Note 16 — Chapter XXI

I find in a Californian paper the following amusing account by Mr. Mathews himself, of his appearance before a Honolulu audience:—

"At Honolulu, one of the loveliest little spots upon earth, I acted one night 'by command, and in the presence of his Majesty Kamehameha V., King of the Sandwich Islands' (not 'Hoky Poky Wonky Fong,' as erroneously reported), and a memorable night it was. On my way to the quaint little Hawaiian Theatre, situated in a rural lane, in the midst of a pretty garden, glowing with gaudy tropical flowers, and shaded by cocoa-trees, bananas, banyans, and tamarinds, I met the playbill of the evening. A perambulating Kanaka (or native black gentleman), walking between two boards (called in London, figuratively, 'a sandwich man,' but here, of course literally so), carried aloft a large illuminated white lantern, with the announcement in the Kanaka language to catch the attention of the coloured inhabitants: 'Charles Mathews; Keaka Keia Po (Theatre open this evening). Ka uku o Ke Komo ana (reserved seats, dress circle), $2.50; Nohi mua (Parquette), $1; Noho ho (Kanaka pit), 75c.' I found the theatre (to use the technical expression) 'crammed to suffocation,' which merely means 'very full,' though from the state of the thermometer on this occasion, 'suffocation' was not so incorrect a description as usual. A really elegant-looking audience (tickets 10s. each), evening dresses, uniforms of every cut and every country. 'Chieftesses' and ladies of every tinge, in dresses of every colour, flowers and jewels in profusion, satin playbills, fans going, windows and doors all open, an outside staircase leading straight into the dress circle, without lobby, check-taker, or money-taker. Kanaka women in the garden below selling bananas and pea-nuts by the glare of flaring torches on a sultry tropical moonlight night. The whole thing was like nothing but a midsummer-night's dream. And was it nothing to see a pit full of Kanakas, black, brown, and whitey-brown (till lately cannibals), showing their white teeth, grinning and enjoying 'Patter v. Clatter' as much as a few years ago they would have enjoyed the roasting of a missionary or the baking of a baby? It was certainly a page in one's life never to be forgotten."