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.