Mardi, and a voyage thither, Vol. 1 (of 2)Melville, Herman
PhilosophyPhilosophy
Mardi, and a voyage thither, Vol. 1 (of 2)
Melville, Herman
Adventure stories; Polynesia -- Description and travel -- Fiction
“Yet, if this story be true,” said he, “and since it is well settled,
that our brains are somehow the organs of sense; then, I see not why
human reason could not be put into a pig, by letting into its cranium
the contents of a man’s. I have long thought, that men, pigs, and
plants, are but curious physiological experiments; and that science
would at last enable philosophers to produce new species of beings, by
somehow mixing, and concocting the essential ingredients of various
creatures; and so forming new combinations. My friend Atahalpa, the
astrologer and alchymist, has long had a jar, in which he has been
endeavoring to hatch a fairy, the ingredients being compounded
according to a receipt of his own.”
But little they heeded Babbalanja. It was the traveler’s tale that most
arrested attention.
Tough the thews, and tough the tales of Samoa.
CHAPTER XCIX.
“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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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