A NATIVE LEGEND — THE RAT GOD, AND HIS MISHAPS ON A JOURNEY — EVASION OF A HUMILIATING CUSTOM — MODERN CHANGES OF GOVERNMENT — THE VARIOUS RANKS OF CHIEFS AND PEOPLE — THE SYSTEM OF VASU, OR NEPOTISM EXTRAORDINARY — SINGULAR POWER OF THE VASU — THE SYSTEM A HINDRANCE TO INDUSTRY — THE VASU AS AN AMBASSADOR — PAYMENT OF TAXES — PRESENTATION OF THE CANOE — TRIBUTE PAID IN KIND AND IN LABOR — THE TENURE OF LAND — A SINGULAR CUSTOM — ATTACHMENT TO THE SOIL — THE DISAPPOINTED PURCHASER — THE FAMILY THE TYPE OF FIJIAN GOVERNMENT — CODE OF ETIQUETTE AMONG THE FIJIANS — THE COURT LANGUAGE — THE “TAMA,” AND ITS MODIFICATIONS — MEETING A SUPERIOR — THE “BALEMURI” CUSTOM — THE POLITE NATIVE WHO DID NOT GET A MUSKET — HOW GREAT CHIEFS VISIT EACH OTHER — ORATORY, AND MODES OF GREETING — STRICTNESS OF THE CODE OF ETIQUETTE — THE YOUNG CHIEF AND THE GUANA’S TAIL — A FIJIAN FEAST — THE VAST OVENS, AND MODE OF MAKING THEM — PREPARATIONS FOR THE FEAST — ARRANGEMENTS FOR THE BANQUET — VARIETY OF DISHES — MODE OF DRINKING — HOW TO OPEN A COCOA-NUT — CANNIBALISM — THE KING THAKOMBAU — PRESUMED ORIGIN OF CANNIBALISM — NATIVE LEGEND — THE CANNIBAL FORKS — OPPORTUNITIES FOR HUMAN SACRIFICES — “TAKING DOWN THE MAST” — AN UNFORTUNATE MISTAKE.

Owing to the geographical nature of the Fiji group, which consists of seven groups of islands, some of them very large and some very small, the mode of government has never been monarchical, the country being ruled by a number of chiefs of greater or less importance, according to the amount of territory over which their sway extended. The various islands had in former days but little connection with each other. At the present time, more intercourse takes place, and in one instance the visit involves a singular and ludicrous ceremonial.

One of the gods belonging to Somo-somo, named Ng-gurai, went to visit Mbau a spot on the eastern coast of Viti Lemi, one of the greater islands, and to pay his respects to the god of that place. He was accompanied by a Vuna god named Vatu-Mundre, who gave him a bamboo by way of a vessel, and undertook to guide him on his journey. Ng-gurai then entered into the body of a rat, seated himself on the bamboo, and set off on his journey. After they had sailed for some time, Ng-gurai lost his way on account of wanting to call at every island which he passed, and at last, just as he arrived on the Mbau shore, he was washed off the bamboo and nearly drowned in the surf.

From this fate he was rescued by a Mbau woman, who took him into the chiefs house, and put him among the cooks on the hearth, where he sat shivering for four days. Meanwhile, Vatu-Mundre arrived at his destination, and was received in royal manner by the Mbau god, who tried in vain to induce him to become tributary to him.

After a proper interval, the Mbau god returned the visit of Vatu-Mundre, who had craftily greased the path, so that when his visitor became animated, his feet slipped, and he fell on his back. Vatu-Mundre then took advantage of his situation, and forced his visitor to become his tributary.

In consequence of this affair, the Mbau people pay a homage to the natives of Vuna, but indemnify themselves by exacting a most humiliating homage from the men of Somo-somo, though in fact Somo-somo is the acknowledged superior of Vuna.

Whenever a Somo-somo canoe goes to Mbau, the sail must be lowered at a certain distance from shore, and the crew must paddle in a sitting position. To keep up the sail or to paddle in the usual standing position would cost them their lives. As soon as they come within hearing of the shore they have to shout the Tama, i. e. the reverential salutation of an inferior to a superior, and to reiterate it at short intervals.

Arrived on shore, they are not allowed to enter a house, but are kept in the open air for four days, during which time they are obliged to wear their worst dresses, move about in a stooping attitude, and to say the Tama in a low and trembling voice, in imitation of the shivering rat-god. After the four days have expired, they may enter houses and dress in better clothes, but are still obliged to walk in a half-bent attitude. When a Mbau man meets one of these crouching visitors, he cries out, “Ho! Ho!” in a jeering manner, and asks the Somo-somo man whether his god is yet at liberty. The unfortunate visitor is then obliged to place his hand on his heart, stoop half-way to the ground, and say humbly that Ng-gurai is allowed his liberty.

Naturally disliking this oppressive and humiliating custom, the people of Somo-somo have of late years managed to evade it by means of foreign vessels. The custom of lowering the sail and paddling while seated was not binding on people of other countries, and so they contrived to visit Mbau on board of Tongan canoes, or, better still, English ship-boats.

Of late years the government has assumed a feudal aspect, the chiefs of large districts being considered as kings, and having under them a number of inferior chiefs who are tributary to them, and bound to furnish men and arms when the king declares war. According to Mr. Williams, the Fijians may be ranked under six distinct orders. First come the kings, and next to them the chiefs of separate large islands or districts. Then come the chiefs of towns, the priests, and the Mata-ni-vanuas, or aides-de-camp of the great chiefs. Next to them come the chiefs of professions, such as canoe building and turtle fishing, and with them are ranked any distinguished warriors of low birth. The fifth rank includes all the commonalty, and the sixth consists of the slaves, who are always captives.

As is often the case in countries where polygamy is practised, the law of descent passes through the female line, the successor of the king or chief being always the son of a woman of high rank.

The oddest part of Fijian political economy is the system of Vasu, or nephew—a system which may be described as nepotism carried to the greatest possible extreme. Mr. Williams’s description of the Vasu is very curious. “The word means a nephew, or niece, but becomes a title of office in the case of the male, who in some localities has the extraordinary privilege of appropriating whatever he chooses belonging to his uncle, or those under his uncle’s power.

“Vasus are of three kinds: the Vasu-taukei, the Vasu-levu and the Vasu;—the last is a common name, belonging to any nephew whatever. Vasu-taukei is a term applied to any Vasu whose mother is a lady of the land in which he was born. The fact of Mbau being at the head of Fijian rank gives the Queen of Mbau a pre-eminence over all Fijian ladies, and her son a place nominally over all Vasus.

“No material difference exists between the power of a Vasu-taukei and a Vasu-levu, which latter title is given to every Vasu born of a woman of rank, and having a first-class chief for his father. A Vasu-taukei can claim anything belonging to a native of his mother’s land, excepting the wives, home, and land of a chief. Vasus cannot be considered apart from the civil polity of the group, forming, as they do, one of its integral parts, and supplying the high-pressure power of Fijian despotism.

“In grasping at dominant influence, the chiefs have created a power, which ever and anon turns round and grips them with no gentle hand. However high a chief may rank, however powerful a king may be, if he has a nephew, he has a master, one who will not be content with the name, but who will exercise his prerogative to the full seizing whatever will take his fancy, regardless of its value or the owner’s inconvenience in its loss. Resistance is not to be thought of, and objection is only offered in extreme cases. A striking instance of the power of the Vasu occurred in the case of Thokonauto, a Rewa chief, who, during a quarrel with an uncle, used the right of Vasu, and actually supplied himself with ammunition from his enemy’s stores....

“Descending in the social scale, the Vasu is a hindrance to industry, few being willing to labor unrewarded for another’s benefit. One illustration will suffice. An industrious uncle builds a canoe in which he has not made half-a-dozen trips, when an idle nephew mounts the deck, sounds his trumpet-shell, and the blast announces to all within hearing that the canoe has that instant changed masters.”

The Vasu of a king is necessarily a personage of very great importance; and when he acts as delegate for the king, he is invested for the time with royal dignity. He is sent, for example, to other places to collect property, which is handed over to his king as tribute; and were it not for a check which the king has over him, he might be tempted to enrich himself by exacting more from the people than they ought to give. In this case, however, the Vasu is held amenable to the king, and should he exceed his proper powers, is heavily fined.

Taxes, to which reference is here made, are paid in a manner differing materially from the mode adopted in more civilized countries. In Europe, for example, no one pays a tax if he can possibly escape from it, and the visits of the tax-gatherer are looked upon as periodical vexations. In Fiji the case is different. People take a pride in paying taxes, and the days of payment are days of high festival.

On the appointed day the king prepares a great feast, and the people assemble in vast multitudes with their goods, such as rolls of sinnet, masi, whales’ teeth, reeds, women’s dresses—and often accompanied by their wearers—ornaments, weapons, and the like, and present themselves in turn before the king. Each man is clad in his very best raiment, is painted in the highest style of art, and displays the latest fashion in hair-dressing. With songs and dances the people approach their monarch, and lay their presents before him, returning to the banquet which he has prepared for them.

It is hardly possible to imagine a more animated scene than that which occurs when the tribute from a distant place is taken to the king, especially if, as is often the case, a valuable article, such as a large war canoe, is presented as part of the tribute. A fleet of canoes, containing several hundred people and great quantities of property, makes its appearance off the coast, and is received with great hospitality, as well may be the case. The king having seated himself on a large masi carpet, the principal chief of the tribute bearers comes before him, accompanied by his men bringing the presents with them in proper ceremonial, the chief himself carrying, in the folds of his robe, a whale’s tooth, which is considered as the symbol of the canoe which is about to be presented, and which is called by the same name as the canoe which it represents.

Approaching the king with the prescribed gestures, the chief kneels before him, and first offers to his master all the property which has been deposited on the ground. He then takes from the folds of his voluminous dress, which, as the reader may remember, is often several hundred feet in length, the whale’s tooth, and makes an appropriate speech. He compliments the king on the prosperity which is enjoyed by all districts under his sway, acknowledging their entire submission, and hoping that they may be allowed to live in order to build canoes for him. As an earnest of this wish, he presents the king with a new canoe, and, so saying, he gives the king the symbolical whale’s tooth, calling it by the name of the vessel. On receiving the tooth, the king graciously gives them his permission to live, whereupon all present clap their hands and shout, the cry of the receivers being different from that which is employed by the givers.

In the following illustration one of these animated scenes is represented.

Nearly in the centre is the king seated on the masi carpet, having his back to the spectator in order to show the mode in which the flowing robes of a great man are arranged. In front of him kneels the chief of the tax-paying expedition, who is in the act of offering to the king the symbolical whale’s tooth. One or two similar teeth lie by his side, and form a part of the present. In the distance is the flotilla of canoes, in which the tax-paying party have come; and near the shore is the new war canoe, which forms the chief part of the offering.

In the foreground are seen the various articles of property which constitute taxes, such as yams, rolls of cloth and sinnet, baskets, articles of dress, and young women, the last being dressed in the finest of likus, and being decorated, not only with their ordinary ornaments, but with wreaths and garlands of flowers. Behind the offering chief are his followers, also kneeling as a mark of respect for the king; and on the left hand are the spectators of the ceremony, in front of whom sit their chiefs and leading men.

Tribute is not only paid in property, but in labor, those who accompany the tax-paying chief being required to give their labor for several weeks. They work in the fields, they thatch houses, they help in canoe building, they go on fishing expeditions, and at the end of the stipulated time they receive a present, and return to their homes.

Should the king take it into his head to go and fetch the taxes himself, his visit becomes terribly burdensome to those whom he honors with his presence. He will be accompanied by some twenty or thirty canoes, manned by a thousand men or so, and all those people have to be entertained by the chief whom he visits. It is true that he always makes a present when he concludes his visit, but the present is entirely inadequate to the cost of his entertainment.

The tenure of land is nearly as difficult a question in Fiji as in New Zealand. It is difficult enough when discussed between natives, but when the matter is complicated by a quarrel between natives and colonists, it becomes a very apple of discord. Neither party can quite understand the other. The European colonist who buys land from a native chief purchases, according to his ideas, a complete property in the land, and control over it. The native who sells it has never conceived such an idea as the total alienation of land, and, in consequence, if the purchaser should happen to leave any part of the land unoccupied, the natives will build their houses upon it, and till it as before. Then as in process of time the proprietor wants to use his ground for his own purposes, the natives refuse to be ejected, and there is a quarrel.

The state of the case is very well put by Dr. Pritchard: “Every inch of land in Fiji has its owner. Every parcel or tract of ground has a name, and the boundaries are defined and well-known. The proprietorship rests in families, the heads of families being the representatives of the title. Every member of the family can use the lands attaching to the family. Thus the heads of families are the nominal owners, the whole family are the actual occupiers. The family land maintains the whole family, and the members maintain the head of the family.

“A chief holds his lands under precisely the same tenure, as head of his family, and his personal rights attain only to the land pertaining to his family, in which right every member of his family shares so far as on any portion of the land. But the chief is also head of his tribe, and, as such, certain rights to the whole lands of the tribe appertain to him. The tribe is a family, and the chief is the head of the family.

“The families of a tribe maintain the chief. In war they give him their services, and follow him to the fight. In peace they supply him with food. In this way, the whole tribe attains a certain collective interest in all the lands held by each family; and every parcel of land alienated contracts the source whence the collective tribal support of the chief is drawn. From this complicated tenure it is clear that the alienation of land, however large or small the tract, can be made valid only by the collective act of the whole tribe, in the persons of the ruling chief and the heads of families. Random and reckless land transactions under these circumstances would be simply another seizure of Naboth’s vineyard, for which the price of blood would inevitably have to be paid.”

Another cause of misunderstanding lies in a peculiar attachment which the Fijian has to the soil. When he sells a piece of land, it is an understood thing between the buyer and seller that the latter shall have the exclusive right of working on the ground, that none but he shall be employed to till the ground, or build houses upon it. The white settlers who understand the customs of the natives have accepted the condition, and find that it answers tolerably well. Those who are unacquainted with native ideas have often suffered severely for their ignorance, and, when they have brought a gang of their own workmen to put up a house on the newly purchased land, have been fairly driven out by armed parties of natives.

Mr. Pritchard narrates an amusing anecdote, which illustrates the working of this principle. A missionary had purchased some land according to the code of laws which had been agreed upon by the native chiefs and the colonists; all the natives who belonged to the family having been consulted, and agreed to the purchase. As a matter of course, they expected that the work of clearing the ground and building the house would be given to them. Being ignorant of this custom, the purchaser took some of his own people, but was immediately surrounded by a body of armed savages, who flourished their clubs and spears, and frightened him so much that he retreated to his boat, and made off. When he was well out of range, all those who had muskets fired them in the direction of the boat, as if to show that their intention was not to kill but merely to intimidate.

It will be seen from the foregoing passages, that the whole government of Fiji is a repetition of one principle, namely, that of the family. The head of a family is the nominal possessor of the land. All the members of the family use the land, and support their head, as a return for the use of the land. Districts again are considered as families, the chief being the head, and being supported by the district. The king, again, is considered as the father of all the chiefs, and the nominal owner of all the land in his dominions, and he is therefore entitled to be supported by the taxation which has been described. Practically, however, he has no more right to land than any other head of a family.

From the preceding observations the reader may see that a definite code of etiquette prevails among the Fiji islands. Indeed, there is no part of the world where etiquette is carried to a greater extent, or where it is more intimately interwoven with every action of ordinary life. If, for example, one man meets another on a path, both having, as usual, their clubs on their shoulders, as they approach each other they lower their clubs to their knees, as a token that they are at peace, and pass on. Retaining the club on the shoulder would be equivalent to a challenge to fight.

The leading characteristic of this code of etiquette is the reverence for the chief, a reverence which is carried to such a pitch, that in battle a chief sometimes comes out unhurt simply because his opponents were so much awe-stricken by his rank that they did not dare to strike him. Each superior therefore partakes of the chiefly character as far as his inferiors are concerned, and expects the appropriate acknowledgments of rank.

This extraordinary reverence is carried so far that it has invented a language of etiquette, no one with any pretensions to good breeding speaking in ordinary language of a chief, of a chiefs head or limbs, of a chiefs dress, or indeed of any action performed by a chief, but supplying a paraphrastic and hyperbolical phraseology, of which our own court language is but a faint shadow. The Tama, which has before been mentioned, is the right of a chief, and is therefore uttered by men of inferior rank, not only when they meet the chief himself, but when they come within a certain distance of his village. So elaborate is this code of ceremony that, discourteous as it might be to omit the Tama when due, it would be thought doubly so to utter it on occasions when it was not due. For example, the Tama is not used toward the close of the day, or when the chief is either making a sail or watching a sail maker at work; and if the Tama were uttered on any such occasion, it would be resented as an insult.

Passing a superior on the wrong side, and sailing by his canoe on the outrigger side, are considered as solecisms in manners, while passing behind a chief is so deadly an insult that the man who dared do such a deed would run the risk of getting his brains knocked out on the spot, or, if he were a rich man, would have to pay a very heavy fine, or “soro,” by way of compensation. The reason of this rule is evident enough. The Fijian is apt to be treacherous, and when he attacks another always tries to take him unawares, and steals on him, if possible, from behind. It is therefore a rule, that any one passing behind a superior is looked upon as contemplating assassination, and makes himself liable to the appropriate penalty.

If a man should meet a chief, the inferior withdraws from the path, lays his club on the ground, and crouches in a bent position until the great man has passed by. If, however, the two men should be of tolerably equal rank, the inferior merely stands aside, bends his body slightly, and rubs the left arm with the right hand, or grasps his beard and keeps his eyes fixed on the ground.

The act of giving anything to the chief, touching him or his dress, or anything above his head, or receiving anything from him, or hearing a gracious message from him, is accompanied by a gentle clapping of the hands. Standing in the presence of a chief is not permitted. Any one who addresses him must kneel; and if they move about, must either do so on their knees, or at least in a crouching attitude.

In some cases the code of etiquette is carried to an extreme which appears to us exceedingly ludicrous. If a superior fall, or in any other way makes himself look awkward, all his inferiors who are present immediately do the same thing, and expect a fee as recognition of their politeness.

Mr. Williams narrates an amusing anecdote of this branch of etiquette, which is called bale-muri (pronounced bahleh-moo-ree), i. e. follow in falling. “One day I came to a long bridge formed of a single cocoa-nut tree, which was thrown across a rapid stream, the opposite bank of which was two or three feet lower, so that the declivity was too steep to be comfortable. The pole was also wet and slippery: and thus my crossing safely was very doubtful.

“Just as I commenced the experiment, a heathen said with much animation, ‘to-day I shall have a musket.’ I had, however, just then to heed my steps more than his words, and so succeeded in reaching the other side safely. When I asked him why he spoke of a musket, the man replied, ‘I felt certain you would fall in attempting to go over, and I should have fallen after you (that is, appeared to be equally clumsy); and as the bridge is high, the water rapid, and you a gentleman, you would not have thought of giving me less than a musket.’” Ludicrous as this custom appears, it is based upon a true sense of courtesy, a desire to spare the feelings of others.

When one person of rank visits another, a number of ceremonies are performed in regular order. Should the visit be paid in a canoe, as is mostly the case, a herald is sent a few days previously to give notice of his coming, so as to avoid taking the intended host by surprise. As soon as the canoe comes in sight, a herald is sent out to inquire the name and rank of the visitor, who is met on the shore by a deputation of petty chiefs, headed by one of the Matas, or aides-de-camp. If the visitor be a personage of very high rank, the Matas will go ten miles to meet him.

As soon as the visitor and his retinue have reached the house of their entertainer, they seat themselves, and the host, after clapping his hands gently in token of salutation, welcomes them in a set form of words, such as “Come with peace the chief from Mbau,” or “Somo-somo,” as the case may be.

A series of similar remarks is made by both parties, the main point being that Fijian oratory is the driest and dullest of performances, always broken up into short sentences, without any apparent connection between them, and further hindered by the attitude of courtesy which the speaker has to adopt. It is impossible for the finest orator in the world to make an effective speech if he has to deliver it in a kneeling position, with his body bent forward, his hands holding his beard, and his eyes directed to the ground. In some parts of Fiji etiquette requires that the orator’s back should be toward the chief whom he is addressing. Nobody takes the trouble to listen to these speeches, or is expected to do so, the chiefs often talking over indifferent matters while the proper number of speeches are rehearsed.

The ceremonies on leave-taking are quite as long, as intricate, and as tedious; and, when the speeches are over, the two great men salute each other after the fashion of their country, by pressing their faces together, and drawing in the breath with a loud noise, as if smelling each other. A chief of inferior rank salutes his superior’s hand, and not his face.

When the visitors start upon their return journey, the host accompanies them for a part of the way, the distance being regulated by their relative rank. If they should have come by sea, the proper etiquette is for the host to go on board, together with some of his chief men, and to accompany his visitors to a certain distance from land, when they all jump into the sea and swim ashore.

As is the case in all countries, whether savage or civilized, the code of etiquette is rigidly enforced at meal-times. Even the greatest chief, if present at a banquet, behaves in as deferential a manner as the commonest man present. Though he may be in his own dominions, and though he may hold absolute sway over every man and woman within sight, he will not venture to taste a morsel of food until it has first been offered to him. Many years ago one chief did so, and, in consequence, the Fijians have hated his very name ever since.

So great would be the breach of manners by such a proceeding, that the life of the offender would be endangered by it. On one occasion it did cost the chief his life. He inadvertently ate a piece of cocoa-nut which had not been offered to him; and this insult so rankled in the mind of one of his officers, who was in attendance, that he ran away from his own chief, and joined another who was at war with him. A battle took place, the offending chief was worsted, and was running for his life, when he met the insulted officer, and asked for his assistance. The man was inclined to give it, but the insult could not be forgotten, and so, with an apology for the duty which he was called on to perform, he knocked out his former master’s brains with his club.

A still more astonishing instance of this feeling is mentioned by Mr. Williams. A young chief and his father-in-law were about to dine together, and a baked guana was provided for each. The guana is a lizard which has a long and slender tail. In passing by his relative’s guana, the young man accidentally broke off the end of its tail, which would necessarily be rendered brittle by cooking. This was held to be so gross an insult, that the offender paid for it with his life.

Etiquette is shown to its fullest extent when a king or principal chief gives a great banquet. As with the New Zealanders, such a feast is contemplated for many months previously; vegetables are planted expressly for it, and no one is allowed to kill pigs or gather fruit, lest there should not be a sufficient quantity of provisions.

Just before the day of festival, the final preparations are made. Messages are sent to all the neighboring tribes, or rather to the chiefs, who communicate them to the people. The turtle fishers bestir themselves to get their nets and canoes in order, and, as soon as they are ready, start off to sea. Yams and other root crops are dug up, the ovens made, and the fuel chopped and brought ready for use.

These ovens are of enormous size, as each is capable of cooking a number of pigs, turtles, and vast quantities of vegetables. With all our skill in cooking, it is to be doubted whether we are not excelled by the Fijians in the art of cooking large quantities of meat at a time. The ovens are simply holes dug in the ground, some ten feet in depth and fifteen feet or so in diameter.

The mode of cooking is very simple. A small fire is made at the bottom of the pit, which is then filled with firewood, and as soon as the wood is thoroughly on fire, large stones are placed on it. When the wood has all burned away, the pigs, turtles, and vegetables are laid on the hot stones, some of which are introduced into the interior of each animal, so that it may be the more thoroughly cooked. The oven is then filled up with boughs and green leaves, and upon the leaves is placed a thick covering of earth. The oven regulates its own time of cooking, for as soon as steam rises through the earthy covering, the contents of the oven are known to be properly cooked.

For the two or three days preceding the feast, all the people are full of activity. They take a pride in the liberality of their chief, and each man brings as many pigs, yams, turtles, and other kinds of food as he can manage to put together. The king himself takes the direction of affairs, his orders being communicated to the people by his Matas, or aides-de-camp. Day and night go on the preparations, the pigs squealing as they are chased before being killed, the men hard at work digging the ovens, some loosening the earth with long pointed sticks, others carrying off the loosened soil in baskets, while the flames that blaze from the completed ovens enable the workmen to continue their labors throughout the night.

On these occasions the Fijians dispense with their ordinary feelings respecting cooking. In Fiji, as in New Zealand, cooking is despised, and the word “cook” is used as a term of reproach and derision. In consequence of this feeling, all cooking is performed by the slaves. But on the eve of a great feast this feeling is laid aside, and every man helps to cook the food. Even the king himself assists in feeding the ovens with fuel, arranging the pigs, stirring the contents of the cooking pots, and performing offices which, on the following day, none but a slave will perform.

By the time that the cooking is completed, the various tribes have assembled, and the ovens are then opened and the food taken out. It is then arranged in separate heaps, a layer of cocoa-nut leaves being placed on the ground by way of dish. On the leaves is placed a layer of cocoa-nuts, then come the yams and potatoes, then puddings, and at the top of all several pigs. The quantity of provisions thus brought together is enormous. Mr. Williams mentions that at one feast, at which he was present, two hundred men were employed for nearly six hours in piling up the food. There were six heaps of food, and among their contents were about fifty tons of cooked yams and potatoes, fifteen tons of pudding, seventy turtles, and about two hundred tons of uncooked yams. There was one pudding which measured twenty-one feet in circumference.

Profusion is the rule upon these occasions, and the more food that a chief produces, the more honor he receives. One chief gained the honorable name of High Pork, because he once provided such vast quantities of food that before it could be finished decomposition had begun in the pork.

All being arranged, the distribution now begins, and is carried out with that precision of etiquette which pervades all society in Fiji. The various tribes and their chiefs being seated, the Tui-rara, or master of the ceremonies, orders the food to be divided into as many portions as there are tribes, regulating the amount by the importance of the tribe. He then takes the tribes in succession, and calls their names. As he calls each tribe, the people return their thanks, and a number of young men are sent to fetch the food. This goes on until the whole of the food has been given away, when a further distribution takes place among the tribes, each village first taking a share and then each family receiving its proper portion, which is handed to its head.

It is evident that the Tui-rara has no sinecure. He must possess the most intimate knowledge of all the tribes, and the ranks of their respective chiefs, and must at the same time be on the alert to distinguish any stranger that may make his appearance. Should he be a foreigner, he is considered a chief, and a chief’s portion, i. e. a quantity sufficient for twenty Fijians or sixty Englishmen, is sent to him. Of course he gives the greater part away, but in so doing he acts the part of a chief. It is, in fact, the old story of Benjamin’s mess translated into Fijian.

The men always eat their food in the open air, but send the women’s portion to the houses to be eaten within doors.

The first illustration on the next page will give an idea of a Fijian feast. On the left hand is seen the master of the ceremonies, calling the name of a tribe, and in the centre are seen the young men running to fetch the food. In the foreground is the portion of their tribe, consisting of pigs, yams, turtles, and so forth. In front of them are some of the curious drums, which will be presently described, and in the distance are seen the members of the different tribes, some eating, and others waiting for their portion. The curious building in the background is one of the Burés, or temples, which will be presently described.

From the preceding description it will be seen that the Fijians are not bad cooks, and that the number of dishes which they produce is by no means small. The variety of the dishes is, however, much greater than has been mentioned. They eat many kinds of fish, together with almost every living creature that they find in the coral reefs. Some of their preparations very much resemble those to which we are accustomed in England. For example, a sort of shrimp sandwich is made by putting a layer of shrimps between two taro leaves. Several kinds of bread are known, and nearly thirty kinds of puddings. Turtle soup is in great favor, and so are various other soups.

The Fijians even make sauces to be eaten with various kinds of food, the sweet juice of the sugar-cane being much used for this purpose. They also have a sort of an imitation of tea, infusing sundry leaves and grasses in boiling water, and drinking it when it becomes sufficiently cool. Most of their food is cooked; but, like ourselves, they prefer some food in an uncooked state. Small fish, for example, are eaten alive, just as we eat oysters.

They mostly drink water, or the milk of the cocoa-nut. To drink water in native fashion is not very easy. They keep it in long bamboo tubes, so that when it is raised to the lips the greatest care is required lest it should suddenly deluge the face and body.

Cocoa-nuts are opened in rather a curious manner. A stout stick is sharpened at both ends, and one end driven firmly into the ground. Taking the nut in both hands, the native dashes it on the stick, which splits open the thick husk, and allows the nut to be extracted. With a stone, or even with another cocoa-nut in case a stone should not be at hand, the native hammers away round the pointed end, and contrives to knock off a small round lid, which is then removed, leaving a natural drinking-cup in his hand.

We now come to the terrible subject of cannibalism, on which no more will be said than is necessary to illustrate the character of the people.

The Fijians are even more devoted to cannibalism than the New Zealanders, and their records are still more appalling. A New Zealander has sometimes the grace to feel ashamed of mentioning the subject in the hearing of an European, whereas it is impossible to make a Fijian really feel that in eating human flesh he has committed an unworthy act. He sees, indeed, that the white men exhibit great disgust at cannibalism, but in his heart he despises them for wasting such luxurious food as human flesh.

Even the Christianized natives have to be watched carefully lest they should be tempted by old habits, and revert to the custom which they had promised to abjure. For example, Thakombau, the King of Mbau, became a Christian, or at least pretended to do so. He was not a particularly creditable convert. Some time after he had announced himself to be a Christian, he went in his war canoe to one of the districts under his sway. He was received with the horribly barbarous ceremonial by which a very great chief is honored, conch-shell trumpets blowing before him, and the people shouting their songs of welcome. Thus accompanied, he walked through a double row of living victims—men, women, and children of all ages—suspended by their feet, and placed there to give the king his choice. The hopeful convert was pleased to accept the offering, touching with his club as he passed along those victims which seemed most to his taste.

The natives are clever enough at concealing the existence of cannibalism when they find that it shocks the white men. An European cotton-grower, who had tried unsuccessfully to introduce the culture of cotton into Fiji, found, after a tolerably long residence, that four or five human beings were killed and eaten weekly. There was plenty of food in the place, pigs were numerous, and fish, fruit, and vegetables abundant. But the people ate human bodies as often as they could get them, not from any superstitious motive, but simply because they preferred human flesh to pork.

Many of the people actually take a pride in the number of human bodies which they have eaten. One chief was looked upon with great respect on account of his feats of cannibalism, and the people gave him a title of honor. They called him the Turtle-pond, comparing his insatiable stomach to the pond in which turtles are kept; and so proud were they of his deeds, that they even gave a name of honor to the bodies brought for his consumption, calling them the “Contents of the Turtle-pond.” This man was accustomed to eat a human body himself, suffering no one to share it with him. After his family were grown up, he bethought himself of registering his unholy meals by placing a stone on the ground as soon as he had finished the body. His son showed these stones to an English clergyman, who counted them, and found that there were very nearly nine hundred.

One man gained a great name among his people by an act of peculiar atrocity. He told his wife to build an oven, to fetch firewood for heating it, and to prepare a bamboo knife. As soon as she had concluded her labors her husband killed her, and baked her in the oven which her own hands had prepared, and afterward ate her. Sometimes a man has been known to take a victim, bind him hand and foot, cut slices from his arms and legs, and eat them before his eyes. Indeed, the Fijians are so inordinately vain, that they will do anything, no matter how horrible, in order to gain a name among their people; and Dr. Pritchard, who knows them thoroughly, expresses his wonder that some chief did not eat slices from his own limbs.

Cannibalism is ingrained in the very nature of a Fijian, and extends through all classes of society. It is true that there are some persons who have never eaten flesh, but there is always a reason for it. Women, for example, are seldom permitted to eat “bakolo,” as human flesh is termed, and there are a few men who have refrained from cannibalism through superstition. Every Fijian has his special god, who is supposed to have his residence in some animal. One god, for example, lives in a rat, as we have already seen; another in a shark; and so on. The worshipper of that god never eats the animal in which his divinity resides; and as some gods are supposed to reside in human bodies, their worshippers never eat the flesh of man.

According to the accounts of some of the older chiefs, whom we may believe or not, as we like, there was once a time when cannibalism did not exist. Many years ago, some strangers from a distant land were blown upon the shores of Fiji, and received hospitably by the islanders, who incorporated them into their own tribes, and made much of them. But, in process of time, these people became too powerful, killed the Fijian chiefs, took their wives and property, and usurped their office.

In this emergency the people consulted the priests, who said that the Fijians had brought their misfortunes upon themselves. They had allowed strangers to live, whereas “Fiji for the Fijians” was the golden rule, and from that time every male stranger was to be killed and eaten, and every woman taken as a wife.

Only one people was free from this law. The Tongans, instead of being killed and eaten, were always welcomed, and their visits encouraged, as they passed backward and forward in their canoes, and brought with them fine mats and other articles for barter. So much have these people intermingled, that in the eastern islands, which are nearest to those of Tonga, there is a decided mixture of Tongan blood. With this exception, however, the Fijians went on the same principle as the Ephesians of Shakespeare—

save that, instead of merely putting to death those who came from one country, they only excepted one country from the universal law.

The reader may remember that a sort of respect is paid to a human body used for food. Educated people speak of it in the court language, and, instead of using any vulgar term, such as a human body, they employ the metaphorical language, and call it the “long pig.” As a general rule, the vessels in which human flesh is cooked are reserved expressly for that purpose, and both the vessel in which it is cooked and the dish from which it is eaten are held as tapu.

So highly is “bakolo” honored, that it is eaten, not with fingers, but with a fork, and the implement in question is handed down from father to son, like the merais and tikis of the New Zealander. These forks are quite unlike those which are used in England. They mostly have four prongs, but these prongs, instead of being set in a line, are generally arranged in a circle or triangle as the case may be. They are carved out of some very hard wood, and, when they have become venerable by reason of age or of the rank of their proprietor, they receive names of honor. For example, the cannibal chief who ate nearly nine hundred human bodies had a fork which was named “Undro-undro,” the title signifying a small person carrying a great burden. The fork was a small object, but it had carried to the lips of its master the bodies of nearly nine hundred human beings.

As the Fijians set such a value on human flesh, it is to be expected that they will invent a variety of excuses for obtaining it. For example when a chief builds a house, he kills at least one human victim to celebrate the event. If he builds a large war canoe, a series of sacrifices takes place. A man is killed, for example, when the keel is laid, and, if the chief be a very powerful one, he will kill a victim as each plank is fixed in its place. Even when it is finished the slaughter is not over, as, in the first place, the planks of the new vessel have to be washed with human blood, and, in the next, the launch must be commemorated in the same way as the building. One chief gained some notoriety by binding a number of men, and laying them side by side along the shore to act as rollers over which the canoe was taken from the land into the sea. The weight of the canoe killed the men, who were afterward baked and eaten.

Even after the canoe is launched, excuses are found for carrying on the system of human butchery. Whenever it touches at a place for the first time, a man must be sacrificed in honor of taking down the mast, this being done to show that the vessel means to make some stay at the place. If a chief should arrive in a new canoe, and keep up his mast, the people understand the signal, and bring on board a newly-slain victim, so that the mast may be taken down.

On one occasion, when a war canoe had been built at Somo-somo, the missionaries exerted themselves so successfully that the canoe was launched without the sacrifice of a single life. Eventually, however, their well-intentioned interference rather increased than diminished the number of victims. When the canoe arrived at Mbau, the chiefs were so vexed that it had reached them unhonored by human blood that they straightway attacked a village, killed some fourteen or fifteen men, and ate them in order to do honor to the ceremony of taking down the mast.

Sometimes, in order to secure a victim whenever one is wanted, the chiefs pick out secretly a certain number of men, and put them, so to speak, on the black list. Whenever a sacrifice is needed, all the executioners have to do is to find out how many victims are wanted, and then to go and kill the requisite number of the black-list men.

Whole towns are sometimes put on the black list, a curious example of which custom is given by Mr. Williams. “Vakambua, chief of Mbau, thus doomed Tavua, and gave a whale’s tooth to a Nggara chief, that he might at a fitting time punish that place. Years passed away, and a reconciliation took place between Mbau and Tavua, but, unhappily, the Mbau chief failed to neutralize the engagement made with the Nggara. A day came when human bodies were wanted, and the thoughts of those who held the tooth were turned toward Tavua. They invited the people of that place to a friendly exchange of food, and slew twenty-three of their unsuspecting victims.

“When the treacherous Nggarans had gratified their own appetites by pieces of the flesh cut off and roasted on the spot, the bodies were taken to Vakambua, who was greatly astonished, expressed much regret that such a slaughter should have grown out of his carelessness, and then shared the bodies to be eaten.”

The Fijian can seldom resist meat, and that he should resist “bakolo” could not be expected of him. In Mrs. Smythe’s “Ten Months in the Fiji Islands,” an amusing instance of this predilection is recorded. “A white man had shot and carried off a pig belonging to a Fijian, who, being a convert, went to a native teacher named Obadiah, and asked him to go to the delinquent and remonstrate with him. The teacher put on his black coat, went to the man’s house, and with much earnestness pointed out to him the iniquity of the deed, asking him how he would have liked it had a Fijian killed one of his own pigs. The man listened very respectfully, and allowed the error of his ways, acknowledging that the teacher had put the matter in a new light. ‘But,’ said he ‘the pig is now dead, and we cannot bring it to life again. Shall we throw it out and let it go to waste, or, as it is just baked, and you have not breakfasted, shall we not sit down, and you will ask a blessing?’

“Obadiah, taken by surprise by Q——’s penitence, and the compliment paid to his own clerical functions, and swayed perhaps a little by the irresistible love of all Fijians for roast pork, bowed his head, and reverentially said a long prayer, after which the two set heartily to work on the pig.” When the teacher went to the missionary to report his successful labors, he was quite astonished at being charged with complicity with the thief.