SUMATRA.
On the third day from Macassar we arrived safely at Surabaya, and thence
proceeded westward to Samarang, and, on the first of February, 1866,
I was again in Batavia, having been absent in the eastern part of the
archipelago eight months. Through the courtesy of Messrs. Dümmler & Co.,
of that city, who obligingly offered to receive and store my collections
and forward them to America, I was left entirely free to commence a new
journey.
The generous offer of the governor-general to give me an order for
post-horses free over all parts of Java was duly considered; but as many
naturalists and travellers have described it already, I determined to
proceed to Sumatra, and, if possible, travel in the interior of that
unexplored island, and, accordingly, on the 12th of February, I took
passage for Padang on the Menado, the same steamer in which I had already
travelled so many hundred miles.
[Illustration: ISLAND of SUMATRA
_To Illustrate Professor Bickmore’s Travels._
Edwᵈ Weller]
From Batavia we soon steamed away to the Strait of Sunda, and once more
it was my privilege to behold the lofty peaks in the southern end of
Sumatra. From that point as far north as Cape Indrapura the coast is
generally bordered with a narrow band of low land, from which rises a
high and almost continuous chain of mountains extending parallel with the
southwest, or, as the Dutch always call it, the “west” coast, all the way
north to Achin.
The next morning, after passing the lofty peak of Indrapura, found us
steaming in under the hills and high mountains that stand by the sea at
Padang and rise tier above tier until they reach the crest of the Barizan
chain, producing one of the grandest effects to be enjoyed on the shores
of any island in the whole archipelago. Padang, unfortunately, has no
harbor, and the place where ships are obliged to anchor is an open,
exposed roadstead. There is a sheltered harbor farther to the south,
but it would cost a large sum to build a good road from Padang to it by
cutting down the hills and bridging the ravines. The distance from the
anchorage to the city is some three miles, and all the products exported
must be taken out to the ships on barges.
The city of Padang is situated on a small plain, whence its name;
_padang_ in Malay, meaning an open field or plain. Its population numbers
about twelve thousand, and is composed of emigrants from Nias, Java, some
Chinese and Arabs, and their mestizo descendants, besides the natives
and Dutch. The streets are well shaded and neat. Near the centre of the
city is a large, beautiful lawn, on one side of which is the residence
of the governor. On the opposite side is the Club-House, a large and
well-proportioned building. On the south side is a small stream where the
natives haul up their boats, and here the barges take in their cargoes.
This part of the city is chiefly filled with the store-houses and offices
of the merchants. In front of the governor’s residence is a large common.
Two of its sides are occupied by private residences and the church, the
roof of which has fallen in, and indeed the whole structure is in a most
dilapidated condition compared to the rich Club-House on the other side
of the green. Having landed and taken up my quarters at a hotel, I called
on Governor Van den Bosche, who received me politely, and said that the
inspector of posts, Mr. Theben Terville, whose duty it is not only to
care for transporting the mails, but also to supervise and lay out the
post-roads, had just arrived from Java, and must make an overland journey
to Siboga, in order to examine a route that had been proposed for a
post-road to that place.
He had promised the inspector, who was an old gentleman, the use of his
“American,” a light four-wheeled carriage made in Boston. There was room
for two in it, and he would propose to the inspector to take me with him,
and further provide me with letters to the chief officials along the
way; but as it would be two or three days before Mr. Terville, who was
then in the interior, would be ready to start, he proposed that I should
leave the hotel and make my home with him as long as I might remain in
Padang. “Besides,” he added, “I have eight good carriage-horses in the
stable, and I have so much writing to do that they are spoiling for want
of exercise; now, if you will come, you can ride whenever you please.”
So again I found myself in the full tide of fortune. It is scarcely
necessary to add that I did not fail to avail myself of such a generous
offer. In the evenings, when it became cool, the governor was accustomed
to ride through the city, and occasionally out a short distance into the
country. Our roads were usually shaded with tall trees, frequently with
palms, and to fly along beneath them in a nice carriage, drawn by a span
of fleet ponies, was a royal pleasure, and one never to be forgotten.
One pleasant day we drove out a few miles to a large garden where the
governor formerly resided. The palace had been taken down, but a fine
garden and a richly-furnished bathing-house yet remain. The road out from
Padang to this place led through a series of low rice-lands, and just
then the young blades were six or eight inches high, and waved charmingly
in the morning breeze. The road, for a long distance, was perfectly
straight and bordered by large shade-trees. It was one of the finest
avenues I ever saw. Here I was reminded of the region from which I had
so lately come, the Spice Islands, by a small clove-tree, well filled
with fruit. Much attention was formerly given here to the culture of the
clove, but for some years raising coffee has proved the most profitable
mode of employing native labor. There were also some fine animals in
various parts of the garden, among which was a pair of the spotted deer,
_Axis maculata_. Thus several days glided by, and the time for me to go
up into the interior and meet the inspector came almost before I was
aware of it.
_February 21st, 1866._—At 8 A. M. we started from Padang for Fort de
Kock, sixty miles from this city. A heavy shower during the night has
purified the air, and we have a clear, cool, and in its fullest sense a
lovely morning. This “American” is generally drawn by two horses, but
the governor has had thills put on so that one may be used, for he says,
between Fort de Kock, where the present post-road ends, and Siboga, a
distance of about one hundred and ninety miles, by the crooked route that
we must travel, that we shall find it difficult to get one horse for a
part of the way. Behind the carriage a small seat is fastened where my
footman sits or stands. His duty is to help change the horses at the
various stations, which are about five miles apart. When the horses are
harnessed his next duty is to get them started, which is by far the most
difficult, for most of those we have used to-day have been trained for
the saddle, and we have not dared to put on any breeching for fear of
losing our fender, these brutes are so ready to use their heels, though
fortunately we have not needed any hold-back but once or twice, and then,
by having the footman act as hold-back himself with a long line, I have
urged on the horse, and in every case we have come down to the bottom
of the hill safely. With only a weak coolie tugging behind, of course I
have not been able to make these wild horses resist the temptation to go
down the hill at a trot, and, after running and holding back until he
was out of breath, the coolie has always let go, generally when I was
half-way down; nothing of course then remained to be done but to keep the
horse galloping so fast that the carriage cannot run on to him, and by
the time we have come to the bottom of the hill we have been moving at
a break-neck rate, which has been the more solicitous for me, as I had
never been on the road, and did not know what unexpected rocks or holes
there would be found round the next sharp turn.
From Padang the road led to the northwest, over the low lands between
the sea and the foot of the Barizan, or coast chain of mountains. In
this low region we have crossed two large streams, which come down from
these elevations on the right, and are now quite swollen from the recent
rains. A long and large rattan is stretched across from one bank to the
other, and a path made to slip over it is fastened to one end of a rude
raft. This rattan prevents us from being swept down the boiling stream,
while the natives push over the raft with long poles. I began to realize
what an advantage it was to ride in the carriage of the _Tuan Biza_, or
“Great Man,” as the Malays all call the governor. As soon as those on
the opposite side of the stream saw the carriage they recognized it, and
at once came over by holding on to the rattan with one hand and swimming
with the other. In their struggles to hasten and kindly assist, several
times the heads of a number of them were beneath the water when they
came to the middle of the stream, where the current was strongest and
the rattan very slack; but there was very little danger of their being
drowned, for they are as amphibious as alligators. I had not been riding
long over these low lands before I experienced a new and unexpected
pleasure in beholding by the roadside numbers of beautiful tree-ferns,
which, unlike their humbler representatives in our temperate regions,
grow up into trees fifteen to eighteen feet high. They are interesting,
not only on account of their graceful forms and limited distribution, but
because they are the living representatives of a large family of trees
that flourished during the coal period.
[Illustration: APPROACH TO THE “CLEFT,” NEAR PADANG.]
As we proceeded, our road approached the base of the Barizan chain until
we were quite near them, and then curved again around some spur that
projected toward the sea-shore. Late in the afternoon we came to the
opening of a broad, triangular valley, and beheld on our right, and near
the head of the valley, the towering peak of Singalang, whose summit is
nine thousand eight hundred and eighty feet above the sea. Large numbers
of natives were seen here travelling in company, returning homeward from
the market at Kayu Tanam, the next village. Their holiday dress here as
elsewhere is a bright red. Beyond Kayu Tanam the road ran along the side
of a deep ravine, having in fact been cut in the soft rock, a narrow wall
of it being left on the outer side to prevent carriages from sliding off
into the deep chasm. Suddenly, as we whirled round the sharp corners
while dashing through this place, we came into a deep cañon extending to
the right and left, called by the Dutch the Kloof, or “Cleft,” a very
proper name, for it is a great cleft in the Barizan chain. Up this cleft
has been built a road by which all the rich products of the _Padangsche
Bovenlanden_, or “Padang plateau,” are brought down to the coast.
Opposite to us was a torrent pouring over the perpendicular side of the
cleft, which I judge to be about seventy-five feet in height. Where it
curved over the side of the precipice it was confined, but, as soon as
it began to fall, it spread out and came down, not in one continuous,
unvarying sheet of water, but in a series of wavelets, until the whole
resembled a huge comet trying, as it were, to escape from earth up to its
proper place in the pure sky above it. On either side of this pulsating
fall is a sheet of green vegetation, which has gained a foothold in
every crevice and on every projecting ledge in the precipice. Behind the
falling water there is a wall of black, volcanic rock, and at its foot is
a mass of angular _débris_ which has broken off from the cliff above. Now
we turned sharply round to the north, and began ascending to the plateau.
The cleft has not been formed in a straight but in a zigzag line, so
that, in looking up or down, its sides seem to meet a short distance
before you and prevent any farther advance in either direction; but, as
you proceed, the road suddenly opens to the right or left, and thus the
effect is never wearying. It resembles some of the dark cañons in our
own country between the Rocky Mountains and Sierra Nevada, except that
while their dark sides are of naked rock, the sides of this ravine are
covered with a dense growth of vines, shrubs, and large trees, according
to the steepness of the acclivities. Here were many trees and shrubs with
very brilliantly-colored leaves. The whole scenery is so grand that no
description, or even photograph, could convey an accurate idea of its
magnificence. For four miles we rode up and up this chasm, and at last
came on to the edge of the plateau at the village of Padang Panjang.
We were then more than two thousand four hundred feet above the plain,
having ascended about two thousand feet in four miles. Here the inspector
left word for me to wait a couple of days for him, as he was still away
to the south. Heavy showers continued the next day, so that I had little
opportunity of travelling far; besides, it was very cool after coming up
from the low, hot land by the shore. There is almost always a current of
air either up or down this cleft, and the warm air of the coast region is
brought into contact with the cool air of the plateau, and condensation
and precipitation seems to occur here more abundantly than at any other
place in the vicinity, the number of rainy days numbering two hundred
and five. This is no doubt due to the local causes already explained.
The average temperature here is 49.28° Fahrenheit. In the cleft, at one
or two places, are a few houses made by the people who have moved down
from the plateau. They are placed on posts two or three feet above the
ground. Their walls are low, only three or four feet high, and made of a
rude kind of panel-work, and painted red. Large open places are left for
windows, which allow any one passing to look in. There are no partitions
and no chairs nor benches, and the natives squat down on the rough floor.
It requires no careful scrutiny of these hovels to see that they are
vastly more filthy than the bamboo huts of the Malays who live on the low
land.
In all the villages I have passed to-day, both on the low land and here
on the plateau, there is a _pasar_, or market, and, where they have been
erected by the natives, they are the most remarkable buildings I have
seen in the archipelago. They are perched upon posts like the houses.
The ridge-pole, instead of being horizontal, curves up so high at each
end, that the roof comes to have the form of a crescent with the horns
pointing upward. Sometimes a shorter roof is placed in the middle of the
longer, and then the two look like a small crescent within a large one.
Long before Europeans came to this land these people were accustomed to
meet to barter their products, and this was their only kind of internal
commerce. The next morning I rode part way down the cleft to near the
place where the post-horses are changed, and found a marble that was
soft, but so crystalline as to contain no fossils. I understand, however,
that Mr. Van Dijk, one of the government mining engineers, discovered
some pieces of this limestone which had not been crystallized, and that
he considered the species of corals seen in them to be entirely of the
recent period. Limestone again appears in the cleft of Paningahan, a
short distance to the south. The rocks with which it is interstratified
are chloritic schists, that is, layers of clay changed into hard schists
by the action of heat and pressure.
_February 23d._—The inspector arrived this morning, and we set out
together for Fort de Kock, about twelve miles distant. From Padang
Panjang the road continues to rise to the crest of a ridge or _col_,
which crossed our road in an easterly and westerly direction, and
connects Mount Singalang with Mount Mérapi. This acclivity is very nicely
terraced, and the water is retained in the little plats by dikes. When
any excess is poured into the uppermost in the series, it runs over into
those beneath it, and thus a constant supply of water is kept over all.
On looking upward we saw only the vertical sides of the little terraces
covered with turf, and, in looking down, only the rice-fields. Near the
crest of the col we could look down the flanks of the Mérapi to Lake
Sinkara away to the south. The earth here is a tenacious red clay formed
by the decomposition of the underlying volcanic rocks and volcanic ashes
and sand. These are arranged in layers which have an inclination nearly
parallel to the surface. The layers of ashes and sand may have been
partly formed in their present position by successive eruptions in the
summits of the neighboring peaks, but those of clay show that the col has
been elevated somewhat since they were formed. The height of this col is
three thousand seven hundred feet, and this is the highest place crossed
by the road from Padang to Siboga. We now began slowly to descend,
passing wide, beautifully-cultivated sawas on either hand to Fort de
Kock. Here on a pretty terrace is located the house of the Resident, who
has command of the adjoining elevated lands, so famous in the history of
this island as the kingdom of Menangkabau, whence the Malays originally
migrated, whom we have found on the shores of all the islands we have
visited, and who are very distinct from the aborigines of these islands,
as we have particularly noticed at Buru.
[Illustration: WOMAN OF THE PADANG PLATEAU.]
The dress of the men here is not very different from that of the Malays
of Java, but the costume of the women is remarkable. On the head is
worn a long scarf, wound round like a turban, one end being allowed to
hang down, sometimes over the forehead, and sometimes on one side, or on
the back of the head. The upper part of the body is clothed in a baju of
the common pattern, and passing over one shoulder, across the breast,
and under the opposite arm is a long, bright-colored scarf. The ends of
this, as well as that worn on the head, are ornamented with imitations
of leaves and fruit, very tastefully wrought with gold thread. At the
waist is fastened the sarong, which is not sewn up at the ends as in
other parts of the archipelago. It is therefore nothing but a piece
of calico, about a yard long, wound round the body, and the two ends
gathered on the right hip, where they are twisted together, and tucked
under, so as to form a rude knot. As the sarong is thus open on the right
side, it is thrown apart higher than the knee at every step, like the
statues representing the goddess Diana in hunting-costume. Their most
remarkable custom, however, is distending the lobe of the ear, as seen in
the accompanying cut from a photograph of one of the women at the kampong
here at Fort de Kock. When young, an incision is made in the lobe, and
a stiff leaf is rolled up, and thrust into it, in such a way that the
tendency of the leaf to unroll will stretch the incision. When one leaf
has lost its elasticity it is exchanged for another, and, in this way,
the opening increases until it is an inch in diameter. This must be a
very painful process, judging from the degree to which the ears of the
young girls are inflamed and swollen. A saucer-shaped ornament, with a
groove in its rim, is then put into the ear, exactly as a stud is put
into a gentleman’s shirt-bosom. It is generally made of gold, and the
central part consists of a very fine open work, so that it is very light,
yet the opening in the ear continues to increase until it is frequently
an inch and a half in diameter, and almost large enough for the wearer
to pass one of her hands through. The front part of the loop is then
only attached to the head by a round bundle of muscles, smaller than a
pipe-stem, and the individual is obliged to lay aside her ornaments or
have the lower part of her ears changed into long, dangling strings.
While these ornaments (for it is not proper to call such a saucer-shaped
article a ring) can be worn in the ear, the appearance of the native
women, as seen in the cut, is like that of the other Malay women; but
as soon as these ornaments are taken out, and the lobes of their ears
are seen to be nothing but long loops, their appearance then becomes
very repulsive. The men are never guilty of this loathsome practice.
A similar habit of distending the lobe of the ear prevails in Borneo,
among the Dyak women. It is also seen in all the Chinese and Japanese
images of Buddha, The native women of India are accustomed to wear
several small rings, not only all round in the edge of the ear, but in
the nostrils. A large number of rings are shown in the ear of the cut of
a Dyak or head-hunter of Borneo. Even in the most civilized lands this
same barbaric idea—that a lady is made more prepossessing by having
some foreign substance thrust through, and dangling from, each ear—still
prevails.
After we had rested from our ride, the Resident took us through the
adjoining kampong. The houses were like those already described in the
Cleft. Our attention was particularly drawn to the magnificent bamboos by
the roadside, many of which attain a height of forty or fifty feet.
_February 24th._—The inspector, having travelled for some time, prefers
to rest to-day, and as I am anxious to see the lake of Manindyu, which
is some distance off our route, I avail myself of the opportunity.
The Resident kindly gave me a very fine saddle-horse, and early this
morning we started in a northwesterly direction for Matua. Our path at
once led down from the high plateau into a series of deep valleys with
perpendicular sides, composed of stratified sand and clay, formed by the
disintegration and decomposition of pumice-stone. These deep valleys
have been wholly formed by the action of the rapid streams which flow
in their bottoms, and which, by changing their courses from one side of
the valley to the other, have carried away the talus that has formed at
the bases of the cliffs. These cliffs, therefore, are perpendicular,
whether the valleys be wide or narrow. The strata of the sand and clay
are so horizontal that we are warranted in considering them deposited in
a lake of fresh or salt water. No fossils of any kind, so far as I can
learn, have ever been seen in these late deposits, to determine whether
they are of lacustrine or marine origin. The upper edges of the sides of
these deep valleys are so sharply defined that the buffaloes, feeding
on the grass-lands above, unconsciously venture too far, and of course
are instantly killed by such a high fall, and, for this reason, the Dutch
call them “buffalo holes.”
At several places small tributaries come in as branches to the main
stream, which here flows to the northwest, and the tongue of land in the
acute angle of such branches rises up like a perpendicular wall with
a sharp edge. These deep valleys resemble the cañons of the Colorado,
which were also formed by the erosive action of running water; but here
the scenery is on a small scale compared to those deep, dark, gloomy
chasms. Two or three times we climbed the zigzag path that led up the
sides of one valley, and then went down again into the next valley. The
bottoms of these cañons, being well watered, are admirably suited for
the cultivation of rice, and here were some plats still overflowed where
the rice was only a few inches high, and not far from them others, where
the natives were collecting the ripe, golden blades. Such a mingling of
planting the seed, and gathering in the ripe grain, appeared the more
strange when I thought of our temperate climate, where we are obliged to
sow at a certain time in the year or reap no harvest. The higher lands
between these valleys form a plateau, which, from Fort de Kock to Matua,
is very sterile when compared to the high land farther south.
From Matua our course changed to the west and lay through broad sawas
filled with half-grown rice. It slowly ascended, until we found ourselves
on the edge of a crater of most enormous dimensions. Thick rain-clouds
gathered and began pouring down heavy showers, which obscured every
thing about us, and I could only see that we stood on the edge of a vast
yawning gulf. Our way now rapidly descended first to the right and then
to the left, and, as I looked down into the deep abyss which we were
descending, such thick vapors enveloped us that every thing was hidden
from our view at the distance of a hundred yards, and it seemed as if
we must be going down into the Bottomless Pit. Down and down we went,
until at last I became quite discouraged, and seriously began to think
of explaining to my native guide that the wisest heads which lived in my
land believe that the centre of the earth is nothing but a mass of molten
rock, and to inquire of him whether he was sure we should stop short of
such an uncomfortable place, when the thick mist which enshrouded us
cleared away, and I beheld far, far beneath me a large lake, and above me
the steep, overhanging crater-wall which I had descended; but I was only
half-way down, yet I had the satisfaction of knowing there was an end to
the way, and, besides, the road was not so steep, and consequently not so
slippery as the half we had already come. So we slipped and plodded on,
and early in the afternoon I came to the residence of the _controleur_ of
that region, at the village of Manindyu, on the east side of the lake.
The height of the edge of the crater where we began to descend is
thirty-six hundred feet, and that of the lake fifteen hundred and
forty above the sea. The perpendicular distance that we had come down,
therefore, was over two thousand feet; but to come that distance,
our road had zigzagged so continually to the right and left, that we
had travelled five miles. Toward evening the rain ceased, and the
_controleur_ conducted me a short distance north of the kampong to a hot
spring, where the natives have a square pool for bathing, and covered it
with a small house, for they ascribe all sorts of healing virtues to this
warm water. I found the water to be perfectly pure to the eye, and free
from any sensible escape of gas. Its temperature was 102½° Fahrenheit,
and an abundance of algæ was seen on the rocks beneath its surface.
At sunset, the heavy clouds that had filled the crater during the day
slowly rose upward, but not so high at first as to allow us to see the
tops of the peaks in the serrated crest of the crater-wall opposite. The
bright sunlight, therefore, shone in through the triangular openings
between the lower surface of the level clouds, and the bottoms of the
sharp valleys, and these oblique bands of golden light fell on the water
at some distance from the opposite shore, and then came over the lake and
illuminated the place where we sat watching this unique and magnificent
view.
After the sunlight had faded, the clouds rose higher, and I could look
round and behold all sides of the largest crater it has been my privilege
to see, and indeed one of the largest in the world. The general height
of the wall does not vary much from that point where I crossed it coming
down, and is very steep, except at that place, and in many parts nearly
perpendicular. It is not circular, but composed of two circles of unequal
diameter, which unite on one side, and leave a tongue of land projecting
from the east and west sides. Each of these circles is a crater, and
the tongues of land that project from either side of the lake mark the
boundaries between them. The width of the larger crater at the level
of the lake, as given on the best maps I have been able to consult,
is three geographical miles; that of the smaller crater, at the same
level, two and a quarter miles; and the length of the lake, which lies
in a northerly and southerly direction, and is approximately parallel
to the great Barizan chain in which it is found, is no less than six
geographical miles. These two craters, I believe, were not formed at the
same time. The larger crater, which is on the north, is older, and the
smaller one to the south is the later, the eruptive force which formed
the larger having lost some of its power, as well as having slightly
changed its position when it formed the smaller. This gigantic crater is
the more interesting to us, because it is as large as the one we supposed
formerly existed in the Banda Islands, when we regarded Great Banda, Pulo
Pisang, and Pulo Kapal, as parts of the walls of that crater, if, as was
then suggested, that crater was not circular, but nearly elliptical,
like this great one of Manindyu. Even the famous crater of the Tenger
Mountains becomes of moderate dimensions, when compared to this.
In the western side of the larger crater is a cleft or deep ravine
that conducts the superfluous waters to the sea. This split, it may be
noticed, has occurred on the side toward the sea, where, of course, the
wall of the crater was thinnest and weakest. This region is considered
quite valuable, because coffee-trees flourish here remarkably well. The
coffee obtained is brought over the lake in boats to the mouth of the
outlet, and thence transported to the village of Tiku, on the coast.
The _controleur_ also showed me a quantity of the edible birds’-nests
obtained in the neighboring cliffs, that were considered of a superior
quality, that is, by Chinese palates, for, if the Celestials had not
taken a fancy that these should be regarded as dainties, I do not believe
that Europeans would have ever thought of tasting them.
_February 25th._—At eight o’clock rode back with the _controleur_ up
the crater wall, by the way I came down yesterday. The road is built on
the spur or projecting ridge that forms the boundary between the two
craters on the east side, and zigzags to the right and left in such
a manner that, when viewed from beneath, it reminds one of the way,
usually pictured, that the people of Babel climbed their lofty tower.
To shorten the distance, we went over a number of steep places, instead
of going round by the road. The clay and wet grass, however, were so
slippery that such climbing was exceedingly dangerous; but the rider
had the satisfaction of knowing that, if his horse did lose his footing
altogether, they would both go down so many hundred feet that neither
would suffer pain for many moments after their descent was ended.
The heavy rain of yesterday had wholly cleared away, and when we reached
the crater rim we enjoyed a perfect view of this enormous gulf, six
miles long and four miles broad, and more than two thousand feet deep.
Apparently the crater had ceased its action a long time ago, and now the
hot springs on the borders of the lake are the only reminders of the
causes that formed it ages and ages ago. As we looked down from our high
point, clouds were seen floating beneath us, and on the opposite wall of
the crater long, narrow, vertical strips of naked earth marked the places
where land-slides had come down its precipitous declivities.
Soon after we reached Matua, the inspector arrived from Fort de Kock, and
we went on together toward the northwest. The road was exceedingly rough,
and, after riding five miles, our little pony became so worn out that I
got out and walked to Palimbayang, the next station, a distance of nine
miles, in the scorching, tropical sun. The road from Matua is built on
the side of the Barizan chain, and we had on our right a deep valley, in
the bottom of which coursed the stream that we had previously crossed in
the deep cañons near Fort de Kock. Several small streams came down from
the mountains on our left, and in the side valleys, where those streams
entered the main one, the natives had formed many terraces.
A number of these smaller valleys had the form of an ellipse, cut
in two at its minor axis. In the distance they looked like immense
amphitheatres, the horizontal terraces forming the seats for the
imaginary spectators—amphitheatres of such ample dimensions that, in
comparison with them, even the great Coliseum at Rome dwindles into
insignificance.
The height of this point is a little less than that at Matua, and all the
way from Fort de Kock to this place I have been able to keep in sight the
remains of the plateau which begins on the south with the _col_ between
the Singalang and Mérapi. The horizontal layers, that once filled the
whole valley west of us, have been carried away by the streams until
only a narrow margin is left on the Barizan, and its parallel chain; it
forcibly reminds me of the terraces seen along the upper part of some of
our own New-England rivers—for instance, those in the upper part of the
Connecticut Valley.
Here, at Palimbayang, I have had the first opportunity of enjoying a view
of that magnificent mountain, Ophir, nine thousand seven hundred and
seventy feet in height. Its truncated summit indicates that its highest
parts are the ruins of an old crater, and this thought reminds us of the
volcanic action to which the mountain owes its birth. The name of this
mountain is not of native origin, but was given it by the Portuguese,
because they fancied that at last they had found the place where the
ships of Solomon obtained the enormous quantities of gold that he used
in adorning the magnificent temple of Jerusalem. The same name they also
gave to another, but a much smaller mountain, on the Malay Peninsula,
forty miles north of the city of Malacca.
[Illustration: A SCENE IN THE INTERIOR OF SUMATRA.]
In the vicinity of both of these mountains much gold had been obtained
for centuries before Europeans ever came to this region. The idea
entertained by the Portuguese, that a part of the gold which reached
Jerusalem came from this island and the peninsula, has been the subject
of much ridicule, but, nevertheless, there may be considerable evidence
in favor of such an hypothesis.
No one region is known in that part of the east that could have furnished
all the different articles brought by Solomon’s fleet; and Ophir has
therefore been considered the name of an emporium, situated near the
entrance of the Red Sea, or, more probably, near the head of the
Arabian Sea, at the mouth of the Indus. The names in the Hebrew of the
articles thus brought, show that they are all of foreign origin, having
been evidently adopted from some other language, and probably from the
Sanscrit.[52] The name for peacock appears to have been derived from the
word in Tamil, a language spoken on the Malabar coast by the Telingas,
or “Klings,” who visited this island and the Malay Peninsula long before
the time of Solomon, 1015 to 975 B. C., for the tin used by the Egyptians
in making their implements of bronze, as early as 2000 B. C., doubtless
came from the Malacca, and the Klings were the people who took it as
far toward Egypt as the eastern shore of India. Tin and gold are both
obtained in the same manner, namely, by washing alluvial deposits.
Gold is found in small quantities over a very considerable part of the
Malay Peninsula. It has always been more highly valued than tin, and it
is, therefore, by all means probable that it was an article of commerce,
and was exported to India as early as tin, or at least five hundred
years before Solomon commenced building his splendid temple.
Gold is also found in the western and southern parts of Borneo, and in
some places on Luzon and Magindanao, in the Philippine Archipelago. As
we have already noticed, it is found on Bachian, and, in the northern
and southern peninsulas of Celebes. It is indeed one of the most
widely-distributed metals obtained in the archipelago. It is not only
found on many of the islands that are not wholly of volcanic origin,
between Asia and Australia, but also from place to place over both of
those continents. The quantity obtained here, on Sumatra, is wholly
unknown, but, judging from what is used in ornaments, it must be very
considerable. It is always bought and sold in the form of “dust,” and has
never been coined for money in any part of the archipelago, except at
Achin.