Dr. David C.

Kimball, Cases in Human Resources, 1st Edition: Instructor Resource

Case Notes

Cases in Human Resource Management

1st Edition Kimball
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Chapter 4: Matching Employees and Jobs:

Job Analysis and Design
Case 4.2. Succession Planning: Developing Leaders at General Electric (GE)
Case Summary
Succession planning requires planning for a smooth transition from one key employee to another
in order to minimize disruption of the organization’s work. The classic case of succession
planning took place at General Electric (GE) in 2001. At that time, Jack Welch had been the
CEO at GE for 20 years. Welch had set a succession plan in place by the mid-1990s. He created
a list of 23 essential skills, characteristics, and qualities a CEO should possess. He would move
executives into different positions and strategic business units in an effort to cross train his
leaders in all areas of the company. Jack was left with eight candidates that were all very
qualified to run GE or another large corporation.

Case Analysis
Most of the examples in this casebook focus on the latest changes in human resource. However,
this case is a classic case that recalls the time that Jack Welch was the CEO at General Electric.
Although he was a brilliant strategist, he was quite harsh and wanted only the best people to lead
and work at GE. So, he set up a competitive race between the top eight qualified candidates.
Eventually, Jeff Immelt was selected and has done an excellent job which validated Welch’s
succession planning process as a classic management case for students to study for many years to
come.
Dr. David C. Kimball, Cases in Human Resources, 1st Edition: Instructor Resource
Case Notes

Sample Answers to Case Questions

1. Why do family businesses have to be as concerned as large corporations about
succession planning?
Answer: All organizations have to plan for the hand-off of the company to the next
generation. A family business might have the additional problem of not having an
offspring in the next generation. Or even with a few grandchildren in the waiting, they
might not be interested in running the family business.

2. Is succession planning part of forecasting human resources?

Answer: Yes. Just as we need to plan for recruiting and replacing lower and mid-level
employees—we also need to prepare for the changes in our executive leaders. The
process is really about balancing the supply of employees at all levels versus the demand
for their products.
3. Did Jack Welch place great value on human resources at GE?
Answer: The answer is yes. However, Welch could also be very critical of his employees.
The search for his successor showed he was willing to organize a competition to
challenge his executives to be the best they could be. Welch’s 10-80-10% performance
review system which tried to reward the top performers—but weed out the lowest 10% of
employees.

4. Why were the stretch assignments important to the selection of the new CEO at
GE?
Answer: Stretch assignments are used to see if the potential candidates can handle
increasingly difficult assignments. The term stretch is used because the potential
candidate has to extend their abilities to handle increasingly difficult situations. The
candidate that best handles the situations are often deemed to be the next CEO of the
company. Jack Welch wanted to make sure the next CEO could handle the
responsibilities of being the CEO of GE.

5. Find the CEO of a local company and determine how long he/she has been the
CEO.
Dr. David C. Kimball, Cases in Human Resources, 1st Edition: Instructor Resource
Case Notes

Answer: The goal of this question is to stimulate the students to learn about a CEO in
their local area. Answers should vary and it should be interesting to compare answers in a
class discussion.
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complexions being often as white as that of many Europeans. They are,
on the whole a singularly handsome set of people, the beauty not being
limited to the men, as is the case with so many savage tribes, but
possessed equally, if not to a superior extent, by the women. The portrait
of a daughter of a Tongan chief, on the 973d page, will verify this
statement.
The dress of both sexes is made of similar materials, but is differently
arranged. The fabric is called in the Tongan language “gnatoo,” and is
almost identical with the Fijian masi. It is made from the bark of the
same tree, and is beaten out in very similar fashion, except perhaps that
the Tongan women are more particular than those of Fiji in the care and
delicacy with which they beat out the bark with their grooved mallets.
The gnatoo varies somewhat in quality according to the island in which it
is made, that of Vavau being considered as the finest.
In putting on the gnatoo, there is nearly as much diversity as in the
arrangement of a Scotch plaid, and the mode in which it is arranged
serves to denote difference of rank. The most fashionable mode, which is
practised by the chiefs, is to wrap a portion of it round the loins in such a
manner that the folds allow fair play to the limbs, and then to pass the
remainder round the waist like a broad belt, and tuck the ends under the
belt in front of the body. The portion which forms the belt is so arranged
that it can be loosened at any moment and thrown over the head and
shoulder. This is always done when the wearer is obliged to be abroad in
the night time.
The gnatoo of the men measures about eight feet in length, by six in
width. Under the gnatoo is a belt made of the same material. Women
have a larger piece of gnatoo than the men, and arrange it in folds which
are as graceful as those of antique art, and seem as likely to fall off the
person. This, however, is never the case, and, even if the gnatoo were by
any accident to slip, the women wear under it a small mat or petticoat
about a foot in depth.
As this gnatoo plays so important a part in the clothing of the
Polynesians, its manufacture will now be described, the account being
taken from Mariner’s valuable history of the Tongans:—“A circular
incision being made round the tree near the root with a shell, deep
enough to penetrate the bark, the tree is broken off at that point, which its
slenderness readily admits of. When a number of them are thus laid on
the ground, they are left in the sun a couple of days to become partially
dry, so that the inner and outer bark may be stripped off together, without
danger of leaving any of the fibres behind.
 “The bark is then soaked in water for a day and a night, and scraped
carefully with shells for the purpose of removing the outer bark or
epidermis, which is thrown away. The inner bark is then rolled up
lengthwise, and soaked in water for another day. It now swells, becomes
tougher, and more capable of being beaten out into a fine texture.
“Being thus far prepared, the operation of too-too, or beating
commences. This part of the work is performed by means of a mallet a
foot long and two inches thick, in the form of a parallelopipedon, two
opposite sides being grooved horizontally to the depth and breadth of
about a line, with intervals of a quarter of an inch.
“The bark, which is from two to three feet long, and one to three
inches broad, is then laid on a beam of wood about six feet long and nine
inches in breadth and thickness, which is supported about an inch from
the ground by pieces of wood at each end, so as to allow of a certain
degree of vibration. Two or three women generally sit at the same beam;
each places her bark transversely upon the beam immediately before her,
and while she beats with her right hand, with her left she moves it slowly
to and fro, so that every part becomes beaten alike. The grooved side of
the mallet is used first, and the smooth side afterward.
“They generally beat alternately, and early in the morning, when the
air is calm and still, the beating of gnatoo in all the plantations has a very
pleasing effect. Some sounds being near at hand, and others almost lost
by the distance,—some a little more acute, and others more grave,—and
all with remarkable regularity, produce a remarkable effect that is very
agreeable, and not a little heightened by the singing of the birds and the
cheerful influence of the scene. When one hand is fatigued, the mallet is
dexterously transferred to the other, without occasioning the smallest
sensible delay.
“In the course of about half an hour, it is brought to a sufficient degree
of thinness, being so much spread laterally as to be now nearly square
when unfolded; for it must be observed that they double it several times
during the process, by which means it spreads more equally and is
prevented from breaking. The bark thus prepared is called fetagi, and is
mostly put aside till they have a sufficient quantity to go on at a future
time with the second part of the operation, which is called cocanga, or
printing with coca.
“When this is to be done, a number employ themselves in gathering
the berries of the toe, the pulp of which serves for paste (but the
mucilaginous substance of the mahoá root is sometimes substituted for
it); at the same time others are busy scraping off the soft bark of the
cocoa tree and the toodi-tooi tree, either of which, when wrung out
without water yields a reddish-brown juice, to be used as a dye.
“The stamp is made of the dried leaves of the paoongo sewed together
so as to be of a sufficient size, and afterward embroidered, according to
various devices, with the wiry fibre of the cocoa-nut husk. Making these
stamps is another employment of the women, and mostly women of
rank. They are generally about two feet long, and a foot and a half broad.
They are tied on to the convex side of half cylinders of wood, usually
about six or eight feet long, to admit two or three similar operations to go
on at the same time.
“The stamp being thus fixed, with the embroidered side uppermost, a
piece of the prepared bark is laid on it, and smeared over with a folded
piece of gnatoo dipped in one of the reddish-brown liquids before
mentioned, so that the whole surface of the prepared bark becomes
stained, but particularly those parts raised by the design in the stamp.
Another piece of gnatoo is now laid upon it, but not quite so broad,
which adheres by virtue of the mucilaginous quality in the dye, and this
in like manner is smeared over; then a third in the same way.
“The substance is now three layers in thickness. Others are then added
to increase it in length and breadth by pasting the edges of these over the
first, but not so as there shall be in any place more than three folds,
which is easily managed, as the margin of one layer falls short of the
margin of the one under it.
“During the whole process each layer is stamped separately, so that the
pattern may be said to exist in the very substance of the gnatoo; and
when one portion is thus printed to the size of the stamp, the material
being moved farther on, the next portion, either in length or breadth,
becomes stamped, the pattern beginning close to the spot where the other
ended. Thus they go on printing and enlarging it to about six feet in
breadth, and generally about forty or fifty yards in length. It is then
carefully folded up and baked under ground, which causes the dye to
become rather dark, and more firmly fixed in the fibre; beside which it
deprives it of a peculiar smoky smell which belongs to the coca.
“When it has been thus exposed to heat for a few hours, it is spread
out on a grass plat, or on the sand of the seashore, and the finishing
operation of toogi-hea commences, i. e. staining it in certain places with
the juice of the hea, which constitutes a brilliant red varnish. This is done
in straight lines along those places where the edges of the printed
portions join each other, and serves to conceal the little irregularities
there; also in sundry other places, in the form of round spots, about an
inch and a quarter in diameter. After this the gnatoo is exposed one night
to the dew, and the next day, being dried in the sun, it is packed up in
bales to be used when required. When gnatoo is not printed or stained, it
is called tappa.”
Various ornaments are worn by both sexes among the Tongans, among
which may be enumerated a kind of creeper, with flowers at intervals
along the stem. This is passed round the neck or the waist, and has a
singularly graceful and becoming appearance. The most valued ornament
is, however, that which is made of the ivory of the whale’s teeth, so cut
as to resemble in miniature the tooth itself. They are of different sizes,
varying from one inch to four inches in length, and strung together by a
cord passing through a hole bored in their thick ends.
These teeth are even more valued in Tonga than in Fiji, and a common
man would not dare to have one in his possession, knowing well that he
would assuredly lose his life on the very first occasion that offered the
slightest opportunity of an accusation. Once Finow, the King of Tonga,
was told of a whale which had been stranded on a little island inhabited
only by a man and his wife. When Finow reached the place he found that
the teeth had been removed, and ordered the man and woman into
custody on the charge of stealing them. Both denied that they had more
than two teeth, which they gave up, whereupon the man was
immediately killed with a club, and the woman threatened with a similar
fate. Under fear of this threat she produced two more teeth which she had
hidden, but, refusing to acknowledge that she knew of any others, met
with the same fate as her husband. Many years afterward the missing
teeth were discovered, the woman having buried them in the ground.
This anecdote shows the value in which whales’ teeth are held, the king
taking the trouble to go in person to claim them, and the woman allowing
herself to be killed rather than part with her treasures.
(1.) INTERIOR OF A TONGAN HOUSE.
(See page 981.)
 (2.) BURIAL OF A LIVING KING.
(See page 966.)

A good idea of the appearance of a Tongan woman of rank may be

obtained from the illustration No. 1, on the preceding page, which
represents the interior of a chief’s house, and part of his family.
In the foreground is one of the odd wooden pillows which are so much
in vogue throughout Polynesia; while one of the most conspicuous
objects is a roll of narrow matting, which is used for the purpose of
surrounding men and women of high rank as they sit on the floor. Within
it is seated the chief’s wife, in the graceful attitude adopted by the
Tongans, exhibiting the simple and really elegant folds of the gnatoo
dress. The reader will observe the apparent looseness with which the
dress is put on, the folds lying so loosely that they seem ready to slip
every moment. They are, however, perfectly tight, and there is not the
least danger of their slipping.
Within doors the children never wear any clothing until they are two
years old; but when they go out, their parents always wrap round them a
piece of gnatoo or tappa. The natives are exceedingly fastidious about
their dress, criticising every fold with minute care, and spending a
considerable time in arranging them. Even when bathing, they always
array themselves in a slight dress made for such occasions, going aside
for the purpose of exchanging the usual gnatoo for an apron of leaves or
matting. So disrespectful is utter nudity reckoned among the Tongans,
that if a man be obliged to undress near the spot where a chief is buried,
the leaf apron is worn while the dress is changed.
We now come to the various divisions of rank in Tonga, and the mode
of government. Ranks may be divided into two distinct orders, namely,
the religious and the civil. We must take them in this order, because
among the Tongans religious takes the precedence of civil rank.
By far the greatest man in point of rank is the T - . This word
literally signifies Chief of Tonga, and is given because the man who
bears it is the greatest man in Tonga, which is the chief of the whole
group of islands. The word does not represent a name, but a rank, the
family name being Fatagehi, and the rank passes downward by
legitimate descent. So great a man is the Tooi-tonga, that in his presence
no man may stand, but is obliged to sit down in the attitude of respect.
Even the king is not exempt from this law; and if he should happen to
meet the Tooi-tonga, he would have to squat down humbly until the great
man had passed by.
The Tooi-tonga stands alone in many particulars, and, according to our
ideas, he has plenty of dignity, but very little comfort, leading a life
somewhat like that of the spiritual Emperor of Japan. He has certainly
one advantage over his fellows: he does not undergo the operation of
tattooing, because there is no one of sufficiently high rank to draw the
blood of so sacred a personage. He is married after a manner peculiar to
himself, is buried in a peculiar manner, and is mourned in a peculiar
manner. He is so sacred, that in speaking of him another language is
used, many phrases being reserved expressly for the Tooi-tonga. These
are probably relics of an ancient and nearly lost language, as is the case
with the incantations of the New Zealand priests.
The reason for this extraordinary veneration is, that the Tooi-tonga is
supposed to be a direct descendant of a chief god who was accustomed
to visit the islands; but whether his female ancestor was a goddess or a
native of earth is an open question with the Tongans. In spite of all the
veneration which is shown to him, the Tooi-tonga has very little real
power, and in this respect is far surpassed by the king, and equalled by
many of the nobles.
 There is another chief, the V , who is also supposed to have a
divine origin, and is therefore held in higher veneration than any of the
chiefs, but is inferior to the Tooi-tonga. It is true that in his presence the
king has to sit on the ground in the attitude of humility, and that he is
considered a being next in rank to the great Tooi-tonga himself; but the
other marks of veneration, such as a separate language, and different
modes of marriage, burial, and mourning, are not paid to him; and in
power he is equalled by many of the chiefs.
Next in rank, but at a very great distance, come the priests. These men
receive their name from their capability of being inspired by certain
gods, and, except when actually inspired, have no special rank, and are
paid no honor except such as may belong to them as private individuals.
Mariner remarks that he never knew a case in which a priest was a chief.
The king occasionally becomes inspired, because there is one god who
cannot speak except by the royal mouth; but the king is not, in
consequence, considered as a priest. Neither are the Tooi-tonga and
Veachi considered as priests, nor is there any connexion between them
and the priesthood.
Should, in an assembly, a priest become inspired, he is immediately
held in the highest veneration as long as the inspiration lasts, because a
god is supposed to be speaking through his lips. If, on such an occasion,
the king should be present, he immediately leaves his place, and sits
humbly among the spectators. Even the great Tooi-tonga himself acts in
the same manner, and, though the descendant of a god, he retires before
the actual presence of a divinity.
So much for the spiritual rank, and we now pass to the temporal rank.
The highest man in a secular point of view is the H , or king, who is
the most powerful of all the chiefs, and yet may be in point of rank
inferior to the poorest of his nobles, or E . Rank is measured in Tonga
by relationship to the Tooi-tonga or Veachi, the relatives of the former
being held superior to those of the latter. The consequence is, that the
king may meet a poor man who has scarcely any power, and yet who is
so high in rank above the king that the latter must sit down till his
superior has passed. Should he not do so, or should he by any accident
touch anything that belonged to his superior, the tapu would assume its
sway, and he would not be permitted to feed himself with his own hands
until he had gone to his superior, and saluted him by touching his feet.
In consequence of these customs, the king avoids associating with
nobles who are his superior in rank, and they in their turn keep out of his
way as far as possible, so as not to humiliate him by making him sit
while they stand. Originally, the king was a descendant of the Tooi-
tonga, and thus was equally high in spiritual and temporal rank. But
when the throne was usurped by other families, the king still retained the
temporal power, though he yielded in spiritual rank to others.
Next to the king come the E , or nobles. These are all relations of
the Tooi-tonga, the Veachi, or the king, kinship to the king being held as
conferring rank because he holds the reins of power. Rank descends in
Tonga, as in other Polynesian islands, through the female line, so that all
the children of an Egi woman possess the rank of Egi, no matter who
may be the father.
After the nobles come the M , or councillors, who are the
companions and advisers of the chiefs, and take their rank from that of
the chief to whom they are attached. They are always the heads of
families, and are mostly men of mature age and experience, so that their
advice is highly valued. The eldest son of a Mataboole is carefully
trained to take his father’s place when he dies, and is thoroughly versed
in all the rites and ceremonies, the administration of laws, and the many
points of etiquette about which the Tongans are so fastidious. He also
learns all the traditionary records of his people, and by the time that he is
thirty years old or so is perfectly acquainted with his profession. But
until his father dies he has no rank, and is merely one of the ordinary
gentry, who will now be described.
Last of all those who possess any rank are the gentry, or M . All
the sons of Matabooles are Mooas, and act as assistants of the
Matabooles, aiding on great ceremonies in managing the dances,
distributing food, and so forth. Like their superiors, they attach
themselves to the service of some chief, and derive their relative
consequence from his rank. As a rule, the Mooas all profess some art,
such as canoe building, ivory carving, and superintending funeral rites,
in which three occupations the Matabooles also take part. They also
preside over the makers of stone coffins, the makers of nets, the
fishermen, and the architects, and all these employments are hereditary.
Just as the children and brothers of Matabooles take the next lowest
rank, that of Mooa, so do those of Mooas take the next lowest rank, and
are considered as T , or plebeians. In this case, however, the eldest
son of a Mooa assumes the rank of his father after his death, and is
therefore more respected than his brothers, who are regarded like
younger sons among ourselves. The Tooas do all the menial work, and
act as cooks, barbers, tattooers, club-carvers, and so forth. The two latter
occupations, however, as requiring artistic skill, are also practised by
Mooas.
It will be seen from this brief sketch how elaborate, and yet how
intelligible, is this system of the Tongans, even when complicated with
the double grades of spiritual and temporal rank. This respect for rank is
carried even into the privacy of home. If, for example, an Egi woman
marries a Mataboole, or a Mooa, she retains her original rank, which is
shared by all her children, so that both she and her children are superior
to the husband and father. He, on his part, has to play a double rôle. He is
master in his own house, and his wife submits to him as implicitly as if
he were of the same rank as herself. Yet he acknowledges the superior
rank both of his wife and children, and, before he even ventures to feed
himself with his own hands, he goes through the ceremony of touching
the feet of his wife or either of his children, in order to free himself from
the tapu.
When the case is reversed, and a man of high rank marries a woman of
an inferior station, she does not rise to the rank of her husband, but
retains her original station, which is inherited by her children, who,
together with herself, have to touch the feet of the husband whenever
they eat. They imagine that if they did not do so a terrible sickness would
consume them. When Mariner lived among the Tongans, he did not
trouble himself about the tapu, much to the horror of the natives, who
expected that the offended gods would wreak their vengeance on him.
Finding that he suffered no harm, they accounted for the phenomenon by
the fact that he was a white man, and therefore had nothing to do with
the gods of the Tongans.
In consequence of the strictness of this system, Finow, who was king
when Mariner lived among the Tongan islands, used to feel annoyed if
even a child of superior rank were brought near him, and used angrily to
order it to be taken away. Such conduct, however, would not be thought
right unless both parties were nearly equal in rank; and if, for example,
the Tooi-tonga’s child had been brought near the king, he would at once
have done homage after the customary fashion.
Some very curious modifications of this custom prevail throughout
Tongan society. For example, any one may choose a foster-mother, even
though his own mother be alive, and he may choose her from any rank.
Generally her rank is inferior to that of her adopted son, but even this
connection between them does not earn for her any particular respect.
She would be much more honored as an attendant of a young chief than
as his foster-mother.
 So elaborate and yet simple a system implies a degree of refinement
which we could hardly expect among savages. In consonance with this
refinement is the treatment of women, who are by no means oppressed
and hard-worked slaves, as is the case with most savage nations.
Consequently the women possess a gentle freedom of demeanor and
grace of form which are never found among those people where women
are merely the drudges of the men. So long ago as 1777, Captain Cook
noticed that the women were much more delicately formed than the men,
that they were beautifully proportioned, and that the hands were so small
and soft that they would compare favorably with the finest examples in
Europe and America. Hard and constant labor, such as is usually the lot
of savage women, deteriorates the form greatly, as indeed we can see
among ourselves, by comparing together a high-bred lady and a field
laborer. The two hardly seem to belong to the same race, or scarcely to
the same sex.
The Tongan women certainly do work, but they are not condemned to
do it all, the men taking the hard labor on themselves, and leaving the
women the lighter tasks, such as beating gnatoo, plaiting baskets, making
crockery, and the like. At the great dances, the women are not only
allowed to be present, but assist in them, taking as important a share as
the men, and infusing into the dance a really cultivated grace which
would not exist without them.
The light-colored hue of the skin, which has already been mentioned,
is much more common among the women than the men, for the reason
that the better class of women take more care of themselves than the
men; and, though all classes live for the most part in the open air, the
wives and daughters of powerful and wealthy men are careful not to
expose themselves to the sun more than is absolutely necessary, so that
many of them, instead of being brown, are of a clear olive tint, the effect
of which is singularly beautiful when contrasted with their dark
clustering hair, their gnatoo garments, and the leaves and flowers with
which they adorn themselves, changing them several times daily.
Altogether, a Tongan chief looks, and is, a gentleman, and his wife a
lady.
 CHAPTER C.
TONGA—Continued.
WAR AND CEREMONIES.

NATURAL MILDNESS OF THE TONGANS — BOASTING DISCOURAGED — WAR

APPARENTLY LEARNED FROM THE FIJIANS — FINOW’S SPEECH TO HIS
SOLDIERS, AND A NEW DISCIPLINE — FATE OF THE VANQUISHED — THE
DROWNED CHIEFS — CEREMONIES — KAVA-DRINKING — STRICT CODE OF
ETIQUETTE — PREPARATION OF THE KAVA — A GRACEFUL PERFORMANCE
— DISTRIBUTION OF THE KAVA — POINTS OF CEREMONY — A TONGAN
PLANTATION — SETTING THE YAMS — CEREMONY OF INACHI — THE POLE
BEARERS AND THEIR BURDEN — THE YAM PILLARS — LIFTING THE PIGS —
DISTRIBUTION OF PROVISIONS, AND CONCLUSION OF THE CEREMONY —
TOW-TOW, AND ITS OBJECT — PRESENTATION OF THE OFFERING — A
GRAND SCRAMBLE — BOXING AND WRESTLING MATCHES — GOOD-
HUMORED COMBATANTS — FIGHTS WITH CLUBS — THE SAMOAN AND
TONGAN RULES.

By nature the Tongans are gentle and kind-hearted, and present a most
curious mixture of mildness and courage. To judge by many traits of
character, they might be stigmatized as effeminate, while by others they
are shown to possess real courage, not merely the dashing and boastful
bravery which is, when analyzed, merely bravado, and which is only
maintained by the hope of gaining applause. The Tongan never boasts of
his own courage, nor applauds that of another. When he has performed a
deed of arms which would set a Fijian boasting for the rest of his life, he
retires quietly into the background and says nothing about it. His king or
chief may acknowledge it if they like, but he will be silent on the subject,
and never refer to it.
For the same reason, he will not openly applaud a deed of arms done
by one of his fellows. He will regard the man with great respect, and
show by his demeanor the honor in which he holds him, but he will not
speak openly on the subject. Mariner relates an instance in which a
young warrior named Hali Api Api, who seems to have been the very
model of a gentleman, performed a notable deed of arms, equally
remarkable for courage and high-minded generosity. During a council,
the king called him out, and publicly thanked him for his conduct. The
man blushed deeply, as if ashamed at this public recognition of his
services, saluted the king, and retired to his place without saying a word.
Neither did he afterward refer either to his exploit or to the public
recognition of it.
One warrior actually declared that he would go up to a loaded cannon
and throw his spear into it. He fulfilled his promise to the letter. He ran
up within ten or twelve yards of the gun, and, as the match was applied,
threw himself on the ground, so that the shot passed over him. He then
sprang up, and, in spite of the enemy’s weapons, hurled his spear at the
cannon, and struck it in the muzzle. Having performed this feat, he
quietly retired, and was never heard to refer to so distinguished an act of
courage, though he was greatly respected for it by his countrymen.
We need not wonder that such men should establish a moral influence
over the boastful but not warlike Fijians, and that the small colony
established in the Fiji group should virtually be its masters. Two hundred
years ago, the Tongan appears to have been ignorant of weapons and
warfare, and to have borrowed his first knowledge of both from Fiji.
Consequently, the Tongan weapons are practically those of Fiji, modified
somewhat according to the taste of the makers but evidently derived
from the same source. Captain Cook, who visited the islands in 1777,
remarks that the few clubs and spears which he saw among the Tongans
were of Fiji manufacture, or at least made after the Fiji pattern. Yet by a
sort of poetical justice, the Tongan has turned the Fijian’s weapons
against himself, and, by his superior intellect and adventurous courage,
has overcome the ferocious people of whom he was formerly in dread.
Since the introduction of fire-arms, the superiority of the Tongans has
made itself even more manifest, the Fijians having no idea of fighting
against men who did not run away when fired at, but rushed on in spite
of the weapons opposed to them.
It is possible that the Tongans may have learned this mode of fighting
from Mariner and his companions. When the king Finow was about to
make war upon a neighboring island, he assembled the warriors and
made them an address, telling them that the system of warfare which had
been previously employed was a false one. He told them no longer to
advance or retreat according as they met with success or repulse, but to
press forward at all risks; and, even if a man saw the point of a spear at
his breast, he was not to flinch like a coward, but to press forward, and at
risk of his own life to kill his foe. He also instructed them in the art of
receiving the onset of the enemy with calmness, instead of indulging in
cries and gesticulations, telling them to seat themselves on the ground as
the enemy approached, as if perfectly unconcerned, and not to stir until
ordered, even if they threw spears or shot arrows. But as soon as they got
the word to advance they were to leap to their feet, and charge without
regard to consequences. The reader may remember that this is exactly the
strategy which was employed in Africa by the great Kaffir chief Tchaka.
It may easily be imagined how such a course of conduct would
disconcert their opponents, and the Fijians in particular, with whom
boasting and challenging took the place of valor. Emboldened by the
apparent weakness of the enemy, they would come on in great glee,
expecting to make an easy conquest, and then, just when they raised the
shout of victory, they found themselves suddenly attacked with a
disciplined fury which they had never been accustomed to meet, and
were consequently dispersed and almost annihilated before they could
well realize their position.
Though tolerably mild toward their captives, the Tongans sometimes
display an unexpected ferocity. On one occasion, some of Finow’s men
surprised and captured four of the enemy, whom they imagined to belong
to a party who had annoyed them greatly by hanging on their track and
cutting off the stragglers.
At first they wished to take the prisoners home and make an example
of them, but the chief of the party suggested that they would have all the
trouble of guarding them, and proposed to decapitate them, and take their
heads home. One of them objected to the proposal on the ground that
they had no knives, but another man, fertile in expedients, picked up
some oyster-shells that were lying about, and suggested that they would
answer the purpose.
It was in vain that the victims protested their innocence, and begged
that at least they might be clubbed before their heads were cut off. The
conquerors coolly took off their dresses to prevent them being stained
with blood, and deliberately sawed off the heads of the captives with
their oyster-shells; beginning at the back of the neck, and working their
way gradually round. The reason for this course of action seemed to be
twofold—first, that they thought they might spoil the heads by the club;
and secondly, that as the heads must be cut off at all events, clubbing the
captives beforehand was taking needless trouble.
Indeed, the character of the Tongan presents a curious mixture of
mildness and cruelty, the latter being probably as much due to
thoughtlessness as to ferocity. Once when eighteen rebels had been
captured, Finow ordered them to be drowned. This punishment is
inflicted by taking the prisoners out to sea, bound hand and foot, and
towing some worthless canoes. When they are far enough from land, the
culprits are transferred to the canoes, which are then scuttled, and left to
sink. Care is taken that the holes made in the canoes are small, so that
they shall be as long as possible in sinking.
On that occasion twelve of the prisoners begged to be clubbed instead
of drowned, and their request was granted. The young men divided the
prisoners among themselves, being anxious to take a lesson in clubbing a
human being, which would serve them when they came to make use of
the club against an enemy. The twelve were, accordingly, despatched
with the club, but the others, being tried warriors, scorned to ask a favor,
and were drowned. The leading chief among them employed the short
time which was left him in uttering maledictions against Finow and his
chiefs, and even when the water came up to his mouth, he threw back his
head for the purpose of uttering another curse.
We will now pass to a more pleasant subject, namely, the various
ceremonies in which the Tongan delights. Chief among these is the
drinking of kava, which forms an important part of every public religious
rite, and is often practised in private. Kava drinking is known throughout
the greater part of Polynesia; but as the best and fullest account of it has
been obtained from Mariner’s residence in Tonga, a description of it has
been reserved for the present occasion. It must first be premised that the
kava is made from the root of a tree belonging to the pepper tribe, and
known by the name of Piper methysticum, i. e. the intoxicating pepper-
tree. Disgusting as the preparation of the kava may be to Europeans, it is
held in such high estimation by the Polynesians that it is never made or
drunk without a complicated ceremony, which is the same whether the
party be a large or a small one.
The people being assembled, the man of highest rank takes his place
under the eaves of the house, sitting with his back to the house and his
face toward the marly, or open space in front, and having a Mataboole on
either side of him. Next to these Matabooles, who undertake the
arrangement of the festival, sit the nobles or chiefs of highest rank, and
next to them the lower chiefs, and so forth. They are not, however, very
particular about the precise order in which they sit, distinctions of rank
being marked by the order in which they are served.
This is the business of the presiding Matabooles, and as the
distinctions of rank are most tenaciously observed, it is evident that the
duties of a Mataboole are of a most difficult nature, and can only be
learned by long and constant practice. If the men sat according to their
rank, nothing would be easier than the task of serving them in order. But
it often happens that a man of high rank happens to come late, and, as he
is too polite to disturb those of lower rank who have already taken their
places, he sits below them, knowing that his rank will be recognized at
the proper time.
It mostly happens, however, that when one of the presiding
Matabooles sees a man occupying a place much below that to which his
rank entitles him, he makes some one surrender his place to him, or even
turns out altogether a man who is seated in a high place, and puts the
chief into it. The people thus gradually extend themselves into a ring,
sometimes single, but often several ranks deep when the party is a large
one, every one of the members being a man of some recognized rank.
Behind those who form the bottom of the ring opposite the presiding
chief, sit the general public, who may be several thousand in number. It
is a remarkable fact, illustrating the rigid code of etiquette which prevails
among the Tongans, that no one can sit in the inner ring if a superior
relative be also in it; and, no matter how high may be his rank, he must
leave his place, and sit in the outer circle, if his father or any superior
relative enters the inner ring.
This ring, which constitutes the essential kava party, is formed mostly
of the sons of chiefs and Matabooles, and it often happens that their
fathers, even if they be chiefs of the highest rank, will sit in the outer
ring, rather than disturb its arrangements. Even the son of the king often
adopts this plan, and assists in preparing the kava like any of the other
young men.
Exactly opposite to the king is placed the kava bowl, and behind it sits
the man who is to prepare the drink. On either side of him sits an
assistant, one of whom carries a fan wherewith to drive away the flies,
and another takes charge of the water, which is kept in cocoa-nut shells.
The rank of the preparer is of no consequence. Sometimes he is a Mooa
or gentleman, and sometimes a mere cook; but, whoever he may be, he is
known to be able to perform his difficult task with sufficient strength and
elegance.
All being ready, one of the presiding Matabooles sends for the kava
root, which is then scraped quite clean and cut up into small pieces.
These are handed to the young men or even to the young women present,
who masticate the root, contriving in some ingenious way to keep it quite
dry during the process. It is then wrapped in a leaf, and passed to the
preparer, who places it in the bowl, carefully lining the interior with the
balls of chewed root, so that the exact quantity can be seen.
When all the kava has been chewed and deposited, the preparer tilts
the bowl toward the presiding chief, who consults with his Matabooles,
and if he thinks there is not enough, orders the bowl to be covered over,
and sends for more kava, which is treated as before. Should he be
satisfied, the preparer kneads all the kava together, and the Mataboole
then calls for water, which is poured into the bowl until he orders the
man to stop. Next comes the order to put in the fow. This is a bundle of
very narrow strips of bark of a tree belonging to the genus hibiscus, and
it has been compared to the willow shavings that are used in England to
decorate fire-places in the summer time. The assistant takes a quantity of
this material, and lays it on the water, spreading it carefully, so that it lies
equally on the surface of the liquid. Now begins the important part of the
proceeding which tests the power of the preparer.
“In the first place, he extends his left hand to the farther side of the
bowl, with his fingers pointing downward and the palm toward himself;
he sinks that hand carefully down the side of the bowl, carrying with it
the edge of the fow; at the same time his right hand is performing a
similar operation at the side next to him, the fingers pointing downward
and the palm presenting outward. He does this slowly from side to side,
gradually descending deeper and deeper till his fingers meet each other
at the bottom, so that nearly the whole of the fibres of the root are by
these means enclosed in the fow, forming as it were a roll of above two
feet in length lying along the bottom from side to side, the edges of the
fow meeting each other underneath.
 THE KAVA PARTY.
(See page 989.)

“He now carefully rolls it over, so that the edges overlapping each
other, or rather intermingling, come uppermost. He next doubles in the
two ends and rolls it carefully over again, endeavoring to reduce it to a
narrower and firmer compass. He now brings it cautiously out of the
fluid, taking firm hold of it by the two ends, one in each hand (the back
of his hands being upward), and raising it breast high with his arms
considerably extended, he brings his right hand toward his breast,
moving it gradually onward; and whilst his left hand is coming round
toward his right shoulder, his right hand partially twisting the fow, lays
the end which it holds upon the left elbow, so that the fow lies thus
extended upon that arm, one end being still grasped by the left hand.
“The right hand being at liberty is brought under the left fore-arm
(which still remains in the same situation), and carried outwardly toward
the left elbow, that it may again seize in that situation the end of the fow.
The right hand then describes a bold curve outwardly from the chest,
whilst the left comes across the chest, describing a curve nearer to him
and in the opposite direction, till at length the left hand is extended from
him and the right hand approaches to the left shoulder, gradually twisting
the fow by the turn and flexures principally of that wrist: this double
motion is then retraced, but in such a way (the left wrist now principally
acting) that the fow, instead of being untwisted, is still more twisted, and
is at length again placed on the left arm, while he takes a new and less
constrained hold.
“Thus the hands and arms perform a variety of curves of the most
graceful description: the muscles both of the arms and chest are seen
rising as they are called into action, displaying what would be a fine and
uncommon subject of study for the painter: for no combinations of
animal action can develop the swell and play of the muscles with more
grace and better effect.
“The degree of strength which he exerts when there is a large quantity
is very great, and the dexterity with which he accomplishes the whole
never fails to excite the attention and admiration of all present. Every
tongue is mute, and every eye is upon him, watching each motion of his
arms as they describe the various curvilinear lines essential to the
success of the operation. Sometimes the fibres of the fow are heard to
crack with the increasing tension, yet the mass is seen whole and entire,
becoming more thin as it becomes more twisted, while the infusion
drains from it in a regularly decreasing quantity till at length it denies a
single drop.”
The illustration on the preceding page represents this portion of the
ceremony. On the right hand is seen the presiding chief seated under the
eaves of the house, with a Mataboole on either side of him, and just
beyond him extends a portion of the inner ring. In front of the chief sits
the performer, who is wringing out the kava, and is just about to change
the grasp of his right hand, according to Mariner’s description. On either
side sit his assistants, both of whom are engaged in fanning away the
flies.
Near them lie the cocoa-nut shells from which the water has been
poured. Beyond the inner ring are seen the outer rings and the general
population, who have come to witness the ceremony and get their chance
of a stray cup of kava or some food.
When the fow ceases to give out any more fluid, a second and third are
used in the same manner, so that not a particle of the root remains in the
liquid. Should more fow or water be wanted, an order is given, and
twenty or thirty men rush off for it, going and returning at full speed, as
if running for their lives; and anything else that may be wanted is fetched
in the same manner.
While the operator is going through his task, those who are in the
outer circle and cannot properly see him occupy themselves in making
cups from which the kava can be drunk. These cups are made of the
unexpanded leaves of the banana tree, cut up into squares of about nine
inches across. The cups are made in a most ingenious manner by plaiting
up the two ends and tying them with a fibre drawn from the stem of the
leaf. The Mataboole then orders provisions to be served out, which is
done in an orderly manner. To the general assembly this is the most
interesting part of the ceremony, for they have but little chance of getting
any kava, and it is very likely that they will have a share of food, as the
regular kava drinkers never eat more than a morsel or two at these
entertainments.
The operator having done his part, now comes the test of the
Mataboole’s efficiency. The kava is to be distributed in precisely the
proper order, a slip in this respect being sure to give deep offence.
Should a visitor of rank be present, he gets the first cup, the presiding
Mataboole the second, and the presiding chief the third. If, however, the
kava be given by one of the guests, the donor always has the first cup,
unless there should be a visitor of superior rank to himself, in which case
the donor is ignored altogether, only having the kava according to his
rank. No person is allowed to have two cups from the same bowl, but
after all the inner circle and their relatives are served, the remainder is
given out to the people as far as it will go, and a second bowl is prepared.
It will be seen that, if the preparer be a man of low rank, he stands a
chance of never tasting the liquid which he has so skilfully prepared.
The second bowl is prepared in precisely the same way as the first,
except that the second presiding Mataboole gives the orders; and, if a
third or fourth bowl be ordered, they take the direction alternately. When
the second bowl is prepared, the cups are filled and handed round in
exactly the same order as before, so that those of high rank get three or
four cups, and those of lower rank only one, or perhaps none at all.
It is a point of etiquette that no chief ever visits the kava party of an
inferior chief, as in that case the latter would be obliged to retire from the
presidency and sit in the outer ring. When the Tooi-tonga presides, no
one presumes to sit within six feet of him; and if perchance an inspired
priest be present, he takes the presidency, and the greatest chief, or even
the king himself, is obliged to retire into the outer ring on such
occasions. A priest always presides at religious ceremonies, and the kava
party is held in front of the temple dedicated to the particular god which
they are about to consult. But in some cases a god has no priest, and in
those cases he is supposed to preside in person, though invisibly, the
president’s place being left vacant for him.
The reader will see from the foregoing account that kava is a luxury
practically confined to the higher classes. The great chiefs and
Matabooles drink it every day, either as presidents or members of the
inner ring. Those of lower rank obtain it occasionally; while the Tooas
seldom taste this luxury, except by taking the kava after it has been
wrung by the operator, and preparing it afresh.
As the reader will see, it is impossible to separate the secular and
religious life of the Tongans. They are inextricably woven together, and
therefore must be described together. There are a vast number of
ceremonies in which these two elements are united, one or two of which
will be described, by way of sample of the rest. The first is the festival of
Ináchi, a feast of firstfruits, a ceremony which in principle is found
throughout the whole earth, though the details necessarily differ. In the
present case, the offering is made to the Tooi-tonga, as being at once the
descendant and representative of the gods.
About the latter end of July the ordinary yams are planted in the
ground; but those which are intended for the feast of Ináchi are of a
different kind, coming to maturity earlier, and are planted about a month
sooner. In an illustration on the next page we may see how the yams are
set in the ground, and may get a good idea of a Tongan plantation. In the
centre of the foreground is the chief to whom the plantation belongs,
accompanied by his little boy. As is usual with men of rank in Tonga, he
bears in his hand a short, many-barbed spear, which may either be used
as a walking staff or as a weapon. The former is its normal use, but the
chiefs sometimes find the advantage of having with them a serviceable
weapon. The point of the spear is frequently armed with the barbed tail-
bone of the sting-ray. When Finow captured by craft the rebel chief
whose death by drowning has already been described, his chief difficulty
was the bone-tipped spear which the chief always carried with him, and
of which he was temporarily deprived by a stratagem.
One of his laborers is talking to him, having in his hand the hoe with
which he has been making holes in the ground for the reception of the
yams. Behind him are more laborers, employed in cutting the yams in
pieces, and planting them in the holes. Just beyond the yam plantation is
a piece of ground stocked with sugar-canes; and beyond the sugar-canes
is the house of the chief, known by the superiority of its architecture. The
house is built near the sea-shore, and close to the beach a canoe is seen
hauled up on its support.
The greater part of the illustration is occupied with the ingenious
spiked fence within which the storehouses and dwellings for the Tooas,
or peasants, are placed. As may be seen, it has no doors, but at intervals
the fence is only half the usual height and without spikes, and is crossed
by means of stiles, two of which are given in the illustration, one to show
the exterior and the other the interior of the fence. Close to the further
stile is a young tree, surrounded with a fencing to the height of several
feet, in order to guard it, while growing, from the attacks of pigs and
children.
The open shed is one of the peasants’ houses, under which are seated a
number of women, employed in making mats; while some children are
playing and fowls feeding by them. Toward the further end of the
enclosure is shown one of the storehouses.
As soon as the yams are ripe, the king sends a message to the Tooi-
tonga, asking him to fix a day for the ceremony, which is generally
settled to be on the tenth day after the request is made, so that time may
be given for notice to be sent to all the islands. The day before the
ceremony of Ináchi, the yams are dug up and ornamented with scarlet
streamers made of the inner membrane of the pandanus leaf. These are in
long and narrow strips, and are woven spirally over the yams, first in one
direction and then the other, so as to produce a neat checkered pattern,
and having the ends hanging loose.
All through the night is heard the sound of the conch shell, and until
midnight the men and women answered each other in a song, the men
singing, “Rest, doing no work,” and the women responding, “Thou shalt
not work.” About midnight the song ceases; but it is resumed at
daybreak, and continues until about eight . ., accompanied with plenty
of conch blowing. The prohibition of work is so imperative, that the
people are not even allowed to leave their houses, except for the purpose
of assisting in the ceremony.

(1.) TONGAN PLANTATION.

(See page 990.)
 (2.) CEREMONY OF INACHI.
(See page 993.)

At eight . . the ceremony of Ináchi really begins, the people

crowding from different parts of the Tooi-tonga’s island toward the
capital town, and canoes approaching in all directions from other islands.
All are in their very best, with new clothes and ribbons; while the men
carry their most beautiful spears and clubs. Each party carries the yams
in baskets, which are taken to the marly, or large central space of the
village, and there laid down with great ceremony. In the marly are ready
laid a number of poles, eight or nine feet in length, and four inches in
diameter, and upon them the men sling the yams, only one yam being
hung to the middle of each pole.
Meanwhile the great chiefs and Matabooles have gone to the grave of
the last Tooi-tonga, should it happen to be on the island, or, should he
have been buried on another island, the grave of any of his family
answers the purpose. They sit there in a semicircle before the grave, their
heads bowed and their hands clasped, waiting for the procession, which
presently arrives.
 First come two boys blowing conch shells, and advancing with a slow
and solemn step; and behind them come a vast number of men with the
yams. Each pole is carried by two men, one at each end, and, as they
walk, they sink at every step, as if overcome with the weight of their
burden. This is to signify that the yams are of such a size that the bearers
can hardly carry them, and is a sort of symbolized thanksgiving to the
gods for so fine a prospect of harvest. As the men come to the grave,
they lay the poles and yams on it, and seat themselves in order before the
grave, so that they form a line between the chiefs and the yams.
This part of the ceremony is shown in the lower illustration, on the
991st page. In the foreground are seated the chiefs and Matabooles, with
their clubs and spears, while the procession of pole bearers is seen
winding along from the far distance. Two of them have already laid their
yams and poles before the grave, and have seated themselves between
the grave and the circle of chiefs, while others are just depositing their
burdens on the same sacred spot. Standing by them are the two boys who
headed the procession, still blowing busily at their conch-shell trumpets.
In the distance, and on the left hand of the illustration, may be seen the
people seated in numbers on the ground.
One of the Tooi-tonga’s Matabooles then sits between the pole bearers
and the grave and makes an oration, in which he gives thanks to the gods
for their bounty, and asks for a continuance of it to their offspring, the
Tooi-tonga. He then retires to his former place, the men take up their
poles, and after marching several times round the grave, they return to
the marly and again deposit their loads, this time untying the yams from
the poles, but leaving the colored streamers upon them.
Here the whole of the people seat themselves in a large circle, at
which the Tooi-tonga presides, even the king himself retiring, and sitting
in the back ranks. Next the remainder of the offerings are brought
forward, consisting of mats, gnatoo, dried fish, and various kinds of
food. These are divided by one of the Tooi-tonga’s Matabooles into four
equal parts. One of these goes to the gods, and is at once taken away by
the servants of the different priests, and the remainder is shared by the
Tooi-tonga and the king, the latter, although of inferior rank, getting the
larger portion, because he has four times as many dependents to feed.
The proceedings are wound up with the kava drinking, which always
accompanies such ceremonies. While the infusion is being prepared, the
presiding Mataboole makes a speech to the people, explaining the right
that has just been concluded, and advising them to pay due honor to the
gods and their representative the Tooi-tonga.
 When this great potentate dies, there is a most extravagant feast,
which often reduces the people to a state of semi-starvation for a long
time, and sometimes threatens an actual famine. In such a case, the tapu
is laid upon hogs, cocoa-nuts, and fowls for seven or eight months, or
even longer, during which time none but the great chiefs are allowed to
touch them. Two or three plantations are always exempted, so that there
may be a supply for the great chiefs and for the various religious
ceremonies. At the expiration of the stated period, if the crops look well,
and the pigs and fowls have increased in due proportion, the tapu is taken
off with very great ceremony.
One of these ceremonies was seen by Mariner at the Hapai Islands,
and a very strange rite it turned out to be. It was held on two marlies, one
belonging to the Tooi-tonga and the other to the king. As if to
compensate for the limited diet of the previous month, food was piled in
abundance. On the Tooi-tonga’s marly were erected four square hollow
pillars, about four feet in diameter, and made of four poles connected
with matting. These were about fifty or sixty feet in height, and each of
them was crowned with a baked hog.
The king’s marly, which was about a quarter of a mile from the other,
was equally well supplied with food, only in this case the yams were
placed in wooden cars or sledges, and nearly four hundred half-baked
hogs were laid on the ground. The king having arrived, and the signal
given for beginning the proceedings, the young chiefs and warriors tried
successively to lift the largest hog, and at last, when all had failed, it was
lifted by two men and taken to the other marly. “In the meantime the trial
was going on with the second hog, which, being also found too heavy for
one man, was carried away by two in like manner, and so on with the
third, fourth, &c., the largest being carried away first, and the least last.
“The second, third, fourth, &c., afforded more sport than the others, as
being a nearer counterbalance with a man’s strength. Sometimes he had
got it neatly upon his shoulder, when his greasy burden slipped through
his arms, and, in his endeavor to save it, brought him down after it. It is
an honor to attempt these things, and even the king sometimes puts his
hand to it.”
The next part of the proceedings was the carrying twenty of the largest
hogs to the late Tooi-tonga’s grave, and leaving them there, while the
rest, together with the other provisions, were shared among the chiefs,
who in their turn distributed them to their followers, until every man in
the island gets a piece of pork and yam. The four great columns of yams
were given, one to the king, another to the Tooi-tonga, the third to the
Veachi and one or two of the very great chiefs, and the fourth to the
gods. The Tooi-tonga also took the cars of yams as a matter of tacit
though unacknowledged right. Kava drinking, dancing, and wrestling
concluded the ceremony; and as soon as the circle broke up, the tapu was
considered as annulled.
The twenty large hogs which were laid on the grave were left there for
several days; but as soon as they showed signs of putridity, they were cut
up, and divided among all who chose to apply for a share of the meat. By
right they belonged to the chiefs, but as they were able to procure fresh
pork for themselves, they preferred to forego their right, and divide the
tainted meat among the people.
The ceremony of Mo’ee-mo’ee, or taking off the tapu contracted by
touching a chief, has already been mentioned. The tapu is even
contracted by eating in the presence of a superior relation; but there is a
conventional way of getting rid of this tapu by simply turning the back
upon the superior, who is then considered as not being ceremonially in
the presence of the inferior. Should a man think that he may have
contracted the tapu unwittingly, he will not dare to feed himself until he
has gone to some chief, whose foot he takes and presses it against his
stomach. This rite is called the Fota, or pressing. Any chief can take
away the tapu contracted by touching an equal or inferior, but has no
power over that of a superior. Consequently, no one but himself can take
away the Tooi-tonga’s tapu; and this proved so inconvenient that
whenever the potentate went from his house, he left behind him a
consecrated bowl as his representative, and this was held to be equally
powerful in removing the tapu. The Veachi adopted a similar plan. It is a
remarkable fact that kava is exempt from all tapu, so that if even the
Tooi-tonga has touched a piece of kava root, the lowest cook may chew
it.
There is a ceremony which in principle somewhat resembles that of
Ináchi, though it is conducted after a very different manner. Just as the
Ináchi is an offering to the gods in general through the Tooi-tonga, so is
this ceremony, which is called the Tow-tow, a special thanksgiving to
Alo-Alo, the god of weather. It is begun in the early part of November,
when the yams are ripe, and is continued for some three months, at
intervals of eight or ten days.
All the islands of Tonga are divided into three distinct portions,
namely, the northern division, or Hahagi, the southern division, or
Hihifo, and the middle division, or Mooa. Each of these divisions has
orders to prepare a certain amount of food, such as yams, cocoa-nuts,
and the like, and to bring them to the marly. The correct mode of doing
so is to bring them on sticks, so that each stick has upon it seven or eight
yams, or a bunch of plantains, or a quantity of bananas. If sugar-canes
form part of the offering, they are tied in bundles of three or four in each:
and all the offerings, no matter what they may be, are piled up in three
great heaps, one being erected by the people of each district.
This being done, and a few preliminary matches of boxing and
wrestling played, after about three hours a small procession appears,
composed of eight or ten men sent by the priest of Alo-Alo, and
accompanied by a young girl about eight or nine years old, who
represents the god’s wife. She is always the daughter of a chief, and
generally of one of the highest chiefs, and, during the eighty days of the
ceremony, she resides at the temple of Alo-Alo. She has nothing
particular to do, except presiding at one or two feasts and kava parties.
The men are all dressed in mats, and have green leaves tied round their
necks. This is the dress of humility and sorrow, and is employed in times
of mourning for the dead and supplication for mercy. When they have
arrived, they seat themselves in a line, having in front of them a great
drum, which is kept for this special purpose. They then offer their
prayers to Alo-Alo, begging for propitious weather and good crops, and
after these prayers are concluded two of the piles of provisions are
carried off by the chiefs, and the third is set aside for the gods. Suddenly
the great drum is beaten, on which a general dash is made at the pile of
food, every one scrambling for the provisions, and getting as much as he
can. There is not the least order in the scramble, and the scene is a most
exciting one, the yams being torn from the sticks, and the sticks smashed
to pieces, while the sugar-canes are broken up into fragments. Thus the
gods are fed vicariously.
The women keep prudently out of the way during this struggle, and
stand aside to watch the chief and concluding ceremony. This is nothing
more than a general fight. The inhabitants of the island arrange
themselves in two divisions, one half fighting against the other. All
engage in this battle, the highest chiefs as well as the lowest cooks taking
part in it. There is no respect of persons, the king, or even the Tooi-tonga
himself, being assaulted without compunction, and handled as roughly as
any of the common people.
Severe as is the fighting, it is all conducted with the greatest good
humor, and no one displays a sign of ill-temper at the injury which he
receives. If a man is knocked down, he gets up with a smile; if his arm is
broken, he retires from the battle and has it set, but he never thinks of
complaining. The same system is observed in the boxing and wrestling
matches of which the Tongans are so fond.
In wrestling matches, for example, it is not thought polite for any one
man to challenge another; he ought to give a general challenge, by
striking with the right hand the bent elbow of the opposite arm. If the
challenge be accepted, the antagonists meet very leisurely, and take care
to fasten tightly the gnatoo belt that surrounds the waist. They grasp the
belt with a hand on each side, and endeavor to throw their antagonist by
lifting him from the ground and flinging him on his back. The
vanquished man rises and retires to his place among the spectators
without showing any displeasure. Only in one case did Mariner know a
man display ill-feeling at being beaten, and in that instance the man,
although a chief, was looked upon as an ill-bred fellow.
The victor seats himself on the ground for a few seconds, and then
retires to his place, his friends belonging to his own side singing, or
rather chanting, a song of victory. After a short time he again rises and
offers another challenge, and if it be accepted by several antagonists, he
may select one from them. If they find that they are equally matched,
they leave off by mutual consent; and sometimes, if a man encounters a
chief much superior to him, he will generally yield out of respect to the
other’s rank. This only takes place in single combat, not in the general
fight of the Tow-tow festival.
Boxing is conducted on similar principles of fair play. The challenger
proceeds into the middle of the ring, holding one arm stretched out in
front and the other behind, and advances sideways, changing sides at
every step. When the challenge is accepted, both combatants wrap a
piece of cord round their hands and proceed to blows, which are given
with great force and rapidity. When one is vanquished, he retires with
apparent unconcern to the ring, and sits to watch the combats of others,
knowing that to be vanquished is not considered a disgrace. When the
victor returns to his people, they welcome him, but do not sing the chant
of victory unless he has knocked his antagonist down. Falling is on these
occasions considered as equivalent to being killed in real battle, and, in
consequence, the song of victory is not sung unless the antagonist has
fallen to the ground. If a man be beaten in wrestling, he may not wrestle
a second time in the same day, though he may box, and vice versâ.
In the ceremony of Tow-tow, these scrambling, boxing, and wrestling
matches are carried on every tenth day, and are repeated eight times, so
as to make up the eighty days of the festival. After each battle, those who
have touched a superior chief come to be relieved of the tapu which they
have contracted by touching him. Even the Tooi-tonga, whose nose has
been flattened, his teeth knocked out, and his face pounded to a jelly by a
mere peasant, over whom he has supreme command of life and death,
performs the needful ceremony with perfect good humor.
The illustration No. 1, on the 999th page, represents the concluding
scene of this ceremony. In the foreground are seen the two contending
parties, one of which is beginning to get the victory over the other. In the
centre of the illustration, and on the left, are the fragments of the food-
piles, with a few men still scrambling for them, and in the distance the
women are seated under the trees, watching the progress of the fight.
Fighting is not confined to the men, but is practised also by the
women, who on this occasion lay aside the ordinary gentleness and
mildness for which they are remarkable. When Captain Cook visited
Tonga, he was much surprised to see the girls step into the ring and box
with as much spirit and determination as had been shown by the men.
They do not, however, carry the combat to such extremes, and if one of
them does not speedily yield, the combatants are parted by the elder
women. Even the merest children box after a similar fashion, the little
girls knocking each other about with hearty good-will as long as they are
allowed to fight.
On one occasion, Finow ordered that all the women who were seated
as spectators should engage in a general fight, after the manner of the
men. They seemed nothing loth, and all the women who lived on the
north of the island fought against those who lived on the south side.
Nearly fifteen hundred women engaged on each side, and fought with the
greatest courage for more than an hour, both parties contending with
such determination that neither could gain a foot of ground; and at last
Finow ordered them to desist, seeing that several ankles had been
sprained and limbs broken.
Besides boxing and wrestling matches, the Tongans have club fights
on great occasions. As with the other matches, the combatants are
divided into two parties, one being seated opposite to the other, with a
considerable space of ground between them.
When all is ready, a man jumps up, runs to the people of the opposite
side, and sits down in front of them, asking if any of them will fight him.
As in the boxing and wrestling matches, to challenge a particular
opponent is bad manners. If the challenge be accepted, the combatants
walk to the middle of the ring, each attended by his second, and then
settle whether they shall fight after the Tongan or Samoan manner. The