Complete Works of Robert Louis Stevenson (Illustrated)
Page 885
At nine o’clock they started on the steep climb up the mountain, the path having been cleared the day before by men sent up through the thoughtful kindness of the Administrator. Mr. Field led the way with the casket wrapped in a fine mat, then came Mrs. Field and Laulii, each carrying one of the mats used in Samoan funeral ceremonies, these being the same that had been carried at Mr. Stevenson’s burial.
The funeral procession as it wound up the hill.
After them came Colonel Logan and the two high chiefs, Tamasese and Malietoa, followed by all the other guests, including forty chiefs of the Tuamasaga. The procession, very picturesque in white clothing and wreaths of flowers, wound slowly up the mountainside in a zigzag path under the forest trees. Overhead the branches met in a leafy roof, and on each side of the narrow path the jungle closed in, thick, lush, and green. The lianas looped across from bough to bough, huge birds’ nest ferns lay tucked in the branches, on all sides big-leaved plants, fronds of ferns, and tangled creepers crowded each other for space, and through all the mass of wild tropic growth the hot sunlight filtered in splashes of bright green.
When, after many breathless pauses, the top was at last reached, the case was laid on the base of the tomb and covered with fine mats, with flowers all about it. Among them were the Japanese imitation cherry-blossoms sent by Yonida and Fuzisaki, the gardeners at Stonehedge. The company then gathered around the tomb in a semi-circle, and Colonel Logan read the Church of England service. It was an impressive ceremony, and the hearts of all were deeply moved by it. Filemoni, the Samoan pastor, followed with an eloquent speech in the native language.
The mats were then removed from the small space that had been cut into the base of the tomb, and the little case was fitted in and cemented over. George Stowers, the original builder of the tomb, was there, and his hand sealed the ashes in their last resting-place.
The ceremony now being over, the party went down the hill in little groups, resting by the way on fallen logs. Crossing the river at the bottom, they came into the Loto Alofa Road (Road of the Loving Hearts), where Amatua had made all the preparations for the funeral feast, which was to be given according to Samoan custom. A long table-cloth, consisting of bright-green breadfruit and banana leaves and ferns, stretched along the ground for sixty feet or more. The feast was preceded by the ceremonious drinking of kava and speeches in Samoan. “I had expected the usual somewhat flowery eulogies,” wrote Mrs. Field, “but their speeches were sincere and some of them very beautiful. They were translated by an interpreter, but fortunately my memory of the language helped me to follow the meaning, even though some of the ‘high chief’ expressions were beyond me. ‘Many foreigners had visited Samoa,’ they said, ‘but of all who had professed affection and admiration for the land only one loved it so well that he chose it for his last resting-place. Tusitala had been the true friend, the dearly loved, the deeply mourned, and now when the wife of his heart had joined him after many lonely years the occasion was one too tender and too beautiful for sorrow.’ They assured me that we might leave Samoa with peaceful hearts, knowing that those we loved were in the land — not of strangers, but of devoted friends, who would cherish the tomb on Vaea as they cherished in their hearts the memory of Tusitala and Aolele.”
Amatua then announced that the feast was ready, and the Governor and his wife were seated at the head at one end of the long table, with Tamasese and Malietoa Tanu on either side. The board, figuratively speaking, groaned under a great spread of native delicacies. It was full noon by this time, and very hot, but Amatua had thoughtfully placed little trees all along the side to keep off the sunshine. “At the end of the feast,” says Mrs. Field, “I made a little speech of thanks, and it came straight from my heart, for I was deeply touched by the kindness of them all and their loyalty to the memory of my dear mother and Tusitala. We tried to thank Colonel Logan and his wife, but words can never do that.”
“Nothing more picturesque can be imagined than the narrow plateau that forms the summit of MountVaea, a place no wider than a room and as flat as a table. On either side the land descends precipitately; in front lie the vast ocean and the surf-swept reefs; in the distance to the right and left green mountains rise, densely covered with the primeval forest.”
Stevenson’s tomb, with the tablet and lettering, was designed by Gelett Burgess, and was built by native workmen under the direction of a half-caste named George Stowers. The material was cement, run into boxes and formed into large blocks, which were then carried to the summit on the strong shoulders of Samoans, though each block was so heavy that two white men could scarcely lift it from the ground. Arrived at the summit the blocks were then welded into a plain and dignified design, with two large bronze tablets let in on either side. One bears the inscription in Samoan, “The resting-place of Tusitala,” followed by the quotation in the same language of “Thy country shall be my country and thy God my God.” The other side bears the name and dates and the requiem:
“Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.”
When Mr. and Mrs. Field arrived in Samoa they brought with them a tablet which they carried to the summit of Mount Vaea and had cemented in one end of the base of the tomb. It is of heavy bronze, and bears the name Aolele, together with these lines:
“Teacher, tender comrade, wife,
A fellow-farer true through life,
Heart whole and soul free,
The August Father gave to me.”
On the tablet for Mr. Stevenson the thistle for Scotland had been carved at one corner and the hibiscus for Samoa at the other. On his wife’s the hibiscus was placed at one corner, and after long hesitation about the other, a sudden inspiration suggested to Mrs. Field the tiger-lily — bright flower whose name had been given to little Fanny Van de Grift by her mother in the old days in Indiana.
The tomb, showing the bronze tablet with the verse from Stevenson’s poem to his wife.
Before leaving the island Mr. and Mrs. Field endowed a scholarship for three little girls at the convent school — one to be chosen by the sisters, one by Tamasese, and one by Mitaele, the last of the Vailima household. All they asked was that these little girls should go to the tomb on the 10th of every March, the birthday of Aolele, and decorate the grave. That they kept their promise is shown by the following quotation from the Samoan Times:
“On Friday morning, the 10th instant, the three pupils of the convent school, Savalalo, whose scholarships were endowed by Mr. and Mrs. Salisbury Field in memory of the late Mrs. Robert Louis Stevenson, the mother of Mrs. Field, paid a visit to the Stevenson tomb on Mount Vaea in honor of the anniversary of the birthday of the deceased lady. The little party left at 7 A.M. and arrived at the summit of the hill at about nine o’clock. Upon arrival at the top of the hill the children lost no time in decorating the grave with wreaths of flowers and greenery, a plentiful supply of which was taken by them. After the decorating the party sat down to a small taumafataga (high chief lunch), after which they returned to town.”
Tiger-lily and Scotch thistle — they sleep together under tropic stars, far from the fields of waving corn and the purple moorlands, but each year hands, alien to them both, tenderly lay flowers on their tomb.
Stevenson’s final resting place: Væa Mountain, Samoa
Table of Contents
The Novels
TREASURE ISLAND
THE BLACK ARROW
PRINCE OTTO
THE STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE
KIDNAPPED
THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE
THE WRONG BOX
THE WRECKER
CATRIONA
THE EBB-TIDE
WEIR OF HER
MISTON
ST. IVES
The Unfinished Novels
HEATHERCAT
THE GREAT NORTH ROAD
THE YOUNG CHEVALIER
The Short Story Collections
NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS
MORE NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS - THE DYNAMITER
THE MERRY MEN AND OTHER TALES AND FABLES
ISLAND NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS
FABLES
TALES AND FANTASIES
The Short Stories
CHRONOLGOICAL LIST OF SHORT STORIES
ALPHABETICAL LIST OF SHORT STORIES
The Poetry Collections
A CHILD’S GARDEN OF VERSES
UNDERWOODS
BALLADS
SONGS OF TRAVEL AND OTHER VERSES
ADDITIONAL POEMS
The Poems
CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF POEMS
ALPHABETICAL LIST OF POEMS
The Plays
DEACON BRODIE
BEAU AUSTIN
ADMIRAL GUINEA
MACAIRE
THE CHARITY BAZAAR
The Travel Writing
AN INLAND VOYAGE
TRAVELS WITH A DONKEY IN THE CEVENNES
A MOUNTAIN TOWN IN FRANCE
EDINBURGH: PICTURESQUE NOTES
THE AMATEUR EMIGRANT
ACROSS THE PLAINS
THE SILVERADO SQUATTERS
THE OLD AND NEW PACIFIC CAPITALS
The Non-Fiction
VIRGINIBUS PUERISQUE AND OTHER PAPERS
FAMILIAR STUDIES OF MEN AND BOOKS
MEMORIES AND PORTRAITS
MEMOIR OF FLEEMING JENKIN
RECORDS OF A FAMILY OF ENGINEERS
ADDITIONAL MEMORIES AND PORTRAITS
LATER ESSAYS
LAY MORALS
PRAYERS WRITTEN FOR FAMILY USE AT VAILIMA
A FOOTNOTE TO HISTORY
IN THE SOUTH SEAS
LETTERS FROM SAMOA
LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE
JUVENILIA AND OTHER PAPERS
PIERRE JEAN DE BÉRANGER ARTICLE
THE COMPLETE LETTERS
The Biographies
THE LIFE OF ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON By Sir Graham Balfour
THE LIFE OF ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON FOR BOYS AND GIRLS By Jacqueline M. Overton
THE LIFE OF MRS. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON By Nellie Van De Grift Sanchez