TONGA--_Concluded_.
SICKNESS--BURIAL--GAMES.
SACRIFICE OF THE FINGER, AND MODE OF OPERATING -- SACRIFICE OF
CHILDREN -- CONSULTING THE GODS -- MODES OF INSPIRATION -- SACRIFICE
OF WIVES -- FINOW’S GOOD SENSE -- SUPPOSED CAUSES OF DEATH --
FINOW’S FUNERAL -- CUTTING THE HEAD -- OPENING AND CLOSING THE VAULT
-- DRESSING THE GRAVE -- APPOINTMENT OF A SUCCESSOR -- CONCLUDING
CEREMONIES -- IDEAS OF RELIGION -- VARIOUS SPORTS AND GAMES -- RAT
SHOOTING AND BIRD CATCHING -- FINOW AND THE DECOY BIRD -- BALL PLAY
-- A DANGEROUS STAKE, AND HONORABLE PAYMENT -- THE LOVER’S CAVE, AND
A NATIVE LEGEND.
As might be expected, various ceremonies take place with regard to
sickness and burial.
If any one is ill, the inferior relations cut off a joint of the little
finger as an offering to the gods. Sometimes a whole joint is taken
off at once, but those who have many superior relations remove only a
portion, so that they may be able to offer the sacrifice several times.
In consequence of this superstition, there is scarcely a person in
Tonga who has not lost a considerable portion of the little finger of
one or both hands.
The mode of amputating the finger is simple enough. It is laid upon a
flat block of wood, and the edge of a knife or axe, or even a sharp
stone, placed on it. A smart blow is given with a mallet, and the
stump, which bleeds but little in consequence of the nature of the
operation, is held over the smoke of fresh grass, so as to check any
after bleeding. No application is made to it, and in a week or two it
heals without trouble. The Tongans do not seem to fear this operation,
and even little children may be seen quarrelling with each other for
the honor of having it performed upon them.
Should the illness take an unfavorable turn, instead of a mere finger,
a child is offered to the gods by being strangled. For example, when
Finow fell ill of the malady from which he died, and was apparently
sinking, his eldest son took a young child of the king’s from its
mother’s lap, strangled it, and offered it to the gods at various
consecrated houses. The people look with the greatest compassion on the
poor little victim, but think that it is right to sacrifice a little
child who at present is useless to the community, and may not live to
be of service, so that they may obtain in exchange the life of a chief
who is needed by his people.
Such a sacrifice is sometimes made on other occasions, when the anger
of some god is to be averted. In Tonga there are several sacred places,
in which to spill blood is a sacrilege, so that they serve the purpose
of cities of refuge. Once a chief named Palavali was pursuing some
men, who ran for refuge to the nearest sacred spot. One of them was
just getting over the fence, when Palavali, in the heat of the moment,
struck him on the head, so that he fell dead within the enclosure. As
soon as he had done the deed he was filled with fear, and reported what
he had done to Finow, who consulted a priest. The priest, becoming
inspired, said that a child must be sacrificed to the gods, and the
chiefs, after holding a consultation, agreed that they should sacrifice
a child of one of their own number by a female attendant. Such children
are always selected, for two reasons; firstly, because the child of a
chief is held to be a worthy sacrifice, and secondly, because, as its
mother is of inferior rank, it could never live to be a chief.
The mother, knowing the custom, took alarm, and hid the child, but it
was at last found by the men who were sent to search for it. The rest
must be told in Mariner’s words. “Its poor mother wanted to follow, but
was held back by those about her. On hearing its mother’s voice it
began to cry, but when it arrived at the fatal place of execution, it
was pleased and delighted with the band of gnatoo that was put round
its neck, and, looking up in the face of the man who was about to
destroy it, displayed in its beautiful countenance a smile of ineffable
pleasure.
“Such a sight inspired pity in the heart of every one; but adoration
and fear of the gods was a sentiment superior to any other, and its
destroyer could not help exclaiming, as he put on the fatal bandage, ‘O
yaooé chi vale!’ (‘Poor little innocent!’) Two men then tightened the
cord by pulling at each end, and the guiltless and unsuspecting victim
was soon relieved of its painful struggles. The body was then placed
upon a sort of hand-barrow, supported upon the shoulders of four men,
and carried in a procession of priests, chiefs, and Matabooles clothed
in mats, with wreaths of green leaves round their necks.
“In this manner it was conveyed to various houses consecrated to
different gods, before each of which it was placed on the ground, all
the company sitting behind it, except one priest, who sat beside it,
and prayed aloud to the god that he would be pleased to accept of this
sacrifice as an atonement for the heinous sacrilege committed, and that
punishment might accordingly be withheld from the people. After this
was done before all the consecrated houses in the fortress, the body
was given up to its relations, to be buried in the usual manner.”
This particular case had a strange termination. Four or five days after
the sacrifice, Palavali went on a foraging excursion at the head of a
body of men who were not tried soldiers, and met with a smaller body of
real warriors. In a very short time Palavali’s men began to run, and
it was in vain that he tried to rally them. At last, in boldly facing
the enemy to set his men an example, he received four spears in his
body, and fell. This sight angered his men so much that they charged
the enemy, drove them back, and rescued their dying chief. They were
proceeding to draw out the spears, but he told them that it would be
useless, as the gods had doomed him for his sacrilege, and he must die.
His prognostication was correct, for he died half an hour after the
battle.
When a priest is consulted on any subject--say, on the sickness of any
one--a carefully regulated ceremony is performed. On the previous night
a hog is killed and prepared, and taken to the place where the priest
lives, together with plantains, yams, and kava root. Next day they all
go to the patient’s house, and there seat themselves in order, the
priest taking his place just within the eaves, if the appointed spot
be a house. Opposite to the priest is the kava bowl, and around him
sit the Matabooles as usual; but on this occasion the chiefs always mix
with the people, or even sit behind them, thinking that such retiring
and humble behavior is pleasing to the gods.
From the moment that all are seated, the god is supposed to take
possession of the priest, who sits silently with his hands clasped in
front of him, his head bowed, and his eyes bent on the ground. The
kava being prepared, the required questions are put to him. Sometimes
he answers them at once, but very often he remains in silence until
all the provisions are eaten and the kava drunk. When he does speak,
it is in a low, constrained voice, generally above its natural pitch,
the words being supposed to be the utterances of the god through him
without his volition. In some cases he is quite calm and quiet while
delivering his answers, but at others his face becomes inflamed, his
eyes seem ready to start from their sockets, tears pour from his eyes,
and his words issue in broken sobs and gasps.
This paroxysm lasts for some time, and then gradually subsides. As it
is passing away, he takes up a club which is placed near him for the
purpose, gazes at it attentively, and then looks round, apparently
without seeing the object at which he looks--“his eyes are open,
but their sense is shut.” Suddenly he raises the club, and dashes
it violently on the ground, at which instant the god is supposed to
leave his votary, who immediately rises and leaves the place of honor,
retiring to the back of the ring among the people. The man of highest
rank present then takes the place of honor, and more kava is served.
When a priest is consulted on behalf of a sick person, the inspiration
retains its hold as long as the patient is in his presence, and in some
cases the inspiration lasts for several days. If one priest cannot find
a cure, the patient is taken to another, and so on, until he either
recovers or dies.
The illustration No. 2, on the next page, represents a consultation
of the priest respecting a sick child. In the foreground are the
provisions and the presents brought to the priest, and in the centre
is the kava bowl. On the right is the priest, seated in a state of
inspiration, with crossed hands and bowed head, listening to the
questions which are being put by the Mataboole. The mother of the
child is seen with the infant in her arms, and around are members of
her family, all wearing coarse mats instead of fine gnatoo, and having
round their necks the leaves which denote humility.
Other persons beside chiefs become inspired, generally by the spirits
of those whom they had known in life. The eldest son of Finow, who
afterward succeeded to the throne, used to be inspired by a great chief
who had been murdered by his father and another chief. Mariner asked
him what were his feelings on such occasions, and he replied that he
felt restless and uncomfortable, and all over in a glow of heat, and
that his mind did not seem to be his own. When asked how he knew the
name of the spirit who then visited him, he answered that he could not
tell--he knew it intuitively, but could give no explanation.
[Illustration: (1.) THE TOW-TOW. (See page 995.)]
[Illustration: (2.) CONSULTING A PRIEST. (See page 998.)]
While Mariner was in the Tonga Islands, a young chief, remarkable for
his beauty, became inspired to such a degree that he fainted, and was
taken to the house of a priest, who told him that the spirit was that
of a young woman who had died two years before, and was now in Bolotoo
the Tonga heaven. She inspired him because she wished for him as a
husband in Bolotoo, and would soon take him there. The young chief
acknowledged the truth of the exposition, saying that for several
nights he had been visited in his sleep by a young woman, and had
suspected that she was the person who inspired him. Two days after he
was taken ill and died. Mariner was present when the priest gave his
explanation of the illness.
Shortly before Mariner was at the Tonga Islands, a still graver form of
human sacrifice was practised than that of a child.
When the Tooi-tonga died, his chief widow was strangled on the day of
the funeral, and buried in the same grave with him, just as is the case
in Fiji, whence in all probability, the Tongans borrowed the practice.
Comparatively short as was Mariner’s stay two Tooi-tongas died; but in
neither case was this terrible rite observed. In the one case there
happened to be no chief wife, all his wives being so equal in rank that
neither of them ruled the household; and, in consequence a selection
of a victim became impossible. In the second case the chief wife was
the daughter of Finow, who said openly, that if the husband were to
die first, his daughter should not be strangled, for that to destroy a
young and beautiful woman because her husband had died was inflicting
a double loss upon the community. As it happened, the Tooi-tonga did
not die until after the elder Finow was dead and had been succeeded by
his son, who not only carried out his father’s wishes on that subject,
but would not allow another Tooi-tonga to succeed; thus abolishing the
source of the only rank that was superior to him.
The Tooi-tonga being abolished, it necessarily follows that the
ceremony of Ináchi was abolished too, and but for the fact of Mariner’s
enforced residence in Tonga, this curious and interesting ceremony
would have passed away without being known to European civilization.
Mariner was present at the wedding of Finow’s daughter to the
Tooi-tonga, and describes it with some minuteness. It much resembled
a Fijian wedding, except in the costume of the bride, who was first
copiously anointed with cocoa-nut oil scented with sandal-wood, and
then arrayed in a vast number of the finest Samoan mats, which were
wrapped round her in such quantities that her arms were stuck out
almost horizontally from her body, and her legs were so much trammelled
that she could not sit down, but had to rest in a bent attitude upon
her attendants.
She was eighteen at the time. Had it not been for the good sense of
Finow, Mariner would have seen within a very short time her wedding,
her murder, and her burial. The technical name for the ceremony of
strangling is Nawgía.
We now come naturally to the subject of funerals, and will take as a
typical example the funeral of the elder Finow.
Almost immediately after the death and burial of his favorite daughter,
a child about seven years of age, Finow fell ill, his malady having
been increased by the exertions which he made during the long ceremony
of the funeral. It was on this occasion that he ordered the women to
box in general combat. On the evening of that day Finow retired to a
small house that had just been built for him, and was seized with a
violent illness, which almost deprived him of the power of speech,
though not of intellect. He evidently knew that his end was at hand,
and continually muttered “My country! my country!” evidently feeling
that calamities might come on his land if he were suddenly taken away.
A child was offered on behalf of him, which had already been selected,
but, by the time that the sacrificing party had come back to the house
where the king lay, he had lost both his speech and his consciousness,
and in a few minutes the great and wise Finow had departed this life.
When his death was ascertained, a curious ceremony was performed. The
body was carried to the Tooi-tonga’s house, and placed on the hole
in which the cooks were accustomed to light their fires. This was a
symbolical expression of humility and submission to the gods, the
cooking place being so degraded a spot that only the lowest Tooas would
condescend to touch it.
Not only the king himself, but all those in his confidence, fully
believed that his death was caused by a god named Toobo Totai, to
whom he had prayed in vain for his daughter’s recovery. In revenge
for the negligence of the god, Finow had made arrangements for
killing his priest, and had been heard to say that if Toobo Totai
did not change his conduct, and exert himself a little more, his
priest should not live long. Finow’s sudden death put a stop to this
project, which was only known to one or two of his immediate friends.
It is not unlikely that the threatened priest may have heard of his
intended assassination, and saved himself by getting a dose of poison
administered to Finow at the funeral banquet.
Finow was right in his prognostications of trouble, for no sooner was
his death known than a number of the principal chiefs of different
islands began to assemble their forces, with the intention of seizing
on the throne. His successor, however, inherited his father’s wisdom,
and took such precautions that the attempt of the conspirators was
quietly foiled.
After the royal corpse was brought back from the Tooi-tonga’s dwelling,
it was laid on bales of gnatoo in the large conical house, which
was nearly filled with women, who kept up a continual lamentation,
led by his daughter, a beautiful girl of fifteen. Even by night the
lamentations went on, the house being lighted up with lamps made of
cocoa-nut shells half filled with cocoa-nut oil, which is only used on
such occasions; and on the following morning the people assembled on
the marly to take part in the obsequies of their late king, whom they
both loved and feared. Indeed, among savage nations, there is no love
toward a chief who is not thoroughly feared.
By this time the faces of the principal mourners were scarcely
recognizable, being swollen and disfigured by the repeated blows which
they had inflicted on themselves as signs of sorrow. The chiefs and
Matabooles who were especially attached to the person or household
of the deceased king proceeded to inflict even severer injuries upon
themselves, using the club, or shell, or a sharp stone; and running
two or three at a time into the open space, while they cut their heads
with the clubs and shells so that the blood poured down their bodies in
streams; as they did so, they uttered a sort of dirge, some specimens
of which have been given by Mariner. The following is his translation
of the death chant and accompanying proceedings.
“‘Finow, I know well your mind; you have departed to Bolotoo, and left
your people, under suspicion that I or some of those about you are
unfaithful; but where is the proof of infidelity? where is a single
instance of disrespect?’ Then inflicting violent blows and deep cuts
in the head with a club, stone, or knife, would again exclaim at
intervals, ‘Is not this a proof of my fidelity? does this not evince
loyalty and attachment to the memory of the departed warrior?’ Then
perhaps two or three would run on and endeavor to seize the same club,
saying with a furious tone of voice, ‘Behold, the land is torn with
strife, it is smitten to pieces, it is split by revolts; how my blood
boils; let us haste and die! I no longer wish to live: your death,
Finow, shall be mine. But why did I wish hitherto to live? it was for
you alone; it was in your service and defence only that I wish to
breathe; but now, alas! the country is ruined. Peace and happiness are
at an end; your death has insured ours: henceforth war and destruction
alone can prosper.’
“These speeches were accompanied with a wild and frantic agitation of
the body, whilst the parties cut and bruised their heads every two or
three words with the knife or club they held in their hands. Others,
somewhat more calm and moderate in their grief, would parade up and
down with rather a wild and agitated step, spinning and whirling the
club about, striking themselves with the edge of it two or three
times violently upon the top or back of the head, and then suddenly
stopping and looking steadfastly at the instrument spattered with
blood, exclaim, ‘Alas! my club, who could have said that you would have
done this kind office for me, and have enabled me thus to evince a
testimony of my respect to Finow? Never, no, never, can you again tear
open the brains of his enemies. Alas! what a great and mighty warrior
has fallen! Oh, Finow, cease to suspect my loyalty; be convinced
of my fidelity! But what absurdity am I talking! if I had appeared
treacherous in thy sight, I should have met the fate of those numerous
warriors who have fallen victims to your just revenge. But do not
think, Finow, that I reproach you; no, I wish only to convince you of
my innocence, for who that has thoughts of harming his chiefs shall
grow white-headed like me (an expression used by some of the old men)?
O cruel gods, to deprive us of our father, of our only hope, for whom
alone we wished to live. We have indeed other chiefs, but they are only
chiefs in rank, and not like you, alas! great and mighty in war.’”
Such were their sentiments and conduct on this mournful occasion. Some,
more violent than others, cut their heads to the skull with such strong
and frequent blows, that they caused themselves to reel, producing
afterward a temporary loss of reason. It is difficult to say to what
length this extravagance would have been carried, particularly by one
old man, if the prince had not ordered Mr. Mariner to go up and take
away the club from him, as well as two others that were engaged at the
same time. It is customary on such occasions, when a man takes a club
from another, to use it himself in the same way about his own head;
but Mr. Mariner, being a foreigner, was not expected to do this: he
therefore went up, and, after some hesitation and struggle, secured
the clubs one after another, and returned with them to his seat, when,
after a while, they were taken by others, who used them in like manner.
The next proceeding was to place the body of the dead king in the
grave, which was at some distance from the place where those wild
laments had been made. Having arrived at the spot, a small house was
speedily put together, the body was laid in it, and the whole house
was covered with coarse black gnatoo, the sign of mourning, which
passed over the top of the house, and hung from the eaves to the
ground, so as entirely to conceal it.
Here another set of lamentations took place, while a number of men were
employed in opening the grave. All great families bury their dead, not
merely in the ground, but in a solid vault, about eight feet long by
six wide, and eight deep. It is made of six enormous stones, the upper
one, which forms the cover, being necessarily larger than the others.
For the convenience of raising it when required, the upper stone does
not fit quite closely upon the lower, some smaller stones being placed
between them at one end.
After digging some ten feet deep, the men came to the vault, and,
having cleared away the earth, they passed a rope under the end of the
stone cover, and by the united force of nearly two hundred men raised
it on end. Several bodies were already in the grave. Two of them, which
had been buried for full forty years, were dried and nearly perfect;
while others, which had not been buried nearly so long, were reduced
to a few bones. In some cases the vault is lined with the gnatoo on
which the body rested, while in others it becomes the property of the
presiding Mataboole.
All being ready, the body of Finow was handed down into the vault,
still lying on the gnatoo, and the body of his daughter, at whose
funeral he was seized with illness, was buried by his side. The stone
was then let down with a great shout, and the head-cutting and maiming
began afresh. The next ceremony was that of collecting sand for the
decoration of the grave.
The whole company formed themselves in single line, the women going
first, and proceeded to the back of the island, singing loudly to warn
stragglers of their presence. For any one not actually engaged in a
funeral to be seen on the road is held as so great an insult that
any ordinary man would lose his life. Even if the king himself saw
a similar procession advancing, he would hide himself until it had
passed. Remaining on his feet, though it might not actually cost him
his life, would probably be so bitterly remembered that he might lose
his throne. As soon as the funeral party arrived at the place where the
sand was found, they all set to work at making baskets out of leaves,
which they suspended from sticks and carried on their shoulders. By the
time that they reached the grave, it was nearly filled up with earth,
and the remainder was filled with sand, which was carefully and neatly
smoothed.
Next came a very curious custom, that of burning the cheeks. The
mourners, clothed in mats and green leaves, set fire to little rolls
of bark, and pressed them against each cheek-bone, so as to raise a
circular blister. This is then rubbed with the juice of an astringent
berry, which causes the wound to bleed, and the blood is smeared over
the cheeks. The friction is repeated daily for twenty days, so that an
indelible scar is the natural result.
The day after the burial a ceremony took place by which the young
prince was installed in his father’s place, and invested with his
father’s name. Finow was the name of the reigning family; but,
according to custom, no one but the actual king was allowed to bear it.
Sometimes, as a mark of especial favor, he allowed it to be borne by a
relation, but always in conjunction with some other name. The name by
which the young prince had previously been called was Moegnagnongo.
The ceremony was begun by a kava party, at which the young prince
presided. The two first cups having been filled and drunk, the third
was due to the president. The Mataboole who directed the proceedings
said, while all eyes were fixed on the prince, “Give it to FINOW,” thus
acknowledging him as the king of Tonga. The young king displayed not
the least emotion on being called by the new name, as that would have
been thought beneath his dignity, but took the cup as quietly as if he
had been called by the name of Finow all his life.
Rites similar to those which have been described went on for nineteen
days, and on the twentieth the concluding ceremony was performed. All
the relations of the deceased king, together with those who had taken
part in the funeral, went to the back of the island, and procured a
great quantity of flat pebbles, mostly white, but having a few black
among them. These they carried to the grave, and strewed completely
over the grave in the form of an oval, each pebble being laid by the
side of the other. The black pebbles were laid upon the white ones.
Dances, wrestling matches, and head-cutting then took place, in which
latter rite the fishermen of the late king distinguished themselves
in a very curious manner. Into each cheek they thrust three arrows,
the points of which passed into the mouth. The shafts of the arrows
were brought over the shoulders, and to each pair was tied another
arrow across the shoulders, so as to make a triangle. Equipped in this
extraordinary manner, they walked round the grave, and, not satisfied
with this proof of their devotion to their late master, they cut their
heads with their paddles, and pinched up the skin of their breasts,
thrusting a spear through the fold. A grand wrestling match ended this
complicated series of ceremonies.
At the burial of one great chief, who was assassinated while walking
with the king (apparently with his connivance), a very curious
variation of the ceremony took place. As soon as the body had been
lowered into the vault, one of the assassins, a man of exceptional
strength and stature, advanced toward the grave, and, brandishing his
club, avowed himself as the murderer, and challenged any friend of the
deceased chief to fight him.
The challenge was not accepted, and, although one of the wives of
the murdered man did her best to arouse the family to vengeance, she
could only succeed in inducing them to erect a strong fortress, in
which they hoped to bid defiance to Finow. The king, however, was too
wise to allow such a standing menace to remain, started off with four
thousand warriors, and reduced the disaffected chiefs to obedience. In
storming the fort, the challenging chief distinguished himself by his
deeds of arms. Though wounded in the breast with a five-barbed spear,
he broke off the shaft, scaled alone the enemy’s fortress, knocked
out a man’s brains with his club, and made good his escape. As he
retreated, however, he received another spear in his back, and died on
the following day. It is remarkable that in this battle nearly all the
assassins perished.
The religious system of the Tongans is tolerably simple. They believe
that there are several orders of gods, just as there are several ranks
of men. The principal gods are self-existent and eternal; but the
second order of gods are the souls of deceased chiefs and Matabooles.
All of noble blood have souls, and take rank in Bolotoo, or Paradise,
not according to their moral merit, but according to the rank which
they held in the world. Matabooles become ministers to the gods, just
as they were ministers to the chiefs; but they are not powerful enough
to inspire priests. There is also a class of mischievous gods, who are,
fortunately, much less powerful than the benevolent deities.
As to the Mooas, or middle class, the learned are rather doubtful
whether they go to Bolotoo, or whether they have souls. But that the
Tooas, or peasantry, have no souls, there is not the slightest doubt,
and that they can go to Bolotoo is therefore impossible.
With regard to Bolotoo, or Paradise, the Tongans believe it to be an
island somewhere to the north-west of Tonga. It is a most beautiful
place, full of the choicest fruits and the most lovely flowers. Pigs
are plentiful, and never die unless they are killed to supply food for
the gods, in which case another hog comes into existence to supply
the place of the one that was killed. So, when a fruit or a flower is
plucked, another immediately takes its place. These particulars are
learned from some Tongan voyagers, who were returning from Fiji, but
were driven out of their reckoning by a storm. At last they were blown
to a lovely island, on which they succeeded in landing. There was
abundance of fruit, but their hands could not grasp it. They walked
through the trunks of trees, and through the walls of houses as if they
were mere shadows; while some of the inhabitants walked through their
own bodies in a similar manner. Then they found they were at Bolotoo.
The gods told them to go home at once, and promised them a favorable
wind. They reached Tonga in safety, but all died soon afterward, the
air of Bolotoo not suiting mere mortals.
* * * * *
It has already been mentioned that the religious and secular lives
of the Tongans are so blended together that it is very difficult to
separate them, and that even their amusements partake somewhat of
the religious character. There are, however, one or two of their
games which partake but slightly of this element, and which are
yet characteristic of the natives. One of these sports is called
Fanna-kalai, and is a very ingenious mode of bird catching by means of
decoys.
In order to practise this amusement, the sportsman furnishes himself
with a bow and arrows, goes into the woods, and there ensconces himself
within a large wicker cage covered with green leaves, so that the
inmate may not be seen, but having plenty of openings through which
the arrows can be aimed. By his side he has a small cage, in which is
kept a hen bird, and on the top of the large cage the cock bird is tied
by the leg. When properly trained, these birds continue calling to
each other, and thus attract numbers of their own species, which fall
victims to the arrows.
Well-trained birds are exceedingly valuable, and one chief has been
known to make war upon another for the sake of procuring an especially
fine bird. Indeed, the Tongans look on these birds much as sportsmen of
the olden times looked on their falcons. To each pair of birds there
is a keeper, whose whole business it is to attend to and train them.
He is careful to teach the cock bird to flap its wings as it calls to
its mate, and to utter its notes loudly, so that they may be taken as
a challenge to other birds to come and fight him. The bird keepers
have almost unlimited powers, as nothing is allowed to interfere with
the welfare of their charge. Even when a famine visits a district, the
birds must not starve. The keeper forages for the birds, and if he
sees a fine bunch of plantains, he is allowed to put the tapu on it by
sticking a reed in the tree, after which the proprietor dares not touch
the fruit which he has saved for himself and his family. He may starve,
but the birds must be fed.
As may be imagined, the keepers attend to their own interests as
well as those of the birds, and are great pests to the neighborhood,
fleecing the people without mercy. Now and then they go a little too
far in their insolence, and a complaint is laid against them, in which
case the man seldom escapes without a severe beating.
In order to show the enormous value of these birds, Mariner tells a
story respecting the elder Finow. The chief of Hihifo possessed a bird
which he had himself trained, and which was the best that ever was
known. Finow heard of this bird, and sent a commissioner to Hihifo in
order to treat with the chief for the purchase of it. This the owner
declined to do, saying that not only had he an affection for the bird,
which he had himself trained, but he had sustained many wars made on
him by neighboring chiefs who wanted to get the bird--many lives had
been lost, and he felt his honor involved in keeping it. However, he
intrusted the ambassador with another pair of birds, very nearly as
good, and asked him to present them to Finow.
The king tried the birds next day, and was so delighted with their
performance that he was the more anxious to obtain the bird which
was even superior to them. He therefore prepared a present, which
according to the Tongan ideas of that day was of almost incalculable
value, comprising, beside whales’ teeth, gnatoo, kava, and other native
productions, several iron bolts, a quantity of beads, a looking-glass,
a grindstone, and some axes, all of which had been procured from
Europe, and most of them from the vessel in which Mariner had been
wrecked. Seeing that Finow was determined to have the bird, and that he
would probably make war if again refused, the chief wisely accepted the
present, and sent the desired prize with a polite message.
As this sport is necessarily a very expensive one, it can only be
practised by the king and very great chiefs, even the lesser chiefs
being unable to bear the cost. There is another sport which is limited
to chiefs and Matabooles. This is Fanna-gooma, or rat shooting, and is
conducted as follows. Two chiefs take the command of two parties who
intend to shoot rats, and arrange the preliminaries, _i. e._ settling
the course which they mean to take, the number of shooters on each
side, and so forth. On the appointed day, they go to some place which
has been previously fixed upon, each being provided with his bow and
two arrows.
These arrows are six feet in length, and made of a reed headed with
hard wood. They are most beautifully made, the heads being smooth and
polished with the greatest care, and the junction of the head and shaft
guarded with plaited sinnet. In some of these weapons in my collection,
the sinnet is scarcely broader than sewing silk, and is laid on with
a perfection that is scarcely credible. After the sinnet is finished
off, a slight coating of transparent varnish is laid over it, so as to
bind the plait more firmly together, and to give it an uniform polish.
In some arrows there are several similar belts of plaited sinnet. No
feather is needed, as they are never aimed at any distance, and their
great length is requisite to allow them to go straight through the
bushes among which the rats lurk.
The bow is about the same length as the arrows, and not very powerful,
so that the aim may not be disturbed by the effect of drawing it.
When they are ready to start, a couple of attendants are sent forward,
who take in their mouths some roasted cocoa-nut, which they chew,
and spit the fragments on either side of the path. If they come to a
cross-road, they plant in it an upright reed, by means of which a tapu
is laid on the path, in order to prevent any one from passing along and
disturbing the rats. No one ever disregards this tapu. Even if one of
the greatest chiefs come toward it, he will stop at a distance and sit
down until the sportsmen have passed, while an inferior chief would to
a certainty be clubbed for his insolence if he were to break the tapu.
When the party start, they arrange themselves in the following manner.
They walk in Indian file along the path, the leading chief of one party
going first, followed by the leading chief of the other side. Then come
the men of next rank on either side, and so on alternately. Except the
leading man, no one may shoot at a rat that is in front of him, though
he may do so if it be on either side, or behind him. As soon as any
one has shot his arrow, he changes places with the man behind him, no
matter whether the shot be successful or not, so that each in turn has
his chance of becoming the leading man, and so getting a double chance
of a rat. Every sportsman has an attendant who follows the party, and,
as soon as his master has discharged an arrow, picks it up and returns
it to him.
In order to attract their game, the sportsmen imitate the squeaking of
a rat, which often has the effect of bringing them out of their holes,
and if a rat should run away instead of waiting to be shot, one or two
of them, with a sharp percussion of the tongue, utter another sound,
which has the effect of making the rat stop and sit up to listen. The
party that shoots ten rats first wins the game. Birds of any kind are
counted as rats.
These two sports are necessarily restricted to chiefs, on account of
the expense in one case and the power of the tapu in the other, but
there is another which is played only by chiefs and Matabooles, being
restricted to them by etiquette and not by necessity.
The two players sit opposite each other, and one of them makes one
of three movements with his right hand, _i. e._ presenting the open
palm, the closed fist or the extended forefinger. His antagonist
endeavors to imitate the movements, but if he can succeed in making
five without being imitated, he wins a point, and marks it by laying
down a little piece of stick. Should the antagonist be successful, he
asks of the other player what were the preceding movements, their order
and the reason for each of them. If his opponent should fail to give
the correct answer, he loses a point, but if he succeeds, the game is
continued.
The skill lies not in seeing and imitating the various movements, which
are made so rapidly that an inexperienced eye cannot detect one of
them, but in remembering the movements made by the antagonist, and in
giving a feigned explanation of each. This explanation must be made
according to the laws of the game, and alters with every variation
in the order of the movements, so that considerable readiness and
ingenuity are needed in order to invent on the spur of the moment
an explanation according to the laws of the game. The chiefs are
exceedingly fond of this game, and, while playing it, work themselves
up to a wonderful pitch of excitement. The lower orders play a game
somewhat similar to this, except that no discussion about the moves is
allowable, and the intellectual element is therefore wanting.
There are many other games that are common to all ranks. One of these
is called Tolo. A piece of soft wood, nine inches in diameter, is
fastened to the top of a post of harder wood about five or six feet
high, and the game consists in throwing a heavy spear so that it shall
stick in the soft wood. Six or eight persons play on each side, every
player being allowed three throws. Another game with spears somewhat
resembles the djerid, and consists in hurling blunted spears at each
other.
The Tongans are singularly dexterous of hand. They excel in ball play,
and have a game which consists in playing with five balls, which are
thrown from one hand to the other, so as to keep four balls always in
the air. They sing a song at the same time, each cadence coinciding
with the transfer of the balls from one hand to the other, and for
every verse that they can finish without a mistake they score one
point. They have also a game very much resembling our cup and ball.
Another game in which dexterity of hand is needed is called Lafo. A mat
is laid on the ground, and the players throw beans on it, each trying
to knock off those of his antagonist. This game has a sort of celebrity
from having been connected with one of the few acts of cannibalism
attributed to the Tongans. During a severe famine, two daughters of a
chief played a game of lafo with two young warriors. If the men won,
they were to have half the yam, but if they lost, they were still to
have half the yam, but were obliged to go out, kill an enemy, and
divide his body with the girls. They lost the game, ate their yam, and
waited until night for the fulfilment of their promise. After dark
they stole out, and hid themselves near the fortress of the enemy. As
they had anticipated, in the early morning one of the men came out to
fetch salt water, and passed near the spot where they lay in ambush.
They struck him down with their clubs, and at the risk of their lives
brought his body off to the spot where the girls lived. If in any
of these games there should be a dispute, the men settle it by an
extemporized wrestling match, and the women by spinning a cocoa-nut.
Being islanders, they are very familiar with the water, and practise
the well-known sport of surf swimming. This sport will be described
when we come to treat of the Sandwich Islands. They have another
aquatic sport peculiar to themselves. Two posts are driven into the bed
of the sea, about seventy yards apart, a spot being chosen where the
water is about ten feet deep. Each player takes in his hands a large
stone, jumps into the water by one post, and tries to carry it to the
other post by running along the bottom. The chief difficulty is to
pursue a straight course, as at such a distance the winning post is not
visible through the water.
While Mr. Mariner was at the Tonga Islands, he took part in an
amusement which derived its origin from a love legend. He accompanied
Finow to a small island called Hoonga, and, on walking down to the
sea-shore, he saw his companions bathing near a great rock, and was
startled to find that they one after the other dived into the water and
did not come up again. Just as the last was preparing to dive, he asked
the meaning of this astonishing proceeding, and was told to follow, and
he would be taken to a place where he had never been before, and where
Finow and his Matabooles were then assembled.
He then dived into the water, and Mr. Mariner followed him, guided by
the light reflected from his heels. Passing through an aperture in the
base of the rock which has just been mentioned, he rose to the surface
of the water and found himself in a cavern. At first he could see
nothing, but he could distinguish the voices of Finow and his other
friends; and after a while became so accustomed to the dim light that
he could just manage to see that he was in a vast stalactitic cavern.
As the only light which entered it was reflected from the bottom of
the water, and exceedingly dim, he dived out again, wrapped up his
loaded pistol in a quantity of gnatoo, directed a servant to prepare a
torch in the same manner, and dived back again By means of the pistol
he lighted the torch, and probably for the first time since it was
formed, the cavern was illuminated. It was about forty feet wide and
as many high, and ran off at one side into two galleries. Its roof
was covered with stalactites hanging in the fantastic patterns which
they are apt to assume. The story which was told him respecting the
discovery of this cavern is quite a romance of savage life.
Many years ago a young chief of Vavaoo discovered the cavern by
accident, while diving after turtles, but took care to keep the
discovery to himself, as he thought he should find it useful in case
he was detected in a plot against the principal chief of the island,
a man of cruel and tyrannous disposition. Another chief had the same
intentions, and was organizing a revolt, when he was betrayed by one of
his own followers, and condemned to be drowned, together with the whole
of his family. It so happened that he had a very beautiful daughter
whom the young chief had long loved, but to whom he dared not speak,
knowing her to be betrothed to a man of higher rank than himself.
When, however, he found that her life was to be sacrificed, he
contrived to make his way to her in the evening, told her of the fate
which was in reserve for her, and offered to save her. The girl at once
consented, and the two stole gently to the seaside, where a little
canoe was drawn up. On their way to Hoonga the young chief told the
girl of this place of retreat, and as soon as the day broke took her
into the cavern. He was not long in finding out that the affection was
mutual, but that the fact of her being betrothed to another had caused
her to avoid him.
She remained in this cavern for two months, during which her young
husband brought her the finest mats and gnatoo, the best food, and
everything which constitutes Tongan luxury. He was, however, forced to
spend a considerable part of his time at Vavaoo, lest the tyrannical
chief should suspect him, and he was naturally anxious to take his wife
to some place where they could live together in safety.
Accordingly, he called together his subordinate chiefs and Matabooles,
and told them to prepare for a voyage to the Fiji Islands, accompanied
with their wives and families. This expedition was kept secret lest the
tyrant should put a stop to it. Just as they started, one of the chiefs
advised him to take a Tongan wife with him, but he declined to do so,
saying that he should find one by the way. They took his reply for a
joke, and set sail toward Hoonga. When they neared the shores of the
island, he told his men to wait while he went into the sea to fetch a
wife, and, leaping into the sea from the side of the canoe which was
farthest from the shore, he dived and disappeared.
After waiting for a while the people began to be seriously alarmed,
thinking that he must have met with some accident, or that a shark had
caught him. Suddenly, while they were debating as to the best course
to be pursued, he appeared on the surface of the water, accompanied by
a beautiful young female, whom he took into the canoe. At first his
people were terribly frightened, thinking that she was a goddess; but,
when they recognized her features, they took her for an apparition,
believing that she had been drowned together with the rest of her
family. The young chief arrived safely at the Fiji Islands, where
he lived for two years; and at the expiration of that time, hearing
that the tyrant of Vavaoo was dead, he returned to his native island,
bringing with him his strangely rescued wife.
The facts of this story show that the cave must have some opening
which admits the outer air, as otherwise no one could have lived in
it so long. Even granting that the time of the girl’s residence was
exaggerated, Mr. Mariner found that the air was perfectly fresh and
sweet after Finow and his friends had remained in it for several hours,
and a torch had been burned in it besides.
The island in which this extraordinary cavern is found is rather
venerated by the Tongans as being the origin of their group of islands.
Tongaloa, the god of arts and inventions, let down a fishing-line from
the sky into the sea, when he suddenly felt his hook caught. He hauled
up his line, thinking that from the resistance he had caught a very
large fish. It turned out, however, that the hook had got itself fixed
in the bed of the sea, and as the god continued to haul he drew up the
Tonga islands. They would have been much larger, only the line broke,
and the islands were left imperfect.
Mr. Mariner learned that the hook by which the Tonga islands had
been drawn from the bed of the sea was kept in the custody of the
Tooi-tonga, but had been burned, together with the house, about thirty
years before. It was about six inches long, and from the description
was one of the ordinary fishhooks of the country. Mariner asked why it
did not break when hauling up so enormous a weight, and was told that
it was a god’s hook, and therefore could not break. Being asked how it
happened that the line, which was also the property of a god, broke,
his interlocutor declined to pursue the subject any further, saying
that so he had been told, and that there was no necessity for further
inquiries.