VI

Before I finally left Samoa, about April 1926, was settled, more or less, a characteristic row between the London and Catholic Missions. There had been held in Upolu a synod, at which all the native pastors and white missionaries of the London Mission were present. During the convocation a page 216native pastor arose and said that he had read or heard of an article in an American newspaper, in which a deplorable state of affairs at the Vatican was revealed. There was, it seemed, a secret and jealously guarded room at the Vatican, in the centre of which was a deep well. Here the numerous offspring of the nuns and priests were destroyed. Would it not be a good thing to publish this article in the London Mission publication Le Sulu, so that all Samoa might know the truth about the "Popeys"? The white missionaries proceeded or pretended to debate the point. Possibly so; but it would probably be necessary to obtain the permission of the editor of the American newspaper; they would consider what should be done.

The synod dispersed, and the story, which now bore the hallmark of European credence, spread like wildfire over Samoa. The Catholic Mission then, to assuage, so they said, the feelings of their people—some of whom in their shame contemplated deserting the church, while others threatened to resort to physical reprisal—decided to retaliate. Accordingly, in the Catholic native publication appeared an article which stated that "these dirty lizards"—a choice insult in Samoa—who had spread this story were like dogs who rejected good food, but went and ate the filth¹ along the beaches. The "Popeys" were now satisfied. Honours were even. It was the turn of the native pastors of the London Mission to fulminate.

The London Mission, in the next publication of their paper, were filled with virtuous horror at the coarseness of these "Popey" expressions, and intimated that anything might well be believed of the authors of them. In any case they had now decided not to publish the article to which exception had been taken, so the Catholics were clearly in the wrong. How was it possible, they asked, to live at peace with such people?

The Roman Catholic bishop, on the strength of this, announced his intention of taking the matter to law. He also let it be known that he would carry the case beyond Samoa and even New Zealand if need be. The Administrator, however, convened a round-table conference of members of the two missions. There was a stormy session at which he was present, lasting I believe two days. Finally it was agreed that the Govern-page 217ment should issue a statement expressing regret for what had transpired on behalf of each of the Missions, and the matter was to be considered closed.

The drawing up of this statement lay with Mr. Griffin, the former printer of the London Mission, the Secretary of Native Affairs. He prepared a statement in the Samoan language to the effect that the London Mission "regretted" what had occurred, and the Catholics "repented" of it. He sent the draft statement to the office of the Samoa Times for printing.

There was an elderly three-quarter-caste interpreter attached to the Native Department, who used to change his religion not infrequently. He chanced at the time to be a Catholic. He went to the Catholic Mission and disclosed the text of Mr. Griffin's translation. The Roman Catholic bishop immediately rang up the Administrator on the phone and told him that his abstention could no longer stand, and that the matter would have after all to go to court. The bishop was urged to reconsider his decision, that the mistake was unintentional and of no consequence, and that the statement had already been printed and was on the point of being put out. The bishop, however, was adamant; and finally all copies of the existing statement were destroyed, and a new one prepared, printed, and distributed. This apparently ended the matter. The leopard, it will be seen, in the shape of the London Mission, had not changed its spots.