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ACROSS THE EQUATOR.
[Frontispiece: TEMPLE, PARAMBANAN.]
ACROSS THE
EQUATOR.
A HOLIDAY
TRIP IN JAVA.
BY
THOS. H. REID.
KELLY & WALSH, LIMITED,
SINGAPORE--SHANGHAI--HONGKONG--YOKOHAMA.
1908.
[all rights reserved.]
PREFACE.
It was at the end of the month of September, 1907, that the writer
visited Java with the object of spending a brief vacation there.
The outcome was a series of articles in the "Straits Times," and after
they appeared so many applications were made for reprints that we were
encouraged to issue the articles in handy form for the information of
those who intend to visit the neighbouring Dutch Colony. There was no
pretension to write an exhaustive guide-book to the Island, but the
original articles were revised and amplified, and the chapters have
been arranged to enable the visitor to follow a given route through the
Island, from west to east, within the compass of a fortnight or three
weeks.
For liberty to reproduce some of the larger pictures, we are indebted
to Mr. George P. Lewis (of O. Kurkdjian), Sourabaya, whose photographs
of Tosari and the volcanic region of Eastern Java form one of the
finest and most artistic collections we have seen of landscape work.
SINGAPORE, _July, 1908_.
CONTENTS.
FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF BATAVIA 1
THE BRITISH IN JAVA 15
BOTANIST'S PARADISE AT BUITENZORG 23
ON THE ROAD TO SINDANGLAYA 33
SINDANGLAYA AND BEYOND 42
HINDU RUINS IN CENTRAL JAVA 49
THE TEMPLES OF PARAMBANAN 58
PEOPLE AND INDUSTRIES OF CENTRAL JAVA 65
THE HEALTH RESORT OF EAST JAVA 73
SUNRISE AT THE PENANDJAAN PASS 77
HOTELS AND TRAVELLING FACILITIES 87
First Impressions of Batavia.
When consideration is given to the fact that Java is only two days'
steaming from Singapore, that it is more beautiful in some respects than
Japan, that it contains marvellous archaeological remains over 1,100
years old, and that its hill resorts form ideal resting places for the
jaded European, it is strange that few of the British residents
throughout the Far East, or travellers East and West, have visited the
Dutch Colony.
The average Britisher, weaving the web of empire, passes like a shuttle
in the loom from London to Yokohama, from Hongkong to Marseilles. He
thinks imperially in that he thinks no other nation has Colonies worth
seeing. British port succeeds British port on the hackneyed line of
travel, and he may be excused if he forgets that these convenient
calling places, these links of Empire, can have possible rivals under
foreign flags.
There is no excuse for the prevailing ignorance of the Netherland
Indies. We do not wish it to be inferred that we imagine we have
discovered Java, as Dickens is said to have discovered Italy, but we
believe we are justified in saying that few have realised the
possibilities of Java as a health resort and the attractions it has to
offer for a holiday.
Miss Marianne North, celebrated as painter and authoress and the rival
of Miss Mary Kingsley and Mrs. Bishop (Isabella Bird) as a traveller in
unfrequented quarters of the globe, has described the island as one
magnificent garden, surpassing Brazil, Jamaica and other countries
visited by her, and possessing the grandest of volcanoes; and other
famous travellers have written in terms of the highest praise of its
natural beauties.
Its accessibility is one of its recommendations to the holiday maker.
The voyage across the Equator from Singapore is a smooth one, for the
most part through narrow straits and seldom out of sight of islands clad
with verdure down to the water's edge.
Excellent accommodation is provided by the Rival Dutch Mail steamers
running between Europe and Java and the Royal Packet Company's local
steamers, and the Government of the Netherland Indies co-operates with a
recently-formed Association for the encouragement of tourist traffic on
the lines of the Welcome Society in Japan. This Association has a
bureau, temporarily established in the Hotel des Indes in Batavia, to
provide information and travelling facilities for tourists, not only
throughout Java, but amongst the various islands that are being brought
under the sway of civilised government by the Dutch Colonial forces.
As our steamer pounded her way out of Singapore Harbour in the early
morning, islands appeared to spring out of the sea, and seascape after
seascape followed in rapid succession, suggesting the old-fashioned
panoramic pictures of childhood's acquaintance. One's idea of scenery,
after all, is more or less a matter of comparison. One passenger
compares the scene with the Kyles of Bute; another with the Inland Sea
of Japan, at the other end of the world. Yet, this tropical waterway is
unlike either, and has a characteristic individuality of its own, none
the less charming because of the comparisons it suggests and the
associations it recalls.
We spent a good deal of our time on the bridge with the Captain, who was
courteous enough to point out all the leading points on his chart.
The Sultanate of Rhio lies on the port bow, four hours' sail from
Singapore. Glimpses of Sumatra are obtained on the starboard, and on the
way the steamer passes near to the Island of Banka, reputed to contain
the richest tin deposits in the world. This tin is worked by the
Government of the Netherland Indies, with Chinese contract labour; and
the revenue obtained is an important factor in balancing the Colonial
Budget. It is interesting to note that the Chinese, who have long mined
for gold and tin in the Malay Peninsula and Archipelago, were quite
familiar with the rich nature of Banka's soil two hundred years ago, and
that tin from this island was then a common medium of exchange in China
and throughout the Far East wherever the adventurous Chinese merchant
had penetrated.
The visitor landing at Tandjong Priok, the port of Batavia, after his
experience of other Far Eastern ports, cannot fail to be struck by the
excellence of the arrangements for berthing vessels and for storing
cargo. We British people are so accustomed to the idea that our ports
are the best and our trading arrangements unequalled that we are
astonished when we discover that our shipping and commercial rivals know
how to do some things better than ourselves, and that all wisdom is not
to be found within the confines of England and among the people who are
proud to own it as their place of birth. Our Far Eastern ports owe their
supremacy to geographical position almost entirely. We have realised
that during recent years in Singapore, and in our haste to correct the
mistakes of former officials and residents, the Straits Settlements paid
rather heavily when they expropriated the Tanjong Pagar Company which
owned the wharves, docks and warehouses. Tandjong Priok may not handle
the shipping that Tanjong Pagar does, but if they were called upon to do
so, we have not the least doubt that our Dutch neighbours would rise
readily to the occasion.
There is a Customs examination at Tandjong Priok. In our own case, it
was a mere formality, the new duty on imported cameras not applying to
our well-used kodak, since it was being taken out of the country again.
But we could not help contrasting to the disadvantage of Singapore the
examination of Chinese and other Asiatic passengers. Theoretically, in
Singapore, there is no Customs service. It is a free port, and so,
theoretically, one may land there free of vexatious examinations, such
as one experiences at some Continental ports or on the wharves at San
Francisco. But, as a matter of fact, they who have occasion to walk
along the sea front in Singapore may see Asiatic passengers at any of
the landing places turning out their baggage in sun or rain, while
chentings--the hirelings of the rich Chinese Syndicate which "farms" or
leases the opium and spirit monopolies--examine it for opium or spirits.
There is no proper landing place, absolutely no proper arrangements for
overhauling baggage, with the result that these poor Asiatics are
subjected to examination under conditions that are a disgrace to a place
which arrogates a front place in the seaports of the world.
They do things better at Tandjong Priok.
There is a brief journey by train to Batavia, and there the visitor,
having handed over his baggage to the care of the hotel runners at
Tandjong Priok, ought to take a sado for conveyance to the particular
hotel he has selected. The word sado is a corruption of "dos-a-dos." The
vehicle is drawn by a small pony, and is not comparable with the ricksha
for comfort, though the long distances may make the ricksha an
impossibility in Batavia.
[Illustration: THE TOWN HALL.]
Batavia is favoured in that it has a choice of several good hotels.
Whoever selects the Hotel Nederland or the Hotel des Indes will say that
the other "best Hotels in the Far East" have something yet to learn in
the accommodation of visitors, general cleanliness, and moderation of
prices.
One of the first things one ought to do after arrival is to obtain the
"toelatingskaart," at the Town Hall. Armed with this document, which,
most probably, he will never be called upon to show, the tourist may
travel in the interior. Without it, he may have trouble.
Batavia shares with the French ports of Saigon and Hanoi the honour of
more resembling a European town than any other ports in the Far East.
This, of course, is a matter of opinion, though it is based on
acquaintance with every port of importance from Yokohama to Penang,
including the principal ports of the Philippines, and we were somewhat
surprised, therefore, when expressing this opinion to a Dutch friend,
with his reply:
"When I left Singapore, with its fine buildings I felt I had said
good-bye to Europe!"
A little probing soon showed that it was only the two and three-storeyed
houses that created this impression.
[Illustration: HOTEL DES INDES.]
One has only to stroll along the Noordwijk in the afternoon and evening
to appreciate the difference between Batavia and Singapore. After
sundown, so far as Europeans are concerned, with the exception of the
little life seen under the electric light of Raffles Hotel and the Hotel
de l'Europe, Singapore is a dead place. Hongkong is no better. In
Batavia it is different. Up to the dinner hour, and after, there is a
considerable amount of life and light and animation, and if it be a
stretch of the imagination to compare the Noordwijk or the Rijswijk with
the Boulevard des Capuchins in Paris, or its open air restaurants with
the Café de la Paix, it is at least within comparison to say that the
resemblance to a Continental town is sufficiently marked to be welcome,
while one can have as choice a dinner or supper, with superb wines, in
Stamm and Weijns or the Hotel des Indes as in the best restaurants of
London and Paris. Not the least noticeable feature of all to the
observant visitor will be the punctilio and excellence of the waiting of
the Javanese table boys. When one saw the carefulness with which each
dish was served, and the superior nature of the side dishes, one thought
with a shudder of the sloppy vegetables, the dusty marmalade, and the
slipshod waiting of the China boy in some of the hotels it had been our
misfortune to patronise in British Colonies.
In this quarter, the wives and daughters of the Dutch and foreign
merchants drive in comfortable rubber-tyred carriages, having first
driven to the business quarter to bring home the "tuan besar" or head of
the family. Greetings are exchanged with friends by the way, and, while
the young folks stroll off in happy groups, the elders alight to drink
beer or wine at one or other of the famous open-air restaurants. There
is a general air of prosperity and a spirit of gaiety which one does not
usually associate with our Dutch cousins in the depressing humid
atmosphere of Holland. One soon catches the spirit of the place the more
readily if one has spent any time on the Continent.
On band nights the Harmonie or Concordia Clubs, two beautiful and
commodious buildings replete with every comfort, become the rendezvous
of old and young, and dancing is kept up till half-past eight o'clock.
It must be confessed that it made one perspire to see the dancers tread
a measure to a popular waltz, but there could be no question of the
enjoyment of those who participated.
There are two Batavias. There is the old town, founded in 1619 as the
capital of the Dutch East Indies upon the ruins of the ancient city of
Jakatra. This is the portion of the town where the business is done,
with the famous Kali Besar, the Lombard Street and Fenchurch Street of
Batavia.
The quarter is not particularly attractive. But after experience of the
filthy Chinese quarters of Singapore, Hongkong and Shanghai, it is
satisfying to European self-respect to observe how Dutch officialdom has
asserted the claims of hygiene and cleanliness upon the Asiatic
residents. The objectionable hanging Chinese signboards are noticeably
absent in Batavia, as in all other towns throughout Java, and something
has been done to make less clamant the odoriferous articles of Chinese
commerce. The Dutch have proved that the Chinese are amenable to
European notions if only firmness is shown by those in authority.
Then there is the residential town, Weltevreden with its broad
tree-lined avenues and palatial pavilion hotels and private villa
establishments.
In style, the European houses are quite unlike those erected by the
Spaniards in the Philippine Islands, or the British in the Malay
Peninsula. They are not raised to any great height from the ground.
Three or four wide low steps lead on to a capacious white marble
verandah, the lofty roof of which is supported by shapely pillars with
Grecian cornices. Upon the polished surface of the ample hall are strewn
rugs of beautiful design or the fancy straw matting of the East.
Bed-rooms open on either side from this hall, and at the back, opening
out upon a spacious court-yard or garden filled with gaily coloured
flowers or stately palms, is another wide verandah where meals are
served. The bath-rooms, kitchen, stables, store-rooms and servants'
quarters lie beyond the garden. There is everywhere a generous
appreciation of space, and doubtless the good health enjoyed by the
Dutch ladies and their families so markedly in contrast to the British
colonists on the other side of the Equator is largely due to the more
comfortable homes in which they are settled. In Java, the bath-room is a
special feature, and only those who have travelled much in tropical
countries can appraise it at its true value. It is all in keeping with
the thorough cleanliness of the Dutch people, a feature which impressed
itself upon us wherever we travelled throughout the island. Detached
from every house of any pretensions, there is a smaller pavilion. It
usually stands in the grounds in front and nearer the roadway, and in
former times was spoken of as "the guest house." Nowadays, either
because the Hotels are more comfortable than in olden times or because
the railway system has led to a style of life that calls for less
hospitality for travellers, the guest house is more often let to
bachelors, who find it easier and cheaper to maintain a small
establishment of this sort than the bachelor messes or chummeries of
Singapore and Penang.
Weltevreden may be compared with a gigantic park, and there are
residences sufficiently imposing to please the lover of architectural
beauty, even if there is no assertive Clock Tower to emphasise by
contrast the hovels of Singapore's region of slums. The idea of keeping
the various races to their Kampongs may be contrary to British ideas,
but in Java it appears to work satisfactorily enough. It is only in
recent years that certain British colonies have been allowed to set
apart reservations for European residence, and it would be well if the
Government of the Federated Malay States, before it is too late,
introduced the Kampong system in laying out new towns throughout the
Peninsula.
A motor-car ride through the residential quarter and round the suburbs
of Batavia gives one a good idea of the extent of the town, and,
incidentally, of the merging of East and West in the population. Former
Dutch residents have left their impress in more respects than one, and
one result is a half-caste population which takes a much more prominent
part in the affairs of the island than is the case, so far as we are
aware, in any British Colony. There are pretty forms and beautiful faces
among this hybrid race, and we are not astonished that succeeding
generations from the land of dykes and canals should form alliances that
wed them for ever to the sunny soil of Java. East may be East and West
may be West, but here at least the lie is given to Kipling's
generalisation, false like most generalisations, as to the impossibility
of their blending.
The visitor will find the Museums full of objects of interest. On
Koningsplein, young Holland devotes itself to recreation, and evidence
is given here and elsewhere throughout the suburbs of the widespread
popularity of the English game of football. The Dutch do not follow the
British Colonial custom of sending their children to Europe. Many are
educated and kept under the home influence in Java, and a fine healthy
race of boys and girls is being reared to play its part in the new
Netherlands created by Dutch enterprise and perseverance. Great as is
the Java of the present day, there is justification for believing that
it has a greater future in store.
[Illustration]
The British in Java
It is a constant matter of regret to British travellers who have visited
Java that the island, once in our possession, should have been restored
to Dutch rule.
It is not our purpose, however, to discuss the reasons for that
restoration, contenting ourselves with the reflection that the capture
of Java was merely part of the plan for breaking the power of Napoleon
and destroying his dream of dominating the East. The alliance of
European Powers having succeeded in encompassing the great Frenchman's
downfall, there were doubtless good reasons at the time for reinstating
the Dutch in an island where they had been established for two hundred
years.
A perusal of the history of the British Expedition against Java brings
into strong relief the annihilation of space and the improvements in
marine travel during the past century.
It was on April 18, 1811, that the troopships carrying the first
Division, commanded by Colonel Robert Rollo Gillespie, sailed from
Madras Roads. On May 18, they anchored in Penang Harbour, and on June
1, at Malacca. Here they awaited the remainder of the flotilla, and were
joined by Lord Minto, then Viceroy of India; Lieutenant-General Sir
Samuel Auchmuty, Commander-in-Chief; and Commodore Broughton. While
here, the British learned that Marshal Daendels, the Dutch
Governor-General, had been recalled, and that General Janssens, with a
large body of troops from France, had landed and taken over the command
in Java.
Marshal Daendels had been the Governor-General when the Colony was taken
over by the Crown of Holland from the Dutch East India Company. He has
left the mark of his influence upon the Colony to this day, and many of
the public works that remain as evidence of the pioneer days were due to
his force of character and initiative. Some of his methods may not
commend themselves to us in these more humane and enlightened days, any
more than they were approved by his great English successor, Sir
Stamford Raffles, such, for instance, as his construction of the
post-road from Anjer Head to Banjoewangi, a distance of over 700 miles,
at the cost of from twelve to twenty thousand lives; but it is not
always easy to estimate at a distance of a hundred years the peculiar
difficulties and conditions under which European Governors administered
an oriental Colony. If, at times, he exceeded his instructions, as
British Governors also had to do before they came under the thralldom
of a Colonial Department at the end of a telegraph cable, we can forgive
much in a man who accomplished so much.
Sir Stamford Raffles is careful to explain in the preface of his
"History of Java" that as "in the many severe strictures passed upon the
Dutch Administration in Java, some of the observations may, for want of
a careful restriction in the words employed, appear to extend to the
Dutch nation and character generally, I think it proper explicitly to
declare that such observations are intended exclusively to apply to the
Colonial Government and its officers. The orders of the Dutch Government
in Holland to the authorities at Batavia, as far as my information
extends, breathe a spirit of liberality and benevolence; and I have
reason to believe that the tyranny and rapacity of its Colonial officers
created no less indignation in Holland than in other countries of
Europe."
On June 11, the British armada set out on the final stage of its
journey. We can imagine the imposing show it made as it lay in the
roadstead of Malacca, now shorn of its ancient importance and long since
superseded as the foremost shipping port in the Far East.
The squadron consisted of four line of battle ships, fourteen frigates,
seven sloops, eight Honourable East India Company's cruisers,
fifty-seven transports and several gunboats--altogether over 100 sail.
Composed equally of European and Indian troops, there were upwards of
10,000 men under Sir Samuel Auchmuty's command. The European troops
included the 14th, 59th, 69th, 78th, and 89th Regiments of Infantry,
Royal Artillery, and Royal Marines, and a small detachment of Royal
Engineers.
A course was set for a rendezvous off the coast of Borneo, and on August
4, 1811, a landing was effected at Chillingching, a village about ten
miles east of Batavia. To the astonishment of the British Commander, his
landing was not opposed, the defending force being concentrated in the
neighbourhood of Weltervreden and Meister Cornelius, to-day the thriving
residential suburbs of Batavia.
General Janssens rejected Lord Minto's summons to surrender.
On August 10, Batavia was in the hands of the British troops, and on
that day, after two hours of hard fighting, Weltervreden was captured,
the 78th Highlanders having a heavy casualty list amongst their
officers.
The French troops bravely contended every foot of ground, and battles,
with heavy losses on both sides, were fought on August 22, August 24,
and August 26. Colonel Gillespie, who led the advance in each of these
engagements, performed prodigies of bravery in the latter fight, for we
read that "Colonel Gillespie took one General in the batteries, one in
the charge, and a Colonel, besides having a personal affair in which
another Colonel fell by his arm."
Altogether, the British captured three General officers, 34 field
officers, 70 captains and 150 subaltern officers in these fights.
The rout of the enemy was complete. General Janssens made his escape to
Buitenzorg, thirty miles distant, with a few cavalrymen and the remnants
of his army of 13,000 men. He did not remain here long, but fled
eastwards.
A British force was shipped to Cheribon, where a large number of French
officers were captured; and the port of Samarang was next attacked, with
the object of forcing General Janssens back upon Solo, while the eastern
end of the island was occupied by another British force. On September
10, an action was fought outside Samarang, and Janssens, defeated,
retreated to Fort Salatiga; but eventually, being deserted by his
troops, he opened up negotiations for capitulation.
This must have been a bitter experience for General Janssens, for it was
not only the crowning misery of his defeat but marked the end of his
military career, assuming that his Imperial master retained his power in
Europe.
"Souvenez vous, Monsieur," Napoleon is reported to have said to him
upon taking up his appointment, "Qu'un Génèral Francais ne se laissa pas
prendre une seconde fois!"
The island having been wrested from the French, the British authorities
set about the reform of the civil administration. This was not to be
accomplished, however, without a test of strength between the natives
and their new masters. An act of treachery soon called the troops into
the field again.
During the Governorship of Marshal Daendels, the Sultan of Djocjakarta
had been the most turbulent and intriguing of the native princes, and
his conduct immediately after the British occupation gave occasion for
serious uneasiness. Mr. Stamford Raffles, who had been appointed by Lord
Minto Lieutenant-Governor of Java in December, 1811, went in person to
see the Sultan. A treaty was entered into, under which the Sultan
confirmed to the Honourable East India Company all the privileges,
advantages and prerogatives which had been possessed by the Dutch and
French authorities. To the Company also were transferred the sole
regulation of the duties and the collection of tribute within the
dominions of the Sultan, as well as the general administration of
justice in cases where British interests were concerned.
This expedition of Mr. Raffles seems to have had exciting experiences,
for we read:
"The small British escort which accompanied Mr. Raffles,
consisting only of a part of the 14th Regiment, a troop of the
22nd Light Dragoons and the ordinary garrison of Bengal Sepoys
in the Fort and at the Residency, were not in a condition to
enforce terms anyway obnoxious to the personal feelings of the
Sultan. The whole retinue, indeed, of the Governor were in
imminent danger of being murdered. Krises were actually
unsheathed by several of the Sultan's own suite in the Audience
Hall where Mr. Raffles received that Prince, who was accompanied
by several thousands of armed followers expressing in their
behaviour such an infuriated spirit of insolence as openly to
indicate that they only waited for the signal to perpetrate the
work of destruction, in which case not a man of our brave
soldiers, from the manner in which they were surrounded, could
have escaped."
For a time, however, an open breach of the peace was averted by the tact
of Mr. Raffles and the outward appearance of bravery of the officers and
men accompanying him.
Several expeditions were made into the interior to put down petty
brigands, in much the same way as the Dutch are engaged in Flores and
Celebes to-day, and a more imposing display of military force had to be
made in Sumatra.
In the following year, the Sultan of Mataram in Djocjakarta again became
troublesome, and it was found necessary to send a strong expedition
against him. On June 20, the famous Water Castle at Djocjakarta was
captured by assault, and the Sultan taken prisoner. He was exiled to
Prince of Wales Island (Penang), and the Hereditary Prince was placed on
the throne. The ruling native at Solo, who rejoiced in the imposing
title of Emperor, made terms with the Lieutenant-Governor, and peace was
established throughout the island, and was not disturbed seriously
during the remainder of the British occupation.
Mr. Raffles set himself to establish a more humane administration than
had hitherto prevailed, and anyone who wishes to realise the
thoroughness with which this able administrator set himself to the task
should read his "History of Java." It is replete with shrewd
observations of the native customs, industries, antecedents, and
languages, and shows how little change has been effected in the
character and domestic customs of the people during the last hundred
years.
The essence of his policy of administration is contained in the
following sentence written by him:--"Let the higher departments be
scrupulously superintended and watched by Europeans of character; let
the administration of justice be pure, prompt and steady;" and it is
satisfactory to one's sense of patriotism to know that that is the
spirit which pervades British administration in her Crown Colonies
to-day.
Botanist's Paradise at Buitenzorg.
To the Singaporean visitor to Java there is a melancholy interest in the
little monument erected in the Garden at Buitenzorg by Sir Stamford
Raffles to the memory of his wife, who died during his residence there.
In the conditions under which the island was restored to Holland, it was
stipulated that the monument, in the form of a little Greek temple,
should be cared for by the Dutch. The trust has been fulfilled, and
those of us who take interest in the historic chances and changes of
Britain's possessions in the Far East and the personal influence of the
builders of the Empire, can find food for reflection in the sacrifices
made by those men and women who are ever found on the Empire's
frontiers. The sight of this memorial among the kanari trees in the
tropical island of Java makes us think of the tablet in the little
parish church on the hill at Hendon, near which this woman's husband
lies buried.
The inscription runs as follows:--
"Sacred to the memory of Olivia Marianne, wife of Thomas
Stamford Raffles, Lieutenant-Governor of Java and its
dependencies, who died at Buitenzorg on the 26th November, 1814.
"Oh thou whom ne'er my constant heart
One moment hath forgot.
Tho' fate severe hath bid us part
Yet still--forget me not."
The traveller who has only a fortnight or three weeks to devote to Java
must awake betimes. In any event, he must needs be early to take
advantage of the express trains, and in our case we had only a day to
devote to Buitenzorg, where the Governor-General of the Netherland
Indies has his palace.
With the exception of the short run from Tandjong Priok, it was our
first acquaintance with the railway service, and when we saw the crowd
awaiting to entrain at Weltervreden Station we decided to travel
first-class, contrary to the advice of our friends. It was well we did
so on this occasion, for the train was overcrowded; but afterwards we
travelled only by the second-class, and found it as comfortable as one
could wish. Indeed, so few persons travel in the first-class
compartments of the trains that we are astonished that any are retained
by the management. Throughout Java we found the railway service
excellent in every respect. The carriages are comfortable. Ample
accommodation is given for each person. It is possible to stow away a
considerable amount of barang or baggage in the carriages, and full
advantage is taken of this facility by the Dutch and native travellers.
The lavatory accommodation is better than we have seen it in the fast
expresses on the principal lines in England, and on the through service
expresses there are restaurant cars where meals may be partaken of at a
moderate tariff. We cannot say we always found the food palatable, for
the Chinamen who are in charge appear to have a fixed idea that the
"beef-stuk," which is the pièce de resistance, should be served up raw.
In course of time, doubtless, the railway management will be able to
turn its attention to the commissariat arrangements, with a view to
their improvement, and, when they do so, we hope they will leave out the
beefsteak altogether and provide more variety and daintier, more
inviting, and more palatable viands.
A fair rate of speed is maintained, and it is possible to go from
Batavia to Sourabaya, at the other end of the island, in two days. The
trains, of course, as in the Federated Malay States, run only from
sunrise to sundown, and the through traveller between the two principal
towns must sleep the night at Maos, where a commodious pasanggrahan or
rest-house provides clean, comfortable accommodation and wholesome food.
Only on two occasions were we belated on the railway, and both instances
were due to the one cause,--a wash-out on the line at Moentilan, the
result of a severe thunder and rain storm on the previous day and night.
The train was run down cautiously to the gap, passengers crossed over on
a temporary bridge to the train waiting on the other side, and the
baggage was transferred by a host of coolies. All this had to be done in
a torrential rain-storm, but the railway officials did all in their
power to make the conditions as little disagreeable as possible, and the
only inconvenience was the late arrival of some of the baggage at
Djocjakarta.
There was not much of interest on the morning run to Buitenzorg, but the
Dutch lady who carried on an animated conversation with four gentlemen
for the whole of the hour and a half introduced to us the possibilities
for expression in the Dutch equivalents of "Yes" and "No."
We had been prepared by Miss Scidmore's book for the beauties of
Buitenzorg, and for once expectation was more than realised.
The Dutch Governor-General van Imhoff was certainly well advised when he
selected this position as the official residence of the
Governor-General, and the Dutch horticulturists, than whom there are
probably none better, deserve to be congratulated upon the garden city
they have created out of the primeval jungle.
Part of the old palace was built by Governor-General Mossel, one hundred
and fifty years ago, and the original received additions during the
reigns of Daendels and Raffles. This structure was destroyed by an
earthquake in 1834, and the new palace, the first glimpse of which one
receives across an artificial lake, is a worthy residence for the
administrator of the Dutch Indies. The surface of the lake is studded
with lotus flowers and victoria regia, and the little island in the
centre displays a wealth of the red or rajah palm, feathery yellow
bamboo, and dark-green foliage which the lake mirrors in ever-changing
pictures.
An Alma Tadema or a Marcus Stone would revel in the flowers and marbles
of the palace, with its broad stairs and corridors and fine Ionian
columns and cornices; and a Landseer or a MacWhirter might find endless
subjects in the deer park by which it is surrounded.
The garden is a botanist's paradise. Tropical treasures from Nature's
storehouse, collected by successive Directors, are arranged with care
and precision characteristically Dutch. It was established in 1817 by
Professor Reinwardt, and many distinguished botanists who have left
their mark in the scientific world studied here and added to the
collections. As may be imagined, the Dutch were not content with a mere
show place for tropical specimens, and they established five mountain
gardens where experiments are conducted, for practical and scientific
purposes, in the cultivation of flowers, plants, vegetables and trees
usually found in temperate regions. These gardens are situated in the
mountains to the south--at Tjipanas, Tjibodas, Tjibeureum, Kadang Badoh,
and on the top of Mount Pangerango, that is to say, at heights ranging
from 3,500 ft. to 10,000 ft. The garden at Tjibodas remains, and at the
Governor-General's summer villa at Tjipanas one might imagine one's-self
in a private garden in Surrey or Kent.
In the buildings at Buitenzorg, facilities are afforded for foreign
students, and at the time of our visit a Japanese Professor, from the
Tokio University, who had studied for three and a half years in Berlin,
was making an exhaustive investigation on scientific lines. Everything
that can be of service to students of botany is to be found here in the
museum, herbarium and library.
The general herbarium has been arranged on the Kew model. Besides a
large collection of plants made by Zollinger between 1845 and 1858, it
contains the valuable collections gathered by Teysmann, between 1854 and
1870, throughout the Malay Archipelago. Specimens by Kurz and Scheffer
are also found, together with other recent collections of plants from
Borneo and adjacent islands. Duplicates from the Herbarium at Kew
Gardens and from several of the more famous European herbaria are to be
found here, as well as numerous specimens from the botanical
institutions of the British Colonies.
The Herbarium Horti contains the necessary materials for the compilation
of the new catalogue of the Botanic Gardens, and the Herbarium
Bogoriense contains plants to be found in the neighbourhood of
Buitenzorg.
Besides specimens of fruits, there is a comprehensive technical
collection in the Botanical Museum--fibres, commercial specimens of
rattan, india-rubber, and gutta-percha, barks for tanning purposes,
Peruvian barks, vegetable oils, indigo samples, various kinds of meal,
resins and damars. There is also a section devoted to forest and staple
produce.
Fuller details of the gardens and environs of Buitenzorg may be found in
the handbook published by Messrs. G. Kolff and Co., Batavia.
One need not be wholly a scientific investigator to appreciate the
beauties of Buitenzorg. There is here one view which has been described
over and over again, oftentimes in the language of hyperbole--the view
of the Tjidani Valley from the verandah of Bellevue Hotel. It is,
indeed, difficult to avoid the use of extravagant language in the
attempt to describe this beauty spot of Nature.
Though he was writing of a beautiful woman, F. Marion Crawford might
have been describing some beautiful landscape when he wrote in his own
exquisite style:--
"I think that true beauty is beyond description; you may describe the
changeless faultless outlines of a statue to a man who has seen good
statues and can recall them; you can, perhaps, find words to describe
the glow and warmth and deep texture of a famous picture, and what you
write will mean something to those who know the master's work; you may
even conjure up an image before untutored eyes. But neither minute
description nor well-turned phrase, neither sensuous adjective nor
spiritual smile can tell half the truth of a beautiful living thing."
The noble Roman, prompted to exclaim "Behold the Tiber" as he stood on
the summit of Kinnoull Hill and gazed upon the fertile valley of
Scotland's noblest stream, saw no fairer sight than this veritable
Garden of Eden in Equatorial Java.
Seen in the afternoon when the setting sun is casting long shadows over
the landscape, the scene in the Tjidani Valley is calculated to arouse
the artistic senses of the most insusceptible. Miles away, the Salak
raises his majestic cone against the blue sky. In the distance, the
mountain forms a purple background for the picture, purple flecked with
soft white patches of floating cloud. Beneath his massive form, colour
is lost in shadowy but closer at hand are the dark pervading greens of
the trees and vegetation, palms and tree ferns and banana trees helping
by their graceful form to provide the truely tropical features, while
the equally graceful clumps of bamboo sway and creak in the light
breeze, their pointed leaves supplying that perpetual flutter and
movement which one associates with the birches and beeches of one's
native land. The cultivated patches on hillside and valley are rich in
colour. Here, the yellow paddy is ripening for the sickle; there, it is
bright green; alongside, the patient buffaloes are dragging a clumsy
wooden plough through water-covered soil to prepare for the next crop.
The lake-like patches reflect weird outlines, and one almost imagines
that they catch the brilliant colours from the sun-painted clouds.
Down the valley, crossing the picture from left to right is the
river--the Tjidani,--a broad shallow stream when we saw it, in which
men, women and children are constantly bathing. From the compact kampong
nestling among the trees, the native women, clad in bright coloured
sarongs, came with babies, who take to the water as if it were their
natural element. Merry shouts of laughter ascend from the valley as the
youngsters splash about and chase each other. Everything suggests
beauty and peace and contentment, and as one drinks in the scene it is
borne in upon one that the comparison with the Garden of Eden is not
inapt. What could one wish for more than a beautiful, bounteous land and
a happy, contented people!
On the Road to Sindanglaya
Long before sunrise, the sound of merry voices arose from the valley.
Already the natives were bathing in the Tjidani, and, when the light
came, the primeval life on which the sun had gone down was reproduced in
the model-like scene spread out before us. Our kreta for the journey
over the Poentjak Pass had been ordered for six o'clock, but with
un-Oriental punctuality it was a quarter-past live when the sound of
carriage wheels broke in upon our dreams.
While we sipped our morning coffee,--Java hotel coffee has improved
since Miss Scidmore anathematised it in 1899,--the sun's rays began to
peep over the shoulder of the Salak, and dispelled the morning mists on
river and valley. The Salak's fretwork crater stood out entirely
clear--his form a purple background to the picture gradually unfolding
itself. Nature was everywhere awake. Children's voices in play blended
with the songs of early workers proceeding to the fields. Butterflies
flitted and floated like detached petals from the flowers. Distance
converted human figures into larger butterflies, yellow and orange,
pink and blue and red. If it were beautiful in the evening, the scene
was enchanting in the morning, and it was with reluctance that we obeyed
the summons to early breakfast, and followed our barang into the kreta
to begin the journey to Sindanglaya.
It was half-past six o'clock when we were salaamed out of the courtyard
of the Bellevue by the hotel "boys."
The kreta was not a handsome affair. In fact it was one of the most
disreputable vehicles it has ever been our misfortune to travel in, and
when we made acquaintance of the road it had to travel over we must give
the owner credit for an abundant faith in the toughness of the kreta. It
was a cross between the carromata of the Philippines and a covered
dog-cart. There was no aid to mount. By a series of gymnastics we
managed to get into the driver's seat--our own was behind his but also
facing to the front. In attempting to get there, a sudden movement of
the team sent us plunging into the barang, and, in extricating
ourselves, head came in contact with the roof and hat went overboard.
Eventually we went off with a bound along the main street of Buitenzorg,
scattering the fowls obtaining a precarious living in the roadway, and
sending cats and dogs and goats flying for safety into the houses.
We had now time to examine the points of our team. It was composed of
three tiny Battak ponies. Two were brown, and one a piebald in which a
dingy chestnut strove for mastery with a dingier white. No two ponies
were the same in size. One was in the shafts; the other two were in
traces alongside. They tapered in size from right to left--the piebald
on the left. The giant of the group had a nasty temper, and when lashed,
as he was frequently during the drive, vented his anger upon the patient
brute doing the lion's share of the work in the shafts. Upon the whole
they did their work extremely well, for a great deal was asked of them,
and they scarcely deserved the almost continuous flogging to which they
were subjected by our driver.
Having travelled over the road from Buitenzorg to Sindanglaya by the
Poentjak, without reserve, we advise pilgrims to Sindanglaya to
patronise the road from Tjiandjoer. The local guide book remarks with
truth: "The main road to the Poentjak being very steep, it does not
afford a quick mode of travelling. At Toegoe, an extra team of horses
must be added--or karbouws (water buffaloes) used instead of the horses,
to pull the carriage at a slow pace up the mountain. Good walkers may,
therefore, be advised to do this part of the road on foot, which will
take them about an hour and a half. By doing so they will be more able
to admire this marvellous work of Governor-General Daendels."
We suspect there is a touch of Dutch satire in this last remark. We have
travelled the road, and we are not prepared to parody the old Scot's
saying:--
"If you'd seen this road before it was made,
You'd lift up your hands and bless General Wade"
Daendels may have been an admirable gentleman, a brave soldier, and a
clever administrator, but his engineering skill did not equal his other
qualities. It would have been much better if the road had never been
made. Surely no highway was ever more badly graded, and we are not
astonished that a practical people like the Dutch set themselves to
construct a more sensible road by way of Tjitjoeroeg and Soekaboemie. We
have seen paved mountain paths in China more inaccessible, but not much,
and when we dashed up to the Sindanglaya Hotel at 12.15, we thought more
highly of the team that had pulled us over the Pass than we could have
believed when we formed our first early morning prejudices.
Needless to say, it is not a road for a motor car. It would be
inadvisable to adopt this route to Sindanglaya if the party included
ladies. But, if they have a taste for mountaineering, baggage should be
sent by rail to Tjiandjoer under the care of some of the party, and
carriages dispensed with at Toegoe and the remainder of the journey made
on foot. As it was, a good deal of our journey up had to be made on
foot over unblinded loose road metal.
Going down the other side the driver led the ponies for about a quarter
of a mile, and then joined us in the kreta. That downward trip was the
most perilous we ever made in anything that runs on wheels, except a
train journey from Manila to Malolos during the Filipino insurrection in
1899. Jack London, the Californian novelist, once told us that life
would not be worth living if it were not for the thrills. We had more
thrills than we care to have crowded into one hour on that down-grade
run from Poentjak to Sindanglaya. Several times, we retrimmed at the
request of the driver, and we kept the barang from falling upon him,
while he manipulated our three rakish adventurers from Battak. When an
unusually severe lurch nearly precipitated us into the deep storm-water
channel on the left or the carefully-irrigated paddy fields on the
right, Jehu turned round and grinned a grin of fiendish appreciation,
whilst we thanked with fervour the merciful Providence who preserved us
from destruction, and wondered how long one could hold out with a broken
limb, without surgical help, should the worst happen. It is the
unexpected that happens. We got to Sindanglaya without any more serious
damage than a bottle of Odol distributed amongst our best clothes.
Governor-General Daendels seems to have had a high opinion of this
remarkable highway. We read: "The obstinacy with which he carried
through his scheme of constructing the main road to the Preanger
Regencies across this summit is really amazing. He never shrank from the
terrible death-rate among the wretched labourers, nor from the
difficulties and enormous cost to keep such a road in good condition,
for, especially in the west monsoon, heavy rain-showers are continually
washing the earth off the road. Yet it was by no means necessary." Let
this be Governor-General Daendels' epitaph!
Had not one's attention been distracted by the eccentric performances of
the kreta, one might well have admired the scenery. Close at hand, the
road teems with fascinating pictures of native life. Only occasionally
does one see a really beautiful face, but there is a pretty shyness such
as one seldom sees on the roads of a European country. Although we read
of the thirty millions of people in Java, there is still, apparently,
room for more, and nearly every woman has a brown baby slung upon the
hip and others dragging on her sarong, or seeking to efface themselves
behind her none too ample form. At intervals, old women or young
children keep shop, either in nipa huts or on mats under the shade of a
kanari-tree. In the kampongs or collections of neat little huts which
punctuate the way, a pasar (market) is being held, haberdashers with
cheap glass and fancy wares being in juxtaposition with dealers in
sarongs and the sellers of fruits and vegetables. On the stoeps of some
of the houses, groups of women spin or weave cloth for the native
sarong; some make deft use of the sewing machine of foreign commerce.