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20 May, 6 and 26 June, 19 and 25 August 1844 — Letter from Charles Mathieu to his brother, Wallis

Based on the copy, APM OW 208 Mathieu.

Four sheets of “Bath” paper, forming sixteen pages, fifteen of which are written on; the sixteenth bears only Poupinel’s annotation. The present letter was written in several stages, probably begun on 20 May 1844, then continued on 8 and 26 June and on 19 August, and finally completed on 25 August. An extract from paragraph 10 was published in Nos pionnières, doc. 10.

Translation by Merv Duffy and ChatGPT, August 2026.

[p. 16]

[In Poupinel’s hand:] Wallis, 20 May and 25 August 1844 — Letter from the Reverend Father Mathieu to his brother.

[Editorial note: “20” corrected from “25.”]

[p. 1]

Wallis, 20 May 1844.

[1]

At last, my dear brother, a welcome opportunity has arisen for me to send you news. The Adolphe has just arrived at Wallis with three of our confrères who left France fourteen months ago aboard the Phaéton, and with all our belongings. It still has several calls to make in Oceania; then it will return to France, or at least find some opportunity in Tahiti to forward our dispatches there. My dear brother, I have now been among the good people of Wallis for nearly six months. I have done nothing but work at learning the language. I am now beginning to hear confessions and converse with the islanders. I have not yet dared to give public instructions, but that will come soon, I hope, provided that I remain here. You may be pleased to receive some details about the customs of this very distant population and about the progress of this little mission, which the good God has blessed in such an extraordinary manner. I shall give them insofar as time permits.

[2]

The island of Wallis is about ten leagues in circumference. It is surrounded by some ten islets of varying sizes and, beyond them, by a belt of reefs through which ships can enter only by a very narrow passage. The population is 2,600. About ten years ago, these people were considered very wicked. They did, in fact, massacre some thirty Europeans; they also burned an English ship and killed the entire crew except for a cabin boy. Since then, the good God has greatly changed them. There are few places in all Oceania where ships receive a better welcome or are safer. The Wallisians have brown skin and long hair, either hanging over their shoulders or frizzed into the shape of a large turban. From the armpits to the feet, they wear a large tapa wrapped several times around their bodies, together with a fine mat fastened by a belt of cords. They are tattooed only from the waist to the knees. Almost all of them have the little finger of one hand cut off as a result of their former superstitions. In pagan times, they customarily cut off their children’s little fingers to appease the gods. Their features are generally noble and well defined and differ little from those of Europeans. Their houses consist of a large, round roof covered with leaves and supported by posts in the centre and all around. Although I am not very tall, I have to stoop considerably to enter. This design is useful for protection from the rain, which sometimes falls in torrents and is driven with great violence by the wind. It also allows air to pass through on every side, providing relief from the intense heat, which is almost continuous. The interior is covered with mats on which people sit, sleep, and eat. Although dwellings are scattered along almost the entire coast, there are nevertheless three principal settlements or villages in which churches have been built.

[3]

The principal church, which is 125 feet long and 40 feet wide, is dedicated to Our Lady of Good Hope. The islanders call her Resina Sepei. The second church is dedicated to Saint Joseph and the third to Saint Peter. These churches are wooden, with walls of planks. They are very solid, although they contain neither nails nor pegs. All the pieces are joined with small cords made from coconut fibre. Even the planks are sewn together in this manner. Nevertheless, neither high winds nor storms can shake them. They already have altars, candlesticks, stalls, chairs, and so forth, as in the churches of France. Our brothers made all these things with much labour. In each church, a lamp burns before the Blessed Sacrament. The women tend it with extraordinary care. Whenever there is a strong wind, I see them remain beside the lamp, by day as well as by night, holding a burning brand with which to relight it should it go out. Near each church stands a square house with small rooms for the missionaries, and another for the young men who accompany them or wish to live with them. These young men number thirty or forty. Of their own accord they have given themselves to the missionaries to serve and accompany them, provide their food, and work for them alongside the brothers. They do this out of devotion and consider themselves greatly honoured when we agree to receive them. They feed our pigs and chickens, work in the garden, and even cook, as the brothers have taught them.

[4]

The inhabitants of Wallis are cheerful, fond of a good joke, respectful, and devoted to their missionaries. All the songs they compose now concern either religious subjects or their missionaries. Almost all of them have very beautiful voices and are mad about singing. It is not unusual to hear them sing from evening until sunrise. They sing while working, walking, and carrying loads. We have taught them several melodies from our French hymns, which they perform very well.

[5]

Almost all of them can read and write, but paper is lacking in the country. It would be a great service to the mission if large quantities could be sent from France. Better still would be to send someone who knows how to make it, together with his equipment, because excellent raw materials for making paper are available here. The printing press could then operate without interruption, and Christian instruction could thereby spread throughout all the islands of the apostolic vicariate.

[6]

My dear brother, I should never finish if I tried to recount every detail of this people’s customs. They have rules of politeness that are observed as strictly as those of France. We must know them and conform to them, at least to some extent. Kava and its ceremonial are present at every gathering. No visit can be made or received without the root being presented, chewed, and distributed according to all the required forms. Although this drink is rather unappetising to Europeans, it is nevertheless very wholesome and useful in this burning climate. After living here for a while, one soon ceases to think about how it is prepared and drinks it like anything else. If you could transport yourself to Wallis, you would often see me seated amid a circle of old men, for we bear the name of “old men” or “elders” and hold the rank of chiefs in the country. Opposite us are the young people, with a large wooden bowl two or three feet in diameter, several empty coconuts filled with water, a few shells, and a bundle of fibre called fao. When the root has been presented to me, I thank the person who offered it. I present it to someone else, who does the same with his neighbour; then the root is thrown to the young people, who consider it their duty to divide it immediately, clean it, and chew it. Meanwhile, the day’s affairs are discussed. Soon all the chewed pieces fall into the large bowl. The person who is to mix the drink then shows them to the presiding member of the assembly, who either approves them or has them divided if they are too large. The operator then kneads the kava with a thoroughly fashionable movement of his head and body. Water is ordered to be poured in, after which the mixture is strained and clarified through the fibre. Three people sit around the bowl. The mixer is in the middle. Two others sit beside him with small pieces of wood to remove any bits of straw or dirt that may be in the liquid. When the drink is ready, the person who mixed it claps his hands loudly three or four times to announce that everything is prepared. The tufa, who always sits beside the presiding member of the assembly, then orders the distribution. The fibre is plunged into the bowl and squeezed so that the liquid falls into coconut cups. Each time a cup is filled, one of those seated beside the bowl announces it aloud, and the tufa orders it to be carried to a particular member of the assembly, naming each in turn according to rank and status. Before receiving the delightful cup, one must show one’s satisfaction by clapping two or three times. The liquid is grey in colour and is neither pleasant nor particularly unpleasant. As for its flavour, some find it peppery. For my part, I know nothing with which to compare it: it is a little bitter, a little peppery, and a little of everything. It does not make one drunk, but it causes weakness when taken to excess.

[7]

These ceremonies vary according to the circumstances. At large gatherings or feasts, kava is followed by a distribution of food. Recently, the inhabitants held a great feast for the First Communion of the children of the principal parish. There were forty-eight roasted pigs served on the ground, more than fifty or sixty baskets of yams, as many baskets of coconuts, and fish and other dishes besides. At this feast, we ourselves acted as the tufa, distributing with our own hands to each child who had received Communion a piece of pork, a yam, and a coconut. This greatly touched and edified those present.

[8]

The inhabitants of Wallis are now very eager for the word of God and the sacraments. In addition to the missionaries’ instructions, every village and small hamlet has catechism classes for men, women, and children, in which the better instructed teach the others. Everyone goes to confession and receives Communion approximately once a month, which gives the missionaries a great deal of work. There is not a Catholic home on the entire island in which the rosary is not recited together in the evening, with a hymn to the Blessed Virgin. Although all the houses are open, theft is never heard of. The officers of a French ship recently decided to test our islanders in this respect. They deliberately left fishhooks and other objects likely to tempt them lying about on deck, but the islanders brought the objects to the officers, believing they had been mislaid accidentally.

[9]

My dear brother, I shall not speak to you about the government of this island, for it is the country’s great misfortune. There is no government, or at least it is absurd, and to this day it has proved impossible to create a reasonable one. The man who bears the title of king is merely a great mass of flesh, without strength or energy, who concerns himself only with eating and drinking and leads a very unedifying life. There are two other influential chiefs, one still a pagan and the other a Protestant. The pagan, named Tuugahala, supports the Catholic religion while causing the missionaries difficulties of every kind. The Protestant, named Pooi, seeks to destroy the religion out of hatred for the former. He has about a hundred heretics with him. It is remarkable that we are able to remain here and do good in the face of such obstacles. We are now on the verge of war. Pooi is seeking to assassinate Tuugahala, and Tuugahala is preparing for war against Pooi. His house is guarded every night by men armed with clubs, spears, or muskets. I do not know what Providence is preparing for us or how this affair will end. Religion has no real part in these disputes, which began long before its establishment, but the Protestants may soon begin a persecution. They have already forced several people who are still weak in the faith to join their party.

[10]

I am interrupted by a woman of the parish who has come to peer through my doorway to see what I am doing. This is their custom; women are curious everywhere. She asks me to whom I am writing. I tell her that it is to my relatives. I must then tell her all your names. I ask whether she has any message for you. Yes: she sends her regards to Aselika and Angélique. She would be very pleased to see Angélique come here to instruct the women of Saint Joseph’s parish. She asks me to thank you for having sent a priest who can give them the sacraments and Holy Communion. The island was very unhappy before a priest came to instruct them and teach them to know God. She expresses her gratitude in so many ways that I cannot translate them all. This woman is named Susanne and has four or five small children. She is the one who teaches catechism to the women of the country. It is amusing to see the astonishment of these good people whenever some new object that they have never seen before arrives from France. After looking at it carefully, they touch it, smell it, and turn it in every direction; then they express their admiration with an exclamation or a little click of the tongue. I greatly intrigued them with a penknife and pen-sharpening device that Angélique gave me shortly before my departure. A cry of admiration goes up each time the pen emerges already sharpened from the little machine. They must turn the knife over and over in every direction to see what is inside it.

[11]

A few days ago, a horse sent as a gift to the king by the French governor of Tahiti was brought ashore. The poor animal had been so badly treated aboard ship by the rolling of the vessel and the lack of food that it was pitiful; one could have counted its ribs. As soon as it reached land, it was surrounded by a crowd of islanders who could not tire of contemplating such a large animal. They immediately called it a large dog, but they were not entirely reassured about it. Every time the horse moved towards them, they ran away. They asked whether it was fierce, whether it ate people when angry, whether it ate pork or meat, and whether it bit like a dog. I stroked it to reassure them. Leaves and grass were brought for it. They watched it eat for a long time, examining the shape of its teeth and whether it chewed the cud like sheep. Finally, they did not leave until they had seen it relieve itself, whereupon there was another exclamation. They said to me recently: “Now we know this great animal. We have seen it do everything; all that remains is for us to hear it sing.”

[12]

8 June. His Lordship has just embarked aboard the Adolphe with the three priests and two brothers who recently arrived. He is going to attempt to establish a new mission in the Fiji Islands and to strengthen the one in Tonga. He is leaving me here with one priest who knows the language even less well than I do. Since he announced his departure, the island has been in despair. Tears flow from every eye. The people cannot be reassured, despite all his promises that he will return in a month. I must employ all my rhetoric to dispel the fears of these good people.

[13]

Although I have so far done very little for them, they already show great attachment to me. They come to see me, bring me kava roots, and seek consolation from me during their bishop’s absence. My regret is that I cannot yet speak freely with them, being unfamiliar with their language and especially with their style and manners, which are so different from ours.

[14]

I am sending you a song they composed quite some time ago, when His Lordship told them that he would be absent while travelling through his apostolic vicariate. There are many others filled with the most touching sentiments. There are also a number about me, but I do not have them in writing. They likewise sing all the stories of the Old and New Testaments and all the truths of religion as they learn them; indeed, they sing of everything new that strikes their imagination or their eyes. They have sung about the three priests who arrived and the pictures placed in the church; they have also sung about the horse.

[15]

On fine evenings when the moon is bright, the population gathers in some pleasant and convenient place, beneath a large tree or outside the church. The old men sit on the ground or on mats, with the kava root and the customary large bowl. At some distance away, the young people are likewise seated, but in groups of five or six, facing one another. These groups are choirs of male or female singers, all organised and practised. Not everyone is admitted to these choirs; only those whose voices are judged suitable may join. Each choir then sings in turn, some continually repeating the refrain while the others perform the song or narrative. This music continues throughout the night and is interrupted only by the listeners’ applause and by the loud voice of the tufa, who names the members of the assembly to whom the delightful drink is to be distributed.

[16]

There is something so original about these songs that I cannot express it. I believe that a European musician would find it rather difficult to write down their melodies, although they are extremely simple. One notices great harmony, unity, and rhythm in the voices and, above all, complete stillness and imperturbable calm among the singers. Although the songs are sometimes comic and provoke bursts of laughter throughout the assembly, there is never any change or movement in the singers’ expressions. When the songs are sad and moving, tears sometimes flow from the singers’ eyes, but without altering their voices in the slightest. The refrain, which is usually some new word introduced into their language by the missionaries, often bears no relation to the rest of the song. It is simply a kind of drone included for harmony and repeated continually. They repeat it two or three times at the end and then finish abruptly, leaving it incomplete. They also have songs for walking or marching. On Sundays, I often suddenly hear the men and young people begin their lau (song) in stentorian voices. They all walk in formation at a solemn pace, singing as they go through the village. When they are invited into a house to take kava, they enter and afterwards begin again, continuing until the rosary or evening prayers: “Affection for Father M. and Father Roudaire; they are our priests; they guide our canoe to heaven.” Or: “Love and respect for the Sovereign Pontiff who reigns in Rome.” Or: “Let us pray to Saint Peter, who holds the keys of paradise, to open its gate for us.” There are innumerable songs about our Holy Father Pope Gregory XVI and Saint Peter, to whom they have great devotion as head of the Church.

[17]

26 June. I resume my letter, which was interrupted by an event that caused me some anxiety for a time. On the day after His Lordship’s departure, I was informed that a ship was in sight. Some time later, I learned that it was the Protestant missionaries’ schooner, that they were trying to enter through the passage behind the island, and that their boat had already put several people ashore. I immediately hurried to the parish nearest their landing place, so that I could better learn of their activities, fully determined to resist them with all my power if they attempted to infect the flock. Two English ministers went to Pooi’s home with several islanders from Tonga and Niua. They remained with him for only one day, exhorted him to persevere in his heresy, and left with him two men and one woman from Niua. They departed immediately, greatly troubled, it is said, by His Lordship’s voyage to Tonga and Fiji.

[18]

Several days after their departure, I received a letter addressed to His Lordship that had been left ashore by the schooner’s second officer, who was a Catholic. The letter was from Father Chevron, missionary in Tonga. He told His Lordship about all the efforts the ministers were making to obstruct his ministry and how, in their sermons, they slandered France and the religion alike. They organised public prayers and fasts to preserve the island from the arrival of a French warship. They said that the French were their greatest enemies and were seeking to seize their island and reduce it to slavery. These slanders make a great impression on this people, who are naturally fearful and suspicious of foreigners and perhaps more attached to their independence than any people in the world. For my part, I believe that France could not seize the islands of Oceania without exterminating most of their inhabitants and suffering great losses and enormous expense herself. You can judge how much such rumours harm Catholic priests, whom they seek by these means to represent as political agents preparing the way for a usurpation. We could accomplish nothing unless we used every resource and made every possible declaration to dispel such prejudices.

[19]

Some time ago, the Protestants spread the same rumours in Wallis. Even Tuugahala was shaken by them. A little more and our lives might perhaps have been in danger. One evening, His Lordship went to the home of Pooi, the source of all these slanders. I accompanied him with several good Catholics. I held paper and pencil in my hand, and we had provided ourselves with a lamp. We found Pooi in his house surrounded by his entire band. After seating ourselves solemnly in his presence, His Lordship questioned him about the rumours he was spreading concerning him. There were four or five, each more absurd than the last. He asked where Pooi had obtained this information: whether it came from a whaler, from some letter he had received, and so forth. I then took out my paper and pencil to record the reply. Pooi appeared extremely embarrassed by this procedure. He evaded the question for some time and then took refuge in saying that he had never spread such rumours and did not even believe them. Thus, he contradicted himself and lied publicly. As he denied each allegation, I wrote down every denial. This ceremony impressed them sufficiently to silence them. Since then, they have no longer dared to speak against us openly, but I fear that they do so secretly, without my knowing. We must remain constantly on our guard.

[20]

An American whaler recently arrived at Wallis. It carried about twenty Protestant islanders from Niua who had asked to be brought here. From them, and from an Englishman who had spent several years on that island, we learned of the treatment the Protestants inflict upon these poor islanders. It is incredible! For certain offences, they are flogged with ropes until they are covered in blood. Some even die under the blows. For other offences, their hair and eyebrows are torn out. The chiefs have these cruelties carried out at the ministers’ instigation. We were given such a description of them that we could not have believed it had we not ourselves seen the marks on the bodies of those who came ashore. How sad is the condition of these poor peoples, who are forced to restrain themselves for such reasons and are driven by fear like animals, without having been taught to love goodness and virtue.

[21]

In Wallis, we have no legislation, no penal code, no courts, and chiefs who torment us and who, if they could, would be the foremost instigators of wrongdoing. Nevertheless, the entire population conducts itself well through the grace of God alone and the help of the sacraments. Since I have been here, I have heard of no offence except an occasional momentary outburst of anger in which someone was struck, or someone’s pig was accidentally killed by his neighbour. At the same time as one learns of the incident, however, one also learns of the reconciliation. The guilty party comes of his own accord to receive his punishment, which is no more than a simple reprimand from the missionary. If the little nation of Wallis had a good government, it would be paradise on earth.

[22]

Among the young men there is astonishing zeal for working to spread the faith among unbelievers and heretics. They ask in great numbers to leave with the missionaries. His Lordship took several with him, about twelve, to Tonga and Fiji. Among them was a boy of about fifteen named Selevatio (Gervais). He was a little angel of piety. For this reason, His Lordship had allowed him to accompany the missionaries to Fiji. One day I saw him in tears and inconsolable; he had been unable to obtain his parents’ permission. I tried to console him by saying that we would leave together later, but several days afterwards I was astonished that he was nowhere to be seen. They searched everywhere without knowing what had become of him. Finally, after several days, they found him. He had slipped into a boat going out to the Adolphe and had hidden in the hold. He remained crouched there, hoping that the ship would depart quickly and that it would be too late to put him ashore. The ship was delayed for several days, however, and he was discovered. He then found one of his relatives on deck and asked him to intercede with his father and mother. They were finally moved and allowed him to leave. When asked why he had acted in this way, he said: “I should like to know whether the bishop and the missionaries asked their parents’ permission before leaving France. Had they done so, we would still be in our fakadevolo, our paganism.” I do not doubt that this child, through his zeal and prayers, will render great service to the mission to which he goes.

[23]

His Lordship also took with him a married man named Philippe. He is a prodigy of memory and intelligence. He knows all the languages of the neighbouring islands, English, and a little French. I do not know how he learned them, except that he did so in order to be useful to the mission. His only regret is that he is married and cannot go everywhere to establish the new missionaries. On this occasion, he decided to take his wife with him to Tonga. Through their zeal and example, these good islanders often do more good than the missionaries. They also help to obtain the food the priest needs. If priests were sent here in large numbers, I believe there would soon be no young people left in Wallis.

[24]

The old men of Wallis are also very edifying. Most have still preserved their baptismal innocence. It is wonderful to see truly Christian gentleness beneath such features and such an outwardly savage appearance. One man was nicknamed “the old tiger” by the commander of the Ambuscade, and he does indeed have the features of one. He has the wildest appearance imaginable. His true name is Honorio, and he is the king’s prime minister. He was one of His Lordship’s most ardent persecutors when the latter arrived on the island. Now he is a lamb. When he stays at Saint Joseph, I am certain to see him arrive every morning with his little kava root. In the evening, he cannot return home without touching and kissing our hands as a sign of affection. When he speaks in assemblies, it is only to recommend respect and submission towards the missionaries. “As for me,” he says, “I am the brother, or likeness, of an old tree leaning over the edge of an abyss. I am a tua noa, a base and useless man. I once set you a very bad example. Here now are those whom you must heed and who will guide your canoe to heaven.” This good old man shed many tears at His Lordship’s departure. He could not go two days without seeing him and asking for his blessing. Today, he consoles himself before the Blessed Sacrament, to which he is devoted, and patiently awaits the bishop’s return.

[25]

At Saint Joseph there is also a poor leper who is extremely useful to me. His entire face has been eaten away. Only his eyes and tongue remain, but his soul is filled with zeal. Despite his thoroughly hideous appearance, he is loved, respected, and heeded by the entire parish, which he constantly instructs and exhorts. Despite his continual suffering, he is always cheerful and content; he is always the one who sustains the conversation during the kava gatherings. He makes fun of his body as it rots away and consoles himself by saying that those who are handsome and well formed today will resemble him a few days after their death. He is the man I can always rely upon; it is he who fosters piety among the young people.

[26]

19 August. His Lordship has just returned. He left one priest in Tonga and two at Namuka in Fiji. I was beginning to be very anxious about his absence. The winds were almost always against him, and his voyage lasted much longer than expected. The enemy of salvation raised all kinds of difficulties during his journey, but the Blessed Virgin prevailed. My dear brother, every day confirms the promise of persecution that Our Lord made to his apostles.

[27]

It was time for this good bishop to arrive and relieve my anxiety. For the past fortnight, the Protestant party in Wallis had been strengthened by approximately 130 people who arrived from Niua in a canoe. Despite their peaceful words, I did not trust their sincerity. I foresaw upheaval, all the more because Tuugahala appeared to wish to ally himself with them against us. Nevertheless, the good God alone has kept all these matters under control. Until now, the mission has depended upon him alone, and it is for him alone to preserve his work. I went to see Maʻatu, king of Niua, who arrived in this canoe. He showed me great friendship. I hope that a conversation with His Lordship will do him good and dispel many of the prejudices that the Protestants have placed in his mind against us. The rumours that the English ministers spread everywhere against us, and especially against France, whose agents they represent us to be, are incredible. Matters have reached the point where the name “Frenchman” is now grounds for exclusion throughout Oceania. His Lordship encountered endless difficulties on his voyage because of this. It is a new kind of persecution, but one that I hope will not last long. Hell must exhaust its entire series of lies against us.

[28]

Now this holy bishop has returned to Wallis, and I am at peace. If we must suffer, we shall suffer together. His arrival here was most touching; this was his first absence. At daybreak, as soon as his ship could be seen through the mist, the islanders came to wake me with cries of joy: “Vaka papalagi, epikopo, epikopo!” I rose immediately and had the bell rung for Mass. It was Sunday. The wind was excellent, and the ship anchored opposite Saint Joseph’s Church during Mass. Immediately after the Holy Sacrifice, I went to the shore with the altar servers, cross, thurible, holy-water vessel, and so forth, to conduct the solemn reception. When the boat arrived, tears of joy flowed from the eyes of all the people assembled on the shore. After the customary ceremonies, His Lordship entered the church, preached, and celebrated Holy Mass. There was such joy among all these people that I cannot express it. During the three days His Lordship remained here, the house was never empty of people coming from every direction to visit him, bring him kava, and ask for his blessing.

[29]

The seven or eight inhabitants of Tonga whom His Lordship brought with him were also received perfectly. For the most part, they are not yet baptised. They have come to observe Wallis and examine what happens here, so that they may report it in Tonga and thereby refute the Protestants’ slanders, for the Protestants never cease to say all kinds of evil about us. They appear very well disposed, and I believe it will not take long to make them good Catholics. We have given them a small lodging in the house of our young men at Saint Joseph. Several young Tongans who have lived here for a long time have already begun instructing them.

[30]

My dear brother, I am obliged to leave you before I have been able to recount many other small details that might perhaps have interested you. The ship is about to depart. I must occupy myself with making a crate in which to send you several small objects from the country: a kava bowl with kava roots, fibre for straining it, a cup from which to drink it, a mat, a piece of sandalwood from Fiji, a Wallisian tapa, and a length of coconut-fibre cord of the kind with which our houses are built. If these objects were of interest to the Bishop of Amiens, you would do well to give them to him as curiosities for his seminary.

[31]

Commend me to the prayers of this holy bishop, and also to the prayers of all the good souls of our acquaintance and of the clergymen of the town who still remember me.

[32]

I embrace you with all my heart.

Your brother,

Mathieu, missionary

Wallis, 25 August 1844.

doc. 328 — 20 May, 6 and 26 June, 19 and 25 August 1844

Letter from Charles Mathieu to his brother

Partial translation by Fr Charles Girard SM

---

[2] The island of Wallis is about 10 leagues in circumference. It is surrounded by about ten islets which are more or less large, and beyond by a belt of reefs which allow ships to enter only through a very narrow pass. There are 2600 inhabitants. [...]

[3] The Wallisians are tan skinned, they have long hair floating on their shoulders or combed up in the form a large turban. They are clothed from their armpits to their feet in a large tapa cloth wrapped several times around the body and they also wear a fine mat attached with a string belt. They are tattooed from the belt to the knees. Almost all of them have the little finger of the hand amputated because of ancient superstitions. While still pagans, it was their custom to cut the little finger of their children to appease the gods. Their countenance is generally noble and full of character, it shows little difference from that of the Europeans. The houses have a large round roof covered with leaves and help up by pillars in the middle and all around. Although I am not very tall, I have to bend deeply in order to enter. This form of house is suitable for keeping out the rain which sometimes falls in torrents and is violently pushed along by the wind. It also allows air to pass through from all sides to cool the house during the almost continuous times of great heat. The interior is covered with mats on which people sit, lie down, and eat. Although the houses are spread out along almost all the coast, there are however three main points or villages where churches have been built. [...]

[4] The inhabitants of Wallis are merry, they like jokes, they are respectful and affectionate toward their missionaries. All the songs they compose are now either on religious subjects or about their missionaries. Almost all of them have beautiful voices and are crazy about singing. It is not rare to hear them singing from the evening until sunrise. They sing while working, while walking, while carrying burdens. [...]

[6] [These people] have their rules of politeness as strictly observed as in France; we need to know these rules and observe them at least up to a certain point. Kava with its ceremonial is offered at all meetings; no one can make or receive a visit unless the kava root is presented, chewed and distributed, with all the necessary prescriptions. This drink, although Europeans do not find it very inviting, is nonetheless very healthy and very useful in this burning climate. After a stay of some time, one soon forgets about the way in which it is made and one drinks it like anything else. If you could come to Wallis, you would often see me in the middle of a circle of old men (for we bear the name of old men or elders and we hold the rank of chief in this country.) A young person faces us with a large shallow wooden bowl, about 2 or 3 feet in diameter, with several empty coconuts filled with water, a few sea shells and a wisp of hemp called fao. When the root has been presented to me, I thank the one who has offered it. I present it to someone else who does the same to his neighbor, then the root is thrown to the young person whose duty it is to divide it up immediately, to clean it and to chew it. During this time, we talk about the business of the day. Soon all the chewed pieces fall into the large plate. Then the one who is to stir the liquor shows them to the president of the assembly who says that it is well and who has them divided if there are too many of them. Then the one is working at it kneads the kava what a quite fashionable movement of head and body, then it is ordered that water be poured in, then that the whole be sifted and cleared with the hemp. Three individuals are seated around the plate. The one who stirs is in the middle. Two others are on either side of him with small wooden sticks to extract the little pieces of fiber or refuse which might remain in the liquor. When the drink is ready, the one who stirred it claps his hands three or four times with a loud noise to give notice that all is ready. Then the tufa (distributor), who is always seated next to the president of the assembly, orders that it be distributed. The hemp is thrust into the plate and then squeezed to cause the liquor to fall into the coconut cups. Each time a cup is filled, one of the individuals seated next to the plate gives notice of this in a loud voice, and the tufa orders it to be brought to one or another in the assembly, notably to each in turn according to his rank and standing. Before accepting the delicious cup, one must testify his satisfaction by clapping his hands two or three times. This liquor has a gray color is neither agreeable nor very disagreeable. As for its taste, there are some people who find that it has a peppery taste. As for myself, I do not know of anything to which it can be compared; it is somewhat bitter, somewhat peppery, a bit of all that. This liquor does not inebriate the drinker, but makes one languid when drunk to excess.

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