I SPENT three months and a half in Java, from July 18th to October 31st,
1861, and shall briefly describe my own movements, and my observations
of the people and the natural history of the country. To all those who
wish to understand how the Dutch now govern Java, and how it is that
they are enabled to derive a large annual revenue from it, while the
population increases, and the inhabitants are contented, I recommend the
study of Mr. Money's excellent and interesting work, "How to Manage a
Colony." The main facts and conclusions of that work I most heartily
concur in, and I believe that the Dutch system is the very best that
can be adopted, when a European nation conquers or otherwise acquires
possession of a country inhabited by an industrious but semi-barbarous
people. In my account of Northern Celebes, I shall show how successfully
the same system has been applied to a people in a very different state
of civilization from the Javanese; and in the meanwhile will state in
the fewest words possible what that system is.
The mode of government now adopted in Java is to retain the whole series
of native rulers, from the village chief up to princes, who, under the
name of Regents, are the heads of districts about the size of a
small English county. With each Regent is placed a Dutch Resident, or
Assistant Resident, who is considered to be his "elder brother," and
whose "orders" take the form of "recommendations," which are, however,
implicitly obeyed. Along with each Assistant Resident is a Controller,
a kind of inspector of all the lower native rulers, who periodically
visits every village in the district, examines the proceedings of the
native courts, hears complaints against the head-men or other native
chiefs, and superintends the Government plantations. This brings us to
the "culture system," which is the source of all the wealth the Dutch
derive from Java, and is the subject of much abuse in this country
because it is the reverse of "free trade." To understand its uses and
beneficial effects, it is necessary first to sketch the common results
of free European trade with uncivilized peoples.
Natives of tropical climates have few wants, and, when these are
supplied, are disinclined to work for superfluities without some strong
incitement. With such a people the introduction of any new or systematic
cultivation is almost impossible, except by the despotic orders of
chiefs whom they have been accustomed to obey, as children obey their
parents. The free competition of European traders, however introduces
two powerful inducements to exertion. Spirits or opium is a temptation
too strong for most savages to resist, and to obtain these he will sell
whatever he has, and will work to get more. Another temptation he cannot
resist, is goods on credit. The trader offers him gay cloths, knives,
gongs, guns, and gunpowder, to be paid for by some crop perhaps not
yet planted, or some product yet in the forest. He has not sufficient
forethought to take only a moderate quantity, and not enough energy to
work early and late in order to get out of debt; and the consequence is
that he accumulates debt upon debt, and often remains for years, or
for life, a debtor and almost a slave. This is a state of things
which occurs very largely in every part of the world in which men of a
superior race freely trade with men of a lower race. It extends trade
no doubt for a time, but it demoralizes the native, checks true
civilization--and does not lead to any permanent increase in the wealth
of the country; so that the European government of such a country must
be carried on at a loss.
The system introduced by the Dutch was to induce the people, through
their chiefs, to give a portion of their time, to the cultivation of
coffee, sugar, and other valuable products. A fixed rate of wages--low
indeed, but, about equal to that of all places where European
competition has not artificially raised it--was paid to the labourers
engaged in clearing the ground and forming the plantations under
Government superintendence. The produce is sold to the Government at a
low, fixed price. Out of the net profit a percentage goes to the chiefs,
and the remainder is divided among the workmen. This surplus in good
years is something considerable. On the whole, the people are well fed
and decently clothed, and have acquired habits of steady industry and
the art of scientific cultivation, which must be of service to them in
the future. It must be remembered, that the Government expended capital
for years before any return was obtained; and if they now derive a large
revenue, it is in a way which is far less burthensome, and far more
beneficial to the people, than any tax that could be levied.
But although the system may be a good one, and as well adapted to the
development of arts and industry in a half civilized people as it is
to the material advantage of the governing country, it is not pretended
that in practice it is perfectly carried out. The oppressive and servile
relations between chiefs and people, which have continued for perhaps a
thousand years, cannot be at once abolished; and some evil must result
from those relations, until the spread of education and the gradual
infusion of European blood causes it naturally and insensibly to
disappear. It is said that the Residents, desirous of showing a large
increase in the products of their districts, have sometimes pressed the
people to such continued labour on the plantations that their rice crops
have been materially diminished, and famine has been the result. If this
has happened, it is certainly not a common thing, and is to be set down
to the abuse of the system, by the want of judgment, or want of humanity
in the Resident.
A tale has lately been written in Holland, and translated into English,
entitled "Max Havelaar;" or, the "Coffee Auctions of the Dutch Trading
Company," and with our usual one-sidedness in all relating to the Dutch
Colonial System, this work has been excessively praised, both for its
own merits, and for its supposed crushing exposure of the iniquities of
the Dutch government of Java. Greatly to my surprise, I found it a very
tedious and long-winded story, full of rambling digressions; and whose
only point is to show that the Dutch Residents and Assistant Residents
wink at the extortions of the native princes; and that in some districts
the natives have to do work without payment, and have their goods taken
away from them without compensation. Every statement of this kind is
thickly interspersed with italics and capital letters; but as the names
are all fictitious, and neither dates, figures, nor details are
ever given, it is impossible to verify or answer them. Even if not
exaggerated, the facts stated are not nearly so bad as those of the
oppression by free-trade indigo-planters, and torturing by native
tax-gatherers under British rule in India, with which the readers of
English newspapers were familiar a few years ago. Such oppression,
however, is not fairly to be imputed in either case to the particular
form of government, but is rather due to the infirmity of human nature,
and to the impossibility of at once destroying all trace of ages of
despotism on the one side, and of slavish obedience to their chiefs on
the other.
It must be remembered, that the complete establishment of the Dutch
power in Java is much more recent than that of our rule in India, and
that there have been several changes of government, and in the mode of
raising revenue. The inhabitants have been so recently under the rule
of their native princes, that it is not easy at once to destroy the
excessive reverence they feel for their old masters, or to diminish the
oppressive exactions which the latter have always been accustomed to
make. There is, however, one grand test of the prosperity, and even
of the happiness, of a community, which we can apply here--the rate of
increase of the population.
It is universally admitted that when a country increases rapidly in
population, the people cannot be very greatly oppressed or very badly
governed. The present system of raising a revenue by the cultivation of
coffee and sugar, sold to Government at a fixed price, began in 1832.
Just before this, in 1826, the population by census was 5,500,000, while
at the beginning of the century it was estimated at 3,500,000. In 1850,
when the cultivation system had been in operation eighteen years, the
population by census was over 9,500,000, or an increase of 73 per
cent in twenty-four years. At the last census, in 1865, it amounted to
14,168,416, an increase of very nearly 50 per cent in fifteen years--a
rate which would double the population in about twenty-six years. As
Java (with Madura) contains about 38,500 geographical square miles, this
will give an average of 368 persons to the square mile, just double that
of the populous and fertile Bengal Presidency as given in Thornton's
Gazetteer of India, and fully one-third more than that of Great Britain
and Ireland at the last Census. If, as I believe, this vast population
is on the whole contented and happy, the Dutch Government should
consider well before abruptly changing a system which has led to such
great results.
Taking it as a whole, and surveying it from every point of view, Java
is probably the very finest and most interesting tropical island in the
world. It is not first in size, but it is more than 600 miles long, and
from 60 to 120 miles wide, and in area is nearly equal to England; and
it is undoubtedly the most fertile, the most productive, and the most
populous island within the tropics. Its whole surface is magnificently
varied with mountain and forest scenery. It possesses thirty-eight
volcanic mountains, several of which rise to ten or twelve thousand feet
high. Some of these are in constant activity, and one or other of them
displays almost every phenomenon produced by the action of subterranean
fires, except regular lava streams, which never occur in Java. The
abundant moisture and tropical heat of the climate causes these
mountains to be clothed with luxuriant vegetation, often to their very
summits, while forests and plantations cover their lower slopes. The
animal productions, especially the birds and insects, are beautiful
and varied, and present many peculiar forms found nowhere else upon the
globe.
The soil throughout the island is exceedingly fertile, and all the
productions of the tropics, together with many of the temperate zones,
can be easily cultivated. Java too possesses a civilization, a history
and antiquities of its own, of great interest. The Brahminical religion
flourished in it from an epoch of unknown antiquity until about the
year 1478, when that of Mahomet superseded it. The former religion
was accompanied by a civilization which has not been equalled by the
conquerors; for, scattered through the country, especially in the
eastern part of it, are found buried in lofty forests, temples, tombs,
and statues of great beauty and grandeur; and the remains of extensive
cities, where the tiger, the rhinoceros, and the wild bull now roam
undisturbed. A modern civilization of another type is now spreading over
the land. Good roads run through the country from end to end; European
and native rulers work harmoniously together; and life and property are
as well secured as in the best governed states of Europe. I believe,
therefore, that Java may fairly claim to be the finest tropical island
in the world, and equally interesting to the tourist seeking after
new and beautiful scenes; to the naturalist who desires to examine
the variety and beauty of tropical nature; or to the moralist and the
politician who want to solve the problem of how man may be best governed
under new and varied conditions.
The Dutch mail steamer brought me from Ternate to Sourabaya, the chief
town and port in the eastern part of Java, and after a fortnight spent
in packing up and sending off my last collections, I started on a short
journey into the interior. Travelling in Java is very luxurious but very
expensive, the only way being to hire or borrow a carriage, and then pay
half a crown a mile for post-horses, which are changed at regular posts
every six miles, and will carry you at the rate of ten miles an hour
from one end of the island to the other. Bullock carts or coolies are
required to carry all extra baggage. As this kind of travelling would
not suit my means, I determined on making only a short journey to
the district at the foot of Mount Arjuna, where I was told there were
extensive forests, and where I hoped to be able to make some good
collections. The country for many miles behind Sourabaya is perfectly
flat and everywhere cultivated; being a delta or alluvial plain, watered
by many branching streams. Immediately around the town the evident signs
of wealth and of an industrious population were very pleasing; but as
we went on, the constant succession of open fields skirted by rows of
bamboos, with here and there the white buildings and a tall chimney of
a sugar-mill, became monotonous. The roads run in straight lines
for several miles at a stretch, and are bordered by rows of dusty
tamarind-trees. At each mile there are little guardhouses, where a
policeman is stationed; and there is a wooden gong, which by means of
concerted signals may be made to convey information over the country
with great rapidity. About every six or seven miles is the post-house,
where the horses are changed as quickly as were those of the mail in the
old coaching days in England.
I stopped at Modjo-kerto, a small town about forty miles south of
Sourabaya, and the nearest point on the high road to the district
I wished to visit. I had a letter of introduction to Mr. Ball, an
Englishman, long resident in Java and married to a Dutch lady; and he
kindly invited me to stay with him until I could fix on a place to suit
me. A Dutch Assistant Resident as well as a Regent or native Javanese
prince lived here. The town was neat, and had a nice open grassy space
like a village green, on which stood a magnificent fig-tree (allied to
the Banyan of India, but more lofty), under whose shade a kind of market
is continually held, and where the inhabitants meet together to lounge
and chat. The day after my arrival, Mr. Ball drove me over to the
village of Modjo-agong, where he was building a house and premises
for the tobacco trade, which is carried on here by a system of native
cultivation and advance purchase, somewhat similar to the indigo trade
in British India. On our way we stayed to look at a fragment of the
ruins of the ancient city of Modjo-pahit, consisting of two lofty brick
masses, apparently the sides of a gateway. The extreme perfection and
beauty of the brickwork astonished me. The bricks are exceedingly fine
and hard, with sharp angles and true surfaces. They are laid with
great exactness, without visible mortar or cement, yet somehow fastened
together so that the joints are hardly perceptible, and sometimes the
two surfaces coalesce in a most incomprehensible manner.
Such admirable brickwork I have never seen before or since. There was no
sculpture here, but an abundance of bold projections and finely-worked
mouldings. Traces of buildings exist for many miles in every direction,
and almost every road and pathway shows a foundation of brickwork
beneath it--the paved roads of the old city. In the house of the Waidono
or district chief at Modjo-agong, I saw a beautiful figure carved in
high relief out of a block of lava, and which had been found buried in
the ground near the village. On my expressing a wish to obtain some
such specimen, Mr. B. asked the chief for it, and much to my surprise he
immediately gave it me. It represented the Hindu goddess Durga, called
in Java, Lora Jong-grang (the exalted virgin). She has eight arms, and
stands on the back of a kneeling bull. Her lower right hand holds the
tail of the bull, while the corresponding left hand grasps the hair of a
captive, Dewth Mahikusor, the personification of vice, who has attempted
to slay her bull. He has a cord round his waist, and crouches at her
feet in an attitude of supplication. The other hands of the goddess
hold, on her right side, a double hook or small anchor, a broad straight
sword, and a noose of thick cord; on her left, a girdle or armlet of
large beads or shells, an unstrung bow, and a standard or war flag. This
deity was a special favourite among the old Javanese, and her image is
often found in the ruined temples which abound in the eastern part of
the island.
The specimen I had obtained was a small one, about two feet high,
weighing perhaps a hundredweight; and the next day we had it conveyed to
Modjo-Kerto to await my return to Sourabaya. Having decided to stay some
time at Wonosalem, on the lower slopes of the Arjuna Mountain, where
I was informed I should find forest and plenty of game, I had first to
obtain a recommendation from the Assistant Resident to the Regent, and
then an order from the Regent to the Waidono; and when after a week's
delay I arrived with my baggage and men at Modjo-agong, I found them all
in the midst of a five days' feast, to celebrate the circumcision of
the Waidono's younger brother and cousin, and had a small room in an
on outhouse given me to stay in. The courtyard and the great open
reception-shed were full of natives coming and going and making
preparations for a feast which was to take place at midnight, to which I
was invited, but preferred going to bed. A native band, or Gamelang, was
playing almost all the evening, and I had a good opportunity of seeing
the instruments and musicians. The former are chiefly gongs of various
sizes, arranged in sets of from eight to twelve, on low wooden frames.
Each set is played by one performer with one or two drumsticks. There
are also some very large gongs, played singly or in pairs, and taking
the place of our drums and kettledrums. Other instruments are formed by
broad metallic bars, supported on strings stretched across frames; and
others again of strips of bamboo similarly placed and producing
the highest notes. Besides these there were a flute and a curious
two-stringed violin, requiring in all twenty-four performers. There was
a conductor, who led off and regulated the time, and each performer
took his part, coming in occasionally with a few bars so as to form a
harmonious combination. The pieces played were long and complicated,
and some of the players were mere boys, who took their parts with great
precision. The general effect was very pleasing, but, owing to the
similarity of most of the instruments, more like a gigantic musical
box than one of our bands; and in order to enjoy it thoroughly it is
necessary to watch the large number of performers who are engaged in it.
The next morning, while I was waiting for the men and horses who were to
take me and my baggage to my destination, the two lads, who were about
fourteen years old, were brought out, clothed in a sarong from the waist
downwards, and having the whole body covered with yellow powder, and
profusely decked with white blossom in wreaths, necklaces, and armlets,
looking at first sight very like savage brides. They were conducted by
two priests to a bench placed in front of the house in the open air,
and the ceremony of circumcision was then performed before the assembled
crowd.
The road to Wonosalem led through a magnificent forest in the depths of
which we passed a fine ruin of what appeared to have been a royal tomb
or mausoleum. It is formed entirely of stone, and elaborately carved.
Near the base is a course of boldly projecting blocks, sculptured in
high relief, with a series of scenes which are probably incidents in
the life of the defunct. These are all beautifully executed, some of
the figures of animals in particular, being easily recognisable and very
accurate. The general design, as far as the ruined state of the upper
part will permit of its being seen, is very good, effect being given
by an immense number and variety of projecting or retreating courses
of squared stones in place of mouldings. The size of this structure
is about thirty feet square by twenty high, and as the traveller comes
suddenly upon it on a small elevation by the roadside, overshadowed by
gigantic trees, overrun with plants and creepers, and closely backed by
the gloomy forest, he is struck by the solemnity and picturesque beauty
of the scene, and is led to ponder on the strange law of progress, which
looks so like retrogression, and which in so many distant parts of the
world has exterminated or driven out a highly artistic and constructive
race, to make room for one which, as far as we can judge, is very far
its inferior.
Few Englishmen are aware of the number and beauty of the architectural
remains in Java. They have never been popularly illustrated or
described, and it will therefore take most persons by surprise to learn
that they far surpass those of Central America, perhaps even those of
India. To give some idea of these ruins, and perchance to excite
wealthy amateurs to explore them thoroughly and obtain by photography an
accurate record of their beautiful sculptures before it is too late, I
will enumerate the most important, as briefly described in Sir Stamford
Raffles' "History of Java."
BRAMBANAM.--Near the centre of Java, between the native capitals of
Djoko-kerta and Surakerta, is the village of Brambanam, near which are
abundance of ruins, the most important being the temples of Loro-Jongran
and Chandi Sewa. At Loro-Jongran there were twenty separate buildings,
six large and fourteen small temples. They are now a mass of ruins, but
the largest temples are supposed to have been ninety feet high. They
were all constructed of solid stone, everywhere decorated with carvings
and bas-reliefs, and adorned with numbers of statues, many of which
still remain entire. At Chandi Sewa, or the "Thousand Temples," are many
fine colossal figures. Captain Baker, who surveyed these ruins, said he
had never in his life seen "such stupendous and finished specimens of
human labour, and of the science and taste of ages long since forgot,
crowded together in so small a compass as in this spot." They cover a
space of nearly six hundred feet square, and consist of an outer row
of eighty-four small temples, a second row of seventy-six, a third
of sixty-four, a fourth of forty-four, and the fifth forming an inner
parallelogram of twenty-eight, in all two hundred and ninety-six small
temples; disposed in five regular parallelograms. In the centre is
a large cruciform temple surrounded by lofty flights of steps richly
ornamented with sculpture, and containing many apartments. The tropical
vegetation has ruined most of the smaller temples, but some remain
tolerably perfect, from which the effect of the whole may be imagined.
About half a mile off is another temple, called Chandi Kali Bening,
seventy-two feet square and sixty feet high, in very fine preservation,
and covered with sculptures of Hindu mythology surpassing any that exist
in India, other ruins of palaces, halls, and temples, with abundance of
sculptured deities, are found in the same neighbourhood.
BOROBODO.--About eighty miles westward, in the province of Kedu, is the
great temple of Borobodo. It is built upon a small hill, and consists of
a central dome and seven ranges of terraced walls covering the slope
of the hill and forming open galleries each below the other, and
communicating by steps and gateways. The central dome is fifty feet in
diameter; around it is a triple circle of seventy-two towers, and the
whole building is six hundred and twenty feet square, and about
one hundred feet high. In the terrace walls are niches containing
cross-legged figures larger than life to the number of about four
hundred, and both sides of all the terrace walls are covered with
bas-reliefs crowded with figures, and carved in hard stone and which
must therefore occupy an extent of nearly three miles in length! The
amount of human labour and skill expended on the Great Pyramid of Egypt
sinks into insignificance when compared with that required to complete
this sculptured hill-temple in the interior of Java.
GUNONG PRAU.--About forty miles southwest of Samarang, on a mountain
called Gunong Prau, an extensive plateau is covered with ruins. To reach
these temples, four flights of stone steps were made up the mountain
from opposite directions, each flight consisting of more than a thousand
steps. Traces of nearly four hundred temples have been found here, and
many (perhaps all) were decorated with rich and delicate sculptures.
The whole country between this and Brambanam, a distance of sixty miles,
abounds with ruins, so that fine sculptured images may be seen lying in
the ditches, or built into the walls of enclosures.
In the eastern part of Java, at Kediri and in Malang, there are equally
abundant traces of antiquity, but the buildings themselves have been
mostly destroyed. Sculptured figures, however, abound; and the ruins of
forts, palaces, baths, aqueducts, and temples, can be everywhere traced.
It is altogether contrary to the plan of this book to describe what I
have not myself seen; but, having been led to mention them, I felt bound
to do something to call attention to these marvellous works of art. One
is overwhelmed by the contemplation of these innumerable sculptures,
worked with delicacy and artistic feeling in a hard, intractable,
trachytic rock, and all found in one tropical island. What could have
been the state of society, what the amount of population, what the
means of subsistence which rendered such gigantic works possible, will,
perhaps, ever remain a mystery; and it is a wonderful example of the
power of religious ideas in social life, that in the very country where,
five hundred years ago, these grand works were being yearly executed,
the inhabitants now only build rude houses of bamboo and thatch, and
look upon these relics of their forefathers with ignorant amazement,
as the undoubted productions of giants or of demons. It is much to be
regretted that the Dutch Government does not take vigorous steps for
the preservation of these ruins from the destroying agency of tropical
vegetation; and for the collection of the fine sculptures which are
everywhere scattered over the land.
Wonosalem is situated about a thousand feet above the sea, but
unfortunately it is at a distance from the forest, and is surrounded by
coffee plantations, thickets of bamboo, and coarse grasses. It was too
far to walk back daily to the forest, and in other directions I could
find no collecting ground for insects. The place was, however, famous
for peacocks, and my boy soon shot several of these magnificent birds,
whose flesh we found to be tender, white, and delicate, and similar to
that of a turkey. The Java peacock is a different species from that of
India, the neck being covered with scale-like green feathers, and the
crest of a different form; but the eyed train is equally large and
equally beautiful. It is a singular fact in geographical distribution
that the peacock should not be found in Sumatra or Borneo, while the
superb Argus, Fire-backed and Ocellated pheasants of those islands are
equally unknown in Java. Exactly parallel is the fact that in Ceylon
and Southern India, where the peacock abounds, there are none of the
splendid Lophophori and other gorgeous pheasants which inhabit Northern
India. It would seem as if the peacock can admit of no rivals in its
domain. Were these birds rare in their native country, and unknown alive
in Europe, they would assuredly be considered as the true princes of the
feathered tribes, and altogether unrivalled for stateliness and beauty.
As it is, I suppose scarcely anyone if asked to fix upon the most
beautiful bird in the world would name the peacock, any more than the
Papuan savage or the Bugis trader would fix upon the bird of paradise
for the same honour.
Three days after my arrival at Wonosalem, my friend Mr. Ball came to pay
me a visit. He told me that two evenings before, a boy had been killed
and eaten by a tiger close to Modjo-agong. He was riding on a cart drawn
by bullocks, and was coming home about dusk on the main road; and when
not half a mile from the village a tiger sprang upon him, carried him
off into the jungle close by, and devoured him. Next morning his remains
were discovered, consisting only of a few mangled bones. The Waidono had
got together about seven hundred men, and were in chase of the animal,
which, I afterwards heard, they found and killed. They only use spears
when in pursuit of a tiger in this way. They surround a large tract of
country, and draw gradually together until the animal is enclosed in a
compact ring of armed men. When he sees there is no escape he generally
makes a spring, and is received on a dozen spears, and almost instantly
stabbed to death. The skin of an animal thus killed is, of course,
worthless, and in this case the skull, which I had begged Mr. Ball to
secure for me, was hacked to pieces to divide the teeth, which are worn
as charms.
After a week at Wonosalem, I returned to the foot of the mountain, to
a village named Djapannan, which was surrounded by several patches of
forest, and seemed altogether pretty well suited to my pursuits. The
chief of the village had prepared two small bamboo rooms on one side of
his own courtyard to accommodate me, and seemed inclined to assist me
as much as he could. The weather was exceedingly hot and dry, no rain
having fallen for several months, and there was, in consequence, a great
scarcity of insects, and especially of beetles. I therefore devoted
myself chiefly to obtaining a good set of the birds, and succeeded in
making a tolerable collection. All the peacocks we had hitherto shot
had had short or imperfect tails, but I now obtained two magnificent
specimens more than seven feet long, one of which I preserved entire,
while I kept the train only attached to the tail of two or three others.
When this bird is seen feeding on the ground, it appears wonderful
how it can rise into the air with such a long and cumbersome train of
feathers. It does so however with great ease, by running quickly for a
short distance, and then rising obliquely; and will fly over trees of a
considerable height. I also obtained here a specimen of the rare green
jungle-fowl (Gallus furcatus), whose back and neck are beautifully
scaled with bronzy feathers, and whose smooth-edged oval comb is of
a violet purple colour, changing to green at the base. It is also
remarkable in possessing a single large wattle beneath its throat,
brightly coloured in three patches of red, yellow, and blue. The common
jungle-cock (Gallus bankiva) was also obtained here. It is almost
exactly like a common game-cock, but the voice is different, being much
shorter and more abrupt; hence its native name is Bekeko. Six different
kinds of woodpeckers and four kingfishers were found here, the fine
hornbill, Buceros lunatus, more than four feet long, and the pretty
little lorikeet, Loriculus pusillus, scarcely more than as many inches.
One morning, as I was preparing and arranging specimens, I was told
there was to be a trial; and presently four or five men came in and
squatted down on a mat under the audience-shed in the court. The chief
then came in with his clerk, and sat down opposite them. Each spoke
in turn, telling his own tale, and then I found that those who first
entered were the prisoner, accuser, policemen, and witness, and that
the prisoner was indicated solely by having a loose piece of cord twined
around his wrists, but not tied. It was a case of robbery, and after the
evidence was given, and a few questions had been asked by the chief, the
accused said a few words, and then sentence was pronounced, which was
a fine. The parties then got up and walked away together, seeming quite
friendly; and throughout there was nothing in the manner of any one
present indicating passion or ill-feeling--a very good illustration of
the Malayan type of character.
In a month's collecting at Wonosalem and Djapannan I accumulated
ninety-eight species of birds, but a most miserable lot of insects. I
then determined to leave East Java and try the more moist and luxuriant
districts at the western extremity of the island. I returned to
Sourabaya by water, in a roomy boat which brought myself, servants, and
baggage at one-fifth the expense it had cost me to come to Modjo-kerto.
The river has been rendered navigable by being carefully banked up,
but with the usual effect of rendering the adjacent country liable
occasionally to severe floods. An immense traffic passes down this
river; and at a lock we passed through, a mile of laden boats were
waiting two or three deep, which pass through in their turn six at a
time.
A few days afterwards I went by steamer to Batavia, where I stayed about
a week at the chief hotel, while I made arrangements for a trip into
the interior. The business part of the city is near the harbour, but the
hotels and all the residences of the officials and European merchants
are in a suburb two miles off, laid out in wide streets and squares
so as to cover a great extent of ground. This is very inconvenient
for visitors, as the only public conveyances are handsome two-horse
carriages, whose lowest charge is five guilders (8s. 4d.) for half
a day, so that an hour's business in the morning and a visit in the
evening costs 16s. 8d. a day for carriage hire alone.
Batavia agrees very well with Mr. Money's graphic account of it, except
that his "clear canals" were all muddy, and his "smooth gravel drives"
up to the houses were one and all formed of coarse pebbles, very painful
to walk upon, and hardly explained by the fact that in Batavia everybody
drives, as it can hardly be supposed that people never walk in their
gardens. The Hôtel des Indes was very comfortable, each visitor having
a sitting-room and bedroom opening on a verandah, where he can take his
morning coffee and afternoon tea. In the centre of the quadrangle is a
building containing a number of marble baths always ready for use; and
there is an excellent table d'hôte breakfast at ten, and dinner at six,
for all which there is a moderate charge per day.
I went by coach to Buitenzorg, forty miles inland and about a thousand
feet above the sea, celebrated for its delicious climate and its
Botanical Gardens. With the latter I was somewhat disappointed. The
walks were all of loose pebbles, making any lengthened wanderings about
them very tiring and painful under a tropical sun. The gardens are no
doubt wonderfully rich in tropical and especially in Malayan plants, but
there is a great absence of skillful laying-out; there are not enough
men to keep the place thoroughly in order, and the plants themselves
are seldom to be compared for luxuriance and beauty to the same species
grown in our hothouses. This can easily be explained. The plants can
rarely be placed in natural or very favourable conditions. The climate
is either too hot or too cool, too moist or too dry, for a large
proportion of them, and they seldom get the exact quantity of shade
or the right quality of soil to suit them. In our stoves these varied
conditions can be supplied to each individual plant far better than in a
large garden, where the fact that the plants are most of them growing in
or near their native country is supposed to preclude, the necessity of
giving them much individual attention. Still, however, there is much to
admire here. There are avenues of stately palms, and clumps of bamboos
of perhaps fifty different kinds; and an endless variety of tropical
shrubs and trees with strange and beautiful foliage. As a change from
the excessive heat of Batavia, Buitenzorg is a delightful abode. It is
just elevated enough to have deliciously cool evenings and nights, but
not so much as to require any change of clothing; and to a person long
resident in the hotter climate of the plains, the air is always fresh
and pleasant, and admits of walking at almost any hour of the day. The
vicinity is most picturesque and luxuriant, and the great volcano
of Gunung Salak, with its truncated and jagged summit, forms a
characteristic background to many of the landscapes. A great mud
eruption took place in 1699, since which date the mountain has been
entirely inactive.
On leaving Buitenzorg, I had coolies to carry my baggage and a horse
for myself, both to be changed every six or seven miles. The road rose
gradually, and after the first stage the hills closed in a little on
each side, forming a broad valley; and the temperature was so cool and
agreeable, and the country so interesting, that I preferred walking.
Native villages imbedded in fruit trees, and pretty villas inhabited by
planters or retired Dutch officials, gave this district a very pleasing
and civilized aspect; but what most attracted my attention was the
system of terrace-cultivation, which is here universally adopted, and
which is, I should think, hardly equalled in the world. The slopes of
the main valley, and of its branches, were everywhere cut in terraces up
to a considerable height, and when they wound round the recesses of the
hills produced all the effect of magnificent amphitheatres. Hundreds of
square miles of country are thus terraced, and convey a striking idea
of the industry of the people and the antiquity of their civilization.
These terraces are extended year by year as the population increases, by
the inhabitants of each village working in concert under the direction
of their chiefs; and it is perhaps by this system of village culture
alone, that such extensive terracing and irrigation has been rendered
possible. It was probably introduced by the Brahmins from India,
since in those Malay countries where there is no trace of a previous
occupation by a civilized people, the terrace system is unknown. I first
saw this mode of cultivation in Bali and Lombock, and, as I shall have
to describe it in some detail there (see CHAPTER X.), I need say no more
about it in this place, except that, owing to the finer outlines and
greater luxuriance of the country in West Java, it produces there the
most striking and picturesque effect. The lower slopes of the mountains
in Java possess such a delightful climate and luxuriant soil; living is
so cheap and life and property are so secure, that a considerable
number of Europeans who have been engaged in Government service, settle
permanently in the country instead of returning to Europe. They are
scattered everywhere throughout the more accessible parts of the island,
and tend greatly to the gradual improvement of the native population,
and to the continued peace and prosperity of the whole country.
Twenty miles beyond Buitenzorg the post road passes over the Megamendong
Mountain, at an elevation of about 4,500 feet. The country is finely
mountainous, and there is much virgin forest still left upon the hills,
together with some of the oldest coffee-plantations in Java, where the
plants have attained almost the dimensions of forest trees. About 500
feet below the summit level of the pass there is a road-keeper's hut,
half of which I hired for a fortnight, as the country looked promising
for making collections. I almost immediately found that the productions
of West Java were remarkably different from those of the eastern part of
the island; and that all the more remarkable and characteristic Javanese
birds and insects were to be found here. On the very first day, my
hunters obtained for me the elegant yellow and green trogon (Harpactes
Reinwardti), the gorgeous little minivet flycatcher (Pericrocotus
miniatus), which looks like a flame of fire as it flutters among the
bushes, and the rare and curious black and crimson oriole (Analcipus
sanguinolentus), all of these species which are found only in Java, and
even seem to be confined to its western portion.
In a week I obtained no less than twenty-four species of birds, which I
had not found in the east of the island, and in a fortnight this number
increased to forty species, almost all of which are peculiar to the
Javanese fauna. Large and handsome butterflies were also tolerably
abundant. In dark ravines, and occasionally on the roadside, I captured
the superb Papilio arjuna, whose wings seem powdered with grains of
golden green, condensed into bands and moon-shaped spots; while the
elegantly-formed Papilio coön was sometimes to be found fluttering
slowly along the shady pathways (see figure at page 201). One day a boy
brought me a butterfly between his fingers, perfectly unhurt. He had
caught it as it was sitting with wings erect, sucking up the liquid from
a muddy spot by the roadside. Many of the finest tropical butterflies
have this habit, and they are generally so intent upon their meal that
they can be easily be reached and captured. It proved to be the rare and
curious Charaxes kadenii, remarkable for having on each hind wing two
curved tails like a pair of callipers. It was the only specimen I
ever saw, and is still the only representative of its kind in English
collections.
In the east of Java I had suffered from the intense heat and drought of
the dry season, which had been very inimical to insect life. Here I had
got into the other extreme of damp, wet, and cloudy weather, which was
equally unfavourable. During the month which I spent in the interior
of West Java, I never had a really hot fine day throughout. It rained
almost every afternoon, or dense mists came down from the mountains,
which equally stopped collecting, and rendered it most difficult to dry
my specimens, so that I really had no chance of getting a fair sample of
Javanese entomology.
By far the most interesting incident in my visit to Java was a trip to
the summit of the Pangerango and Gedeh mountains; the former an extinct
volcanic cone about 10,000 feet high, the latter an active crater on a
lower portion of the same mountain range. Tchipanas, about four miles
over the Megamendong Pass, is at the foot of the mountain. A small
country house for the Governor-General and a branch of the Botanic
Gardens are situated here, the keeper of which accommodated me with a
bed for a night. There are many beautiful trees and shrubs planted
here, and large quantities of European vegetables are grown for the
Governor-General's table. By the side of a little torrent that bordered
the garden, quantities of orchids were cultivated, attached to the
trunks of trees, or suspended from the branches, forming an interesting
open air orchid-house. As I intended to stay two or three nights on the
mountain, I engaged two coolies to carry my baggage, and with my two
hunters we started early the next morning.
The first mile was over open country, which brought us to the forest
that covers the whole mountain from a height of about 5,000 feet. The
next mile or two was a tolerably steep ascent through a grand virgin
forest, the trees being of great size, and the undergrowth consisting of
fine herbaceous plants, tree-ferns, and shrubby vegetation. I was struck
by the immense number of ferns that grew by the side of the road. Their
variety seemed endless, and I was continually stopping to admire some
new and interesting forms. I could now well understand what I had
been told by the gardener, that 300 species had been found on this
one mountain. A little before noon we reached the small plateau of
Tjiburong, at the foot of the steeper part of the mountain, where there
is a plank-house for the accommodation of travellers. Close by is a
picturesque waterfall and a curious cavern, which I had not time to
explore. Continuing our ascent the road became narrow, rugged and steep,
winding zigzag up the cone, which is covered with irregular masses of
rock, and overgrown with a dense luxuriant but less lofty vegetation.
We passed a torrent of water which is not much lower than the boiling
point, and has a most singular appearance as it foams over its rugged
bed, sending up clouds of steam, and often concealed by the overhanging
herbage of ferns and lycopodia, which here thrive with more luxuriance
than elsewhere.
At about 7,500 feet we came to another hut of open bamboos, at a place
called Kandang Badak, or "Rhinoceros-field," which we were going to
make our temporary abode. Here was a small clearing, with abundance of
tree-ferns and some young plantations of Cinchona. As there was now a
thick mist and drizzling rain, I did not attempt to go on to the summit
that evening, but made two visits to it during my stay, as well as
one to the active crater of Gedeh. This is a vast semicircular chasm,
bounded by black perpendicular walls of rock, and surrounded by miles
of rugged scoria-covered slopes. The crater itself is not very deep. It
exhibits patches of sulphur and variously-coloured volcanic products,
and emits from several vents continual streams of smoke and vapour. The
extinct cone of Pangerango was to me more interesting. The summit is
an irregular undulating plain with a low bordering ridge, and one deep
lateral chasm. Unfortunately, there was perpetual mist and rain either
above or below us all the time I was on the mountain; so that I never
once saw the plain below, or had a glimpse of the magnificent view which
in fine weather is to be obtained from its summit. Notwithstanding this
drawback I enjoyed the excursion exceedingly, for it was the first
time I had been high enough on a mountain near the Equator to watch the
change from a tropical to a temperate flora. I will now briefly sketch
these changes as I observed them in Java.
On ascending the mountain, we first meet with temperate forms of
herbaceous plants, so low as 3,000 feet, where strawberries and violets
begin to grow, but the former are tasteless, and the latter have very
small and pale flowers. Weedy composites also begin to give a European
aspect to the wayside herbage. It is between 2,000 and 5,000 feet that
the forests and ravines exhibit the utmost development of tropical
luxuriance and beauty. The abundance of noble Tree-ferns, sometimes
fifty feet high, contributes greatly to the general effect, since of all
the forms of tropical vegetation they are certainly the most striking
and beautiful. Some of the deep ravines which have been cleared of large
timber are full of them from top to bottom; and where the road crosses
one of these valleys, the view of their feathery crowns, in varied
positions above and below the eye, offers a spectacle of picturesque
beauty never to be forgotten. The splendid foliage of the broad-leaved
Musaceae and Zingiberaceae, with their curious and brilliant flowers;
and the elegant and varied forms of plants allied to Begonia and
Melastoma, continually attract the attention in this region. Filling in
the spaces between the trees and larger plants, on every trunk and stump
and branch, are hosts of Orchids, Ferns and Lycopods, which wave and
hang and intertwine in ever-varying complexity. At about 5,000 feet I
first saw horsetails (Equisetum), very like our own species. At 6,000
feet, raspberries abound, and thence to the summit of the mountain there
are three species of eatable Rubus. At 7,000 feet Cypresses appear, and
the forest trees become reduced in size, and more covered with mosses
and lichens. From this point upward these rapidly increase, so that the
blocks of rock and scoria that form the mountain slope are completely
hidden in a mossy vegetation. At about 5,000 feet European forms of
plants become abundant. Several species of Honeysuckle, St. John's-wort,
and Guelder-rose abound, and at about 9,000 feet we first meet with the
rare and beautiful Royal Cowslip (Primula imperialis), which is said to
be found nowhere else in the world but on this solitary mountain summit.
It has a tall, stout stem, sometimes more than three feet high, the
root leaves are eighteen inches long, and it bears several whorls of
cowslip-like flowers, instead of a terminal cluster only. The forest
trees, gnarled and dwarfed to the dimensions of bushes, reach up to the
very rim of the old crater, but do not extend over the hollow on its
summit. Here we find a good deal of open ground, with thickets of
shrubby Artemisias and Gnaphaliums, like our southernwood and cudweed,
but six or eight feet high; while Buttercups, Violets, Whortleberries,
Sow-thistles, Chickweed, white and yellow Cruciferae, Plantain, and
annual grasses everywhere abound. Where there are bushes and shrubs,
the St. John's-wort and Honeysuckle grow abundantly, while the Imperial
Cowslip only exhibits its elegant blossoms under the damp shade of the
thickets.
Mr. Motley, who visited the mountain in the dry season, and paid much
attention to botany, gives the following list of genera of European
plants found on or near the summit:-- Two species of Violet, three of
Ranunculus, three of Impatiens, eight or ten of Rubus, and species of
Primula, Hypericum, Swertia, Convallaria (Lily of the Valley), Vaccinium
(Cranberry), Rhododendron, Gnaphalium, Polygonum, Digitalis (Foxglove),
Lonicera (Honeysuckle), Plantago (Rib-grass), Artemisia (Wormwood),
Lobelia, Oxalis (Wood-sorrel), Quercus (Oak), and Taxus (Yew). A few of
the smaller plants (Plantago major and lanceolata, Sonchus oleraceus,
and Artemisia vulgaris) are identical with European species.
The fact of a vegetation so closely allied to that of Europe occurring
on isolated mountain peaks, in an island south of the Equator, while all
the lowlands for thousands of miles around are occupied by a flora of
a totally different character, is very extraordinary; and has only
recently received an intelligible explanation. The Peak of Teneriffe,
which rises to a greater height and is much nearer to Europe, contains
no such Alpine flora; neither do the mountains of Bourbon and
Mauritius. The case of the volcanic peaks of Java is therefore somewhat
exceptional, but there are several analogous, if not exactly parallel
cases, that will enable us better to understand in what way the
phenomena may possibly have been brought about.
The higher peaks of the Alps, and even of the Pyrenees, contain a number
of plants absolutely identical with those of Lapland, but nowhere found
in the intervening plains. On the summit of the White Mountains, in
the United States, every plant is identical with species growing in
Labrador. In these cases all ordinary means of transport fail. Most of
the plants have heavy seeds, which could not possibly be carried such
immense distances by the wind; and the agency of birds in so effectually
stocking these Alpine heights is equally out of the question. The
difficulty was so great, that some naturalists were driven to believe
that these species were all separately created twice over on these
distant peaks. The determination of a recent glacial epoch, however,
soon offered a much more satisfactory solution, and one that is now
universally accepted by men of science. At this period, when the
mountains of Wales were full of glaciers, and the mountainous parts
of Central Europe, and much of America north of the great lakes, were
covered with snow and ice, and had a climate resembling that of Labrador
and Greenland at the present day, an Arctic flora covered all these
regions. As this epoch of cold passed away, and the snowy mantle of the
country, with the glaciers that descended from every mountain summit,
receded up their slopes and towards the north pole, the plants receded
also, always clinging as now to the margins of the perpetual snow line.
Thus it is that the same species are now found on the summits of the
mountains of temperate Europe and America, and in the barren north-polar
regions.
But there is another set of facts, which help us on another step towards
the case of the Javanese mountain flora. On the higher slopes of
the Himalayas, on the tops of the mountains of Central India and of
Abyssinia, a number of plants occur which, though not identical with
those of European mountains, belong to the same genera, and are said by
botanists to represent them; and most of these could not exist in the
warm intervening plains. Mr. Darwin believes that this class of facts
can be explained in the same way; for, during the greatest severity of
the glacial epoch, temperate forms of plants will have extended to the
confines of the tropics, and on its departure, will have retreated up
these southern mountains, as well as northward to the plains and hills
of Europe. But in this case, the time elapsed, and the great change of
conditions, have allowed many of these plants to become so modified that
we now consider them to be distinct species. A variety of other facts
of a similar nature have led him to believe that the depression of
temperature was at one time sufficient to allow a few north-temperate
plants to cross the Equator (by the most elevated routes) and to reach
the Antarctic regions, where they are now found. The evidence on which
this belief rests will be found in the latter part of CHAPTER II. of the
"Origin of Species"; and, accepting it for the present as an hypothesis,
it enables us to account for the presence of a flora of European type on
the volcanoes of Java.
It will, however, naturally be objected that there is a wide expanse
of sea between Java and the continent, which would have effectually
prevented the immigration of temperate forms of plants during the
glacial epoch. This would undoubtedly be a fatal objection, were there
not abundant evidence to show that Java has been formerly connected with
Asia, and that the union must have occurred at about the epoch required.
The most striking proof of such a junction is, that the great Mammalia
of Java, the rhinoceros, the tiger, and the Banteng or wild ox, occur
also in Siam and Burmah, and these would certainly not have been
introduced by man. The Javanese peacock and several other birds are
also common to these two countries; but, in the majority of cases,
the species are distinct, though closely allied, indicating that a
considerable time (required for such modification) has elapsed since the
separation, while it has not been so long as to cause an entire change.
Now this exactly corresponds with the time we should require since the
temperate forms of plants entered Java. These are now almost distinct
species, but the changed conditions under which they are now forced to
exist, and the probability of some of them having since died out on the
continent of India, sufficiently accounts for the Javanese species being
different.
In my more special pursuits, I had very little success upon the
mountain--owing, perhaps, to the excessively unpropitious weather and
the shortness of my stay. At from 7,000 to 8,000 feet elevation, I
obtained one of the most lovely of the small Fruit pigeons (Ptilonopus
roseicollis), whose entire head and neck are of an exquisite rosy pink
colour, contrasting finely with its otherwise green plumage; and on the
very summit, feeding on the ground among the strawberries that have
been planted there, I obtained a dull-coloured thrush, with the form
and habits of a starling (Turdus fumidus). Insects were almost entirely
absent, owing no doubt to the extreme dampness, and I did not get a
single butterfly the whole trip; yet I feel sure that, during the
dry season, a week's residence on this mountain would well repay the
collector in every department of natural history.
After my return to Toego, I endeavoured to find another locality to
collect in, and removed to a coffee-plantation some miles to the north,
and tried in succession higher and lower stations on the mountain; but,
I never succeeded in obtaining insects in any abundance and birds were
far less plentiful than on the Megamendong Mountain. The weather now
became more rainy than ever, and as the wet season seemed to have set
in in earnest, I returned to Batavia, packed up and sent off my
collections, and left by steamer on November 1st for Banca and Sumatra.