THE OLD HEAD-MAN, THE “STRONG ONE,” THE “HANDSOME ONE,” THE “WEAK ONE.”
Delicious the climate, enchanting the scenery, of the islands of the
Indian Archipelago! crowded as they are, from the water’s edge to
their very summit, with luxuriant foliage, and offering to the vision
a richness of tint unknown in other regions; nevertheless, to two
youngsters longing for activity, and the free and natural use of their
legs, a voyage along the coast-line of Java, cribbed, cabined and
confined in a comparatively small craft, and manned by natives, who,
either from ignorance or obstinacy, insist upon hugging the shore and
never losing sight of land, was very monotonous. Thus, when we came in
sight of the cliffs Karong-Bolang, in the province of Baglen, and Prabu
told us that the nests to be found in the bowels of these stupendous
rocks was the end and object of our voyage, we gave three cheers--good,
hearty Yankee cheers. As for Martin, he was in an ecstasy of delight,
for he was about to become a “nest-hunter;” although, by the way,
the full meaning of these words in conjunction neither he nor I then
exactly comprehended.
“It is scarcely daybreak; we shall see flocks of swallows,” said
Prabu, as about that hour the prahu made towards a creek.
“What! the little nest-makers, the purveyors-general to the pig-tailed
mandarins?” asked Martin.
“My young master, yes!” replied Prabu; “for they are night-birds, and
leave not the caves till the sun has disappeared.”
Almost as he spoke, the vessel ran into the midst of a tribe of these
important little feathered animals. They resembled the common swallow
in form and color, but, like Mother Carey’s chickens (the smallest of
the petrel tribe), seemed ever restless, ever in motion. Sometimes they
appeared to skim the water, as if taking up some substance with the
bill from the sea; at others, darting, turning and twisting in the air,
_as if_ after fleet-winged insects; but, curiously enough, although my
brother and I watched very keenly, neither of us could detect anything
in the air, or upon the surface of the sea, upon which they could feed;
so, turning to Prabu, I said, “What _on earth_ do they exist upon?”
“Nothing upon _earth_,” replied Martin, laughing, “but, like
chameleons, upon air.”
“Upon insects,” said Prabu, “and little creatures so minute, that,
although your eyes cannot detect them, float upon the surface of the
sea.”
Then he explained to us that it was by some arrangement of the
digestive organs that the bird produces from its bill the glutinous
and clear-looking substance of which its nest is constructed; an
explanation, to a certain extent, substantiated by the appearance of
the nests, which in structure resemble long filaments of very fine
vermicelli, coiled one part over the other without much regularity, and
glued together by transverse rows of the same material. There was an
old notion, that these nests--which, by the way, in form resemble the
bowl of a large gravy-spoon, split in half longitudinally--were formed
from sea-foam and other marine productions pulled up by the birds; but
inasmuch as the edible-nest is found not only at the seaside, but in
caves sixty or seventy miles in the interior, Prabu’s hypothesis seemed
the most correct; but, then, to prove that, it should be discovered, by
a skilful dissection, that the bird has some peculiar organ destined to
perform the process of elaborating such a substance from its food. At
present, neither naturalists nor natives make any distinction between
the variety of swallows which affords the esculent nest, or any other.
As the prahu entered the creek, walled on one side by a perpendicular
rock of at least 600 feet in height, Prabu made the blood run cold in
our veins; for, pointing to a small dark spot about 200 feet above our
heads, he said: “Yon hole is the entrance to one of the caves, and
can only be reached from the top. What do my young masters think of
nest-hunting now?”
“I sha’n’t think any more about it,” said I, with a shudder. “_I_
wasn’t born a bird, and it’s an occupation only fit for eagles and
Mother Carey’s chickens; or, at least, people ought to be invented
with wings and strong claws for the express purpose.”
“Queer!” said Martin, thoughtfully, and scanning the rocks. “It’s a
deuce of a height, or rather a depth, to be let down, with no ledge
or abutment to rest upon, and this sea surging, foaming, and boiling
in one’s ear! But then,” he added, his eyes brightening up, “it’s
dangerous; it wants pluck, and that’s the thing for me. No danger, no
fun. Besides, others do it, and, if so, why not me? I tell you what,
Claud, we white fellows mustn’t show a feather the same color as our
skin. Besides, we are always boasting about being superior to these
darkies; therefore, we must prove now that we are at least their
equals. We have begun, and we must go on.”
“My young master,” said Prabu, good-naturedly smiling at the allusion
to the “darkies,” “does he know that the men who gather the nests have
been trained from their childhood to climb rocks like tiger-cats, and
that even of these one out of every five loses his life?”
“Bother! all right; don’t try to frighten a fellow. As you Mahommedans
say, ‘What is written _is_ written,’ we have begun, and we must go
on; what we want in training, you know, we must find in pluck; and if
you come to that,” he added, boastfully, “I sha’n’t fail--no, nor my
brother, either, for all his pretending to be afraid of this, that, and
the other; for in _his_ quiet way, he is as plucky as any of us.”
“There is no real pluck, Martin,” said I, “in attempting that in which
we know we must fail.”
“Ah! old fellow, but we never _do_ know what will be a failure till we
try,” he replied; and as he would have continued that line of argument
the whole day, I dropped the subject.
Shortly after daybreak we anchored in a small natural harbor or bay,
about half-way up the creek. “Now comes the tug of war,” said Martin;
adding, “When do we commence, Prabu?”
“To-morrow, at sunrise,” answered Prabu. “To-day I must see the chief
who guards the caves; but my young masters can, if they please, come
with me, for they will find a welcome for the day and the night in the
village.”
Then, having given orders to Kati to send six of the men to join
us in the morning, bringing with them all things necessary for the
expedition, we followed Prabu up a steep hill.
“Truly, this may be a village,” said Martin, when we reached the top,
“but it’s inhabited by the dead.”
My brother was right. It was a cemetery--one of those cities of the
dead, for the simplicity yet beauty and taste of which, in laying
out, the Javanese are not surpassed by any people. The whole summit
and portion of the opposite slope of the hill was clad with a verdant
sward, and laid out in groves of samboza trees, a plant which, even
when young, from the fantastic growth of its stem, has a solemn aspect.
The little mounds of earth, with their head and foot stones strewn with
flowers, at the root of each of these trees, bespoke at once the last
resting-place of a beloved one, and the pious care of the living. The
flowers were in all their freshness, for the previous day the festival
annually held in honor of ancestors had taken place. On this occasion,
the men, women and children, attired in their best, repair to the
cemeteries, and pass the day in devotion; each family strews the tombs
of its progenitors with the flowers of the _salasi_, or Indian tulse, a
plant cultivated in great quantities for this express occasion.
With like simplicity and good taste, and without the extravagant
superstitions of most Eastern nations, do the Javanese (for the greater
part Mahommedans) conduct their funerals. But they are sufficiently
curious for description. The corpse is carried to the place of
interment on a broad plank, which is kept for the public service, and
lasts for many generations. It is constantly rubbed with lime, either
to preserve it from decay or to keep it pure. No coffin is made use of,
the body being simply wrapped in white cloth. In forming the grave,
after digging to a convenient depth, they make a cavity in the side
at the bottom, of sufficient dimensions to contain the body, which is
there deposited on its right side. By this mode the earth literally
lies light upon it; and the cavity, after strewing flowers in it, they
stop up by two boards, fastened angularly to each other, so that the
one is on the top of the corpse, while the other defends it on the open
side, the edge resting on the bottom of the grave. The outer excavation
is then filled up with earth, and little white flags, or streamers, are
stuck in order around.
They likewise plant a shrub bearing a white flower, and in some places
wild marjoram; the women who attend the funeral make a hideous noise,
not much unlike the Irish howl. On the third and seventh day, the
relations perform a ceremony at the grave; and at the end of twelve
months, that of _Legga batu_, or setting up a few long, elliptical
stones at the head and foot, which, being scarce in some parts of the
country, bear a considerable price. On this occasion, they kill and
feast on a buffalo, and leave the head to decay on the spot, as a token
of the honor they have done to the deceased in eating to his memory.
The ancient burying-places are called _krammat_, and are supposed to
have been those of the holy men by whom their ancestors were converted
to the faith; they are held in extraordinary reverence, and the least
disturbance or violation of the ground, though all traces of the grave
be obliterated, is regarded as an unpardonable sacrilege.
For nearly an hour we lingered about that silent city, hallowed by so
many loving hearts. To me there is ever a melancholy satisfaction in
such places; they recall to my mind the departed, and fix my thoughts
upon the future; but then I stood pondering over one particular mound
of earth, for it reminded me of my mother’s grave, in that far distant
American cemetery. What changes had happened since my father, brother,
and I had stood, almost broken-hearted, at its side! We had become
aliens in a foreign land; a dearly-loved father dead, perhaps foully
slain--who knew? an unknown uncle; a cousin, known long enough to have
become endeared to us--all, all passed away! With such ponderings my
mind was absorbed; sighing, sobbing, I had no thought but of my own
sorrow, when Martin, taking my arm, but with big tears trickling down
his own cheeks, said----
“Don’t, Claud, don’t! Be a man now!”
“Have men no tears, Martin, for the memory of those they have loved?”
“Yes, perhaps so,” he answered, wiping his damp eyes. “Don’t! don’t!
don’t! Let us think of the future: we must not dwell upon the
past--indeed we mus’n’t!”
“You are right, dear brother,” I said, at length, recovering myself.
“But, Prabu, where is this village?”
“Yonder, my master,” he replied, pointing to a cluster of houses upon
another hill in the distance. “But look!” he added; “beware!” and
scarcely had we time, I to clutch my pistol, and Martin and Prabu to
draw their creeses, when a huge wild boar, which had just come from the
wood at the bottom of the hill, came tearing and grunting up the slope,
followed by several hunters.
“It is the chief!” cried Prabu, as an old man, spear in hand, and in
advance of his party, pursued the animal.
“Let us show him a bold front,” said Martin. And as we prepared to
receive him, the hog stood for a minute, as if greatly astonished at
meeting with such an unexpected opposition.
“He is taking our measure,” said I, at the same time aiming at the
brute.
“Here, move aside,” cried my brother, brandishing his creese; “this is
the weapon to tackle master piggy with; he is only grinning at that
whipper-snapper pop-gun of yours.”
“That thrust will save us further trouble, Martin,” said I, as the old
chief, who had now come within reach of the hog, sent his spear into
its side. But not so; the weapon broke short off at the neck-head, and
piggy, giving one loud grunt, turned suddenly round, and rushed into a
neighboring thicket.
“After him!” shouted my brother; but the old gentleman, in very angry
tones, called to us to remain where we were.
“Who are these,” he cried, “sons of burnt mothers, that they should
step between Datoo and his game?”
“Why, uncivil old person, we were going to help you to the pig!”
replied Martin; then, seeing the chief stood looking at the thicket, he
added: “It is the dog and the manger over again; the old fellow will
neither kill the pig himself, nor let us.”
“Son of a dog!” cried the chief, “my spear is broken, and Datoo dares
not defile Blaber with the blood of a hog.”
Now this Blaber, about the defilement of which he was so sensitive, was
his creese, and Martin, believing it was only an excuse for want of
pluck, said, as he offered him his own weapon,--
“Well, I am not so particular; take this, my friend.”
“Allah reward you!” cried the chief, snatching the creese, and, with
all the agility of a hunter some half a century younger, he leaped
into the thicket. The next minute, there was a grunt, a scream; blood
spurted from the bush, and the chief came forth flourishing the red
steel in his hand, and, now in a much better temper, went up to Prabu,
saying,--
“Datoo is a dog, and a son of a dog, for he did not before recognize
his friend.” Then, by way of testifying his joy at the meeting, he
fell upon his neck, and, after the manner of his race, _smelt_ him--a
mode of salutation in Java equivalent to the touch by the lips of the
inhabitants of continental Europe.
“We will trespass upon thy hospitality one night only, good Datoo, for
to-morrow, at daybreak, we go to the caves.”
“My house, my village, and all therein are my brother Prabu’s,” was
the reply; and then, turning to Martin, he thanked him for saving his
creese from defilement.
The Javanese almost idolize this, their favorite weapon, like the
knights-errant of old, giving them pet names, and occasionally
addressing them as if they were endowed with understanding--yet why,
except from custom, is incomprehensible: it is not for its venerable
antiquity, for its use was not introduced until nearly the beginning
of the fifteenth century. It it not so useful as the sword, for it is
short, and most generally crooked. With justice it has been described
as more fit for assassination than war. The creese doubtlessly had
its origin in a most unromantic cause, the scarcity and dearness of
iron; for in those countries where the metal is unknown, and without
intercourse with foreigners, it must necessarily be far more valuable
than gold itself--a fact sufficiently proved by the histories of Mexico
and Peru, wherein, although gold and silver were as common as iron in
other countries, the more vulgar metal was never seen until the arrival
of the Spaniards. Indeed, had these two brave peoples known its use,
it is more than questionable that they would have become, if at all,
so easily the prey of their invaders. Such was the origin of that
apology for the sword--the creese. Why it is continued in use after
the cause has ceased, is easily comprehended by those who are aware
of the obstinate adherence of barbarians to ancient habit and custom,
particularly in an affair in which national pride and vanity are
engaged.
Arriving at the chief’s house, the largest and best-built in the
village, the old gentleman gave us a formal welcome, and bade us be
seated--that is, squat ourselves upon the bamboo flooring, and the
slave would bring us refreshments; but Prabu, having looked around, as
if disappointed at not seeing some other persons present, asked, “How
is it that my worthy Datoo’s sons are absent when the Pangeran requires
their aid?”
Now this Pangeran, or Prince, was the owner or proprietor of the
nest-caves; and Datoo and his sons, his born vassals, were keepers and
guards of the caves against robbers, and, as such, bound to render
Prabu any aid he might require whenever he came upon a nest-gathering
expedition. At the question Datoo appeared at first a little surprised,
but he answered,--
“The Strong-one and the Weak-one are in the forest, hunting the
buffalo, and will return in time to render aid to the noble Prabu. But
let my worthy friend delight his heart and please his eye, for the
_Handsome One_[A] is here to welcome her betrothed;” and the frown
vanished from our captain’s brow, as a girl, pretty for a Javanese,
but yellow as saffron, entered the room, when he arose, and, having
addressed to her some very pretty words, saluted by--well, not kissing,
but _smelling_ her cheek.
The remainder of the day was spent in preparing for our expedition the
next morning. At night we slept together in the same room. As, however,
it was the first moment since entering the house we had seen Prabu
alone, Martin mischievously said:
“Prabu, you sly dog! you never told us you had a sweetheart.” But our
captain was sullen, and replied not. Determined, however, to have his
joke, Martin continued: “The Handsome One is a beauty lovely as the
houris of Mahomet’s Paradise; but she is very young--almost a child,
Prabu.”
“_She has had her teeth filed_,” replied our captain; but with that
answer my brother was compelled to rest content, for he would say no
more. But I must explain.
This ugly custom of blackening the teeth is common with the Asiatics,
but it is the natives of the Archipelago alone who also file them.
The practice as far as regards the men, is equivalent among Americans
to throwing aside the boy’s dress and assuming that of the man; and
with the women, to that, perhaps, of our young ladies making their
first appearance at public places. But it is always a preparation for
marriage.
The operation is confined chiefly to the upper canine teeth, the edges
of which are filed down and rendered perfectly even, while the body of
the tooth is rendered concave.
The person about to be operated upon is thrown upon his or her back,
and an old woman--a professor of the art--grinds the teeth into the
desired form with a piece of pumice-stone. An indelible black is
easily given, after the loss of the enamel, by the application of an
oily carbon, procured by burning the shell of the cocoa-nut. The two
middle upper canine teeth are left white, and sometimes covered with a
plate of gold--the contrast which they form, in either case, with the
jet-black of their neighbors being looked upon as highly becoming. A
few individuals, more whimsical than the rest, have the teeth filed
into the appearance of a saw.
Thus, not only to be in the fashion, but to be regarded as a real
beauty, a Javanese must have his teeth properly filed and blackened;
for, say they, “men and women ought not to have teeth like dogs and
monkeys.” And this saying, perhaps, suggests that the ugly institution
had its origin in a rude effort of improvement, on the part of the
first savage tribe that began it, to distinguish itself from the
beasts of the field and those ruder than themselves, who nearly
resembled the former. Crawford gives us the following anecdote,
illustrative of Javanese public opinion upon this “mode”:
“After the young Sultan of Java had had his teeth duly filed and
blackened, according to custom, one of the chiefs asked me, with
perfect earnestness, if I did not think his highness’s looks _very much
improved_, and was surprised that I did not agree with him. When the
elder son of the Chief of Samarang--one of the very interesting youths
who were educated at Calcutta--visited Bali, the Rajah of Blelleng, one
of the sovereigns of that island, was informed of the circumstance,
and asked his opinion of him. He approved of his looks, manners and
conversation; but added, ‘it was a thousand pities his teeth were
white!’”