BUITENZORG.
On the afternoon of the day of his arrival, a Sunday, having declined a
kind invitation to a party for the theatre, X. decided to leave for
Buitenzorg. He thought he sniffed fever mingled with the other very
apparent odours in his room on the ground floor, while Usoof and Abu not
only could not bathe but were unable to send his clothes to the wash.
The combination of reasons and of smells was strong.
It may be mentioned here, it being about as _apropos_ in this place as
it would be in any other, that all functions in Java, from a reception
of the Governor General to a performance by a travelling show, take
place on a Sunday.
The train left Batavia at 4.30 and X. reached Buitenzorg at six.
So much that is misleading has been written about Buitenzorg--the
Washington of Java, that X. was woefully deceived. It certainly is a
beautiful place--indeed exquisitely so, but a traveller is scarcely
satisfied with the beauties of nature when he pays to mankind for
creature comforts which he fails to obtain. The most agreeable feature
of the journey to a stranger who has, as it were, been long hemmed in by
dense jungles in the Peninsula, was certainly the long stretches of open
country reminding him of the pasture lands and fields which fly past the
train at home. Cattle and ponies grazing complete the illusion, and X.
could scarcely refrain from outspoken exclamations of delight.
It had been much impressed upon the traveller that he must by all means
obtain a room at the Belle Vue Hotel, and if possible, one overlooking
the back which governs the famous view. This was achieved by telegram.
On arrival a carriage with three ponies conveyed him to the hotel--a
poor building on a lovely site, which bristled with possibilities.
The famous back terrace of rooms was at the further side of the
courtyard to the entrance, and, once duly installed, X. was delighted
with the outlook. Just immediately below the window was the railway
line--below that rushed a large, broad, shallow mountain river in which
half the native population seemed to be bathing. Beyond these stretched
an unbroken view of picturesque villages, whose scattered red-roofed
houses peeped here and there from among the palms and other graceful
trees. Beyond again, the mountain--with five distinct sugar-loaf tops,
tops which had to be watched while counting as they emerged and
disappeared in turn from out and in the hanging land of clouds. Yes, the
view had certainly not been overrated, and X. was glad he came.
Usoof and Abu refused to consider anything beautiful, and could only
exclaim with horror at the bathers in the river, who evidently shocked
their ideas of propriety. Their master was not surprised at their
comments, but his own views were broader and his moral perceptions
perhaps blunter, and experience had taught him the propriety of the
injunction concerning Rome and the Romans. But it was nevertheless quite
certain that the most moderate London County Councillor could not have
borne the sight of that river without a shock to his system. After
revelling in the view from the verandah a black coat was donned for
dinner, which the wearer subsequently found rendered him conspicuous,
and he then crossed the courtyard to the dining room prepared to dine
well off fresh fish, mutton, and other products of the country. Although
the soup was on the table cooling, the company sat outside round a
little table drinking gin and bitters. Not wanting any, X. as Clark
Russell would say, hung in the wind, and then after a few
seconds--seeing that dinner was certainly ready--seated himself. This
isolated action rendered him almost as conspicuous as his coat, which
was also alone in its sombre glory. Presently others followed the
stranger's example, and the meal began. Then ensued a period of
disillusion. There was no punkah, the glare of the lamplight was
blinding, and the food--all of it--coarse, greasy and cold. The soup
which had been waiting was of the variety known as tinned, an old
acquaintance which X. had hoped to have left in the jungle until his
return. This, and other messes, would not have mattered so greatly, had
not the proprietor of the hotel, a pompous gentleman (X. afterwards
learnt he was President of the Race Club), stood sentry over the door,
whence issued the rows of servants with the dishes, narrowly watching
what each guest partook of and detecting with an eagle eye the uneatable
scraps which the defeated diner had striven to conceal beneath his knife
and fork. The most amusing thing during the progress of the meal was the
conversation of an elderly English couple, who, in truly British tourist
fashion seemed to imagine they were alone, and the people round them but
figures of wax who could neither hear nor be affected by anything they
might say. "Oh, how they soak the fish in grease," the lady would
exclaim; or, "This is good meat, but ruined, yes, positively ruined in
the cooking; look, my dear, it is (doubtfully, and sniffing at her
plate), it is absolutely _soaked_ in grease--oh, what a pity, how can
you eat it, dear--but you would eat anything," the speaker continued
garrulously, "for yesterday you ate the fish on board that steamer when
it was almost rotten--I smelt it from my cabin before we came out, etc,"
and much more in the same strain. To all these domestic remarks, her
companion vouchsafed no reply, but continued his dinner as though
accustomed to such an accompaniment.
It was as much as X. could do to refrain from laughing, and, fearful of
hurting the feelings of others himself, he would take another helping
when the proprietor was looking, and felt uncommonly "hot" at the
conduct of his compatriot. However, worse was to come, for at the end of
dinner, when the "boys" brought coffee made in the way usual to the
country--a few drops of cold essence of coffee at the bottom of the
cups, which had to be filled up with boiling milk or water--the lady
from England could not contain her indignation, but loudly scolded the
waiter for such a stingy way of putting so little in the cup, since
"coffee should surely be cheap in Java," and then proceeded to empty the
contents of all the cups into two, one for herself and one for her
husband, while saying with a smile "we like a cup of coffee, not a
drop." Then while she sipped her full cup like one on whom there
unwillingly dawns the unpleasant consciousness of having made a mistake,
the lady further addressed the waiter and asked, "Do they always drink
cold coffee in Java?" The waiter, who could only stand passive while
this calm robbery was committed--for had not the whole company to wait
for a second brew--made reply with the only English of his vocabulary,
"yes." X., who had the doubtful advantage of understanding as well as
seeing all that was going on, glared fiercely as he saw himself deprived
of the only portion of the meal which was at all likely to be good, and
could willingly have caused an interruption by using his napkin and
bread as a sling and a stone. The "yes" of the native apparently checked
the embarrassment which the lady was beginning to feel, and triumphantly
she exclaimed, "My goodness, what a country." Then the husband blew his
nose with discomfort, and, her attention attracted, his good wife
exclaimed, "My dear, you have a cold, let us go to bed," and they went.
X., and possibly others, found satisfaction in the thought that people
might go to bed after partaking of such a concoction as that couple had
done, but that they certainly would not sleep. Nor did they, as the
sequel showed. For the lady and her husband also had a room on the
terrace suite, and this was divided only by a thin partition from that
of X., and though he did not wish to listen, the first words which
greeted his gratified ears on the following morning were, "Oh, darling,
I have had such a dreadful night; I never closed my eyes." X. heard no
more as he delicately buried his head in the pillows, lest he should be
dragged too deep in domestic confidences; but he had heard enough--he
was avenged. And they knew themselves it was the coffee, since it was
noticed that this night after dinner the sleepless couple each firmly
declined the brimming cups, which, with kind forethought for the public
good, the proprietor had ordered to be handed to them.