Volume 3 — THE LAST PRIESTESS OF PELE.

My erratic habits have led me through a variety of climes and scenes, and, on two occasions, to the distant regions of Polynesia, even to the shores of Hawaii, memorable as the death-scene of our famous navigator, Cook. Hawaii is the principal of the Sandwich Islands, a group not exceeded in interest by any which stud the broad bosom of the Pacific. Their local situation, advantageous for purposes of commerce, is highly important; but these remote shores present various subjects of interest besides geographical position. The primitive race who inhabit them, so long and totally isolated from the rest of the world, the enchanting beauty of their scenery, the luxurious productions of their salubrious climate, indicative of peace and plenty, furnish subjects worthy of investigation; while, strangely contrasted with these bounties of nature, is the awful sublimity of their volcanic mountains, that too often burst forth into eruptions which spread frightful devastation over scenes glowing with beauty, particularly the volcano of Kiranea, probably the largest in the world. Even the first view of this island struck me as remarkable, for it looks like congeries of mountains on one common base, heaving their huge cones to the height of fourteen or sixteen thousand feet above the level of the sea, while the lower grounds, every where irregular, were covered with trees and with the richest verdure. We were hospitably received by a native chief. An Englishman who had long resided on the island acted as interpreter, and by this means, as well as some knowledge which we had acquired of the Polynesian language during a visit

The volcano we were desirous of seeing was thirty miles from the place of our landing, and we set out for it on the following day, attended by some of the natives, and also by the English settler, to act as interpreter. The commencement of our journey seemed auspicious, leading through a wood, where trees afforded a grateful shade from the heat of a tropical sun, while gorgeous birds fluttered among their boughs, or regaled us with the melody of their songs. The fragrant gardenia, and other beautiful flowers, so highly prized in our own country as hot-house plants, profusely adorned our path. But too soon the scene began to change. By degrees, trees, shrubs, and flowers disappeared—all traces of vegetation, except an occasional oasis. We were traversing a tract of lava that looked like an inland sea, over which the wand of an enchanter had suddenly waved while it was agitated by violent undulations, and turned it into stone. Not only were the swells and hollows distinctly marked, but the surface of the billows seemed covered by a smaller ripple. Our passage over this petrified ocean was most laborious, owing to the heat of the sun, the reflection of its light from the lava, and also the unevenness of the way, which was as slippery as glass.

Just as day declined, we hailed with pleasure the residence of a chief, where we were to pass the night, our friend at the harbor having commissioned our attendants to introduce us as strangers in need of the owner's hospitality, which was readily accorded. Our host and his establishment evinced that advancement toward civilization was not limited to the coast. His dwelling was divided into separate apartments by screens of native cloth, and we were ushered into a large, airy, reception-room, where we reposed our weary limbs on a divan covered with mats, which extended the whole length of the apartment. A feast was prepared for our entertainment; but I refrain from an account of the baked dogs, hogs, and other dainties which adorned the board. During the repast, a native bard sang, in a monotonous but sweet voice, "the deeds of the days of other years," accompanying himself by beating a little drum formed of a beautifully stained calabash; and then a group of dancers were introduced for our amusement. But nothing interested me so much as our host, who sat next to me at supper, performing the duties of hospitality with an intuitive good-breeding and tact which I thought quite a sufficient substitute for the conventional usages of European society. He was, in common with all the aristocratic race of Hawaii, tall, well-formed, with fine, muscular limbs, and a commanding air; his complexion clear olive, and his handsome features wore an open and intelligent expression. To my surprise, he spoke very tolerable English; this was accounted for by long intimacy with our friend the interpreter, and with the missionaries, who, since their settlement in the island, had taught him to read. I was glad when he announced his intention of accompanying us to the volcano, our journey to which we recommenced the following morning. A toilsome one it proved, but Toleho, the young chief, stuck close to me, and from such snatches of conversation as I could hold with him, while we scrambled over masses of vitrified lava and basaltic blocks jumbled together in wild confusion, the interest I had felt in him at first sight was considerably increased. At length we reached the great plain of the volcano, and the mountain of Mauna Loa burst upon our view in all its magnificence, like an immense dome, of a bronze color, rising from a plain twenty miles in breadth; its head was covered with snow, the effect of which is peculiar when beheld under a tropical sun.

Nearly overcome with heat and fatigue, we sat down to rest. Through the fissures of the rocks, there grew an abundance of small bushes bearing fruit of a pleasant flavor, which we eagerly gathered to allay our thirst. To this some of the natives objected, asserting that the berries belonged to Pele, the goddess of the volcano, who would be much incensed by our eating them, until some had been thrown into the crater as a propitiatory oblation. The English settler who accompanied us, set about proving the absurdity of their fears, and, while the point was being discussed, I observed that Toleho, who was seated with me apart from the others, was quietly refreshing himself with the forbidden fruit. I inquired why he also did not fear the wrath of the formidable goddess?

"Toleho knows better," he replied. "Toleho knows that there is but one God; without His leave, the volcano can not hurt us. He looketh on the earth, and it trembleth; he toucheth the hills, and they smoke."

I now learned from him that, under the instruction of the missionaries, he had been led to embrace the truths of Christianity.

"I have lately avowed this conviction," he said; "and were I to remain in this country, would do my utmost to promote a knowledge of the Bible among my friends and people."

"And have you any idea of leaving this country?" I inquired, with surprise.

"Alas! yes, I must leave it," he replied, in a voice and with a look of such deep dejection, that I understood it to be a subject of too distressing a nature for further interrogatories, and we spoke about other matters until the party was sufficiently rested to proceed to the crater of Kiranea. I expected that we were for this purpose to ascend the mountain which stood before us in such majestic beauty, and, undaunted by the magnitude of the task, I longed to climb its stupendous sides, and to inhale the pure atmosphere at its summit, so that it was with a feeling of disappointment I heard myself called upon to behold the crater upon the very plain to which we had already attained. At first view, it seemed to be nothing but a huge black pit, totally different from all we had imagined. There were no jets of fire, nothing but a body of black smoke, rising high to the clear blue heavens, and then spreading widely over the hemisphere. We journeyed onward, till we found ourselves on the edge of a steep precipice inclosing a sunken plain, in the middle of which was the crater. Our guides led to a part of the precipice where descent was practicable, and, with some falls and bruises, we all reached the basin beneath, which sounded hollow under our tread, giving evidence, by smoking fissures here and there, of subterranean burnings. As we advanced, the impression of vastness and grandeur increased at every step; but, when we stopped at the edge of the great crater, the sight was appalling. There we stood, mute with astonishment and awe, transfixed like statues, our eyes riveted on the abyss below, a vast flood of burning matter rolling to and fro in a state of frightful ebullition. I know not how long we thus gazed, in speechless wonder; but the natives had, meanwhile, employed themselves in constructing, of branches of trees, ferns, and rushes, which, nourished by the moisture of vapors, grew in chasms of lava, huts to shelter us during the night, now fast approaching, and to them we were glad to repair, when our emotion had somewhat subsided. The attendants now cooked our supper in a crevice from which steam issued, and, after doing ample justice to their labors in this volcanic cuisine, I again walked to the edge of the crater, accompanied by Toleho.

It was now quite dark, and truly it has been said, that what is wonderful in the day becomes ten times more so at night. Now was the time for viewing the volcano in all its magnificence. We seated ourselves at a height of four or five hundred feet, directly over that lake of fire: its cherry-colored waves were rolling below, with billows crested and broken into sheets and spray of fire, like waters when the hurricane sweeps them over a reef of rocks. There was a low murmuring noise, and occasionally masses of red-hot matter were ejected seventy feet into the air, which fell back into the lake with a hissing sound. My companion, though accustomed from childhood to these wonders, seemed fully to participate in my feelings. He evidently possessed a soul susceptible of the sublime and beautiful and the scene on which we gazed was associated in his mind, as I afterward learned, with early and endearing recollections. He was gratified by my admiration of it, and this congeniality of taste soon led him to treat me with the confidence of an old friend. Presuming upon this, I ventured to recur to the hint he had dropped that morning of an intention to quit his native island, inquiring whether his profession of Christianity had subjected him to any kind of persecution? He told me in reply, that Hawaiian converts were nearly exempted from this ordeal of sincerity by the edict which had abolished idolatry before the missionaries' arrival. "But," he added, with intense feeling, "Toleho found the change hard, notwithstanding. No fear of Pele; even were there any such, what could that cruel goddess do to one who trusted in Jesus? But Pele's priestess—the last she will ever have, but the loveliest, the dearest of women—it was that Toleho found so hard." My expression of sympathy elicited his full confidence, and, in a conversation which followed, interrupted as our colloquial intercourse necessarily was by our imperfect acquaintance with each other's language, I became possessed of an outline of Toleho's previous history, which subsequent information enabled me to fill up, as I shall now give it in detail.

The young Hawaiian chief had, when a child, been betrothed to the hereditary priestess of Pele, the Goddess of Fire, supposed to inhabit the volcano of Kiranea. Whether this redoubtable deity be in any way related to Bel, the Oriental god of the same terrible element, greater scholars and antiquarians than I am must determine; but it seems to me that the similarity of the names is a curious coincidence, which would be not an uninteresting subject of investigation. The young priestess was the only child of the khan, or steward of Pele, an office of honor and emolument, his duty being to provide materials for the sacrifices, such as cloth, hogs, fowls, and fruit, with which he was abundantly furnished by her worshipers. The young lovers were constant companions during their childhood, and were linked together by the endearing bonds of early affection, which grew with their growth, and strengthened with their strength. It appeared that the devotion of Toleho had never been so ardently rendered to the imaginary goddess as to her beautiful young priestess, for his natural acuteness often led him to skeptical conclusions when he considered the national system of theology; nor had his superior mind long dwelt upon such subjects, when, in the words of a poet who has well described a somewhat similar case,[9]

It was, in truth, interesting to trace the history of

Emancipated from the trammels of superstition, you will not wonder to hear that his mind joyfully received the truths which God has revealed to mankind, when, after the arrival of the missionaries, he had an opportunity of hearing them: and I had reason to believe, that not only was his understanding enlightened, but his heart deeply imbued with the spirit of the gospel. Toleho's first wish was, to lead her he loved to the joy and peace in believing which he now experienced. After a rumor of the young chief's apostasy from the religion of his fathers had gone forth, on returning one day from a visit to the missionary station, he hastened to the dwelling of the khan.

Oani was seated under the shade of a large eugenia tree, where she had often before awaited his arrival, but she did not now spring forward to meet him; her eyes were no longer lit up with joy when she beheld his approach, and, after one look, expressive of deep sorrow, were turned away. Toleho eagerly inquired if any misfortune had occurred? Was her father ill?

She burst into tears, and replied, "No—I weep because Oani must not love Toleho any longer."

He soon discovered that his change had awakened in the breast of the khan feelings of opposition beyond any he had anticipated. Ancestral pride—the office of khan being hereditary—early prejudices, strengthened by time and self-interest, often too influential over the actions of those who possess a better faith, exercised combined power on the old man's mind. Perhaps he was also stimulated by the more generous and romantic sentiment with which we are inclined to regard the decay of what has been hallowed by antiquity; and he stigmatized those who forsook the ancient idolatries as meanly subservient to the will of the great, endeavoring to imbue the mind of his daughter with similar feelings.

Poor Oani had neither ability nor inclination for controversial disquisitions. When her lover tried to lay before her the truths which had influenced him to the change she deplored, a knowledge of which would enable her to appreciate his motives, she would only weep, and say, "Toleho, I am sad—sleep has gone from me, and my food has lost its sweetness. If you do not worship Pele, her priestess must try not to love you. No more may I sing for you when you are weary; no more gather summer fruits to refresh you; nor bind sweet flowers in a chaplet for your brow."

When the chief remarked, that by her embracing Christianity these objections to their union would be obviated, her only answer was, "Could I leave my father? He never will forsake Pele. Could I—the only light of his eyes—the last flower left to gladden the winter of his life—could I leave his old age desolate?"

The separation of these Polynesian lovers was now inevitable, and it was a sore trial, for they were fondly attached. It was at this era of their story that I became acquainted with the young chief, and great was the interest with which I listened to his simple narration, heightened, probably, by the extraordinary circumstances under which I heard it, seated together as we were, at midnight, upon the brink of the fiery abyss, contemplating a scene so stupendous, so "horribly beautiful," that probably no other in this world can compete with it.

I could now understand the cause of poor Toleho's intended expatriation. Oani would probably be given to another. Could he bear to witness it? to see her miserable? No; he would quit the scenes of his happy days, and, far away from objects which might agitate his mind, and interfere with duty, would spend his life in the service of Him who had graciously "called him from darkness to light." His friends at the mission-house had already arranged the matter with a captain, who would give him a passage in his ship to the American States, where he was to use every exertion in his power for the purpose of awakening an interest in the cause of the Polynesian mission. Toleho then informed me, that on the following morning would take place a great annual feast in honor of Pele, designed to deprecate the wrath of the volcanic goddess, and secure the country from earthquakes or inundations of lava, at which, of course, the khan and the young priestess would preside. This would afford him an opportunity of once more beholding the latter before he left the islands—the last time he could ever hope to do so; and, for the purpose of enjoying this melancholy pleasure, he had joined our party to the volcano.

We now returned to the hut, and I went to repose, rejoicing that I should have an occasion of witnessing some of the idolatrous rites of the natives before their final abolition.

Next morning, while my companions prepared to examine the various natural phenomena of the place, I put myself under the guidance of my new friend, who took me across the lava plain to the heiau, or temple, dedicated to Pele, an inclosure, with several stone idols standing in the midst of it. Votaries had already assembled around the shrine, adorning these frightful images with wreaths of flowers; and innumerable offerings were laid before them. As the devotees continued to arrive, my companion stood, watching every new comer, with an expression of anxiety and agitation. At length the sound of music was heard, and a procession approached, for which the crowd opened an avenue to the temple. At its head was an old man, attired in what I supposed were the pontifical robes, leading by the hand a young female. Over their heads was borne a canopy, and they were followed by a train of attendants, each carrying a staff of state, ornamented with polished tortoise-shell, the upper ends being of feathers. The sage was the khan, and his companion the priestess of Pele, whose beauty, I soon perceived had not been exaggerated in her lover's glowing description. Never had I beheld a form of more

After some ceremonies had been performed in the temple, the various contributions of the people were taken to the volcano, to be presented to the goddess. Thither the procession moved, and Toleho and I followed in the crowd. Arrived at the crater, the khan made an oration in praise of Pele, deploring the national apostasy from her worship, until wrought up to a state of great excitement, in which his auditors seemed to participate, except the beautiful priestess, who, standing on the verge of the gulf, still wore her look of calm dejection, while she received small specimens of the various offerings from the votaries, and threw them into the volcano, saying, in a voice of peculiar sweetness, "Accept these offerings, Pele. Restrain thy wrath, and pour not the floods of vengeance over our land. Save us, O Pele?"

Toleho darted from the crowd, and stood beside her. His stately form was drawn up to its full height; from his shoulders hung a splendid mantle of green and scarlet feathers; his right arm was extended, and in it he held a small book.

"Oani! beloved Oani!" he exclaimed; "call not upon Pele to save you. There is but one Saviour, and to know Him is life."

"Recreant," cried the khan, "you have forsaken the great goddess yourself, and you would now draw away her priestess."

"Khan, and thou beloved Oani, listen," the chief replied, in a solemn tone. "If there be such a deity as Pele, is she worthy of your adoration? Is she not ever busy in works of mischief—destroying the people, devastating our hills, and filling up our fruitful valleys with floods of lava? Are they not cruel gods, who even require human sacrifices? Could such beings have created that bright pure sky over our heads, or that glorious sun which sends light and heat to ripen our corn and our fruit? No! The Creator of all must be good, as well as great—an object of love as well as of fear. Friends, countrymen, this book can tell you of Him."

This seemed to make some impression on the people, but the khan was even more exasperated than before.

"Traitor," he cried, "would you persuade us to disown our gods, while we stand gazing on their terrible abode? They dwell in yonder fiery lake; behold their houses!" pointing to the black conical craters which rose here and there above the waves. "Do you not hear the roaring and crackling of the flames? That is the music to which they dance; and in yonder red surge they often play, sporting in its rolling billows. Pele is a great goddess; acknowledge her power, Toleho, and Oani—her priestess, the playmate of your childhood, the betrothed of your youth—shall be yours, for she pines in secret for her loved one. Reject Pele, and part with Oani forever."

As he said this, a bright smile lit up the countenance of the young priestess, as if hope had suddenly revived in her bosom. She turned toward her lover with a look of imploring affection, laying her small hands on his arm, and said, "Toleho will not leave me; we may love one another still."

He made a movement as if instinctively about to clasp her to his breast, but seemed, with a strong effort, to resist the impulse; a convulsive motion passed over his manly features; his strong frame trembled; and, in a voice half-choked by contending feelings, he said, "Oani, I must—I must leave you. There is but one God, and Him only will I serve. Beloved maiden, trust to Him—not to senseless idols."

She withdrew her hands, and clasped them together in mute despair. Her father exclaimed, "Heed him not. Great is the power of Pele. My daughter, you are her priestess; and, though you flung yourself from that shelving rock on which you stand, into the gulf below, Pele could save you." He was now in a state of frenzy. "She could and she would save you; prove to them her power."

"I will, I will," cried the unfortunate girl. "And I want her not to save me if she can. Toleho forsakes me, and I wish not for life."

Ere the outstretched hand of her lover could prevent it, she had turned and sprung down the precipice.

A yell of horror burst from the crowd, and there was a general rush toward the spot, so great, that for several minutes I could not approach it. Minutes of intense anxiety they were. I heard one voice exclaim, "He will perish—Toleho—the pride of Hawaiian chiefs."

"No," cried another, "he has almost reached the spot where she lies."

An interval of silence followed. The people evidently watched some critical event in breathless suspense. Then there was a shout of joy—Toleho and his loved one were both in safety. There was, as I afterward learned, a crag projecting from the wall-faced cliff over which the young priestess had flung herself; on that spot she had fallen, the elasticity of some shrubs and herbs with which it was covered preserving her from any serious injury. Toleho, with wonderful presence of mind and activity, had succeeded in descending to that place, and, by means of a kind of ropes flung to him from the summit, re-ascended, and, pale as death, but still firm and composed, had laid his almost senseless burden in the arms of her father.

The scene which followed would be difficult to describe. When, after some time, a flood of

Here was a trying offer to my poor friend. Again Oani turned on him that bright smile, that beseeching look, which were hard to be withstood; but, though there were symptoms of yielding, of a violent internal struggle, he soon regained composure, and said, "It must not, can not be—it is forbidden here," holding up the book. "Farewell, Oani. Never will I forget you. I go to distant lands, but I will love you still. Keep this book: in it are the words of life. In our happy days, I was teaching you to read. Get some other teacher, and, for Toleho's sake, learn all this book teaches, and we may yet meet where there is no sorrow."

One embrace, and he darted away. I followed with difficulty, keeping by his side, as rapidly and silently he walked to the place where we had agreed to meet our companions.

In a few days, we sailed from Hawaii, but not before we had seen the young Hawaiian chief bid adieu to his native land, and sail for America.

Years passed away. Constant change of scene and variety of events had nearly obliterated from my memory the story of the priestess and her lover, when my wanderings once more brought me among the Polynesian islands, and again to the shores of Hawaii. We were to remain but for a few days, and, having visited the great volcano before, I now directed my steps to the next object of interest in the neighborhood, what my informant called "the Cascade of the Rainbow." This is a waterfall in the river Wairuku, and surpassed in beauty all my anticipations. The water, projected from a rock over a hundred feet in height, falls into a circular basin, as smooth as a mirror, except where the stream plunges in, and from its bright bosom reflects the enchanting scenery which surrounds it; while trees and shrubs, laden with blossoms of various hues, adorn its banks. Nor was the poetical appellation of this romantic valley inappropriate, for, on the silver spray flung up by the fall of waters, "an Iris sat" in its variegated beauty. "What a spot to spend the evening of one's days in after a life of turmoil," I exclaimed. "But probably, I have been anticipated in this idea, as there is, I see, a cottage beyond that green lawn, and a tasteful, picturesque edifice it appears." I walked toward it, and the neatness and comfort of every thing were a new proof of the wonderful improvement which I had already observed among the islanders, arising from the spread of Christianity and civilization. The lady of the mansion, holding by one hand a child who walked at her side, while with the other she supported a baby in her arms, advanced to meet and invite me in. She had, to a high degree, the air of dignity, I had almost said of graceful elegance, which characterizes the aristocracy of the island; and, when she bade me welcome, the tones of her voice and the contour of her features seemed familiar. "Oani!" thought I; "Oani, a wife and a mother. Poor Toleho! So much for woman's constancy." But I wronged her—I wronged that sex who, if inferior in other things, surpass us in depth and unchangeableness of affection. We entered the sitting-room; her husband rose to receive me—it was Toleho.

After the departure of the chief, Oani had found no comfort in any thing but in trying to fulfill his last request. One of the missionaries assisted her, and she was soon able to read the Testament, which had been his parting gift. Conviction of its truth, and a profession of Christianity followed, in which she was uninfluenced by interested motives, as she had not the most remote hope of ever seeing Toleho again, but the missionaries, who held communication with him through the American Society, informed him of the change, and he returned to Hawaii, and claimed her as his own. I found them a loving and happy pair, and left them so.