the "dookoon-sawah" literally, the "medicine man of the rice-field,"
to consult him as to the day and hour when it will be meet to begin
the harvest. This to a Javanese, is a most important matter, and it
requires all the astrological, necromantic and cabalistic knowledge
of the dookoon-sawah to settle it. For there are many unlucky days in
the Javanese year, and any enterprise begun on such a day is doomed to
inevitable failure. After long and intricate calculations, into which
the cabalistic values corresponding to the year, the month, the day,
and the hour enter, an acceptable date is at last fixed upon by the
dookoon-sawah, on which the selection of the Rice-Bride and Bridegroom
is to take place.
On the appointed day, having first solemnly consecrated the field by
walking round it with a bundle of burning rice-straw in his hand, and
by the planting of tall glagahstalks at each of the four corners,
invoking Dewi Sri as he does so,--the dookoon begins to search for two
stalks of rice exactly equal in length and thickness, and growing near
each other. When these are found, four more are hunted for, two pairs
of absolutely similar ears of rice. The first couple are the Bride and
Bridegroom; the four others the bridesmaids and the "best men," (if the
term may be used to designate what the French call garçons d'honneur.)
These couples are now tied together as they stand, with strips of
palm-leaves, and the doekoen invokes on them the blessing of Dewi Sri.
Then he addresses the Rice-Bride and the Rice-Bridegroom, asking
them, each in turn, whether they accept each other as husband and
wife, and answering for them. The marriage now is concluded; the stalks
are smeared with yellow boreh-unguent, decorated with garlands, and
shaded from the sun by a tiny awning of palm leaves, whilst the stalks
round about are cut off.
[Illustration: Filling the village field.]
[Illustration: Rice-barn.]
Now the dookoon, the owner of the field and his family, all those
who have in any way helped in preparing the "Sawah," or planting the
rice, sit down to a "Slamettan," a repast which is at the same time a
sacrifice to the gods, and a further celebration of the marriage just
contracted; and, at the end of the banquet, the doekoen, rising up,
solemnly declares that the hour of the harvest has come.
Now, it is the kindly custom of Javanese land-owners to invite to the
harvest-feast all who, during the past month, have taken any part,
however slight, in the cultivation of the Sawah. And as, under so
elaborate a system of agriculture as is demanded by the growing of
rice, these are necessarily many, the Pari Penganten is a feast for
the whole "dessa" as well as for a single family. The men leave their
work in the shops or the market, the women lay down the sarong-cloth on
which for weeks and weeks they have been patiently tracing elaborate
patterns with wax, and blue and brown pigment; and all, in holiday
attire and with flowers wreathed in their hair or stuck into a fold of
their head-kerchief, repair to the ripe rice-field.
[Illustration: Peasant ploughing.]
The dookoon-sawah is the first to enter it; and, as he does so, he in
this wise greets the spirits of the field.
[Illustration: Rice on the swampy plains.]
"O! thou invisible Pertijan Siluman! do not render vain the labour
I have bestowed upon my sawah! If thou dost render it vain, I will
hack thy head in two! Mother Sri Penganten! hearken! do thou assemble
and call to thee all thy children and grand-children! let them all
be present and let not one stay away! I wish to reap the rice. I
will reap it with a piece of whetted iron. Be not afraid, tremble
not, neither raise thine eyes! All my prayers implore thy favour and
gracious protection. Also, I propose to prepare a sacrificial repast,
and dedicate it to the spirits that protect this my sawah; and to the
spirits that protect the four villages nearest to this our village, and
also to Leh-Saluke and Leh-Mukalana!"
[Illustration: "The produce of the fields is equally divided amongst
them as they equally divide the labour and the toil."]
Having pronounced this invocation, he cuts off the ears which represent
the Rice-Bride and Bridegroom and their four companions, and the
reapers begin their work. The implement they use is best described as
a cross-hilted dagger of bamboo, having a little knife inserted into
the wooden blade; the reaper, holding the hilt in the fingers of his
right hand, with the thumb presses the rice-stalk against the small
knife, severing the ear, which he gathers in his left hand; and thus he
cuts off each ripe ear separately with a gesture as delicate as if he
were culling a flower. The whole rice harvest of Java is reaped in this
manner.
The loss of time may be imagined. The Government has, again and
again, tried to introduce the use of the sickle and more expeditious
methods, but in vain. In all things, the Javanese love to do as their
fathers did before them; and, in this particular matter of the reaping
of the rice, their attachment to ancestral customs is still further
strengthened by a religious sentiment. The Dewi Sri herself they
believe, having assumed the shape of a gelatik or rice-bird, which
broke off the ripe ears with its bill, taught mortals the manner in
which it pleased her that her good gift of the rice should be gathered.
And accordingly, her votaries to the present day do gather in thus,
culling each ear separately. In their opinion, to use a sickle would
be to show a wanton disrespect to the goddess, and a contempt of her
precious gift, as if it were not worth gathering in a seemly manner; a
sacrilege which the outraged deity would not fail to avenge by famine
and pestilence. On the other hand, what would they gain by departing
from their ancestors' honoured custom, and adopting instead the manners
of the men from Holland? "Time," these men respond. But then, that
means nothing to a Javanese. He no more wants to "gain time" than he
wants to "gain" fresh air or sunlight. It is there; he has it;
he will always have it. What absurdity is this talk of "gaining" an
assured and ever-present possession?
[Illustration: Flooded rice-fields.]
The idea of time as an equivalent for a certain amount--the greatest
possible--of labour performed, is essentially occidental. A Javanese
not only does not understand it, but he shrugs his shoulders and smiles
at the notion. He does not see what possible relation there can be
between a day and what these white men call a day's work. He works,
undoubtedly; but he works in a quiet deliberate fashion, for just so
long as he thinks pleasant, or fit, or when the monsoon threatens,
unavoidable; and then he stops; and, if the task be not finished, well,
it may be finished some future day. There is no cause why any ado
should be made about it. Everything in time. And let us remember that
haste cometh of the evil.
At last, however, the harvest is reaped, and the hour has come for the
Rice-Bride and Bridegroom to repair to their new home. The two reapers
on whom devolves the honourable duty of conducting them thither, don
their very best clothes for the occasion, and daub their faces with
yellow boreh-unguent. Then to the strains of the gamelan and followed
by all the reapers, men and women in solemn procession, they carry the
garlanded sheaves to the house of the owner of the field. He and his
wife meet them in the doorway; and, in set phrase, they inform the
Rice-Bride and Bridegroom that the house is swept and garnished, and
all things ready for their reception. The procession then wends its way
to the granary, where a small space, surrounded by screens and spread
with clean new matting, represents the bridal chamber.
The Rice-Bride and Groom and their "maids and youths of honour" are
introduced into this miniature room, the other sheaves are piled up in
the loomboong (rice-born) and when the whole harvest is stored, the
dookoon-sawah pronounces the prayer to the Goddess Sri.
[Illustration: "The men, with the father of the bride at their head,
come for the bridegroom, to conduct him to the mosque."]
"Mother Sri Penganten, do thou sleep in this dark granary, and grant
us thy protection. It is meet that thou shouldst provide for all thy
children and grandchildren."
[Illustration: "With measured steps the two advanced towards each
other, and whilst yet at some distance paused."]
Then the door of the loomboong is locked; and during forty days
none dare unlock it. At the end of that time the honey-moon of the
Rice-Bride and Bridegroom is supposed to be over. The owner of the
field comes to the loomboong, unlocks the door, and in set phrase
invites the couple to an excursion on the river. "The boat," he says,
"lies ready; and the rowers know how to handle the oars." With this
comparison the process of husking the grain is designated.
The sheaves are laid in the hollowed-out tree-trunk which serves as a
kind of mortar, and the women, bringing down the long wooden pestles
in a rhythmic cadence husk the rice. And this is the end of the Pari
Penganten.
[Illustration: "Humbly kneeling down, the bride proceeded to wash the
bridegroom's feet, in token of loving submission."]
But, as the proverb has it, "of a wedding comes a wedding" and this
mystic marriage of the rice invariably proves the prelude to marriages
among the young folk of the dessa, who have met and wooed and won
one another during the long days of common work and play in the ripe
rice-field. During our stay on the Tjeremai hill-side we had occasion
to convince ourselves of this. The Pari Penganten was but just over
when we arrived; and already several marriages were being arranged in
the dessa, among the number that of the headman's pretty daughter to a
good-looking youth, her remote cousin.
[Illustration: Bride and bridegroom sitting in state.]
As a preliminary the village scholar had been consulted as to the
young couple's chances of happiness; and he having declared the
cabalistic meaning of their united initials to be "a broadly-branching
waringin-tree" which is the symbol of health, riches and a numerous
progeny, the parents, reassured as to the future of their children, had
begun negotiations about the dowry. This, it should be noted, is given
by the family of the future husband.
[Illustration: The wedding-guests on their procession through the
village.]
After a great deal of haggling and protesting, they had at last agreed
upon a sum about half-way between the amount originally offered by the
bridegroom's parents and that demanded by the father of the bride. In
due course, then, the youth had sent the customary presents of food,
clothes, and domestic utensils to the house of his bride. And now he
was busy preparing himself for the great day. He had had his teeth
filed almost to the gums, and blackened till they shone like lacquer,
so that his enthusiastic mother and sisters compared his mouth to the
ripe pomegranate, in which the black seeds show through the red flesh.
And, day by day, he went to the village-priest to recite to him the
words of the marriage-formula, which he did, sitting up to his chin in
the cold water of the tank behind the mosque, the priest standing over
him, Koran in hand. The bride, on her side, had been living on a diet
of three tea-spoonfuls of rice and a glass of hot water per diem, so as
to lose flesh and--according to Javanese notions--gain beauty against
the happy day; and to the great satisfaction of her family she was now
so thin, that they could almost see the flame of the oilwick shining
through her.
Meanwhile the entire population of the dessa was busy with preparations
for the marriage-feast. The women might be seen all day long, under
the pent-roof of the bride's house and in the kitchen, pounding rice,
boiling vegetables, broiling fish, roasting goats' flesh, and mixing
all manner of condiments for the innumerable dishes, which figure at
a Javanese repast. And the young men were chopping wood and carrying
water as if for their livelihood.
At length the wedding-day arrived.
The sun had hardly risen when already the women of the village were
up and stirring, hastening on their way to the house of the bride,
whom they were to assist at her toilet. This was a most complicated
affair, the girl's hair having to be dressed in a curious and elaborate
fashion, requiring much twisting and coiling of oil-saturated tresses,
interwoven with wreaths of jessamine blossom, and fixed with large
ornamental pins; and a row of little curls must be painted on the
forehead with black pigment. Furthermore the face must be carefully
whitened with rice-powder, and the shoulders and arms anointed with
yellow boreh-unguent. It need hardly be said that it required the whole
morning to bring these many and delicate operations to a satisfactory
end.
The men, meanwhile, with the father of the bride at their head,
had gone to the house of the bridegroom, to conduct him in solemn
procession to the mosque, where the priest was to perform the
marriage-ceremony between him and the representative of the bride;
for, according to Javanese notions, a woman has no business at a
wedding--least of all at her own. From the mosque the groom then
returned to his own house, where he proceeded to a toilet hardly
less elaborate than that of his bride. After a considerable time,
he issued forth again, resplendent with boreh-unguent, garlands
of jessamine-blossoms and silver ornaments. He mounted a richly
caparisoned pony, which his "youth of honour" held ready for him; and,
at the head of the procession, triumphantly rode to his bride's house,
where the guests were waiting, my friends and I among the number, to
witness the meeting of the newly-wedded pair.
As the bridegroom drew rein in front of the house, the bride supported
by two maids of honour, slowly came out of her chamber. With measured
steps the two advanced towards each other; and whilst yet at some
distance paused. Two small bags of sirih-leaves containing chalk and
betel-nuts were handed them; and with a quick movement each threw his
at the other's head. The bride's little bag struck the groom full in
the face. "It is she that will rule the roost," said one of the women,
chuckling. And I fancied I saw a gleam of satisfaction pass over the
bride's demure little face, half hidden though it was by the strings
of beads and jessamine flowers dependent from her head dress. The next
moment however, she had humbly knelt down on the floor. One of the
bridesmaids handed her a basin full of water, and a towel; and she
proceeded to wash her husband's feet, in token of loyalty and loving
submission.
[Illustration: "The men sat down to a repast."]
When she was done, he took her by the hand, raising her; and led
her towards the middle of the apartment, where a piece of matting
was spread on the floor. On this she squatted down, holding up a
handkerchief; and the bridegroom threw into it some rice, some
"peteh"-beans and some money, symbolising the sustenance which he bound
himself to afford her. The symbolical ceremonies were then concluded
by his sitting down next to her, and putting three spoonfuls of rice,
kneaded into little balls, into her mouth, after which he ate himself
what was left in the dish. The solemn part of the proceedings being now
over, the festivities began.
As a preliminary, the bridal party was to go in solemn procession
through the village; and they were marshalled in order before the door.
A curious cortege it was. At the head appeared two "barongans" the
images of a giant and a giantess, carried on the shoulders of men who
were hidden in the large framework; then came the gamelan orchestra,
bells, drums, kettles, viols and all; next a group of men mounted on
hobby-horses, and beating on the sonorous "angkloeng."[19] After these
came some half dozen women, carrying the bridal insignia--paper birds,
bunches of green leaves and paper flowers, and tall fans made of
peacocks feathers. A group of priests followed, beating tambourines and
chanting a sort of epithalamium. Next came the bride and her maidens in
a litter, carried upon the shoulders of four men; and immediately after
her the bridegroom on horseback followed by a group of musicians. The
wedding-guests brought up the rear.
[Illustration: Native policeman.]
In this order the procession took the road; went round the dessa twice;
and finally halted at the house of the bridegroom.
[19] An instrument composed of a series of graduated bamboo tubes.
The father appeared in the door, as soon as he heard the music
approaching; came out to meet the procession; and advancing towards
the litter of the bride, lifted her out of it, and carried her into
the house, where the bridegroom's relations were seated in a circle to
receive her. To these she was now, with great ceremony, introduced as
the daughter of the house, whilst she and the bridegroom saluted every
member of the assembly in turn, by kneeling down and kissing his or her
feet.
The guests were then invited to enter, and the men sat down to a
repast, at which the women served them, whilst the bride and bridegroom
took their meal together, separately from the rest.
We took advantage of the momentary bustle to slip away unobserved.
There was not a soul to be seen on the moonlit village street; the huts
were dark and silent; and at the entrance of the village the watchman
on duty for the night had left his post vacant.
A din of laughter and buzzing voices pursued us as we descended the
hill-path to our bungalow. And all that night, long after the last
cricket had ceased his song we heard the thin clear notes of the
gamelan resounding from the heights.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
EPILOGUE
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
As I write these lines--adding a last touch to the slight sketches in
which I have endeavoured to render my impressions of this country--the
shrill whistle of steam and the thudding and panting of powerful
engines are in my ears, and I see the radiant sky blackened by volumes
of smoke. The "campaign" has begun in the Cheribon plains. In endless
file the lumbering, buffalo-drawn "pedatis"[20] creaking under the
load of luscious green sugar-cane, jolt along upon the dusty road, on
their way to the factory yonder,--a great, square, ungainly building,
all around which there is a stir and bustle of dark figures, like the
swarming of ants around an ant-hill. The gate is thrown wide; tall
black shapes loom through the semi-darkness of the interior; and,
now and then, the sudden flare from a furnace reveals the bulging,
sooty-black mass of a boiler, or the contour of the gigantic wheel
slowly revolving. The nauseous smell of the boiling syrup taints the
air.
[20] Carts the wheels of which are wooden discs.
I went to the mill, the other morning, to watch the transformation
of the beautiful tall reeds, which, only a few hours ago, so gaily
fluttered their pennon-like leaves in the wind and sunshine without,
into a shapeless pulp, and a turbid viscous liquor. The "mandoor"
showed me the first sugar-bags of the season. I looked at them with
some interest beyond that which they deserved in themselves. We were
to be companions on the journey westwards, and already the steamer
which was to convey us hence, was riding at anchor in the roadstead of
Cheribon.
Last impressions, it is said, are the strongest, and those which
ultimately fix the mental images. If so, I will remember Java, years
hence, not as the fairy-land it seemed to me only yester day, in the
sylvan solitudes of Tjerimai, but as a busy manufacturing country,
prosperous and prosaic.
I will remember a rich soil, an enervating climate, alternating
droughts and inundations and fever-breathing monsoons; a mode of life,
comfortable and even luxurious, but monotonous in the extreme, which
taxes to the utmost both mental and physical energies. I will think
of white dusty towns by yellow muddy rivers; of hills, and vales, and
marshy lowlands overgrown with thick, sprouting rice; of admirable
irrigation works; of a system of political administration, apparently
wise and equitable and conducive to the well-being of a prosperous
native population. And I will be at a loss how to reconcile all these
hard solid facts about Java with the airy fancier, the legends and the
dreams, which must still, as with white splendours of zodiacal light,
illumine my thoughts of the beautiful island.
It seems impossible that both should be true. And yet, I know that the
fancies are every whit as real and living as the facts, that the poetry
and the romance are as faithful representations of things as they are,
as the driest prose could be.
Even now, whilst in the factory yonder, fires roar, engines pant,
and human beings sweat and toil, to change the dew-drenched glory of
the fields into a marketable commodity some hamlet in the plains is
celebrating the Wedding of the Rice with many a mystic rite. Some
native chief, celebrating the birth of a son, welcomes to his house
the "dalang," the itinerant poet and playwright, who on his miniature
stage, represents the councils of the Gods, and the adventures, in
war and love, of unconquerable heroes, and of queens more beautiful
than the dawn. And in the sacred grove of Sangean on Tjerimai, the
green summit of which dominates the southern horizon, some huntsman,
crouching by the shore of the legend-haunted lake, invokes the
Princess Golden Orchid, and her saintly brother, Radhen Pangloera,
who live in a silver palace deep down in the shining water, and who
shower wealth, honour, and long life upon the mortal, who pronounces
the names the spirits of the lake know them by. Nay--on this very
estate, amid the smoke of the factory-chimneys romance still holds
her own. The mythopœic fancy of the country-folk has enthroned a
"danhjang," tutelary genius of the field, in the branches of an ancient
waringin-tree out in the fields. On their way to the mill, men and
women pause in its shade, to hang little paper fans on the branches, or
deposit on the humble altar jessamine blossoms, yellow "boreh" unguent
and new-laid eggs in homage to the agrestic god. Now, the waringin tree
stands in a field of sugarcane, where its wide-spreading roots exhaust
the soil, and its broad shadow kills the young plants within an ever
expanding circle. Clearly, it should be cut down. But the owner of the
estate, warned by recent events, wisely forbears. He chooses to put up
with these inconveniences, rather than expose himself and his property
to the revenge which the votaries of the Danhjang would undoubtedly
take, if a sacrilegious hand were laid on his chosen abode. And so, the
Sacred Waringin thrives and flourishes in the midst of the plantations
of sugar-cane, a fit symbol of the romance which, in this island,
pervades all things, even those the most prosaic in appearance.
It is this, I believe, this constant intrusion of the poetic, the
legendary, the fanciful into the midst of reality, which constitutes
the unique charm of Java. This is the secret of the unspeakable and
irresistible fascination by which it holds the men of the north, born
and bred among the sterner realities of European civilisation. A spell
which becomes so potent as to countervail ills which otherwise would
prove unbearable; and to temper, with a regret and a strange sense of
want, the joys of the exile's home-coming.
And this, too, is the reason why, to me as to so many who have beheld
Java not with the bodily eye alone, it must still remain a land of
dreams and fancies, the Enchanted Isle where innocent beliefs and
gladsome thoughts, such as are the privilege of children and childlike
nations, still have their happy home.
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
*Mask used by Topeng-players I
*Batik-freme for the exclusive use of ladies of quality V
A "brownie" of that enchanted garden that men call Java 2
*Batik-pattern 3
"Fishing-praos, their diminutive hull almost disappearing under
the one tall whitish-brown sail, shaped like a bird's wing and
flung back, as if ready for a swoop and rake" 6
"The ship lay still and we trod the quay of Tandjong Priok" 7
*Sekin. (Interior of Sumatra) 11
*Four-armed Çiva 12
*Lamp.--Garuda the Sun-Bird in the shape of a winged woman 14
*Landing of a Hindoo Ship.--Relief to Boroboedoer (Java) 15
"A seller of fruit and vegetables his baskets dangling from the
end of a bamboo yoke" 17
"Pine-apples and mangosteen, velvety rambootan and smooth-skinned
dookoo" 19
"The big kalongs hanging from the topmost branches in a sleep
from which the sunset will presently awaken them" 21
*Ivory Mortar and Pestle, decorated with representations of scenes
from the Life of Krishna 26
*Mask used by Topeng-players 28