[CONTINUATION OF STERN’S COMPOSITION.]
Havelaar had requested the Controller to invite the chiefs who were at
Rankas-Betong to stay there till the next day to be present at the
Sebah (council) which he intended to convene. Such a council generally
took place once a month; but either because he wished to spare some
chiefs who lived very far from the capital the unnecessary journey to
and fro, or because he wished to speak to them immediately
impressively, and without waiting for the appointed day, he chose the
next morning for the first Sebah.
To the left of his mansion, but in the same grounds, and opposite the
house which Madam Slotering occupied, stood a building, part of which
was used for the offices of the Assistant Resident, where was also the
Treasury. This building contained a large open gallery, which made it a
very good place for such a council. There the chiefs assembled betimes
in the morning. Havelaar entered, saluted, and sat down. He received
the written reports on agriculture, police, and justice, and put them
aside for after examination.
Every one expected an address such as the Resident had delivered the
day before, and it was not quite certain that Havelaar himself intended
to say anything else to the chiefs; but you ought to have seen him on
such occasions to conceive how he, at speeches like those, grew
excited, and, through his peculiar way of speaking, communicated a new
colour to the most common things; how he became taller, so to speak,
how his glance shot fire, how his voice passed from a flattering
softness to a lancet sharpness, how the metaphors flowed from his lips,
as if he was scattering some precious commodity round about him, which,
however, cost him nothing, and how, when he ceased, every one looked at
him with an open mouth, as if asking, “Good God! who are you?”
It is true that he himself who spoke on such occasions as an apostle,
as a seer, afterwards did not exactly know how he had spoken, and his
eloquence was therefore more powerful to astonish and to touch, than to
convince by solid argument. He would have excited the martial spirit of
the Athenians to frenzy as soon as they had decided to go to war with
Philip; but he would not have succeeded so well, if it had been his
task to incite them to this war through cogency of reasoning. His
harangue to the chiefs of Lebak was of course in Malay,—a circumstance
which added greatly to its effect, because the simplicity of the
Oriental tongues gives to many expressions a force which has been lost
in the greater formality of the languages of the West; whilst, on the
other hand, it is difficult to render the sweetness of the Malay in any
other language. We must, moreover, take into consideration, that the
greater part of his listeners consisted of simple, but not at all
stupid men, and at the same time Orientals, whose impressions differ
considerably from our own.
Havelaar spoke almost as follows:—
“Mr. Radeen Adhipatti, [49] Regent of Bantam-Kidool, [50] and you
Radeens Demang, that are chiefs of the districts of this province, and
you Radeen Djaksa, administrator of justice, and you too, Radeen
Kliwon, governor of the chief town, and you Radeens, Mantries, and all
that are chiefs in the district of Bantam-Kidool——I salute you.
“And I tell you that I feel joy in my heart when I see you all
assembled, and listening to the words of my mouth.
“I know that there are amongst you men who excel in knowledge and
goodness of heart: I hope to enlarge my knowledge by contact with
yours; for it is not so great as I should wish; and I certainly love
probity, but I perceive that there are often in my soul faults that
overshadow the probity, and hinder the growth; for you know how the
large tree pushes away and kills the little tree. Therefore I shall
look to those amongst you who excel in virtue, to try to become better
than I am.
“I heartily salute you all.
“When the Governor-General commanded me to come to you as Assistant
Resident in this district, my heart rejoiced. You know that I had never
set foot on Bantam-Kidool; therefore I have obtained information about
your district, and have seen that there is much good in Bantam-Kidool.
Your people possess rice-fields in the valleys, and there are
rice-fields on the mountains. And you wish to live in peace, and you do
not desire to live in those districts that are inhabited by other
persons. Yes, I know that there is much good in Bantam-Kidool.
“But not on that account alone did my heart rejoice; for elsewhere,
also, I should have found much good.
“But I discovered that your population is poor, and therefore I
rejoiced with all my soul.
“For I know that Allah loves the poor, and that He gives riches to
whomsoever He will try; but to the poor He sends all who speak His
word, that they may rise in the midst of their misery.
“Does not He give rain when the blade would otherwise wither, and a
dewdrop in the cup of the thirsty flower?
“And is it not sublime to be sent to seek them that are weary, who have
lingered behind after the work and have fallen down exhausted on the
road, because their knees were not strong enough to carry them to the
place where they should receive their wages? Should not I be glad to
give a helping hand to him who tumbled into the ditch, and a staff to
him who climbs the mountains?
“Should not my heart leap with joy when it sees that I have been
selected amongst many to turn lamentation into prayer, weeping into
thanksgiving?
“Yes, I am very glad to be in Bantam-Kidool.
“I said to the woman who shares my sorrows and increases my happiness:—
“‘Rejoice, for I see that Allah gives a blessing on the head of our
child! He has sent me to a place where work is to be done, and He
thought me worthy to be there before harvest-time. For the joy is not
in cutting paddy; [51] the joy is in cutting the paddy which one has
planted. And the soul of man does not rejoice in wages, but in the
labour that earns those wages.’ And I said to her: ‘Allah has given us
a child; and there will come a time when he shall say: “Do you know
that I am his son?” and then there will be those in the country who
will greet him with love, who will put a hand on his head and say: “Sit
down to our dinner, and live in our house, and take your portion of
what we have; for we knew your father.”’
“For, chiefs of Lebak, there is much to be done in your district.
“Tell me, is not the labourer poor? Does not your paddy often ripen for
those who did not plant it? Are there not many wrongs in your country?
Is not the number of your children small?
“Is there no shame in your souls when the natives of Bolang, which lies
over there in the East, visit your country, and ask, ‘Where are the
villages, and where the husbandmen, and why do not I hear the gamlang,
[52] which speaks joy out of a mouth of brass, nor the stamping of
paddy by your daughters?’
“Is there no bitterness in journeying from here to the South coast, in
seeing the mountains that have no water on their sides, or the plains
where the buffalo never drew the plough?
“Yes, yes, I tell you, that your soul and mine are sad because of these
things; and, therefore, we are grateful to Allah, that He has given us
the power to labour here.
“For we have in this country fields for many, though the inhabitants
are few. And it is not the rain which fails, for the summits of the
mountains suck the clouds of heaven to the earth. And not everywhere
are rocks that refuse a place to the root; for in many places the
ground is soft and fertile, and calls for the grain, which it is
willing to return you in a bended blade. And there is no war in the
country, whereby the paddy is trodden down while yet green, nor is
there sickness to paralyse the patjol. [53] Neither are the sunbeams
more powerful than is necessary to ripen the grain, that has to be food
for you and your children; nor banjers, [54] that make you say, ‘Show
me the place where I have sown.’
“Where Allah sends inundations that wash away the fields; where He
hardens the ground as barren stones; where He makes the sun burn even
to scorching; where He sends war to devastate the fields; where He
slays with diseases, that make the hands weak, or with dryness that
kills the corn——there, chiefs of Lebak, we bend our heads, and say:
‘His will be done!’
“But it is not so in Bantam-Kidool.
“I have been sent here to be your friend, your elder brother. Should
not you warn your younger brother, if you saw a tiger in his way?
“Chiefs of Lebak, we have often committed faults, and our country is
poor, because we have committed so many faults.
“For in Tjikandi, Bolang, and Krawang, in the regions round about
Batavia, there are many men who were born in our country, and who have
left our country.
“Why do they seek labour far from the place where they buried their
parents? Why have they fled from the village where they were
circumcised? Why do they prefer the coolness of the tree that grows
there, to the shade of our woods?
“And even there to the North-West, over the sea, are many who ought to
be our children, but who have left Lebak to wander in foreign countries
with Kris, [55] and Klewang, [56] and gun! And there they die
miserably; for the Government has power to beat the rebels.
“I ask you, chiefs of Lebak, why have many gone away, not to be buried
where they were born? Why does the tree ask, ‘Where is the man whom I
saw playing at my foot when a child?’”
Havelaar waited here for a moment. To understand in some degree the
impression which his words made, one ought to have heard and seen him.
When he spoke of his child, there was a softness in his voice,
something that was extremely touching, and which allured you to ask,
“Where is the little one? I will at once kiss the child, that made his
father speak so;” but when he soon afterwards passed with little order
to the questions why Lebak was poor, and why so many inhabitants of
these regions removed to other places, there was in his tone something
which made you think of the noise that a drill makes when forcibly
turned in hard wood. Yet he did not speak very loud, neither did he put
any stress on certain words; there was even something monotonous in his
voice, but whether studied or natural, which by this very monotony made
the impression of his words stronger on minds that were so particularly
sensitive to such a language. His metaphors, which he always borrowed
from the life that surrounded him, were to him as allies to make what
he meant perfectly understood, and not, as often happens, troublesome
appendages, which burden the phrases of orators, without adding any
plainness to the conception of what is meant to be illustrated. We are
now-a-days accustomed to the absurdity of the expression “Strong as a
lion;” but he who first used this metaphor in Europe, showed that he
had not drawn the comparison from the poetry of the soul, which
furnishes figures of speech, and cannot speak otherwise, but that he
had simply copied this from some book,—from the Bible, perhaps,—in
which a lion was mentioned. For none of his hearers ever tried the
strength of the lion, and it would therefore have been rather necessary
to make them estimate that strength, by comparing the lion to some
other creature whose strength was known to them, than otherwise.
You see, that Havelaar was truly a poet, that he, speaking of the
rice-fields, that were on the mountains, directed his eyes thither
through the open side of the hall, and that he really stood there; and
in the imagination of Havelaar’s hearers he really looked about and
asked for the inhabitants of Lebak that had gone. He invented nothing;
he heard the tree speak, and only thought that he repeated what he
imagined to have heard so distinctly in his poetical inspiration.
Should any one, perhaps, be inclined to make the observation, that the
originality of Havelaar’s manner of speaking is not so indisputable, as
his language makes you think of the style of the prophets of the Old
Testament, I must remind him of what I said before, that in moments of
ecstasy he was indeed something of a seer, and that he, fed by the
impressions communicated to him by living in forests and on mountains,
and by the poesy-breathing atmosphere of the East, would probably not
have spoken otherwise, even if he had never read the sublime poems of
the Old Testament.
Do we not find, in the verses written by him in early youth, lines like
the following, which were composed on the Salak—one of the highest
summits of the Preangan Regencies,—in the exordium of which he displays
the softness of his emotions, and then suddenly passes to the
description of the thunder which he hears below him:—
“’Tis sweeter here our Maker loud to praise:
Prayer sounds more beautiful among the hills
Than in the plains. Upon the mountain top
The heart is nearer to its God, who makes
Unto Himself an altar and a fane,
Unsullied by the foot of human pride.
’Tis here He makes the rattling tempest heard—
Summons His rolling thunder—Majesty!”
Do you not feel that he could not have written the last two lines if he
had not really heard God’s thunder, dictating to him in reverberating
crashes along the mountain sides?
But he did not like to write poetry; it was, as he said, “like putting
on a stiff corset,” and when he was induced to read anything of what he
had written, he took pleasure in abusing his own work, either by
reading in a ridiculous tone, or by stopping short at a most solemn
place, and throwing in a pun which shocked his hearers. This was
nothing more than a satire upon the disproportion between his soul and
the corset which confined it.
Havelaar had ordered by a sign the customary tea and sweetmeats; but
few of the chiefs partook of the refreshments. It appears that he had
paused with premeditation at the end of his speech; and there was a
reason for it. What must the chiefs have thought of his knowing already
that so many had left Lebak with bitterness in their hearts? of his
knowing already how many families had emigrated to neighbouring
countries to avoid the poverty that reigned here? and of his knowing
the fact that there are so many Bantammers amongst the bands in revolt
against the Dutch Government? What does he mean? what is he aiming at?
who is concerned in his questions?
And some of them looked at the district chief of Parang-Koodjang. But
most of them looked at the ground.
“Come here, Max,” said Havelaar, who perceived his child playing before
the house, and the Adhipatti took the boy on his knee; but he was too
wild to remain there long; he jumped away and ran round the large
circle amusing the chiefs with his talk, and playing with the hilts of
their weapons. When he came up to the Djaksa, [57] who excelled all the
others in his uniform, and thereby attracted the child, the Djaksa
showed something on little Max’s head to the Kliwon, [58] who sat near
him, and who seemed to assent to an observation about it.
“Go away now, Max,” Havelaar said; “papa has something to say to these
gentlemen,” and the little boy ran away, kissing his hands to them.
“Chiefs of Lebak! we are all of us in the service of the King of
Holland. But he, who is just, and desires that we should perform our
duty, is far from here. Thirty times a thousand thousand souls, nay
more, are under his rule, but he cannot be near all of those who are
dependent on his will.
“The Governor-General at Buitenzorg [59] is just, and desires that
every one should do his duty; but powerful as he is, and commanding all
authority in the cities, and the elders of the villages, and disposing
of the army on land, and of the ships at sea, he likewise can no more
than the King see where injustice has been done, for the injustice is
far from him.
“And the Resident at Serang, who is lord of the Residency of Bantam,
where live five times a hundred thousand men, desires that justice
shall be done in his dominion, and that righteousness shall reign in
those parts that obey him. But where injustice has been done he lives
far from it, and whoever does wickedly, hides himself from his face
because he fears punishment.
“And Mr. Adhipatti, who is Regent of South Bantam, wills that every one
does good, and that there shall be no infamy in that country over which
he is Regent.
“And I, who yesterday called God Almighty to witness that I would be
just and merciful, that I would maintain justice without fear or
hatred, that I would be ‘a good Assistant Resident,’ I wish to do my
duty.
“Chiefs of Lebak! we all wish to do our duty.
“But if there should be amongst us any who neglect their duty for gain,
who sell the Right for money, or who take away the buffalo from the
poor, and bread from those who are hungry——who shall punish them?
“If any of you knew it, he would stop it, and the Regent would not
suffer such an injustice to be done in his Regency, and I myself should
oppose it where I could, but if neither you, nor the Regent, nor I knew
it——
“Chiefs of Lebak! who shall then do justice in Bantam-Kidool?
“Hear me, and I will tell you how justice would be done in such a case.
“There comes a time when our wives and children shall weep while
preparing our shroud, and the passers-by shall say, ‘A man has died
there.’ Then he who arrives in the villages shall bring the news of the
death of him that has died, and the person who lodges him shall ask,
‘Who was the man that died?’
“‘He was good and just. He did justice, and drove not the suppliant
from his door. He listened patiently to all who came to him, and
returned that which had been taken away. And him who could not plough
his land, because the buffalo had been taken out of his stables, he
assisted to seek for the buffalo; and where the daughter had been
carried off from the house of her mother, he sought the thief and
brought the daughter back. And where work had been done, he did not
withhold the wages, nor take away the fruit of him who planted the
tree, nor the coat that was another’s, nor eat the food that belonged
to the poor.’
“Then it shall be said in the villages:—
“‘Allah is great: Allah has taken him home. His will be done: a good
man has died.’
“But again the passenger shall stand before a house and ask, ‘What is
this, that the gamlang is silent, and the song of the maidens is
hushed?’ And again it shall be said, ‘A man has died.’
“And whosoever journeys to the villages, shall sit in the evening with
the host, and round about him the sons and daughters of the house, and
the children of those who live in the village, and he shall say:—
“‘A man has died, who promised to be just; and he sold justice to every
one who gave him money. He watered his field with the sweat of the
labourer whom he had called away from his own labour. He did not pay
the labourer his wages, but lived on the food of the poor. He became
rich from the poverty of others. He had much gold and silver, and
plenty of precious stones; but the labourer who lives in the
neighbourhood did not know how to appease the hunger of his child. He
smiled like a happy man; but there was gnashing of the teeth from the
suppliant who sought justice. There was contentedness on his features;
but there was no milk in the breasts of the mothers who would fain have
given suck.’
“Then the people of the villages will say:—
“‘Allah is great——we curse no one!’
“Chiefs of Lebak! there comes a time when all of us must die!
“What shall be said in the villages where we have had power, and what
by the bystanders who witness the funeral? and what shall we answer if,
after death, a voice speaks to our soul, and asks, ‘Why is there
weeping in the fields, and how is it that the young men hide
themselves? Who took the harvest out of the barn, and the buffalo that
should have ploughed the fields out of the stall? What have you done
with your brother whom I gave you to watch over? Why is the poor man
sad? Why does he curse the fruitfulness of his wife?’”
Here Havelaar paused again for a few moments; and then continued, in
the most simple tone possible, and as if nothing had been said to make
an impression:—
“I wish to live on good terms with you, and therefore I beg you to
regard me as your friend. Every one who has erred may reckon on a
lenient sentence from me, for as I err so often myself, I shall not be
severe; at least not in ordinary mistakes or negligences. Only where
negligence becomes a custom, I will oppose it. Of faults of a more
grave kind——of tyranny and extortion, I do not speak—such a thing shall
not happen; is it not so, Regent?”
“Oh no, Mr. Assistant Resident, such a thing shall not happen in
Lebak.”
“Well then, gentlemen, chiefs of Bantam-Kidool! let us be glad that our
province is so poor. We have a noble work before us. If Allah preserve
us alive, we shall take care that prosperity comes. The ground is
fertile enough, the population willing; if every one is suffered to
remain in the enjoyment of the fruits of his labour, there is no doubt
that within a short time the population will improve, as well both in
the number of souls as in possessions and civilisation, for these
things generally go hand in hand. I beg you again to regard me as a
friend who will help you where he can, above all where injustice must
be prevented. And now I commend myself to your co-operation.
“I will return to you the reports I have received on agriculture,
cattle-breeding, police, and justice, with my orders.
“Chiefs of Lebak! I have said. You can return every one to his home. I
cordially greet you all.”
He bowed, offered his arm to the old Regent, and conducted him to his
house, where Tine awaited him in the gallery.
“Come, Verbrugge, don’t go home yet. Come, a glass of Madeira! And,
yes, I must know that——Radeen Djaksa! stop a moment.”
Havelaar said this whilst all the chiefs, bowing low, prepared to
return to their homes. Verbrugge, too, was about to take his leave, but
returned with the Djaksa.
“Tine, I’ll take some Madeira; so will Verbrugge. I say, Djaksa! tell
me what you said about Max to the Kliwon?
“Minta ampong (I beg your pardon), Mr. Assistant Resident; I looked at
his head, because you had spoken.
“What the deuce has his head to do with that? I have already forgotten
what I said.”
“Sir, I said to the Kliwon——” [Tine approached, they spoke about little
Max.]
“I said to the Kliwon, that the Sinjo” (Portuguese, Senko, which here
means young gentleman, on the same principle as lucus a non lucendo)
“was made for a king.”
Tine was glad to hear that——she thought so too!
“And the Adhipatti looked at the head of the little one, and to be
sure! he too saw the oeser-oeseran, [60] according to Javanese
superstition destined to wear a crown.”
As etiquette did not permit the Djaksa a place in the presence of the
Regent, he took his leave, and we were for some time together with the
Regent without speaking of anything relative to the “service.” But the
Regent asked all of a sudden, “if the money which was to the
tax-gatherer’s credit could not be paid?”
“Certainly not,” said Verbrugge, “Mr. Adhipatti knows that this cannot
be done till his responsibility ceases.”
Havelaar played with Max, but this did not prevent him from reading in
the Regent’s face that Verbrugge’s answer displeased him.
“Come, Verbrugge, don’t let us be troublesome,” said he, and he called
for a clerk out of the office. “We will pray that his account will
certainly be approved.”
After the Adhipatti had taken his leave, Verbrugge, who was a confirmed
red-tapeist, remonstrated—
“But, Mr. Havelaar, that must not be! The tax-gatherer’s account is
under examination at Serang.——Suppose anything to be wanting?”
“Then I will make it good,” Havelaar said.
Verbrugge did not understand this great consideration for the
tax-gatherer.
The clerk soon returned with some papers; Havelaar signed his name, and
ordered payment to be hastened.
“Verbrugge! I will tell you why I do this. The Regent has not a
farthing in the house: his writer told me so——he himself wants this
money, and the tax-gatherer will advance it to him. I would rather
transgress, on my own responsibility, a form, than leave a man of his
rank and years in perplexity. Moreover, Verbrugge! people at Lebak
abuse their power in a fearful way——you ought to know it: do you know
it?”
Verbrugge was silent.
“I know it!” Havelaar continued, “I do know it! Did not Mr. Slotering
die in November? Well! the day after his death, the Regent forced the
population to labour in his rice-fields without payment. You ought to
have known it——did you know it?”
Verbrugge did not know it.
“You ought to have known it. I know it,” continued Havelaar. “There you
have the monthly reports of the districts,”—and he showed the parcel
which he had received in the Council,—“look, I have opened nothing;
there are statements of the number of labourers that have worked in the
metropolis for the different chiefs.——Well, are these statements
correct?”
“I have not yet seen them——”
“Neither have I; still I ask you if they are correct?——Were last
month’s statements correct?”
Verbrugge was silent.
“I will tell it you: They were false! For three times the number of
labourers had to work for the Regent that the orders regulating such
matters permit, and they did not dare put this in the reports——Is what
I say true?”
Verbrugge was silent.
“The reports which I received to-day are likewise false,” continued
Havelaar; “the Regent is poor; the Regents of Bandong and Tjanjor are
members of the family of which he is the head. He is an Adhipatti, and
the Regent of Tjanjor is only a Tommongong, and because Lebak is not
fit for coffee-culture, and therefore gives him no emolument, his
revenues do not allow him to vie in magnificence and pomp with a simple
Demang of the Preangan Regencies, whose duty it would be to hold his
nephews’ horses——Is that true?”
“Yes, it is.”
“He has nothing but his salary, and from that a deduction is made to
pay off an advance which the Government gave him, when he——do you
know?”
“Yes, I do.”
“When he desired to build a new mosque, for which much money was
required. Moreover, many members of his family——do you know?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Many members of his family (who do not properly belong to Lebak, and
are therefore not much esteemed) range themselves as a troop of
plunderers round him, and extort money from him——is that true?”
“Yes,” said Verbrugge.
“And when his purse is empty, which is often the case, they take, in
his name, from the people what they like——is that so?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I am also well informed——but more about that by and by. The Regent,
who is old, has for some years been ruled by a desire to become
meritorious through gifts to the priests; he spends much money for the
travelling expenses of pilgrims to Mecca, who bring him back all sorts
of old relics and talismans——Is it not so?”
“Yes, that is true.”
“Well, because of all this he is very poor. The Demang of
Parang-Koodjang is his son-in-law. Where the Regent himself does not
dare to take, out of shame for his rank, this Demang does it. But it is
not the Demang alone—who courts the Regent by extorting money and goods
from the poor population, and who carries the people away from their
own rice-fields, by driving them to the Regent’s rice-fields; and he——!
I will believe, that he would willingly act otherwise, but necessity
compels him to make use of such means——Is not all this true,
Verbrugge?”
“Yes, it is true,” said Verbrugge, who perceived more and more that
Havelaar’s look was sharp.
“I knew,” said Havelaar, “that he had no money in his house. You heard
this morning, that it is my intention to do my duty. I will not suffer
injustice; God help me, I will not suffer that!” And he jumped up, and
there was something in his tone quite different from that of the day
before, while taking his official oath.—“But I will do my duty with
leniency. I do not care to know too exactly what has happened. But all
that happens henceforth is on my responsibility; I shall, therefore,
take care of that. I hope to remain here a long time. Do you know,
Verbrugge, that our vocation is noble indeed? But, do you know, also,
that I ought to have heard from you all that I have just told you? I
know you quite well, as well as I know who are in revolt on the South
coast: you are a good man, I know; but why did not you tell me of so
much wrong going on here? You have been for two months temporary
Assistant Resident, and moreover, you have been here a long time as
Controller; you ought to know it.”
“Mr. Havelaar, I never served under any one like you;—there’s something
very peculiar about you: don’t be offended.”
“Not at all; I know very well that I am not as all men——but what does
that matter?”
“You communicate to others conceptions and ideas never heard of
before.”
“No! they had fallen asleep in that despicable official stillness,
whose style is: ‘I have the honour to be,’ and its feeling ‘the perfect
satisfaction of the Government.’ No, Verbrugge! do not trouble yourself
about it. You need not learn anything from me.——For instance, this
morning in the Council have I told you anything new?”
“No, no news——but you spoke quite differently from others.”
“Yes, that is, because my education has been neglected.——I speak at
random. But you must tell me why you complied with all the wrong
existing in Lebak?”
“I never before had such an impression at an initiation——moreover, all
this has always been so in these countries.”
“Yes, yes; I know that very well——every one cannot be a prophet or an
apostle—wood would soon be too dear because of the crucifying. But
certainly you will help me to make all right: you undoubtedly like to
do your duty?”
“To be sure! above all with you. But not every one would claim, or tax
it so very severely, and then one gets so easily into the position of a
man who fights windmills.”
“No! those who love injustice because they live on it, say that there
was no injustice to have the pleasure of railing at you as a Don
Quixote, and keep their windmills turning at the same time. But,
Verbrugge! you needed not to wait for me to do your duty. Mr. Slotering
was a clever and honest man: he knew what happened; he condemned it and
opposed it. Look here!”—Havelaar took out of a writing-desk two sheets
of paper, and showing them to Verbrugge, he asked—
“Whose handwriting is this?”
“That is the handwriting of Mr. Slotering——”
“Exactly so—well! Here are two rough copies, evidently containing
subjects on which he wished to speak to the Resident. Look here:—1. ‘On
Rice Culture.’ 2. ‘On the Houses of the Village Chiefs.’ 3. ‘On the
Gathering of the Land-taxes!!’ etc. After the last are two points of
exclamation——what did Mr. Slotering mean by that?”
“I cannot tell,” said Verbrugge.
“I can. That means that more taxes are paid than flow into the
exchequer of the country. But I will show you something which we both
know, because it is written in words and not in signs. Look here:—
“‘12. On the Abuses practised on the Population by the Regents and the
Inferior Chiefs. On the keeping of different Houses at the Cost of the
Population, etc.’
“Is that clear? You see that Mr. Slotering was certainly a man who knew
how to take the initiative; you could have supported him. Listen:—
“‘15. That many persons of the families and servants of the inland
chiefs appear on the payment lists, who indeed take no part in the
culture; whereby they have advantages to the prejudice of the real
participants. They also get unlawfully into possession of
rice-fields,——which are only due to those persons who have a share in
the culture.’
“Here I have another note written in pencil. Look here, too, we may
read something that is very clear:—
“‘The emigration of the population at Parang-Koodjang can only be
ascribed to the excess of abuses by which the people are victimized.’
“What do you say about that? You see I am not so eccentric as I appear
to be, when I mean to do what is right, and that others shall do the
same!”
“It is true,” said Verbrugge; “Mr. Slotering often spoke to the
Resident about all this.”
“And what was the consequence?”
“The Regent was summoned——and he had an interview with the Resident——”
“Exactly so! and what more?”
“The Regent generally denied all. Then witnesses were called for—nobody
dared to bear witness against the Regent.——Mr. Havelaar, these things
are very difficult!”
The reader, before he has finished the book, will know as well as
Verbrugge why those things were so difficult.
“Mr. Slotering was much offended about this,” continued the Controller;
“he wrote sharp letters to the chiefs——”
“I read them last night,” said Havelaar.
“And I often heard him say that, if there were no change, and if the
Resident would not act with energy, he should apply direct to the
Governor-General. This he also said at the last Council at which he
presided.”
“Then he would have done wrong, for the Resident was his superior, whom
he ought not to pass over, and why should he? It is not, however, to be
supposed that the Resident of Bantam approves of injustice and
arbitrary power?”
“Approve——no; but one does not like to accuse a Regent——?”
“I do not like to accuse any one, whosoever it may be; but where it
must be done, a Regent as well as anybody else. But accusing is still
out of the question, God be praised! To-morrow I shall visit the
Regent. I will show him how bad it is to abuse one’s power—above all,
where the possessions of poor people are concerned. But in expectation
that all will be restored, I will help him in his critical
circumstances as much as I can. You understand now why I made the
tax-gatherer pay that money immediately. I likewise intend to beg the
Government to acquit him of the advance. And to you, Verbrugge, I
propose that we perform our duty punctually, so long as possible with
leniency, but if must be so, fearlessly. You are an honest man, I know,
but you are timid. Say henceforward resolutely how matters
stand——advienne que pourra: throw that vagueness away—and now stay to
dinner with us: we have Dutch cauliflower—but all is quite plain; for I
must be very economical——Come, Max!” And with Max on his shoulder, they
entered the inner gallery, where Tine waited for them at the table,
which, as Havelaar had said, was very simply provided. Duclari, who
came to ask Verbrugge if he meant to be home for dinner, was likewise
invited; and if you would like some variation in my story, you must
read the next chapter, in which I shall tell you something of what was
said at this dinner.