[CONTINUATION OF STERN’S COMPOSITION.]
It was afternoon. Havelaar, coming out of his room, found Tine in the
fore-gallery, waiting for him at the tea-table. Madam Slotering had
just left her house, and seemed to have the intention of going to
Havelaar’s, but suddenly she went to the gate, and there, with very
violent gestures, sent back a man who had just entered. She remained
standing still till she felt sure that he had gone away, and then
returned along the grass-field to Havelaar’s.
“I will know at last what this means,” said Havelaar; and when the
salutation was over he asked, jokingly, that she might not think he
grudged her influence in grounds which formerly were hers:
“Now, Madam, do tell me why you always send back the men who come into
the grounds. What if that man, for instance, had fowls to sell, or any
other kitchen requisite?”
There was in the face of Madam Slotering a painful expression, which
did not escape Havelaar’s observation.
“Ah,” she said, “there are so many bad men.”
“Certainly, that is the case everywhere; but if you are so particular,
the good ones will stay away too.—Come now, Madam, tell me why you keep
such a sharp look-out over the grounds?”
Havelaar looked at her, and endeavoured in vain to read the reply in
her watery eyes. He again pressed for an explanation, and the widow
burst into tears, saying that her husband had been poisoned at
Parang-Koodjang, in the house of the district chief.
“He would do justice, Mr. Havelaar!” continued the poor woman; “he
wished to put an end to the oppression of the people. He exhorted and
threatened the chiefs in councils and in writing; you must have found
his letters in the archives....”
That was the case: Havelaar had read those letters, of which I have
copies before me.
“He spoke repeatedly to the Resident,” continued the widow, “but always
in vain; for as it was generally known that the extortion was for and
under the protection of the Regent, whom the Resident would not
complain of to the Government, all these conversations had no other
effect than the ill treatment of the complainants. Therefore my poor
husband had said that if no alteration should be made before the end of
the year, he would apply direct to the Governor-General. That was in
November. A few days later he made a journey of inspection, took his
dinner at the house of the Demang of Parang-Koodjang, and soon
afterwards was brought home in a pitiable condition. He cried, while
pointing to his stomach, ‘Fire, fire,’ and in a few hours he was dead;
he who had always been remarkable for good health.”
“Did you send for the Serang doctor?” asked Havelaar.
“Yes, but my husband died soon after his arrival. I did not dare to
tell the doctor my suspicion, because I foresaw that I should not be
able soon to leave this place, and I feared revenge. I have heard that
you, like my husband, oppose the abuses which reign here, and therefore
I have not a moment’s peace. I would have concealed all this from you
to avoid frightening you and Madam Havelaar, and so I only watched the
grounds to prevent strangers from entering the kitchen.”
Now it was clear to Tine why Madam Slotering had kept her own
household, and would not even make use of the kitchen, which was so
large. Havelaar sent for the Controller. Meanwhile he sent a request to
the physician at Serang, to make a statement of the symptoms attending
the death of Slotering. The reply which he received the next day to
that request, was not in accordance with the widow’s suspicions.
According to the doctor, Slotering had died of “an abscess in the
liver.” I do not know whether such a disease can manifest itself
suddenly, and cause death in a few hours. I think I must bear in mind
the evidence of Madam Slotering, that her husband had formerly been
always healthy; but if no value is attached to such evidence, because
the notion of what is called health varies with different persons,
particularly in the eyes of non-medical individuals, yet the important
question remains, whether a person who dies to-day of an “abscess in
the liver,” could ride on horseback yesterday, with the intention of
inspecting a mountainous country, which is in some directions eighty
miles in extent?
The doctor who treated Slotering may have been a skilful physician, and
yet have been mistaken in his judgment of the symptoms of the disease,
unprepared as he was to suspect crime. However this may be, I cannot
prove that Havelaar’s predecessor was poisoned, because Havelaar was
not allowed time to clear up the matter; but I can prove that every one
believed in the poisoning, and that this was suspected on account of
his desire to oppose injustice.
The Controller Verbrugge entered Havelaar’s room; the latter asked
abruptly—
“What did Mr. Slotering die of?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was he poisoned?”
“I don’t know; ... but——”
“Speak plainly, Verbrugge.”
“But he endeavoured to oppose the abuses, as you do ... and he would
certainly have been poisoned if he had remained here longer.”
“Write that down!”
Verbrugge wrote it ... it lies before me.
“To proceed, Is it true, or untrue, that much extortion is committed in
Lebak?”
Verbrugge made no reply.
“Answer me, Verbrugge!”
“I dare not.”
“Write down that you dare not.”
Verbrugge wrote it down ... it lies before me.
“Well, to proceed, you dare not answer the last question. You told me
lately, when there was a question about poisoning, that you were the
only support of your sisters at Batavia,—is that the reason of your
fear, of what I always called your halfness?”
“Yes.”
Verbrugge wrote it down ... his declaration lies before me.
“That will do,” said Havelaar, “I know enough.” And Verbrugge left.
Havelaar went out and played with little Max, whom he kissed very
fervently. When Madam Slotering was gone, he sent away the child, and
called in Tine.
“Dear Tine! I have a favour to ask you. I should like you and Max to go
to Batavia:—to-day I accuse the Regent.”
She fell on his neck, for the first time opposed to his wishes, and
cried, sobbing—
“No, Max; no, Max, I will not go ... I will not go; we eat and drink
together.”
Was Havelaar wrong when he made out that she had as little right to
blow her nose as the women at Arles?
He wrote and despatched the letter of which I here present a copy.
After I have given a slight sketch of the circumstances under which
that letter was written, I believe that it is not necessary for me to
show the circumspection which he observed, while not uttering a
syllable of the discovery just made, not to weaken his positive
accusation by the uncertainty of a very important but as yet unproved
accusation. His intention was to exhume the corpse of his predecessor,
and to have it scientifically examined as soon as the Regent should
have been removed, and his party made harmless; but as I have already
said, he was not allowed the opportunity of doing this.
In the copies of official documents—copies which strictly conform with
the originals—I think I may use single pronouns instead of the foolish
titles. I expect that the good taste of my readers will approve of this
change.
“No. 88. { Private.
Immediate. {
“Rankas-Betong, 24th February 1856.
“To the Resident of Bantam.
“Since returning a month ago to my duties here, I have occupied
myself principally in examining how the chiefs discharge their
obligations towards the population as regards statute-labour,
poondootan, [161] and suchlike.
“I very soon discovered that the Regent, on his own responsibility,
and for his advantage, summoned the population to work for him, far
above the legally authorized number of pantjens or kemits. [162]
“I hesitated between the choice of sending at once an official
report and the desire to make this native functionary change his
policy by gentle means, or even afterwards by threats, in order to
attain the double purpose of putting an end to abuse, and at the
same time not acting too severely against this old servant of the
Government, particularly considering the bad examples which, I
believe, have often been set before him; and in connexion with the
peculiar circumstance that he expected a visit from two relations
(the Regents of Bombang and Tjandoer, at least of the latter, who,
as I hear, is already coming with a large train), and he being thus
more than usually in temptation—and with regard to the critical
embarrassment of his pecuniary circumstances, as it were obliged—to
provide by unlawful means the necessary preparations for that
visit.
“All this made me incline to moderation, with regard to what had
already happened, but not at all to indulgence for the future.
“I insisted upon the immediate cessation of every unlawful act.
“I made you acquainted with that previous experiment to induce the
Regent by moderation to do his duty.
“Yet it is evident to me that he casts all to the winds with rude
insolence; and I feel bound to communicate to you in virtue of my
official oath;
“That I accuse the Regent of Lebak, Radeen Adhipatti, Karta Natta
Negara, of abuse of power, by disposing unlawfully of the labour of
his subordinates, and suspect him of extortion while exacting
productions in natura, without payment, or for prices arbitrarily
fixed:
“That I suspect, moreover, the Demang of Parang-Koodjang (the
Regent’s son-in-law) of complicity in the above-mentioned abuses.
“In order conclusively to prove both these charges I take the
liberty of proposing to you to order me—
“1. To send the Regent of Lebak with the utmost speed to Serang,
and to take care that he shall not have occasion, either before his
departure or during the journey, to influence by corruption, or in
any other way, the witnesses. I require,
“2. Previously to take the Demang of Parang-Koodjang into custody.
“3. To apply the same measure to such persons of inferior rank as,
belonging to the family of the Regent, may be expected to mar the
impartiality of the examination to be instituted.
“4. To order that examination to take place immediately, and to
report circumstantially on the issue. I take the liberty of
submitting to your consideration the advisability of countermanding
the visit of the Regent of Tjanjar.
“Finally, I have the honour to give you, as one who knows the
district of Lebak better than it is as yet possible for me to know
it, the assurance that, from a political point of view, the
strictly just treatment of this affair has no difficulty at all,
and that I should be rather apprehensive if it was not cleared up,
for I am informed that the poor man is, as a witness told me,
‘poessing’ (tired, sick, disgusted) of all the vexation he has
suffered, and that he has long sought relief.
“I have partly derived the strength to fulfil my difficult duty in
writing this letter, from the hope that I may be allowed in due
time to bring forward one or two excuses for the old Regent, for
whose position, though caused by his own fault, I nevertheless feel
great compassion.—
The Assistant Resident at Lebak,
(Signed) “Max Havelaar.”
The next day the Resident of Bantam replied?... no, but “Mr. Slymering”
did so, in a private letter.
That reply is a precious contribution to the knowledge of how the
Government is carried on in Dutch India. Mr. Slymering complained “that
Havelaar had not first communicated verbally to him the affair
mentioned in the letter No. 88,”—of course because then there would
have been more chance of “arranging” matters; adding, moreover, that
Havelaar “disturbed him in pressing business!”
The man was surely busy in writing the yearly report on TRANQUIL
TRANQUILITY.... I have that letter before me, and do not trust my eyes.
I read once more the letter of the Assistant Resident of Lebak.... I
compare Havelaar and Slymering. * * * * * *
This Shawlman is a low beggar. You must know, reader, that Bastianus is
again very often absent from the office, because he has gout. Now, as I
cannot reconcile it with my conscience to throw away the funds of the
firm (Last and Co.)—for where principles are concerned, I am
immoveable. I thought the day before yesterday that Shawlman wrote a
good hand, and, as he looked so very poor, that he could therefore
certainly be got for small wages. I therefore thought that it was my
duty to provide in the cheapest manner for the removal of Bastianus. I
went accordingly to Shawlman’s house in the Lange Leidsche Dwarsstraat.
[163] The woman of the shop was at the door, but she seemed not to
recognise me, though I had lately told her that I was Mr. Drystubble,
coffee-broker, of the Laurier Canal. There is always a sort of insult
in such a non-recognition; but as it was now not so cold, and as I wore
last time I was there my coat trimmed with fur, I ascribed it to that,
and think nothing of it—I mean the insult. I said therefore again that
I was Mr. Drystubble, of the Laurier Canal, coffee-broker, and begged
her to go and see if Shawlman was in, because I did not wish, as on the
last occasion, to have to speak to his wife, who is always
discontented. But the woman refused to go up-stairs. “She could not
walk up and down stairs the whole day for that beggarly family,” said
she, “but I could go and look for myself.” And then followed again a
description of the staircase and doors, which I had no need of; for I
always know a place where I have been once, because I pay such
attention to everything. I have got accustomed to that in my business.
So I went up-stairs, and knocked at the well-known door, which opened.
I entered, and as I saw nobody in the room, I looked round. There was
not much to be seen. A child’s trousers with an embroidered stripe hung
over a chair—why need such people wear embroidered trousers?
In a corner stood a not very heavy travelling box, which I lifted up by
the hinge, and on the mantel-piece there were some books, which I
looked at. A curious collection! A couple of volumes of Byron, Horace,
Bastiat, Béranger, and, ... do guess!... a Bible, a complete Bible,
with the Apocrypha. This I had not expected of Shawlman. It appeared
also to have been read, for I found many notes on loose pieces of paper
relating to the Scriptures, all written in the same handwriting as the
pieces in that unwelcome parcel. Above all he seemed to have studied
carefully the Book of Job, for there the leaves bore the marks of it. I
think that he begins to feel the chastisement of the Lord, and will
therefore reconcile himself to God by reading the Holy Scriptures, and
I am not opposed to that. But while waiting, my eye caught sight of a
lady’s work-box which stood on the table. Without thinking about it, I
looked at it: there were in it a pair of half-finished child’s
stockings, a lot of foolish verses, and a letter addressed to
Shawlman’s wife, as could be seen by the inscription. The letter was
open, and it seemed as if it had been rumpled with some anger. Now it
is a firm principle with me never to read anything that is not
addressed to me, because I do not think it respectable. I never do such
a thing when I have no interest in it;—but now I got an inspiration
that it was my duty to read this letter, because the contents would
perhaps further me in the humane intentions that made me go to
Shawlman. I thought about it, how the Lord is always near to those who
believe in Him, as He gave me here quite unexpectedly an opportunity to
know a little more about this man, and protected me too from the danger
of performing an act of charity to an immoral person.
I pay much attention to such directions of the Lord:—this has done me a
great deal of good in business. With much surprise I saw that the wife
of Shawlman belongs to a respectable family; the letter at least was
signed by a relation whose name in Holland is respected, and I was
indeed in ecstasies with the beautiful contents of those lines. It
appeared to be from a person who laboured zealously for the Lord; for
he wrote that the wife of Shawlman ought to be divorced from such a
wretch, who made her suffer poverty,—who could not earn his livelihood,
who was, moreover, a rascal, because he had debts. That the writer of
the letter pitied her condition, though that condition was her own
fault, because she had forsaken the Lord, and stuck to Shawlman;—that
she ought to return to the Lord, and that in that case her family would
all of them assist her, and furnish her with needle-work, but before
all things she ought to put away this Shawlman, who was a disgrace to
the family.
In a word, you could not get in church itself more piety than was to be
found in this letter.
I knew enough, and was grateful to have been warned in such a
miraculous way. Without this warning I should certainly have become a
victim of my own good heart. I resolved, therefore, again to keep
Bastianus till I could find a fitter person to take his place; for I do
not like to turn any one to the streets.
The reader will be curious to know how I got on at the Rosemeyers’ last
party. I was not there,... wonderful things have happened! I had gone
to Driebergen with my wife and Mary. My father-in-law, old Mr. Last,
the son of the first Last (the Meyers were then still in the firm, but
they have left it long ago), said some years ago that he should like to
see my wife and Mary. Now, it was very fine weather, and my fear of the
love-history with which Stern had menaced us, made me think all at once
of this invitation. I spoke of it to our bookkeeper, who is a man of
experience, and who, after mature deliberation, recommended me to sleep
a night on it. This I intended immediately to carry out, for I am quick
in the execution of my decisions. The following day I perceived already
how wise this advice was, for during the night I got the idea that I
could not do better than delay my decision till Friday. In a word,
after having carefully considered all things,—there was much in favour
of the plan, but also much against it,—we went on Saturday afternoon,
and came back on Monday morning. I would not tell you all this, if it
was not in connexion with my book.
First of all I think it necessary that you should know why I do not
protest against the nonsense which Stern certainly brought out last
Sunday. (What nonsense is that about a person who would hear when he
was dead? Mary mentioned it to me: she had heard it from the
Rosemeyers—who trade in sugar;) secondly, because I am now again
convinced that all those stories about misery and trouble in the East
Indies are downright lies. Thus it may be seen how travelling gives a
person the opportunity to penetrate deeply into affairs.
Saturday evening, for instance, my father-in-law had accepted an
invitation from a gentleman, who had been formerly a Resident in the
East Indies, and who lives now at a large country-seat. We went there,
and, indeed, I cannot sufficiently praise the excellent reception we
met with. Our host sent his carriage to fetch us, and the coachman had
on a red waistcoat. Now it was certainly a little too cold to inspect
the country-seat, which must be magnificent in the summer, but in the
house itself there was nothing to desire; for it was replete with
luxury: a billiard-room, a library, a covered iron and glass
conservatory, and a cockatoo on a silver perch. I never saw such a
thing. I made the observation, how good conduct is always rewarded;
that that man had been attentive to his business was evident, for he
had more than three orders of knighthood. He had a beautiful
country-seat, and, moreover, a house in Amsterdam. At the supper all
was truffé, and even the servants who waited at table wore red
waistcoats, like the coachman.
As I take great interest in Indian affairs, because of the coffee, I
began a conversation on the subject, and perceived very soon what I had
to think about it. This Resident told me that he was always very well
off in the East Indies, and that there was, therefore, not a word of
truth in those stories of discontent among the population. I turned the
conversation upon Shawlman. He knew him, and that unfavourably. He said
that the Government had done well in dismissing him, for that this
Shawlman was a very discontented person, who made remarks about
everything, and there was, moreover, much to disapprove in his own
conduct. For instance, he was always running away with girls, and
bringing them home openly before his wife; he did not pay his debts, a
thing which is very unseemly. As I knew so exactly from the letter I
had read how well-founded this accusation was, I was very well pleased
to find that I had judged of all so correctly, and was quite satisfied
with myself. I am also known for this at the Exchange—I mean for always
possessing a sound judgment.
This Resident and his wife were agreeable and kind. They told us much
of their manner of life in the Indies: it must be very pleasant there.
They said that their country-seat near Driebergen was not half so large
as what they called their “grounds,” in the interior of Java, and that
a hundred men were required to keep it in order. But—and this is a
proof how they were liked—all this was done for nothing, and out of
pure attachment. They told us also, that when they went away the sale
of their furniture had produced a large profit, as it fetched ten times
its value; for that the native chiefs were all of them so fond of
buying a keepsake of a Resident. I told this afterwards to Stern, who
maintained that this was done by coercion, and that he could prove it
out of Shawlman’s parcel; but I told him that this Shawlman was a
slanderer,—that he had run away with girls, like that young German at
Busselinck and Waterman’s,—that I did not attach the least value to his
judgment, for that I had now learnt from a Resident himself how matters
stood, and had therefore nothing to learn from Shawlman.
There were still more persons from the Indies, amongst others a very
rich gentleman, who had gained much money on tea, which the Javanese
made him for little money, and which the Government bought from him for
a high price, to encourage the activity of the Javanese. This gentleman
was also very angry with all those discontented persons, who are always
speaking and writing against the Government. He could not say enough in
praise of the government of the Colonies; for he said that he had the
conviction that it lost a great deal in tea, which it bought from him,
and that was therefore very generous in invariably paying such a high
price for an article, intrinsically of little value, which he himself
did not like, for he always drank Chinese tea. He said also, that the
Governor-General, who had prolonged the so-called tea-contracts,
notwithstanding the calculation that the nation lost so much on this,
such a clever, good man was he, and, above all, a good friend of those
who had known him formerly; for that this Governor-General had not paid
the least attention to the talk about losses on the tea, and had done
him therefore a great deal of good by not cancelling those
tea-contracts. “Yes,” he went on, “my heart bleeds, when I perceive
that such noble persons are slandered: if he had not been there, I
should have to walk with my wife and children.” Thereupon he ordered
his carriage, and it looked so magnificent, and the horses were so
beautiful and so fat, that I can understand why he is full of gratitude
to such a Governor-General. It does one’s heart good to behold such
charming emotions, above all when comparing them with that accursed
grumbling and complaining of persons like that Shawlman.
The following day, the Resident and that gentleman for whom the
Javanese make tea, returned our visit.
Both of them at once asked us by what train we thought of going to
Amsterdam. We did not know what this meant, but afterwards it was clear
to us, for when we arrived there on Monday morning, there were two
servants at the station, one with a red waistcoat, and one with a
yellow one, who both at the same time told us that he had received an
order by telegram, to fetch us in a carriage. My wife was confused, and
I thought what would Busselinck and Waterman have said if they had seen
that,——I mean that there were two carriages for us. But it was not easy
to make a choice, for I could not resolve to hurt one of the parties by
refusing such a nice offer. Good advice was dear; but I came victorious
out of this great difficulty. I put my wife and Mary in the red
carriage, the red waistcoat I mean——and I went in the yellow one,——I
mean the carriage.
How those horses tore along! on the Weesper Street where it is always
so dirty, the mud flew as high as the houses, and there I saw the
miserable Shawlman, his back bent, his head bowed down——and I saw how
he tried to wipe the mud off his pale face with the sleeve of his
threadbare coat.