“Marnee Ora, Ora Marnee”
During the afternoon of the day of the diver’s decease, preparations
were making for paying the last rites to his remains, and carrying them
by torch-light to their sepulcher, the sea; for, as in Odo, so was the
custom here.
Meanwhile, all over the isle, to and fro went heralds, dismally
arrayed, beating shark-skin drums; and, at intervals, crying—“A man is
dead; let no fires be kindled; have mercy, oh Oro!—Let no canoes put to
sea till the burial. This night, oh Oro!—Let no food be cooked.”
And ever and anon, passed and repassed these, others in brave attire;
with castanets of pearl shells, making gay music; and these sang—
Be merry, oh men of Mondoldo,
A maiden this night is to wed:
Be merry, oh damsels of Mardi,—
Flowers, flowers for the bridal bed.
Informed that the preliminary rites were about being rendered, we
repaired to the arbor, whither the body had been removed.
Arrayed in white, it was laid out on a mat; its arms mutely crossed,
between its lips an asphodel; at the feet, a withered hawthorn bough.
The relatives were wailing, and cutting themselves with shells, so that
blood flowed, and spotted their vesture.
Upon remonstrating with the most abandoned of these mourners, the wife
of the diver, she exclaimed, “Yes; great is the pain, but greater my
affliction.”
Another, the deaf sire of the dead, went staggering about, and groping;
saying, that he was now quite blind; for some months previous he had
lost one eye in the death of his eldest son and now the other was gone.
“I am childless,” he cried; “henceforth call me Roi Mori,” that is,
Twice-Blind.
While the relatives were thus violently lamenting, the rest of the
company occasionally scratched themselves with their shells; but very
slightly, and mostly on the soles of their feet; from long exposure,
quite callous. This was interrupted, however, when the real mourners
averted their eyes; though at no time was there any deviation in the
length of their faces.
But on all sides, lamentations afresh broke forth, upon the appearance
of a person who had been called in to assist in solemnizing the
obsequies, and also to console the afflicted.
In rotundity, he was another Borabolla. He puffed and panted.
As he approached the corpse, a sobbing silence ensued; when holding the
hand of the dead, between his, the stranger thus spoke:—
“Mourn not, oh friends of Karhownoo, that this your brother lives not.
His wounded head pains him no more; he would not feel it, did a javelin
pierce him. Yea; Karhownoo is exempt from all the ills and evils of
this miserable Mardi!”
Hereupon, the Twice-Blind, who being deaf, heard not what was said,
tore his gray hair, and cried, “Alas! alas! my boy; thou wert the
merriest man in Mardi, and now thy pranks are over!”
But the other proceeded—“Mourn not, I say, oh friends of Karhownoo; the
dead whom ye deplore is happier than the living; is not his spirit in
the aerial isles?”
“True! true!” responded the raving wife, mingling her blood with her
tears, “my own poor hapless Karhownoo is thrice happy in Paradise!” And
anew she wailed, and lacerated her cheeks.
“Rave not, I say.”
But she only raved the more.
And now the good stranger departed; saying, he must hie to a wedding,
waiting his presence in an arbor adjoining.
Understanding that the removal of the body would not take place till
midnight, we thought to behold the mode of marrying in Mondoldo.
Drawing near the place, we were greeted by merry voices, and much
singing, which greatly increased when the good stranger was perceived.
Gayly arrayed in fine robes, with plumes on their heads, the bride and
groom stood in the middle of a joyous throng, in readiness for the
nuptial bond to be tied.
Standing before them, the stranger was given a cord, so bedecked with
flowers, as to disguise its stout fibers; and taking: the bride’s
hands, he bound them together to a ritual chant; about her neck, in
festoons, disposing the flowery ends of the cord. Then turning to the
groom, he was given another, also beflowered; but attached thereto was
a great stone, very much carved, and stained; indeed, so every way
disguised, that a person not knowing what it was, and lifting it, would
be greatly amazed at its weight. This cord being attached to the waist
of the groom, he leaned over toward the bride, by reason of the burden
of the drop.
All present now united in a chant, and danced about the happy pair, who
meanwhile looked ill at ease; the one being so bound by the hands, and
the other solely weighed down by his stone.
A pause ensuing, the good stranger, turning them back to back, thus
spoke:—
“By thy flowery gyves, oh bride, I make thee a wife; and by thy
burdensome stone, oh groom, I make thee a husband. Live and be happy,
both; for the wise and good Oro hath placed us in Mardi to be glad.
Doth not all nature rejoice in her green groves and her flowers? and
woo and wed not the fowls of the air, trilling their bliss in their
bowers? Live then, and be happy, oh bride and groom; for Oro is
offended with the unhappy, since he meant them to be gay.”
And the ceremony ended with a joyful feast.
But not all nuptials in Mardi were like these. Others were wedded with
different rites; without the stone and flowery gyves. These were they
who plighted their troth with tears not smiles, and made responses in
the heart.
Returning from the house of the merry to the house of the mournful, we
lingered till midnight to witness the issuing forth of the body.
By torch light, numerous canoes, with paddlers standing by, were drawn
up on the beach, to accommodate those who purposed following the poor
diver to his home.
The remains embarked, some confusion ensued concerning the occupancy of
the rest of the shallops. At last the procession glided off, our party
included. Two by two, forming a long line of torches trailing round the
isle, the canoes all headed toward the opening in the reef.
For a time, a decorous silence was preserved; but presently, some
whispering was heard; perhaps melancholy discoursing touching the close
of the diver’s career. But we were shocked to discover, that poor
Karhownoo was not much in their thoughts; they were conversing about
the next bread-fruit harvest, and the recent arrival of King Media and
party at Mondoldo. From far in advance, however, were heard the
lamentations of the true mourners, the relatives of the diver.
Passing the reef, and sailing a little distance therefrom, the canoes
were disposed in a circle; the one bearing the corpse in the center.
Certain ceremonies over, the body was committed to the waves; the white
foam lighting up the last, long plunge of the diver, to see sights more
strange than ever he saw in the brooding cells of the Turtle Reef.
And now, while in the still midnight, all present were gazing down into
the ocean, watching the white wake of the corpse, ever and anon
illuminated by sparkles, an unknown voice was heard, and all started
and vacantly stared, as this wild song was sung:—
We drop our dead in the sea,
The bottomless, bottomless sea;
Each bubble a hollow sigh,
As it sinks forever and aye.
We drop our dead in the sea,—
The dead reek not of aught;
We drop our dead in the sea,—
The sea ne’er gives it a thought.
Sink, sink, oh corpse, still sink,
Far down in the bottomless sea,
Where the unknown forms do prowl,
Down, down in the bottomless sea.
’Tis night above, and night all round,
And night will it be with thee;
As thou sinkest, and sinkest for aye,
Deeper down in the bottomless sea.
The mysterious voice died away; no sign of the corpse was now seen; and
mute with amaze, the company long listed to the low moan of the billows
and the sad sough of the breeze.
At last, without speaking, the obsequies were concluded by sliding into
the ocean a carved tablet of Palmetto, to mark the place of the burial.
But a wave-crest received it, and fast it floated away.
Returning to the isle, long silence prevailed. But at length, as if the
scene in which they had just taken part, afresh reminded them of the
mournful event which had called them together, the company again
recurred to it; some present, sadly and incidentally alluding to
Borabolla’s banquet of turtle, thereby postponed.