“At the close of this important and interesting interview, Malietoa informed his people, who had been gazing with wonder upon the novel proceedings, that a large quantity of valuable property had been given to him, and that the English chiefs, to whom he was indebted for it, would want something to eat on their return. ‘For,’ said he, ‘there are no pigs running about upon the sea, neither is there any bread-fruit growing there.’ Upon hearing this, the whole company instantly rose and scampered away; and in about an hour they returned, bringing with them fifteen pigs of various sizes, with a large quantity of bread-fruit, yams, and other vegetables, the whole of which the chief presented to us.” This extract, from the journal of Mr. Williams, the well-known missionary, gives a good idea of the hospitable nature of the people.
Courtesy is, among the Samoans, reckoned as one of the duties of life. They address each other by titles of honor, and it is considered as an essential point of etiquette that, when one man addresses another, he should use a title rather higher than that to which his interlocutor has any claim. Should he be ignorant of the rank of the person whom he addresses, he uses the term chief, as a safe one.
The earlier voyagers have all been struck with the Samoans, whose gentle demeanor, perfect honesty, scrupulous cleanliness, graceful costume, gigantic stature, and polished manners, made a strong impression upon them. When Messrs. Williams and Barth visited these islands, they were received in the most hospitable manner. As they went on shore, the former happened to mention that he was tired, when a young chief addressed a few words to the people, and in a moment the visitor was lifted off the ground by a number of gigantic young men, who seized him, “some by the legs, and others by the arms, one placing his hand under my body, another, unable to obtain so large a space, poking a finger against me; and thus, sprawling at full length upon their extended arms and hands, I was carried a distance of half a mile, and deposited safely in the presence of the chief and his principal wife.”
Several children were on board, and were carried off by the natives in great glee. One or two of them were missing for several hours, causing their parents great anxiety. However, they were all brought back in safety, their absence being due merely to the exuberant hospitality of the Samoans. The natives were so delighted at their good fortune in having the charge of a white child that they could not make up their minds to restore it to its parents, but took it home, killed and baked a pig and other food, feasted the child to the fullest extent, and then, having kept it as long as they dared, restored it to its parents. This anecdote carries out the statement already made, that the Samoans are exceedingly fond of children. Mr. Pritchard mentions that on one occasion, when he was witnessing a native dance, which is a performance requiring the greatest exertion, the chief’s wife sat as a spectator, with two fine twin children in her lap. The chief, engaged as he was in the absorbing amusement of the dance, could not keep himself away from his children, but every now and then left the dance to caress them. The mothers nurse their children for several years, and a child of five or six years old may often be seen to pull away its younger brother or sister and take its place.
The dress of the Samoans varies considerably, according to the rank of the individual and the occasion on which it is assumed. The usual dress of the men is a sort of small apron, about a foot square, made of the green leaves of the Dracæna tree, but on occasions of ceremony they generally wear a flowing robe called the lava-lava. This is made of bark cloth, and is beautifully fine and soft, the Samoans excelling in such manufactures, which will presently be described. This robe is gathered round the waist into folds, and reaches down to the ankles.
Small as may be the ordinary dress of the Samoan men, they always seem to be fully dressed, in consequence of the tattooing with which they are carefully decorated. Even to European eyes the tattooing conveys the same impression, and has been mistaken for a dress by some of the early voyagers, who described the people as being clothed from the waist downward, with fringed lace “made of a silken stuff, and artificially wrought.”
The reader will remember that the New Zealanders tattoo no part of the body except the hips, and that even in that case a semblance of dress is produced. The Samoans tattoo the whole of the body from the hips to the knees, covering the skin so completely with the pattern that it looks at a little distance exactly as if the man were wearing a tight pair of ornamental drawers.
Even European eyes become so accustomed to the tattoo that they are rather shocked at its absence; and, according to Mr. Pritchard, an untattooed Samoan does in truth look unmanly, looks even naked, by the side of one who is tattooed. So completely is this feeling realized by the natives that chiefs who have arrived at middle age frequently undergo the process of tattooing a second time, in order to renew the patterns, as they become dim and uncertain by lapse of years; for, though indelible, the tattoo does fade in the course of years, as I can testify from personal experience. When a very young boy, I read of the custom of tattooing, and must needs try it on my own arm. I did not do much of it, but the whole arm swelled up to the shoulder, and was useless for some time. At first the marks were bright blue, clear and well-defined, but now the blue is of dull indigo, and the outline very undecided.
The production of this elaborate decoration is a work of considerable time, the operation being, in the first place, too painful to be continued for any long time; and, in the second, it is apt to cause so much disturbance in the general system that the result would be fatal if the whole were executed at once. The operation is generally performed in company, a number of young men keeping company with the son of the chief. When, for example, a chief’s son arrives at the proper age, i. e. about eighteen, all the lads of his tribe assemble to partake with him of the tattoo, which is to transform them from boys into men.
There is quite a ceremony, or rather a series of ceremonies, for the occasion. The tattooer or Matai, is a man of great influence, and his services have to be requested in regular form, accompanied by a present of fine mats. His acceptance of the mats ratifies the bargain, though no regular charge is made. On the appointed day, the lads and their friends meet in a house set apart for the ceremony, and more mats are presented to the Matai. Should the youth be wealthy, he sometimes gives a canoe. The friends of the lads are also bound to supply provisions as long as the operation lasts.