Chapter VI: Part 6

The district of Papara, of which the village of about five hundred inhabitants is the seat of the local government, is the most fertile and prosperous of all the seventeen districts into which the island is at present divided. Tati Salmon, son of Ariitaimai, the famed chiefess and historian of the island, is the present chief. He was educated in London, is highly respected by the foreigners and natives alike, and owns about one-third of the island. He lives in a charming old-fashioned house, the original part of which was built more than a century ago. The house is situated at the mouth of a large mountain stream, and faces the broad lagoon hemmed in by a coral reef, over which the surf dashes from day to day and from year to year with the same regularity, with the same splashing and moaning sounds of the waves as they leap from the restless ocean beyond into the peaceful bosom of the calm lagoon.

Papara, like all of the native villages, is located on the circular road familiarly known as the ninety-mile drive. The road from Papeete to Papara, a distance of twenty miles, leads through the most picturesque and interesting part of the island. The road is a genuine chaussee, constructed at great expense by the French government, and is kept in excellent repair. For the most part it follows the coast in full view of the lagoon and the ocean beyond, and, for more than one-half of the distance, the smaller volcanic sister island, Moorea, is in sight. The mountains are constantly in sight, ceaselessly changing in their aspects with distance and change of perspective. The narrow strip of coast-land is covered with a thick layer of the most productive soil upon a foundation of rock and red volcanic earth. Vegetation everywhere is rampant and extends from the very edge of the lagoon to the naked pinnacles of the mountains. In many places the road skirts the foot-hills, and at different points the precipitous mountains rise from the bed of the lagoon, where the road-bed had to be made by blasting away a part of their firm foundation of volcanic stone.

The traveler on the whole trip is never without the companionship of the branchless, slender, graceful cocoa-palms, with their terminal crown of giant leaves, clusters of blossoms, and nuts of all sizes and stages of maturity. A stately forest of cocoa-palms like those found on the coast of Tahiti is a sight that can not fail to interest and fascinate the Northerner fresh from zero weather, snow and ice. The straight, columnar trunks, with their sail-like terminal fronds and clusters of fruit in all stages of development from the blossom to the golden yellow of the ripe nut, are objects of study and admiration which create in the visitor a strong and lasting attachment for the tropics. There is no other spot on the globe where the tourist can see larger and more beautiful palm forests than on the circular road between Papeete and Papara. The cocoa-palm is queen here, as there is no other tree among its many neighbors that has succeeded in equaling it in height. The lofty, proud head of the palm has no competitor; it is alone in that stratum of air and looks down upon the plebeian trees beneath with a sense of superiority, if not of scorn. For miles this road passes through magnificent forests of cocoa-palms, with a heavy undergrowth of guava, extending from the shore high up the foot-hills and mountainsides. The cocoa-palm is fond of salt water and thrives best when its innumerable slender, long roots can imbibe it from the briny shore.

The pandanus tree is even more partial to a soil impregnated with salt water. On this drive this tree is frequently seen, and in preference at the very brink of the coast, with the butt-end of the trunk high in the air, resting on a colonnade of numerous powerful, slightly diverging roots. Another tree omnipresent on this drive is the pauru tree, with its large leaves and charming cream-yellow, salver-shaped flowers. This tree loves the dark, shady jungles, where its tortuous branches mingle freely with the dense undergrowth and climbing plants.

The views that present themselves on this drive at every turn are simply bewitching and vary with every curve of the road. The gentle ocean breeze that fans the flushed face of the raptured traveler is lost when the road leaves the coast and plunges into a primeval forest, when

Gradual sinks the breeze

Into a perfect calm; that not a breath

Is heard to quiver through the closing wood.

THOMSON.

As the carriage emerges from the dark shades of the forest into the dazzling sunlight in full view of the near-by ocean again.

The winds, with wonder whist,

Smoothly the waters kiss'd,

Whispering new joys to the mild ocean.

MILTON.

Every turn of the wheel on this winding road brings new delights. The views of mountains and ocean, the strange trees and flowers, the childlike natives and their dusky, naked children, the quaint villages, the turbulent mountain streams and the diminutive cataracts and waterfalls, framed in emerald green on the mountain-sides, enchant the eye and stimulate the mind every moment. These little waterfalls have excavated the hardest rocks and have chiseled out, in the course of centuries, crevices and caves of the strangest designs.

The floral wealth of Tahiti is immense. Mr. McDaniel, of Los Angeles, Cal., during a several-months' visit to the island, analyzed and classified two thousand different kinds of plants. Some of the flowers are gorgeous, others yield a sweet perfume which is diffused through the pure air, imparting to it the balmy character for which it has become famous. An acquaintance with these flowers suggests:

Were I, O God, in churchless lands remaining,

Far from all voice of teachers or divines,

My soul would find, in flowers of thy ordaining,

Priests, sermons, shrines.

SHAKESPEARE.

At a sudden turn of the road a vista is disclosed that defies description. In the open roadway, brilliantly illuminated by the noonday sun, in the distance, a flame-tree, with its flowers of fire, dazzles the eyes, and its grandeur and beauty increase as we approach it, while, in a few moments, what appeared as an apparition is behind us, and the tension of vision is relieved by a long, restful look over the limitless expanse of the blue sea. I have seen the flame-tree in different countries, but the sight of this one, with its magic surroundings, made a picture of exquisite beauty which forcibly recalled the lines:

The spreading branches made a goodly show,

And full of opening blooms was ev'ry bough.

DRYDEN.

The numerous villages of land-crabs met on this drive afford amusement for the stranger, unfamiliar with this inhabitant of the coast in the tropics. The land-crabs have evidently a well-organized government in each community. Among the most important officials are the sentinels, who are always on duty, when the inhabitants of the village have left their underground habitations, to give timely notice of impending danger. With the approach of man, the whole colony is on the alert. As a matter of safety, the land-crab does not stray far away from its subterranean home. When these animals are out in the open they are never caught napping. Their large, exophthalmic eyes are never idle, and the instant danger threatens they speed to their place of safety. If you have enough patience to wait, you will find, sooner or later, two large staring eyes on a level with the hole where the animal disappeared. The land-crab is cautious, constantly on the lookout, and, on the first signal of danger, makes a rush for his or somebody else's hole.

A short distance from Papeete is a truck garden managed by Chinamen. This enterprise, the only one I noticed on the drive, demonstrates well what the soil of Tahiti is capable of producing in the way of growing vegetables. It is an ideal vegetable garden, weedless, and verdant with all kinds of vegetables. The foreign population of the city is supplied from here with lettuce, asparagus, cabbage, sweet potatoes, carrots, onions, turnips and melons of the choicest quality. The natives have no use for vegetables and make no attempts to raise them for the market. The guava shrub is found everywhere. It has infested the country, weed-like, and its golden fruit is not appreciated by the natives; only a very small part of the fruit is gathered for making jelly, one of the few articles of export.

This is the part of the island where the vanilla-bean is most extensively cultivated. A vanilla plantation is a jungle in which the bean thrives best. In the thick woods all along the road, the climbing bean is seen trailing up the shrubs and trees, often to a height of twenty feet. At the time of my visit the blossoms had disappeared and the green beans had reached a length of about four inches, half their length when they are ripe. A patient and prolonged search made for a flower was finally rewarded by the finding of a belated bud which, on being placed in water, expanded into a flower during the night, affording me an opportunity to study its anatomy.

Three small villages, Faaa, Punaauia and Paea, are passed on the way from Papeete to Papara, and, like all other villages, each of them had its own government school, a Catholic and a Protestant church, and, connected with these, two parochial schools. The compulsory education introduced into the island applies to children from six to sixteen years of age. The churches are well attended, but I was informed by a German, who has resided in Tahiti for thirty years, that the people attend service more as a matter of amusement than with any intention of obtaining spiritual benefit.

Nearly all of the village shops are kept by Chinamen, and it is needless to say that these shrewd foreigners take undue advantage of the simple, trusting natives, in all of their business transactions. Much of the hard-earned money of the natives finds its way into the capacious pockets of these enterprising Orientals.

We reached Papara toward evening, and, when we came in sight of the chiefery, were deeply impressed with the beauty of the location. Palm trees, flowering shrubs and garden flowers adorn the spacious grounds in front and all around the ancient mansion which is perched on an elevated plateau adjoining the large and beautiful stream of crystal mountain water, and facing the placid lagoon. An immense double war-canoe was at anchor in the river. It is now used as a fishing-boat by one of the sons of the chief, when he desires to catch the bonita outside of the lagoon. It takes seven men to manage this giant canoe, by means of paddles.

In front of the wide veranda of the one-story house is an ornamental tree which spreads its branches at least twenty feet in all directions. As it was in full bloom at the time of my visit, it added much to the beauty and comfort of the immediate surroundings in front of the house.

The rooms of the mansion are large, and brimful of local antiquities and old furniture imported from Europe, which impart to them a coziness and charm which have been greatly appreciated and gratefully remembered by many a welcome visitor. It is in a house like this, presided over by the chief of Papara and his charming family, that one can experience what genuine, unselfish hospitality means.

Twelve servants, men and women, take care of the house, the family and the visitors. Most of these were born on the place, and some of them, very old now, were in the service of the grandfather of the present chief. The relation between master and servants in this house is a very pleasant one. The servants are looked upon and treated rather as relatives than employes. Their pay is small, but they are given all the comforts of a home.

Word had been sent ahead from Papeete announcing our visit, for the purpose of securing for us the rare pleasure of partaking of a genuine native dinner. A little pig was roasted underground, and chickens were boiled in the milk of the cocoanut, exquisite dishes, which, with excellent coffee, French bread, and a variety of luscious tropical fruit, made up a dinner which it would be impossible to duplicate in any of the large cities of the continents.

The village of Papara is a most interesting place to visit. Besides the magnificent scenery, one finds here many native huts, and the town hall is a large, airy structure, built of bamboo sticks and covered with a thatched roof. Near the village are the grotto and cave, which enjoy a local reputation, and are well worth seeing by the visitor.

The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:

At one stride conies the dark;

With far-heard whisper o'er the sea;

Off shot the spectre bark.

COLERIDGE.

The day had been hot and sultry. From a cloudless sky, the tropical sun shot down, without mercy, his arrows of heat, against which the lightest and most porous headdress, umbrella, roof and shade afforded but inadequate protection. Man and beast were listless, perspiring, careful to make no unnecessary exertion. The green, succulent foliage bowed under the oppressive heat, and even the gayest of the flowers drooped their proud heads in homage to the fierce king of the serene blue sky. The very atmosphere quivered in convulsive movements, and the intense light, reflected from the surface of the sleeping ocean and the white city, dazzled and blinded those who ventured to go out into the streets. The little capital city of Papeete, nestled on the plateau between the harbor and the foot of towering mountains, half hidden among the tropic trees, was at rest; market and streets deserted, business houses closed, and the wharf silent and lifeless. The numerous miserable curs in the streets sought shelter in the shade, lying in a position affording most perfect relaxation, with protruded, blue, saliva-covered tongues, fighting the heat by increasing the respiratory movements to the utmost speed. The numerous half-wild pigs in the streets, with paralyzed tails and relaxed bristles, buried themselves as deeply as possible in the nearest mud-pool, and with eyes closed, submitted passively to the fiery rays of the midday sun. The roaming chickens, from bald chicks a few days old to the ruffled, fatless veterans of questionable age, suspended their search for rare particles of food with which to satisfy their torturing sense of hunger, and simply squatted where the heat overcame them, in the nearest shady place, there to spend the enforced siesta with bills wide open and the dry, blue tongues agitated by the rapid and violent breathing. The birds of the air ceased their frolic; their song was silenced, and they took refuge in trees with thickest foliage. Men, women and children, rich and poor, merchant and laborer, were forced to suspend work and play, and seek, in the shadow of their homes or near-by trees, protection against the onslaught of the burning rays of the sun. Such is the victory of the sun of the tropics. He demands unconditional surrender on the part of every living thing. He knows no compromise, as he is sure of victory as long as his victim is in a favorable strategic position. This was the case on the day of which I speak. As the rays of the sun became more and more oblique, and the invisible great fan of the land-breeze was set in motion, wafting down from the high mountain peaks a current of cool air, the city woke up from its midday slumber. The sun had lost his fiery power. He was retreating from the field of combat, and approaching in the distance the rim of the placid ocean. The monarch of the day, so near his cool, watery couch, laid aside his mask of fire and smiled upon the vanishing world with a face beaming with happiness and peace.

The sun was set, and Vesper, to supply

His absent beams, had lighted up the sky.

DRYDEN.

It was an evening bright and still

As ever blush'd on wave or bower,

Smiling from heaven, as if naught ill

Could happen in so sweet an hour.

MOORE.

The last act of the retiring monarch of the day revealed his incomparable skill as a painter. He showed discretion in the selection of the time to demonstrate to the best advantage his matchless artistic skill. He chose the evening hour, when the soul is best prepared to take flight from earthly to heavenly things. He waited until man and beast had laid aside the burden and cares of the day, and were in a receptive, contemplative mood to study and appreciate the paintings suspended from the paling blue dome of the sky.

He waited until he could hide himself from view behind the bank of fleecy clouds moving lazily in the same direction. Then he grasped the invisible palette charged with colors and tints of colors unknown to the artists of this world, and seized the mystic, gigantic brush when

The setting sun, and music at the close.

As the last taste of sweets is sweeted last,

Writ in remembrance more than things long past.

SHAKESPEARE.

The time for this magic work was short. The moment the passing clouds veiled his face it began. From the very beginning it became apparent that the hidden artist exhibited superhuman skill. The most appreciative and scrutinizing of his admirers felt powerless to comprehend and much more to give a description of the panoramic views which he painted with such rapid succession on the sky, clouds and the dull surface of the dreamy, listless ocean. With intense interest we watched the constantly varying, artistic display, felt keenly the shortcomings of human art, and realized, to the fullest extent, the force and truth of

Who hath not proved how feebly words essay

To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray.

BYRON.

All painters place the greatest importance upon a proper background for their pictures in order to give light and shade a strong expression. So does the sun. With a few strokes of the magic brush, the deep blue of the horizon was wiped out and replaced by the palest shade of blue, so as to bring forth, in bolder relief, the resplendent colors on the moving canvas of the clouds. The artist fringed the margins of the clouds with delicate lace of shining gold. Through clefts and rents in the clouds the smiling face of the painter peeped upon the beautiful evening beyond. His work had only begun. In rapid turns the clouds were converted into a sheet of gold with a violet border that deepened into a vivid crimson hue. As the artist disappeared, inch by inch, under the limitless expanse of the ocean, he wiped out the brilliant colors on the canvas of clouds, and gilded the horizon with a sheet of gold, deepening his favorite color, yellow, into an orange hue, which remained unchanged until the approaching darkness threw a drapery of sombre black over the inspiring scene. Twilight shuns the tropics. Day lapses into night almost imperceptibly, and, with the setting of the sun, the earth is wrapped in darkness. There is no compromise in the tropics, between the rulers of day and night. With the disappearance of the last rays of the sun, the pale blue dome of the sky is decorated with millions of flickering stars, casting their feeble light upon land and sea through the immeasurable ethereal medium which separates heaven from earth.

The sun has lost his rage; his downward orb

Shoots nothing now but animating warmth

And vital lustre.

THOMSON.

On the evening of which I speak, the short twilight foreshadowed the appearance of the heavenly advance-guard proclaiming the coming of the Queen of Night.

When the evening King gave place to night,

His beams he to his royal brother lent,

And so shone still in his reflected light.

DRYDEN.

Looking in the direction opposite from where the monarch of the day had disappeared, the cloudless sky brightened over the bare gray mountain-peak, and the stars, in joyful anticipation of the approaching event, abandoned their stoic immobility and trembled in feverish excitement. An impressive silence reigned in the little city, broken now and then by the almost noiseless footsteps of half-naked, barefoot natives, or the clattering of the hoofs of a horse and humming of the wheels of a passing cart, and, once or twice, by the whirr of the only automobile in the island, steered by an enterprising, prosperous French merchant.

Nature awoke from her noonday slumber, the glossy leaves resumed their natural shape and freshness, the drooping flowers revived, expanded and exhaled their fragrance, perfuming the evening air. The birds had found shelter and protection for the night in the leafy domes of the many beautiful shade and ornamental trees. It was solemn eveningtide, when the heart of man is most receptive for noble and pure impressions. It was the time to turn away the thoughts from the busy, selfish world and reflect upon the wonders of creation. It was the time to look upward to the calm, pale, blue sky, feebly illuminated by the soft light of countless tiny lamps suspended by invisible cords from the limitless space above. It was the time to look beyond earthly things. It was the time to understand:

The beauty of the world and the orderly arrangement of everything
celestial makes us confess that there is an excellent and eternal
nature, which ought to be worshiped and admired by all mankind.

CICERO.

We were speechless spectators of the passing and coming. Our thoughts were turned to the invisible hand that created the earth we inhabit and all of the heavenly bodies, and which directs their movements with infallible precision and unfailing regularity. We thought of things incomprehensible to man, of things far beyond the grasp of the human mind, of things known only to the Almighty Lord, Creator of all things in heaven and earth.

With our eyes fixed on the gateway of entrance of the Queen of Night, we patiently awaited her arrival, anxious, however, to catch the first glimpse of her beautiful face. No blare of trumpets or bugle call announced her approach. She rose in the sky silently, resplendent in her own magic beauty, and her charms are always sweetest when the nights are calm and peaceful. She combined beauty with two of the most attractive feminine virtues—modesty and gentleness. As we watched her regal entrance into the sky, the golden arch assumed the deep yellow hue of the precious metal it resembled, and, in a few moments, the pale rim of her sweet face rose over the dark, bald mountain-peak, and ascended slowly and majestically, higher and higher, away from earthly things, on her journey through the pathless sky. This evening she appeared in perfect glory, permitting us to look into her full, calm face. Her consort, the sun, had just disappeared, leaving behind him a golden crescent on the opposite horizon. She was following his pathway and had taken possession of his throne for the night. The departing sun and the ascending moon were in strange and pleasing contrast at the threshold of that beautiful night.

O! belle nuit! mit preferable au jour!

Premier nuit a amour consacree!

En sa faveur, prolonge ta duree,

Et du soleil retarde le retour.

DE MALFILATRE.

The moon loves to reign in peace and quietude. She abhors the tumult of the battle-field and the struggles of man for wealth and honor. She is the friend of the wounded, the sick and the poor; and the guardian angel of all those in need of repose. As she ascended heavenward, the rippling ocean became a great mirror, a mirror worthy to reflect her beautiful face. The soft, pale light streaming out from the silvery orb cast phantom-like shadows in the forests, parks and streets. Solemnity reigned supreme.

On seas, on earth, and all that in them dwell,

A death-like and deep silence fell.

WALLER.

Happy the people who respect and love the Queen of Night and her reign of peace and rest! Charming Queen! Retard your journey, prolong your peaceful mission for the well-being of your loyal subjects so much in need of your calming influence and of your soft, soothing light! To such petitions the goddess of the sky has only one inflexible reply: "The universe is my kingdom, the earth you live in is only one of my smallest possessions. I must remain loyal to all of my realms."

This evening in Tahiti had another and still more sublime entertainment in store for us, a spectacle which can be seen in perfection only in the tropics, and, I imagine, Tahiti is the stage more perfect than any other in the world for the display of one of nature's grandest exhibitions. The soft light of the rising moon and the myriads of tiny, flickering stars furnished the illumination; the mountains, forests, harbor and ocean, the stage. We were roused from our reverie by distant peals of thunder. Looking in the direction whence these reports came, we saw black, angry clouds hovering about the mountain-peaks to the south and east of Papeete. The clouds were too heavy for the rarified mountain air and soon began to descend slowly but steadily until they wrapped the towering summits in a cloak of sombre black. The mountain-peaks, which but a short time before were caressed by the gentle, silvery light of the moon, were now completely obscured. Where did these clouds come from? No one could tell. No one could mistake their movements. They appeared to have had only one object in view, and that was to embrace the mountain-range well below the tree-line. Smaller clouds, fragments from the main mass, moving more swiftly in the evening air, impelled by the land-breeze, floated away from the dark wall enveloping the mountainsides, which seemed to possess some subtle, magnetic power buried in the Immense piles of volcanic rocks. At short intervals, great zigzag chains of lightning shot through these dark clouds, momentarily lighting up the dark, unbroken, primeval forest. These dazzling, blinding flashes of lightning were in strong contrast with the soft, tropic moonshine that remained outside of the limits of the aerial sea of clouds, which had commenced to discharge a drenching rain. Fleecy little wandering clouds now flecked the horizon, strangely and variously painted by the moonlight, shortly before the midnight hour. Through fissures in these fleeting, snowy clouds, the moon and stars often peeped at the grand spectacle which was being enacted on the stage below. Lightning and thunder came nearer and nearer with the approach of the weeping mass of clouds. The bolts of lightning must have found their marks with unerring precision in the crags and forest underneath the roof of dense clouds, as from there came at short intervals deafening peals of thunder reverberating through the calm evening air far out over the surface of the sleeping ocean, where the reverberations died out in a faint rumbling.

This majestic but awesome sight was of short duration. The pouring rain relieved the clouds of their abnormal weight, and, balloon-like, they rose, clearing the mountain-range, which then again made its appearance in the soft, bewitching moonlight of the tropics. Lightning and thunder retreated with the disappearance of the clouds. The atmosphere was cool and refreshing, purified by the pouring rain and the furious electric storm. At this stage of the nightly display in our immediate vicinity, in front of the veranda of the little hotel, in full view of the now deserted stage, from the clear, cloudless sky, gigantic drops of rain fell, sparkling in the magic moonlight like diamonds that had become loosened and had fallen from the jeweled crown of the Queen of Night, whose throne had then reached the zenith of the horizon.

Instead of wishing for an encore after such a brilliant act given by nature's artists, we took one more and last look at the serene, smiling, full face of the moon, and were then prepared to acknowledge reverently:

What else is nature but God, and divine reason, residing in the whole
world and its parts.

SENECA.

IORANA!

The South Sea Islanders have beautiful words of welcome with which they meet the stranger. The Samoan greets you with _talofa_; the Hawaiian, with a clear, musical voice, welcomes you with _aloha nui_; and the Tahitian, with an open, friendly face and a smile, when he meets you, addresses you with that beautiful greeting, _iorana_. These euphonious words mean more than the words of our language intended for the same purpose; they come from the heart and are addressed to the heart much more so than our "Welcome," "How do you do?" "How are you?" or "I am glad to see you." These Polynesian words are not only words of welcome, but carry with them the best wishes of the natives for the stranger; they signify not only a formality, but also express a sincerity which is so often lacking in our conventional meetings with friends and strangers. The visitor who remains long enough in Tahiti to become acquainted with the natives will find that their greeting, _iorana_, is verified by their actions. The natives, educated and ignorant, young and old, are polite, friendly and hospitable to a fault. They are fond of making little gifts to strangers, and if these are reciprocated, they are really and honestly grateful. The people are charming, the island beautiful, and nature's storehouse never empty of the choicest that the sea can supply and the soil can produce. Any one who has seen Tahiti, the Island Paradise, on leaving it, and ever after, in recalling his experiences and observations in this island of peace, rest, charms and pleasures, will give expression to his feelings by repeating to himself.

Isle of Beauty!

Absence makes the heart grow fonder:

Isle of Beauty, fare thee well!

BAYLY.

THE END

ADDENDA

TAHITI

The waves that touch thy pebbly beach

With soft, caressing hand;

The scented breezes winging past

Above thy favored land;

The brilliant flowers, the glowing fruits,

Close to thy bosom pressed,

All, all are singing one sweet song,

Whose soft refrain is, Rest!

The sunset brush that tints thy skies

With wondrous, varied rays;

The birds that fill thy woodland haunts

With music's roundelays;

The sparkling streams meandering through

Thy valleys ever blest.

All, all are breathing one sweet song.

Whose soft refrain is, Rest!

The twilight hour that floods the soul

With waves of perfect calm.

Then gives us to the Queen of Night,

Who pours her soothing balm;

The still lagoon with coral reefs

Where beauty makes its nest.

All, all are breathing one sweet song.

Whose soft refrain is, Rest!

O Isle of Beauty! poets may

Dip pens in wells of light,

Or soar aloft on Fancy's wings

In wild, aerial flight;

But they can never voice thy charms,

O Island of the Blest!

Whose very air is perfumed with

The fragrance rare of Rest!

O Isle of Beauty! artists may

Coax every varied hue,

To lay upon the canvas wide

A portrait true of you;

But till they borrow heaven's power

To paint thee. Island Blest,

The task is vain, O Land of Peace,

Whose every breeze sings Rest!

Where man knows all the blissful charm

Of care-free, deep content;

Where life seems one long holiday

In childish gladness spent;

Where earth and air and sea and sky

So close to God seem pressed;

Ah, loath am I to turn from thee.

Dear Land of Perfect Rest!

MARY E. GRIFFIN.

THE STORY OF ARIITAIMAI OF TAHITI[1]

I wish peace, and any terms prefer

Before the last extremities of war.

DRYDEN.

In one of the far-off isles of the South Seas, in the garden-spot of the Pacific, in golden Tahiti, about the year 1848, when Victoria was a young queen and mother, when France was in the throes of a second revolution, when the United States, a young republic, was still on trial before the old world, there was enacted one of the most touching dramas history has ever recorded, and this among a people considered savages by the so-called civilized world, and almost unknown until discovered through the missionary fervor of a few priests. The place, a small island, only a speck on the map; the _dramatis personæ_, France, England and America, the hereditary chiefs of a people who for forty generations had known no other rulers, a weak, vacillating native queen, and a noble-hearted native woman who knew how to be at the same time a loyal subject, a skilled diplomat, and that rarer and more beautiful thing, a faithful friend. If you would hear a story of friendship pure and undefiled, listen to the story of Ariitaimai of Papara, a Tahitian of noble birth, a child of Nature in its wildest and grandest aspect, rocked in a gigantic cradle of sea, sky and towering mountains, in a land of palm forests, where Nature has provided everything necessary to the life of her children, and where the pearls are the purest. If Cicero had known the story of Ariitaimai he would not have written in _De Amicitia_: "But where will you find one who will not prefer to friendship, public honors and power, one who will prefer the advancement of his friend in public office to his own? For human nature is too weak to despise power." But to understand this thrilling and eventful drama, we must listen first to the chorus reciting something of the history of this strange people, and of the position of woman in a land where suffrage societies are unknown, and where the story of the inequality of the sexes had never been told by book or priest. Tahiti, Matea and Moorea are known as the Windward Islands of the Society Group in the South Seas. The Leeward Islands comprise the four kingdoms, Huahine, Borabora, Raiatea and Tahaa, together with some smaller islands, and are about one hundred and twenty miles from Tahiti. But it has always been in Tahiti, the gem of the Pacific, that the interest has been centered, and it was here that the struggle took place between the English and the French for supremacy in the South Seas.

It was in 1769 that Captain Cook entered Matavai Bay on his first voyage to observe the transit of Venus. This spot is marked by a stone monument and has been known ever since as Point Venus. At this time Cook estimated the number of inhabitants at two hundred thousand. To-day, after the long contention between the French and English for supremacy, after the brave struggle of the natives against both for independence, after all the ravages made by the diseases introduced by foreigners, and after years of a fearful mortality caused by the enervating effect of civilization upon a people suited only to be children of Nature, this goodly number has been reduced to a pitiful eleven thousand. In fact, our so-called nineteenth century civilization has succeeded in practically exterminating a people who could produce a pearl among womankind, a rare and tender soul, such an one as English history does not give us, and France has produced but one, her own Jeanne D'Arc.

The government of the island has always been by chiefs and chiefesses, no distinction of sex being made in laws of inheritance, the eldest born inheriting the rank and estates and all the authority which the title of chief conveys. Many of the chiefesses appear to have been exceedingly warlike, true Amazons, contending with neighboring chiefs for more authority and extensive possessions. Even as wives of the chiefs, women went to war to help fight the battles of their husbands and clans. It is reported of one of the Pomares who was of a peaceful disposition that in one hotly contested encounter he fled to a neighboring island, leaving his wife Iddeah to face the storm. History says that she was a great warrior and carried the contest to a successful issue for her husband and their possessions. It is recorded of another chief that he was not a warrior and left the active campaigning to his wife. So it will be seen that in the political life of Tahiti sex was not considered. Accident of birth settled the title, and the warlike spirit miade the warrior, whether it resided in chief or chiefess. England took a hand in the island politics at a time when one of the weakest and most unpopular chiefs was warring for the supremacy, and by assisting and upholding his authority prolonged one of the most disastrous wars in the history of Tahiti. The Tahitians detested tyranny and the insolence of a single ruler, and in their tribal system of chiefs had a protection against despotism which the foreigners, by their advocacy of the cause of a special chief, afterwards Pomare I., destroyed.

Before the invasion of the English, the hereditary chief of each district held absolute sway in his own province. Questions of common interest were settled in the island councils by majority vote, and it was in these deliberations that the chiefs of Papara had for generations held the balance of political power. Politically, the change was disastrous. In olden times whenever a single chief became arrogant and threatened to destroy the rest, all the others united to overthrow him and thus re-established the political equilibrium.

Ariitaimai belonged to the Clan of Tevas, of the chiefery of Papara, and the family of Tati. She belonged to the clan which was ruled by Opuhara, the last of the heathen chiefs who went down in the conflict with Pomare II., who with the help of English guns was made absolute monarch of the island. This conflict between Opuhara and the English, because Pomare was only an instrument in their hands to accomplish the conquest of the island, is responsible for the bitter hatred of the genuine natives for the foreigners and the missionaries.

Opuhara was considered the greatest warrior and hero of the Tevas, and his death, the result of a stratagem on the part of Pomare and the English missionaries, is considered by his people a veritable assassination. He fell by a shot fired by a native missionary convert. Tati, one of the under-chiefs of Papara, had been persuaded by the English to approach Opuhara to negotiate with him for submission. But Opuhara turned on him with scorn. "Go, traitor," he said; "shame on you! you, whom I knew as my eldest brother, I know no more; and to-day I call this my spear, 'Ourihere,' brotherless. Beware of it, for if it meet you hereafter, it meets you as a foe. I, Opuhara, have stood as Arii in Mona Temaiti, bowing to no other Gods but those of my fathers. There I shall stand to the end; and never shall I bow to Pomara or to the Gods forced on us by the white-faced man." With Opuhara perished the last hope of the native patriots to preserve a government of chiefs. His dying words were all that was left to his clan of the glory and power of Papara. "My children, fight to the last! It is noon, and I, Opuhara, the _ti_ of Mona Temaiti, am broken asunder!" He fell a martyr to his belief in the heathen gods, and in the ancient inherited rights of his people: a tribal government. His followers have always firmly believed that Opuhara would have won the contest had not the missionaries brought their guns along with their Bibles.

It was this belief that Ariitaimai inherited with the beautiful lands of Papara. She says in her memoirs: "I am told that Opuhara's spear, 'Brotherless Ourihere,' is now in the Museum of the Louvre. Even in those days there were among all his warriors only two who could wield it. If the missionaries have sometimes doubted whether the natives rightly understood the truths and blessings of Christianity, perhaps one reason may be that the Tevas remember how the missionaries fought for Pomare and killed Opuhara."

Marama, the mother of Ariitaimai, was a celebrated chiefess in her own right, the sole heir of Marama, the head chief of Moorea, the nearest island to Tahiti. She was a great heiress, and the last representative of the sacred families of these two islands. She was given in marriage, as a political compromise and at the special request of King Pomare, to Tati's son, the head chief of Tahiti. It was also agreed that all issue of the marriage should become the adopted children of Pomare, according to an ancient Tahitian custom. The family is a great institution in Tahiti and any one whose parents both by birth and adoption had been carried to the family Marae with offerings to the gods, enjoyed a rare social distinction. This Ariitaimai could claim, so from her birth she was looked upon by the islanders as an especially favored and much-to-be-treasured maiden. It may be that this great respect shown towards her by the entire people did much to mold her character. The Tahitian mother has little to say in regard to the training of her first-born, as this one is considered to belong to the family as a whole, and all questions of general interest are settled in family council. And so it was with Ariitaimai. She saw little of her mother, but was in constant touch with the family chiefs from whom, no doubt, she learned lessons in diplomacy, and from listening to their councils she acquired that rare good judgment which fitted her later to be the accepted advisor of her teachers. She mastered both the French and the English languages, and her memoirs show a wonderful knowledge of the literature of both countries, as well as a wide and comprehensive reading of classical authors. While Ariitaimai was growing to womanhood, the pride and special care of the chiefs of Papara, another maiden was receiving equal care and attention on a neighboring island. Aimata of Raiatea, the daughter of Pomare II., was only nine years old when her father died and she was given into the care of the head chief Uata, who was a good and learned man.

These two young girls who were destined to play such an important rôle in the history of their country, grew up under much the same influences and developed characters as widely different as the antipodes. They saw each other only occasionally until Aimata's mother sent one day for Ariitaimai to make a long visit at the royal castle, as was the custom among the islanders, as Pomare had claimed her as his adopted daughter according to the ante-natal contract. Here blossomed and grew the friendship which was destined later to save to Pomare IV. her throne, and to deliver Tahiti from a war which could only have resulted in the extermination of the native population and the destruction of the island as an independent government. The real struggle between France and England for the possession of the island began in 1836, when two French priests landed at Tahiti to convert not the pagans to Christianity but Protestant Christians to the Roman faith. Aimata now become Pomare IV., promptly ordered their arrest and expulsion. The French priests made a protest to their government and Louis Philippe sent a frigate to Papeete, the harbor city, with an ultimatum, and the Queen was obliged to yield. The English consul and the missionaries contested the occupation of the French, and another frigate was sent to Tahiti. Queen Pomare now appealed to Queen Victoria and offered to submit to a British protectorate. She also sent a protest to the government of the United States, against allowing the French to forcibly occupy Tahiti. But the English Queen was busy with more important home affairs, and neglected the appeal from the little island so far away, and the protest to the United States was apparently ignored. By a lack of appreciation of the Queen's communication, the United States lost the control of the gem of all the Pacific isles, and lost also a rare opportunity to aid and protect a brave people in their struggle for independence. This attitude of England and the United States left the contest to be settled between the natives and the French. After a desultory war lasting over four long, miserable years, with the advantage first on one side and then on the other, the French government decided to end the matter and sent two frigates to the island. The government had offered previously to this to place Pomare permanently on the throne under a French protectorate, but she would not consent to this, looking constantly for help from the English who had done so much for her father. So she left Tahiti, the scene of the contest, and fled to Raiatea to her own family for protection, while waiting for the help which never came.