WE VISIT THE CAPITAL OF BLILLING, AND WITNESS SOME WIDOW-BURNING.
The tragic end of the late Chief delayed us more than a week, for,
as a matter of courtesy, we were obliged to remain till after the
funeral. As, however, like his ancestors, he had died a Mahomedan, his
obsequies--very different from others we were shortly to witness--were
performed, after the manner of that religion, without ostentation.
About the eighth day, when the new Chief considered it decent to admit
strangers to his presence, he sent for Prabu.
“O servant of the patriot Pangeran,” he said, “it is thy most earnest
desire to proceed to the palace of our royal master, the Rajah?”
“It is the command of my master, and if I live I must obey,” replied
Prabu.
“Know then,” said the Chief, “it is the duty of the vassal to notify
to his prince the death of his predecessor and his own accession: for
this purpose, two of my principal chiefs proceed in my state-prahu with
presents to the Rajah. Wilt thou accompany them?”
“Generous and gracious is thy offer, O Chief, and many are the thanks
of thy servant,” replied Prabu; and so the next morning, horses being
brought to our lodgings, we--at least all but Kati--had mounted and
were about to set forth for the river, which led to the capital of the
Rajah’s dominions, when Kati, after looking at his steed for a minute,
drew his creese, and rolled his eyes about very fiercely.
“Great Heaven! Martin--Prabu,” I cried, “he is about running a muck;”
and such, I believe, was his intention, had not his captain commanded
him to sheath his weapon and declare his grievance.
“The dog--the son of a burnt mother!” he exclaimed (pointing to the
slave who had brought the horses), “has sought to make me eat dirt--he
has given me a lamed mare;” at which great cause of passion, Martin and
I laughed. Not so, however, Prabu, who at once reprimanded the slave,
and ordered him to bring another horse; for, as we then for the first
time discovered, no greater disgrace can be offered to a man than a
_mare_ for a steed.
This little difficulty being got over, we rode forward through the
jungle until we reached the river, where we found a prahu, and the two
chiefs on board ready to receive us, which they did in a very friendly
manner. This vessel, although not built, like ours, for long voyages,
was large enough to hold, if necessary, nearly a hundred persons,
and arranged into various rooms--in fact, a kind of floating house,
in which the chief, attended by his retinue and the ladies of his
household, could take their pleasure for days together. As for the two
chiefs, men of very different ages, they were companionable, pleasant
personages enough, except when speaking of the Dutch, then they were
ferocious. Indeed, the eldest was one of the many natives of the island
we had met, who chronicled a vendetta in his heart against their
European conquerors.
It appeared that his father, a principal chief of one of the eastern
provinces, having risen in arms against the Dutch, and being defeated
and slain, he and an only brother, to whom he was passionately
attached, had been sold as slaves to one of the merchants of Batavia.
The merchant continuing, over a series of years, to treat the two
youths very cruelly, one of them, the brother, had in a moment of
desperation slain his master: for this crime he was condemned to death,
and his brother compelled to stand by and witness the execution.
It must have been a terrible sight, as indeed it must be a lasting
disgrace to a nation, both European and Christian, who could have
inflicted such a punishment. But let my readers judge for themselves
by the very words of a Dutchman, who, having witnessed one of these
executions, thus records it:--
“The punishments inflicted at Batavia are excessively severe,
_especially such as fall upon the natives_. I saw an execution of this
kind of a slave who had murdered his master, which was done in the
following manner: The criminal was led in the morning to the place of
execution, being a grass-plot, and laid upon his stomach, held by four
men. The executioner made a transverse incision at the lower part of
the body; he then introduced the sharp point of the spike, which was
about six feet long and made of polished iron, into the wound, so that
it passed between the backbone and the skin. Two men drove it forcibly
upwards along the spine, while the executioner held the end and gave
it a proper direction, till it came out of the neck and shoulders. The
lower end was then put into a wooden post and riveted fast, and the
sufferer was lifted up thus impaled, and the post stuck in the ground.
At the top of the post, about ten feet from the ground, there was a
kind of little bench, upon which the body rested.
“The insensibility or fortitude of the wretched man was incredible. He
did not utter the least complaint, except when the spike was riveted
into the pillar; the hammering and shaking occasioned by it seemed
to be intolerable to him, and he then bellowed out with pain, and
likewise, once again, when he was lifted up and set in the ground. He
sat in this dreadful situation till death put an end to his torments,
which, fortunately, happened the next day, about three o’clock in the
afternoon. He owed this _speedy_ termination of his misery to a light
shower of rain, which continued for about an hour, and he gave up the
ghost half-an-hour afterwards.
“There have been instances, at Batavia, of criminals who have been
impaled in the dry season, and have remained alive for _eight_ or
_nine_ days without any food or drink, which is prevented being given
them by a guard, who is stationed at the place of execution for that
purpose. One of the surgeons of the city assured me that none of
the parts immediately necessary to life are injured by impalement,
which makes the punishment the more cruel and intolerable, but that
as soon as any water gets into the wound it mortifies, and occasions
gangrene--which directly attacks the more noble parts, and brings on
death almost immediately.”
Speaking again of the slave, the same writer continues:--
“This miserable sufferer continually complained of insufferable thirst,
which is peculiarly incident to this terrible punishment. The criminals
are exposed during the whole day to the burning rays of the sun, and
are unceasingly tormented by numerous stinging insects. I went to see
him again about three hours before he died, and found him conversing
with the bystanders. This he did with great composure; yet an instant
afterwards he burst out in the bitterest complaints of unquenchable
thirst, and raved for drink, while no one was allowed to alleviate, by
a single drop of water, the excruciating torments he underwent.”
These are the kind of punishments meted out to a subjected race by
a _Christian_ people--a people, too, who have themselves known the
lash, the stake, the thumb-screw, and the thousand other devilish
inventions of torture adopted by the Governors of the tyrant Philip,
in the Low Countries, to suppress mental and political freedom. One
would have thought that their own great sufferings would have taught
them forbearance to others, but no! Scarcely had they burst their
own bonds, than, voyaging to the East, their insatiate thirst for
gold rendered them willing slaves to the strong, as in China and
Japan--tyrants to the weak, as in the Archipelago. Taking advantage of
the simple islanders, who received them with the warmest hospitality,
they commenced a series of small conquests; but finding themselves
called upon to exercise the functions of sovereigns and politicians,
these rapacious adventurers--too weak and incompetent to undertake
a conquest upon a grand scale, and by which it is possible the
natives then, settled under so many petty despots, might have been
benefited--had recourse to a policy of subtlety and intrigue, the
consequence of which has been continued wars, waste of human life,
and a mutual hatred between them and the natives, to the ruin and
destruction of the islands, and the great misery of their inhabitants.
Equally blamable are the Dutch in having neglected to teach their
Asiatic subjects the full value of their native soil and climate,
and for their shortsighted policy in keeping from them a knowledge
of American machinery, by means of which labor would have been made
a hundred times more productive, and the people prosperous. This is
especially exemplified, as we shall now see, in the present state of
the cotton manufactures in these islands.
For the greater part of our journey, we found the banks upon both sides
of the river covered with dense jungle: here and there, however, there
were extensive tracts of cleared land, upon which hundreds of women
were busily engaged.
“A glorious country for lazy men!--for it is only the women who labor
in the fields,” said Martin.
“Aye, they are picking cotton,” replied Prabu; and afterwards we
learned that Bali was famous for its production of cloth, and that the
labors of the loom, and the whole operation which the raw material
undergoes, from the moment it is brought from the field until it is fit
for apparel, is performed by women only. It is not very gallant, truly,
but then it only shows a rude state of society; for such was originally
the case among the great nations of Asia--the Arabians, Persians,
Hindoos, and Chinese, although, ages since, they have passed that era
in the art. Then their process of weaving is so rude and unskilful, and
consequently so expensive, that it is scarcely too much to say, that
Nature’s rich gift of a soil to produce the raw material seems wasted
upon them. But, as I have said, the shortsighted, avaricious Dutch
are to blame for this, for they might have introduced the American
processes, by which they would have no less enriched themselves
than the natives. Picture to yourself, my reader, such a substitute
for calico-printing as is described below, in a country over which
Europeans have ruled for nearly two centuries and a half!--
Of calico-printing the Javanese are entirely ignorant, but they have
a singular substitute. The part not intended to be colored, or that
which forms the ground in a web of cloth, they daub over with melted
wax. The cloth thus treated is thrown into the dyeing-vat, and the
interstices take the color of the pattern; if a second or third color
is to be added, the operation is to be repeated on the ground preserved
by the first application of wax--more wax is applied, and the cloth
is once, or oftener, consigned to the vat. The greater refinement
attempted, the more certain seems to be the failure. Moreover, this
awkward substitute for printing costs 100 per cent., at least, on the
price of the cloth; but notwithstanding the unskilful manufacturing
industry of the Javanese, it generally excels that of the other
islanders. The natives of Celebes and the people of Bali are the only
tribes besides that may be called considerable manufacturers of cloth.
But to return to my narrative. Upon reaching the capital, we were
visited by a _Bopartis_, or governor. This dignitary ordered us to
remain on board until he had reported our arrival, and its purport,
to the Rajah. That same night, however, he returned to the prahu,
with orders from the Rajah to conduct us to his own house, within the
_Karaton_, until his highness should be pleased to grant Prabu an
audience. But a few words about these buildings, for they are amongst
the most notable of the antiquities of Java and the immediately
adjacent islands.
These Karatons (residences of princes) are, in fact, walled
cities;--the palace occupying the center of the town, and being
surrounded on all sides by the habitations of the attendants,
retainers, and followers of the prince and the members of his family.
The empty spaces are occupied by the prince’s gardens, and by tanks and
ponds. The area is intersected by an endless labyrinth of walls, the
whole being concealed, at any considerable distance, by a profusion of
ornamental and fruit trees. The great approach to the Karaton is to the
north, and through a square or court of considerable extent, called the
_alun-alun_, a constant appendage of every Javanese palace. It is in
this open space that the sovereigns, once in eight days, in conformity
to Oriental usage, show themselves to their subjects. Here all
tournaments are exhibited; all public processions are formed; and here
the retainers of the nobles wait, while the chiefs themselves pay their
respects to the sovereign. A row of Indian fig-trees adorns the sides
of the square; and in the center, each surrounded by a wall, are to be
invariably seen two great trees of the same kind, the space between
which is that allotted for public executions. These trees, by the way,
are considered almost sacred, and may be looked upon as remnants of
Buddhism; for the Indian fig-tree is consecrated by the followers of
that sect. Wherever they are found, even in the most desolate parts
of the country, we are able to trace the palace or dwelling of some
ancient chief or prince.
After passing through the great square, we arrive at the _Paseban_,
a place shaded by a canopy, supported on pillars, and intended to
afford temporary accommodation to the nobility while they await to be
summoned into the presence. From the _Paseban_, a spacious flight of
steps brings us to the _Sitingil_, a handsome terrace, in the center of
which is one of the usual _Pandrapa_. It is here the sovereign seats
himself at all public festivals--occasions when a degree of barbaric
magnificence is displayed, that approaches to those dreams of Eastern
grandeur which the minds of Europeans imbibe from books, but which
are soon dissipated by an experience of the tameness of the reality.
From the _Sitingil_ the visitor descends by another stair, parallel to
that by which he has entered, and, by a variety of winding passages,
is conveyed through a series of gates and brought in succession to the
different palaces of the prince, each dignified by pompous epithets,
drawn from the copiousness of an exuberant language.
Well, it was in a spacious residence belonging to the Bopartis, in the
Karaton, that we found ourselves comfortably lodged and awaiting the
promised audience. Upon the morning of the third day, as Prabu, my
brother and I were squatting upon our mats partaking the morning meal,
we were aroused by the most terrible discord--howling of women and men.
Martin and I ran to the veranda: the open space before the house was
filled with people--not a stationary crowd, but a moving throng, all
groaning, shrieking, and screaming as they passed along.
“What on earth is the meaning of all this?” said I.
“Whose chimney is on fire? you mean, Claud. I’ll be bound it is not
anything much more terrible,” replied Martin, with a laugh, which,
by the way, was forced; for afterwards he confessed that he had some
notion of a rebellion and general massacre--no very uncommon occurrence
in the East.
“God is great!” exclaimed Prabu; “some sudden calamity has happened,”
and he left the house to inquire. We followed, and coming up to a bevy
of men and women, shrieking, crying, beating their breasts and tearing
their hair, asked them the reason of the noise.
“Siva hath visited the city with vengeance for its sins! Our mother is
called away.”
“_Their mother!_” said the incorrigible Martin to me. “The old lady
must have had a large family!” But Prabu, overhearing the words, said,
quite seriously:
“Truly, sahib, she had a large family; nearly the whole people of Bali
were her children, and to them she was a good mother.”
“What mean you?” I asked; “that the Queen is dead?”
“Alas! sahib, it is so: the good and heroic Ratu Wandan Savi died
suddenly during the night.”
“And so spoiled our breakfast,” replied Martin.
“Shame, brother! Speak not thus flippantly of so serious a matter,”
said I, angrily.
“Why surely, old Claud, you wouldn’t have me, a Christian, go howling
and shrieking about the streets, like a half-tamed wild beast, for
the death of a person I never saw! You might as well expect me to go
into mourning for a Queen of the Cannibal Islands. But,” he added,
seriously, “Prabu, tell us who and what was this Queen, whom you call
both good and great?”
“Towards the latter part of his reign, the late Rajah, being at war
with the Prince of Gelgel, suffered a great defeat; and notwithstanding
the bravery of his son, the present Rajah, who commanded the army,
would have lost his dominions, for the Gelgel Rajah had already invaded
them; but his niece, the Ratu, then a princess, presented herself
before the troops accoutered as a warrior, spoke of the bravery of her
ancestors, harangued them, distributed gifts, and put herself at their
head. This reviving their courage and spirits, the soldiers fought like
lions, and succeeded in destroying the invading army and taking the
Prince of Gelgel and his family prisoners.”
“A plucky girl that!” said Martin--“a kind of Balinese Joan-of-Arc. Of
course the Rajah married her; I would if I had been he.”
“The Rajah married her to his son, Sahib Martin,” said Prabu.
“A very proper promotion, too! I hope he deserved her.”
“He did: she has ever since been his chief wife and queen.”
“Well, that’s something, certainly; but if I had been the princess, I
should have expected, after all I had done, to have been his _only_
one. But, anyhow, it is a good story, if only for being the first I
have heard in which the Dutch are not mixed up.”
“But _they were_, sahib,” said Prabu. “It was the Hollanders who
incited the Prince of Gelgel to war against the Rajah of Blilling.”
“Well,” cried Martin, at random--for he was, as it were, caught in his
own trap--“thank Heaven, _I_ am no Dutchman!”
“Allah be praised you are not!--for then Prabu could not have
befriended thee, even at thy utmost need,” replied our companion. “But,
sahibs,” he added, “the good Queen’s death happening at this time is
especially unfortunate.”
“Why more at this time than any other?” I asked.
“Because, sahib, the Rajah will grant no audience until after the
funeral, and that cannot, according to custom, take place in less than
one month and seven days.”
“Whew!” whistled Martin; “a pretty time to be cooped up here! How shall
we pass our time?”
“Take to the woods or the river, and employ ourselves with our guns,”
I suggested; and so we did, day by day, but for all that the time
hung heavily upon our hands. As for Kati, Prabu sent him back to the
prahu; for, for some reason unknown to us, he had no great faith in the
honesty of the young chief Mahomed.
A few mornings after this, as my brother and I, accompanied by Prabu,
were passing through the principal street on our way to the jungle, we
encountered a procession that somewhat startled us--at least Martin and
me. It consisted of twenty litters, in each of which sat a young woman
attired in white, and accompanied by an aged attendant of the same
sex. The appearance of the two was contrasted; for whereas the girls
looked as joyful as if going to a wedding, the old ladies looked as
dismal as if they were attending a funeral. There was also a band of
musicians in the rear, playing a very lively air.
“Strange,” I remarked, “that such doings should be permitted at a time
of public mourning!”
“Sahib, these women are the chief mourners for the late Queen: they
were her slaves, devoted to her through life--they will accompany her
in death. Yesterday, the whole of the Queen’s women sought the Rajah,
and earnestly, and in tears, besought his permission to accompany their
mistress to the next world: from among the applicants his Highness
selected these.”
“Ah!” I exclaimed, with a shudder; “I had forgotten they are Hindoos.”
Of course my reader has heard of suttee or widow-burning, so long
practiced in our Indian Empire, but now, to a great extent, suppressed
by the English Government. Well, that inhuman rite has never prevailed
on the continent of India to the same extent as among the islanders,
amongst whom, indeed, it is supposed to have had its origin.
When a prince or princess of the royal family dies, their women or
slaves walk around the body, uttering cries and frightful howlings,
and all begging to die for their master or mistress. The Rajah, on
the following day, designates, one by one, those of whom he makes
choice for the _privilege_, as had been the case with the twenty poor
creatures in that procession. From that moment to the last of their
lives, they are daily conducted, at an early hour, without the town, to
perform their devotions, having their feet wrapped in white linen; for
it is no more permitted to them to touch the bare earth, because they
are considered as consecrated. The old women who accompany them are for
the purpose of fanning the flame of their enthusiasm, and to keep them
from wavering as the hour of death draws nigh. The night before the day
of execution these poor creatures are made to pass in continual dancing
and rejoicing, without being permitted to close an eye. All pains are
taken to give them whatever tends to the gratification of their senses,
and from the quantity of wine which they take, few objects are capable
of terrifying their imaginations. Besides, their minds are inflamed
by the promises of their priests, and their mistaken notions of the
joys of another state of existence. How strongly this reminds one of
the Aztec festival, in honor of Tezcatlipoca (the Mexican Jupiter),
only in the latter the ghastly mockery of state and happiness was
kept up by the victim for twelve months before he was butchered upon
the sacrificial stone, to be afterwards served up, with the rarest of
condiments, at the tables of the priests and nobles!
But if, day after day, for the prescribed period of mourning, we
were shocked at this procession, now that we knew its intent, how
shall I describe our feelings at witnessing the sacrifices! But my
readers shall judge for themselves. About noon, on the day appointed
for the funeral, the procession started from the palace. First came
the twenty doomed girls, in the order according to their rank in
the deceased’s household, each in an elegantly-constructed _badi_
or litter, bedecked with flowers, and followed by an aged woman,
who would, from time to time, endeavor to fan the perhaps now dying
flames of enthusiasm;--then, priests, bearing roasted viands, rice,
and betelnut, as offerings to the gods, followed by musicians, playing
triumphant tunes. So they moved onward, until they arrived at the place
of sacrifice. Here there were twenty scaffolds, in the form of troughs,
each raised upon four poles, and edged in on two sides with planks.
The victims having arrived, they were thrice carried round a circle.
After this, the sufferers were placed in troughs, which was the signal
for the approach of a man and a woman to each: the former, snatching
the flowers which bedecked the girls, held them above their heads with
pieces of the offerings to the gods, which the women posted behind them
snatched from their hands and threw upon the ground. Then a priest
let loose a pigeon, _as an emblem that their victims’ souls were on
the point of taking their flight to the mansions of the blessed_! At
this moment there was a solemn and mournful silence; but amongst the
victims, not a lip quivered, not a muscle moved; but you could see the
bosoms heaving beneath the white robes, and, I fancied, could hear the
beating of their hearts. There were wet eyes, and sobs, too; but it
was from their relations in the crowd, whose natural affections could
not be entirely subdued, even by these dire superstitions.
Suddenly, at a signal from the chief priest, four powerful men ran up
to one of the victims, and divested her of all her garments but the
sash; then two seized her arms, the other two her feet, so as to extend
her form to its full length: a fifth drew his poignard. Simultaneously,
the same terrible tragedy was being performed upon the other nineteen.
But let me get over the sad story, made sadder by the mistaken heroism
of these poor girls. During all this, none had their eyes covered. Some
few, seeing the butcher draw forth his poignard, demanded it; receiving
it in the right hand and passing it into the left, they respectfully
kissed the weapon; then, having wounded their left arms, they sucked
the blood, stained their lips with it, and made a point with the blood
upon their foreheads. Then returning the daggers to their executioners,
the latter stabbed them to the heart, and they died without a complaint
escaping them. At this moment I felt my arm clutched convulsively--a
slight shriek. Turning round, I saw that my brave, joyous brother
Martin had fainted with horror.
“Water, water!--for heaven’s sake, water, Prabu,” I exclaimed; but
there was no necessity for such a call. The people, the bystanders, who
could look so cruelly, coolly upon that terrible scene, flocked around
him, and, with the kindness of innocent natives, aided in restoring
him.
“Claud, Claud,” he cried, coming to, “this is too sickly, too horrible!
Let us go;” and, nearly as much overcome as himself, I led him away.
From hearsay, therefore, will I describe the rest of that horrible
rite--even more horrible than those of the Aztecs; for among the
latter the sacrifices were performed by priests, but in Bali by common
executioners, who receive as a reward fifty pieces of copper money each.
After the death of the victims, their nearest relations present came
forward, washed the bodies, and covered them with perfumed wood, in
such a manner that the head alone remained visible. They were then
placed upon the funeral pile and consumed to ashes.
About this time the body of the Queen--which, by the way, from a
superstitious notion that it will cheat the devil (whom they believe
lies in wait in the ordinary passage), had been brought from the palace
through an aperture especially made in the wall--arrived at the funeral
pyre. It was borne upon a superb _badi_, or litter, of a pyramidal
form, consisting of eleven steps, and supported by a number of persons,
proportioned to the rank of the deceased. At each side of the body were
seated two women--one holding an umbrella, and the other a flapper of
horsehair, to drive away insects. Two priests preceded the badi, in
vehicles of a particular form, holding each in one hand a cord attached
to the badi (as if giving to understand that they were leading the
deceased to heaven), and ringing with the other a little bell; while
such a noise of gongs, tabors, flutes, and other instruments was made,
that the whole ceremony had less the air of a funeral procession than
of a joyous village festival.
When the body had passed the funeral piles arranged in its route, it
was placed upon its own, which was forthwith lighted, while the chair
and couch used by the deceased in her lifetime were also burned. The
assistants then regaled themselves with a feast, while the musicians,
without cessation, struck the ear with a tumultuous melody, not
unpleasing. This festivity continued till evening, when, the bodies
being consumed, the relatives returned to their homes, leaving a guard
for the protection of the bones--those of the Queen only, for the rest
were gathered up and thrown away.
The next day the bones of the Queen were carried back to her former
habitation, with a ceremony equal in pomp to that of the preceding
day; there they remained for a month and seven days. Each day a number
of men proceeded to the palace, with vessels of silver, brass, and
earth, filled with water, and accompanied by a band of musicians and
pikemen. There were also other attendants, carrying green boughs, the
mirror, the vest, betel-box, and other domestic articles belonging to
the deceased. Every day during the above period the bones were devoutly
washed, after which, being placed in a litter, they were conveyed
(accompanied by a similar retinue to that which had attended the corpse
in its first removal from the palace) to a place called _Labee_, where
they were entirely burned, and the ashes, being carefully collected in
urns, were cast into the sea.
By the law of Bali, no woman or slave is _obliged_ to follow this
barbarous custom; yet even those who have desired to submit to it
and have not been accepted, as well as those who have not offered
themselves, are alike shut up for the remainder of their lives in a
convent, without being permitted the sight of a man. If any one should
find means to escape from her prison, and is afterwards taken, her fate
is instantly decided; she is poignarded, dragged through the streets,
and her body cast to the dogs to be devoured--the most ignominious form
of inflicting death in that country. That, however, these unfortunate
women do sometimes escape is evinced by the following anecdote, given
by a Dutchman, who was sent as ambassador from the Governor-General of
Batavia to the sovereign of Bali:--
“On the death of the reigning king, the whole of his wives and
concubines, sometimes to the number of a hundred or a hundred and
fifty, devote themselves to the flames. None of them are previously
poignarded, a distinction confined to this occasion. As they are at
such a time permitted to walk without restraint, it happened, at the
funeral of the late King of Bali, that one of his women, as she was
preparing to follow the example of her companions, lost her courage at
the sight of the dreadful preparations. She had sufficient presence of
mind, in approaching the bridge, to ask leave to withdraw for a moment
on some common pretext, which being granted without any suspicion, she
betook herself to flight with all possible speed. The _singularity_ of
the circumstance, rather than any motive of compassion, saved her life,
and gave her her freedom. Afterwards, she was seen daily at the public
market selling provisions; and although she was regarded by all persons
of rank with the utmost contempt, she heeded neither looks nor words.
“Another object of contempt among the Balinese, and for a reason
sufficiently singular, is the female slave to whose lot it falls to
wash the dead body of her mistress, during the month and seven days
before the funeral rites. It is, in fact, for the performance of this
task that her life is saved, and liberty afterwards given to her to
retire where she pleases into the country to earn her livelihood.”
The same writer gives us the following interesting account of the
self-immolation of the princesses of the blood-royal:--
“At the funeral of the king’s two sons, who died a short time
before, forty-two women of the one, and thirty-four of the other,
were poignarded and burnt in the manner above described; but on such
occasions, the princesses of royal blood leap themselves at once into
the flames, as did at this particular time the principal wives of
the princes in question, because they would look upon themselves as
dishonored by any one laying hands on their persons. For this purpose,
a kind of bridge is erected over the burning pile, which they mount,
holding in their hands a paper close to their foreheads, and having
their robe tucked up under their arms. As soon as they feel the heat,
they precipitate themselves into the burning pit, which is surrounded
by a palisade of cocoa-nut stems: in case their firmness should abandon
them at the appalling sight, a brother, or other near relative, is at
hand to push them in, and render them, out of affection, that cruel
office.
“We were informed that the first wife of the younger of the two princes
just alluded to, who was daughter to the king’s sister, asked her
father, who was Prince of Couta, whether, as she was but three months
married, and on account of her extreme youth, she ought to devote
herself on the funeral pile of her deceased husband? Her father, less
alive to the voice of nature than to the prejudices of his nation,
represented to her so strongly the disgrace she would, by preferring to
live, bring upon herself and all her family, that the unfortunate young
woman, summoning all her courage, gaily leapt into the flames, which
were already devouring the dead body of her husband.”