On the afternoon of the day of his arrival, a Sunday, having declined a kind invitation to a party for the theatre, X. decided to leave for Buitenzorg. He thought he sniffed fever mingled with the other very apparent odours in his room on the ground floor, while Usoof and Abu not only could not bathe but were unable to send his clothes to the wash. The combination of reasons and of smells was strong.
It may be mentioned here, it being about asaproposin this place as it would be in any other, that all functions in Java, from a reception of the Governor General to a performance by a travelling show, take place on a Sunday.
The train left Batavia at 4.30 and X. reached Buitenzorg at six.
So much that is misleading has been written about Buitenzorg—the Washington of Java, that X. was woefully deceived. It certainly is a beautiful place—indeed exquisitely so, but atraveller is scarcely satisfied with the beauties of nature when he pays to mankind for creature comforts which he fails to obtain. The most agreeable feature of the journey to a stranger who has, as it were, been long hemmed in by dense jungles in the Peninsula, was certainly the long stretches of open country reminding him of the pasture lands and fields which fly past the train at home. Cattle and ponies grazing complete the illusion, and X. could scarcely refrain from outspoken exclamations of delight.
It had been much impressed upon the traveller that he must by all means obtain a room at the Belle Vue Hotel, and if possible, one overlooking the back which governs the famous view. This was achieved by telegram. On arrival a carriage with three ponies conveyed him to the hotel—a poor building on a lovely site, which bristled with possibilities.
The famous back terrace of rooms was at the further side of the courtyard to the entrance, and, once duly installed, X. was delighted with the outlook. Just immediately below the window was the railway line—below that rushed a large, broad, shallow mountain river in which half the native population seemed to be bathing. Beyond these stretched an unbroken view of picturesque villages, whose scattered red-roofed houses peeped here and there from among the palms and other graceful trees. Beyond again, the mountain—with five distinct sugar-loaf tops, tops which had to be watched while counting as they emerged and disappeared in turn from out and in the hanging land of clouds. Yes, the view had certainly not been overrated, and X. was glad he came.
Usoof and Abu refused to consider anything beautiful, and could only exclaim with horror at the bathers in the river, who evidently shocked their ideas of propriety. Their master was not surprised at their comments, but his own views were broader and his moral perceptions perhaps blunter, and experience had taught him the propriety of the injunction concerning Rome and the Romans. But it was nevertheless quite certain that the most moderate London County Councillor could not have borne the sight of that river without a shock to his system. After revelling in the view from the verandah a black coat was donned for dinner, which the wearer subsequently found rendered him conspicuous, and he then crossed the courtyard to the dining room prepared to dine well off fresh fish, mutton, and other products of the country. Although the soup was on the table cooling, the company sat outside round a little table drinking gin and bitters. Not wanting any, X. as Clark Russell would say, hung in the wind, and then after a few seconds—seeing that dinner was certainly ready—seated himself. This isolated actionrendered him almost as conspicuous as his coat, which was also alone in its sombre glory. Presently others followed the stranger's example, and the meal began. Then ensued a period of disillusion. There was no punkah, the glare of the lamplight was blinding, and the food—all of it—coarse, greasy and cold. The soup which had been waiting was of the variety known as tinned, an old acquaintance which X. had hoped to have left in the jungle until his return. This, and other messes, would not have mattered so greatly, had not the proprietor of the hotel, a pompous gentleman (X. afterwards learnt he was President of the Race Club), stood sentry over the door, whence issued the rows of servants with the dishes, narrowly watching what each guest partook of and detecting with an eagle eye the uneatable scraps which the defeated diner had striven to conceal beneath his knife and fork. The most amusing thing during the progress of the meal was the conversation of an elderly English couple, who, in truly British tourist fashion seemed to imagine they were alone, and the people round them but figures of wax who could neither hear nor be affected by anything they might say. "Oh, how they soak the fish in grease," the lady would exclaim; or, "This is good meat, but ruined, yes, positively ruined in the cooking; look, my dear, it is (doubtfully, and sniffing at her plate), it is absolutelysoakedin grease—oh, what a pity, how can you eat it, dear—but you would eat anything," the speaker continued garrulously, "for yesterday you ate the fish on board that steamer when it was almost rotten—I smelt it from my cabin before we came out, etc," and much more in the same strain. To all these domestic remarks, her companion vouchsafed no reply, but continued his dinner as though accustomed to such an accompaniment.
It was as much as X. could do to refrain from laughing, and, fearful of hurting the feelings of others himself, he would take another helping when the proprietor was looking, and felt uncommonly "hot" at the conduct of his compatriot. However, worse was to come, for at the end of dinner, when the "boys" brought coffee made in the way usual to the country—a few drops of cold essence of coffee at the bottom of the cups, which had to be filled up with boiling milk or water—the lady from England could not contain her indignation, but loudly scolded the waiter for such a stingy way of putting so little in the cup, since "coffee should surely be cheap in Java," and then proceeded to empty the contents of all the cups into two, one for herself and one for her husband, while saying with a smile "we like a cup of coffee, not a drop." Then while she sipped her full cup like one on whom there unwillingly dawns the unpleasant consciousness of having made a mistake, thelady further addressed the waiter and asked, "Do they always drink cold coffee in Java?" The waiter, who could only stand passive while this calm robbery was committed—for had not the whole company to wait for a second brew—made reply with the only English of his vocabulary, "yes." X., who had the doubtful advantage of understanding as well as seeing all that was going on, glared fiercely as he saw himself deprived of the only portion of the meal which was at all likely to be good, and could willingly have caused an interruption by using his napkin and bread as a sling and a stone. The "yes" of the native apparently checked the embarrassment which the lady was beginning to feel, and triumphantly she exclaimed, "My goodness, what a country." Then the husband blew his nose with discomfort, and, her attention attracted, his good wife exclaimed, "My dear, you have a cold, let us go to bed," and they went. X., and possibly others, found satisfaction in the thought that people might go to bed after partaking of such a concoction as that couple had done, but that they certainly would not sleep. Nor did they, as the sequel showed. For the lady and her husband also had a room on the terrace suite, and this was divided only by a thin partition from that of X., and though he did not wish to listen, the first words which greeted his gratified ears on the following morning were,"Oh, darling, I have had such a dreadful night; I never closed my eyes." X. heard no more as he delicately buried his head in the pillows, lest he should be dragged too deep in domestic confidences; but he had heard enough—he was avenged. And they knew themselves it was the coffee, since it was noticed that this night after dinner the sleepless couple each firmly declined the brimming cups, which, with kind forethought for the public good, the proprietor had ordered to be handed to them.
Early in the morning X. went out to explore, and, naturally, his first visit was to those wonderful gardens which are the first in the world, and are the resort of naturalists from all portions of the globe.
In a sketch of this nature it would be presumption to attempt to describe the marvels of this garden, one of the sights of the East, which it is worth while going to Java to see. During his walk the traveller was at every turn astonished at the evidences of wealth amongst the natives, the tiled roofed houses and plentifully stocked orchards and gardens, while goats and sheep browsed everywhere. In the streets everyone appeared to be selling—there seemed none left to buy—and they sold the most attractive looking fruits and vegetables, together with a variety of flowers. The population is large, and for some distance round the town stretched rows and rows of native houses builtclose together, backs and fronts facing each other in every angle and position, showing that the people must surely live together in unity,en familleor ratheren masse, in marked contrast to the Malay villages, where, as a rule, each house stands in an enclosure of its own grounds. But there they have unlimited space, here apparently they have unlimited people.
Himself living an isolated life amongst a native race, it was only natural that X. should be more inclined than the ordinary traveller to notice the people of the country and their surroundings. He had heard so many stories of their oppression by the Dutch and the uncomfortable conditions under which they lived, that the actual appearance of the natives came as a surprise, which only increased the more he saw and the further he travelled in Java.
As to higher life in Java, to any one who has been there or knows anything of the country, its social conditions are well known. But however much may have been previously heard of them, it cannot but give the ordinary Englishman a shock, when he is for the first time confronted with them in their reality. Intermarriage with the people of the country is not only condoned, but almost encouraged, and it is no uncommon thing to meet the children of these marriages in the highest society. Cases occur where people, holding great positions, legitimizetheir children, and after years of unsolemnized intercourse lead their mother to the altar. The mothers of many children being educated in Holland, probably in the future to enter the service of the country, are simply native women still living in their villages. The accident of birth would seldom be considered a bar when ascending official heights, nor is a mixed parentage any obstacle to such distinction.
Many instances of this were observed by X. during his visit, and, though the state of affairs appeared to him rather strange, he was obliged to own that from a Dutch point of view there existed many and weighty arguments in its favour, theprosandconsof such a question are certainly beyond the scope of a book which only purports to note for the benefit of intending travellers such things as merit observation.
So far as I can gather, there were few excursions to be made from Buitenzorg and few sights, but in the afternoon he drove to see a famous stone covered with Hindoo inscriptions, the first indication brought to his notice of the real origin of this now Mahommedan people.
Late in the day X. decided to call upon the official who holds the position corresponding with that of an English Colonial Secretary, and to ask his assistance in obtaining a pass to continue his journey into the interior. Though warned not to call before 7 p.m., just as it was gettingdusk, the traveller felt nervous and fidgety, unable to really believe that he would be doing right to make a call so late, and thus six o'clock found him approaching the very modest-looking dwelling in which the great official dwelt. A glance was enough to show that he was wrong and his informant right, since in front of him, at a desk in a room off the verandah, sat his host still clothed in the undress of pyjamas—not having yet made his toilet for the evening. However, though X. felt guilty of agaucherie, the sense of it came entirely from his own consciousness, and not at all from the manner of the gentleman whom he interrupted, for without the least trace of either annoyance or surprise, but as though the untimely appearance of a stranger and a foreigner was a daily occurrence, he bade him welcome with polite cordiality. This official was as agreeable and well informed as anyone the traveller had met, and X. always waxes enthusiastic when speaking of him. With true courtesy he at once abandoned the work on which he was engaged, without that last lingering look at the table which so often ruins the grace of a similar sacrifice, and forthwith evinced the utmost interest in the affairs of his guest. He quickly reassured him concerning his pass, and, on hearing that he was in some way connected with the Government across the Straits, immediately promised to procure for him a special permitwhich would enable him to travel where he would, and ensure assistance from all with whom he came in contact. Though, at this time relying upon his own ability to manage the order of his going, X. may not have attached much importance to the future part which this permit would play, at the end of his travels he gladly acknowledged that it proved of the utmost utility, and there was more than one occasion on which he felt impelled to record words of gratitude towards him who had so thoughtfully provided it.
Aproposof the calling hour, it may be mentioned here that this is a social rock on which many English people strike. I use this nautical simile advisedly since, not so very long ago, no less a person than a British Admiral wishing to follow the hours to which he was accustomed paid his official call on the Dutch Naval Commander at five o'clock. The Dutch Admiral, who was not then dressed, and did not intend to dress until seven o'clock, declined to receive him at such an unusual hour, and the question of dress, always one of the first importance in the British Navy, then became rather a burning one, until tactful mediators paved the way for a more successful visit. Whereas, in the East, English people maintain their usual habits and customs—did not our grandfathers wear tall hats when pig-sticking in India?—the Dutch in Java adopt the habits and the clothes they consider mostfitting for the climate. It is not intended to imply that both are loose, though certainly the former are somewhat relaxed. No visitor to the country is competent to give a judgment for or against the manners he finds there. X. longed to impress this on more than one tourist whom he met on his travels.
Few Dutch ladies in Java mind being seen in what to us appears undress—a sarong and kabaya—and frequently, when without guests, it is the custom to dine in this scanty apparel. In consequence there is a dislike to dining out, which involves the wearing of European clothes in all their fashionable tightness, and many a story is told in Batavia of sudden illness amongst lady guests during the evening—illness easily attributable to the unusual compression of garments, worn only on such rare occasions.
There is seldom necessity for dressing since Europeans scarcely ever call in Java—of ladies it may be said they never call—though in the mornings they drive round in covered carriages visiting their intimate friends, clad in the skirts of the country so universally adopted.
It was this same custom which caused discomfiture to X. on the following day, when having received the promised special permit, a document calling upon all officials to assist him, in the name of the Governor-General himself, he decided that it would be only right that he should present himself at the house of the ruler who had signed it, and in token of gratitude and respect inscribe his name in his book. As the traveller had no intention of seeing anyone or attempting to enter the gorgeous palace which stands in the midst of the famous gardens, there seemed no need to trouble about the time for the call, and therefore it seemed well to make it the excuse for a walk and fit it in with his afternoon stroll. Accordingly about 5 o'clock found him walking up the broad avenue, on either side of which were browsing deer in great numbers—a very novel feature to anyone who for years had only seen such creatures wild excepting one time when—but no I must withhold thetemptation to wander off the broad avenue which leads the visitor up to the stately pile in front of him as, like he did a little further on, I would wish to get it over. For it is not pleasant even to record the admittedly awkward situations in which X., who had always prided himself on hissavoir faire, now so often found himself.
As he approached the portico (it reminded him much of Gorhambury, the seat of Lord Verulam, in Hertfordshire) the stranger became aware, rather than actually saw, that there were two figures seated on the main verandah having tea. He almost felt their eyes upon him in wonder and amusement, and, as he gradually neared the steps without in any way looking up, it was in some mysterious manner conveyed to him that these figures were ladies, and their dress, the sarong and kabaya! What was he to do. He could not turn and fly, nor could he diverge from the broad path and wander across the grass like any common trespasser—and, even while he wondered, his steps took him deliberately on, feeling self-conscious in the most literal understanding of the word—and inexorably each moment took him nearer, though in the endeavour to put off the evil moment he had, perhaps unknown to himself, slowed down his previously deliberate saunter until his feet were now doing little more than marking slow time. However, the visitor gazed alternately at the tops of the trees and the roof of the palace, as thoughthings of absorbing interest were there taking place, and at last he was obliged to realize that he had reached the lowest step of the imposing staircase.
X. assures me that it is a fact, he never once lowered his eyes or focussed the little party before him, although ultimately the tea table could not have been more than a few yards off. There stood the stranger with a vacant expression which would have made the fortune of a performer in a waxwork show, and hoped and almost prayed that a servant of some kind would appear, receive his signature or his card and allow him to return to the comfortless obscurity of his hotel. There was no bell, and no servant came, and the silence at length became unbearable. Relief came at last from the tea party for the voice of a lady suddenly fairly shrieked for a "boy." After this explosion the tension of the situation was relieved, and there was a sound as of chairs hastily pushed back and the patter of little feet and the rustle of sarongs, which led X. to infer that there had been some sort of a retreat. Then a flurried native appeared, he seemed a kind of gardener hastily fetched from his duties, possibly the mowing machine, and pouring forth words in a strange dialect he pointed wildly to another flight of steps and another door. Following this menial, a veritabledeus ex machina, X. was led down those palatial steps and up another flight round the corner. There thegardener threw open a door and seemed disposed to resign his custody of the stranger, preparing to return again to his machine. But X. steadily declined to enter alone into that vast hall, nor would he even stay to look for a book in which to write his name, for he felt that the hasty retreat he had heard was not carried beyond the nearest pillars, and each moment he tarried, the fugitives were wondering what he could be doing while, alas, their tea was getting cold. And so he thrust his card, his only guarantee of good faith, into the soiled hand of the solitary attendant of this Eastern palace and fled—but fled he hoped with dignity. As he walked down the avenue with conscious and deliberate steps—admiring the view on the right of him and the view on the left of him—never looking back, though the desire for one glance was so overpowering that the nape of his neck actually ached, he conquered, and finally emerged from those great gates without any further satisfaction to the curiosity aroused by his first involuntary glimpse. But so long as he remained in Java he never paid another call before dusk, a more convenient time, when suchcontretempsare not likely to occur.
X. was informed that the proper journey from Buitenzorg was by carriageviaPoentjuk to Sindanglaya, where a stay should be made at Gezondleid's establishment after securing an upstairs room. The next stage in the traveller's journey is to Tjandjoer and thence to Garvet. And after a week at Garvet on again to Djoedja, Solo, Semarang, etc., but the traveller had already had sufficient of hotel life in Java, and so determined to at once avail himself of a kind invitation he had received to stay on an estate, not many miles from Soekaboemi. After a few hours' rail in a first-class carriage (this fact is worth recording as it was very seldom that such accommodation could be had, even if a first-class ticket had been issued), he duly reached the station where he had been instructed to alight. Here his host had sent two ponies to meet him, one for himself and one for his servant, as well as several coolies to carry his luggage. So, Abubeing left at the house of the stationmaster in care of the rest of the luggage (a terrible quantity, the cost of its transport almost equalled the first-class fare of its owner), X., followed by Usoof, started on the ten mile ride which led to their destination. The path was a very rough one, and for the first portion of the distance the way was through an open country planted with padi as far as the eye could reach. The little ponies cared nothing for the stony path, and went gamely along as though accustomed to canter on a hard high road. After crossing the valley the route began to ascend the range of hills, at the summit of which, 2,000 feet high, the estate was situated. For almost the entire length of this ascent the view was so glorious that the traveller continued to exclaim in wonder to his companion to stop and look. Usoof who, as has been related, was a native of the country, affected to gaze at it with the unconcern of a proprietor, merely reminding his master that he had always said, that his was a very fine country. For miles below the padi fields stretched away narrowing in the distance, and here and there amidst this expanse of emerald green were dotted little clumps of green of a darker shade, these being the trees surrounding the clusters of houses inhabited by the fortunate owners of the land. And every now and again athwart the green carpet, stretched out below, glittered belts of water sparkling like silver in thesun. The hills, which were also all planted with padi, looked like grassy slopes with a back-ground formed by terraces of hill-tops. One above the other they lay in ranges, until, in the furthest distance, mountains of noble height towered like giants above them all. It surely was a view worth going far to see, a wealth of green such as an untravelled eye could not even dimly realise. No troubles of travel, no greasy cookery or breadless meals could matter one jot if this was the reward. The view repaid the enterprise even if the path by which it were approached led only to a wayside inn of the most unpretentious type, but its joys were enhanced by the anticipation of a visit to a couple well known for their hospitality to strangers. The host being a fellow-countryman who had had the good fortune to marry a Dutch lady of most distinguished family. Almost at the summit of the hill, about eight miles from the station, stood a little halting house bearing the English-looking signboard with the legend of the "Pig and Whistle." Here refreshments awaited the travellers, and then the journey was continued along a jungle path which shortly emerged on to the cultivated slopes of the estate. These slopes were covered with cinchona trees, which X. afterwards learnt were in process of being rapidly replaced by tea-plants. Presently at a dip in the road the first glimpse was caught of the house below. A little English cottage, it appeared,nestling cosily in a hollow, close beside a mountain stream. A nearer approach revealed that the cottage was covered with blue convolvulus and other creepers, and that the verandahs were enclosed with glass. It all reminded him somehow of a well-known cottage by Boulter's Lock, and there came a curious thrill of home memories at the sight of a typical English home. On the further side of the stream stood a little detached pavilion, kept exclusively for guests, after the fashion of all Dutch houses in the East. This annexe is generally considered the house of the elder son, but it is more usually built and used for the accommodation of guests; an excellent arrangement in a country where both entertainers and entertained wish occasionally to repose in attire, whose lightness is best suited to the climate. A rustic bridge connected the two buildings, and just above it was the bath room, into which a portion of the stream had been diverted, so as to form a natural shower bath. The stream and bridge and cottage, with their back-ground of hills and fore-ground of roses, combined to make such a picture that X. longed to be able to sketch it and take it away and keep it. The interior of this cottage was as cosy and home-like as the outside promised it would be, and, wonder of wonders! it had real wall paper on the walls. This almost unheard of luxury in the East was a triumph of the skill of the hostess, and had so farsuccessfully defied the ravages of mildew and damp. The chief characteristic of the house was that it looked like a home, its tasteful decoration and contents indicating that the inhabitants had come to stay. Most houses in the East have an unmistakeable air of being mere temporary shelters, where the owners are lodging till they can get away to their household goods now warehoused "at home."
This was only the second house X. had seen in this part of the world, where the owners looked as if they lived in it (the other was in Selangor). In this ideal spot it was the good fortune of the traveller to spend some days—days pleasantly spent in riding about the estate—which he soon grew to covet, and in watching the planting of the tea, which, it was hoped, would eventually enable the kind host and hostess to return with wealth to their native land. The climate at this elevation was delightful, cool, and invigorating, and it was possible to follow English hours and habits. Instead of getting up at 5 a.m. to go for a ride, as was the custom in Pura Pura, X. found himself starting for a ride after breakfast, about ten o'clock, without fear of the sun, and this total change lifted his spirits, and he recorded silent thanks to The Community who had suggested Java for his jaunt.
As may be imagined, during his stay in the hills the visitor was able to learn much about thecountry, and hear many things that not only interested him, but excited his admiration for the administration of the precise and order-loving race who owned this beautiful island. Contrary to what he had been led to believe, chiefly, perhaps, by a book which had given currency to the impression, he found that the planters were greatly assisted by the Government officials, who endeavour to work with them, and, whenever possible, to meet their wishes. The coolies certainly all appeared happy, when X. got accustomed to seeing them crouch servilely in the ditches when he or his host passed by. English officials in the native states of the Peninsula are accustomed to pass their lives amongst the Malays, to listen to and help them in their troubles, and to be constantly surrounded by them as followers or companions, and the inmates and affairs of each household are known, much as those of the cottagers on his estate would be to a home-staying country squire in England. It can then be understood how strange it seemed to X. to ride amongst people of the same race and see them crouch down as he passed, not even daring to lift their eyes, as it is counted an offence should they meet the gaze of one of the ruling race. What could the latter really know of these people, he wondered, when knowledge had to be obtained from across such a social gulf as this. He could not conceal the disagreeable impression madeupon him, but many reasons were afterwards given to him as to why this state of things should exist, and some of them were, he was compelled to admit, good ones. The chief and foremost was, perhaps, that all Javanese customs and manners are full of exaggerated formality and etiquette. These the Dutch adopted as they found them, including all outward tokens of respect for those of superior rank, deeming that all Europeans should be treated with the same ceremony as the native headman.
One of the other reasons given was that the Dutch, being a small nation and unable to keep a large force in the country, must rely upon keeping the natives down in their proper place—under foot—for the continuance of the supremacy they had achieved. X., as others would do, can only hope that this view, though heard from several sources, was given to him "sarcastic like," and that it was expected he would duly appreciate the irony. And perhaps he did, seeing that he came from a country where, without the presence of a single soldier, the widely scattered, and in many cases isolated, officials can act as the friends and advisers of a native race without the least fear of any loss of dignity or position, both accepted as so much a matter of course as to make any question regarding them impossible.
Java is, perhaps, the most governed country in the world. This phrase is not the writer's; hemerely quotes an opinion to be found in books on Java, written by men entitled to judge, and frequently expressed by people our traveller met in that island. The people are united by what might be described as chains of officials, and each link in each chain submits periodically precise reports on everything and everybody within his charge. The system sounds flawless, and the head of all, the chief official in the country, has thus pigeon-holed in front of him more detailed and readily-found information about his subjects than is, perhaps, possessed by any other ruler in the world. This is a matter which might excite admiration, and there is no doubt that it in some respects merits it, and the contrast presented to our own system of government in the adjacent mainland is worthy of examination. But it would be out of place in a book which professes to do no more than describe a pleasant tour, and X.'s opinion upon a question of such gravity, even though formed after a lengthy sojourn amongst the Malays, and no little personal experience of the life and manners of an Eastern people, may be omitted. It may be recorded, however, that the question made him ponder, and he wondered if the officials who knew everybody also knew everything, and whether many matters worthy of record did not find themselves washed on one side as the stream of reports wound its way from one nativeofficial to another, then to the subordinate European officials (sometimes married to native women), and then once more on to the pigeon-holes of the central authority. As I write I have before me a list of fifteen titles of native officials given to X. by one of themselves. There is no need to enumerate them here, though allusion to them may suggest the possibilities of the various stages of the journey to the final pigeon-holes.
Natives themselves have evidently formed opinions on these matters, since in some of the native states of the Peninsula it was always the custom of the people to invite a raja from another country to come and rule over them, experience having taught them that a man with interest and relations in the country might not always be sufficiently impartial; in the same manner the native Mahommedan priest is always selected from another nationality. However, to return to the place where we left X. riding along amongst the young tea plants. When the coolies were not running away from him or crouching to avoid the shock of meeting his imperial glance, he was bound to admit that they were apparently happy and contented, and, seeing the circumstances under which they lived, it would have been strange had they not been so. These people were provided with ample work within easy reach of their homes, which lay among the surrounding hills. It seemed an earthly labour paradise to an official,accustomed to hear the complaints of planters lamenting losses due to their labourers, imported coolies from India, China or Java, running away. Not only is the lot of the coolies in Java more conducive to content than those in the Peninsula, but the planter is also happier in the current rate of wages; 20 to 25 cents a day (Java cents) and for women 15 cents. On this estate, as on most others, there was a festival fund for the coolies, that is a certain sum of money is spent annually on their recreation, providing for musical instruments and paying for travelling shows, etc. X. felt that he had had the best of shows provided for him, a show estate, where the supply of labour was cheap and unlimited, and the people well cared for without any elaborate legislation being required for their protection. Here at any rate was a positive result of the administration of the Dutch, and a confutation of the stories of down-trodden peasants in Java; and the traveller made up his mind that if possible he would one day be a planter and that his plantation should be in Java.
Life was so smooth and even in this little cottage by the river that days flew by with that pleasant rapidity which leaves nothing to record except a general sense of restful enjoyment. One expedition, however, might be described, a visit paid to a neighbouring estate which had been advertised for sale, as giving a glimpse of a typical phase of up-country life. The call was paid about noon, and after riding down a steep hill, where natives were busily engaged in planting tea, the two Englishmen came upon a little square white house half hidden in a bend in the stream. This building had a deserted, untidy look which was intensified by the state of the garden which surrounded it; even at some distance from the house the scent of roses was perceptible, and in the garden itself, if such a wilderness deserves the name, the odour was almost overpowering. The place was a miniature forest of rose-bushes, loaded with lovely blossoms,roses such as X. had not seen since he left his native land. Everything looked untidy and ragged and ruined; the house, the creepers, the rose bushes, the grass, the pigeon lofts all spoke of neglect and want of money to put them straight, a want caused by the fall in the price of cinchona, a misfortune which had involved many a fair estate and reduced it to the desolate and unkempt condition exemplified by the one now visited. But even unkempt and uncared for, what a picture it made! It was the realisation of a poetic death—the victim smothered by roses beside the singing waters of a brook. It was a long time before any one came, and the two visitors sat in the verandah feeling rather shy and uncomfortable, for this was the neighbour's first visit, and the native, who had ushered them in, vanished, sending weird cries around the tangled garden paths as though to summon his master home.
At length, after long waiting, the silence and suspense, and the wonder of who would come, from which direction, and when, grew almost unbearable, and the absurd situation so wrought on their nerves that both visitors gave vent to little gasps of laughter, brought on probably by the same nervous sensations which compel children to misbehave in church—direct promptings of the evil one, inducing a desire to do that which we know we should not do. At length,after it had been debated in hurried whispers whether a departure could not be effected, the lady of the house appeared upon the scene. She was a tall, large lady, in appearance typically Dutch. She wore the usual white linen jacket and skimpy sarong, and her legs were bare. She gave a cordial greeting in Dutch, at least to X. it was Dutch, for he knew nothing whatever of the language. This his friend carefully explained, so he surmised, as the lady gave vent to various guttural exclamations of astonishment and turned to gaze at him as though he were indeed a strange person to behold.
The conversation between the two then continued glibly, and X. was quite forgotten, and he felt neglected and grew fidgety, realizing that he extremely disliked this novel sensation of being ignored, without the possibility of attracting any attention to himself by a remark. He was soon to learn however, that those trifling inconveniences of which we are cognizant are generally less unpleasant than those we do not know, for presently there was a stir and a general rising from seats as the husband of the good lady emerged from the house on to the verandah. This gentleman was tall and dark, with a pointed grey beard like an American in a caricature. He was clothed in a strangedeshabille, which ended in bare feet thrust loosely into carpet slippers, and when the eyes of the visitors reached thus far theyrealized why his complexion was so dark. After the first greetings the host—who X. afterwards learnt had once held high office under Government, which he gave up for planting—turned towards him and proceeded to harangue him without full stops. There is no other way to describe what took place, as he continued to pour language at his guest without the least apparent desire for reply. To say that the visitor felt uncomfortable would be to mildly describe his feelings—he had wished for recognition, and surely had it now. What would his host think of him, if he allowed him to continue to talk and never informed him that he could not understand one word of Dutch? Again and again he endeavoured to stem the torrent of words and explain both in English and in French, and this being of no avail, at the risk of appearing rude and inattentive, X. turned to his friend and begged him to make the matter clear. The friend said something in Dutch, but he must, it seemed, have said the wrong thing, since it had not the slightest effect, and the host continued his talk, probably all about the advantages of the estate he wished to sell. Then, regarding the situation as hopeless, X. fixed his expression into one of intelligent attention and waited for him to stop. But he was not so attentive that he did not presently hear the good lady say something to his friend which caused him to exclaim as though astonished, and with asuppressed click of a laugh he turned to X. and said, "It's all right. Madame has just told me he is stone deaf and can't hear a word, so it's no use my saying anything, he would understand you as well." "But can't the lady tell him I don't know Dutch?" exclaimed X. almost desperately—but too late, for by this time his friend was again deeply engaged in conversation with his hostess, and there was nothing to be done but once more give his assumed attention to his host. A pleasant situation truly, to go to a man's house for the first time and so conduct yourself that you feel certain he will presently believe that it was your intention to deliberately insult and make a fool of him. X. will never forget that quarter of an hour. At last the conversation ended by its appearing that the lady had suggested, and her visitor agreed to, a walk round the estate. When he gathered this, X. eagerly seconded the proposition, but it took all joy out of it to find that the verbose proprietor insisted upon accompanying them himself to do the honours of the place. It was in vain that X. endeavoured to plant him on his friend, for his prolonged assumption of intelligent interest had apparently been so successful, that his host was flattered and never left his side. However, a few climbs up slippery by-paths—I fear deliberately chosen—soon dislodged the slippers, and the poor man was compelled to heed what, it is hoped, he interpreted as politeentreaties not to put himself out for his visitors and return to the house. Then ensued a tour of the estate, which had once been of great promise and now, alas, was overrun with undergrowth and weed. After their walk the Englishmen found that the most hospitable preparations had been made for their entertainment, and, more, that these had evidently been seen to by a daughter whose presence had not before been observed. Would I could describe this young girl as she appeared to X., who has confessed that he found it quite impossible to find words with which to paint a picture which could do her the scantiest justice. Simply attired in the same costume as her mother, but oh, how becoming that costume can be! This charming apparition carried round the glasses and offered wine to the visitors, while X. wished heartily that the dear old host would harangue him ever so long that he might keep silence and watch—watch this dainty, dark-eyed maiden, who looked as if she had stepped out of some old picture to render those little domestic services after the custom of days gone by; and as he received his glass from the charming attendant, he endeavoured to think what it was this kindly service most called to mind, and in his memory he found it in those hospitable houses in New Zealand beyond the Bay of Islands where once he visited, and all the daily life was like a glimpse of a century that had passed. Butthough visiting was good, X. was soon wanting to improve his position and show that he was capable of taking a more active part in the conversation than he had hitherto done, and so reckless of his host's disgust at a sudden lack of attention, he rose and went to the side table to sniff at the beautiful flowers and peep at the sample sacks of coffee which lay piled in the corner of the room. But such little wiles to obtain speech with the modest maiden were of small use, when one party spoke English and the other Dutch, while neither of them knew both. It is true that X. could have carried on a conversation in Malay, and he was sure that that language would be well known to all the family, but he had been warned that people in Java did not like to be addressed in a language they considered fit only for a medium of communication with their servants. An invitation to stay and lunch was refused—in Dutch—and the planter friend afterwards explained that he had done so, as he thought X. would not have liked to go without bread, since in such establishments up country bread was never found. As if—under the circumstances—X. would have cared whether he ate bread or rice, provided the rose-nymph had handed it to him; and so alas! they rode away beyond the fragrance of the roses and through the neglected grounds, carrying with them a new memory of home life which it will be hard toforget. The shabby, neglected house—the sacks of coffee and flowers run riot—the deaf, courteous ex-official, perhaps proud of his descent from some great Makassar chief—the kindly lady, embodiment of perfect health, who long ago had left her home in Europe for life in a distant land with the husband of her choice—and last but not least of all these impressions of that day—their child—reared in a glorious country unspoilt by contact with civilization—simple, unaffected, a picture from the past.
After leaving the cottage on the estate X. started for Garvet. The view from the train, as it reached its destination, was certainly one of the most beautiful that could be imagined. Long reaches of padi fields, backed by hills in a high state of cultivation, and the whole watered by little gushing torrents that looked cool and refreshing in the all-surrounding sun.
It is impossible to describe the scenery as it appeared to the traveller, or in any way to do it justice. It is altogether new and unlike anything seen in other countries, with the exception, perhaps, of Ceylon or Japan, and it is worth a journey from Europe to see.
The hotel at Garvet proved to be a combination of little buildings, scattered about in the gardens surrounding the main buildings, or across the road in enclosures of their own. X. obtained one of these cottages, and felt that he would be fairly comfortable, till an inspection of the bathing arrangements made him shudder.
When dinner time arrived,table d'hotealso served to dispel illusions. There was the same absence of punkah, the same glaring light, and succession of half-cooked clammy dishes. There were only a few diners, apparently mostly residents of the place who boarded at the hotel. These gentlemen had put on black coats, and made a kind of toilet for the evening meal. But the penance they thus endured was brief, as, after hastily disposing of sufficient of the viands to satisfy their individual wants, they retired to their verandahs, where X. soon saw them reclining in all the comfort of pyjamas and bare feet. Apparently the coating of civilization was not sufficiently thin to be congenial.
In the morning the traveller went to pay his respects to the Assistant-Resident, who received him very kindly, and gave him all the information he required. This rather interrupted the work of the office as, whenever the Assistant-Resident turned to any employee to ask how far such and such a place might be distant, or the tariff of carriages, etc., the person so addressed, no matter how engaged, would, before reply, immediately flop on to his knees. The Regent was also calling on the representative of the Government, and to him the Englishman was introduced. This native functionary was fat and well-looking, but did not seem to exactly bristle with intelligence.
The Assistant-Resident very kindly conversed freely with his visitor about matters affecting the natives, and gave him much information, which, from the nature of his own work in Pura Pura, interested him greatly. To those whom the subject interests, the land system in Java is too well known to need comment here, but there were a few facts learnt by X. which should remove any idea amongst those who have not studied the question, that the laws were either harsh or intricate. Indeed, they seem to attain that brevity and simplicity which are the great desideratum when dealing with a native peasantry. Thus, a man need pay no rent until his land is in bearing. Coffee is the only product whose sale to Government is compulsory. All land is classified and subject to a fixed rent, there is therefore a safeguard that the fruits of an owner's industry will not be taxed. Anyone can complain if he thinks his land is rated too high, and should be in a lower class, and the complaint receives immediate attention. Though the population is large, there is seldom any trouble about boundary marks in the padi fields. Owners are content with long custom and local knowledge, and their reliance on their host of native officials never fails. All new land must be fenced round, if it is contiguous to Government land, and on all plantations people must themselves plant trees as boundaries and upkeep them. And one register oftitles with columns filled in and signed, according to its cultivation and classification, answers for all. Lastly, let it be mentioned that there is a golden rule, that a native cannot sell his land to anyone but his own countrymen, neither to European, Arab or Chinese. Thus no individual, tempted by the speculation, can by his selfish action, cause harm or annoyance to his neighbours. This one register of titles, mentioned above, is gradually filled in and signed as the land is brought into cultivation, and an exact record is thus kept of the actual present condition of each native holding. When finally signed, and the land yields produce, rent is demanded. The advantage of simplicity can only be realized by those whose lot it has been to pose as the bringer of glad tidings, and expound the advantages of the last new land code with its many paragraphs to an ignorant native population, who, unreasoning, tenaciously cling to the title which they already hold and think they understand, obstinately refusing, speak the speaker never so plausibly, to exchange it for the very newest that can be given to them from the most up-to-date land code in existence.
After his interview with the courteous official, X. departed, pondering on all he had heard, and bearing with him a memo, on which was written the various places of interest which he had been recommended to visit in the neighbourhood. Onhis return to the hotel the traveller passed what appeared to be the local club.
The first thing an English official in an outstation in India or the Peninsula will do for a stranger arriving with introductions, is to offer to put him up for the club, and unless there seem strong reason against it, he will most probably ask him to dinner. Apparently this was not the custom here, and so X. was free to wander about the little town and explore, with nothing more exciting to look forward to than a repetition of last night's gruesome meal in company with the suffering tenants of the prandial coats.
Garvet seemed to boast of an enormous population for there were endless rows, or rather groups of houses, crowded together, face to face, back to back, and side by side, giving the idea of a casual conglomeration of several villages. All these were scrupulously clean and neat, and fenced round with little bamboo rails. Nearly every house had a tiled roof, and all were of a superior class to the majority of those up country in the Peninsula. The streets were little short of marvellously swept and clean, and it was decided by X. during that walk that Garvet was the cleanest Eastern town he had ever seen—the capital of Pura Pura of course excepted. Much had been talked of about the hot baths at Tji Panao, and so the traveller determined to make that his first excursion. Hiring a conveyance drawn by three ponies abreast—reminding him of his early youth when he would wonder at a smart turn-out in the Park at home—three ponies abreast driven by a well known leader of society and fashion,before the days of two-wheeled pony carts and bicycles, X. told the driver to go to Tji Panao, and looked forward to spending a delicious half hour lying in warm water like that of the springs in New Zealand, which send the bather forth invigorated and refreshed. Another disillusion was in store for him, however, in this country where nature has done so much and man—for comfort—so little. The baths were located in a shed on the side of a hill. This shed had three partitions. In each partition was a shallow brick hole in which it was possible to sit. The hot water was conveyed into these holes by means of pipes, one at the head of each. The floor all round the bath was dirty, and the only furniture was one cane chair. The depth of the water in the baths was about three inches, and in this on slimy bricks the bather had to sit miserably, with the lower portion of his body immersed in warm water while the upper remained high and dry in the comparatively cool air above. X. had made preparations for a prolonged stay in the water, and came provided with literature to pass the time, but a very brief dip under the circumstances proved enough, and he soon unhitched his clothing from the back of the chair and prepared to depart. Close by these baths was a building containing four rooms, apparently a Government Rest House, very well furnished and comfortable, so it was evident that people came there on purpose to make use of thebaths. The hot water springs possess great capabilities, and with a little trouble and expenditure of money they should become both enjoyable and a source of revenue.
There were one or two other excursions to be made from Garvet, but the only one worthy of mention was that which was made to the volcano at Tjiseroepan. One morning, together with Usoof and Abu, for X. was growing tired of sight seeing all alone, having obtained permission from the kind Assistant-Resident to use the Government Rest House, he drove to Tjiseroepan. The road was excellent and the route, needless to say, lay through a beautiful country. Here, as everywhere else, all well-to-do natives were riding ponies. The distance was thirteen miles. Tjiseroepan is a little village in the hills at the foot of the mountain which it was proposed to ascend on the following day. The traveller was received by the Assistant Wodena, a native official who had been riding suspiciously behind and before the carriage during the last two miles. After reading the credentials of the stranger and finding that he could converse in Malay, the local magnate became quite cordial, and made X. free of the Government Rest House. This was well furnished with beds and tables, etc., but glass and crockery were not provided.
The Assistant Wodena conducted the visitor round the village, which was a model of neatness. Each house stood in a garden, growing coffee,vegetables, and strawberries. The head of the village and a few others live in very good houses, and there seemed to be ponies without number. The village perched on a slope and the cultivated hillside bore some resemblance to a scene in the South of Italy. The usual signs of prosperity and content reigned everywhere, and neither in this village, nor elsewhere, where X. conversed with the natives could he find anything to explain the commonly accepted view that the people of Java are inimical to their rulers.
The Rest House proved comfortable, X. had brought his own provisions, which his servants cooked, and for once he enjoyed a hot and palatable meal. There was plenty of opportunity for conversation with the Assistant Wodena, who was quite willing to discourse on the customs of the country, and he gave a most interesting account of the elaborate etiquette of Javanese Rajas, and of the extraordinary deference paid by commoners to rank. He in his turn asked many questions concerning Malacca and the Malay Straits, about which his interlocutor was able to give him all the information sought for.
The next morning the sightseer and his followers ascended the mountain on ponies to see the volcano. This was a kind of inferno with wicked mouths which looked like ventilators from the bowels of the earth spitting and hissing blinding steam.
The whole face of the mountain was yellow with sulphur, and the air was sickening from its smell. Usoof and Abu were not a little terrified by this awful experience, and grasped their Tuan by the arm entreating him not to venture near what, they evidently thought, were the gates of hell.
I feel that I have paid sufficient deference to my instructions in recording the impressions the scenery made upon the traveller, and shall therefore omit all mention of what he saw while descending the mountain. He described it as wonderful, and those of my readers who have arrived thus far will be prepared to admit the accuracy of the description.
The party reached Garvet in time to catch the two o'clock train to Tassikmalaja, and thus make a start for Tjilatjap.
To start for Tjilatjap was such an unusual departure that it merits a chapter all to itself. No one had apparently left Garvet for Tjilatjap for years, since it had been pronounced to be one of the most unhealthy places in the island. The correct thing for every traveller to do is to go to Tassikmalaya for the night and proceed from thence to Djoeja by train, go by carriage to Beroboeddoer, where a halt for the night can be made at a Government Rest House. The drive is twenty-five miles. The next morning the traveller should drive ten miles further to Magelang, while his luggage goes by train or bullock cart. From Magelang Amberawa is reached by another drive of twenty miles, and from here the railway can be taken to Semerang or back to Djoeja, and from there to Solo, a three hours' journey.
X. was informed that everyone took this route, but he persisted in starting for Tjilatjap, notwithstanding that the lady who presided over the hotel assured him that it was the most feverstricken port in the country. Had he known then as much as he subsequently learnt of the evil reputation of the place it is probable that the traveller might have changed his plans. As it was, he only replied that he was inured to fever and did not mind. At that time he had no particular reason for going to one place more than another, and therefore the one which drove him in this direction was good enough to serve his purpose. Usoof desired to commence the search for his mother. He had no recollection of the village where he was born, but believed it to be somewhere near the coast which, considering the country was an island, was somewhat a vague indication. After assisting his Tuan to study a map he exclaimed that the name Tjilatjap sounded familiar to him, and sure enough it was a large town on the coast. Now, he argued, it could not be familiar unless he had heard it before, and that could only have been when he was in Java, and as he was then little more than a baby, only the names of places in the neighbourhood of his birth place could have been familiar to him. It mattered little to X. where he went, the further away from the beaten track, the more opportunity for studying the natives and learning something of their lives. So he readily agreed to go to Tjilatjap. It was only after all plans had been settled that its evil reputation for fever was heard of.
The first stage of the journey was to Tassimalaja, and, leaving Garvet at two, they arrived there in time for dinner. So far as could be judged from a very brief stay during the dark hours and early morning, this seemed a pretty little country town, but the train left early and there was little time to look about. The first important stop was at Maos, where a change had to be made. Among the passengers was an Englishman whom X. had met some ten years before in New York. He was going the orthodox round to Ojoedja and Semarang. The two Englishmen, both experienced travellers, exchanged views as to their respective impressions of Java, and both agreed that, wherever they went, the courtesy and assistance received equalled if they did not exceed any they had met with in other portions of the globe they had trotted over. At Maos their ways separated, though fate brought them together again on board the steamer to Singapore.
Another companion of the journey was a versatile young Dutchman who spoke many languages and proved to be very good company. This gentleman apparently had no great admiration for his fellow-countrymen, as he saw them in Java. He abused with equal impartiality the food and the manner of life, and declared that the Dutch in Java were devoid both of digestion and energy. They were in fact half dead from bad food and too much sleep. This communicativecompanion also gave his views on the civil service, which had gradually grown from the stage, when anyone could be pitchforked into it, to its present condition, when both brains and interest are required to achieve the entry to its rank. Let a man once get in (the views are those of the communicative Dutchman), his fortune was made, if he only kept quiet and was satisfied to slip along in the common groove. He must implicitly follow prescribed rules and obey his immediate superior blindly, sinking all individual conscience and identity. Should he have views for his own self-advancement or to assist the people, should he economize Government money and reduce the number of road-coolies or police, who actually officiate in the household as cooks, gardeners, or grooms, should he try to set a good example and relinquish perquisites, "that man" exclaimed the speaker "is lost, and had better return to Holland forthwith." Such were the views of his travelling companion, but what opportunity he had had for forming them, and whether they were justified by actual facts, X. did not know, or greatly care, so long as he found his company amusing, which he did until their arrival at Tjilatjap. Here his opinion was somewhat modified, when his voluble companion, profiting by superior experience, annexed the only decent room in the hotel and exulted over the ruse which secured it for him.
When X. first announced in the train that hewas bound for Tjilatjap there was a chorus of exclamations, and his companions evidently thought him eccentric. Had he also explained his reason for going, there would have been little doubt on the subject. It was then he learnt that Tjilatjap had formerly been a garrison town, but it had been found necessary to abandon it on account of the high rate of mortality among the troops. It was not till after the change at Maos that the young Dutchman acknowledged that Tjilatjap was also his destination, being probably unwilling to appear eccentric in the eyes of his fellow-countrymen who remained in the Djoeja carriage.
Tjilatjap was reached at midday. The town had an imposing appearance, all the streets being planted with avenues of large trees. X. drove at once to the hotel, where he was given a room like a horse-box with the sun streaming into it. As mentioned above, he subsequently ascertained that his travelling companion had managed to secure the only decent room in the hotel, and X. did not feel any love for the stranger, who had taken what he felt to be an unfair advantage of his local innocence. He only wished he could hand him over to the tender mercies of the most muscular and irritable member of the civil service, after relating how he had libelled it. There was lunch lying ready spread on the table and its appearance was satisfactory. Next day he noticed that this meal was laid hot at 9.30 daily, and left cooling until far on in the afternoon. Being hungry, the distant view of the table lookedinviting, and X. prepared for a hearty meal. But his joyful expectation gave way to something like disgust on discovering, what a nearer approach revealed, that each article of food was firmly congealed in its own gravy. But no one else seemed to mind, and a party opposite—father, mother and daughter—ate of these provisions as though they were delicacies hot from the kitchen of the Savoy or Bignon's. Strolling out a little later to smoke a cigarette and try to persuade himself he had lunched, the visitor spied the proprietor of the hotel, his family and some favoured guests, enjoying cakes, and what appeared to be Madeira, and fruit in the verandah. As sleep in that sunbaked oven of a room was impossible, the traveller sent for a carriage and went for a drive. The appearance of all the houses that he passed gave the idea that every one inside them was asleep, but their stillness was counterbalanced by the busy crowds of natives going to and fro along those avenues of wonderful trees.
Later in the day X. sallied forth to call on the Assistant Resident. He had been informed at the hotel that this official was not visible between the hours of 11 a.m. and 7 p.m.—rather a long period of retirement.
As it was growing dark X. walked up to the house, a far superior residence to the one at Garvet. The lady of the house and her familywere starting for the evening drive, not daring to venture out before this late hour. The Assistant Resident, apparently a very young man, received his visitor with great cordiality and gave him all the information in his power, promising his assistance if he wished to go further up country. It should be stated that, arrived at Tjilatjap, Usoof's memory received a filip, and he recollected that the town of Jombong, not far off, had been the chief place near his "kampong." On hearing this, the Assistant Resident promised to send a letter to the Wodena or native magistrate of the village, who lived at Soempioet and could let him stay in his house. This exactly met the wishes of X., who had been only wanting an opportunity to see more of the native life in Java, away from the track of hotels and tame curio sellers, who differed but little in one town from another. While the traveller was paying this call, another visitor arrived. This was no less a personage than the President of the Landraad. After they had left, he hospitably invited the Englishman into the club, where they played billiards. The great man made himself most agreeable and was quite ready to impart to his companion all he might wish to hear about the duties of the local government officers. He learnt that the Assistant Resident exercised a very limited jurisdiction as magistrate, and all cases, excepting the most trivial, are brought before theLandraad. The post held by this cheery official was evidently most congenial, and he explained with much satisfaction how he had to be frequently travelling, and what a liberal allowance he could draw while doing so. It need be liberal, thought his hearer, to compensate for a course of feeding in Java hotels. But sympathy on this point was wasted, as the President of the Landraad alluded to the one, at which it appeared they were both staying, and spoke of it as comfortable. Billiards over, it was time to return to the hotel for dinner. This meal, probably more owing to the lamp-light than to any inherent superiority, seemed an improvement on the last one, had not the diners made it unnecessarily uncomfortable by treating it as though it were a hurried snack at the counter of a railway refreshment room. For instance, three or four times during the progress of the meal callers came to see the courteous President, who cheerfully left the table to interview them, returning with equanimity to the discussion of the chilled dishes at whatever stage of the feast he chanced on when he returned. The table was not cleared away after the sorry farce of dinner was over, and X. noticed, as late as ten and even half-past ten o'clock, late diners strolling in to feed on the ever less appetising remains. X. recalled the words of his companion in the train, and thought he at least had some justification for his remarks on the digestions, orthe want of them, of his fellow-countrymen in Java.
The chief thing for intending travellers in Java to recollect is the difficulty of obtaining money, since no one will look at a cheque, as people in that country do not use them. It is necessary, therefore, to take ready money and rely upon periodical remittances sent by registered letter from the bank. At Garvet X. had his first experience of pecuniary trouble through having placed confidence in his cheque book, backed by the special permit signed by the Governor General of the Netherlands India. He had invested in some Java ponies and thus outrun all calculations as to expenditure. The hotel people would not look at his cheque, though they certainly looked at the owner of it with the careful scrutiny born of suspicion. Very troubled, he had called at all the chief shops and places of business in the town asking assistance, and assuring merchants of hisbona fides, as they scanned his cheque and passed it from one to another as a curiosity such as none of them had ever seen before. At length good fortune appeared in the shape of a Mr. Schmidt. One of those who had endeavoured to grasp some meaning from the cheque, explained that he believed this kind of thing was seen in Europe, and they had better call Mr. Schmidt, who not only had been there within the last two years, butalso spoke a little English. X. eagerly seconded the suggestion, and Mr. Schmidt appeared. His verdict was anxiously awaited, but especially by the owner of the cheque, whose future movements must depend on the decision, and his relief was great when the good, the discerning, the up-to-date Mr. Schmidt pronounced in his favour. He declared that, certainly he had seen such cheques before, and generously offered to cash it himself. Thus the situation was saved, and the stranger was able to carry out his arrangements and pay his debts. Good Mr. Schmidt! that stranger remembers you with gratitude. Here, in Tjilatjap, X. was again threatened with penury, for, though he had telegraphed for money, the little registered packet had so far not appeared. Perhaps his bankers could not really credit that he had gone to a place with such a reputation as Tjilatjap. But it was because of this reputation that X. was unwilling to prolong his stay there beyond what was actually necessary, and, therefore, sending off the Malays with the luggage, remained behind, relying upon the arrival of the money by the morning post. He utilised the opportunity of this enforced stay to visit the hospital. The hospitals in the Native States of the Peninsula are perhaps the chief signs of the civilization, of which their Government may be proud, seeing that in them natives of all nationalities aresplendidly housed and have the best of medical attendance free. It was, therefore, interesting for the Englishman who hailed from that Peninsula to see how, in a large town like Tjilatjap in Java, these things were done.
He had the good fortune to be most courteously shown over the building by the doctor in charge. It was somewhat of a surprise to find that there were few patients in the hospital, notwithstanding the reputation of the place for fever, and to learn that the average number of sick amongst the natives was not noticeably in excess of other towns.
The whole building was a picture of neatness and cleanliness. The walls were made of bertam (a kind of plaited reed) so as to be easily destroyed and replaced in case of infection. The floors were of cement and raised off the ground. This hospital has only been started two years, and, at the present time, possesses fifty beds. The bathing places in particular merited attention, the floors being tiled, while large tanks of brick and cement contained the water supply—baths are provided for feeble patients. The most elaborate building was the dead-house, where all the latest improvements were to be seen. There was, and is, a European ward where patients can be treated for three guilders a day. Another building, standing a little apart, was for Europeans of a better class who could afford to paysix guilders a-day, "but," the doctor added, "they never come." The hospital is free for all natives, and, contrary to what is frequently the case elsewhere, the authorities seem to experience no difficulty in inducing them to go there. The doctor has one assistant to help him in managing the hospital. He spoke very highly of the native dressers, and said that they frequently turn out well. To X., accustomed to see similar hospitals crowded with Chinese, it was curious only to find one in the whole hospital, and he was the cook.
After his visit to the hospital the traveller went to the post office to ask if his registered letter had come, and was considerably depressed to find that, though the post had arrived, there was no letter by it for him. There was nothing to be done but to accept the information and return to the hotel and think it out. He was alone—servants and luggage had gone, and some ten guilders of money only remained. Where could he find a local Schmidt. The landlord suggested that perhaps the people at the Factory might change his cheque. X. was not certain, but believed the Factory to be the name for the offices of the chief trading firm in Java. Acting on this advice, he took a carriage and drove there. The haughty young gentleman who presided behind the counter received him suspiciously, and at once disdainfully and veryfirmly refused to have anything to do with the cheque, which he turned over and over in his fingers as though it might bite him, and then returned to its owner.