As old as the gods was the society of the Arioi, said the Tahitians.  Oro, the chief god, took a human wife, and descended on a rainbow to her home.  He spent his nights with her, and every morning returned to the heavens.  Two of his younger brothers searched for him, and lacking wedding presents, one transformed himself into a pig and a bunch of red feathers.  The other presented these, and though they remained with the wedded pair, the brother took back his own form.  Oro, to reward them, made them gods and Arioi.  Ever after a pig and red feathers were offerings to the idol of Oro by the Arioi.  The brothers formed the society and named the charter members of it in different islands, and by these names those holding their offices were known until they were abolished.

When called together by their chief, the members of the order made a round of visits throughout the archipelago, in as many as seventy great canoes, carrying with them their costumes and musical instruments and their servants.  They were usually welcomed enthusiastically at their landing, and pigs, fruits, and kava prepared for their delectation.  They were gorgeous-looking performers in their pantomimes, for besides tattooing, which marked their rank, they were decorated with charcoal and the scarlet dye mati, and wore girdles of yellow ti-leaves, or vests of ripe, golden plantain-leaves.  Their heads were wreathed in the yellow and red leaves of the hutu, and perhaps behind an ear they wore a flower of brilliant hue.

They had seven ranks, like the chairs of a secret order in Europe or in the United States nowadays.  The first, the highest, was the Avae parai, painted leg.  The Arioi of this class was tattooed solidly from the knees down.  The second, Otiore, had both arms tattooed; the third, Harotea, both sides of the body; the fourth, Hua, marked shoulders; the fifth, Atoro, a small stripe on the left side; the sixth, Ohemara, a small circle around each ankle, and the seventh, Poo, were uninked.  They were the neophytes, and had to do the heavy work of the order, though servants, not members, termed fauaunau, were part of the corps.  These were sworn not to have any offspring.

The Arioi kept the records of the Tahitian nation.  In their plays they reenacted all the chief events in the history of the race, and as there was no written account, these dramas were, with the legends and stories they recited, the perpetuation of their archives and chronicles.  They were apt in travesty and satire.  They ridiculed the priests and current events, and by their wit made half the people love them and half fear them.  A manager directed all their performances.  They aimed at perfect rhythm in their chants and dances, and grace and often sheer fun in their pantomimes.  Some were wrestlers, but boxing they left for others.  As with the Marquesans to-day, they had a fugleman, or leader, in all songs, who introduced the subject in a prologue, and occasionally gave the cue to a change.