“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.”
CHAPTER XX.
WE RETURN TO THE COAST, AND HEAR OF AN OLD ENEMY.
The death of the Queen brought about a sad disappointment to Prabu, for, the day after those terrible rites, the Rajah caused it to be given out that he would give no audiences, nor, indeed, transact any kind of business, for the ensuing six months: nevertheless, he bore it with his usual coolness.
“God is great!” he said. “‘What is written is written.’ The Rajah is suffering under a great misfortune, and we must wait his Highness’s pleasure.”
“What!” exclaimed my brother. “Wait six months in this city of horror, with the ghosts of those poor murdered girls haunting us?—not I!”
“The Sahib Martin is as impatient as he is brave; but I shall not wait in this city. No—we will return to the coast with the Prince Mahomed’s ambassadors.”
Accordingly, we set out upon our return voyage at early dawn on the following day, and reached Mahomed’s domain without any incident worthy of record. We purposed to go on board the prahu the day after our arrival, but upon paying a farewell visit to the prince, so earnestly and kindly did he importune Prabu to remain his guest for a week or so, and so desirous was the latter of securing for his party as enthusiastic an ally in the son as he had had in the father, that he consented.