A Footnote to History | Page 3

an
electorate in which the vote of each province is immediately effectual,
as regards itself, so that every candidate who attains one name becomes
a perpetual and dangerous competitor for the other four: such are a few
of the more trenchant absurdities. Many argue that the whole idea of
sovereignty is modern and imported; but it seems impossible that
anything so foolish should have been suddenly devised, and the
constitution bears on its front the marks of dotage.
But the king, once elected and nominated, what does he become? It
may be said he remains precisely as he was. Election to one of the five
names is significant; it brings not only dignity but power, and the
holder is secure, from that moment, of a certain following in war. But I
cannot find that the further step of election to the kingship implies
anything worth mention. The successful candidate is now the Tupu o

Samoa--much good may it do him! He can so sign himself on
proclamations, which it does not follow that any one will heed. He can
summon parliaments; it does not follow they will assemble. If he be too
flagrantly disobeyed, he can go to war. But so he could before, when he
was only the chief of certain provinces. His own provinces will support
him, the provinces of his rivals will take the field upon the other part;
just as before. In so far as he is the holder of any of the five NAMES, in
short, he is a man to be reckoned with; in so far as he is king of Samoa,
I cannot find but what the president of a college debating society is a
far more formidable officer. And unfortunately, although the credit side
of the account proves thus imaginary, the debit side is actual and heavy.
For he is now set up to be the mark of consuls; he will be badgered to
raise taxes, to make roads, to punish crime, to quell rebellion: and how
he is to do it is not asked.
If I am in the least right in my presentation of this obscure matter, no
one need be surprised to hear that the land is full of war and rumours of
war. Scarce a year goes by but what some province is in arms, or sits
sulky and menacing, holding parliaments, disregarding the king's
proclamations and planting food in the bush, the first step of military
preparation. The religious sentiment of the people is indeed for peace at
any price; no pastor can bear arms; and even the layman who does so is
denied the sacraments. In the last war the college of Malua, where the
picked youth are prepared for the ministry, lost but a single student; the
rest, in the bosom of a bleeding country, and deaf to the voices of
vanity and honour, peacefully pursued their studies. But if the church
looks askance on war, the warrior in no extremity of need or passion
forgets his consideration for the church. The houses and gardens of her
ministers stand safe in the midst of armies; a way is reserved for
themselves along the beach, where they may be seen in their white kilts
and jackets openly passing the lines, while not a hundred yards behind
the skirmishers will be exchanging the useless volleys of barbaric
warfare. Women are also respected; they are not fired upon; and they
are suffered to pass between the hostile camps, exchanging gossip,
spreading rumour, and divulging to either army the secret councils of
the other. This is plainly no savage war; it has all the punctilio of the
barbarian, and all his parade; feasts precede battles, fine dresses and
songs decorate and enliven the field; and the young soldier comes to

camp burning (on the one hand) to distinguish himself by acts of valour,
and (on the other) to display his acquaintance with field etiquette. Thus
after Mataafa became involved in hostilities against the Germans, and
had another code to observe beside his own, he was always asking his
white advisers if "things were done correctly." Let us try to be as wise
as Mataafa, and to conceive that etiquette and morals differ in one
country and another. We shall be the less surprised to find Samoan war
defaced with some unpalatable customs. The childish destruction of
fruit-trees in an enemy's country cripples the resources of Samoa; and
the habit of head-hunting not only revolts foreigners, but has begun to
exercise the minds of the natives themselves. Soon after the German
heads were taken, Mr. Carne, Wesleyan missionary, had occasion to
visit Mataafa's camp, and spoke of the practice with abhorrence. "Misi
Kane," said one chief, "we have just been puzzling ourselves to guess
where that custom came from. But, Misi, is