but the other more important collection is scattered over the region
between Djocjakarta and Soerakarta. One small temple, the Tjandi Kali
Bening, is reputed to be the gem of Hindu art in Java. This we did not
see; but, on another day, in a victoria drawn by four small ponies, kept
going by the wild gr-r-r-ee gr-r-r-eeing of our native running footman,
we drove to the scattered temples on the Plain of Parambanan, where,
with the help of another archæological guide by Dr. I. Groneman, we were
able to appreciate the beauties of these 1100-year-old centres of
ancient religious devotees. These temples are the most interesting in
the country, though lacking the extent and grandeur of the Boro Budur.
Though they do not contain a single genuine Buddha figure, but many
images of Brahmanic gods, Dr. Groneman says there are many reasons to
justify the opinion that they were built by Buddhists, probably over the
ashes of princes and grandees of a Buddhistic empire.
In his report to Sir Stamford Raffles on these Parambanan ruins, Captain
George Baker, of the Bengal establishment wrote:--"In the whole course
of my life, I have never met with 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 little
spot, which, to use a military phrase, I deem to have been the
headquarters of Hinduism in Java."
In Volume XIII of the "Asiatick Researches or Transactions of the
Society instituted in Bengal for inquiring into the History and
Antiquities, the Arts, Sciences and Literature of Asia" (Calcutta,
1820), Mr. John Crawfurd, who, apparently, visited Java in 1816, gives a
long and interesting description of the ruins on the Plain of
Parambanan. He describes the locale as ten miles from Djocjakarta, a
valley lying between Rababu and Marapi to the north and a smaller
southern range of high land.
A few of the ruins consist of single isolated temples, but the greater
number are in groups, rows of small temples surrounding larger temples.
The shape of the smaller temples is worthy of observation. From the
foundation to the lintels of the doors, they are of a square form. They
then assume a pyramidal but round shape, and are decorated around by
small figures resembling Lingas, while a larger Linga surmounts the
whole building, forming the apex of the temple.
Invariably, the sites of the temples are adjacent to abundant supplies
of clear water so much desired by the Hindus and so necessary to the
performance of the ritual. Beside two rivers of the purest water, there
is between the villages of Parambanan and Plaosan a small tank,
evidently an appendage to the temples. This little piece of water is a
square of about 200 feet to the side. The ground around it is elevated,
and there is every appearance of its being an artificial excavation. The
whole tank, when visited by Mr. Crawfurd, was covered with blue lotus,
the flower of which is so conspicuous an ornament of the sculptures of
the temple.
Then, as now, there was no evidence of Hindu descendants of the builders
of these religious houses and places of worship, but the Javanese are as
tolerant of various religious cults as the Chinese or the Japanese, and
the visitor need not be surprised to find native visitors making what
appears to be a pilgrimage to some particular shrine.
Mr. Crawfurd found barren women, men unfortunate in trade or at play,
persons in debt and sick persons propitiating the Goddess Durgá,
"smeared with perfumed unguents or decked with flowers." This worship,
too, was not confined to the lower orders. His Highness the Susuhunan
when meditating an unusually ambitious or hazardous scheme made
offerings to the image.
These temples are built of a hard dark and heavy species of basalt, the
chief component of the mountains of Java. The stone is usually hewn in
square blocks of various sizes, as is the case with the Boro Budur. The
respective surfaces of the stones which lie on each other in the
building have grooves and projections which key into each other as in
the best masonry work to-day. They are regularly arranged in the walls
in such a manner as to give the greatest degree of strength and solidity
to the structure, and nowhere is cement or mortar utilised. There are no
huge pillars or single blocks such as may be seen in other prehistoric
edifices, and neither in boldness of design nor imposing grandeur have
the temples presented any difficulties to the builders. There is nothing
upon a great scale, nothing attempted outside the reach of the most
obvious mechanical contrivance or the most ordinary methods of common
ingenuity. The chief characteristic is the minute laboriousness of the
execution. Nevertheless, the temples excite the imagination, and send
the thoughts back to those primeval days when men sought to express
their religious feeling through these elaborate monuments of hewn stone.
The Tjandi Kalasan, one of the most beautiful of the temples, is the
only ruin in Central Java of which the exact date of construction has
been learned with any degree of accuracy. This was ascertained from a
stone found in the neighbourhood, inscribed in nâgari characters. Two
versions of the inscription were made--one by the Dutch scholar, Dr. J.
Brandes, and the other by the Indian, Dr. R. G. Bhandarkar.
Dr. I. Groneman makes use of both versions to compile the following:--
"Homage to the blessed (or, reverend) and noble Târâ.
"May she,--the only deliverer of the world, who, seeing how men
perish in the sea of life, which is full of incalculable misery,
is sure to save them by the three means--grant you the wished
for essence, the salvation of the world by the Lord of gods and
men.
"The guru (_i.e._ teacher) of the Sailendra prince erected a
magnificent Târâ temple. At the command (or, the instance) of
the guru, the grateful ----(?) made an image of the goddess and
built the temple, together with a dwelling (vihara, monastery)
for the monks (bhikshus) who know the great vehicle of
discipline (Mahâyâna).
"By authorisation of the king, the Târâ temple and the monastery
for the reverend monks have been built by his counsellors, the
pangkur, the tavan, and the tirip (old Javanese civil officers,
perhaps soothsayers or astrologers).
"The deserving guru of the Sailendra king built the temple in
the prosperous reign of the king, the son of the Sailendra
dynasty.
"The great king built the Târâ temple in honour of the guru (to
do homage to the guru) when 700 years of the Saka era were past.
"The territory of the village of Kâlasa was bestowed on the
congregation of priests (monks) in the presence of the pangkur,
the tavan and the tirip, and the village chiefs (as witnesses).
"This great (incomparable) endowment was made by the king for
the monks. It is to be perpetuated by the (later) kings of the
Sailendra dynasty, for the benefit of the successive reverend
congregations of monks, and be respected (maintained) by the
wise pangkur, the good tivan, the wise tirip and others, and by
their virtuous wives (according to Dr. Brandes, but "their
virtuous foot-soldiers" according to Dr. Bhandarkar).
"The king also begs of all following kings that this bridge (or,
dam) of charity, which is (a benefit) for all nations, may be
perpetuated for all time.
"May all who adhere to the doctrine of the Jinas, through the
blessings of this monastery, obtain knowledge of the nature of
things, constituted by the concatenation of causes (and
effects), and may they thrive.
"The ---- prince once more requests of (all) future kings that
they may protect the monastery righteously."
This inscription, showing clearly that the temple was consecrated to
Târâ, the sakti of the deliverer of the world, the fourth Dhyâni Buddha,
Amitâbha, the Târâ of the Buddhists of the Northern Church (Mahâyâna, or
the "Great Vehicle"), leads Dr. Groneman to the opinion that this
particular temple was completed in the year 701 of the Saka era, or 779
of the Christian era. No trace of the Târâ image was found; but this is
not to be wondered at when we note the presence of other images in the
gardens of private residences in Djocjakarta, and even farther afield,
and remember the destruction wrought by foreign soldiers and foreign and
native vandals.
People and Industries of Central Java.
In the plains going eastward through Central Java from the Preanger
Regencies to the mountains of the Teng'ger Region, one cannot fail to be
struck by the remarkable change in the appearance of the natives. The
Soendanese of the West may not have the resource and thoughtfulness of
the people of the plains, the Javanese, but they have brightness and
vivacity which make them more attractive. Their bent of mind is
reflected in the bright colours of their dress. In this and other
respects, they resemble the Japanese women. In the plains, sombreness of
dress is a characteristic--the browns of Mid-Java changing to an almost
universal dark blue in the west, reminding the traveller of the Chinese
and the inhabitants of the southern Japanese islands.
Everywhere, the male Javanese carry the kris or native knife in the
girdle. There is much variety in the blades, handles and sheaths of
those weapons, real native damascene blades costing considerable sums.
One taking a superficial trip through the island is at a loss to
understand why the natives should be armed. According to all accounts,
they are a peaceably inclined people, and give their Dutch rulers very
little trouble; and if they were at all quarrelsome amongst themselves,
the handy weapon would be a source of grave danger. In course of time,
perhaps, the knife will disappear as did the sword of civilised Europe a
century or more ago. A traffic in Birmingham manufactured krises and
knives is done at Djocjakarta and Soerakarta, as well as at Samarang,
Sourabaya and Batavia, and anyone who wishes to make a collection of
native weapons should be careful to have the assistance of an expert to
detect the sham from the real.
The same remark applies to the purchase of sarongs. The ordinary sarong
of commerce is manufactured in Lancashire, whence an excellent imitation
of the native manufacture is exported. Tourists are also catered for in
a native block-stamped variety, which is at least a colourable imitation
of the real article. Wherever we went, however, we could see that the
native art had not been lost entirely. Women sit outside their little
huts by the roadside tracing the most elaborate designs in brown and
blue dye upon the cloth with tiny funnel-shaped implements.
This cloth is styled bátik. According to the ground of white, black or
red, it is known as bátik látur púti, bátik látur irang, or bátuk látur
bang. To prepare it to receive the design, the cloth is steeped in rice
water, dried and calendered. The process of the bátik is performed with
hot wax in a liquid state applied by means of the chánting. The
chánting is usually made of silver or copper, and holds about an ounce
of the liquid. The tube is held in the hand at the end of a small stick,
and the pattern is traced on both sides of the tightly drawn suspended
cloth. When the outline is finished, such portions of the cloth as are
intended to be preserved white, or to receive any other colour than the
general field or ground, are carefully covered in like manner with the
liquid wax, and then the piece is immersed in whatever coloured dye may
be intended for the ground of the pattern. The parts covered with wax
resist the operation of the dye, and when the wax is removed, by being
steeped in hot water till it melts, are found to remain in their
original condition. If other colours are to be applied, the process is
gone over again. It will thus be seen that a considerable amount of
skill is required. In the ordinary course, the process of the bátik
occupies about ten days for common patterns, and from fifteen to
seventeen days for the finer and more variegated.
Some of the sarongs worn by the native aristocracy and the European
ladies are not only beautiful in pattern and working but most expensive
in price.
In our excursions in the neighbourhood of Djocjakarta, we had ample
opportunity of seeing the industry of the Javanese. Wherever one went,
there were long processions of stunted women bravely carrying enormous
burdens on their backs, often with a baby slung in the slandang astride
the hip. The cheery, coquettish look of the Soendanese was absent here.
All seemed to be borne down by the seriousness of a strenuous physical
life. No songs arose from the fields; scarcely a head was raised from
the laborious planting of tufts of paddy roots as our kreta rattled
past. While mothers toiled in the fields, children played near the
roadways, or now and then assisted their parents.
We were surprised to see in these fertile plains how prevalent goitre is
amongst the women. In the drive from Moentilan to the Boro Budur, at
least one in twenty were so afflicted. We commented on this fact to a
native official while waiting for our tram at Moentilan, and he assured
us that it is remarkably prevalent amongst the common people, but that
the men do not suffer in the same proportion as the women. The disease
is named "kondo" by the Javanese. We do not know whether any scientific
investigations into the disease have been carried out by the Dutch
officials; but it would be interesting to know why it should be so
prevalent in this area. Goitre is usually associated with people living
in mountainous regions, yet we never noticed it in the Preanger and
scarcely at all on the mountains of East Java.
Since the above was written, we have had an opportunity of consulting
Sir Stamford Raffles' History of Java. He found goitre prevalent in both
Java and Sumatra, but is careful to explain that it was observed in
certain mountainous districts. The natives ascribed it to the quality of
the water, but, says Sir Stamford, "there seems good ground for
concluding that it is rather to be traced to the atmosphere. In proof of
this, it may be mentioned that there is a village near the foot of the
Teng'ger mountains, in the eastern part of the island, where every
family is afflicted by this malady, while in another village, situated
at a greater elevation, and through which the stream descends which
serves for the use of both, there exists no such deformity. These wens
are considered hereditary in some families, and seem thus independent of
situation. A branch of the family of the present Adipati of Bandung
(1811-15) is subject to them, and it is remarkable that they prevail
chiefly among the women of the family. They never produce positive
suffering nor occasion early death, and may be considered rather as
deformities than diseases. It is never attempted to remove them."
[Illustration: SULTAN OF DJOCJA'S SOLDIERS.]
We reached Djocjakarta in the ordinary way through Maos. It may be that
circumstances may take the traveller off the beaten track, and we are
indebted to a friend for the following brief description of the trip
from Samarang to Djocja over the mountains:--
"The usual journey from Samarang to Djocjakarta is made by way
of Solo (Soerakarta), but the route is devoid of interest, the
railway running through low country under rice cultivation. I
would suggest the far more interesting route via Willem I.
Starting at 5.57 a.m. or 8.17 a.m., Djocja is reached at 2.16
p.m. or 5.10 p.m. The 10.50 a.m. train, I found, went only as
far as Magelang, so I started at 2.9 p.m., and, after a
delightful run, reached Kedoeng Djattie, a fine junction
station, where we changed cars. The next two hours' run is
through foot hills, strips of forest and lovely vegetation,
glimpses being obtained every little while of pleasant valleys,
rice fields and distant hills as the train climbed up to Willem
I. This point we reached about 5 p.m., in time to enjoy the
refreshing cool breezes and to admire the beautiful view and
sunset on a small mountain opposite the hotel.
"Next morning, I caught the train (8.54 a.m.,) which leaves
Samarang at 5.57, and after a short run reached a station where
our engine was changed for one working on the cog-wheel system,
the grade being too heavy for the ordinary locomotive. The train
winds and circles round hills cultivated, for the most part, to
their summits. Upwards we climbed till we were in the clouds and
the air became quite bracing and invigorating. Tiffin should be
ordered through the guard before starting from Willem I., and it
will be handed into the train.
"It was about one o'clock when we reverted to the ordinary
locomotive, and began the descent to Djocja, through Magelang.
To anyone who has to visit Samarang, I would recommend this
trip."
The principal sight of Djocja itself is the Water Castle. This trip need
not occupy more than a couple of hours, and its appreciation depends
upon the taste of the visitor. Earthquakes have played havoc with the
buildings, but sufficient is left in the way of tunnels, grottoes,
bathing ponds and dungeon-like rooms. Everywhere are signs of decay and
desolation; nevertheless, it is possible, with a little knowledge of
comparatively recent Javan history, to reconstruct the scenes enacted
here in the days when the native sultans were more powerful in the land
than they are to-day. For a small fee, a native pilots one through the
carved archways, underground halls and subways and cells. As one stands
in the large banqueting hall, it is possible to conjure up the
ceremonials of a past age, and, in the mind's eye, to group retainers
round the Sultan and the members of his harem, while gaudily dressed
courtesans sang and danced for the entertainment of "the quality."
The Health Resort of East Java.
Tosari on the Teng'ger mountains was the goal of our travels. We were
anxious to escape from the heat of the plains, for the sun had now
crossed the Equator, Java was in its summer season and the rains might
come any day. From Djocjakarta, we should have arrived in Sourabaya in
time for riz-tafel, but the wash-out at Moentilan still caused a delay
of traffic and we were two hours late in reaching our destination.
Sourabaya is the most important port and business centre of Java, but
this fact notwithstanding many of the foreign business houses still
maintain their headquarters in Batavia. As a place of residence, each
has its good points, and those who have lived in both are divided in
preference. Possibly we were not in either long enough to form a lasting
opinion, but we stayed so long in Sourabaya that we prefer Batavia. It
would be sheer ingratitude, however, not to acknowledge the hearty
welcome we received from the British colony in Sourabaya, and the
personal help of members of that community. Here where the principal
business of Java is conducted, as elsewhere throughout the Far East, it
was satisfying to one's patriotism to see the respect in which British
commercial enterprise and integrity is held by native and European
alike, and that the most cordial good feeling exists on all sides.
To reach Tosari, the visitor proceeds first of all by train to
Pasoeroean, leaving Sourabaya (Goebeng Station) at 6.42 a.m., and
reaching Pasoeroean at 8.23. Here a single-pony carriage is engaged
(two and a-half guilders) as far as Pasrepan, where a change is made to
a two-pony carriage (three guilders). This conveyance takes one to
Poespo, 2,600 feet above sea-level. A halt is made for tiffin in this
delightful little hotel, whose pleasant looking proprietress,
unfortunately, does not speak English. The remainder of the journey to
the Sanatorium (6,000 feet) is made in the saddle or by sedan chair. Of
this ride and a subsequent excursion we have painful recollections, but
anyone accustomed to the saddle will enjoy this ascent through mountain
scenery and vegetation, and even more the morning trip down to Poespo,
through the forest, when returning to Sourabaya.
Tosari has been described as the Darjeeling of the Netherland Indies.
Here within four days' journey from Singapore, one may obtain a complete
change of climate, and if there were only more frequent direct steamer
communication between Singapore and Sourabaya, we predict with
confidence that Tosari would become a favourite health resort for those
who live on the northern side of the Equator. The rooms are comfortable,
the food is good, the facilities for amusements at nightfall are ample,
the walks and excursions are inexhaustible and the views are
magnificent. The tariff (seven guilders per day--$4.90 in Singapore
currency) is higher than that of any other hotel in Java, but those who
intend to stay for a fortnight or more could probably arrange more
favourable terms.
There is a resident doctor who has graduated in the Schools of Tropical
Medicine, and when we were in Tosari there were visitors from Burma,
Siam, Singapore, Penang, and all parts of Java, recruiting from malaria
and other ailments peculiar to Far Eastern residence. But they were not
all invalids, and formed a bright, companionable party.
The Teng'gerese who people this mountainous region are a race apart.
Their religion is a mixture of paganism and Buddhism, and, though
reputed to be kind and honest, they are an ignorant, uncouth, uncultured
people. They dwell _en famille_ in large square houses without windows,
in isolated kampongs on the projecting ridges of the mountains. The door
of each house is on the side nearest the Bromo crater, and as if
tradition gave them cause to fear another destructive eruption they
worship this volcano. Dirt prevails everywhere, and in consequence of
the cool climate and the scarcity of water they seldom bathe, a fact
that is very noticeable after one's acquaintance with the people of the
plains.
To go to Tosari without seeing the Bromo is tantamount to going to Rome
without entering St. Peter's. The journey is made on pony or in a sedan
chair, by way of the Moengal Pass and the Dasar or Sand Sea, which is in
reality the enormous Teng'ger crater, inside of which there are three
more craters, the Bromo being the only one showing signs of activity.
A better view and more impressive is obtained from the Penandjaan Pass,
a description of which is given in the next chapter.
Another trip worth making is to the lakes in the saddle-back mountain
between the Teng'ger and the Seméroe. From this high plateau, the ascent
of the Seméroe or Mahameroe is fairly easy and will prove attractive to
those who are fond of mountaineering. It is the highest volcano in Java
and has a perfect cone. The crater, from which smoke and ashes are
constantly ejected, is not on the summit but is formed on the south-east
side.
The visitor who does not wish to retrace his steps to Poespo and
Pasrepan may return to the plains by way of Malang or Lawang through
beautiful sub-tropical and tropical mountain scenery.
Sunrise at the Penandjaan Pass.
When a sharp rap came to our door at two o'clock in the morning to
summon us for a ride to the Penandjaan Pass, we repented the rash
promise to carry out this over-night project to see the sun rise. It was
no use to curl one's-self up under two heavy blankets and pretend that
we had not heard. The "jongus" was insistent. Up we had to get, effect a
hasty toilet in ice-cold water by the aid of a flickering lamp, and step
into the outer darkness and mount the pony waiting beside our bedroom
door.
Unfamiliar constellations shed a cold light on the hillside.
Our thickest clothing was penetrated by a searching though slight
breeze, as our little rat of a pony, guided by the syce, clambered
bravely up the brae that led through Tosari village.