down a mountain path that sank into a crater-like ravine. It was like a
descent into the infernal regions. Disaster seemed inevitable. A mistake
by the pony or the slightest lurch would have precipitated us down some
hundreds of feet; but the guide knew his way and so did the pony, as,
sure-footed and cautious, it picked its way, first on one side of the
road and then on the other, descending, descending, lower and lower,
where the pale light failed to penetrate. The hill on the other side
loomed so high that one could not believe there was a way out. Pit-pat,
pit-pat went the pony with steady step, now on hard road now on yielding
lava mud, across fragile bamboo bridges covered with bamboo lathing,
down, down, down till at last we reach the ford. The seat was not an
easy one for the unaccustomed rider, whose hands and feet were chilled
almost beyond feeling by the unwonted cold. But it was arm-chair ease
compared with the experience on the other side, as the pony pluckily
pounded his way up the zigzag path for the summit of the hill. How
either guide or pony could see a path will ever remain a puzzle. The
over-hanging vegetation blotted out any recognisable landmarks; not even
the ribbon of a road was visible to the eye. But the top was reached,
and believing we were now on the level road for Penandjaan we tried to
open up conversation with our guide.
It is not easy to carry on a connected conversation with a native of the
Teng'ger when one's Malay vocabulary consists of about twenty words--and
half of these numerals--and the native's knowledge of the English
language, as one soon learned, consists entirely of "Yes" and "No." Yet,
it is wonderful what one will attempt in the dark--the loneliness was
so overpowering that one felt compelled to break the awesome silence.
[Illustration: ROAD TO TOSARI.]
But the conversation soon flagged, and one was thrown back upon one's
own thoughts. And as the road once again shaped for another crater-like
ravine, plunged in inkier darkness and shrouded in solemn stillness,
thoughts surged rapidly through one's mind. The first thing that had
attracted our attention as we mounted our pony was the delicious smell
of roses in the grounds of the Tosari Hotel. Since nothing could be
learned from the syce, nothing could be seen, nothing could be heard
except the occasional bark of a dog from a remote hut on the hillside or
the tuneful tingle of a bell on the neck of the uneasy occupant of an
unseen cow-shed, one tried to learn something by the sense of smell. At
first, the morning air was snell and sharp; there was an earthy aroma
which suggested nothing but decaying vegetable matter, but soon it was
succeeded by a pungent penetrating odour which made one wonder whence
its source. This pungency remained for the remainder of the morning's
ride, almost to the top of the mountain pass, some 9000 feet above
sea-level, and we ascertained on our return that it proceeded from the
enormous cabbages grown by the mountaineers for the markets on the
plains of East Java.
As we plunged deeper into the forest, it was impossible to make out more
than a dull outline of a white jacket and the white shoulder of our
piebald pony. Had we not known that the guide was there, we might have
wondered how the wonderful jacket succeeded in floating through space.
The pony had no head to our sight; the reins we held in our hand might
have been dispensed with so far as they acted as a guide to the pony,
who picked his own foothold and followed the white jacket. With painful
persistence, he picked the edge of the precipitous declivity which was
lost in the bottomless abyss.
Once only we lost our way. Turn after turn was negotiated safely, first
down into the bottom of the ravine and through the mountain torrent,
then up the hillside again, mysterious zigzag after zigzag, and one had
become reconciled to the jolting motion of the pony, the steady tramp of
his tiny hoofs, and his heavy breathing where the path was steepest, and
gave one's-self up to reverie. How terrible, we thought, must have been
the scene on the mountain slopes when the enormous craters of the
Teng'ger range were belching forth their death-dealing streams of lava,
their showers of ashes and stones and choking sulphurous fumes! How
insignificant was man before the powerful agencies of Nature! How bright
were the occasional stars one saw wherever there was a break in the
trees that lined our path! How wonderful that each of those stars, those
planets, might be peopled by beings puzzling over the disputed facts of
the Creation, as we were; who might also be worrying over a future
existence and the redemption of a sinful people; who might be
endeavouring to solve labour problems and trade disputes and discussing
whether free trade or preferential tariffs were best for a nation's
welfare! Was there somebody up in one of those other planets on a pony's
back, as we were, robbing one's-self of much-needed rest to reach a
mountain top to see the sun rise?
These and other thoughts kept recurring to one when, suddenly, as if it
had been shot, the pony planted his forefeet and refused to follow the
guiding lead of the syce.
We had made a wrong turning and the syce all but slipped over a
precipice. Had it not been for the pony's instinct, all three of us
would have been plunged into Eternity, and some of the problems of the
previous moment might have been solved.
Out came the syce's matches, as he clung to the pony's bridle. Not
nearly so bright as the lambent phosphorescence from the fireflies which
flickered across our path, the puny light of the match was sufficient
for the guide to pick up the ribbon-like path, and once more we were on
our way to the top.
Three deep ravines were traversed before we made the final upward
movement, and then Nature's lamp lights were being shut out in hundreds
at a time as the soft dawn began to diffuse itself. With Dawn's left
hand in the sky, we thought of Omar Khayyam's stanza, and felt impelled
to cry out to the sleepers in the hollow--
Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
And lo! the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light,
The dawn had been preluded by the awakening chirrups of songsters in the
wood. A shriller note was struck by some feathered Daphnis piping to his
Chloe. Deep down in the valleys and in the villages perched perilously
on projecting ledges of the mountain, faint twinkling lights began to
appear, and the lowing of the cattle and the answering and re-echoed
crowing of rival poultry-yards sent the thoughts back to Homeland scenes
some 10,000 miles away.
As we stood on the wall of the enormous crater, overlooking the Sand
Sea, and watched the long shafts of golden light shoot up to the zenith
from behind the mountain peaks to the East, we felt that our ride had
not been in vain.
To be abroad at early dawn in the tropics is to enjoy the most
delightful period of the day. An English essayist has well expressed the
exhilaration one feels: "There is something beautiful in the unused day,
something beautiful in the fact that it is still untouched, unsoiled."
Only those who have stood on the hill tops, far removed from the haunts
of men, have any true idea of the grandeur of Nature and the
insignificance of man.
The sun rose speedily in the full power of his golden radiance to paint
the landscape. There was no transition. Out of the darkness there rose a
view, enormous, diversified, impressive.
Miles away on the west, the five summits of the Ardjeono had been the
first to reflect the rays hidden from us. Penanggoenan's sugar-loaf top
soon caught them up and passed them on to Kawi's three lofty peaks. To
the south, was the Seméroe, Java's loftiest volcano; to the east, the
Yang Plateau; to the north, the sea and the island of Madoera. We could
trace the coast-line 9,000 feet below, away westward beyond Sourabaya,
where white-crested surf beat silently upon the streak of yellow sand.
The vast plains of East Java showed a pattern of variegated colour,
which stretched out to the cultivated slopes of the hills. Mountain
hamlets and villages on the plains sent out blue vapours from morning
fires. The rivers were distinguishable by their leafy fringe as much as
by the reflection of the blue sky overhead. Between us and the Yang
Plateau, there were rolling billows of white cloud, tipped by the
colours from the sun's spectrum.
But it was the panorama spread out like a model beneath our feet which
arrested attention and impressed one most. We stood on the edge of an
enormous crater--the Teng'ger--with a circumference of fifteen miles.
Where, in prehistoric times, flames and ashes and lava had boiled and
belched, there was now a sea of yellow sand, out of which stood other
three volcano peaks--the Battok, the Bromo, and the Widodarèn--showing
purple in the morning light. The Battok is a perfect cone, the
lava-covered sides standing out in clearly defined ridges like the
buttresses of a Gothic structure. The Bromo is the only one of the three
now active. As we gaze down, we are startled by a deep groaning noise,
and out of the wide crater mouth there issues a mass of grey smoke and
ashes laden and streaked with fire. Simultaneously, a huge mass of
cloud, cruciform in shape, is shot up hundreds of feet into the air from
the Semeroe. It rests a few seconds above the bare, ash-strewn cone, and
then drifts heavily to westward, to make way for the next eruption.
[Illustration: SAND SEA, WITH BROMO AND SEMEROE.]
These indications of Nature's activity in the crucible at the earth's
centre make one reflect on the possible consequences of the next great
convulsion, and the fate that is in store for those intrepid villagers
who have perched their primitive huts on the very edge of the Teng'ger
crater. With these reflections, we turn away from one of the most solemn
and impressive sights it has been our privilege to witness, silently
mount our pony and retrace our steps for the snugly-situated Hotel at
Tosari, no longer regretting, nay, rather thankful, that we had resolved
and achieved our resolution to climb the Penandjaan Pass to see the sun
rise.
[Illustration: SMOKE PLUME--THE SMÉROE.]
Hotels and Travelling Facilities
Before going to Java, the tourist ought to make himself acquainted with
the outlines of the history of the island since it came under European
domination. Half the charm of European travel, if one is something more
than a mere unreflective globetrotter, lies in the historic associations
of the places visited, and it is the comparative absence of this quality
which robs new countries of the interests they would otherwise possess
for educated people. Scenery alone surfeits the appetite.
In Java, as in most Oriental countries, the traveller feels that he is
moving in an atmosphere of antiquity, and though it has become a
misnomer to refer to "The Unchanging East," it is borne in upon one that
in the large group of islands comprised in the Philippine and Malay
Archipelagoes, from Luzon in the north to Java in the south, from Samar
in the east to Sumatra in the west, centuries of western contact has
left but a slight impress upon the characters of the people. Changes
there are, undoubtedly. Modern civilisation has advanced like a
resistless wave and gradually engulfed an older civilisation, but here
in Java one feels that the change has not been so decisive; and railways
and canals and cultivation notwithstanding, the difference in general
advancement between the Javanese and the Japanese is most marked, and
even the Chinese, conservative though they are in most ways, have more
character and look more hopeful soil for the reception and development
of western ideas.
A solid foundation for the trip to Java may be laid by perusing Sir
Stamford Raffles' history, the second edition of which, published in
1830, will be found in Raffles Library. It covers the whole period from
the time the Portuguese arrived in the Farther East in 1510 to the
British occupation. Making Malacca his headquarters, Albuquerque sent
various expeditions to the surrounding islands, and Antonio de Abrew was
his emissary to Java and the Moluccas. The Dutch appeared in 1595,
obtaining their first footing in the East Indies at Bantam, the English
East India Company establishing a factory at the same place in 1602.
Of the capture of Java by the British troops brief details have already
been given.
An interesting account of "The Conquest of Java" is given by Captain
William Thorn, a Dragoon officer, who served on the staff of one of the
brigadiers. It was written in 1815 while he was on his way back to
England, and is so plentifully illustrated with field maps as to add
interest to one's visit to Batavia and Buitenzorg and the seaports of
Samarang and Sourabaya.
We are indebted to Dr. Hanitsch, the Curator, for the following list of
books on Java in Raffles Library:--
The Dutch in Java; 1904, by Clive Day.
Java, Facts and Fancies; 1905, by Augusta de Wit.
Facts and Fancies about Java; 1908, by Augusta de Wit.
Life in Java, 2 vols; 1864, by W. B. d'Almeida.
Voyage Round the World; 1870, by Marquis de Beauvoir.
With the Dutch in the East; 1897, by W. Cool.
Geschiedenis der Nederlanders of Java; 1887, by M. L. Deventer.
From Jungle to Java; 1897, by Arthur Keyser.
Java; 2 vols., 1861, by J. W. Money.
Java; 1830, by Sir Stamford Raffles.
Führer auf Java; 1890, by L. F. M. Schulze.
The Conquest of Java; 1815, by William Thorn.
A Visit to Java; 1893, by W. B. Worsfold.
Rambles in Java; 1853, (anon.).
The Hindu Ruins in the Plain of Parambanan; 1901, by Dr. I.
Groneman.
The Tjandi-Bäräbudur in Central Java; 1901, by Dr. I. Groneman.
Bôrô-Boedoer op het Eiland Java; 1873, by F. C. Wilsen, 2 vols.
In addition to a selection from the above-named, the intending visitor
should read "Java: The Garden of the East" by Miss E. R. Scidmore, 1898,
and the Rev. G. M. Reith's "A Padre in Partibus" will be found
entertaining.
Much must depend upon the notions of the tourist as to the cost of a
trip in Java, but our experience is that Java is the cheapest country we
have ever visited. The hotels are superior to those found in the
interior of Japan, and, as the guilder, which has a value of 70 cents in
Singapore currency or about 1s. 7¾d. in English currency, may be taken
as the unit of value for travelling purposes, our readers will see at a
glance what a fortnight or three weeks' trip is likely to cost from the
following hotel rates:--
Hotel des Indes, Batavia 6 guilders per day
Hotel Bellevue, Buitenzorg 6 " "
Hotel, Sindanglaya 6 " "
Hotel Garoet 6 " "
Gov't. Hotel, Maos 4 " "
Hotel Mataram, Djocjakarta 5 " "
Hotel Simpang, Sourabaya 6 " "
Sanitorium, Tosari 7 " "
Hotel du Pavilion, Samarang 5 " "
There are a few extras, and the servants are civilised enough to expect
small tips. Charges for liquors are invariably reasonable.
The hotels are scrupulously clean and the accommodation excellent, and
in a tropical country one appreciates the facilities for bathing.
In his delightful poem of "Lucile," Owen Meredith wrote:--
We may live without poetry, music and art;
We may live without conscience, and live without heart;
We may live without friends; we may live without books;
But civilised man cannot live without cooks.
He may live without books,--what is knowledge but grieving?
He may live without hope,--what is hope but deceiving?
He may live without love,--what is passion but pining?
But where is the man that can live without dining?
Here the poet leaves the realms of poetic fantasy to record a simple
fact of everyday life--one which is appreciated by every man and woman
irrespective of nationality or temperament. As in all other matters
pertaining to the comfort of the European in the tropics, the Dutch, in
the matter of food, seem to us to have achieved better results than we
have in the British Colonies. The "riz-tafel" may not appeal to the
English palate, but there is no lack of clean, wholesome dishes, and
side dishes that make us wonder at the toleration of the traveller with
the Indian and Colonial caravanserai. The tourist who visits Java after
traversing India will be agreeably surprised at the difference in favour
of the Dutch Colony in this respect.
In the matter of the personal attention to their guests by the
management of some of Hotels in the interior, and the supply of
information, there could easily be an improvement, and doubtless there
will be a great change when tourist traffic becomes more general, as it
promises to do in the near future. Our own experience was that we were
left, almost invariably, to the tender mercies of the servants, and as
one's Malay was limited this led to avoidable inconvenience.
Nothing, however, could exceed the courtesy and attention of the
management at the Hotel des Indes, in Batavia, and the Hotel du Pavilion
in Samarang, and the Manager of the Hotel at Sindanglaya.
We have already mentioned Stamm and Weijns Restaurant in Batavia.
Coupled with it for excellence of table is Grimm's famous restaurant in
Sourabaya.
This year, thanks to the efforts of some of the leading hotel
proprietors, the government of Netherlands India has awakened to the
possibilities of Java as a country for tourists. Co-operating with the
Hotels and steam-ship companies, special inducements were held out to
visitors during the months of May and June, in the way of reduced fares,
and the success of the venture will doubtless lead to its continuance.
The Koninklyke Paketvaart Maatschappij (Ship's Agency, late J. Daendels
and Co.) issues tickets at single-fare rates to Batavia and Sourabaya,
the fare to Batavia and back being $45; to Sourabaya and back $63; and
to Batavia and along the Coast Ports to Sourabaya and back to Singapore
(sixteen days on board ship) $74. The tickets are available by the
steamers of the Royal Nederland Line and the Rotterdamsche Lloyd.
Travel by rail throughout the Island is cheap. For the convenience of
visitors with limited time to devote to Java, a tourist ticket has been
arranged. This may be obtained from the Steamship Company in Singapore.
The price is $40 (Singapore currency). The tour laid down by the coupons
covers the whole of Java from Tanjong Priok, the port of Batavia, to the
easternmost end of the island beyond Sourabaya on the way to Tosari and
Bromo. Buitenzorg and the Preanger health resorts may be visited on the
tickets, the famous Hindu ruins near Djocjakarta, and the health resorts
of Eastern Java. The journey may be broken wherever the tourist cares to
stay, and the ticket is available for sixty days.
Directions are printed on the ticket in English in regard to baggage and
other matters, and a small outline map is a useful adjunct.
Throughout the island, the carriages for hire are execrable. The
four-pony victoria which took us from Djocjakarta to the Buddhist ruins
at Parambanan had not gone half a mile when one of the wheels came off,
and we were lucky to escape without serious damage. It will always
remain a marvel to us how the ramshackle kreta held together which took
us from Buitenzorg to Sindanglaya, over the Poentjak Pass, and we are
astonished that the Dutch authorities, who are exacting in other
respects, do not exercise a wholesome supervision over the ponies
employed in these cross-country carts and carriages, for a more wretched
collection of horseflesh could scarcely be imagined.
We have already commented on the Toelatings Kaart. This relic of a past
age, which did not add much to the revenue, and impressed one
unfavourably with a rigid officialism at the port of entry that did not
obtrude itself upon one's notice in the interior, may now be avoided by
the traveller registering at the Tourist Bureau. In our own case, we
were never called upon to produce the kaart.
The general impression left by one's visit to Java is the excessive
cleanliness of town and country and the widespread cultivation. There
are, of course, black spots in the towns; but they are as nothing to the
traveller who has perambulated the native quarters of any British Colony
in the Far East. When we think of the millions of dollars Hongkong has
expended to cope with filth-created plagues and to reduce the native
rookeries of China town, it fills us with the highest admiration for
Dutch administration in Java. The Government of the Straits Settlements
is entering upon a similar campaign to rectify past sins against the
laws of sanitation and hygiene, and hundreds of thousands of dollars
might have been available for other purposes had the Chinese been
handled as the Dutch handle them in Batavia, Samarang and Sourabaya. It
may be overdoing the cult for whitewash to whiten the walls of every
bridge and the stack of every sugar mill in the country, but it is
pleasing to the Europeans to see that one nation has been successful in
carrying its ideas of cleanliness into the tropics and in making the
Oriental conform to the ordinary laws for the protection of the health
of the common people.
To those of our readers who may be induced to visit Java, we would
tender a few words of advice.
If it is intended to compress a tour of the principal places we have
noted into a fortnight's holiday, travel, if possible, to Sourabaya, and
go first of all to Tosari. After a few days there, Djocjakarta should be
made the headquarters for a two or three days' inspection of the
Buddhist ruins, and then Bandoeng could be made a halting place while a
decision is arrived at as to whether Sindanglaya, Soekaboemi or Garoet
is to be visited next before going on to Buitenzorg and Batavia. We
recommend this course because there is a more frequent service of
steamers between Batavia and Singapore, and by ascertaining the sailing
dates while at some of the Preanger health resorts one is able to time
one's arrival at Batavia and so avoid the heat of the seaport.
We have painted Java in rosy colours because we found it beautiful, the
people companionable and the conditions agreeable. It is possible that
others may go over our tracks without deriving a tithe of the enjoyment.
No one should travel unless he has a genius for travel and a ready
adaptability to prevailing conditions. He should bear in mind that it is
he who is the odd piece in the machinery, and that unless he adjusts
himself to the other working pieces he will only have himself to blame
if things do not run smoothly. If Java is visited in the right spirit,
we have not the least doubt that the traveller will be delighted with
all he sees and experiences, and will come away with an assured
conviction that it was no exaggeration which styled the island "The
Garden of the East."
[Map: JAVA.]
Transcriber's Notes:
Inconsistencies in the hyphenation of words preserved. (court-yard,
courtyard; over-night, overnight)
Pg. 52, the phrase: "collection of Buddas". The author might have meant
"collection of Buddhas", as "Buddha" is used elsewhere in the text.
However the author's original spelling is preserved.
Pg. 55, "daning" changed to "dancing". (and maidens dancing.)
Pg. 63, the title "tivan" is also spelled "tavan" in two instances in
the preceding paragraphs. As it is unclear which spelling the author
intended, the original spelling is preserved in all cases.
Pg. 70, unusual time expression "2.9 p.m." The original text is
preserved. (so I started at 2.9 p.m., and, after)
Pg. 74, duplicated word "at" removed. (reaching Pasoeroean at 8.23)
Pg. 90, text contains the expression "1/7¾d" which, for clarity, has
been rendered as "1s. 7¾d." (or about 1s. 7¾d. in English currency)
In the original text, the author was inconsistent with respect to
whether the "ae" ligature was used in the word "archæological". This
inconsistency has been preserved.