BATAVIA.
Tanjong Priok--_Sadoes_--Batavia--Business
quarter--Telephoning--Chinese Campong--Weltevreden--
Waterloo Plain--Peter Elberfeld's house--Raffles
and Singapore.
When the prosperity of the Dutch East India Company was at its
height, the city of Batavia[9] was justly entitled the "Queen of
the East." Apart from the fact that this place was the centre and
head-quarters of the company, it was the emporium through which the
whole commerce of the East passed to and from Europe. The Dutch
possessions of Ceylon, the Cape of Good Hope, and the Moluccas
depended for their supplies on Java. Not only were the European
imports, iron, broadcloth, glass-ware, velvets, wines, gold lace,
furniture, and saddlery destined for these settlements received
here in the first instance, but similar imports intended for China,
Cochin, Japan, and the Malay islands were also reshipped from this
port into the native boats which conveyed them to those several
countries. Similarly, the wealth of China and the East was first
collected upon the wharfs of Batavia before it was finally
despatched to the various ports of Europe and America.
[Footnote 9: "Not many years later (_i.e._ than 1602, the date
of Wolfert's victory over the Portuguese Admiral Mendoza), at
the distance of a dozen leagues from Bantam, a congenial swamp
was fortunately discovered in a land whose volcanic peaks rose
two miles in the air, and here a town duly laid out with canals
and bridges, and trim gardens and stagnant pools, was baptized
by the ancient and well-beloved name of Good Meadow, or Batavia,
which it bears to this day" (Motley, "United Netherlands").
Since the foundation of the town, the seashore has silted up to
such an extent that the original harbour of Batavia, in which the
Dutch East Indiamen of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries lay
at anchor, has been abandoned, and a new port has been constructed
at a point six miles to the eastward. The harbour works at Tanjong
Priok, as the present port of Batavia is called, and the railway
which connects the port and town of Batavia, are one among many
improvements set on foot in the island since the inauguration of a
public-works policy by the Colonial Government in 1875. Ocean
steamships of 4000 and 5000 tons burden can now be berthed at these
wharfs, and there is a constant and convenient service of trains
between the port and the town. Even to-day the presence of
superannuated Dutch warships and quaint craft from China and the
Malay islands relieves the monotony of the vast hulls of the
steamships of the British India, the Messageries Maritimes, and the
Netherlands India Companies.
I was agreeably surprised at the size and convenience of the
station at Tanjong Priok. The booking clerk, who was, I think, a
Chinaman, seemed to know the ways of strangers, and I and my
fellow-passengers had no difficulty in taking tickets for Batavia.
The line passed through groves of cocoa-nut palms, intersected with
canals. Everything was quaint and interesting, the canal boats,
the buffalo ploughs, the gaily-feathered birds,--all revealed a new
and delightful phase of life and nature. We were immensely struck
with the appearance of a native cutting grass. He had a hooked
blade of steel fastened to a long handle, forming an instrument not
unlike a cleek or other golf-stick. This he slowly swung round his
head, and each time it touched the ground cleared about three
inches of grass. The thing looked too absurd. We all wanted to get
out and ask him how long he expected to be mowing that strip of
grass by the canal-side.
While I was on board ship I had been fortunate enough to borrow a
Malay phrase-book from a man who had visited the Archipelago
before, and during the voyage to Batavia I had amused myself with
copying out some of the phrases and committing them to memory. On
landing I found these few phrases extremely useful, and I mention
the fact by way of encouragement, and in case any other traveller
should be inclined similarly to beguile the tedium of the voyage.
He will have his reward.
When Mr. Wallace visited Java in 1861, he tells us he found no
conveyances in Batavia except "handsome two-horse carriages,"
costing something under a sovereign a day. He justly complains of
the expensiveness of these vehicles, and also of the cost of the
post-carriages which then formed the sole means of locomotion in
the interior of the island. To-day things are greatly improved. To
say nothing of the railway system which connects the large towns in
the east and west, Batavia is provided with an excellent tramway,
and with a capital supply of small vehicles called _sadoes_.
[Illustration: THE KING'S PLAIN, BATAVIA. _Page_ 67.]
The sadoe is the hansom of Java. It is a small two-wheeled
carriage, in which the seats are placed back to back (hence the
name, which is a corruption of dos-à-dos), and which is furnished
with a square top to keep off the sun. It is drawn by one (or two)
of the sturdy little horses bred in the island. At a pinch these
vehicles will hold four, but two is enough. Ordinarily the driver
sits in front, and the "fare" in the more luxurious seat behind.
Thus weighted the country-breds go at a very smart pace; nor is
there any complaint to be made in respect of the drivers. They are
generally very civil, and their charges are very moderate.
I was told a story which illustrates the docility of the sadoe
drivers, and the cleverness with which they can trace and identify
their "fares."
An English officer from Singapore, whom we will call Brown, was
visiting Batavia, and had occasion, in the course of his visit, to
drive in a sadoe from the old town to a friend's house in
Weltevreden. For some reason or other he became annoyed with the
driver, and, having ejected him, proceeded to drive himself. As it
was night, he soon became entangled in the maze of streets. At last
he reached the large open space called the King's Plain. He was now
close to his destination. The only difficulty was to get rid of the
sadoe. In order to do this he drove into the middle of the plain.
He waited until the horse began to graze quietly, and then "made
tracks" as quickly as might be for his friend's compound.
Ultimately he returned to his hotel. The first thing Brown saw,
when he got up the next morning, was sadoe, driver, and horse
waiting outside his verandah in the courtyard. He grew pale with
thoughts of the police; but no, the driver only wanted his fare,
which was two florins. Having received this, he retired smiling and
contented.
There was a crowd of these sadoes waiting outside the station at
Batavia, in one of which I made my way to the Hôtel der
Nederlanden.
Batavia may be divided (like all Gaul) into three parts. First,
there is the business quarter, the oldest, where the houses are
tall and built in the style still prevalent in the warm countries
of Europe, with balconies and verandahs and widely projecting
eaves, and where the streets are narrow. Then there is the Chinese
Campong, which, with the adjacent streets, occupies the central
portion of the town, containing the bulk of the population closely
packed in their curious dwellings. And, lastly, there is
Weltevreden, the Dutch town, where the officials, the military,
and the merchants reside. The town is traversed from end to end by
the railway, which passes through from Tanjong Priok to Buitenzorg
and Bandong; and by the tramway, which runs from the town gate in
the north to the statue of Meester Cornelis in the south. It is
also divided by the stream called the Kali Bezar, or Great River,
and intersected by numerous canals. The pavements are of red brick,
and the roads covered with a reddish dust; indeed, the prevailing
tone of the whole place is a warm red-brown, varied by salmon-pink
and green masonry, and generously interspersed with bright yellow,
deep crimson, and olive-green foliage, though not unfrequently a
spreading waringin tree or a group of feathery palms overtops the
general mass. Additional colour is given by the natives, who are
clothed in light cottons and silken stuffs of delicate tones and
graceful shapes, carried with an easy carelessness and unfailing
novelty of combination. Sometimes they are gathered into dark brown
masses round the base of some one of the many bridges which span
the river or canals, prepared for the luxury of the tropics--an
afternoon bathe.
[Illustration: BRIDGE LEADING TO THE PAZER BAROE, BATAVIA. _Page_
70.]
All three quarters are possessed of a separate beauty. The
elaborately carved pediments and ponderous doors, the heavy
balconies and eaves of the houses, give an old-world quaintness
to the first, which is enhanced by the crowd of many-shaped and
variously coloured boats that line the quays that front the offices on
either side of the Great River. Nothing could be more delightful than
the setting of the red-tiled roofs, with their dragon-decorated ridges
and parapets, on the wooden trellis fronts and canvas blinds of the
Chinese houses. Weltevreden, too, is not without attractions. The broad
porticoes of dazzling white, with their Ionic columns and marble floors,
are often set in a fair surrounding of green trees. The compounds and
gardens are always verdant, and sometimes radiant with bright-leaved
shrubs and flowers. Especially the broad green-covered squares and the
wide roads arched with noble trees speak of coolness and repose in a hot
and weary land. On the outskirts of the town, along the country roads,
where the cocoa palm and banana plantations begin, are the bamboo
cottages of the Sundanese natives.
But it is after nightfall that this place becomes a veritable
fairyland. The open porticoes of the Dutch houses are seen to be
thronged with gaily dressed people, the ladies often still wearing
the sarong, and looking like Æneas' mother--
"Proved to be a goddess by her stately tread,"
and in harmony with the pillars and pediments about them.
Everywhere lights gleam through foliage, and ever and again,
through an air instinct with electric movement and heavy with
perfumes, strains of music reach the ear from the open doorways, or
are wafted in the distance from one of the numerous military bands,
which are ever "discoursing sweet music" to the society of the
capital. In the centre of the town the native streets look, to the
European eye, like a perpetual festival. Outside the doors are
gathered in groups the various inhabitants--Chinese, Malay, or
Sundanese, some clanging cymbals and other strange instruments of
music, others seated round fires, eating baked cakes or fruits and
other frugal dainties. Meanwhile the streets are alive with the
rush of numerous cahars[10] and sadoes, drawn by the agile native
pony, and with itinerant vendors, who, bearing their baskets
suspended from their shoulders by the _pikulan_, or cross-piece,
each with a lamp fixed to the rearmost basket, flit to and fro
noiselessly on their bare feet.
[Footnote 10: Native carriage much like the sadoe, but never
used by Europeans.]
The business quarter, like the "city" in London, is thronged with
merchants and carriages, carts and coolies, and all the machinery
of commerce, in the daytime, and entirely deserted at night. The
merchants keep their offices open from nine till five, and, in
spite of the great heat, work all through the day, with the
exception of an hour or so for "tiffin." By this arrangement the
early morning and late afternoon, the only time when open-air
exercise is possible, is left available for riding or walking. In
spite of the romantic exterior of the place, Batavia is not
ill-supplied with modern improvements. The tramway system, in
which smoke and heat are avoided by the use of a central boiler
from which steam is taken for the different locomotives, is
especially well suited to the requirements of the climate. The
telephone, again, is in constant use both in offices and private
houses, although the confusion of languages--Malay, Dutch, and
English--makes it a little difficult sometimes to work it. I
remember once asking the landlord of the Hôtel der Nederlanden to
telephone to a man in the town that I was intending to go to
Buitenzorg on the following morning, and the terrible difficulty I
had to get him to convey my name to the clerk at the other end.
After ringing up the central office (which is worked by Malays) and
getting the connection he wanted, he said--
"Mr. X----?"
"No."
"Mr. X---- is not there" (to me).
"All right," I said; "tell the clerk to tell Mr. X----"
But the telephone was now shut off, and the process of connecting
had to be gone through again.
"Tell Mr. X---- What is your name?"
"Worsfold," I said.
"Versfolt?"
"Yes."
"Tell Mr. X---- that Mynheer Versfolt----"
"Who?" (from the other end).
"Mynheer Versfolt."
"Who?"
"Versfolt."
"Who?"
"How you spell it?" (to me).
I spelt it.
"Mynheer V-e-a-s-f-o-l-t. Veasfolt, _Veasfolt_, VEASFOLT."
Here he appealed to a Dutch gentleman who could speak English, and
wrote down the name, W-o-r-s-f-o-l-d.
"Tell Mr. X---- that Mynheer---- Listen, I will spell it--W-o-r,"
etc.
"Oh, never mind; tell him that the Englishman is going to
Buitenzorg to-morrow."
"The English gentleman is going to Buitenzorg to-morrow."
"What Englishman?"
"Mynheer Veasfolt."
"Who?"
"Mynheer Veasfold. I will spell it--W-o-r," etc.
"Yes; what about him?"
"Tell Mr. X---- that Mynheer Veasfolt----"
"Who?"
"Oh, never mind," I said; "Mr. X---- will understand."
But the polite landlord was not satisfied. "It is no trouble; I
will tell him."
Then I went away in haste, as the process had already occupied half
an hour, and I was telephoning to avoid delay. Five minutes later I
passed the bureau. The landlord was still at that wretched
instrument. I hurried by without daring to look up, fearing that I
should be appealed to again. I dared not even ask whether the
message ever reached the office or not.
Beside the town gate--a massive stone arch, with two large iron
images on either side, remnants of early victories over the kings
of Bantam--there are two buildings of interest in this (business)
quarter of the town, the _stadthaus_, or town hall, and the town
church. The former is just such an old Dutch edifice as might be
seen in any of the towns of Holland, standing in a tree-planted
space. In it are the offices of the Resident and the police
authorities. The _landraad_, or county court, also holds its
sittings here; and on the stone terrace in front of the building,
the town guard (a native force armed with lances or picks, and
therefore called "pickiniers") are generally to be seen drilling.
The town church is across the river, on the road to Tanjong Priok.
It is given up to a half-caste congregation, but its walls are
lined with memorial tablets of former governors, and there are some
interesting monuments outside. According to a wooden tablet within,
it was built between the years 1693 and 1695 by Pieter Van Hoorn.
It contains some handsome silver candelabra and a richly gilt
pulpit, and in the vestry there are some handsome old chairs.
The native quarter is remarkable for the picturesque medley of its
people and their houses. There are also in the Chinese Campong many
fine private houses, which are furnished with courtyards, and
elaborately finished. In the decorations of the roof the favourite
form of the Chinese dragon is constantly repeated, and
extraordinary effects are produced by a sort of mosaic work, with
which the spaces over the doorways and windows are filled, and
which has a shiny surface almost like majolica ware.
Weltevreden has many handsome buildings, and some which are
interesting. Most of them are grouped round the two great squares
or parks, the King's Plain and the Waterloo Plain. The former is
lined by four magnificent avenues of tamarind trees (_Poinciana
regia_), which form a graceful arch of small-leaved foliage, broken
here and there by a still wider-spreading waringin tree. On the
west side stands the museum, which contains a very perfect
collection of the antiquities and industries of the island. There
is also a library, and new buildings are in course of erection. It
is governed by a directory, which consists in full of eleven
members, who have power to fill up any vacancies which may occur.
There is a president, a vice-president, a secretary, and a
librarian. This latter gentleman is generally to be found at the
museum, and a little conversation with him, and a few hours spent
in the ethnological and antiquarian sections, form the very best
commencement of a tour through the island. Directly opposite the
museum is the Weltevreden station and the great black dome of the
Dutch church. This latter is noticeable as being the place where
the few people who do go to church in Batavia attend, and where
marriages are solemnized after the preliminary ceremony at the
registrar's.
[Illustration: THE WATERLOO PLAIN, BATAVIA. _Page_ 78.]
The Waterloo Plain is not nearly so large as the King's Plain. On
two sides it is lined by officers' bungalows; and the east side is
occupied by a large pile of Government offices, called the Palace,
and by the military club, the _Concordia_. In front of these
buildings there are some prettily laid out gardens, in the centre
of which is a statue of Jan Pietersen Van Koen, the first Dutch
Governor of Batavia. In the centre of the plain is the monumental
pillar from which it takes its name. It consists of a round column
with a square base, some forty feet in height, surmounted by a
Belgian lion. On the base the following inscription is to be read
in plain Roman characters and excellent Latin:--
"In æternam, celeberrimæ diei duodecimæ ante Kalendas Julii
MDCCCXV, memoriam, quo, fortitudine et strenuitate Belgarum
eorumque inclyti ducis Wilhelmi, Frederici, Georgi Ludovici,
principis arausiaci, post atrocissimum in campis Waterlooæ
proelium stratis et undique fugatis Gallorum legionibus PAX
ORBIS RELUXIT...." [William Frederick Charles, Vice-king of
India, erected this monument in the year 1827.] "To the
perpetual memory of that most famous day, _June 20, 1815_, on
which, _by the resolution and activity of the Belgians and their
famous General, William Frederich George Ludovic, Prince of
Luxemburg_, after a terrible conflict on the plains of Waterloo,
when the battalions of the French had been routed and scattered
on every side, the peace of the world dawned once more."
Most people will admit that the facts of the famous victory are scarcely
detailed with sufficient accuracy by the inscription. And, indeed, the
American gentleman who accompanied me on my visit remarked that "he
guessed the _lion_ at the top was on the whole inferior in size to the
_lyin'_ at the bottom of the pillar."
Just outside this plain, and opposite one of the small bridges which
leads into the native street termed _Pazer Baroe_, is the theatre, which
is the most picturesque of the modern buildings of Batavia.
In the main road which leads through that part of the town which covers
the site of the original Sundanese capital, Jakatra (meaning "the work
of victory"), there is a desolate-looking house which the visitor will
do well to include in his archæological investigations. Over the
walled-up entrance of this house the remains of a skull spiked on a pike
are still to be seen. Underneath is a tablet with the following
inscription:--
"_In consequence of the detested memory of Peter Elberfeld, who
was punished for treason, no one shall be permitted to build in
wood or stone, or to plant anything whatsoever, in these grounds
from this time forth for evermore. Batavia, April 22,
1722._"[11]
[Footnote 11: I have taken this inscription as I found it
translated in D'Almeida's "Life in Java," from which I have also
abridged the story.]
This Peter Elberfeld was one of the many natives who conspired from time
to time against the Dutch. According to Raffles, the Dutch
administration of Java was distinguished from the very first by a
"haughty assumption of superiority, for the purpose of overawing the
credulous simplicity of the natives, and a most extraordinary timidity,
which led them to suspect treachery and danger in quarters where they
were least to be apprehended." But large allowances must be made for the
precarious position of a handful of Europeans living in the midst of a
hostile and numerous population. In the case of the conspiracy in
question, the historical outlines of the story are tinctured by an
element of romance.
Peter Elberfeld was a half-caste who had acquired considerable wealth,
but who was possessed by an intense hatred of the Dutch. Uniting the
native princes in a league, he formed a conspiracy to extirpate the
entire white population of the island by concerted massacres. When his
plans were fully formed and ready for execution, an unexpected
circumstance revealed the plot and brought destruction upon the chiefs
of the conspiracy. Elberfeld had a niece living with him, who, so far
from sharing her uncle's hatred of the Dutch race, had secretly fallen
in love with a young Dutch officer. Knowing her uncle's aversion to
their foreign masters and jealousy of their power, she did not dare to
ask for his consent to the marriage. At last she arranged to elope with
her lover. On the night previous to that fixed upon for this event she
was unable to sleep, from a feeling of remorse at conduct which seemed
ungrateful to one who had at least been indulgent and affectionate to
her. As she stood upon the verandah, looking out upon the darkness of
the night, she became conscious that some persons, unseen in the
darkness, were moving around her. She made her way in alarm to her
uncle's chamber, but found it empty. She then went to the dining-room.
The door of this room was shut, but, bending down, she perceived that
the room itself was filled with people, and listened to their whispered
consultations. Overwhelmed with horror at the cruel nature of the
conspiracy, and at the terrible ceremonies by which they bound
themselves at the same time to mutual loyalty and vengeance on their
enemies, she yet hesitated to betray her uncle. Finally love for her
betrothed prevailed, and she communicated the particulars of the
conspiracy to him. He at once informed the Dutch authorities. On the
following night--the night fixed for the elopement--Elberfeld's house
was surrounded, and the conspirators were captured as they were on the
point of departing to their various stations. Most of the native princes
were punished by mutilation, but Elberfeld was reserved for a signal
vengeance. Each of his arms and legs were tied respectively to one of
four horses, which were then driven by lashes of whips in four different
directions. Finally his head was severed from the trunk of his body and
impaled. To this day it remains a ghastly memorial of the turbulent
past. The most unsatisfactory part of the story is the fact that the
girl who had made such sacrifices in her lover's behalf was after all
not permitted to be his bride.
The population of Batavia is, in round numbers, 110,000. Of these 7000
are Europeans. In respect of total population it is inferior to
Soerabaia, the eastern capital, which has 140,000 inhabitants. There
are, however, fewer Europeans at Soerabaia than at Batavia. Samarang,
which ranks third in size, has a population of 70,000.
Sir Stamford Raffles, who was Governor of Java during the short period
of English occupation, was so impressed with the commercial importance
of Batavia, that he persuaded the British Government, upon the cession
of the island, to found a rival port on the opposite side of the
Straits of Malacca. Singapore, the town due to this act of political
foresight, is built upon a small island at the extremity of the Malay
peninsula. Although it is almost exactly on the equator, it enjoys a
more temperate climate than its older rival. It also possesses vastly
superior accommodation for shipping. While Batavia, owing to the silting
of the river already mentioned, is now some miles from the sea,
Singapore possesses two commodious harbours, and has far outstripped the
older town in commercial importance. There is a monument marking the
spot where Lady Raffles was buried in the green glades of the gardens at
Buitenzorg; but the statue of Sir Stamford Raffles looks forth to the
sea from the centre of the broad grass-clad esplanade of Singapore.