to make war against the island of Eimeo, and sent a message to his friend and relative Otoo that he had sacrificed a man, and wished for Otoo’s presence when the body was offered at the great marae of Attahooroo. Having previously doubted whether the usually mild and gentle Tahitans would really offer human sacrifices, Captain Cook asked permission to accompany Otoo, and accordingly went with him to the marae. The party accordingly embarked in their canoes, taking with them a miserable, half-starved dog, which was to form part of the sacrifice.

When they arrived at the landing-place, they found the body of the slain man already there, lying in a canoe which was half in and half out of the water, just in front of the marae. Otoo, his visitors, and the chiefs halted about ten yards from the body, while the rest of the people looked on from a distance.

“The ceremonies now began. One of the priests’ attendants brought a young plantain tree, and laid it down before Otoo. Another approached with a small tuft of red feathers, twisted on some fibres of the cocoa-nut husk, with which he touched one of the king’s feet, and then retired with it to his companions.

“One of the priests, seated at the marae, facing those that were upon the beach, now began a long prayer; and, at certain times, sent down young plantain trees, which were laid upon the sacrifice. During this prayer a man, who stood by the officiating priest, held in his hand two bundles, seemingly of cloth. In one of them, as we afterward found, was the royal maro; and the other, if I may be allowed the expression, was the ark of the Eatooa (i. e. the Atua, or god). As soon as the prayer was ended, the priests at the marae, with their attendants, went and sat down with those upon the beach, carrying with them the two bundles.

“Here they renewed their prayers; during which the plantain trees were taken, one by one, at different times, from off the sacrifice, which was partly wrapped up in cocoa leaves and small branches. It was now taken out of the canoe and laid upon the beach, with the feet to the sea. The priests placed themselves around it, some sitting and others standing; and one or more of them repeated sentences for about ten minutes. The dead body was now uncovered by removing the leaves and branches, and laid in a parallel direction by the sea-shore.

“One of the priests then, standing at the feet of it, pronounced a long prayer, in which he was at times joined by the others; each holding in his hand a tuft of red feathers. In the course of this prayer some hair was pulled off the head of the sacrifice, and the left eye taken out; both which were presented to Otoo, wrapped up in a green leaf. He did not, however, touch it, but gave to the man who presented it the tuft of feathers which he had received from Towha. This, with the hair and eye, was carried back to the priests.

“Soon after, Otoo sent to them another piece of feathers, which he had given me in the morning to keep in my pocket. During some part of this last ceremony, a kingfisher making a noise in the trees, Otoo turned to me, saying, ‘That is the Eatooa,’ and seemed to look upon it as a good omen.

“The body was then carried a little way, with its head toward the marae, and laid under a tree, near which were fixed three broad thin pieces of wood, differently but rudely carved. The bundles of cloth were laid on a part of the marae; and the tufts of red feathers were placed at the feet of the sacrifice, round which the priests took their stations; and we were now allowed to go as near as we pleased.

“He who seemed to be the chief priest sat at a small distance, and spoke for a quarter of an hour, but with different tones and gestures; so that he seemed often to expostulate with the dead person—to whom he constantly addressed himself—and sometimes asked several questions, seemingly with respect to the propriety of his having been killed. At other times he made several demands, as if the deceased either now had power himself, or interest with the divinity, to engage him to comply with such requests. Amongst which, we understood, he asked him to deliver Eimeo, Maheine its chief, the hogs, women, and other things of the island, into their hands,—which was indeed the express intention of the sacrifice. He then chanted a prayer, which lasted near half an hour, in a whining, melancholy tone, accompanied by two other priests, and in which Potatau and some others joined. In the course of this prayer some more hair was plucked by a priest from the head of the corpse, and put upon one of the bundles.

“After this, the chief priest prayed alone, holding in his hand the feathers which came from Towha. When he had finished, he gave them to another, who prayed in like manner. Then all the tufts of feathers were laid upon the bundles of cloth; which closed the ceremony at this place.

“The corpse was then carried up to the most conspicuous part of the marae, with the feathers, the two bundles of cloth, and the drums, the last of which beat slowly. The feathers and bundles were laid against the pile of stones, and the corpse at the foot of them. The priests having again seated themselves round it, renewed their prayers, while some of the attendants dug a hole about two feet deep, into which they threw the unhappy victim, and covered it over with earth and stones. While they were putting him into the grave a boy squeaked aloud, and Omai said to me that it was the Eatooa.

“During this time, a fire having been made, the dog before mentioned was produced, and killed, by twisting his neck, and suffocating him. The hair was singed off, and the entrails taken out and thrown into the fire, where they were left to consume. But the heart, liver, and kidneys were only roasted, by being laid on hot stones for a few minutes; and the body of the dog, after being besmeared with the blood, which had been collected in a cocoa-nut shell, and dried over the fire, was with the liver, &c., carried and laid down before the priests, who sat praying round the grave.

“They continued their ejaculations over the dog for some time, while two men at intervals beat on two drums very loud, and a boy screamed as before in a loud shrill voice three different times. This, as we were told, was to invite the Eatooa to feast on the banquet that they had prepared for him. As soon as the priests had ended their prayers, the carcass of the dog with what belonged to it were laid on a whatta, or scaffold, about six feet high, that stood close by, on which lay the remains of two other dogs, and of two pigs, which had lately been sacrificed, and at this time emitted an intolerable stench. This kept us at a greater distance than would otherwise have been required of us; for after the victim was removed from the seaside toward the marae we were allowed to approach as near as we pleased. Indeed, after that, neither seriousness nor attention were much observed by the spectators. When the dog was put upon the whatta, the priests and attendants gave a kind of shout, which closed the ceremonies for the present.”

The scene is well represented in illustration No. 1, on the opposite page. In the foreground is the canoe, in which lies the body of the slain victim, attended by two priests; while just above it on the shore is the dog that is intended to furnish the second portion of the offering. Just in front of the house are two platforms, on the taller of which lie the dogs and pigs that have already been sacrificed, and on the lower lies the embalmed body of the late king, which is brought out for inspection. In front of the bier are the drummers performing on their elaborately carved instruments. A portion of the marae is seen on the left hand of the illustration, and on it lie the skulls of the human sacrifices that have been offered on various occasions.

Next day the ceremonies were resumed; more pigs were killed, some gifts were laid upon the movable house in which the Atua (or god) was carried about, and a young plantain tree was plucked up and laid at the feet of the king.

The mysterious bundles of cloth which had been laid on the marae were then unrolled, and out of one of them was taken the sacred maro, or royal girdle, which has already been described. It was remarkable for the fact that a portion of the scarlet feathers with which the maro is decorated were sewed upon an English pennant which had been hoisted by Captain Wallis when he landed on the island, and left flying when he left it. The second bundle contained the idol to whom the sacrifices were made.

Another hog was then killed, and the entrails inspected, exactly after the manner employed by the old Roman augurs; and the ceremony ended with rolling up the Atua, together with a number of scarlet feathers, in the bundle of cloth from which it had been taken.

At the funerals of very great men human sacrifices are often made, and near the large whattas, or platforms, on which the pigs and other provisions are offered, there are numbers of human skulls, each a relic of a human sacrifice. The only redeeming point about these sacrifices is, that the victim is quite unconscious of his fate. He is struck to the ground suddenly by an assassin who comes stealthily upon him, and never feels the real bitterness of death, namely, the dread of the coming fate.

The bodies of great chiefs undergo a process by which they are preserved for a considerable time. Captain Cook saw the corpse of a chief who had been dead for several months, and whose body had suffered scarcely any apparent change. There was a slight contraction of the muscles and sinking of the eyes, but the body was otherwise perfect; and when the attendants on the corpse unrolled the cloth in which it was enveloped, the limbs were found to be nearly as pliant as in life.

This result is obtained by removing the whole of the interior of the body, supplying its place with cloth soaked in cocoa-nut oil, and anointing the whole body repeatedly with the same substance. The bodies are exposed to public view for some time; but the embalming only postpones the process of decay, and, sooner or later, decomposition does its work. At first the body is exposed for several hours daily, provided that there be no rain; but by degrees it is only shown at intervals, and at last is scarcely ever exhibited, except by request.

There is a special building, called a tupapau, in which the bodies of chiefs are exhibited when lying in state. First, there is a tolerably large house, with a palisade around it, and within this house is the tupapau itself. It is made exactly like the little pent-houses that are built upon the larger canoes, and is profusely decorated with scarlet feathers, cloth, and other precious ornaments. Two men are attached to the tupapau, who watch over it night and day, attend to the proper arrangement of the cloth and feathers, receive the offerings of fruit and provisions that are constantly made, and prevent intruders from venturing within the palisades.

The second illustration on the 1077th page exhibits the manner in which the bodies of ordinary chiefs are laid out under the protection of a covered shed, as well as the extraordinary dress worn by the chief mourner. The dress is composed in the most ingenious manner of mother-of-pearl shell, feathers, bark cloth, and similar materials, and has a peculiarly startling appearance from the contrast between the glittering white of the pearl-shell and the dark feathers with which the shell is surrounded. Several of these extraordinary dresses have been brought to England, and may be seen in different collections.

Before leaving the Society Islands, it will be necessary to mention an extraordinary institution that in former times prevailed among them. It consisted of a society called the “Areois.” They were worshippers of the god Oro; and though they formed a single confraternity throughout all the Society group, each island furnished its own members.

Some writers have likened the society to that of Freemasonry; but no two institutions can be more utterly opposed than those of the Masonic and the Areoi societies—the one insisting on monotheism, while the other is based on idolatry; the one being an universal, and the other a local society; the one inculcating morality, and the other being formed for the express purpose of throwing aside the small relics of morality possessed by a native Polynesian.

It is not improbable, however, that on its first foundation the Areoi society possessed something of a religious nature. When Areois who had been converted to Christianity managed to shake off the dread with which they contemplated any reference to the mysteries of their society, they all agreed in the main points, though differing in details.

In the first place, the Areois believed in the immortality of the soul, and in the existence of a heaven suited to their own characters. Those who rose to high rank in the Areoi society were believed, after their death, to hold corresponding rank in their heaven, which they called by the name of Rohutu-noa-noa, or Fragrant Paradise. All those who entered were restored to the vigor and bloom of youth, no matter what might be their age; and in almost every respect the resemblance between the Polynesian Rohutu and the Mohammedan Paradise is close and almost startling.

The method by which this Paradise was to be gained was most extraordinary. Fanatics of an ordinary turn of mind believe that everlasting happiness hereafter is to be gained by self-denial and mortification of the body during the present life. The Areois, with an almost sublime audacity, held precisely the opposite view, and proclaimed both by words and deeds that a life of eternal enjoyment in the next world was to be obtained by leading a life of unbridled license in the present world.

In order to carry out this theory to the fullest extent, the Areois formed themselves into a society, and travelled about from one island to another, disseminating their peculiar opinions wherever they went, and gaining fresh recruits to their number in each island. On one occasion Captain Cook saw seventy canoes filled with Areois set off on an expedition to the different islands. Wherever they landed, they proceeded to the nearest marae, and offered a sacrifice of a sucking pig to the god who presided over it, this sacrifice being in the first place a thank-offering to the god for their safe landing, and in the next a notification that they wanted pigs for themselves.

Partly on account of the terror inspired by their numbers and unanimity, and partly on account of the spread of their very intelligible doctrines, the invitation always met with an immediate response, and great numbers of pigs, together with vegetable food, cloth, kava, and other luxuries were produced. A great feast was then held, during which the peculiar doctrines of the society were carried out to the full, and a scene ensued such as cannot be described.

Among the worst of their doctrines was that which declared them all to be celibates, because the god Oro was unmarried. Consequently, the existence of children among them could not be recognized, and as soon as a child was born, it was murdered, and the fact of its existence ignored. By a similarly convenient fiction, all Areois were presumed to be in the full vigor of human life. Consequently, the possibility of age and debility was ignored, and in order to prove the non-existence of either senility or sickness, any old or sick person was quietly buried alive. The victims were never apprized of their fate, as is the case in Fiji, but a grave was dug surreptitiously, the sick person was decoyed to it on some pretence or other, dropped into the grave, the earth flung on him, and stamped down almost before he had time for a remonstrance.

Sometimes, when provisions ran short, the Areois had a very strange method of supplying themselves. A party of them, led by some chief, whose rank was known by the marks tattooed on his body, would visit a house where they saw evidences of prosperity, and look about until they came on a little boy—an easy matter enough in a country where polygamy is practised. They would then take the child, and go through various ceremonies, by which they represented him as having been raised to kingly rank.

They would then simulate the utmost deference to the new king, place him on an elevated seat, prostrate themselves before him, and appeal to him as though he really held the kingly rank. “We are come to the king’s house, poor, naked, and hungry. We need raiment—give us that piece of cloth. We need food—give us that pig.” Accordingly, the father of the child was forced to fall in with their humor, and, in return for the honor conferred upon his house, to give them whatever they demanded.

The only redeeming point of the Areois was their value in keeping up the old historical records of the islands. The food and clothing which they obtained from the various people were repaid by the dramatic performances and recitations which they gave, and which debased as they were by the licentious element which permeated every section of the society, performed toward their local history the same part which the ancient mysteries performed toward the Christian religion. The Polynesians being unable to read or write, and having no mode of recording historical events except by tradition, these performances rendered as it were history visible, and enacted before the eyes of the illiterate people the deeds of days long gone by.

Sometimes the story was that of a celebrated ancestor, much on a par with the semi-mythical legends of ancient European and Asiatic history, and sometimes it took a graver cast, and narrated the deeds and powers of the native gods. For example, the legend of Taroa, the father of gods and men, was somewhat as follows:—

In ages long gone by, Taroa existed only in the form of a vast egg, and hung high in the firmament, inclosing in the shell the sun, moon, and stars. After floating in ether for ages, he thrust his hands through the shell, so that the light of the sun burst upon the universe and illumined the earth beneath him. And the earth was then small as it lay beneath him. Then Taroa saw the sands of the sea, and cried to them, “Sands, come up to me, and be my companions.” But the sands replied, “We belong to the earth and sea, O Taroa, and may not leave them. Come thou down to us.” Then he saw the rocks and cliffs, and cried to them, “Rocks come up to me, and be my companions.” But the rocks replied, “We are rooted in the earth, O Taroa, and may not leave it. Come thou to us.”

Then Taroa descended, and cast off his shell, which immediately added itself to the ground, and the earth was increased to its present dimensions, while the sun and moon shone above. Long did Taroa live on the earth which he peopled with men and women; and at last the time came when he should depart from it. He transformed himself into a large canoe, which was filled with islanders, when a great storm arose, and suddenly the canoe was filled with blood. The islanders with their calabashes baled out the blood, which ran to the east and west of the sea; and ever afterward the blood of Taroa is seen in the clouds which accompany the rising and setting sun, and, as of old tinges the waves with red.

When the canoe came to land, it was but the skeleton of Taroa, which was laid on the ground with its face downward, and from that time all the houses of the gods have been built on the model of Taroa’s skeleton, the thatched roofs representing the backbone and the posts the ribs.

Legends such as these are often transmitted from one reciter to another, and recited verbatim, being merely illustrated and exemplified by such poetical digressions as the mind of the narrator may suggest. With others, on the contrary, the orator has only the mere skeleton, and tells the story in the manner that seems him best.