"If you'd seen this road before it was made,You'd lift up your hands and bless General Wade"
"If you'd seen this road before it was made,You'd lift up your hands and bless General Wade"
Daendels may have been an admirable gentleman, a brave soldier, and a clever administrator, but his engineering skill did not equal his other qualities. It would have been much better if the road had never been made. Surely no highway was ever more badly graded, and we are not astonished that a practical people like the Dutch set themselves to construct a more sensible road by way of Tjitjoeroeg and Soekaboemie. We have seen paved mountain paths in China more inaccessible, but not much, and when we dashed up to the Sindanglaya Hotel at 12.15, we thought more highly of the team that had pulled us over the Pass than we could have believed when we formed our first early morning prejudices.
Needless to say, it is not a road for a motor car. It would be inadvisable to adopt this route to Sindanglaya if the party included ladies. But, if they have a taste for mountaineering, baggage should be sent by rail to Tjiandjoer under the care of some of the party, and carriages dispensed with at Toegoe and the remainder of the journey made on foot. Asit was, a good deal of our journey up had to be made on foot over unblinded loose road metal.
Going down the other side the driver led the ponies for about a quarter of a mile, and then joined us in the kreta. That downward trip was the most perilous we ever made in anything that runs on wheels, except a train journey from Manila to Malolos during the Filipino insurrection in 1899. Jack London, the Californian novelist, once told us that life would not be worth living if it were not for the thrills. We had more thrills than we care to have crowded into one hour on that down-grade run from Poentjak to Sindanglaya. Several times, we retrimmed at the request of the driver, and we kept the barang from falling upon him, while he manipulated our three rakish adventurers from Battak. When an unusually severe lurch nearly precipitated us into the deep storm-water channel on the left or the carefully-irrigated paddy fields on the right, Jehu turned round and grinned a grin of fiendish appreciation, whilst we thanked with fervour the merciful Providence who preserved us from destruction, and wondered how long one could hold out with a broken limb, without surgical help, should the worst happen. It is the unexpected that happens. We got to Sindanglaya without any more serious damage than a bottle of Odol distributed amongst our best clothes.
Governor-General Daendels seems to have had a high opinion of this remarkable highway. Weread: "The obstinacy with which he carried through his scheme of constructing the main road to the Preanger Regencies across this summit is really amazing. He never shrank from the terrible death-rate among the wretched labourers, nor from the difficulties and enormous cost to keep such a road in good condition, for, especially in the west monsoon, heavy rain-showers are continually washing the earth off the road. Yet it was by no means necessary." Let this be Governor-General Daendels' epitaph!
Had not one's attention been distracted by the eccentric performances of the kreta, one might well have admired the scenery. Close at hand, the road teems with fascinating pictures of native life. Only occasionally does one see a really beautiful face, but there is a pretty shyness such as one seldom sees on the roads of a European country. Although we read of the thirty millions of people in Java, there is still, apparently, room for more, and nearly every woman has a brown baby slung upon the hip and others dragging on her sarong, or seeking to efface themselves behind her none too ample form. At intervals, old women or young children keep shop, either in nipa huts or on mats under the shade of a kanari-tree. In the kampongs or collections of neat little huts which punctuate the way, a pasar (market) is being held, haberdashers with cheap glass and fancy wares being injuxtaposition with dealers in sarongs and the sellers of fruits and vegetables. On the stoeps of some of the houses, groups of women spin or weave cloth for the native sarong; some make deft use of the sewing machine of foreign commerce.
The road is fringed by a variety of trees and plants which only a botanist would attempt to describe. Colour is given to this fringe by the magenta bougainvillea, the red hibiscus, the pale blue convolvulus, the variegated crotons, and the orange and red of the lantana, and at places the poinsettia provides a predominating red head to the hedge-like greenery. Palms and tree ferns and feathery clumps of young bamboo are called to aid by Nature's landscape gardener; but they do not shut out the verdure-clad ravines that mark a waterway or the terraced rice-fields which climb almost to the top of the highest summits.
We thought we had seen the acme of perfection in rice cultivation and irrigation in China and Japan. But here in Java, we have seen more to excite the admiration in this respect than in either of these countries. One can only marvel at the completeness of the system of irrigation. Rice is in all stages of cultivation, from the flooded paddy field to the grain in the ear being reaped by the gaily coloured butterflies of women. Water buffaloes drag a primitive plough through the drenched soil, while the bright-faced young ploughboy, by what appears to be asuperhuman effort, balances himself precariously on the implement.
On the left, we pass tea gardens, the tufty bushes low to the ground. What strikes us first is the amazing regularity of the rows and the cleanness of the ground. An aroma of tea in the making escapes from the roadside factory and agreeably assails our sense of smell as we jolt past in our kreta.
We reached Kampong Toegoe at nine o'clock, refreshed both men and beasts, and harnessed two more ponies with long rope traces to help us to the summit of the Pass, which was reached at eleven o'clock. Here we made a deviation on foot to the Telega Warna (Colour-changing Lake) while the ponies rested for the downward journey. The path is a difficult one, and the lake itself is less interesting than the lovely vegetation by which it is surrounded. Ferns and bracken cover the hillside, pollipods predominating, orchids cling to tree stems, and higher up, the curious nest-fern and various forms of plant life attract attention. Tree is woven to tree by a network of mighty lianas.
The lake itself lies in what must have been the crater in the prehistoric period of activity of Megamendoeng. It is 100 metres in width, circular in shape, and about 100 fathoms deep. Fish are found in the lake, and they are regarded with veneration by the natives.
The steepness of the heavily wooded wall that rises hundreds of feet sheer round three sides reminds one of the geyser-studded old crater of Unzen, in the island of Kyushiu in Japan, "Its gleaming mirror," the guide book says, "exhibits a wonderful luxury of tints and colours, shifting and changing whenever the gentle mountain breeze ruffles the smooth surface." We did not stay a sufficiently long time to experience any wonderful changes on the lake itself, but the surroundings are loaded with charm. The visitor to Sindanglaya should certainly not neglect to make the trip to the lake. We would recommend an excursion on foot from the hotel.
Once over the Pass, the view on the other side of the large basin-shaped plateau in which Sindanglaya lies is more attractive than on the Buitenzorg side, and, as we were to find on the following morning, a better idea is obtained of the wonderful industry of the people, and the remarkable extent to which the cultivation of the mountain slopes is carried on by them.
We had not gone far on our travels before we realised the presumptuousness of our attempt to "do" Java in a fortnight. It would require weeks to drink in all the subtle beauties and influences of Buitenzorg, to get the atmosphere of the place; and to derive the fullest measure of benefit and enjoyment from the visit to Sindanglaya, one would require at least a fortnight.
It will ever be matter for regret that we were unable to devote more time to the beauty spots of Western Java or to make the various interesting and health-giving excursions from Sindanglaya's comfortable hotel. We have already said that the ride over the Poentjak Pass should be avoided and the train taken from Buitenzorg to Tjiandjoer. The train leaving Batavia (Weltervreden Station) at 7.25 a.m. and Buitenzorg at 8.44 reaches Tjiandjoer at 12.04. Here, if a carriage has been ordered in advance, a representative of the Sindanglaya establishment meets passengers, and the journey to the hotel is negotiated in two hours at a cost of two and a-half guilders. From Buitenzorg to Sindanglaya the hire of a carriage for passenger and baggage isnine guilders; from Sindanglaya to Buitenzorg it costs seven guilders. The train fare from Batavia to Buitenzorg is three guilders for first-class and two guilders for second; from Batavia to Tjiandjoer, it is eight guilders first-class and four guilders and seventy-five cents second.
The hotel, which consists of one main building with a number of small detached pavilions surrounded by roses and other flowers of the temperate zone, is situated on the slopes of the Gedéh, and is 3,300 feet above sea level. At this level one is able to move about long distances during the day without becoming exhausted, and in the evening the air is delightfully cool, falling just below 70 degrees the night we slept there. There is a tennis court, and the manager spoke of laying down another, and with billiards and skittles in the evening and a hot spring swimming bath, near the Governor-General's villa, for healthful recreation in the daytime, one need not feel too much the absence of city life and companionship. The tariff is the moderate one of six guilders a day, but it is reduced to five guilders per day when a stay of a week or more is made.
The Governor-General's summer residence, Tjipanas, is here, a quarter of a mile from the hotel. It is a prettily situated bungalow residence, standing quite close to the main road from Tjiandjoer, and surrounded by a garden which transports one at once to the south of England. Here, as in many otherplaces in Java, the notice appears: "Verbodden Toegang;" but a courteous application to the Steward in charge obtains a hearty welcome to inspect the grounds. These are well stocked with dahlias, roses, hortensias, begonias, cowslips, sweet williams, wall-flower, and other old-fashioned flowers, and the bloom-covered fuschias carried one's thoughts back to pleasant days spent in Devonshire dales. From the lawns sweet-smelling violets perfumed the air. Matchless orchids clung to the trees, and the delicate maiden-hair fern held its own with the hardier varieties. Dusky fir-trees, groups of Australian araucarias, and Japanese oak trees and chestnuts set off the brightness of the flower beds. In the park there is a beautiful pond, from the centre of which a fountain throws a crystal spray to catch the sun's rays and dispense a wealth of glittering diamonds.
Hot water is the literal meaning of Tjipanas, and a hot spring in the vicinity of the villa supplies the bath-rooms, as well as the swimming bath of the Sanatorium.
There is a fine view from the villa, but a better prospect is obtained from Goenoeng Kasoer, some hundreds of feet higher, where a former Governor-General often took his ontbijtberg (or breakfast). It is now known as Breakfast Hill. A silver mine in the neighbourhood was worked for a time by the John Company.
The mountain garden of Tjibodas, mentioned in a previous article, is well worth a visit. A good walker, starting at six o'clock, can go there, breakfast and be back at the hotel by noon. But the excursion to be taken by everyone who stays at Sindanglaya for any length of time is to the falls at Tjibeureum, Kandang Badak and the crater of the Gedéh. Ladies may make the trip in sedan chairs; gentlemen on foot or on horseback. The falls of Tjibeureum consist of three cataracts, falling 400 feet down a perpendicular crag, and the winding road passes through some interesting jungle scenery.
From Tjibeureum, the path winds up a steep ascent, and through a narrow cleft in the rocks, a natural gateway to which the natives have attached some wonderful legends. Hot springs break through the mountain crust and run side by side with crystal-pure cold brooks, as is often the case on the mountains in Japan.
After a two and a half hours' climb from Tjibeureum, Kadang Badak (or Rhinoceros Kraal) is reached. It lies almost half way up the saddle which connects the Gedéh with the Pangerango, and although there are now no traces of pachyderms, it is stated that both this place and the Telega Warna were favourite haunts of the rhinoceros not so very many years ago. It is recommended that the climbers should spend the night in the hut here, andascend the Pangerango (9,500 ft.) at 4 a.m. to see the sun rise. From the top the view is magnificent.
Along a steep and difficult mountain path, the crater of the Gedéh may be reached in an hour and a half, and the sight of the gigantic crater of this majestic volcano is said to be overwhelming and ample compensation for the toilsome ascent. It is about two miles distant from the Pangerango, and forms the still active part of the twin volcano. Between 1761 and 1832 no eruptions occurred, but seven took place in the twenty years following, the most terrible and severe being the eruption of 1840. There were again terrible eruptions in 1886 and 1899, when the volcano covered the hillsides with huge stones, one over 150 kilogrammes in weight landing three-quarters of a mile away.
There are several places in the Preanger Region where the visitor may elect to stay instead of Sindanglaya, such as Soekaboemi (2,100 ft.) which has the advantage of being on the railway, Bandoeng and Garoet. All have their own attractions for invalids, and the hotel accommodation is spoken of in terms of the highest praise by all who have been there.
When we drove away from Sindanglaya at seven o'clock on the following morning, the white crater wall of the Gedéh stood out like a huge lump of marble in the morning sun.
Our route lay through tea, coffee and cocoa plantations, and richly cultivated country to Tjiandjoer—a thriving little mountain town, with an air of prosperity and progress,—where we joined the train at 9.30 a.m. for Padalarang. Here, at 11.10 a.m., a change was made to the express from Batavia, and Maos was reached at 5.46 p.m. It had been our intention to stay overnight at Bandoeng, strongly recommended by Mr. Gantvoort, the courteous manager of the Hotel des Indes in Batavia, but we pressed on with the intention of devoting more time to the eastern end of the island. It was well we did so, for, shortly after leaving Padalarang, rain began to fall in torrents, and the afternoon and night were passed in a severe thunderstorm which was to cause us delay. Part of the line was washed away near Moentilan, and our train was over three hours late in reaching Djocjakarta on the following day.
At Maos, there is a commodious, well-built, comfortable passagrahan or government rest-house, where four of us ate our meal in solemn silence, until a query by ourselves when the coffee arrived broke the icy reserve of the quartette, and opened the way for an interesting conversation.
It is customary to make fun of English reserve, but our observation convinced us that the Dutch are no whit behind us in that respect where fellow-Dutch are concerned. On the other hand, nothingcould have exceeded the kindness and courtesy with which we were treated from one end of Java to the other. Speaking no Dutch, we had looked forward to many tedious days, but our fears were needless, for, wherever we went, we met pleasant English-speaking Dutchmen, who proved the most entertaining of companions, and we take this opportunity of acknowledging the courteous assistance we received from time to time. On the score of not speaking Dutch or Malay, no English man or woman need be deterred from visiting Java. English is spoken at all the hotels, and though all the train conductors and stationmasters may not do so, there is sure to be an educated Dutchman or lady in the car to whom one may turn for help, which is always readily given.
On one occasion, we had an interesting conversation with two native officials attached to the staff of the Sultan at Djocjakarta. These men had never left the island of Java, yet one of them read and spoke English with ready fluency and perfect accent.
Next day, in spite of the delay caused by the wash-out on the line, we were able to reach Djocjakarta by tiffin time, and devoted the afternoon to the Hindu ruins at Parambanan.
Boro Budur ruins.The Bara Budur.
The Bara Budur.
A visit to Java would be incomplete did it not include a pilgrimage to the marvellous products of religious fervour which Buddhism reared in the plains around Djocjakarta before it went down before the all-conquering onslaught of Moslemism. These ruins testify to an ancient art and civilisation and culture and an instinct of creation few are aware of to-day, and it is hard to resist the temptation to indulge in extravagant language when attempting to describe them as they now stand, partially restored by the Dutch authorities.
Miss Scidmore has lavished the wealth of her luxuriant vocabulary upon them, but neither she, nor any of her predecessors in the work of praise, saw them as they stand to-day—a wonder alike to archaeologist, architect, artist and student of comparative religions. Here in the centre of fertile plains we have the real Java of ancient times.
The Dutch had been in possession of the island for two hundred years without discovering the rich deposits hidden beneath the accumulated mounds of centuries and buried under a mass of tropical vegetation. To the active mind of Sir Stamford Rafflesthe discovery was due. He went to Java as Lieutenant-Governor in 1811, and during the period it was under his control, he had the mounds explored, the ruined temples un-earthed and their historic import co-related with the romantic legends and poetic records rescued from the archives of the native princes. It was due to the investigations of this great Englishman that the date of the construction of the temples was fixed at the beginning of the seventh century of the Christian era, and subsequent investigators (prominent amongst whom must be placed Dr. I. Groneman, now and for many years resident of Djocjakarta and Honorary President of its Archaeological Society) agree in accepting this period as authentically proved from the ruins themselves.
People crossing a bridge.
Sir Stamford was of opinion that the temples, as works of labour and art, dwarf to nothing all wonder and admiration at the great pyramids of Egypt; but since his time, it must not be forgotten, much richer discoveries in ancient art and archæological lore have been made in Egypt and Palestine. Alfred Russell Wallace, Brumund, Fergusson, all join in the chorus of praise, and thelatter, in his "History of Indian and Eastern Architecture," expresses the opinion that the Boro Budur is the highest development of Buddhist art, an epitome of all its arts and ritual, and the culmination of the architectural style, which, originating at Barhut a thousand years before—that is more than twenty-one centuries ago—had begun to decay in India at the time the colonists were erecting this masterpiece of the ages in the heart of Java.
People by a river.
To reach the Boro Budur, one takes the steam tram from Djocja to Moentilan. There a dog-cart may be hired for three guilders, and, taking the Temple or Tjandi of Mendoet on the way, the Boro Budur may be reached in an hour and a half from Moentilan. Miss Scidmore was able to write with her customary enthusiasm about this road; but, truth to tell, we found the drive far from pleasant. Until one gets within a quarter of a mile of the ruins, the surface is bad and some of the small bridges so dangerous that we dismounted at the driver's request. The dog-cart, also, is far from an agreeable vehicle in which to travel, and if a better carriage could be found we would advise its beinghired. Wherever one goes in Java, the public vehicles are in a state of decay, far more disreputable than the gharry of Singapore, and a large number of the ponies are decrepit and suffering from open sores. If Java is to become a tourist country the vehicles should be better supervised.
Before setting out from Djocjakarta, the visitor should get the hotel proprietor to communicate with the stationmaster at Moentilan, with the object of having a more comfortable carriage than fell to our unhappy lot through leaving the matter to haphazard.
Strictly speaking, the Boro Budur—which means the collection of Buddas—is not a building in the sense that we speak of St. Paul's or St. Peter's. A small hill has been cut down and the earthwork surrounded by masonry, uncemented, unjointed, layer upon layer, and there is no column, pillar, or true arch. It is supposed that it was built by some of the first Buddhist settlers from India as the resting place (dagaba) of one of the urns containing a portion of the ashes of Buddha.
Bas relief at Boro Budur.Bas Relief—Bara Budur.
Bas Relief—Bara Budur.
Bas relief at Boro Budur.Bas Relief—Bara Budur.
Bas Relief—Bara Budur.
It is difficult to describe it briefly, but the following extract from Miss Scidmore's book seems to us to convey the best idea of the structure in general terms:—
"The temple stands on a broad platform, and rises first in five square terraces, inclosing galleries or[53]processional paths between their walls, which are covered on each side with bas-relief sculptures. If placed in single line, these bas-reliefs would extend for three miles. The terrace walls hold four hundred and thirty-six niches or alcove chapels, where life-size Buddhas sit serene upon lotus cushions. Staircases ascend in straight lines from each of the four sides, passing under stepped or pointed arches, the keystones of which are elaborately carved masks, and rows of sockets in the jambs show where wood or metal doors once swung. Above the square terraces are three circular terraces, where seventy-two latticed dagabas (reliquaries in the shape of the calyx or bud of the lotus) inclose each a seated image, seventy-two more Buddhas sitting in those inner, upper circles, of Nirvana, facing a great dagaba, or final cupola, the exact function or purpose of which as key to the whole structure is still the puzzle of archæologists. This final shrine is fifty feet in diameter, and either covered a relic of Buddha, or a central well where the ashes of priests and princes were deposited, or is a form surviving from the tree-temples of the earliest primitive East when nature-worship prevailed. The English engineers made an opening in the solid exterior, and found an unfinished statue of Buddha on a platform over a deep well-hole."
"The temple stands on a broad platform, and rises first in five square terraces, inclosing galleries or[53]processional paths between their walls, which are covered on each side with bas-relief sculptures. If placed in single line, these bas-reliefs would extend for three miles. The terrace walls hold four hundred and thirty-six niches or alcove chapels, where life-size Buddhas sit serene upon lotus cushions. Staircases ascend in straight lines from each of the four sides, passing under stepped or pointed arches, the keystones of which are elaborately carved masks, and rows of sockets in the jambs show where wood or metal doors once swung. Above the square terraces are three circular terraces, where seventy-two latticed dagabas (reliquaries in the shape of the calyx or bud of the lotus) inclose each a seated image, seventy-two more Buddhas sitting in those inner, upper circles, of Nirvana, facing a great dagaba, or final cupola, the exact function or purpose of which as key to the whole structure is still the puzzle of archæologists. This final shrine is fifty feet in diameter, and either covered a relic of Buddha, or a central well where the ashes of priests and princes were deposited, or is a form surviving from the tree-temples of the earliest primitive East when nature-worship prevailed. The English engineers made an opening in the solid exterior, and found an unfinished statue of Buddha on a platform over a deep well-hole."
Boro Budur scene.
We read this description among others before we visited the Boro Budur, and must confess thatfrom none of them did we get a correct idea of what we were to see. It must be seen to be realised. Not even photographs give a true conception of the ornate character of the decorative stonework—the hard but freely-worked lava stone having lent itself easily to the chisel. Like Cologne or Milan Cathedrals, it must be examined minutely to grasp the elaborateness of the sculptured work, but, unlike either of these, it does not produce an immediate impression of grandeur and religious elevation. It is unlike any of the temples in Japan, or, indeed, anywhere, though Ceylon and India may suggest comparisons.
What will strike the visitor as he perambulates these miles of sculptured terraces is the complete absence of any offensive or indecent figure. Mere nudity is not, of course, an outrage to the artistic soul; but here there is not even a nude or grotesque figure. Each is draped in the fine flowing robes of the East, not in monotonous regularity but suggestive of prince and peasant, princess and maids, down even to the jewels they wear. Strangely enough, no particularly Javanese type of face or figure is represented—all are Hindu, Hindu-Caucasian and pure Greek.
It is not our purpose to give elaborate details of this work of religious art. The visitor may obtain at Djocjakarta a copy of Dr. Groneman's learned treatise on the subject, a treatise which will teach him something about Buddhism as well as the Boro Budur, of which Dr. Groneman has made an exhaustive study. With his guide, the sculptures become an open book to the visitor.
It is more archæological than descriptive, however, and we must acknowledge our indebtedness again to Miss Scidmore for the following passage to show the scope of the sculptures:—
Buddha statue in a niche."The everyday life of the seventh and eighth century is pictured—temples, palaces, thrones and tombs, ship and houses, all of man's constructions are portrayed. The life in courts and palaces, in fields and villages, is all seen there. Royal folk in wonderful jewels sit enthroned, with minions offering gifts and burning incense before them warriors kneeling and maidens dancing. The peasant ploughs the rice-fields with the same wooden stick and ungainly buffalo, and carries the rice-sheaves from the harvest field with[56]the same shoulder poles, used in all the farther East to-day. Women fill their water-vessels at the tanks and bear them away on their heads as in India now, and scores of bas-reliefs show the unchanging costumes of the East that offer sculptors the same models in this century. Half the wonders of that great three-mile-long gallery of sculptures cannot be recalled. Each round disclosed some more wonderful picture, some more eloquent story. Even the humorous fancies of the sculptors are expressed in stone. In one relievo a splendidly caparisoned state elephant flings its feet in imitation of the dancing girl near by. Other sportive elephants carry fans and state umbrellas in their trunks; and the marine monsters swimming about the ship that bears the Buddhist missionaries to the isles have such expression and human resemblance as to make one wonder if those pillory an enemy with their chisels, too. In the last gallery, where, in the progress of the religion, it took on many features of Jainism, or advancing Brahmanism, Buddha is several times represented as the ninth avatar, or incarnation, of Vishnu, still seated on the lotus cushion and holding a lotus with one of his four hands."
Buddha statue in a niche.
"The everyday life of the seventh and eighth century is pictured—temples, palaces, thrones and tombs, ship and houses, all of man's constructions are portrayed. The life in courts and palaces, in fields and villages, is all seen there. Royal folk in wonderful jewels sit enthroned, with minions offering gifts and burning incense before them warriors kneeling and maidens dancing. The peasant ploughs the rice-fields with the same wooden stick and ungainly buffalo, and carries the rice-sheaves from the harvest field with[56]the same shoulder poles, used in all the farther East to-day. Women fill their water-vessels at the tanks and bear them away on their heads as in India now, and scores of bas-reliefs show the unchanging costumes of the East that offer sculptors the same models in this century. Half the wonders of that great three-mile-long gallery of sculptures cannot be recalled. Each round disclosed some more wonderful picture, some more eloquent story. Even the humorous fancies of the sculptors are expressed in stone. In one relievo a splendidly caparisoned state elephant flings its feet in imitation of the dancing girl near by. Other sportive elephants carry fans and state umbrellas in their trunks; and the marine monsters swimming about the ship that bears the Buddhist missionaries to the isles have such expression and human resemblance as to make one wonder if those pillory an enemy with their chisels, too. In the last gallery, where, in the progress of the religion, it took on many features of Jainism, or advancing Brahmanism, Buddha is several times represented as the ninth avatar, or incarnation, of Vishnu, still seated on the lotus cushion and holding a lotus with one of his four hands."
In all probability, the masonry was shaken down by an earthquake, the Boro Budur being near three volcanoes. Restorative and preservative work is now being carried on by the Government, and some of the smaller temples in the Djocja district are restored in the original design.
A gallery at Boro Budur.The Bara Budur—One of the Galleries.
The Bara Budur—One of the Galleries.
Smeroe volcano.The Sméroe—13,000 Feet High.
The Sméroe—13,000 Feet High.
There is a small hotel at the Boro Budur where one is recommended to stay when studying details, and we can well believe that sunrise as seen from the summit is a sight one should never forget. We saw it in the early afternoon when the heat vapours from the noontide sun partially obliterated the landscape, but even so it was impressive. Except on the right, where the mountains close in the horizon, the eye has a range of many miles over fertile alluvial plains, studded with coco and banana and palm trees, and every other patch of ground cultivated "like a tulip bed." Miss Marianne North, whose collection of paintings in Kew Gardens may be familiar to some of our readers, wrote of this view: "The very finest view we ever saw."
There are other Buddhist ruins in the neighbourhood of the Boro Budur; but the other more important collection is scattered over the region between Djocjakarta and Soerakarta. One small temple, the Tjandi Kali Bening, is reputed to be the gem of Hindu art in Java. This we did not see; but, on another day, in a victoria drawn by four small ponies, kept going by the wild gr-r-r-ee gr-r-r-eeing of our native running footman, we drove to the scattered temples on the Plain of Parambanan, where, with the help of another archæological guide by Dr. I. Groneman, we were able to appreciate the beauties of these 1100-year-old centres of ancient religious devotees. These temples are the most interesting in the country, though lacking the extent and grandeur of the Boro Budur. Though they do not contain a single genuine Buddha figure, but many images of Brahmanic gods, Dr. Groneman says there are many reasons to justify the opinion that they were built by Buddhists, probably over the ashes of princes and grandees of a Buddhistic empire.
In his report to Sir Stamford Raffles on these Parambanan ruins, Captain George Baker, of the Bengal establishment wrote:—"In the whole courseof my life, I have never met with such stupendous and finished specimens of human labour and of the science and taste of ages long since forgot, crowded together in so small a compass, as in this little spot, which, to use a military phrase, I deem to have been the headquarters of Hinduism in Java."
In Volume XIII of the "Asiatick Researches or Transactions of the Society instituted in Bengal for inquiring into the History and Antiquities, the Arts, Sciences and Literature of Asia" (Calcutta, 1820), Mr. John Crawfurd, who, apparently, visited Java in 1816, gives a long and interesting description of the ruins on the Plain of Parambanan. He describes the locale as ten miles from Djocjakarta, a valley lying between Rababu and Marapi to the north and a smaller southern range of high land.
A few of the ruins consist of single isolated temples, but the greater number are in groups, rows of small temples surrounding larger temples.
The shape of the smaller temples is worthy of observation. From the foundation to the lintels of the doors, they are of a square form. They then assume a pyramidal but round shape, and are decorated around by small figures resembling Lingas, while a larger Linga surmounts the whole building, forming the apex of the temple.
Invariably, the sites of the temples are adjacent to abundant supplies of clear water so much desiredby the Hindus and so necessary to the performance of the ritual. Beside two rivers of the purest water, there is between the villages of Parambanan and Plaosan a small tank, evidently an appendage to the temples. This little piece of water is a square of about 200 feet to the side. The ground around it is elevated, and there is every appearance of its being an artificial excavation. The whole tank, when visited by Mr. Crawfurd, was covered with blue lotus, the flower of which is so conspicuous an ornament of the sculptures of the temple.
Then, as now, there was no evidence of Hindu descendants of the builders of these religious houses and places of worship, but the Javanese are as tolerant of various religious cults as the Chinese or the Japanese, and the visitor need not be surprised to find native visitors making what appears to be a pilgrimage to some particular shrine.
Mr. Crawfurd found barren women, men unfortunate in trade or at play, persons in debt and sick persons propitiating the Goddess Durgá, "smeared with perfumed unguents or decked with flowers." This worship, too, was not confined to the lower orders. His Highness the Susuhunan when meditating an unusually ambitious or hazardous scheme made offerings to the image.
These temples are built of a hard dark and heavy species of basalt, the chief component of themountains of Java. The stone is usually hewn in square blocks of various sizes, as is the case with the Boro Budur. The respective surfaces of the stones which lie on each other in the building have grooves and projections which key into each other as in the best masonry work to-day. They are regularly arranged in the walls in such a manner as to give the greatest degree of strength and solidity to the structure, and nowhere is cement or mortar utilised. There are no huge pillars or single blocks such as may be seen in other prehistoric edifices, and neither in boldness of design nor imposing grandeur have the temples presented any difficulties to the builders. There is nothing upon a great scale, nothing attempted outside the reach of the most obvious mechanical contrivance or the most ordinary methods of common ingenuity. The chief characteristic is the minute laboriousness of the execution. Nevertheless, the temples excite the imagination, and send the thoughts back to those primeval days when men sought to express their religious feeling through these elaborate monuments of hewn stone.
The Tjandi Kalasan, one of the most beautiful of the temples, is the only ruin in Central Java of which the exact date of construction has been learned with any degree of accuracy. This was ascertained from a stone found in the neighbourhood, inscribed in nâgari characters. Two versionsof the inscription were made—one by the Dutch scholar, Dr. J. Brandes, and the other by the Indian, Dr. R. G. Bhandarkar.
Dr. I. Groneman makes use of both versions to compile the following:—
"Homage to the blessed (or, reverend) and noble Târâ."May she,—the only deliverer of the world, who, seeing how men perish in the sea of life, which is full of incalculable misery, is sure to save them by the three means—grant you the wished for essence, the salvation of the world by the Lord of gods and men."The guru (i.e.teacher) of the Sailendra prince erected a magnificent Târâ temple. At the command (or, the instance) of the guru, the grateful ——(?) made an image of the goddess and built the temple, together with a dwelling (vihara, monastery) for the monks (bhikshus) who know the great vehicle of discipline (Mahâyâna)."By authorisation of the king, the Târâ temple and the monastery for the reverend monks have been built by his counsellors, the pangkur, the tavan, and the tirip (old Javanese civil officers, perhaps soothsayers or astrologers)."The deserving guru of the Sailendra king built the temple in the prosperous reign of the king, the son of the Sailendra dynasty.[63]"The great king built the Târâ temple in honour of the guru (to do homage to the guru) when 700 years of the Saka era were past."The territory of the village of Kâlasa was bestowed on the congregation of priests (monks) in the presence of the pangkur, the tavan and the tirip, and the village chiefs (as witnesses)."This great (incomparable) endowment was made by the king for the monks. It is to be perpetuated by the (later) kings of the Sailendra dynasty, for the benefit of the successive reverend congregations of monks, and be respected (maintained) by the wise pangkur, the good tivan, the wise tirip and others, and by their virtuous wives (according to Dr. Brandes, but "their virtuous foot-soldiers" according to Dr. Bhandarkar)."The king also begs of all following kings that this bridge (or, dam) of charity, which is (a benefit) for all nations, may be perpetuated for all time."May all who adhere to the doctrine of the Jinas, through the blessings of this monastery, obtain knowledge of the nature of things, constituted by the concatenation of causes (and effects), and may they thrive."The —— prince once more requests of (all) future kings that they may protect the monastery righteously."
"Homage to the blessed (or, reverend) and noble Târâ.
"May she,—the only deliverer of the world, who, seeing how men perish in the sea of life, which is full of incalculable misery, is sure to save them by the three means—grant you the wished for essence, the salvation of the world by the Lord of gods and men.
"The guru (i.e.teacher) of the Sailendra prince erected a magnificent Târâ temple. At the command (or, the instance) of the guru, the grateful ——(?) made an image of the goddess and built the temple, together with a dwelling (vihara, monastery) for the monks (bhikshus) who know the great vehicle of discipline (Mahâyâna).
"By authorisation of the king, the Târâ temple and the monastery for the reverend monks have been built by his counsellors, the pangkur, the tavan, and the tirip (old Javanese civil officers, perhaps soothsayers or astrologers).
"The deserving guru of the Sailendra king built the temple in the prosperous reign of the king, the son of the Sailendra dynasty.
[63]"The great king built the Târâ temple in honour of the guru (to do homage to the guru) when 700 years of the Saka era were past.
"The territory of the village of Kâlasa was bestowed on the congregation of priests (monks) in the presence of the pangkur, the tavan and the tirip, and the village chiefs (as witnesses).
"This great (incomparable) endowment was made by the king for the monks. It is to be perpetuated by the (later) kings of the Sailendra dynasty, for the benefit of the successive reverend congregations of monks, and be respected (maintained) by the wise pangkur, the good tivan, the wise tirip and others, and by their virtuous wives (according to Dr. Brandes, but "their virtuous foot-soldiers" according to Dr. Bhandarkar).
"The king also begs of all following kings that this bridge (or, dam) of charity, which is (a benefit) for all nations, may be perpetuated for all time.
"May all who adhere to the doctrine of the Jinas, through the blessings of this monastery, obtain knowledge of the nature of things, constituted by the concatenation of causes (and effects), and may they thrive.
"The —— prince once more requests of (all) future kings that they may protect the monastery righteously."
This inscription, showing clearly that the temple was consecrated to Târâ, the sakti of the deliverer of the world, the fourth Dhyâni Buddha, Amitâbha, the Târâ of the Buddhists of the Northern Church (Mahâyâna, or the "Great Vehicle"), leads Dr. Groneman to the opinion that this particular temple was completed in the year 701 of the Saka era, or 779 of the Christian era. No trace of the Târâ image was found; but this is not to be wondered at when we note the presence of other images in the gardens of private residences in Djocjakarta, and even farther afield, and remember the destruction wrought by foreign soldiers and foreign and native vandals.
In the plains going eastward through Central Java from the Preanger Regencies to the mountains of the Teng'ger Region, one cannot fail to be struck by the remarkable change in the appearance of the natives. The Soendanese of the West may not have the resource and thoughtfulness of the people of the plains, the Javanese, but they have brightness and vivacity which make them more attractive. Their bent of mind is reflected in the bright colours of their dress. In this and other respects, they resemble the Japanese women. In the plains, sombreness of dress is a characteristic—the browns of Mid-Java changing to an almost universal dark blue in the west, reminding the traveller of the Chinese and the inhabitants of the southern Japanese islands.
Everywhere, the male Javanese carry the kris or native knife in the girdle. There is much variety in the blades, handles and sheaths of those weapons, real native damascene blades costing considerable sums. One taking a superficial trip through the island is at a loss to understand why the natives should be armed. According to all accounts, they are a peaceably inclined people, and give theirDutch rulers very little trouble; and if they were at all quarrelsome amongst themselves, the handy weapon would be a source of grave danger. In course of time, perhaps, the knife will disappear as did the sword of civilised Europe a century or more ago. A traffic in Birmingham manufactured krises and knives is done at Djocjakarta and Soerakarta, as well as at Samarang, Sourabaya and Batavia, and anyone who wishes to make a collection of native weapons should be careful to have the assistance of an expert to detect the sham from the real.
The same remark applies to the purchase of sarongs. The ordinary sarong of commerce is manufactured in Lancashire, whence an excellent imitation of the native manufacture is exported. Tourists are also catered for in a native block-stamped variety, which is at least a colourable imitation of the real article. Wherever we went, however, we could see that the native art had not been lost entirely. Women sit outside their little huts by the roadside tracing the most elaborate designs in brown and blue dye upon the cloth with tiny funnel-shaped implements.
This cloth is styled bátik. According to the ground of white, black or red, it is known as bátik látur púti, bátik látur irang, or bátuk látur bang. To prepare it to receive the design, the cloth is steeped in rice water, dried and calendered. The process of the bátik is performed with hot wax ina liquid state applied by means of the chánting. The chánting is usually made of silver or copper, and holds about an ounce of the liquid. The tube is held in the hand at the end of a small stick, and the pattern is traced on both sides of the tightly drawn suspended cloth. When the outline is finished, such portions of the cloth as are intended to be preserved white, or to receive any other colour than the general field or ground, are carefully covered in like manner with the liquid wax, and then the piece is immersed in whatever coloured dye may be intended for the ground of the pattern. The parts covered with wax resist the operation of the dye, and when the wax is removed, by being steeped in hot water till it melts, are found to remain in their original condition. If other colours are to be applied, the process is gone over again. It will thus be seen that a considerable amount of skill is required. In the ordinary course, the process of the bátik occupies about ten days for common patterns, and from fifteen to seventeen days for the finer and more variegated.
Some of the sarongs worn by the native aristocracy and the European ladies are not only beautiful in pattern and working but most expensive in price.
In our excursions in the neighbourhood of Djocjakarta, we had ample opportunity of seeing the industry of the Javanese. Wherever one went,there were long processions of stunted women bravely carrying enormous burdens on their backs, often with a baby slung in the slandang astride the hip. The cheery, coquettish look of the Soendanese was absent here. All seemed to be borne down by the seriousness of a strenuous physical life. No songs arose from the fields; scarcely a head was raised from the laborious planting of tufts of paddy roots as our kreta rattled past. While mothers toiled in the fields, children played near the roadways, or now and then assisted their parents.
We were surprised to see in these fertile plains how prevalent goitre is amongst the women. In the drive from Moentilan to the Boro Budur, at least one in twenty were so afflicted. We commented on this fact to a native official while waiting for our tram at Moentilan, and he assured us that it is remarkably prevalent amongst the common people, but that the men do not suffer in the same proportion as the women. The disease is named "kondo" by the Javanese. We do not know whether any scientific investigations into the disease have been carried out by the Dutch officials; but it would be interesting to know why it should be so prevalent in this area. Goitre is usually associated with people living in mountainous regions, yet we never noticed it in the Preanger and scarcely at all on the mountains of East Java.
Parade of soldiers.SULTAN OF DJOCJA'S SOLDIERS.
SULTAN OF DJOCJA'S SOLDIERS.
Since the above was written, we have had an opportunity of consulting Sir Stamford Raffles' History of Java. He found goitre prevalent in both Java and Sumatra, but is careful to explain that it was observed in certain mountainous districts. The natives ascribed it to the quality of the water, but, says Sir Stamford, "there seems good ground for concluding that it is rather to be traced to the atmosphere. In proof of this, it may be mentioned that there is a village near the foot of the Teng'ger mountains, in the eastern part of the island, where every family is afflicted by this malady, while in another village,situated at a greater elevation, and through which the stream descends which serves for the use of both, there exists no such deformity. These wens are considered hereditary in some families, and seem thus independent of situation. A branch of the family of the present Adipati of Bandung (1811-15) is subject to them, and it is remarkable that they prevail chiefly among the women of the family. They never produce positive suffering nor occasion early death, and may be considered rather as deformities than diseases. It is never attempted to remove them."
We reached Djocjakarta in the ordinary way through Maos. It may be that circumstances may take the traveller off the beaten track, and we are indebted to a friend for the following brief description of the trip from Samarang to Djocja over the mountains:—