ridiculous, insomuch that although an amiable and docile people,
they never could see the Missionaries dispose of their legs in the
attitude of kneeling, or hear them begin a hymn in chorus, without
bursting into roars of irrepressible laughter. It is much to be
hoped that no member of this facetious tribe may ever find his way
to England and get committed for contempt of Court.
In the Tonga Island already mentioned, there are a set of
personages called Mataboos – or some such name – who are the
masters of all the public ceremonies, and who know the exact place
in which every chief must sit down when a solemn public meeting
takes place: a meeting which bears a family resemblance to our own
Public Dinner, in respect of its being a main part of the
proceedings that every gentleman present is required to drink
something nasty. These Mataboos are a privileged order, so
important is their avocation, and they make the most of their high
functions. A long way out of the Tonga Islands, indeed, rather
near the British Islands, was there no calling in of the Mataboos
the other day to settle an earth-convulsing question of precedence;
and was there no weighty opinion delivered on the part of the
Mataboos which, being interpreted to that unlucky tribe of blacks
with the sense of the ridiculous, would infallibly set the whole
Page 179
Dickens, Charles – The Uncommercial Traveller
population screaming with laughter?
My sense of justice demands the admission, however, that this is
not quite a one-sided question. If we submit ourselves meekly to
the Medicine Man and the Conjurer, and are not exalted by it, the
savages may retort upon us that we act more unwisely than they in
other matters wherein we fail to imitate them. It is a widely
diffused custom among savage tribes, when they meet to discuss any
affair of public importance, to sit up all night making a horrible
noise, dancing, blowing shells, and (in cases where they are
familiar with fire-arms) flying out into open places and letting
off guns. It is questionable whether our legislative assemblies
might not take a hint from this. A shell is not a melodious windinstrument,
and it is monotonous; but it is as musical as, and not
more monotonous than, my Honourable friend’s own trumpet, or the
trumpet that he blows so hard for the Minister. The uselessness of
arguing with any supporter of a Government or of an Opposition, is
well known. Try dancing. It is a better exercise, and has the
unspeakable recommendation that it couldn’t be reported. The
honourable and savage member who has a loaded gun, and has grown
impatient of debate, plunges out of doors, fires in the air, and
returns calm and silent to the Palaver. Let the honourable and
civilised member similarly charged with a speech, dart into the
cloisters of Westminster Abbey in the silence of night, let his
speech off, and come back harmless. It is not at first sight a
very rational custom to paint a broad blue stripe across one’s nose
and both cheeks, and a broad red stripe from the forehead to the
chin, to attach a few pounds of wood to one’s under lip, to stick
fish-bones in one’s ears and a brass curtain-ring in one’s nose,
and to rub one’s body all over with rancid oil, as a preliminary to
entering on business. But this is a question of taste and
ceremony, and so is the Windsor Uniform. The manner of entering on
the business itself is another question. A council of six hundred
savage gentlemen entirely independent of tailors, sitting on their
hams in a ring, smoking, and occasionally grunting, seem to me,
according to the experience I have gathered in my voyages and
travels, somehow to do what they come together for; whereas that is
not at all the general experience of a council of six hundred
civilised gentlemen very dependent on tailors and sitting on
mechanical contrivances. It is better that an Assembly should do
its utmost to envelop itself in smoke, than that it should direct
its endeavours to enveloping the public in smoke; and I would