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- 6126
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.149Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 6058
- text
- floor is composed of rude planks. Regular aisles run between ranges of
native settees, bottomed with crossed braids of the cocoa-nut fibre,
and furnished with backs.
But the pulpit, made of a dark, lustrous wood, and standing at one end,
is by far the most striking object. It is preposterously lofty; indeed,
a capital bird’s-eye view of the congregation ought to be had from its
summit.
Nor does the church lack a gallery, which runs round on three sides,
and is supported by columns of the cocoa-nut tree.
Its facings are here and there daubed over with a tawdry blue; and in
other places (without the slightest regard to uniformity), patches of
the same colour may be seen. In their ardour to decorate the sanctuary,
the converts must have borrowed each a brush full of paint, and
zealously daubed away at the first surface that offered.
As hinted, the general impression is extremely curious. Little light
being admitted, and everything being of a dark colour, there is an
indefinable Indian aspect of duskiness throughout. A strange, woody
smell, also—more or less pervading every considerable edifice in
Polynesia—is at once perceptible. It suggests the idea of worm-eaten
idols packed away in some old lumber-room at hand.
For the most part, the congregation attending this church is composed
of the better and wealthier orders—the chiefs and their retainers; in
short, the rank and fashion of the island. This class is infinitely
superior in personal beauty and general healthfulness to the
“marenhoar,” or common people; the latter having been more exposed to
the worst and most debasing evils of foreign intercourse. On Sundays,
the former are invariably arrayed in their finery; and thus appear to
the best advantage. Nor are they driven to the chapel, as some of their
inferiors are to other places of worship; on the contrary, capable of
maintaining a handsome exterior, and possessing greater intelligence,
they go voluntarily.
In respect of the woodland colonnade supporting its galleries, I called
this chapel the Church of the Cocoa-nuts.
It was the first place for Christian worship in Polynesia that I had
seen; and the impression upon entering during service was all the
stronger. Majestic-looking chiefs whose fathers had hurled the
battle-club, and old men who had seen sacrifices smoking upon the
altars of Oro, were there. And hark! hanging from the bough of a
bread-fruit tree without, a bell is being struck with a bar of iron by
a native lad. In the same spot, the blast of the war-conch had often
resounded. But to the proceedings within.
The place is well filled. Everywhere meets the eye the gay calico
draperies worn on great occasions by the higher classes, and forming a
strange contrast of patterns and colours. In some instances, these are
so fashioned as to resemble as much as possible European garments. This
is in excessively bad taste. Coats and pantaloons, too, are here and
there seen; but they look awkwardly enough, and take away from the
general effect.
But it is the array of countenances that most strikes you. Each is
suffused with the peculiar animation of the Polynesians, when thus
collected in large numbers. Every robe is rustling, every limb in
motion, and an incessant buzzing going on throughout the assembly. The
tumult is so great that the voice of the placid old missionary, who now
rises, is almost inaudible. Some degree of silence is at length
obtained through the exertions of half-a-dozen strapping fellows, in
white shirts and no pantaloons. Running in among the settees, they are
at great pains to inculcate the impropriety of making a noise by
creating a most unnecessary racket themselves. This part of the service
was quite comical.
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