Finally, whatever the immediate or remoter causes of individual acts of cannibalism may have been, this much seems clear, that the strength of the whole evil lay in the religious belief, propagated by the priests, encouraged by the poets, and practised by the chiefs and people, that it was an institution founded and patronized by the gods of Cannibal-land. The Fijian man-eater was taught from early childhood, that the gods would often punish a crime by forsaking the objects of their care, whether on the battle-field or the briny deep, and leaving them in the hands of other and strange gods, who, in war, were those of the enemy, and in shipwreck, those of the tribe on whose shores they were thrown. Everything of an untoward nature that happens to a man is, according to the Fijian’s creed, punishment for some known or unknown sin. It was, therefore, a most binding religious duty for the people to eat what the gods provided, seeing that by so doing they were at most, only willing instruments of punishment in the hands of incensed and dreadful spirits.
If in war the oven was the only grave for the fallen soldier, and in shipwreck the only life-boat for the castaway sailor, and this, moreover, by order of the gods, we need not be surprised at the countless works of darkness, for which these people, in many things the highest of uncivilised races, have made themselves notorious; for, what will not men do when goaded on by the irresistible force of religious superstition, and the conscientious belief that their religion not only sanctions, but also demands and sanctifies the deed?
It was now my lot to be the witness of a cannibal orgie, the abominations of which will never be erased from my memory.
An important preliminary to the feast was the convivial yangona or kava ring, in which the king and the leading chiefs joined. This intoxicating beverage, to which the Fijians are largely addicted, is an infusion of the root of the piper methysticum, which is chewed by young men or girls, and then strained through a handful of hibiscus fibres. A large bowl having been filled, the process being accompanied by some set ceremonies, the cup-bearer in a stooping attitude presented the first cup to the king. His Majesty passed it on to the priest, who poured a few drops as a libation on the sacred stone in his charge, called the Fallen-from-Heaven, which preceded the army in the last engagement.
There remained a large cocoanut bowl nearly full of the liquor, and Box-of-Tricks availed himself of the opportunity to show the young men how well he could quaff the draught without once removing the vessel from his lips. Taking the bowl in his hands he said: “This is the libation to the great temple. Know that the mind of all here is that thy people may live, and that the trees may bear abundant fruit. This is the first offering of thy children. May our land be established, and may the fish continue to rise up out of the sea. Then shall we live, and all those who plot against us be clubbed.”
Raising his voice to a sort of recitative, the priest continued his prayer:
“O ye gods whom now we honor,
Let your minds be undivided.
Give us treasure, life and pleasure.
Let our women and our children