Following is one of the chapters from Noa Noa, artist Paul Gauguin's account of his first, two-year visit to the island of Tahiti, which is couched in the context of a discussion with his concubine and provides an overview of the traditional Polynesian pantheon. It is, in fact, very reminiscent to me of Hesiod's famous Theogony of the classical Greek deities, and should be of some interest to anyone interested in the artist, comparative religion, or any number of related things.
In the evening we have
long and often very grave conversations in bed.
Now that I can
understand Tehura, in whom her ancestors sleep and sometimes dream, I strive to
see and think through this child, and to find again in her the traces of the
far-away past which socially is dead indeed, but still persists in vague
memories.
I question, and not all
of my questions remain unanswered.
Perhaps the men, more
directly affected by our conquest or beguiled by our civilization, have
forgotten the old gods, but in the memory of the women they have kept a place
of refuge for themselves. It is a touching spectacle which Tehura presents,
when under my influence the old national divinities gradually reawaken in her
memory and cast off the artificial veils in which the Protestant missionaries
thought it necessary to shroud them. As a whole the work of the catechists is
very superficial. Their labors, particularly among the women, have fallen far
short of their expectations. Their teaching is like a feeble coat of varnish
which scales off, and quickly disappears at the slightest skillful touch.
Tehura goes regularly to
the temple, and offers lip-service to the official religion. But she knows by
heart, and that is no small task, the names of all the gods of the Maori
Olympus. She knows their history, she teaches me how they have created the
world, how they rule it, how they wish to be honored. She is a stranger to the
rigors of Christian morals, or else she does not care. For example, she does
not think of repenting of the fact that she is the concubine, as they call it,
of a tané.
I do not exactly know
how she associates Taaroa and Jesus in her beliefs. I think that she venerates
both.
As chance has come she
has given me a complete course in Tahitian theology. In return I have tried to
explain to her some of the phenomena of nature in accordance with European
knowledge.
The stars interest her
much. She asks me for the French name of the morning-star, the evening-star,
and the other stars. It is difficult for her to understand that the earth turns
around the sun. . . .
She tells me the names
of the stars in her language, and, as she is speaking, I distinguish by the
very light of the stars who are themselves divinities the sacred forms of the
Maori masters of the air and the fire, of the islands and of the waters.
The inhabitants of
Tahiti, as far as it is possible to go back in their history, have always
possessed a rather extended knowledge of astronomy. The periodical feasts of
the Areois, members of a secret religious and military society which ruled over
the islands and of which I shall have more to say, were based on the
revolutions of the stars. Even the nature of moonlight, it seems, was not
unknown to the Maori. They assume that the moon is a globe very much like the
earth, inhabited like it and rich in products like our own.
They estimate the
distance from the earth to the moon in their manner thus: The seed of the tree
Ora was borne from the moon to the earth by a white dove. It took her two moons to reach the satellite, and when after two more moons she fell
upon the earth again, she was without feathers. Of all the birds known to the
Maoris, this one is regarded as having the swiftest flight.
But here is the Tahitian
nomenclature of the stars. I complete Tehura's lesson with the aid of a very
ancient manuscript found in Polynesia.
Is it too presumptuous
to see in this the beginnings of a rational system of astronomy, rather than a
simple play of the imagination?
Roüa — great is his
beginning — slept with his wife, the Gloomy Earth.
She gave birth to her
king, the sun, then to the dusk, and then to the night.
Then Roüa cast off this
woman.
Roüa — great is his
beginning — slept with the woman called "Grande Réunion."
She gave birth to the
queens of the heaven, the stars, and then to the star Tahiti, the evening-star.
The king of the golden
skies, the only king, slept with his wife Fanoüi.
Of her is born the star
Taüroüa (Venus), the morning-star, the king Taüroüa, who gives
laws to the night and the day, to the other stars, to the moon, to the sun, and
serves as a guide to mariners.
Taüroüa sailed at the
left toward the north, where he slept with his wife, and begat the Red Star,
the star which shines in the evening under two faces.
The Red Star, flying in
the East, made ready his pirogue, the pirogue of the full day, and steered
toward the skies. At the rise of the sun he sailed away.
Rehoüa now arises in the
wideness of space. He sleeps with his wife, Oüra Taneïpa.
Of them are born the
Twin-kings, the Pleiades.
These Twin-kings are
surely identical with our Castor and Pollux.
This first version of
the Polynesian genesis is complicated with variations which are perhaps only
developments.
Taaroa slept with the
woman who calls herself Goddess of the Without (or of the sea).
Of them are born the
white clouds, the black clouds, and the rain.
Taaroa slept with woman
who calls herself Goddess of the Within (or of the earth).
Of them is born the
first germ.
Is born in turn all that
grows upon the surface of the earth.
Is born in turn the mist
of the mountains. Is born in turn he who calls himself the Strong.
Is born in turn she who
calls herself the Beautiful, or the one Adorned-in-order-to-Please.
Mahoüi launches his pirogue.
He sits down in the
bottom. At his right hangs the hook, fastened to the line by strands of hair.
And this line, which he
holds in his hand, and this hook, he lets fall down into the depths of the
universe in order to fish for the great fish (the earth) .
The hook has caught.
Already the axes show,
already the God feels the enormous weight of the world.
Tefatou (the God of the
earth and the earth itself) caught by the hook, emerges out of the night, still
suspended in the immensity of space.
Mahoüi has caught the
great fish which swims in space, and he can now direct it according to his
will.
He holds it in his hand.
Mahoüi rules also the
course of the sun, in such a way that
day and night are of equal duration.
I asked Tehura to name
the Gods for me.
Taaroa slept with the
woman Ohina, the Goddess of the air.
Of them is born the
rainbow, the moonlight, then, the red clouds and the red rain.
Taaroa slept with the
woman Ohina, Goddess of the bosom of the earth.
Of them is born Tefatou,
the spirit who animates the earth, and who manifests himself in subterranean
noises.
Taaroa slept with the
woman called Beyond-the-Earth.
Of them are born the
Gods Teirü and Roüanoüa.
Then in turn Roo who
sprang from the flank of his mother's body.
And of the same woman
were also born Wrath and the Tempest, the Furious Winds, and also the Peace
which follows these.
And the source of these
spirits is in the place whence the Messengers are sent.
But Tehura admits that
these relations are contested.
The most orthodox
classification is this. The Gods are divided into Atuas and Oromatuas.
The superior Atuas are
all sons and grandsons of Taaroa.
They dwell in the
heavens. — There are seven heavens.
Taaroa and his wife
Feii Feii Maïteraï had as sons: Oro (the first of the gods after his
father, and who himself had two sons (Tetaï Mati and Oüroü Tetefa), Raa (father
of Tetoüa Oüroü Oüroü, Feoïto, Teheme, Roa Roa, Tehu Raï Tia Hotoü,
Temoüria), Tane (father of Peüroürai, Piata Hoüa, Piatia Roroa, Parara Iti
Matai, Patia Taüra, Tane Haeriraï), Roo, Tieri, Tefatou, Roüa Noüa, Toma Hora,
Roüa Otia, Moë, Toüpa, Panoüa, Tefatou Tire, Tefatou Toutaü, Peuraï, Mahoüi,
Harana, Paümoüri, Hiro, Roüi, Fanoüra, Fatoühoüi, Rii.
Each of these gods has
his particular attributes.
We already know the
works of Mahoüi and Tefatou. ...
Tané has the seventh
heaven for his mouth, and this signifies that the mouth of this god, who has
given his name to man, is the farthest end of the heavens whence the light
begins to illume the earth.
Rii separated the
heavens and the earth.
Roüi stirred up the waters
of the ocean; he broke the solid mass of the terrestrial continent, and divided
it into innumerable parts which are the present islands.
Fanoüra, whose head
touches the clouds and whose feet touch the bottom of the sea, and Fatoühoüi,
another giant, descended together upon Eïva — an unknown land — in order to
combat and destroy the monstrous hog which devoured human beings.
Hiro, the god of
thieves, dug holes in the rocks with his fingers. He liberated a virgin whom
the giants held captive in an enchanted place. With one hand he snatched up the
trees which during the day concealed the prison of the virgin, and the charm
was broken. ...
The inferior Atuas are
particularly occupied with the life and work of men, but they do not abide in
their dwelling-places.
They are: the Atuas Maho
(god-sharks), guardian spirits of mariners; the Peho, gods and goddesses of the
valleys, guardian spirits of husbandry; the No Te Oüpas Oüpas, guardian
spirits of singers, of comedians, and of dancers; the Raaoü Pava Maïs, guardian
spirits of physicians; the No Apas, gods to whom offerings are made after they
have protected one from witchcraft and enchantment; the O Tanoü, guardian
spirits of laborers; the Tane Ite Haas, guardian spirits of carpenters and
builders; the Minias and the Papeas, guardian spirits of the roofers; the
Matatinis, guardian spirits of makers of nets.
The Oromatuas are
household gods, the Lares.
There are Oromatuas
properly so called, and Genii.
The Oromatuas punish the
fomenters of strife, and preserve peace in the families. They are: the Varna
Taatas, the souls of the men and women of each family who have died; the
Eriorios, the souls of the children, who have died at an early age of a natural
death; the Poüaras, the souls of the children, who have been killed at birth,
and who have returned into the body of grasshoppers.
The Genii are
conjectural divinities, or rather consciously created by man. Without apparent
motive, except that of his own choice, he attributes divine qualities to some
animal or to some object, as, for example, a tree, and then he consults it in
all important circumstances. There is in this, perhaps, a trace of Indian
metempsychosis with which the Maoris very probably were acquainted. Their
historical songs and legends abound in fables in which the great gods assume
the form of animals and plants.
In the last rank of the
celestial hierarchy, after the Atuas and the Oromatuas, come the Tiis.
These sons of Taaroa and
Hina are very numerous.
In the Maori cosmogomy,
they are spirits, inferior to the gods and strangers to men. They are
intermediate between organic beings and inorganic beings and defend the rights
and prerogatives of the latter against the usurpations of the former.
Their origin is this:
Taaroa slept with Hina,
and of them was born Tii.
Tii slept with the woman
Ani (Desire), and of them were born: Desire-of-the-night, the messenger
of shadows and of death; Desire-of-the-day, the messenger of light and of life;
Desire-of-the-gods, the messenger of the things of heaven; Desire-of-men, the
messenger of the things of the earth.
Of them in turn were
born: Tii of the within who watches over animals and plants; Tii of the without
who guards the beings and things of the sea; Tii of the sands, and Tii of the
sea-shores, and Tii of the loose earth; Tii of the rocks and Tii of the solid
earth.
Still later were born:
the happenings of the night, the happenings of the day, going and coming, flux
and reflux, the giving and receiving of pleasure.
The images of the Tiis
were placed at the farthest ends of the maraës (temples), and formed
the limit which circumscribed the sacred places. They are seen on the rocks and
on the sea-shores. These idols have the mission of marking the boundaries
between the earth and the sea, of maintaining the balance between the two
elements, and of restraining their reciprocal encroachments. Even modern
travelers have seen a few statues of Tiis on the Ile-de-Pâques. They are
colossal outlines partaking of human and animal forms, and bear witness to a
special conception of beauty and a genuine skill in the art of working in
stones, for they are architecturally constructed of superimposed blocks with
original and ingenious combinations of color.
The European invasion
and monotheism have destroyed these vestiges of a civilization which had its
own grandeur. When the Tahitians to-day raise monuments, they achieve miracles
of bad taste — as, for example, the tomb of Pomare. They had been richly
endowed with an instinctive feeling for the harmony necessary between human creations
and the animal and plant life which formed the setting and decoration of their
existence, but this has now been lost. In contact with us, with our school, they have truly become "savages," in the sense which
the Latin occident has given this word. They themselves have remained beautiful
as masterpieces, but morally and physically (owing to us) they have become
unfruitful.
Some traces of maraës still exist. They were parallelograms broken by openings. Three
sides were formed of stone walls, four to six feet in height; a pyramid not as
high as it was wide formed the fourth. The whole had a width of about one
hundred meters, and a length of forty. Images of Tiis decorated this simple
architectural structure.
The moon had an
important place in the metaphysical speculations of the Maoris. It has already
been stated that great feasts were celebrated in her honor. Hina is often
invoked in the traditional recitals of the Areois.
But her share or rôle in
the harmony of the world is negative rather than positive.
This appears clearly in
the dialogue between Hina and Tefatou.
Such texts would offer
beautiful material for exegists, if the Oceanian Bible could be found as a
subject for commentary. They would see there first of all the principles of a
religion based on the worship of the forces of nature — a characteristic common
to all primitive religions. The greater number of Maori gods are in effect
personifications of different elements. But an attentive glance, if not misled
or depraved by a desire to demonstrate the superiority of our philosophy over
that of these "tribes," would soon discover interesting and singular
characteristics in these legends.
I should like to point
out two, but I shall do no more than indicate them. The problem of verifying
these hypotheses is a matter for savants.
It is above all the
clearness with which the two only and universal principles of life are
designated and distinguished and ultimately resolved into a supreme unity. The
one, soul and intelligence, Taaroa, is the male; the other in a certain way
matter and body of the same god, is the female, that is Hina. To her belongs
all the love of men, to him their respect. Hina is not the name of the moon
alone. There is also a Hina-of-the-air, a Hina-of-the-sea, a Hina-of-the-Within,
but these two syllables characterize only the subordinate parts of matter. The
sun and the sky, light and its empire, all the noble parts of matter, so to
speak, or rather all the spiritual elements of matter are Taaroa. This is
definitely formulated in more than one text, in which the definition of spirit
and matter can be recognized. Or what, if we acquiesce in this definition, is
the significance of the fundamental doctrine of the Maori genesis:
THE GREAT AND HOLY
UNIVERSE IS ONLY THE SHELL OF TAAROA — ?
Does not this doctrine
constitute a primitive belief in the unity of matter? Is there not in this
definition and separation of spirit and matter an analysis of the twofold
manifestations of a single and unique substance? However rare such a philosophical
intention may be among primitives, it does not follow that one should decline
to receive testimony. It is evident that the Oceanian theology had two ends in
view in the actions of the god who created the world and conserves it: the
generative cause and matter which has become fecund, the motive force and the
object acted upon, spirit and matter. It also appears clearly that in the
constant interaction between the luminous spirit and the perceptive matter
which it vivifies — that is to say in the successive unions of Taaroa with the
diverse manifestations of Hina — one should recognize the continual and
ever-varying influence of the sun upon things. And in the fruits of these
unions are to be seen the changes continually effected in these very elements
by light and warmth. When once we have a clear view of this phenomenon out of
which the two universal currents proceed, we see that in the fruit are united
and mingled the generative cause and the matter which has become fecund, in
movement, the motive force and the object acted upon, and in life, spirit and
matter, and that the universe just created is only the shell of Taaroa.
In the second place it
appears from the dialogue between Tefatou and Hina, that man and the earth
shall perish, but that the moon and the race inhabiting it shall continue. If
we recall that Hina represents matter, and that according to the scientific
precept, "all things transform but nothing perishes," we must agree
that the old Maori sage who invented the legend knew as much about the subject
as we do. Matter does not perish, that is to say it does not lose the qualities
which can be perceived by the senses. Spirit, on the contrary, and light, this
"spiritual matter," are subject to transformation. There is night and
there is death, when the eyes close, from which light seemed to radiate and to
reflect. Spirit, or rather the highest actual manifestation of spirit, is man.
"Man must die . . . he dies never to rise again. . . . And man should
die." But even when man and the earth, these fruits of the union of
Taaroa and Hina, have perished, Taaroa himself will remain eternal, and we are
told that Hina, matter, will also continue to be. There will then necessarily
be present throughout all eternity spirit and matter, light and the object which
it strives to illumine. They will be urged on with a mutual desire for a new
union from which will arise a new "state" in the infinite evolution of life.
Evolution! . . . The
unity of matter! . . . Who would have thought to find such testimony of a high
civilization in the conceptions of former cannibals? I can with good conscience
say that I have added nothing to the truth.
It is true that Tehura
had no doubts concerning these abstractions, but she persisted in regarding
shooting stars as wandering tupapaüs and genii in distress. In the same spirit
as her ancestors, who thought that the sky was Taaroa himself and that the
Atuas descended from Taaroa were simultaneously gods and heavenly bodies, she
ascribed human feelings to the stars. I do not know in how far these poetic
imaginings impede the progress of the most positive science, neither do I know
to what point the highest science would condemn them.
From other points of
view it would be possible to give other interpretations to the dialogue between
Tefatou and Hina: The counsel of the moon who is feminine might be the
dangerous advice of blind pity and sentimental weakness. The moon and women,
expressions in the Maori conception for matter, need not know that death alone
guards the secrets of life. Tefatou's reply might be regarded as the stern, but
far-sighted and disinterested, decree of supremest wisdom, which knows that the
individual manifestations of actual life must give way before a higher being in
order that it may come and must sacrifice themselves to it in order that it may
triumph.
In earlier days this
response would have had a much more far-reaching implication and the import of
a national prophecy. A great spirit of ancient days would have studied and
measured the vitality of his race; he would have foreseen the germs of death in
its blood without the possibility of recovery or rebirth, and he would have
said:
Tahiti will die, it will
die never to rise again.