The time of the Tongan Islanders is passed pleasantly enough, when there is no wicked war upon hand. The men employ themselves in cultivating the ground or fishing; and here the woman is no longer the mere slave and drudge—as almost universally elsewhere among savage or even semi-civilized nations. This is a great fact, which tells a wondrous tale—which speaks trumpet-tongued to the credit of the Tongan Islander. Not only do the men share the labor with their more delicate companions, but everything else—their food, conversation, and every enjoyment of life. Both partake alike—eat together, drink together, and join at once in the festive ceremony. In their grand dances—or balls as they might more properly be termed—the women play an important part; and these exhibitions, though in the open air, are got up with an elegance and éclat that would not disgrace the most fashionable ball-room in Christendom. Their dances, indeed, are far more graceful than anything ever seen either at “Almacks” or the “Jardin Mabille.”
The principal employment of the men is in the cultivation of their yam and plantain grounds, many of which extend to the size of fields, with fences that would almost appear to have been erected as ornaments. These are of canes, closely set, raised to the height of six feet—wide spaces being left between the fences of different owners to serve as roads for the whole community. In the midst of these fields stand the sheds, or houses, surrounded by splendid forms of tropic vegetation, and forming pictures of a softly beautiful character.
The men also occupy themselves in the construction of their canoes,—to procure the large ones, making a voyage as already stated, to the Feegee Islands, and sometimes remaining absent for several years.
These, however, are usually professional boat-builders, and form but a very small proportion of the forty thousand people who inhabit the different islands of the Tongan archipelago.
The men also occasionally occupy themselves in weaving mats and wicker baskets, and carving fancy toys out of wood and shells; but the chief part of the manufacturing business is in the hands of the women—more especially the making of the tapa cloth, already so often mentioned. An account of the manufacture may be here introduced, with the proviso, that it is carried on not only by the women of the Feegee group, but by those of nearly all the other Polynesian Islands. There are slight differences in the mode of manufacture, as well as in the quality of the fabric; but the account here given, both of the making and dyeing, will answer pretty nearly for all.
The bark of the malo-tree, or “paper-mulberry,” is taken off in strips, as long as possible, and then steeped in water, to facilitate the separation of the epidermis, which is effected by a large volute shell. In this state it is kept for some time, although fit for immediate use. A log, flattened on the upper side, is so fixed as to spring a little, and on this the strips of bark—or masi, as it is called—are beaten with an iki, or mallet, about two inches square, and grooved longitudinally on three of its sides. Two lengths of the wet masi are generally beaten together, in order to secure greater strength—the gluten which they contain being sufficient to keep their fibres united. A two-inch strip can thus be beaten out to the width of a foot and a half; but the length is at the same time reduced. The pieces are neatly lapped together with the starch of the taro, or arrowroot, boiled whole; and thus reach a length of many yards. The “widths” are also joined by the same means laterally, so as to form pieces of fifteen or thirty feet square, and upon these, the ladies exhaust their ornamenting skill. The middle of the square is printed with a red-brown, by the following process:—Upon a convex board, several feet long, are arranged parallel, at about a finger-width apart, thin straight slips of bamboo, a quarter of an inch wide. By the side of these, curved pieces, formed of the midrib of cocoanut leaflets, are arranged. On the board thus prepared the cloth is laid, and rubbed over with a dye obtained from the lauci (Aleurites triloba). The cloth of course, takes the dye upon those parts which receive pressure, being supported by the slips beneath; and thus shows the same pattern in the color employed. A stronger preparation of the same dye, laid on with a sort of brush, is used to divide the square into oblong compartments, with large round or radiated dots in the centre. The kesa, or dye, when good, dries bright. Blank borders, two or three feet wide, are still left on two sides of the square; and to elaborate the ornamentation of these, so as to excite applause, is the pride of every lady. There is now an entire change of apparatus. The operator works on a plain board; the red dye gives place to a jet black; the pattern is now formed of a strip of banana-leaf placed on the upper surface of the cloth. Out of the leaf is cut the pattern—not more than an inch long—which the lady wishes to print upon the border, and holds by her first and middle finger, pressing it down with the thumb. Then taking a soft pad of cloth, steeped in the dye, in her right hand, she rubs it firmly over the stencil, and a fair, sharp figure is made. The practised fingers of the operator move quickly, but it is, after all, a tedious process.
I regret to add, that the men employ themselves in an art of less utility: the manufacture of war weapons—clubs and spears—which the people of the different islands, and even those of the same, too often brandish against one another. This war spirit is entirely owing to their intercourse with the ferocious Feegees, whose boasting and ambitious spirit they are too prone to emulate. In fact, their admiration of the Feegee habits is something surprising; and can only be accounted for by the fact, that while visiting these savages and professed warriors, the Tongans have become imbued with a certain fear of them. They acknowledge the more reckless spirit of their allies, and are also aware that in intellectual capacity the black men are not inferior to themselves. They certainly are inferior in courage, as in every good moral quality; but the Tongans can hardly believe this, since their cruel and ferocious conduct seems to give color to the contrary idea. In fact, it is this that inspires them with a kind of respect, which has no other foundation than a vague sense of fear. Hence they endeavor to emulate the actions that produce this fear, and this leads them to go to war with one another.
It is to be regretted that the missionaries have supplied them with a motive. Their late wars are solely due to missionary influence,—for Methodism upon the Tongan Islands has adopted one of the doctrines of Mahomet, and believes in the faith being propagated by the sword. A usurper, who wishes to be king over the whole group, has embraced the Methodist form of Christianity, and linked himself with its teachers,—who offer to aid him with all their influence; and these formerly peaceful islands now present the painful spectacle of a divided nationality,—the “Christian party,” and the “Devil’s party.” The object of conquest on the part of the former is to place the Devil’s party under the absolute sovereignty of a despot, whose laws will be dictated by his missionary ministers. Of the mildness of these laws we have already some specimens, which of course extend only to the “Christianized.” One of them, which refers to the mode of wearing the pareu, has been already hinted at,—and another is a still more off-hand piece of legislation: being an edict that no one hereafter shall be permitted to smoke tobacco, under pain of a most severe punishment.
When it is considered that the Tongan Islander enjoys the “weed” (and grows it too) more than almost any other smoker in creation, the severity of the “taboo” may be understood. But it is very certain, if his Methodist majesty were once firmly seated on his throne, bluer laws than this would speedily be proclaimed. The American Commodore Wilkes found things in this warlike attitude when he visited the Tongan Islands; but perceiving that the right was clearly on the side of the “Devil’s party,” declined to interfere; or rather, his interference, which would have speedily brought peace, was rejected by the Christian party, instigated by the sanguinary spirit of their “Christian” teachers. Not so, Captain Croker, of Her Britannic Majesty’s service, who came shortly after. This unreflecting officer—loath to believe that royalty could be in the wrong—at once took side with the king and Christians, and dashed headlong into the affair. The melancholy result is well known. It ended by Captain Croker leaving his body upon the field, alongside those of many of his brave tars; and a disgraceful retreat of the Christian party beyond the reach of their enemies.
This interference of a British war-vessel in the affairs of the Tongan Islanders, offers a strong contrast to our conduct when in presence of the Feegees. There we have the fact recorded of British officers being eyewitnesses of the most horrid scenes,—wholesale murder and cannibalism,—with full power to stay the crime and full authority to punish it,—that authority which would have been freely given them by the accord and acclamation of the whole civilized world,—and yet they stood by, in the character of idle spectators, fearful of breaking through the delicate icy line of non-intervention!