The Tabu spread its influence over every occurrence of life. It was political or religious, general or individual, of limited duration or perpetual. Sometimes it proceeded from the whim of a chieftain, or the caprice of a priest; sometimes it appeared as a measure of general utility, and then again as a protection for individual property; sometimes it extended over a whole people, and in other cases was limited to a single individual. Its yoke lay particularly heavy on the women, whom it deprived of many enjoyments, and subjected to many irksome restrictions. But, though frequently tyrannical and oppressive, it often performed the salutary part of our laws and police regulations, with this difference, however, in its favour: that whereas many of us are, more or less, inclined to infringe the law, no Polynesian would have ventured to disobey the Tabu, being perfectly convinced that this crime would immediately entail upon him the signal vengeance of his gods. Every chieftain had the right to subject his inferiors to a Tabu, and was in a like manner obliged to submit to the interdictions pronounced by his superior. If by some chance he had infringed a Tabu, he could only be exonerated by a chieftain of higher rank. Thus the Tabu placed an enormous power in the hands of the privileged castes, and secured by the chains of superstition the eternal slavery of the people. As among the ancient Greeks an invisible world of gods ruled over the visible phenomena of nature, thus also the fertile fancy of the Polynesians peopled earth and heaven, the ocean and the mountains with a mighty host of spirits. They recognized their presence in the rising sun, the mild moonlight, the howling storm, the roaring breaker, and the soft evening breeze. The peak of the mountain, the fleecy vapours hanging on its side, the foaming waterfall, and above all the volcano and the earthquake, were all palpable objects, connected with a presiding divinity. Most of these gods were vindictive, proud, irascible beings, ever ready to do mischief in a material or immaterial form; and even the spirits of deceased relations were feared as malignant demons. Thus, here as elsewhere, superstition added its fantastical terrors to the real evils of existence. The Polynesian Pantheon, a strange mixture of poetry and absurdity, was as richly peopled as that of the ancient Greeks or Scandinavians. Tangaloa was the creator of their little world, which, according to the Tonga account, he fished up from the sea. Tahiti was the first part that appeared. Just as its rock showed above water, the line broke. However, the rock in which the hook stuck could still be seen on the island of Hoonga, and the family of Tuitonga were in possession of the hook. In Tahiti and Samoa the workman was the same, but the work different. The Tahitian Tangaloa formed the ocean from the sweat of his brow--so hard did he work in making the land.