University of Virginia Library

80. CHAPTER LXXX.

It is well to learn something about people before being introduced
to them; and so, we will here give some account of
Pomaree and her family.

Every reader of Cook's Voyages must remember “Otoo,”
who, in that navigator's time, was king of the larger peninsula
of Tahiti. Subsequently, assisted by the muskets of the
Bounty's men, he extended his rule over the entire island.
This Otoo, before his death, had his name changed into Pomaree,
which has ever since been the royal patronymic.

He was succeeded by his son, Pomaree II., the most famous
prince in the annals of Tahiti. Though a sad debauchee and
drunkard, and even charged with unnatural crimes, he was a
great friend of the missionaries, and one of their very first
proselytes. During the religious wars into which he was
hurried, by his zeal for the new faith, he was defeated, and
expelled from the island. After a short exile, he returned
from Imeeo, with an army of eight hundred warriors; and, in
the battle of Narii, routed the rebellious pagans with great
slaughter, and reëstablished himself upon the throne. Thus,
by force of arms, was Christianity finally triumphant in
Tahiti.

Pomaree II. dying, in 1821, was succeeded by his infant
son, under the title of Pomaree III. This young prince survived
his father but six years; and the government then descended
to his elder sister, Aimata, the present queen, who is commonly

called Pomaree Vahinee I., or the first female Pomaree. Her
majesty must be now upward of thirty years of age. She has
been twice married. Her first husband was a son of the old
King of Tahar, an island about one hundred miles from Tahiti.
This proving an unhappy alliance, the pair were soon after
divorced. The present husband of the queen is a chief of Imeeo.

The reputation of Pomaree is not what it ought to be. She,
and also her mother, were, for a long time, excommunicated
members of the Church; and the former, I believe, still is.
Among other things, her conjugal fidelity is far from being
unquestioned. Indeed, it was upon this ground, chiefly, that
she was excluded from the communion of the Church.

Previous to her misfortunes, she spent the greater portion
of her time sailing about from one island to another, attended
by a licentious court; and wherever she went, all manner of
games and festivities celebrated her arrival.

She was always given to display. For several years, the
maintenance of a regiment of household troops drew largely
upon the royal exchequer. They were trowserless fellows, in
a uniform of calico shirts and pasteboard hats; armed with
muskets of all shapes and calibres, and commanded by a great
noisy chief, strutting it in a coat of fiery red. These heroes
escorted their mistress whenever she went abroad.

Some time ago, the queen received from her English sister,
Victoria, a very showy, though uneasy, headdress—a crown;
probably made to order, at some tinman's in London. Having
no idea of reserving so pretty a bauble for coronation days,
which come so seldom, her majesty sported it whenever she
appeared in public; and, to show her familiarity with European
customs, politely touched it to all foreigners of distinction—
whaling captains, and the like—whom she happened to meet in
her evening walk on the Broom Road.

The arrival and departure of royalty were always announced

at the palace by the court artilleryman—a fat old gentleman,
who, in a prodigious hurry and perspiration, discharged minute
fowling-pieces, as fast as he could load and fire the same.

The Tahitian princess leads her husband a hard life. Poor
fellow! he not only caught a queen, but a Tartar, when he
married her. The style by which he is addressed is rather
significant—“Pomaree-Tanee” (Pomaree's man). All things
considered, as appropriate a title for a king-consort as could be
hit upon.

If ever there were a henpecked husband, that man is the
prince. One day, his cara-sposa, giving audience to a deputation
from the captains of the vessels lying in Papeetee, he ventured
to make a suggestion which was very displeasing to her.
She turned round, and, boxing his ears, told him to go over to
his beggarly island of Imeeo, if he wanted to give himself airs.

Cuffed and contemned, poor Tanee flies to the bottle, or
rather, to the calabash, for solace. Like his wife and mistress,
he drinks more than he ought.

Six or seven years ago, when an American man-of-war was
lying at Papeetee, the town was thrown into the greatest commotion
by a conjugal assault and battery, made upon the sacred
person of Pomaree by her intoxicated Tanee.

Captain Bob once told me the story. And by way of throwing
more spirit into the description, as well as to make up for
his oral deficiencies, the old man went through the accompanying
action: myself being proxy for the Queen of Tahiti.

It seems, that on a Sunday morning, being dismissed contemptuously
from the royal presence, Tanee was accosted by
certain good fellows, friends and boon companions, who condoled
with him on his misfortunes—railed against the queen,
and finally dragged him away to an illicit vender of spirits, in
whose house the party got gloriously mellow. In this state,
Pomaree Vahinee I., was the topic upon which all dilated—

“A vixen of a queen,” probably suggested one. “Its infamous,”
said another; “and I'd have satisfaction,” cried a third.
“And so I will!”—Tanee must have hiccoughed; for off he
went; and ascertaining that his royal half was out riding, he
mounted his horse, and galloped after her.

Near the outskirts of the town, a cavalcade of women came
cantering toward him, in the centre of which was the object of
his fury. Smiting his beast right and left, he dashed in among
them; completely overturning one of the party, leaving her on
the field, and dispersing every body else except Pomaree.
Backing her horse dextrously, the incensed queen heaped
upon him every scandalous epithet she could think of; until at
last, the enraged Tanee leaped out of his saddle, caught Pomaree
by her dress, and dragging her to the earth, struck her repeatedly
in the face, holding on meanwhile by the hair of her head.
He was proceeding to strangle her on the spot, when the cries
of the frightened attendants brought a crowd of natives to the
rescue, who bore the nearly insensible queen away.

But his frantic rage was not yet sated. He ran to the palace;
and before it could be prevented, demolished a valuable supply
of crockery, a recent present from abroad. In the act of
perpetrating some other atrocity, he was seized from behind,
and carried off with rolling eyes and foaming at the mouth.

This is a fair example of a Tahitian in a passion. Though
the mildest of mortals in general, and hard to be roused, when
once fairly up, he is possessed with a thousand devils.

The day following, Tanee was privately paddled over to
Imeeo, in a canoe; where, after remaining in banishment for a
couple of weeks, he was allowed to return, and once more give
in his domestic adhesion.

Though Pomaree Vahinee I. be something of a Jezebel in
private life, in her public rule, she is said to have been quite
lenient and forbearing. This was her true policy; for an

hereditary hostility to her family had always lurked in the
hearts of many powerful chiefs, the descendants of the old
Kings of Taiarboo, dethroned by her grandfather Otoo. Chief
among these, and in fact the leader of his party, was Poofai; a
bold, able man, who made no secret of his enmity to the missionaries,
and the government which they controlled. But
while events were occurring calculated to favor the hopes of
the disaffected and turbulent, the arrival of the French gave a
most unexpected turn to affairs.

During my sojourn in Tahiti, a report was rife—which I
knew to originate with what is generally called the “missionary
party”—that Poofai and some other chiefs of note, had actually
agreed, for a stipulated bribe, to acquiesce in the appropriation
of their country. But subsequent events have rebutted the
calumny. Several of these very men have recently died in
battle against the French.

Under the sovereignty of the Pomarees, the great chiefs of
Tahiti were something like the barons of King John. Holding
feudal sway over their patrimonial valleys, and on account of
their descent, warmly beloved by the people, they frequently
cut off the royal revenues by refusing to pay the customary
tribute due from them as vassals.

The truth is, that with the ascendency of the missionaries,
the regal office in Tahiti lost much of its dignity and influence.
In the days of Paganism, it was supported by all the power of
a numerous priesthood, and was solemnly connected with the
entire superstitious idolatry of the land. The monarch claimed
to be a sort of bye-blow of Tararroa, the Saturn of the Polynesian
mythology, and cousin-german to inferior deities. His
person was thrice holy; if he entered an ordinary dwelling,
never mind for how short a time, it was demolished when he
left; no common mortal being thought worthy to inhabit it
afterward.

“I'm a greater man than King George,” said the incorrigible
young Otoo, to the first missionaries; “he rides on a horse, and
I on a man.” Such was the case. He traveled post through
his dominions on the shoulders of his subjects; and relays of
immortal beings were provided in all the valleys.

But alas! how times have changed; how transient human
greatness. Some years since, Pomaree Vahinee I., the granddaughter
of the proud Otoo, went into the laundry business;
publicly soliciting, by her agents, the washing of the linen belonging
to the officers of ships touching in her harbors.

It is a significant fact, and one worthy of record, that while
the influence of the English missionaries at Tahiti has tended
to so great a diminution of the regal dignity there, that of the
American missionaries at the Sandwich Islands, has been purposely
exerted to bring about a contrary result.