RETURN TO PADANG.
Back of Siboga rises a high peak, and from its summit I was confident
that I could enjoy a magnificent view over the whole bay. A native
engaged to show me the way to its top, but after we had travelled a
long distance I found he had even less idea of how we were to reach the
desired spot than I had myself. Other natives gave me directions, but
that day was too far spent for such a journey, and I therefore made my
pretended guide travel with me the next day for nothing, as a punishment
for his lying. Following up a stream back of the settlement, we took a
minor valley to the south, and discovered a narrow path by which the
Battas sometimes come down from the interior. This led up through a
thick forest to a large place where that people had partially cleared
the land by burning down the trees. In the irregular spaces between the
stumps they had planted pine-apples and yams, which were both thriving
remarkably well. When we had gained that place I found the desired peak
still above us. My attendant now begged me not to attempt to reach it,
less, as I afterward learned, from his fear of the Battas than from his
fear of the evil spirit who is said to inhabit that high point, and
whom he believed we should certainly meet. But we gained the summit
without meeting any unearthly intruders. There I found the whole bay
and its shores spread out before me like a map. The broad coral banks
bordering several of the points and islands were of a light-clay color
in the dark-blue water, which was only here and there ruffled by the
light morning breezes then moving over its limpid surface. This bay is
said to closely resemble the bay of Rio Janeiro by those who have seen
both. To the north it has a long arm, but on the south its boundary is
sharply defined when viewed from the lofty point where I stood, while off
the mouth of the bay was the high island of Mensalla, its hills making a
sharply-serrated line against the sky.
On another occasion I made an excursion in a boat some six miles toward
the northern end of the bay to look at some layers of coal. Leaving the
boat we went a short distance up the side of a range of hills on the
northwest side of the bay, and, crossing two small ridges that ran down
to the shore, found the bed of a brook, which at that season was dry. In
one of its sides were seen the layers of coal, approximately parallel
to the surface of the hills, and resting on clay schists, to which they
appeared perfectly conformable. Crossing another low ridge, we came down
into the bed of another brook, where the same strata were again seen.
The coal here is very impure, except near the middle layers, and appears
to be of little commercial value; neither is the prospect flattering
for finding other strata of a better quality beneath those seen at the
surface. Although I looked carefully, I could detect no leaves or stems
of plants, or any organic remains, by which the geological age of this
coal could be determined; but the position of the layers parallel to
the surface, or last folding the strata have undergone, agrees with its
mineral characters in placing it, like the other coals of Sumatra, in the
tertiary period.
As I came to Siboga from the south, over the low land around the bay, I
noticed on my right a high, perpendicular cliff composed of recent strata
that were horizontal, and which must have been deposited beneath the
ocean, because the opposite side of the valley is open to the sea, with
only hills at intervals along its shore, and even their forms indicate
that they are of the same sedimentary origin. This cliff the natives
call in Malay the _Ruma Satan_, or “the Devil’s Dwelling.” It was on
the western declivity of the mountains which sweep round parallel to
the shore. The Resident gave orders to the rajah of Sibuluan, a native
village about four miles south of Siboga, to go with me and show me the
way. When I came to that village I found the rajah was a young man, and
evidently afraid of such an undertaking. In the first place, we must
be exposed to the _cannibal_ Battas, and even travel among them; but
I assured him that that, so far from making me desire to turn back,
only made me the more anxious to go on, for I liked to see all kinds of
people, and I had no fear that the Battas would eat me. Finding he could
not induce me to give up what he evidently considered a most venturesome
journey, he summoned the largest man in his _kampong_ and armed him
with a long, rusty sword. Several others were also ordered to accompany
us, though the rajah seemed to rely chiefly on the brave who carried
his arms. As for me, the only weapon with which I was provided was a
pocket-knife, but I think now that I underrated the danger then, and that
if I were going on the same excursion again I should take a revolver at
least. From Sibuluan our course was along a large stream. Soon we came
to a Batta village, where a capala and two men joined us, to act as our
guides and also to increase my body-guard, which, even then, would have
been far from formidable if any real danger had presented itself, and
they had had a good opportunity to run away. The rough path that we were
following came to a stream which I was compelled to wade, and found so
deep that it rose to my arms. Besides, the current was so strong that I
was glad to have the assistance of a native on either side. The sand and
sharp gravel were thus washed into my shoes; and as I learned we should
have to cross that stream some ten times, for such a road do these wild
cannibals use, I quickly prepared myself to go barefoot.
We had now come into a deep gorge; the sun poured down his most scorching
rays; the rocks and sand were so hot that it seemed they would blister
my feet, and even the Malays complained. The next ford was just above a
series of rapids. I was clad in a suit of blue flannel, which absorbed
so much water that I found I was in great danger of being swept away by
the torrent. I concluded that I had better adopt the costumes of the
Malays. The rajah wore a new pair of _chilanas_, of the prevailing
pattern, made in Achin. They are short-legged trousers, fastened at the
waist and reaching nearly to the knee. I proposed that we exchange, but
he declined to do that, and insisted on my keeping possession of my own
habit, and using the article I desired, and in that costume I travelled
till I came back to his village. In one place the torrent rolled up
against a high precipice, but there chanced to be a horizontal crevice
some distance above the water, and there, where scarcely a monkey would
think of venturing, we were obliged to crawl along as best we could. This
danger passed, we had to cross back and forth over rapids by leaping from
rock to rock, some of which were above and some just beneath the surface
of the boiling torrent. Then we came to an area of high grass. The tall
native, in accordance with the rajah’s orders, marching ahead with the
sword grasped in his right hand, and its naked, rusty blade resting on
his bare arm, was, indeed, the personification of bravery; but, as I
had little faith in the necessity of such a doughty warrior, I began to
ridicule his appearance to the rajah, when suddenly our brave gave an
ugly nasal grunt, and, brandishing his sword high over his head, brought
it down with a heavy cutting stroke on some object in front of him. “What
is the matter?” every one asked. “A great snake was crossing the road!”
an agreeable thing to hear, considering that I had no clothing on below
the knee; but, while he was flourishing his weapon and getting ready to
strike, the reptile had glided away in the tall grass.
The rajah now showed me a spot by the wayside where a Batta, who had
been guilty of adultery, had been killed and eaten by his fellows not
long before. All the others in the party confirmed the story in every
particular. A little farther on was a Batta village consisting of four
houses on high posts. One was small and stood apart from the others,
and in that they stored their rice. To prevent the mice from reaching
it, large projecting pieces of planks were placed on the tops of the
posts. The walls, floor, and gable-ends of the dwelling-houses were made
of plank, and the roof was a thatching of grass or straw. Having some
curiosity to see the internal arrangements of a Batta house, I climbed
up a ladder of five or six rounds at one end of the building, and took
a place assigned me on the floor. There was no bench nor stool, nor
any thing of the kind, so, according to Batta etiquette, I rested my
back against the side of the house. The whole building was in one room,
without a shadow of any partition. From the number of the inmates, I saw
that probably four families dwelt in this single apartment, and this
suspicion was strengthened when I noticed a rude fire-place, without any
chimney, in each corner. On inquiry, I was informed that my conjectures
were true. “But how do you know,” I asked, “what part belongs to one
family and what to another? Where is your partition?” One of them, who
could understand a little Malay, gravely rose, and, coming to my side in
answer to my query, pointed to a _crack_ in the floor.
From this place the rajah had said I could obtain an unobstructed view
of the cliff, but when we arrived there a neighboring hill completely hid
it from view. He then excused himself by saying that he had never been
there before; and, when I informed him that I must go on until I could
see it perfectly, the tears actually stood in his eyes from fear, he was
so certain we should meet with the Evil Spirit. One of the Battas, who
knew the way, offered to be my guide, and I released the rajah from the
Resident’s order to accompany me as far as I wished to go, and continued
on, for I had no fear of meeting Apollyon in the next valley.
Two sections at right angles showed that the strata of this cliff were
nearly horizontal, and composed of a light-colored clay, containing many
coarse crystals of quartz. These materials had recently been formed by
the decomposition of the adjoining syenitic rocks, and had been arranged
into layers by the action of water. The height to the top of the cliff
from the bed of the brook I judge to be eight hundred feet, and that
is at least fifty feet above the level of the sea, making the whole
elevation which this part of the island has recently undergone to be
eight hundred and fifty feet.
When we returned to the Batta village, the rajah seemed greatly relieved,
for he declared that he believed he should never see us again. Such
are the superstitious terrors that constantly torture the imaginations
of these ignorant people. On our return, a heavy rain set in, which
completely drenched us and swelled the brook. Again and again the
strong current came near sweeping us off the slippery rocks, while the
lightning flashed in broad sheets and the thunders echoed and reëchoed
in the deep ravine. The Malays who formed my guard then began to discuss
in an undertone, without thinking that I overheard them, whether the
Evil Spirit would not, after all, bring some dreadful misfortune on the
white gentleman for daring to visit his abode. One suggested that the
Battas might yet capture him on one of his dangerous excursions. Another
said he would probably have an attack of fever (which I confess I myself
considered probable), for after such exposure to the hot sun, and such
a drenching, any man, even a native, is likely to find a keen burning
in his veins the next morning. The rajah, however, replied to these
unfavorable suggestions, that Tuan Allah would take pity on him, and not
allow even the rain to harm him, for he was a good man, and it could not
be very wicked in any one simply to go and see where the Evil Spirit
lived. My feet and ankles had become so bruised from treading on the
rough rocks in the bed of the torrent, and so cut from walking through
the tall grass, that as soon as I reached my room I went to bed, and did
not rise for thirty hours; but the rajah’s predictions proved true, and I
escaped without even an attack of fever.
A few days afterward, a rajah came from his village on the coast near
Barus, or Barros, a small port about thirty miles toward Achin. He said
that some neighboring Battas had taken two of his men, and had already
_eaten_ one of them, and were keeping the other to eat him also, and that
he came to Siboga to ask the Resident that soldiers be sent to compel
those cannibals to deliver up their intended victim. Such a request, of
course, it was not possible for the Resident to grant, however much he
might wish to do so, for the whole country is extremely mountainous, and
covered with a dense, impenetrable forest; and the moment these Battas
have finished their attack, they instantly retreat into the interior
without allowing the Dutch the possibility of punishing them, except by
subjugating the entire country, and that would be a work of the greatest
difficulty, and one that would require much time, and money, and bring
no adequate recompense. It is such a common thing for the foreigners
here at Siboga to hear that one or more natives have been eaten in the
neighboring mountains, that no one thinks of speaking of it as any thing
strange or even incredible. In the Silindong valley two missionaries have
been living for some time, trying to educate and convert the Battas. I
met one of them with his bride at the governor’s residence when I arrived
at Padang. The lady had arrived but a short time before from Holland,
and they were just then starting on their wedding tour to their future
residence among the cannibals. The other missionary is now at this
village, and I have just been present at his wedding. His wife is a young
lady of not more than seventeen summers, and what is stranger than all
in both of these matches is, that neither of these gentlemen had seen
his betrothed before she arrived, except in a miniature, which of course
might or might not be a good likeness. It may relieve the curious for me
to state that all parties are entirely satisfied.
This missionary tells me that he knew of a Batta who had been guilty of
stealing an article of only very little value according to their ideas of
wealth, yet he was seized, his arms extended at full length and fastened
to a bamboo, a sharpened prop placed under his chin, so that he could
not move his head, and in this condition he was bound fast to a tree.
The knife was then handed to the native who had lost the article, and
he was ordered to step forward and cut out of the living man what piece
he preferred. This he did promptly; the rajah took the second choice,
and then the people finished the cold-blooded butchery, and thus their
victim died. This revolting feast, he assures me, took place but a short
distance from the village where he resides. How any lady can think of
going to live among such dangers I cannot conceive; but Madame Pfeiffer,
according to her account, went considerably farther than the place where
these missionaries reside, and even reached the northern end of the
Silindong valley; but I am assured here, and she states nearly the same
thing in her book, that the Battas only permitted her to return because
they regarded her as a witch. Three years after she performed that
journey, three French priests were butchered and devoured, before they
had come near to the farthest place she had reached alone. No Malay would
have ever escaped who had gone so far into their country.
[Illustration: A NATIVE OF THE ISLAND OF NIAS.]
The parts that are esteemed the greatest delicacies are the palms of
the hands, and, after them, the eyes. As soon as a piece is cut out it
is dipped, still warm and steaming, in _sambal_, a common condiment,
composed of red or Chili peppers and a few grains of coarse salt, ground
up between two flat stones. Formerly it appears to have been the custom
to broil the human flesh, for Mr. Marsden states that, in December,
1780, a native of Nias, who stabbed a Batta at Batang Taroh, the river
I crossed on the suspension bridge, was seized at six one morning, and,
without any judicial process, was tied to a stake, cut in pieces with
the utmost eagerness while yet alive, and eaten upon the spot, partly
_broiled_, but mostly raw.
It is probably on account of the difficulty of penetrating their inland
and elevated country, and from the natural ferocity of these people, that
the Mohammedan priests of the neighboring country of Menangkabau have
failed to induce the Battas to adopt their religion. The first white men
who went up far into the interior appear to have been Mr. Ward and Mr.
Burton, two English missionaries, about the year 1820.
They started from this place, and reached the Silindong valley. Their
object was to reach Lake Toba, but they were only obliged to return on
account of their becoming seriously ill. The kindly manner in which they
were treated is very different from the reception all other white men
have received at the hands of these cannibals.
It appears that the next white men who went up into the interior of this
country were two American missionaries, Henry Lyman and Samuel Munson,
graduates of Amherst College, and natives of Massachusetts. In 1835 they
sailed from Batavia to Padang, and thence came directly up the coast to
the Batu Islands, Pulo Nias, and this bay. From this village they went up
into the interior toward Lake Toba, and when about fifty miles distant
they were attacked and killed by the Battas.
Considering the friendly reception given the former missionaries, I do
not think this journey promised such an unhappy issue.
The Battas certainly do not eat human flesh for lack of food, nor wholly
to satisfy revenge, but chiefly to gratify their appetites. The governor
at Padang informed me that these people gave him this odd origin of their
cannibal customs: Many years ago one of their rajahs committed a great
crime, and it was evident to all that, exalted as he was, he ought to be
punished, but no one would take upon himself the responsibility to punish
a prince. After much consultation they at last hit upon the happy idea
that he should be put to death, but they would all eat a piece of his
body, and in this way all would share in punishing him. During this feast
each one, to his astonishment, found the portion assigned him a most
palatable morsel, and they all agreed that whenever another convict was
to be put to death they would allow themselves to gratify their appetites
again in the same manner, and thus arose the custom which has been handed
down from one generation to another till the present day.
For many years after the discovery of a passage to the East by sea,
pepper formed the principal article of trade, and even Vasco de Gama,
who made this great discovery, appears not to have been satisfied with
the results and prospects of his voyage until he had fully loaded his
ships with it. At that time it was worth about seventy-five cents per
pound in Europe. For a century afterward, so completely was this trade
monopolized by the Portuguese and Dutch Governments, that it constantly
commanded even a higher price. Except salt, perhaps no other condiment is
so universally used; and yet the natives, who cultivate it for the rest
of the world, never use it themselves, just as we have already seen is
the case with those Malays who raise cloves and nutmeg and mace.
It was used by the Romans more than two thousand years ago; and Pliny
is surprised that people should go all the way to India to obtain a
condiment that had nothing to recommend it but its pungency (_amaritudo_).
In the early part of this century a very considerable trade in pepper
was carried on by American vessels, chiefly from Boston and Salem, with
this island, especially between this place and Achin, a region generally
known to our sailors as “The Pepper Coast.” Serious troubles often arose
between their crews and the natives, and in 1830 nearly all the officers
and crew of the ship Friendship, of Salem, were overpowered and murdered
but a little farther north.
The region where the pepper-vine is now mostly cultivated is south of
Palembang, on the banks of the river Ogan. In the archipelago it does
not grow wild, and is only cultivated on Sumatra and a few of the
Philippines. Its Javanese name, _maricha_, is pure Sanscrit, and this as
well as its distribution indicates that it was introduced from India.
Here, at Tapanuli, are many natives of Achin, and their darker color and
greater stature at once mark them as another people, and indicate that
they are the descendants of natives of India and Malays, and this is
completely in accordance with what we know of their history. The village
of Achin is situated at the northwestern extremity of the island, on a
small river two miles from where it empties into a bay, which is well
sheltered by islands from the wind and sea in all seasons. On account of
its good roadstead, and its being the nearest point to India in the whole
archipelago, Achin appears to have been, for ages before the arrival of
Europeans, the great mart for the Telinga traders from the eastern shores
of the southern part of India.
There they brought cotton fabrics, salt, and opium, and obtained in
exchange tin, gold, pepper, cloves, nutmegs, mace, betel-nuts, sulphur,
camphor, and benzoin. When the Portuguese first arrived, in 1509, under
Sequiera, at the neighboring city of Pedir, Achin was tributary to that
city, but in 1521 an energetic prince came to the throne; in eighteen
years he had conquered all the neighboring kingdoms, and his city
became the great commercial emporium for all the western part of the
archipelago. This prosperity it continued to enjoy for a hundred and
fifty years. Its fame even reached Europe, and the proudest sovereigns
were anxious to obtain the favor of the King of Achin, and make
commercial treaties with him.
Here the English first appeared, in 1602, under Sir James Lancaster,
who commanded a squadron of four ships, and was furnished with a letter
from Queen Elizabeth[53] to the king, who had been a fisherman, and had
only obtained the throne by murdering the prince who would have lawfully
inherited it. Such was the humble appearance of the English in the East
two centuries and a half ago.
Little probably could even the far-seeing queen herself have imagined
that one of her successors should reign over the hundred and fifty
millions of Hindustan; that her Eastern merchants would soon give up
the trade in pepper with Sumatra, and in spices with the Moluccas,
for the far more lucrative commerce in silks and teas with China, and
especially that to the then unexplored continent of Australia citizens
of her own kingdom would migrate, and there lay the foundation of the
most enterprising, flourishing, and, what promises to be within the next
century, the greatest power in all the East.
When we started from Padang it was planned that a man-of-war should come
to Siboga and take us back; but we have been obliged to wait here ten
days, and now she has come only to take the Resident, and go to Singkel,
the farthest point up the coast held by the Dutch.
The captain of the steamer on which I came from Surabaya to Batavia,
however, has chanced to arrive in a little prau, in which he has been
visiting several places along the coast for the purpose of ascertaining
the facilities for obtaining timber to be used in constructing some
government buildings at Padang. He is now on the point of sailing to
the Batu Islands and thence to Padang, and proposes that I share the
dangers of such a voyage in his little boat, an offer which I gladly
accept, but Mr. Terville, the inspector, prefers to wait for the return
of the steamship. Our boat is about thirty feet long by eight broad,
and instead of being covered by a flat deck, has a steep roof, which
descends on either side to the railing like the Javanese junks. Aft,
where the tiller sweeps round, the deck is horizontal, but, as the stern
is nearly as sharply-pointed as the bow, there is little room to sit. We
have one mast, with a large, tattered mainsail and two jibs.
At midnight there was a little breeze from the land and we weighed anchor
and stood to sea. In the morning we found ourselves becalmed about five
miles from Tunkus Nasi, a sharp, conical island, which forms the southern
extremity of Tapanuli Bay. Somewhat more to the west was the high
plateau-like island of Mensalla. On its northwestern shore there is a
waterfall, where the water leaps down some two hundred feet directly into
the sea. It is so high that when I was at Siboga, people who have been at
Barus assured me they have been able to see it when the sun shone on it,
though the distance is some sixteen miles. At sunset we were so far down
the coast that it was time for us to change our course to the south if we
would visit the Batu Islands.
Our Malay captain was anxious that we should keep on our course to
Padang; my friend said he cared very little to go to those islands, and
when I looked at the ragged mainsail and realized that it would probably
disappear in a moment if a heavy squall chanced to strike us, I gave my
vote to continue on near the shore. Besides, the sky looked threatening,
and we were evidently in a miserable vessel to live out a fresh gale
and a heavy sea. Near midnight I was aroused by our boat pitching and
rolling heavily, and the captain shouting out to his Malay crew all
sorts of orders in rapid succession. Soon he came down to inform us, in
the most trembling tones, it was so dark that it was not possible to
see any thing, and in a few moments we should all be drowned. I hurried
on deck, more from a habit of always wishing to see what is going to
happen, than from fear. A thick, black mass of clouds was rolling up from
seaward and spreading over the sky with alarming rapidity. The mainsail
was taken in and only the main-jib was set, when the first gust struck
us. Immediately, as if rolled over by a gigantic hand, our boat careened
until her lee-rail was completely under water, and I thought, for a
moment, she would certainly capsize. The main-jib burst into ribbons,
and at last we righted. The flying-jib was then set, when she came near
upsetting again. We were then only about a mile from the land, and the
wind was directly on shore, so that it was impossible to save ourselves
by running before it. Nothing could be done to keep off the rocks
excepting to heave-to and trust to our anchor. All the cable possible
was paid out, and yet the tempest continued to drive us toward the land.
Another gust came, and as the lightning flashed I could see that we were
not half a mile from a high island with precipitous shores, encircled by
a coral reef, where the heavy swell rolling directly in from the ocean
was breaking apparently twelve or fifteen feet high. I knew that at
the rate we were drifting we must strike on it in fifteen minutes, and
that to a certainty our frail boat would be broken into fragments in an
instant. There was no possibility of escape, for the most expert swimmer
could not possibly have saved himself in such a frightful surf. I coolly
concluded that that would be the last of my dangers and resigned myself
to my fate. Soon, however, the horizon became somewhat clearer, and,
better than all, our anchor had evidently struck into good holding-ground
and was keeping us from drifting. In an hour more the tempest was over,
though the heavy swell continued to roll in as before. In the morning
we found ourselves not far from Ayar Bangis, and put in there while our
crew mended the sails. This is the port to which the coffee raised in
the valley of Rau, in the interior, is brought down, to be hence shipped
in praus to Padang, where it is placed in the government storehouse and
sold at auction four times a year, viz., in March, June, September, and
December. Natal, about twenty-five miles north of here, is the chief port
to which is brought the valuable coffee raised in the fertile valley of
Mandéling, of which Fort Elout is the capital. All this part of Sumatra
abounds in very valuable timber, and the Resident here showed us some
magnificent logs which his natives are sawing into planks. If we had such
timber in our country we would use it for the nicest kinds of veneering.
As the storm continued, we remained for a day among the islands off Ayar
Bangis. They are mostly low, and nearly all composed of coral rock. The
natives live on fish and the cocoa-nuts which they raise in great numbers
on these low coral islands.
The chief value of the cocoa-nuts here, as in the eastern part of the
archipelago, is for the oil they yield; considerable quantities of that
article are brought to Padang from these, the Batu and other islands off
this part of Sumatra.
At sunset, next day, we were near Pasaman, a small place on the coast,
west of the lofty peak of Ophir. Thousands of small, fleecy cumuli at
that time covered the sky, and, as the sun neared the horizon, all these
clouds were changed into the brightest gold. Indeed, the whole sky seemed
literally paved with small blocks of gold, most of which were bordered
with a narrow margin of purple. One end of this great arch seemed to rest
on the distant horizon, the other on the crests of the lofty mountains
east of us, but especially on the top of Mount Ophir, whose western side
was lighted up with tints of gold and purple of surpassing richness.
All this glorious display in the heavens was so perfectly repeated, even
to the minutest details, on the calm sea, that it was difficult to tell
which to admire more, the sky or the ocean. Of all the rich sunsets I
enjoyed while in the tropical East, this was by far the most magnificent,
and never did I imagine it was possible for any one, while here on earth,
to behold a scene that would so nearly approach the splendor of the
Celestial City, described in the apocalyptic vision as being “of pure
gold, like unto clear glass.”
The next morning we were near Tiku, a village at the mouth of the small
stream that flows out from the lake in the bottom of the great crater of
Manindyu. The circular mountain-range which forms the walls of this great
crater was clearly seen, and the deep rent through it, by which the
waters collected in the bottom of the crater find a passage out to the
sea. Twenty miles south of Tiku is Priaman, the place to which most of
the coffee from the Menangkabau, or, as the Dutch prefer to call it, the
Padang plateau, is brought to be sent in praus to Padang. On the evening
of the fifth day the Apenburg, on Ape Hill, which marks the approach to
Padang, and the shipping in the road, near by, were in full view. One
large and very fine ship was flying the American ensign. In a few hours
more I found myself again in the palace of the governor, and thus the
expedition through the land of cannibals was safely over.
The American ship was owned by one of the largest and most enterprising
firms in Boston. Her captain and his lady were on shore, and I soon
hurried to their boarding-place; and, at once, we almost felt ourselves
back in New England, and forgot that we were far from America, in a land
of palms, and of one long, endless summer.
The chief article exported from this place to the United States is
coffee. It is a very variable crop. During the last nine years it has
varied in quantity from six thousand piculs (eight hundred thousand
pounds) in 1857, to seventy-two thousand piculs (nine million six hundred
thousand pounds) in 1858.[54]
The king’s birthday—the great national holiday with the Dutch—now
occurred. In the morning there was a grand parade on the lawn, in
front of the governor’s palace, of all the European and native troops,
numbering in all some four or five thousand, but many others are
stationed in small bodies at various places in the interior. They were
organized in battalions on the French plan, and their appearance and
manœuvring were very creditable. There was a small mounted force, much
like our flying artillery. This, I was informed, proved to be one of the
most efficient parts of the army in their contests with the natives—the
paths in the interior always being so narrow and so extremely uneven that
only very light cannon can be brought into use. After the parade the
governor, as the representative of the king, received the congratulations
of all the officials in that region. The day ended with a grand ball, to
which, I may add, the mestizo belles were not only invited, but came, and
took as prominent a part as the ladies who had the envied fortune to be
born in Europe. At every little post the highest official receives the
congratulations of his brother-officers in similar manner, and all are
required to appear in full dress with cocked hats.
After having served in our own gigantic war, where a sash, a pair
of small shoulder-straps, a few bright buttons, and a gold cord
round a slouched hat, were sufficient to indicate the rank of even a
major-general, I was quite dazzled by the brilliant uniforms of even
the most petty officials in the Dutch service. The army officers wear
epaulets, and broad bands of gold lace on the pantaloons, collars, and
cuffs. The backs of their coats are figured over in the most extravagant
fashion. The civil officers present a similar gaudy display in silver.
The object of all this is to impress the natives with a high idea of the
wealth and power of the Dutch Government, and of the great dignity of
those who are honored by being selected to administer it; and exactly
these ideas are conveyed to the minds of the natives by such displays.
Their own rajahs and princes never appear in public without making the
most dazzling show possible; and the mass of the people, therefore, have
come to think that their rulers must be weak and poor, and even more
worthy of their contempt than their respect, if they do not make a most
imposing appearance on all great occasions.