THE CHIEF'S FUNERAL.
Kai-Koumou, according to a custom quite ordinary in New Zealand, joined
the rank of priest to that of chief, and could, therefore, extend to
persons or objects the superstitious protection of the taboo.
The taboo, which is common to the tribes of Polynesia, has the power
to prohibit at once all connection with the object or person tabooed.
According to the Maori religion, whoever should lay his sacrilegious
hand on what is declared taboo would be punished with death by the
offended god; and in case the divinity should delay to avenge his own
insult, the priests would not fail to excite his anger.
As for the prisoners confined in the temple, the taboo had rescued
them from the fury of the tribe. Some of the natives, the friends and
partisans of Kai-Koumou, had stopped suddenly at the command of their
chief, and had protected the captives.
[Sidenote: THE TORTURES OF SUSPENSE.]
Glenarvan, however, was not blind to the fate that was reserved for
him. Only his death could atone for the murder of a chief. Among savage
races death is always preceded by a protracted torture. He therefore
expected to cruelly expiate the righteous indignation that had nerved
his arm, but hoped that Kai-Koumou's rage would fall only on himself.
What a night he and his companions passed! Who could depict their
anguish, or measure their sufferings? Neither poor Robert nor brave
Paganel had reappeared. But how could they doubt their fate? Were they
not the first victims of the natives' vengeance? All hope had vanished
even from the heart of the major, who did not easily despair. John
Mangles felt himself growing mad at sight of the sad dejection of Mary
Grant, thus separated from her brother. Glenarvan thought of that
terrible request of Lady Helena, who, rather than yield to torture or
slavery, preferred to die by his hand. Could he summon this fearful
courage? As for an escape, that was plainly impossible. Ten warriors,
armed to the teeth, guarded the entrance of the temple.
Morning came at last. There had been no communication between the
natives and the prisoners. The hut contained a considerable quantity
of food, which the unfortunates scarcely touched. Hunger gave place to
grief. The day passed without bringing a change or a hope. Doubtless
the hour for the dead chief's funeral and their torture would be the
same.
However, although Glenarvan concluded that Kai-Koumou must have
abandoned all idea of exchange, the major on this point retained a
gleam of hope.
"Who knows," said he, reminding Glenarvan of the effect produced upon
the chief by the death of Kara-Tété,--"who knows but that Kai-Koumou in
reality feels obliged to you?"
But, in spite of these observations, Glenarvan would no longer hope.
The next day also passed away without the preparations for torture
being made. The reason of the delay was this.
The Maoris believe that the soul, for three days after death, inhabits
the body of the deceased, and therefore during this time the corpse
remains unburied. This custom was rigorously observed, and for two days
the pah was deserted. Captain Mangles frequently stood on Wilson's
shoulders and surveyed the fortification. No native was seen; only the
sentinels guarded in turn at the door of their prison.
But on the third day the huts were opened. The savages, men, women,
and children, to the number of several hundreds, assembled in the pah,
silent and calm. Kai-Koumou came out of his house, and, surrounded by
the principal warriors of his tribe, took his place on a mound several
feet high in the centre of the fortification. The crowd of natives
formed a semicircle around him, and the whole assembly preserved
absolute silence.
At a sign from the chief, a warrior advanced towards the temple.
"Remember!" said Lady Helena to her husband.
Glenarvan clasped his wife to his heart. At this moment Mary Grant
approached John Mangles.
"Lord and Lady Glenarvan," said she, "I think that, if a wife can die
by the hand of her husband to escape a degrading existence, a maiden
can likewise die by the hand of her lover. John (for I may tell you
at this critical moment), have I not long been your betrothed in the
depths of your heart? May I rely upon you, dear John, as Lady Helena
does upon Lord Glenarvan?"
"Mary!" cried the young captain, in terror. "Ah! dear Mary----"
He could not finish: the mat was raised, and the captives were dragged
towards Kai-Koumou. The two women were resigned to their fate, while
the men concealed their anguish beneath a calmness that showed
superhuman self-control. They came before the chief, who did not delay
sentence.
"You killed Kara-Tété!" said he to Glenarvan.
"I did."
[Sidenote: THE BEGINNING OF THE END.]
"You shall die to-morrow at sunrise."
"Alone?" inquired Glenarvan, whose heart beat quickly.
"What! as if our Tohonga's life were not more precious than yours!"
cried Kai-Koumou, whose eyes expressed a fierce regret.
At this moment a commotion took place among the natives. Glenarvan cast
a rapid glance around him. The crowd opened, and a warrior, dripping
with sweat and overcome with fatigue, appeared.
As soon as Kai-Koumou perceived him, he said in English, evidently that
he might be understood by the captives:
"You come from the camp of the pale-faces?"
"Yes," replied the Maori.
"You saw the prisoner, our Tohonga?"
"I did."
"Is he living?"
"He is dead! The English have shot him."
The fate of Glenarvan and his companions was settled.
"You shall all die to-morrow at daybreak!" cried Kai-Koumou.
The unfortunates were therefore to suffer a common death. Lady Helena
and Mary Grant raised towards heaven a look of thankfulness.
The captives were not taken back to the temple. They were to attend
that day the funeral of the dead chief, and the bloody ceremonies
connected therewith. A party of natives conducted them to the foot of
an enormous koudi, where these guardians remained without losing sight
of their prisoners. The rest of the tribe, absorbed in their official
mourning, seemed to have forgotten them.
The customary three days had elapsed since the death of Kara-Tété. The
soul of the deceased had therefore forever abandoned its mortal abode.
The sacred rites began.
The body was carried to a small mound in the centre of the
fortification, clothed in splendid costume, and enveloped in a
magnificent flaxen mat. The head was adorned with plumes, and wore a
crown of green leaves. The face, arms, and breast had been rubbed with
oil, and therefore showed no mortification.
The parents and friends of the deceased came to the foot of the
mound, and all at once, as if some director were beating time to a
funeral dirge, a great concert of cries, groans, and sobs arose on the
air. They mourned the dead in plaintive and modulated cadences. His
relations struck their heads together; his kinswomen lacerated their
faces with their nails, and showed themselves more lavish of blood than
of tears. These unfortunate females conscientiously fulfilled their
barbarous duty.
But these demonstrations were not enough to appease the soul of the
deceased, whose wrath would doubtless have smitten the survivors of his
tribe; and his warriors, as they could not recall him to life, wished
that he should have no cause to regret in the other world the happiness
of this.
Kara-Tété's wife was not to forsake her husband in the tomb. Moreover,
the unfortunate woman would not have been allowed to survive him;
it was the custom, in accordance with duty, and examples of such
sacrifices are not wanting in New Zealand history. The woman appeared.
She was still young. Her hair floated in disorder over her shoulders.
Vague words, lamentations, and broken phrases, in which she celebrated
the virtues of the dead, interrupted her groans; and, in a final
paroxysm of grief, she stretched herself at the foot of the mound,
beating the ground with her head.
At this moment Kai-Koumou approached her. Suddenly the unfortunate
victim rose; but a violent blow with the "méré," a formidable club,
wielded by the hand of the chief, struck her lifeless to the earth.
[Sidenote: POOR HUMANITY!]
Frightful cries at once broke forth. A hundred arms threatened the
captives, who trembled at the horrible sight. But no one stirred, for
the funeral ceremonies were not ended.
Kara-Tété's wife had joined her husband in the other world. Both bodies
lay side by side. But for the eternal life his faithful spouse could
not alone suffice the deceased. Who would serve them in presence of
Nouï-Atoua, if their slaves did not follow them?
Six unfortunates were brought before the corpse of their master and
mistress. They were servants, whom the pitiless laws of war had reduced
to slavery. During the life of the chief they had undergone the
severest privations, suffered a thousand abuses, had been scantily fed,
and compelled constantly to labor like beasts; and now, according to
the Maori belief, they were to continue their existence of servitude
for eternity.
They appeared to be resigned to their fate, and were not astonished
at a sacrifice they had long anticipated. Their freedom from all
bonds showed that they would meet death unresistingly. Moreover, this
death was rapid, protracted sufferings were spared them. These were
reserved for the captives who stood trembling not twenty paces distant.
Six blows of the méré, given by six stalwart warriors, stretched the
victims on the ground in a pool of blood. It was the signal for a
terrible scene of cannibalism, which followed in all its horrible
details.
Glenarvan and his companions, breathless with fright, strove to hide
this awful scene from the eyes of the two unhappy ladies. They now
understood what awaited them at sunrise the next day, and what cruel
tortures would doubtless precede such a death. They were dumb with
horror.
The funeral dance now began. Strong spirits, extracted from an
indigenous plant, maddened the savages till they seemed no longer
human. Would they not forget the taboo of the chief, and throw
themselves in their final outbreaks upon the prisoners who trembled at
their frenzy?
[Illustration: A terrible scene of cannibalism, which followed in all
its horrible details.]
[Illustration: The corpses, folded together, in a sitting posture,
and tied in their clothes by a girdle of withes, were placed on this
primitive bier.]
But Kai-Koumou had preserved his reason in the midst of the general
intoxication. He allowed this bloody orgy an hour to reach its utmost
intensity. The last act of the funeral was played with the usual rites.
The bodies of Kara-Tété and his wife were taken up, and their limbs
bent and gathered against the stomach, according to the New Zealand
custom. The place for the tomb had been chosen outside of the
fortification, about two miles distant, on the summit of a small
mountain, called Maunganamu, situated on the right shore of the lake.
Thither the bodies were to be carried. Two very rude palanquins, or
rather litters, were brought to the foot of the mound. The corpses,
folded together, in a sitting posture, and tied in their clothes by a
girdle of withes, were placed on this primitive bier. Four warriors
bore it between them, and the entire tribe, chanting the funeral hymn,
followed them in procession to the place of burial.
The captives, who were always watched, saw them leave the inner
inclosure of the pah, and then the songs and cries gradually died away.
For about half an hour this funeral escort continued in sight, in the
depths of the valley. Finally they perceived it again winding along
the mountain paths. The distance gave a fantastic appearance to the
undulating movements of the long, sinuous column.
The tribe stopped at the summit of the mountain, which was eight
hundred feet high, at the place prepared for Kara-Tété's interment.
A common Maori would have had only a hole and a heap of stones for a
grave; but for a powerful and dreaded chief, destined doubtless for a
speedy deification, a tomb worthy of his exploits was reserved.
[Sidenote: THE LAST NIGHT.]
The sepulchre had been surrounded by palisades, while stakes,
ornamented with faces reddened with ochre, stood beside the grave
where the bodies were to lie. The relatives had not forgotten that the
"waidoua" (the spirit of the dead) feeds on substantial nourishment
like the body during this perishable life. Food had therefore been
deposited in the inclosure, together with the weapons and clothes of
the deceased.
Nothing was wanting for the comfort of the tomb. Husband and wife were
laid side by side, and then covered with earth and grass after a series
of renewed lamentations. Then the procession silently descended the
mountain, and now no one could ascend it under penalty of death, for it
was tabooed.