IN THE PANDOPPO OF THE REGENT.
The day which followed the opium experiment described in the last
chapter, promised to be an interesting one to the inhabitants of
Santjoemeh. On that day, Setrosmito, the father of baboe Dalima,
who had for months been lying in gaol on a charge of having murdered
a Chinese bandoelan in the execution of his duty, and who had been
accused also of opium-smuggling, was to be brought to trial.
The evidence had already been taken, and the witnesses on both sides
had been examined. The prisoner confessed that he had, with his kris,
taken the Chinaman's life; but he stoutly denied that he had been
guilty of smuggling. All Santjoemeh had turned out, that is to say,
the whole European population; for it was known that August van
Beneden would conduct the defence. As our readers know, the young
lawyer had already appeared as counsel for baboe Dalima; but at her
trial he had merely watched the proceedings in behalf of his client,
and had no opportunity of showing his powers as an advocate. Thus the
speech he was expected to deliver in defence of Setrosmito, might be
looked upon as virtually his maiden-speech.
In social circles, however, and on several minor occasions, August van
Beneden had given evidence of much ability and considerable readiness
of speech, and thus the good people of Santjoemeh were looking forward
to the coming trial as to a rare intellectual treat.
But that was by no means all. It was further rumoured that the
unfortunate bandoelan had lost his life in consequence of his
misconduct towards the little daughter of the prisoner. Now, the
public at Santjoemeh knew pretty well what excesses the bandoelans
used frequently to permit themselves to take in these domiciliary
visits for opium; and thus expected that some spicy details would
be forthcoming at the trial. It was, moreover, confidently expected
that in his devotion to Themis, the young lawyer would lay his finger
heavily upon the crying abuses of the infamous opium traffic, that
plague-spot of Javanese society and that disgrace to the European
conquerors of the island.
No wonder, therefore, that long before the time appointed for the
trial, the pandoppo of the Regent's house in which the court was
to sit, was crowded to its utmost capacity. Even ladies appeared
in the audience, and foremost among these was fair Laurentia van
Gulpendam. As a rule, no ladies ever appear at these native trials;
but, on this occasion, the full-flavoured particulars which were sure
to be revealed, might perhaps account for their presence.
At all events, the numerous staff of servants looked on in amazement at
this unusual concourse; for generally the public is, on such occasions,
conspicuous only by its absence. These attendants found it as much as
they could do to provide seats for all the company, and though there
always is an abundant supply of chairs in every Regent's house, yet on
this occasion, a sufficient number of seats could hardly be mustered.
Had it been evening, and had the numerous lamps which swung from the
roof of the pandoppo been alight, one might have imagined oneself
at some festive gathering, or rather, one might have thought, that
an exhibition of juggling or other such-like entertainment was about
to take place; for, at one extremity of the spacious hall, there was
a raised platform three steps above the level of the floor. On this
stage was seen a long table covered with a green baize cloth on which
were displayed a thick book and a number of 'pièces de conviction;'
and at which several chairs were placed in order. A police oppasser,
who, judging from his demeanour, was fully aware of the importance
of his office, was mounting guard at the table, evidently posted
there to keep the profane vulgar at a respectful distance. Had any
unruly spirit attempted to approach, he would no doubt, with a noble
flourish, have dragged the rusty bit of iron which he wore by his
side from its scabbard.
Pending the entrance of the judges, the crowd tried to pass the time
as agreeably as it could. Greetings were exchanged, jokes circulated
freely, the people laughed and chatted, and, in fact, behaved, in that
temple of Justice, precisely as they might have done at a music-hall
during the interval.
"Good morning, Mrs. van Gulpendam, do you intend to be present at
our session?"
The speaker was Mr. Thomasz, deputy clerk of the court. He had
strolled in en amateur to have a look at the proceedings; for the
chief clerk himself was on that day to officiate, and Thomasz meant
to make the best of the opportunity thus offered him of paying his
court to fair Laurentia.
"Good morning," replied the Resident's wife as she held out her
hand. "Yes, I have come to have a look. I never have been present
at one of these trials, and am rather curious to see what they are
like. This case will be an interesting one, I think?"
"I think it will, madam," replied Thomasz; "but for my part, I consider
the examination of the witnesses much more entertaining."
"I daresay," said Laurentia; "but--that horrid murderer--they are
sure to find him guilty, are they not?"
"I am not so sure of that, madam."
"You are not? Why not?"
"No, indeed, I am not. The head djaksa has indeed got up a splendid
case for the prosecution, there is not a loop-hole in it; but ever
since our Residents and Assistant-Residents have ceased to preside,
and the duty has devolved upon professional lawyers, we seem to be be
under the influence of a kind of morbid philanthropy--and, it would
not at all surprise me if the scoundrel got clean off, especially--"
"Ah yes," exclaimed Laurentia, "I know what you would say: especially
since a European has undertaken the defence of that Javanese
scoundrel. It is perfectly unheard-of--monstrous! But, tell me,
who pays that counsel, do you know, Mr. Thomasz?"
"Hush! madam, that's a secret."
"A secret!" cried Laurentia, "you must keep no secrets from the wife
of your Resident. You seem to know all about it. Come tell me what
you know."
"Let us go on the platform then," said Thomasz with a faint smile,
"no one will be able to overhear us up there."
They walked up the steps, went to the table, and made a pretence
of examining the objects displayed upon it. The policeman on guard,
of course, took good care not to interfere with the njonja Resident
and the assistant registrar of the court.
"Now then," said Laurentia in an undertone, "you may speak out. Who
pays that lawyer?"
"A company, madam," was the reply.
"A company! What? of Chinamen?" cried Laurentia impatiently.
"I did not say so, madam," replied the deputy clerk with a smile and
a slight bow.
"What company then?"
"Of Europeans, madam."
"Oh ho! you know them. You need not deny it; I see it in your face."
"Hush, madam," whispered Thomasz, "there are a couple of ladies coming
near," and then aloud he added: "Yes this is the very kris with which
the deed was done--you see the wavy blade is stained with blood--that
black spot--"
Mrs. van Gulpendam seized the weapon.
"Give me their names," she whispered as she stooped forward over the
table to take it up.
"I know but one of them--van Nerekool."
"Van Nerekool--still that van Nerekool," hissed the fair woman between
her clenched teeth. And then, turning to the pandoppo, she said to
one of the ladies who had by this time mounted the platform:
"Look here, Henriette, just look here--this is the kris with which
the murder was committed." The policeman in charge of the table
seemed inclined to step forward to forbid the others to approach;
but a haughty look from Laurentia restrained him.
"Is that really the kris?" asked Henriette.
"Yes," exclaimed Laurentia, "look, you! that's how it was done--slash
across the throat!" She accompanied these words with a sweep of the
formidable weapon which made both the ladies start back in terror.
"A magnificent woman that Laurentia!" said a young man in the body
of the hall. "Just look at her attitude, look at her features, look
at that hand as she grasps the dagger! What a lady Macbeth! what a
perfect instep!"
"Aye, aye," quoth another, "she is posing, she knows--she feels--that
we are admiring her."
"What are you frightened at?" continued Mrs. van Gulpendam, "see here,
that spot is the blood of the victim, is it not, Mr. Thomasz?"
"Disgusting!" cried both ladies in a breath.
"How can you touch it, my dear madam?"
"Touch it? why not?" scornfully replied Laurentia as she flung
back the kris rattling upon the table. "Why not touch it? the thing
doesn't bite."
"Of course not, my dear," said Henriette; "but the mere thought that
it has murdered a man!"
"Pooh! a Chinaman!" cried Laurentia.
"But a Chinaman is a human being," objected her friend.
"I suppose so," was Laurentia's disdainful reply.
"It is well that Lim Yang Bing or Lim Ho are not by to hear you,"
said Thomasz forcing a laugh.
"Oh that is a different matter altogether," said the arrogant woman.
"They are opium-farmers," cried Henriette.
"They are millionaires!" added her friend.
The two ladies uttered these exclamations almost simultaneously, with
an indescribable tone of sarcasm peculiar to their sex. Laurentia
fully understood the taunt and felt it too; but she gave no sign
of displeasure.
"Ah yes," continued Henriette following up her pleasant little
home-thrust. "Now you mention their names, what has become of the
two Chinamen. I don't see them. Yonder is the Chinese captain and Kam
Tjeng Bie the wealthy merchant; but I can't see the two opium-farmers."
"They will take good care," added the other lady, "not to show their
noses here."
"I daresay," carelessly remarked Laurentia, "that they find plenty
to do getting ready for the wedding."
"Is not the murderer," asked Henriette, "the father of baboe Dalima
who accused Lim Ho of--?"
"My dear Henriette," hastily interposed Mrs. van Gulpendam, "that
is the merest tattle--in our gossiping Santjoemeh you ought not to
believe one tenth part of what you hear."
"But," continued she rather hurriedly as if anxious to change the
subject, "but, Mr. Thomasz, what kind of gollokh is that yonder on the
table--that looks as if it were blood-stained too--did the murderer
use that thing also?"
"Oh no, madam," replied the assistant-clerk, "that is nothing but
chicken's blood."
"Chicken's blood?" inquired Henriette with a laugh.
"Yes, dear madam, we call that the gollokh soempah."
"Indeed, and what may that mean?"
"We might translate it by the 'oath-knife,'" replied Thomasz; "it is,
in fact, with that instrument that the Chinese take an oath."
"That's interesting! did you ever see it done, Mr. Thomasz?"
"Oh yes, madam, very frequently."
"Do tell us all about it," cried Henriette, "how is it done?"
"It is as simple a ceremony as possible, ladies. The witness who
is about to be sworn, accompanied by a Chinese interpreter, and one
of the members of the court, walks up to a block of wood. Then the
gollokh is placed into his hand and with it he chops off the head
of a black chicken. Nothing more, and nothing less. It is an utterly
meaningless performance, and, at first sight, it is simply ludicrous."
"But why must the chicken be black, Mr. Thomasz?" asked Henriette.
"That is more than I can tell you, madam," replied he. "You are aware,
I suppose, that white is the mourning colour in China."
"Oh, yes, I know that; but--a black chicken? There must be some hidden
meaning in that," mused Henriette.
"There may be, madam," replied Thomasz; "but I have never been able
to discover any, though I have frequently asked interpreters and
even Chinese chiefs about it. There exists, however," he continued,
"in China another manner of taking an oath, the significance of which
is, perhaps, more obvious. But it is used only on special and very
important occasions."
"Can there be any question of greater moment," asked Henriette,
somewhat sharply, "than that of speaking the truth before a judge?"
"Certainly there may be, madam," was the reply.
"More important do you mean to tell me, than of giving solemn testimony
upon which may depend perhaps the life or death of a human being?"
"Undoubtedly, madam," said Thomasz.
"Well!" cried Henriette, "I should like to know what questions those
may be!"
"To give you only one instance," replied Thomasz, "the great oath,
the solemn oath which the Government requires to be taken when a man
is made a Chinese officer."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Henriette with a laugh, "do you call that so very
serious a matter?"
"And then," continued the assistant clerk, "on certain occasions,
though rarely, the great oath is administered in civil cases, where
the interests involved are very considerable."
"Ah, now I understand you! When it is a question of £ s. d.," laughed
Henriette; "but, pray, tell us something about that great oath."
"With pleasure, madam, only I am afraid I do not know very much
about it. The rites observed on such occasions are borrowed from the
ceremony with which the oath is administered in China to princes and
high state officials on their appointment. I will, in as few words as
possible, try to describe to you what takes place. The witness first
writes down the evidence he intends to give or the promise he intends
to make, on a strip of red paper, and then he confirms the truth
of his words by calling down upon himself the most fearful curses
should his evidence prove untrue, or should he fail to carry out
his engagement. This strip of red paper the witness next carries to
the temple, and solemnly spreads it out upon the table of offerings,
between a number of burning candles, some bottles of wine and some
confectionery, which are destined to be gifts or offerings to the
idol. While this is going on the priests are screeching forth a
form of prayer, at certain passages of which a bell is violently
rung. Thereupon the witness, in a loud voice, reads out what he has
written on the paper, the priests the while burning incense. Finally,
the red paper is held to the flame of one of the candles, and,
having been thrown down on the table, is allowed to burn until it
is reduced to ashes. This concludes the ceremony. I know, ladies,
my description is most imperfect; but I hope that I have succeeded
in giving you some notion of this very curious solemnity."
"Much obliged to you, Mr. Thomasz," said Laurentia, holding out
her hand to him as, with haughty glance, she surveyed the company
assembled in the pandoppo.
"I wonder whom she is looking for?" whispered one of the young men
in the body of the hall.
"Not for me I fear," sighed another, "perhaps--"
"The gentlemen of the court!" bawled a police oppasser, much in the
tone of a French huissier when he shouts, "La cour, messieurs!"
The name of the individual who was supposed to be the object of
Laurentia's solicitude remained unspoken.
Just then, out of one of the side buildings which could be seen
from the pandoppo through the intervals between the blinds, there
appeared two European gentlemen, two Javanese chiefs and two Chinese
officers. These formed a kind of procession and slowly marched towards
the pandoppo. Having entered the hall they ascended the platform,
and took their seats at the table, on the chairs placed ready for them.
At the head of the procession walked Mr. Greveland, the successor
of Mr. Zuidhoorn and president of the court. After him, came Radhen
Mas Toemenggoeng Pringgoe Kesoemo, regent of Santjoemeh; Radhen
Pandjie Merto Winoto the patih, and babah Tang Ing Gwam the Chinese
major--these three were members of the native Council. Then followed
Mas Wirio Kesoemo the head djaksa, and behind him came the clerk of
the court, while Hadjie Moehammad Kassan, the panghoeloe or native
priest, closed the procession.
The president was in his judicial robes of office, while the clerk
of the court appeared in black frock-coat and white trousers. The
Javanese members wore, of course, the national costume, which consisted
of a short jacket with stiff gold-embroidered collar over a similarly
embroidered vest, with the finely stitched sarong wrapped in neat and
narrow plaits round the waist. On their heads they wore the ordinary
scarf; but in addition to this they also wore the kopja, an ugly and
shapeless head-gear, looking like a bit of stove-pipe ornamented with
narrow gold lace.
The Chinese major was in full Mandarin's dress, the most conspicuous
part of his attire being a kind of tabard of light blue cloth,
on which, in front and behind, were richly embroidered in gold a
pair of monstrous dragons. His head was covered with a stiff cap of
light blue cloth. This cap had a somewhat high crown, on the top of
which, surmounting a little tuft or tassel, shone a large blue gem
of extraordinary lustre.
The panghoeloe was clad in a sombre-looking cassock reaching down to
his heels. He was remarkable chiefly by a turban of prodigious size,
which, by its magnitude and colour, proclaimed that the man had visited
the tomb of the prophet and was therefore a Hadjie or pilgrim. In
his hand he held a book which looked much worn and soiled. This was
the sacred book--the Koran.
On the steps leading to the platform were seated several Javanese
youths dressed in the national costume but without the kopja. These
were the mantries, generally young men of good family, and even of
noble birth, who were present to listen to the proceedings, and thus
to qualify themselves for future appointments. They sat on the steps
with their legs crossed before them, and each had on his knees a
writing tablet, on which he was prepared to jot down whatever remarks
he might consider valuable enough to be thus rescued from oblivion.
Mr. Greveland took the chair at the middle of the oblong table. On
his right hand sat the regent and on his left the clerk of the
court. Next to the regent sat the djaksa and on his right again sat
the panghoeloe. The clerk of the court had on his left the patih,
and after him came the Chinese major. All these places were allotted
to their several occupants, in accordance with the rules of the
strictest etiquette, to which Eastern nations always attach the
utmost importance.
Just after the president had taken his seat, August van Beneden
made his appearance in his barrister's gown; and, by the chairman's
direction, sat down at the end of the table by the side of the
Chinese major. At that moment the pandoppo of the regent's house
offered an interesting and most curious spectacle. It was a wide
roomy shed the lofty roof of which was supported by eight pillars,
and completely open on all sides. In order to temper the glare of the
sunlight, and also to exclude the prying looks of the public outside,
the spaces between the pillars were hung with green kreés or mats,
while the members of the court had the further protection of a canvas
screen stretched behind them. Behind the judges some Javanese servants
were squatting. These men bore the pajoengs of the Javanese chiefs,
and though these umbrellas were closed, yet their bearers held them
aloft in such a manner that they could plainly be seen behind the backs
of their masters. As the native court was then sitting; and taken as
typical of the entire judicial system as regards the native inhabitants
of the island of Java, it presented a strange combination of those
three leading principles which the Dutch Government has, sometimes
in greater sometimes in lesser degree, but always very cleverly,
managed to unite. First there was the European law represented by
the person of the President; in the next place the native usage was
respected which demands that both the judges shall be Javanese chiefs
or nobles of the highest rank; and in the third place there was the
Mohammedan law represented by the panghoeloe whose office it was to
enforce due respect for the injunctions of the Koran.
Between the platform and the first row of chairs there was a
considerable open space which, however, was not protected by any
kind of railing. To the right and left of the platform stood a pair
of native police oppassers in their bright yellow uniform and with
side-arms dangling from bright yellow belts. The poor fellows cut a
sorry figure as they stood there, they were quite taken aback at the
sight of so large a crowd.
Fair Laurentia had taken her seat on the middle chair of the first
row. As njonja Resident this place of honour belonged to her, and
by her side she had placed two of her most intimate friends. Close
around these clustered the most fashionable and important inhabitants
of Santjoemeh, or such as considered themselves the most important;
and behind these again came the miscellaneous crowd which filled the
pandoppo from end to end. The conversation, however, now that the
judges had entered, was carried on in whispers or in a low undertone.
Edward van Rheijn, Charles van Nerekool and Leendert Grashuis,
we hardly need say, were present in the third or fourth row of
chairs among a number of their young friends and acquaintances--the
jeunesse dorée of Santjoemeh. Thus they had an excellent view of
the proceedings.
"Look at that Thomasz," said van Rheijn, "what an ass the fellow is
making of himself with Laurentia!"
"Yes, yes," quoth Grashuis, "he is making hay while the sun shines."
"I don't know so much about that," remarked one of the young men
present, "it seems to me that just now he is pretty well at home at
the Residence."
"There are very queer rumours afloat about him," whispered another.
"Rumours!" said van Rheijn testily, "why, in Santjoemeh, the air
is always full of rumours. What would Santjoemeh be without its
chronique scandaleuse?"
"If people will behave themselves in that way!"
"Yes, and if appearances are all against them!"
"Indeed," said van Rheijn tartly, "am I to suppose that, where a
woman's good name is concerned, you would go by appearances?"
"They say that M`Bok Kârijâh has been employed."
"Oh! if that filthy hag has a finger in the pie, then--"
"They say!" exclaimed van Rheijn contemptuously, "they say!--and pray
who are they?"
"Well--everybody--"
"At all events I am not one of them," replied van Rheijn.
"No more am I," added Grashuis.
"Hush," whispered van Rheijn, "I am sure Laurentia can hear all we say;
just look how she pricks her ears."
"How very dignified van Beneden looks in his gown," said Grashuis
anxious to change the subject and slightly raising his voice.
"I don't see it," returned van Rheijn; "he looks for all the world
like an umbrella in its case."
At that moment fair Laurentia turned and cast her eye over the group
of young gentlemen seated behind her. They all greeted and bowed. Van
Rheijn, however, had a gracious smile all to himself--it might have
been perhaps in acknowledgment of his comparison of van Beneden with
the umbrella.
"Oh, you sly fox," whispered one with a nudge, "that is why you took
me up so sharply just now? eh?"
"Do shut up!" said van Rheijn, "I wonder you are not ashamed of
yourself for talking such nonsense!"
"Have you received an invitation yet?" asked Grashuis, wishing to
turn the conversation into another channel.
"What invitation?"
"To Lim Ho's wedding party."
"Yes, I got one the other day," said one.
"And so have I," said another.
"That is a curious custom," remarked van Nerekool, "for the bridegroom
to give the wedding party."
"Yes," added another, "it is so totally different from what one sees
among Western people."
"Different!" exclaimed van Rheijn, "of course it is--it is quite
consistent with everything else in China. With them everything
is upside down. Their mourning colour is white and blue is
half-mourning. Their ladies wear trousers and the men carry fans. Such
things as knives, spoons and forks they leave to us barbarians, while
they manage very cleverly to whisk down their food with a pair of
chop-sticks. They hold that descendants can ennoble their ancestors
so that one may become a count or a baron after one's death. They
pay their doctors so long as they keep well; but the moment they fall
sick they stop payment. What can you expect from such people--? surely
you may let them hold their wedding feast at the bridegroom's house
instead of the bride's!"
A general laugh greeted this whimsical sally which had by no means been
uttered in an undertone. Mrs. van Gulpendam joined in the merriment
and rewarded the speaker with another friendly nod.
"You see! you lucky dog! you are decidedly in her good books."
"Hush, gentlemen! here comes the murderer."
"What? unfettered?"
"Yes, the law demands that an accused man shall appear free and
unfettered before his judges."
"But it does not forbid a couple of constables to stick close to
his elbow."
"Hush!"
Mr. Greveland had repeatedly struck the table with his wooden hammer.
"Usher," he said at length with much dignity, "you must see that
silence is kept in court."
The man thus addressed was a sjenjo or half-caste--he rushed up and
down the pandoppo in frantic endeavours to enforce the order he had
received, "Hush, hush, silence! Silence, ladies and gentlemen!" he
bawled at the top of his voice, thus making more noise than all the
company put together.
Again the hammer came down, and the president himself called:
"Silence."
"Silence!" shouted the usher imploringly, as he stretched out his arms
and looked as if he were going to swim, or was trying to lay a tempest.
At length he succeeded in controlling those unruly tongues. One of
the very last to give way was Laurentia--"who had a right to interfere
with her--the Resident's wife? Those gentlemen on the bench are always
giving themselves such airs!"
Presently, however, even her chatter ceased. Once again the president
brought down his hammer.
"The session is opened," said he; "constables bring the prisoner
forward!"
One of the oppassers hereupon drew Setrosmito to the foot of the
steps and made him squat down in front of the table. The poor fellow
looked a wretched object indeed. The months he had passed in prison
had effectually done their work upon him. He was frightfully lean, and
the warm brown colour of his skin had turned a dusky grey. His long
lank hair, which here and there straggled from under his head-dress,
had turned grey--nay white. As he advanced he looked timidly around
him, he cast one imploring glance at van Beneden, who gave him a
friendly nod and a smile of encouragement, and then, submissively,
he squatted down in the spot to which the policeman pointed.
When first Setrosmito came forward some one uttered a loud
heart-rending shriek of Ah God!--this cry was followed by the usher's
cry for silence.
At the back of the pandoppo several Javanese women were huddled
together. They were the friends of Setrosmito's wife, who had
accompanied her into the court. She it was who had uttered the wail
which made all the spectators turn their heads. She had not been able
to restrain her feelings at the sight of the wretched object in which
she could hardly recognise her husband. Van Nerekool at once hurried
up to the poor creature, he got one of the regent's servants to give
her a kind of stool, and then he tried to quiet her.
"You must keep quiet, M`Bok Dalima," said he, "or else you won't be
allowed to remain here."
The poor sobbing woman buried her face in both her hands.
On all sides were heard murmurs of "The murderer's wife! Poor woman!"
"Silence!" roared the usher.