the seal-fishery would be at an end, for the seal is essentially a
marine animal; and although it can exist upon the ice or on dry land, it
could not _subsist_ there. Access to the water it must have, in order to
procure its food, which consists of small fish and mollusks. Of course,
when the ice forms on the surface, the seal is in its true element—the
water underneath—but when this ice becomes, as it often does, a full
yard in thickness, extending over hundreds of miles of the sea, how then
is the seal to be got at? It could not be reached at all; and at such a
season the Esquimaux people would undoubtedly starve, were it not for a
habit peculiar to this animal, which, happily for them, brings it within
their reach.
Though the seal can live under water like a fish, and probably could
pass a whole winter under the ice without much inconvenience, it likes
now and then to take a little fresh air, and have a quiet nap upon the
upper surface in the open air. With this design it breaks a hole through
the ice, while the latter is yet thin, and this hole it keeps carefully
open during the whole winter, clearing out each new crust as it forms.
No matter to what thickness the ice may attain, this hole always forms a
breathing-place for the seal, and a passage by which he may reach the
upper surface, and indulge himself in his favorite siesta in the open
air. Knowing this habit, the Esquimaux takes advantage of it to make the
seal his captive. When the animal is discovered on the ice, the hunter
approaches with the greatest stealth and caution. This is absolutely
neccessary: for if the enemy is perceived, or makes the slightest noise,
the wary seal flounders rapidly into his hole, and is lost beyond
redemption. If badly frightened, he will not appear for a long time,
denying himself his open air exercise until the patience of his
persecutor is quite worn out, and the coast is again clear.
In making his approaches, the hunter uses all his art, not only taking
advantage of every inequality—such as snow-drifts and ice-hillocks—to
conceal himself; but he also practises an ingenious deception by
dressing himself in the skin of a seal of like species, giving his body
the figure of the animal, and counterfeiting its motions, by floundering
clumsily over the ice, and oscillating his head from side to side, just
as seals are seen to do.
This deception often proves successful, when the hunter under any other
shape would in vain endeavor to get within striking distance of his
prey. When seals are scarce, and the supply greatly needed, the
Esquimaux often lies patiently for hours together on the edge of a
seal-hole waiting for the animal to come up. In order to give it time to
get well out upon the ice, the hunter conceals himself behind a heap of
snow, which he has collected and piled up for the purpose. A
float-stick, ingeniously placed in the water of the breathing-hole,
serves as a signal to tell when the seal is mounting through his
trap-like passage, the motion of the stick betraying its ascent. The
hunter then gets himself into the right attitude to strike, and summons
all his energies for the encounter.
Even during the long, dark night of winter this mode of capturing the
seal is practised. The hunter, having discovered a breathing-hole—which
its dark color enables him to find—proceeds in the following manner: he
scrapes away the snow from around it, and lifting up some water pours it
on the ice, so as to make a circle of a darker hue around the orifice.
He then makes a sort of cake of pure white snow, and with this covers
the hole as with a lid. In the centre of this lid he punches a small
opening with the shaft-end of his spear, and then sits down and
patiently awaits the issue.
The seal ascends unsuspiciously as before. The dark water, bubbling up
through the small central orifice, betrays its approach, which can be
perceived even in the darkest night. The hunter does not wait for its
climbing out upon the ice. Perhaps if he did so, the suspicious creature
might detect the device, and dive down again. But it is not allowed time
for reflection. Before it can turn its unwieldly body, the heavy spear
of the hunter—struck through the yielding snow—descends upon its skull,
and kills it on the instant.
The great “walrus” or “morse” (_Trichecus rosmarus_) is another
important product of the Polar Seas, and is hunted by the Esquimaux with
great assiduity. This splendid amphibious animal is taken by
contrivances very similar to those used for the seal; but the capture of
a walrus is an event of importance, second only to the striking of a
whale. Its great carcass not only supplies food to a whole village, but
an oil superior to that of the whale, besides various other useful
articles. Its skin, bones, and intestines are employed by the Esquimaux
for many domestic purposes,—and, in addition, there are the huge molar
tusks, that furnish one of the most valuable ivories of commerce, from
which are manufactured those beautiful sets of teeth, of dazzling
whiteness, that, gleaming between vermilion lips, you may often see at a
ball or an evening party!
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THE TONGANS, OR FRIENDLY ISLANDERS.
It is a pleasure to pass out of the company of the ferocious Feegees
into that of another people, which, though near neighbors of the former,
are different from them in almost every respect,—I mean the Tongans, or
Friendly Islanders. This appellation scarce requires to be explained.
Every one knows that it was bestowed upon them by the celebrated
navigator Cook,—who although not the actual discoverer of the Tonga
group was the first who thoroughly explored these islands, and gave any
reliable account of them to the civilized world. Tasman, who might be
termed the “Dutch Captain Cook,” is allowed to be their discoverer, so
long ago as 1643; though there is reason to believe that some of the
Spanish explorers from Peru may have touched at these islands before his
time. Tasman, however, has fixed the record of his visit, and is
therefore entitled to the credit of the discovery,—as he is also to that
of Australia, New Zealand, Van Diemen’s Land, and other now well-known
islands of the Southwestern Pacific. Tasman bestowed upon three of the
Tonga group the names—Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and Middleburgh; but,
fortunately, geographers have acted in this matter with better taste
than is their wont; and Tasman’s Dutch national titles have fallen into
disuse,—while the true native names of the islands have been restored to
the map. This is what should be done with other Pacific islands as well;
for it is difficult to conceive anything in worse taste than such titles
as the Caroline and Loyalty Isles, Prince William’s Land, King George’s
Island, and the ten thousand Albert and Victoria Lands which the genius
of flattery, or rather flunkeyism, has so liberally distributed over the
face of the earth. The title of Friendly Isles, bestowed by Cook upon
the Tonga archipelago, deserves to live; since it is not only
appropriate, but forms the record of a pleasant fact,—the pacific
character of our earliest intercourse with these interesting people.
It may be here remarked, that Mr. Wylde and other superficial map-makers
have taken a most unwarrantable liberty with this title. Instead of
leaving it as bestowed by the great navigator,—applicable to the Tonga
archipelago alone,—they have _stretched_ it to include that of the
Samoans, and—would it be believed—that of the _Feegees_? It is hardly
necessary to point out the extreme absurdity of such a classification:
since it would be difficult to find two nationalities much more unlike
than those of Tonga and Feegee. That they have many customs in common,
is due (unfortunately for the Tongans) to the intercourse which
proximity has produced; but in an ethnological sense, white is not a
greater contrast to black, nor good to evil, than that which exists
between a Tongan and a Feegeean. Cook never visited the Feegee
archipelago,—he only saw some of these people while at Tonga-taboo, and
heard of their country as being _a large island_. Had he visited that
island,—or rather that group of over two hundred islands,—it is not at
all likely he would have seen reason to extend to them the title which
the map-makers have thought fit to bestow. Instead of “Friendly
Islands,” he might by way of contrast have called them the “Hostile
Isles,” or given them that—above all others most appropriate, and which
they truly deserve to bear—that old title celebrated in song! the
“Cannibal Islands.” An observer so acute as Cook could scarce have
overlooked the appropriateness of the appellation.
The situation of the Tonga, or Friendly Isles, is easily registered in
the memory. The parallel of 20° south, and the meridian of 175° west,
very nearly intersect each other in Tofoa, which may be regarded as the
central island of the group. It will thus be seen that their central
point is 5° east and 2° south of the centre of the Feegeean archipelago,
and the nearest islands of the two groups are about three hundred miles
apart.
It is worthy of observation, however, that the Tonga Isles have the
advantage, as regards the wind. The _trades_ are in their favor; and
from Tonga to Feegee, if we employ a landsman’s phraseology, it is
“down hill,” while it is all “up hill” in the contrary direction.
The consequence is, that many Tongans are constantly making voyages
to the Feegee group,—a large number of them having settled there (as
stated elsewhere),—while but a limited number of Feegeeans find
their way to the Friendly Islands. There is another reason for this
unequally-balanced migration: and that is, that the Tongans are much
bolder and better sailors than their western neighbors; for although
the Feegees far excel way other South-Sea islanders in the art of
_building_ their canoes (or ships as they might reasonably be
called), yet they are as far behind many others in the art of
_sailing_ them.
Their superiority in ship-building may be attributed, partly, to the
excellent materials which these islands abundantly afford; though this
is not the sole cause. However much we may deny to the Feegeeans the
possession of moral qualities, we are at the same time forced to admit
their great intellectual capacity,—as exhibited in the advanced state of
their arts and manufactures. In intellectual capacity, however, the
Friendly Islanders are their equals; and the superiority of the
Feegeeans even in “canoe architecture” is no longer acknowledged. It is
true the Tongans go to the Feegee group for most of their large double
vessels; but that is for the reasons already stated,—the greater
abundance and superior quality of the timber and other materials
produced there. In the Feegee “dockyards,” the Tongans build for
themselves; and have even improved upon the borrowed pattern.
This intercourse,—partaking somewhat of the character of an
alliance,—although in some respects advantageous to the Friendly
Islanders, may be regarded, upon the whole, as unfortunate for them. If
it has improved their knowledge in arts and manufactures, it has far
more than counterbalanced this advantage by the damage done to their
moral character. It is always much easier to make proselytes to vice
than to virtue,—as is proved in this instance: for his intercourse with
the ferocious Feegee has done much to deteriorate the character of the
Tongan. From that source he has imbibed a fondness for war and other
wicked customs; and in all probability, had this influence been
permitted to continue uninterrupted for a few years longer, the horrid
habit of cannibalism—though entirely repugnant to the natural
disposition of the Tongans—would have become common among them. Indeed,
there can be little doubt that this would have been the ultimate
consequence of the alliance; for already its precursors—human sacrifices
and the vengeful immolation of enemies—had made their appearance upon
the Friendly Islands. Happily for the Tongan, another influence—that of
the missionaries—came just in time to avert this dire catastrophe; and,
although this missionary interference has not been the best of its kind,
it is still preferable to the paganism which it has partially succeeded
in subduing.
The Tongan archipelago is much less extensive than that of the
Feegees,—the islands being of a limited number, and only five or six of
them of any considerable size. Tongataboo, the largest, is about ninety
miles in circumference. From the most southern of the group Eoo, to
Vavau at the other extremity, it stretches, northerly or northeasterly,
about two hundred miles, in a nearly direct line. The islands are all,
with one or two exceptions, low-lying, their surface being diversified
by a few hillocks or mounds, of fifty or sixty feet in height, most of
which have the appearance of being artificial. Some of the smaller
islets, as Kao, are mountains of some six hundred feet elevation, rising
directly out of the sea; while Tofoa, near the eastern edge of the
archipelago, presents the appearance of an elevated table-land. The
larger number of them are clothed with a rich tropical vegetation, both
natural and cultivated, and their botany includes most of the species
common to the other islands of the South Sea. We find the cocoa, and
three other species of palm, the pandanus, the bread-fruit in varieties,
as also the useful musacaæ,—the plantain, and banana. The ti-tree
(_Dracæna terminalis_), the paper-mulberry (_Broussonetia papyrifera_),
the sugar-cane, yams of many kinds, the tree yielding the well-known
_turmeric_, the beautiful _casuarina_, and a hundred other sorts of
plants, shrubs, or trees, valuable for the product of their roots or
fruits, their sap and pith, of their trunks and branches, their leaves
and the fibrous material of their bark.
As a scenic decoration to the soil, there is no part of the world where
more lovely landscapes are produced by the aid of a luxuriant
vegetation. They are perhaps not equal in picturesque effect to those of
the Feegee group,—where mountains form an adjunct to the scenery,—but in
point of soft, quiet beauty, the landscapes of the Tonga Islands are not
surpassed by any others in the tropical world; and with the climate they
enjoy—that of an endless summer—they might well answer to the
description of the “abode of the Blessed.” And, indeed, when Tasman
first looked upon these islands, they perhaps merited the title more
than any other spot on the habitable globe; for, if any people on this
earth might be esteemed happy and blessed, surely it was the inhabitants
of these fair isles of the far Southern Sea. Tasman even records the
remarkable fact, that he saw no arms among them,—no weapons of war! and
perhaps, at that time, neither the detestable trade nor its implements
were known to them. Alas in little more than a century afterwards, this
peaceful aspect was no longer presented. When the great English
navigator visited these islands, he found the war-club and spear in the
hands of the people, both of Feegee pattern, and undoubtedly of the same
ill-omened origin.
The personal appearance of the Friendly Islanders differs not a great
deal from that of the other South-Sea tribes or nations. Of course we
speak only of the true Polynesians of the brown complexion, without
reference to the black-skinned islanders—as the Feegees and others of
the Papuan stock. The two have neither resemblance nor relationship to
one another; and it would not be difficult to show that they are of a
totally distinct origin. As for the blacks, it is not even certain that
they are themselves of one original stock; for the splendidly-developed
cannibal of Feegee presents very few features in common with the
wretched kangaroo-eater of West Australia. Whether the black islanders
(or Melanesians as they have been designated) originally came from one
source, is still a question for ethnologists; but there can be no doubt
as to the direction whence they entered upon the colonization of the
Pacific. That was certainly upon its western border, beyond which they
have not made much progress: since the Feegeean archipelago is at the
present time their most advanced station to the eastward. The brown or
Polynesian races, on the contrary, began their migrations from the
eastern border of the great ocean—in other words, they came from
America; and the so-called Indians of America are, in my opinion, the
_progenitors_, not the _descendants_, of these people of the Ocean
world. If learned ethnologists will give their attention to this view of
the subject, and disembarrass their minds of that fabulous old fancy,
about an original stock situated somewhere (they know not exactly where)
upon the steppes of Asia, they will perhaps arrive at a more rational
hypothesis about the peopling of the so-called new worlds, both the
American and Oceanic. They will be able to prove—what might be here done
if space would permit—that the Polynesians are emigrants from tropical
America, and that the Sandwich Islanders came originally from
California, and not the Californians from the island homes of Hawaii.
It is of slight importance here how this question may be viewed. Enough
to know that the natives of the Tonga group bear a strong resemblance to
those of the other Polynesian archipelagos—to the Otaheitans and New
Zealanders, but most of all to the inhabitants of the Samoan or
Navigators’ Islands, of whom, indeed, they may be regarded as a branch,
with a separate political and geographical existence. Their language
also confirms the affinity, as it is merely a dialect of the common
tongue spoken by all the Polynesians.
Whatever difference exists between the Tongans and other Polynesians in
point of personal appearance, is in favor of the former. The men are
generally regarded as the best-looking of all South-Sea Islanders, and
the women among the fairest of their sex. Many of them would be
accounted beautiful in any part of the world; and as a general rule,
they possess personal beauty in a far higher degree than the
much-talked-of Otaheitans.
The Tongans are of tall stature—rather above than under that of European
nations. Men of six feet are common enough; though few are seen of what
might be termed gigantic proportions. In fact, the true medium size is
almost universal, and the excess in either direction forms the
exception. The bulk of their bodies is in perfect proportion to their
height. Unlike the black Feegeeans—who are often bony and gaunt—the
Tongans possess well-rounded arms and limbs; and the hands and feet,
especially those of the women, are small and elegantly shaped.
To give a delineation of their features would be a difficult task—since
these are so varied in different individuals, that it would be almost
impossible to select a good typical face. Indeed the same might be said
of nearly every nation on the face of the earth; and the difficulty will
be understood by your making an attempt to describe some face that will
answer for every set of features in a large town, or even a small
village; or still, with greater limitation, for the different
individuals of a single family. Just such a variety there will be found
among the faces of the Friendly Islanders, as you might note in the
inhabitants of an English town or county; and hence the difficulty of
making a correct likeness. A few characteristic points, however, may be
given, both as to their features and complexion. Their lips are scarcely
ever of a thick or negro form; and although the noses are in general
rounded at the end, this rule is not universal;—many have genuine Roman
noses, and what may be termed a full set of the best Italian features.
There is also less difference between the sexes in regard to their
features than is usually seen elsewhere—those of the women being only
distinguished by their less size.
The forms of the women constitute a more marked distinction; and among
the beauties of Tonga are many that might be termed models in respect to
shape and proportions. In color, the Tongans are lighter than most other
South-Sea Islanders. Some of the better classes of women—those least
exposed to the open air—show skins of a light olive tint; and the
children of all are nearly white after birth. They become browner less
from age than exposure to the sun; for, as soon as they are able to be
abroad, they scarce ever afterwards enter under the shadow of a roof,
except during the hours of night.
The Tongans have good eyes and teeth; but in this respect they are not
superior to many other Oceanic tribes—even the black Feegeeans
possessing both eyes and “ivories” scarce surpassed anywhere. The
Tongans, however, have the advantage of their dusky neighbors in the
matter of hair—their heads being clothed with a luxuriant growth of true
hair. Sometimes it is quite straight, as among the American Indians, but
oftener with a slight wave or undulation, or a curl approaching, but
never quite arriving at the condition of “crisp.”
His hair in its natural color is jet black; and it is to be regretted
that the Tongans have not the good taste to leave it to its natural hue.
On the contrary, their fashion is to stain it of a reddish-brown, a
purple or an orange. The brown is obtained by the application of burnt
coral, the purple from a vegetable dye applied poultice-fashion to the
hair, and the orange is produced by a copious lathering of common
turmeric,—with which the women also sometimes anoint their bodies, and
those of their children. This fashion of hair-dyeing is also common to
the Feegees, and whether they obtained it from the Tongans, or the
Tongans from them, is an unsettled point. The more probable hypothesis
would be, that among many other ugly customs, it had its origin in
Feegee-land,—where, however, the people assign a reason for practising
it very different from the mere motive of ornament. They allege that it
also serves a useful purpose, in preventing the too great fructification
of a breed of parasitic insects,—that would otherwise find the immense
mop of the frizzly Feegeean a most convenient dwelling-place, and a
secure asylum from danger. This may have had something to do with the
origin of the custom; but once established for purposes of utility, it
is now confirmed, and kept up by the Tongans as a useless ornament.
Their taste in the color runs exactly counter to that of European
fashionables. What a pity it is that the two could not make an exchange
of hair! Then both parties, like a pair of advertisements in the
“Times,” would exactly _fit_ each other.
Besides the varied fashion in colors, there is also great variety in the
styles in which the Tongans wear their hair. Some cut it short on one
side of their head, leaving it at full length on the other; some shave a
small patch, or cut off only a single lock; while others—and these
certainly display the best taste—leave it to grow out in all its full
luxuriance. In this, again, we find the European fashion reversed, for
the women are those who wear it shortest. The men, although they are not
without beard, usually crop this appendage very close, or shave it off
altogether,—a piece of shell, or rather a pair of shells, serving them
for a razor.
The mode is to place the thin edge of one shell underneath the
hair,—just as a hair-cutter does his comb,—and with the edge of the
other applied above, the hairs are rasped through and divided. There are
regular barbers for this purpose, who by practice have been rendered
exceedingly dexterous in its performance; and the victim of the
operation alleges that there is little or no pain produced,—at all
events, it does not bring the tears to his eyes, as a dull razor often
does with us poor thin-skinned Europeans!