AN AMIABLE REVENGE

Whenever any one says to me that civilisation is a failure, I refer him
to certain records of Tonga, and tell him the story of an amiable
revenge. He is invariably convinced that savages can learn easily the
forms of convention and the arts of government--and other things. The
Tongans once had a rough and coarsely effective means for preserving
order and morality, but the whole scheme was too absurdly simple. Now,
with a Constitution and a Sacred Majesty, and two Houses of Parliament,
and a native Magistracy, they show that they are capable of becoming
European in its most pregnant meaning. As the machinery has increased
the grist for the mill has grown. There was a time when a breach of the
Seventh Commandment was punished in Tonga with death, and it was
therefore rarely committed. It is no rarity now--so does law and
civilisation provide opportunities for proving their existence.

On landing at Nukalofa, the capital of Tonga, some years ago, I naturally
directed my steps towards the residence of the British consul. The route
lay along an arc of emerald and opal shore, the swaying cocoa-palms
overhead, and native huts and missionary conventicles hidden away in
coverts of ti-trees, hibiscus bushes, and limes; the sensuous, perfume-
ladened air pervading all. I had seen the British flag from the coral-
bulwarked harbour, but could not find it now. Leaving the indolent
village behind, I passed the Palace, where I beheld the sacred majesty of
Tonga on the veranda sleepily flapping the flies from his aged calves,