TONGA--_Continued_.
WAR AND CEREMONIES.
NATURAL MILDNESS OF THE TONGANS -- BOASTING DISCOURAGED -- WAR
APPARENTLY LEARNED FROM THE FIJIANS -- FINOW’S SPEECH TO HIS
SOLDIERS, AND A NEW DISCIPLINE -- FATE OF THE VANQUISHED -- THE
DROWNED CHIEFS -- CEREMONIES -- KAVA-DRINKING -- STRICT CODE OF
ETIQUETTE -- PREPARATION OF THE KAVA -- A GRACEFUL PERFORMANCE --
DISTRIBUTION OF THE KAVA -- POINTS OF CEREMONY -- A TONGAN PLANTATION
-- SETTING THE YAMS -- CEREMONY OF INACHI -- THE POLE BEARERS AND
THEIR BURDEN -- THE YAM PILLARS -- LIFTING THE PIGS -- DISTRIBUTION
OF PROVISIONS, AND CONCLUSION OF THE CEREMONY -- TOW-TOW, AND ITS
OBJECT -- PRESENTATION OF THE OFFERING -- A GRAND SCRAMBLE -- BOXING
AND WRESTLING MATCHES -- GOOD-HUMORED COMBATANTS -- FIGHTS WITH CLUBS
-- THE SAMOAN AND TONGAN RULES.
By nature the Tongans are gentle and kind-hearted, and present a most
curious mixture of mildness and courage. To judge by many traits of
character, they might be stigmatized as effeminate, while by others
they are shown to possess real courage, not merely the dashing and
boastful bravery which is, when analyzed, merely bravado, and which
is only maintained by the hope of gaining applause. The Tongan never
boasts of his own courage, nor applauds that of another. When he has
performed a deed of arms which would set a Fijian boasting for the rest
of his life, he retires quietly into the background and says nothing
about it. His king or chief may acknowledge it if they like, but he
will be silent on the subject, and never refer to it.
For the same reason, he will not openly applaud a deed of arms done by
one of his fellows. He will regard the man with great respect, and show
by his demeanor the honor in which he holds him, but he will not speak
openly on the subject. Mariner relates an instance in which a young
warrior named Hali Api Api, who seems to have been the very model of
a gentleman, performed a notable deed of arms, equally remarkable for
courage and high-minded generosity. During a council, the king called
him out, and publicly thanked him for his conduct. The man blushed
deeply, as if ashamed at this public recognition of his services,
saluted the king, and retired to his place without saying a word.
Neither did he afterward refer either to his exploit or to the public
recognition of it.
One warrior actually declared that he would go up to a loaded cannon
and throw his spear into it. He fulfilled his promise to the letter.
He ran up within ten or twelve yards of the gun, and, as the match was
applied, threw himself on the ground, so that the shot passed over
him. He then sprang up, and, in spite of the enemy’s weapons, hurled
his spear at the cannon, and struck it in the muzzle. Having performed
this feat, he quietly retired, and was never heard to refer to so
distinguished an act of courage, though he was greatly respected for it
by his countrymen.
We need not wonder that such men should establish a moral influence
over the boastful but not warlike Fijians, and that the small colony
established in the Fiji group should virtually be its masters. Two
hundred years ago, the Tongan appears to have been ignorant of weapons
and warfare, and to have borrowed his first knowledge of both from
Fiji. Consequently, the Tongan weapons are practically those of Fiji,
modified somewhat according to the taste of the makers but evidently
derived from the same source. Captain Cook, who visited the islands
in 1777, remarks that the few clubs and spears which he saw among the
Tongans were of Fiji manufacture, or at least made after the Fiji
pattern. Yet by a sort of poetical justice, the Tongan has turned the
Fijian’s weapons against himself, and, by his superior intellect and
adventurous courage, has overcome the ferocious people of whom he was
formerly in dread.
Since the introduction of fire-arms, the superiority of the Tongans has
made itself even more manifest, the Fijians having no idea of fighting
against men who did not run away when fired at, but rushed on in spite
of the weapons opposed to them.
It is possible that the Tongans may have learned this mode of fighting
from Mariner and his companions. When the king Finow was about to make
war upon a neighboring island, he assembled the warriors and made them
an address, telling them that the system of warfare which had been
previously employed was a false one. He told them no longer to advance
or retreat according as they met with success or repulse, but to press
forward at all risks; and, even if a man saw the point of a spear at
his breast, he was not to flinch like a coward, but to press forward,
and at risk of his own life to kill his foe. He also instructed them in
the art of receiving the onset of the enemy with calmness, instead of
indulging in cries and gesticulations, telling them to seat themselves
on the ground as the enemy approached, as if perfectly unconcerned, and
not to stir until ordered, even if they threw spears or shot arrows.
But as soon as they got the word to advance they were to leap to
their feet, and charge without regard to consequences. The reader may
remember that this is exactly the strategy which was employed in Africa
by the great Kaffir chief Tchaka.
It may easily be imagined how such a course of conduct would
disconcert their opponents, and the Fijians in particular, with whom
boasting and challenging took the place of valor. Emboldened by the
apparent weakness of the enemy, they would come on in great glee,
expecting to make an easy conquest, and then, just when they raised
the shout of victory, they found themselves suddenly attacked with a
disciplined fury which they had never been accustomed to meet, and were
consequently dispersed and almost annihilated before they could well
realize their position.
Though tolerably mild toward their captives, the Tongans sometimes
display an unexpected ferocity. On one occasion, some of Finow’s men
surprised and captured four of the enemy, whom they imagined to belong
to a party who had annoyed them greatly by hanging on their track and
cutting off the stragglers.
At first they wished to take the prisoners home and make an example of
them, but the chief of the party suggested that they would have all the
trouble of guarding them, and proposed to decapitate them, and take
their heads home. One of them objected to the proposal on the ground
that they had no knives, but another man, fertile in expedients, picked
up some oyster-shells that were lying about, and suggested that they
would answer the purpose.
It was in vain that the victims protested their innocence, and begged
that at least they might be clubbed before their heads were cut off.
The conquerors coolly took off their dresses to prevent them being
stained with blood, and deliberately sawed off the heads of the
captives with their oyster-shells; beginning at the back of the neck,
and working their way gradually round. The reason for this course of
action seemed to be twofold--first, that they thought they might spoil
the heads by the club; and secondly, that as the heads must be cut off
at all events, clubbing the captives beforehand was taking needless
trouble.
Indeed, the character of the Tongan presents a curious mixture of
mildness and cruelty, the latter being probably as much due to
thoughtlessness as to ferocity. Once when eighteen rebels had been
captured, Finow ordered them to be drowned. This punishment is
inflicted by taking the prisoners out to sea, bound hand and foot,
and towing some worthless canoes. When they are far enough from land,
the culprits are transferred to the canoes, which are then scuttled,
and left to sink. Care is taken that the holes made in the canoes are
small, so that they shall be as long as possible in sinking.
On that occasion twelve of the prisoners begged to be clubbed instead
of drowned, and their request was granted. The young men divided the
prisoners among themselves, being anxious to take a lesson in clubbing
a human being, which would serve them when they came to make use of the
club against an enemy. The twelve were, accordingly, despatched with
the club, but the others, being tried warriors, scorned to ask a favor,
and were drowned. The leading chief among them employed the short time
which was left him in uttering maledictions against Finow and his
chiefs, and even when the water came up to his mouth, he threw back his
head for the purpose of uttering another curse.
* * * * *
We will now pass to a more pleasant subject, namely, the various
ceremonies in which the Tongan delights. Chief among these is the
drinking of kava, which forms an important part of every public
religious rite, and is often practised in private. Kava drinking is
known throughout the greater part of Polynesia; but as the best and
fullest account of it has been obtained from Mariner’s residence in
Tonga, a description of it has been reserved for the present occasion.
It must first be premised that the kava is made from the root of a
tree belonging to the pepper tribe, and known by the name of _Piper
methysticum_, _i. e._ the intoxicating pepper-tree. Disgusting as the
preparation of the kava may be to Europeans, it is held in such high
estimation by the Polynesians that it is never made or drunk without a
complicated ceremony, which is the same whether the party be a large or
a small one.
The people being assembled, the man of highest rank takes his place
under the eaves of the house, sitting with his back to the house
and his face toward the _marly_, or open space in front, and having
a Mataboole on either side of him. Next to these Matabooles, who
undertake the arrangement of the festival, sit the nobles or chiefs of
highest rank, and next to them the lower chiefs, and so forth. They are
not, however, very particular about the precise order in which they
sit, distinctions of rank being marked by the order in which they are
served.
This is the business of the presiding Matabooles, and as the
distinctions of rank are most tenaciously observed, it is evident that
the duties of a Mataboole are of a most difficult nature, and can only
be learned by long and constant practice. If the men sat according to
their rank, nothing would be easier than the task of serving them in
order. But it often happens that a man of high rank happens to come
late, and, as he is too polite to disturb those of lower rank who have
already taken their places, he sits below them, knowing that his rank
will be recognized at the proper time.
It mostly happens, however, that when one of the presiding Matabooles
sees a man occupying a place much below that to which his rank entitles
him, he makes some one surrender his place to him, or even turns out
altogether a man who is seated in a high place, and puts the chief into
it. The people thus gradually extend themselves into a ring, sometimes
single, but often several ranks deep when the party is a large one,
every one of the members being a man of some recognized rank. Behind
those who form the bottom of the ring opposite the presiding chief,
sit the general public, who may be several thousand in number. It is
a remarkable fact, illustrating the rigid code of etiquette which
prevails among the Tongans, that no one can sit in the inner ring if
a superior relative be also in it; and, no matter how high may be his
rank, he must leave his place, and sit in the outer circle, if his
father or any superior relative enters the inner ring.
This ring, which constitutes the essential kava party, is formed mostly
of the sons of chiefs and Matabooles, and it often happens that their
fathers, even if they be chiefs of the highest rank, will sit in the
outer ring, rather than disturb its arrangements. Even the son of the
king often adopts this plan, and assists in preparing the kava like any
of the other young men.
Exactly opposite to the king is placed the kava bowl, and behind it
sits the man who is to prepare the drink. On either side of him sits an
assistant, one of whom carries a fan wherewith to drive away the flies,
and another takes charge of the water, which is kept in cocoa-nut
shells. The rank of the preparer is of no consequence. Sometimes he is
a Mooa or gentleman, and sometimes a mere cook; but, whoever he may be,
he is known to be able to perform his difficult task with sufficient
strength and elegance.
All being ready, one of the presiding Matabooles sends for the kava
root, which is then scraped quite clean and cut up into small pieces.
These are handed to the young men or even to the young women present,
who masticate the root, contriving in some ingenious way to keep it
quite dry during the process. It is then wrapped in a leaf, and passed
to the preparer, who places it in the bowl, carefully lining the
interior with the balls of chewed root, so that the exact quantity can
be seen.
When all the kava has been chewed and deposited, the preparer tilts
the bowl toward the presiding chief, who consults with his Matabooles,
and if he thinks there is not enough, orders the bowl to be covered
over, and sends for more kava, which is treated as before. Should
he be satisfied, the preparer kneads all the kava together, and the
Mataboole then calls for water, which is poured into the bowl until he
orders the man to stop. Next comes the order to put in the _fow_. This
is a bundle of very narrow strips of bark of a tree belonging to the
genus _hibiscus_, and it has been compared to the willow shavings that
are used in England to decorate fire-places in the summer time. The
assistant takes a quantity of this material, and lays it on the water,
spreading it carefully, so that it lies equally on the surface of the
liquid. Now begins the important part of the proceeding which tests the
power of the preparer.
“In the first place, he extends his left hand to the farther side
of the bowl, with his fingers pointing downward and the palm toward
himself; he sinks that hand carefully down the side of the bowl,
carrying with it the edge of the _fow_; at the same time his right hand
is performing a similar operation at the side next to him, the fingers
pointing downward and the palm presenting outward. He does this slowly
from side to side, gradually descending deeper and deeper till his
fingers meet each other at the bottom, so that nearly the whole of the
fibres of the root are by these means enclosed in the _fow_, forming as
it were a roll of above two feet in length lying along the bottom from
side to side, the edges of the _fow_ meeting each other underneath.
[Illustration: THE KAVA PARTY. (See page 989.)]
“He now carefully rolls it over, so that the edges overlapping each
other, or rather intermingling, come uppermost. He next doubles in the
two ends and rolls it carefully over again, endeavoring to reduce it to
a narrower and firmer compass. He now brings it cautiously out of the
fluid, taking firm hold of it by the two ends, one in each hand (the
back of his hands being upward), and raising it breast high with his
arms considerably extended, he brings his right hand toward his breast,
moving it gradually onward; and whilst his left hand is coming round
toward his right shoulder, his right hand partially twisting the _fow_,
lays the end which it holds upon the left elbow, so that the _fow_ lies
thus extended upon that arm, one end being still grasped by the left
hand.
“The right hand being at liberty is brought under the left fore-arm
(which still remains in the same situation), and carried outwardly
toward the left elbow, that it may again seize in that situation the
end of the _fow_. The right hand then describes a bold curve outwardly
from the chest, whilst the left comes across the chest, describing a
curve nearer to him and in the opposite direction, till at length the
left hand is extended from him and the right hand approaches to the
left shoulder, gradually twisting the _fow_ by the turn and flexures
principally of that wrist: this double motion is then retraced, but
in such a way (the left wrist now principally acting) that the _fow_,
instead of being untwisted, is still more twisted, and is at length
again placed on the left arm, while he takes a new and less constrained
hold.
“Thus the hands and arms perform a variety of curves of the most
graceful description: the muscles both of the arms and chest are seen
rising as they are called into action, displaying what would be a fine
and uncommon subject of study for the painter: for no combinations of
animal action can develop the swell and play of the muscles with more
grace and better effect.
“The degree of strength which he exerts when there is a large quantity
is very great, and the dexterity with which he accomplishes the whole
never fails to excite the attention and admiration of all present.
Every tongue is mute, and every eye is upon him, watching each motion
of his arms as they describe the various curvilinear lines essential
to the success of the operation. Sometimes the fibres of the _fow_ are
heard to crack with the increasing tension, yet the mass is seen whole
and entire, becoming more thin as it becomes more twisted, while the
infusion drains from it in a regularly decreasing quantity till at
length it denies a single drop.”
The illustration on the preceding page represents this portion of the
ceremony. On the right hand is seen the presiding chief seated under
the eaves of the house, with a Mataboole on either side of him, and
just beyond him extends a portion of the inner ring. In front of the
chief sits the performer, who is wringing out the kava, and is just
about to change the grasp of his right hand, according to Mariner’s
description. On either side sit his assistants, both of whom are
engaged in fanning away the flies.
Near them lie the cocoa-nut shells from which the water has been
poured. Beyond the inner ring are seen the outer rings and the general
population, who have come to witness the ceremony and get their chance
of a stray cup of kava or some food.
When the _fow_ ceases to give out any more fluid, a second and third
are used in the same manner, so that not a particle of the root remains
in the liquid. Should more _fow_ or water be wanted, an order is given,
and twenty or thirty men rush off for it, going and returning at full
speed, as if running for their lives; and anything else that may be
wanted is fetched in the same manner.
While the operator is going through his task, those who are in the
outer circle and cannot properly see him occupy themselves in making
cups from which the kava can be drunk. These cups are made of the
unexpanded leaves of the banana tree, cut up into squares of about nine
inches across. The cups are made in a most ingenious manner by plaiting
up the two ends and tying them with a fibre drawn from the stem of the
leaf. The Mataboole then orders provisions to be served out, which is
done in an orderly manner. To the general assembly this is the most
interesting part of the ceremony, for they have but little chance of
getting any kava, and it is very likely that they will have a share of
food, as the regular kava drinkers never eat more than a morsel or two
at these entertainments.
The operator having done his part, now comes the test of the
Mataboole’s efficiency. The kava is to be distributed in precisely
the proper order, a slip in this respect being sure to give deep
offence. Should a visitor of rank be present, he gets the first cup,
the presiding Mataboole the second, and the presiding chief the third.
If, however, the kava be given by one of the guests, the donor always
has the first cup, unless there should be a visitor of superior rank to
himself, in which case the donor is ignored altogether, only having the
kava according to his rank. No person is allowed to have two cups from
the same bowl, but after all the inner circle and their relatives are
served, the remainder is given out to the people as far as it will go,
and a second bowl is prepared. It will be seen that, if the preparer be
a man of low rank, he stands a chance of never tasting the liquid which
he has so skilfully prepared.
The second bowl is prepared in precisely the same way as the first,
except that the second presiding Mataboole gives the orders; and, if a
third or fourth bowl be ordered, they take the direction alternately.
When the second bowl is prepared, the cups are filled and handed round
in exactly the same order as before, so that those of high rank get
three or four cups, and those of lower rank only one, or perhaps none
at all.
It is a point of etiquette that no chief ever visits the kava party
of an inferior chief, as in that case the latter would be obliged
to retire from the presidency and sit in the outer ring. When the
Tooi-tonga presides, no one presumes to sit within six feet of him; and
if perchance an inspired priest be present, he takes the presidency,
and the greatest chief, or even the king himself, is obliged to retire
into the outer ring on such occasions. A priest always presides at
religious ceremonies, and the kava party is held in front of the temple
dedicated to the particular god which they are about to consult. But in
some cases a god has no priest, and in those cases he is supposed to
preside in person, though invisibly, the president’s place being left
vacant for him.
The reader will see from the foregoing account that kava is a luxury
practically confined to the higher classes. The great chiefs and
Matabooles drink it every day, either as presidents or members of the
inner ring. Those of lower rank obtain it occasionally; while the Tooas
seldom taste this luxury, except by taking the kava after it has been
wrung by the operator, and preparing it afresh.
As the reader will see, it is impossible to separate the secular and
religious life of the Tongans. They are inextricably woven together,
and therefore must be described together. There are a vast number
of ceremonies in which these two elements are united, one or two of
which will be described, by way of sample of the rest. The first is
the festival of Ináchi, a feast of firstfruits, a ceremony which in
principle is found throughout the whole earth, though the details
necessarily differ. In the present case, the offering is made to the
Tooi-tonga, as being at once the descendant and representative of the
gods.
About the latter end of July the ordinary yams are planted in the
ground; but those which are intended for the feast of Ináchi are of
a different kind, coming to maturity earlier, and are planted about
a month sooner. In an illustration on the next page we may see how
the yams are set in the ground, and may get a good idea of a Tongan
plantation. In the centre of the foreground is the chief to whom the
plantation belongs, accompanied by his little boy. As is usual with
men of rank in Tonga, he bears in his hand a short, many-barbed spear,
which may either be used as a walking staff or as a weapon. The former
is its normal use, but the chiefs sometimes find the advantage of
having with them a serviceable weapon. The point of the spear is
frequently armed with the barbed tail-bone of the sting-ray. When Finow
captured by craft the rebel chief whose death by drowning has already
been described, his chief difficulty was the bone-tipped spear which
the chief always carried with him, and of which he was temporarily
deprived by a stratagem.
One of his laborers is talking to him, having in his hand the hoe
with which he has been making holes in the ground for the reception
of the yams. Behind him are more laborers, employed in cutting the
yams in pieces, and planting them in the holes. Just beyond the yam
plantation is a piece of ground stocked with sugar-canes; and beyond
the sugar-canes is the house of the chief, known by the superiority of
its architecture. The house is built near the sea-shore, and close to
the beach a canoe is seen hauled up on its support.
The greater part of the illustration is occupied with the ingenious
spiked fence within which the storehouses and dwellings for the Tooas,
or peasants, are placed. As may be seen, it has no doors, but at
intervals the fence is only half the usual height and without spikes,
and is crossed by means of stiles, two of which are given in the
illustration, one to show the exterior and the other the interior of
the fence. Close to the further stile is a young tree, surrounded with
a fencing to the height of several feet, in order to guard it, while
growing, from the attacks of pigs and children.
The open shed is one of the peasants’ houses, under which are seated
a number of women, employed in making mats; while some children are
playing and fowls feeding by them. Toward the further end of the
enclosure is shown one of the storehouses.
As soon as the yams are ripe, the king sends a message to the
Tooi-tonga, asking him to fix a day for the ceremony, which is
generally settled to be on the tenth day after the request is made, so
that time may be given for notice to be sent to all the islands. The
day before the ceremony of Ináchi, the yams are dug up and ornamented
with scarlet streamers made of the inner membrane of the pandanus leaf.
These are in long and narrow strips, and are woven spirally over the
yams, first in one direction and then the other, so as to produce a
neat checkered pattern, and having the ends hanging loose.
All through the night is heard the sound of the conch shell, and
until midnight the men and women answered each other in a song, the
men singing, “Rest, doing no work,” and the women responding, “Thou
shalt not work.” About midnight the song ceases; but it is resumed
at daybreak, and continues until about eight A. M., accompanied with
plenty of conch blowing. The prohibition of work is so imperative, that
the people are not even allowed to leave their houses, except for the
purpose of assisting in the ceremony.
[Illustration: (1.) TONGAN PLANTATION. (See page 990.)]
[Illustration: (2.) CEREMONY OF INACHI. (See page 993.)]
At eight A. M. the ceremony of Ináchi really begins, the people
crowding from different parts of the Tooi-tonga’s island toward the
capital town, and canoes approaching in all directions from other
islands. All are in their very best, with new clothes and ribbons;
while the men carry their most beautiful spears and clubs. Each party
carries the yams in baskets, which are taken to the _marly_, or large
central space of the village, and there laid down with great ceremony.
In the marly are ready laid a number of poles, eight or nine feet in
length, and four inches in diameter, and upon them the men sling the
yams, only one yam being hung to the middle of each pole.
Meanwhile the great chiefs and Matabooles have gone to the grave of
the last Tooi-tonga, should it happen to be on the island, or, should
he have been buried on another island, the grave of any of his family
answers the purpose. They sit there in a semicircle before the grave,
their heads bowed and their hands clasped, waiting for the procession,
which presently arrives.
First come two boys blowing conch shells, and advancing with a slow
and solemn step; and behind them come a vast number of men with the
yams. Each pole is carried by two men, one at each end, and, as they
walk, they sink at every step, as if overcome with the weight of their
burden. This is to signify that the yams are of such a size that the
bearers can hardly carry them, and is a sort of symbolized thanksgiving
to the gods for so fine a prospect of harvest. As the men come to the
grave, they lay the poles and yams on it, and seat themselves in order
before the grave, so that they form a line between the chiefs and the
yams.
This part of the ceremony is shown in the lower illustration, on the
991st page. In the foreground are seated the chiefs and Matabooles,
with their clubs and spears, while the procession of pole bearers is
seen winding along from the far distance. Two of them have already
laid their yams and poles before the grave, and have seated themselves
between the grave and the circle of chiefs, while others are just
depositing their burdens on the same sacred spot. Standing by them are
the two boys who headed the procession, still blowing busily at their
conch-shell trumpets. In the distance, and on the left hand of the
illustration, may be seen the people seated in numbers on the ground.
One of the Tooi-tonga’s Matabooles then sits between the pole bearers
and the grave and makes an oration, in which he gives thanks to the
gods for their bounty, and asks for a continuance of it to their
offspring, the Tooi-tonga. He then retires to his former place, the men
take up their poles, and after marching several times round the grave,
they return to the marly and again deposit their loads, this time
untying the yams from the poles, but leaving the colored streamers upon
them.
Here the whole of the people seat themselves in a large circle, at
which the Tooi-tonga presides, even the king himself retiring, and
sitting in the back ranks. Next the remainder of the offerings are
brought forward, consisting of mats, gnatoo, dried fish, and various
kinds of food. These are divided by one of the Tooi-tonga’s Matabooles
into four equal parts. One of these goes to the gods, and is at once
taken away by the servants of the different priests, and the remainder
is shared by the Tooi-tonga and the king, the latter, although of
inferior rank, getting the larger portion, because he has four times
as many dependents to feed. The proceedings are wound up with the
kava drinking, which always accompanies such ceremonies. While the
infusion is being prepared, the presiding Mataboole makes a speech to
the people, explaining the right that has just been concluded, and
advising them to pay due honor to the gods and their representative the
Tooi-tonga.
* * * * *
When this great potentate dies, there is a most extravagant feast,
which often reduces the people to a state of semi-starvation for a
long time, and sometimes threatens an actual famine. In such a case,
the tapu is laid upon hogs, cocoa-nuts, and fowls for seven or eight
months, or even longer, during which time none but the great chiefs are
allowed to touch them. Two or three plantations are always exempted,
so that there may be a supply for the great chiefs and for the various
religious ceremonies. At the expiration of the stated period, if
the crops look well, and the pigs and fowls have increased in due
proportion, the tapu is taken off with very great ceremony.
One of these ceremonies was seen by Mariner at the Hapai Islands, and
a very strange rite it turned out to be. It was held on two marlies,
one belonging to the Tooi-tonga and the other to the king. As if to
compensate for the limited diet of the previous month, food was piled
in abundance. On the Tooi-tonga’s marly were erected four square hollow
pillars, about four feet in diameter, and made of four poles connected
with matting. These were about fifty or sixty feet in height, and each
of them was crowned with a baked hog.
The king’s marly, which was about a quarter of a mile from the other,
was equally well supplied with food, only in this case the yams were
placed in wooden cars or sledges, and nearly four hundred half-baked
hogs were laid on the ground. The king having arrived, and the signal
given for beginning the proceedings, the young chiefs and warriors
tried successively to lift the largest hog, and at last, when all had
failed, it was lifted by two men and taken to the other marly. “In the
meantime the trial was going on with the second hog, which, being also
found too heavy for one man, was carried away by two in like manner,
and so on with the third, fourth, &c., the largest being carried away
first, and the least last.
“The second, third, fourth, &c., afforded more sport than the others,
as being a nearer counterbalance with a man’s strength. Sometimes he
had got it neatly upon his shoulder, when his greasy burden slipped
through his arms, and, in his endeavor to save it, brought him down
after it. It is an honor to attempt these things, and even the king
sometimes puts his hand to it.”
The next part of the proceedings was the carrying twenty of the largest
hogs to the late Tooi-tonga’s grave, and leaving them there, while the
rest, together with the other provisions, were shared among the chiefs,
who in their turn distributed them to their followers, until every man
in the island gets a piece of pork and yam. The four great columns of
yams were given, one to the king, another to the Tooi-tonga, the third
to the Veachi and one or two of the very great chiefs, and the fourth
to the gods. The Tooi-tonga also took the cars of yams as a matter
of tacit though unacknowledged right. Kava drinking, dancing, and
wrestling concluded the ceremony; and as soon as the circle broke up,
the tapu was considered as annulled.
The twenty large hogs which were laid on the grave were left there
for several days; but as soon as they showed signs of putridity, they
were cut up, and divided among all who chose to apply for a share of
the meat. By right they belonged to the chiefs, but as they were able
to procure fresh pork for themselves, they preferred to forego their
right, and divide the tainted meat among the people.
The ceremony of Mo’ee-mo’ee, or taking off the tapu contracted by
touching a chief, has already been mentioned. The tapu is even
contracted by eating in the presence of a superior relation; but
there is a conventional way of getting rid of this tapu by simply
turning the back upon the superior, who is then considered as not
being ceremonially in the presence of the inferior. Should a man think
that he may have contracted the tapu unwittingly, he will not dare
to feed himself until he has gone to some chief, whose foot he takes
and presses it against his stomach. This rite is called the _Fota_,
or pressing. Any chief can take away the tapu contracted by touching
an equal or inferior, but has no power over that of a superior.
Consequently, no one but himself can take away the Tooi-tonga’s
tapu; and this proved so inconvenient that whenever the potentate
went from his house, he left behind him a consecrated bowl as his
representative, and this was held to be equally powerful in removing
the tapu. The Veachi adopted a similar plan. It is a remarkable fact
that kava is exempt from all tapu, so that if even the Tooi-tonga has
touched a piece of kava root, the lowest cook may chew it.
* * * * *
There is a ceremony which in principle somewhat resembles that of
Ináchi, though it is conducted after a very different manner. Just
as the Ináchi is an offering to the gods in general through the
Tooi-tonga, so is this ceremony, which is called the Tow-tow, a special
thanksgiving to Alo-Alo, the god of weather. It is begun in the early
part of November, when the yams are ripe, and is continued for some
three months, at intervals of eight or ten days.
All the islands of Tonga are divided into three distinct portions,
namely, the northern division, or _Hahagi_, the southern division,
or _Hihifo_, and the middle division, or _Mooa_. Each of these
divisions has orders to prepare a certain amount of food, such as yams,
cocoa-nuts, and the like, and to bring them to the marly. The correct
mode of doing so is to bring them on sticks, so that each stick has
upon it seven or eight yams, or a bunch of plantains, or a quantity of
bananas. If sugar-canes form part of the offering, they are tied in
bundles of three or four in each: and all the offerings, no matter what
they may be, are piled up in three great heaps, one being erected by
the people of each district.
This being done, and a few preliminary matches of boxing and wrestling
played, after about three hours a small procession appears, composed
of eight or ten men sent by the priest of Alo-Alo, and accompanied by
a young girl about eight or nine years old, who represents the god’s
wife. She is always the daughter of a chief, and generally of one of
the highest chiefs, and, during the eighty days of the ceremony, she
resides at the temple of Alo-Alo. She has nothing particular to do,
except presiding at one or two feasts and kava parties.
The men are all dressed in mats, and have green leaves tied round
their necks. This is the dress of humility and sorrow, and is employed
in times of mourning for the dead and supplication for mercy. When
they have arrived, they seat themselves in a line, having in front
of them a great drum, which is kept for this special purpose. They
then offer their prayers to Alo-Alo, begging for propitious weather
and good crops, and after these prayers are concluded two of the
piles of provisions are carried off by the chiefs, and the third is
set aside for the gods. Suddenly the great drum is beaten, on which
a general dash is made at the pile of food, every one scrambling for
the provisions, and getting as much as he can. There is not the least
order in the scramble, and the scene is a most exciting one, the yams
being torn from the sticks, and the sticks smashed to pieces, while
the sugar-canes are broken up into fragments. Thus the gods are fed
vicariously.
The women keep prudently out of the way during this struggle, and stand
aside to watch the chief and concluding ceremony. This is nothing more
than a general fight. The inhabitants of the island arrange themselves
in two divisions, one half fighting against the other. All engage in
this battle, the highest chiefs as well as the lowest cooks taking part
in it. There is no respect of persons, the king, or even the Tooi-tonga
himself, being assaulted without compunction, and handled as roughly as
any of the common people.
Severe as is the fighting, it is all conducted with the greatest good
humor, and no one displays a sign of ill-temper at the injury which he
receives. If a man is knocked down, he gets up with a smile; if his
arm is broken, he retires from the battle and has it set, but he never
thinks of complaining. The same system is observed in the boxing and
wrestling matches of which the Tongans are so fond.
In wrestling matches, for example, it is not thought polite for any
one man to challenge another; he ought to give a general challenge, by
striking with the right hand the bent elbow of the opposite arm. If the
challenge be accepted, the antagonists meet very leisurely, and take
care to fasten tightly the gnatoo belt that surrounds the waist. They
grasp the belt with a hand on each side, and endeavor to throw their
antagonist by lifting him from the ground and flinging him on his back.
The vanquished man rises and retires to his place among the spectators
without showing any displeasure. Only in one case did Mariner know a
man display ill-feeling at being beaten, and in that instance the man,
although a chief, was looked upon as an ill-bred fellow.
The victor seats himself on the ground for a few seconds, and then
retires to his place, his friends belonging to his own side singing,
or rather chanting, a song of victory. After a short time he again
rises and offers another challenge, and if it be accepted by several
antagonists, he may select one from them. If they find that they are
equally matched, they leave off by mutual consent; and sometimes, if a
man encounters a chief much superior to him, he will generally yield
out of respect to the other’s rank. This only takes place in single
combat, not in the general fight of the Tow-tow festival.
Boxing is conducted on similar principles of fair play. The challenger
proceeds into the middle of the ring, holding one arm stretched out in
front and the other behind, and advances sideways, changing sides at
every step. When the challenge is accepted, both combatants wrap a
piece of cord round their hands and proceed to blows, which are given
with great force and rapidity. When one is vanquished, he retires
with apparent unconcern to the ring, and sits to watch the combats of
others, knowing that to be vanquished is not considered a disgrace.
When the victor returns to his people, they welcome him, but do not
sing the chant of victory unless he has knocked his antagonist down.
Falling is on these occasions considered as equivalent to being killed
in real battle, and, in consequence, the song of victory is not sung
unless the antagonist has fallen to the ground. If a man be beaten in
wrestling, he may not wrestle a second time in the same day, though he
may box, and _vice versâ_.
In the ceremony of Tow-tow, these scrambling, boxing, and wrestling
matches are carried on every tenth day, and are repeated eight times,
so as to make up the eighty days of the festival. After each battle,
those who have touched a superior chief come to be relieved of the tapu
which they have contracted by touching him. Even the Tooi-tonga, whose
nose has been flattened, his teeth knocked out, and his face pounded to
a jelly by a mere peasant, over whom he has supreme command of life and
death, performs the needful ceremony with perfect good humor.
The illustration No. 1, on the 999th page, represents the concluding
scene of this ceremony. In the foreground are seen the two contending
parties, one of which is beginning to get the victory over the other.
In the centre of the illustration, and on the left, are the fragments
of the food-piles, with a few men still scrambling for them, and in the
distance the women are seated under the trees, watching the progress of
the fight.
Fighting is not confined to the men, but is practised also by the
women, who on this occasion lay aside the ordinary gentleness and
mildness for which they are remarkable. When Captain Cook visited
Tonga, he was much surprised to see the girls step into the ring and
box with as much spirit and determination as had been shown by the men.
They do not, however, carry the combat to such extremes, and if one of
them does not speedily yield, the combatants are parted by the elder
women. Even the merest children box after a similar fashion, the little
girls knocking each other about with hearty good-will as long as they
are allowed to fight.
On one occasion, Finow ordered that all the women who were seated as
spectators should engage in a general fight, after the manner of the
men. They seemed nothing loth, and all the women who lived on the
north of the island fought against those who lived on the south side.
Nearly fifteen hundred women engaged on each side, and fought with the
greatest courage for more than an hour, both parties contending with
such determination that neither could gain a foot of ground; and at
last Finow ordered them to desist, seeing that several ankles had been
sprained and limbs broken.
Besides boxing and wrestling matches, the Tongans have club fights on
great occasions. As with the other matches, the combatants are divided
into two parties, one being seated opposite to the other, with a
considerable space of ground between them.
When all is ready, a man jumps up, runs to the people of the opposite
side, and sits down in front of them, asking if any of them will fight
him. As in the boxing and wrestling matches, to challenge a particular
opponent is bad manners. If the challenge be accepted, the combatants
walk to the middle of the ring, each attended by his second, and then
settle whether they shall fight after the Tongan or Samoan manner.
The former mode does not allow a man to strike an antagonist after he
is knocked down, but only to flourish his club over him in token of
victory. By the latter mode he is allowed to beat the fallen man as
long as he shows signs of life. When the fight is over, the men on
the side of the victor chant their song of triumph, and the conqueror
advances to the king, sits down before him in token of respect, and
then rises and returns to his own party. On one of these occasions, the
young prince fought no less than fourteen battles, and was victorious
in every one of them.