Chapter 2

This must have been a bitter experience for General Janssens, for it was not only the crowning misery of his defeat but marked the end of his military career, assuming that his Imperial master retained his power in Europe.

"Souvenez vous, Monsieur," Napoleon is reported to have said to him upon taking up his appointment, "Qu'un General Francais ne se laissa pas prendre une seconde fois!"

The island having been wrested from the French, the British authorities set about the reform of the civil administration. This was not to be accomplished, however, without a test of strength between the natives and their new masters. An act of treachery soon called the troops into the field again.

During the Governorship of Marshal Daendels, the Sultan of Djocjakarta had been the most turbulent and intriguing of the native princes, and his conduct immediately after the British occupation gave occasion for serious uneasiness. Mr. Stamford Raffles, who had been appointed by Lord Minto Lieutenant-Governor of Java in December, 1811, went in person to see the Sultan. A treaty was entered into, under which the Sultan confirmed to the Honourable East India Company all the privileges, advantages and prerogatives which had been possessed by the Dutch and French authorities. To the Company also were transferred the sole regulation of the duties and the collection of tribute within the dominions of the Sultan, as well as the general administration of justice in cases where British interests were concerned.

This expedition of Mr. Raffles seems to have had exciting experiences, for we read:

"The small British escort which accompanied Mr. Raffles, consisting only of a part of the 14th Regiment, a troop of the 22nd Light Dragoons and the ordinary garrison of Bengal Sepoys in the Fort and at the Residency, were not in a condition to enforce terms anyway obnoxious to the personal feelings of the Sultan. The whole retinue, indeed, of the Governor were in imminent danger of being murdered. Krises were actually unsheathed by several of the Sultan's own suite in the Audience Hall where Mr. Raffles received that Prince, who was accompanied by several thousands of armed followers expressing in their behaviour such an infuriated spirit of insolence as openly to indicate that they only waited for the signal to perpetrate the work of destruction, in which case not a man of our brave soldiers, from the manner in which they were surrounded, could have escaped."

For a time, however, an open breach of the peace was averted by the tact of Mr. Raffles and the outward appearance of bravery of the officers and men accompanying him.

Several expeditions were made into the interior to put down petty brigands, in much the same way as the Dutch are engaged in Flores and Celebes to-day, and a more imposing display of military force had to be made in Sumatra.

In the following year, the Sultan of Mataram in Djocjakarta again became troublesome, and it was found necessary to send a strong expedition against him. On June 20, the famous Water Castle at Djocjakarta was captured by assault, and the Sultan taken prisoner. He was exiled to Prince of Wales Island (Penang), and the Hereditary Prince was placed on the throne. The ruling native at Solo, who rejoiced in the imposing title of Emperor, made terms with the Lieutenant-Governor, and peace was established throughout the island, and was not disturbed seriously during the remainder of the British occupation.

Mr. Raffles set himself to establish a more humane administration than had hitherto prevailed, and anyone who wishes to realise the thoroughness with which this able administrator set himself to the task should read his "History of Java." It is replete with shrewd observations of the native customs, industries, antecedents, and languages, and shows how little change has been effected in the character and domestic customs of the people during the last hundred years.

The essence of his policy of administration is contained in the following sentence written by him:--"Let the higher departments be scrupulously superintended and watched by Europeans of character; let the administration of justice be pure, prompt and steady;" and it is satisfactory to one's sense of patriotism to know that that is the spirit which pervades British administration in her Crown Colonies to-day.

Botanist's Paradise at Buitenzorg.

To the Singaporean visitor to Java there is a melancholy interest in the little monument erected in the Garden at Buitenzorg by Sir Stamford Raffles to the memory of his wife, who died during his residence there.

In the conditions under which the island was restored to Holland, it was stipulated that the monument, in the form of a little Greek temple, should be cared for by the Dutch. The trust has been fulfilled, and those of us who take interest in the historic chances and changes of Britain's possessions in the Far East and the personal influence of the builders of the Empire, can find food for reflection in the sacrifices made by those men and women who are ever found on the Empire's frontiers. The sight of this memorial among the kanari trees in the tropical island of Java makes us think of the tablet in the little parish church on the hill at Hendon, near which this woman's husband lies buried.

The inscription runs as follows:--

"Sacred to the memory of Olivia Marianne, wife of Thomas Stamford Raffles, Lieutenant-Governor of Java and its dependencies, who died at Buitenzorg on the 26th November, 1814.

"Oh thou whom ne'er my constant heart One moment hath forgot. Tho' fate severe hath bid us part Yet still--forget me not."

The traveller who has only a fortnight or three weeks to devote to Java must awake betimes. In any event, he must needs be early to take advantage of the express trains, and in our case we had only a day to devote to Buitenzorg, where the Governor-General of the Netherland Indies has his palace.

With the exception of the short run from Tandjong Priok, it was our first acquaintance with the railway service, and when we saw the crowd awaiting to entrain at Weltervreden Station we decided to travel first-class, contrary to the advice of our friends. It was well we did so on this occasion, for the train was overcrowded; but afterwards we travelled only by the second-class, and found it as comfortable as one could wish. Indeed, so few persons travel in the first-class compartments of the trains that we are astonished that any are retained by the management. Throughout Java we found the railway service excellent in every respect. The carriages are comfortable. Ample accommodation is given for each person. It is possible to stow away a considerable amount of barang or baggage in the carriages, and full advantage is taken of this facility by the Dutch and native travellers. The lavatory accommodation is better than we have seen it in the fast expresses on the principal lines in England, and on the through service expresses there are restaurant cars where meals may be partaken of at a moderate tariff. We cannot say we always found the food palatable, for the Chinamen who are in charge appear to have a fixed idea that the "beef-stuk," which is the piece de resistance, should be served up raw. In course of time, doubtless, the railway management will be able to turn its attention to the commissariat arrangements, with a view to their improvement, and, when they do so, we hope they will leave out the beefsteak altogether and provide more variety and daintier, more inviting, and more palatable viands.

A fair rate of speed is maintained, and it is possible to go from Batavia to Sourabaya, at the other end of the island, in two days. The trains, of course, as in the Federated Malay States, run only from sunrise to sundown, and the through traveller between the two principal towns must sleep the night at Maos, where a commodious pasanggrahan or rest-house provides clean, comfortable accommodation and wholesome food. Only on two occasions were we belated on the railway, and both instances were due to the one cause,--a wash-out on the line at Moentilan, the result of a severe thunder and rain storm on the previous day and night. The train was run down cautiously to the gap, passengers crossed over on a temporary bridge to the train waiting on the other side, and the baggage was transferred by a host of coolies. All this had to be done in a torrential rain-storm, but the railway officials did all in their power to make the conditions as little disagreeable as possible, and the only inconvenience was the late arrival of some of the baggage at Djocjakarta.

There was not much of interest on the morning run to Buitenzorg, but the Dutch lady who carried on an animated conversation with four gentlemen for the whole of the hour and a half introduced to us the possibilities for expression in the Dutch equivalents of "Yes" and "No."

We had been prepared by Miss Scidmore's book for the beauties of Buitenzorg, and for once expectation was more than realised.

The Dutch Governor-General van Imhoff was certainly well advised when he selected this position as the official residence of the Governor-General, and the Dutch horticulturists, than whom there are probably none better, deserve to be congratulated upon the garden city they have created out of the primeval jungle.

Part of the old palace was built by Governor-General Mossel, one hundred and fifty years ago, and the original received additions during the reigns of Daendels and Raffles. This structure was destroyed by an earthquake in 1834, and the new palace, the first glimpse of which one receives across an artificial lake, is a worthy residence for the administrator of the Dutch Indies. The surface of the lake is studded with lotus flowers and victoria regia, and the little island in the centre displays a wealth of the red or rajah palm, feathery yellow bamboo, and dark-green foliage which the lake mirrors in ever-changing pictures.

An Alma Tadema or a Marcus Stone would revel in the flowers and marbles of the palace, with its broad stairs and corridors and fine Ionian columns and cornices; and a Landseer or a MacWhirter might find endless subjects in the deer park by which it is surrounded.

The garden is a botanist's paradise. Tropical treasures from Nature's storehouse, collected by successive Directors, are arranged with care and precision characteristically Dutch. It was established in 1817 by Professor Reinwardt, and many distinguished botanists who have left their mark in the scientific world studied here and added to the collections. As may be imagined, the Dutch were not content with a mere show place for tropical specimens, and they established five mountain gardens where experiments are conducted, for practical and scientific purposes, in the cultivation of flowers, plants, vegetables and trees usually found in temperate regions. These gardens are situated in the mountains to the south--at Tjipanas, Tjibodas, Tjibeureum, Kadang Badoh, and on the top of Mount Pangerango, that is to say, at heights ranging from 3,500 ft. to 10,000 ft. The garden at Tjibodas remains, and at the Governor-General's summer villa at Tjipanas one might imagine one's-self in a private garden in Surrey or Kent.

In the buildings at Buitenzorg, facilities are afforded for foreign students, and at the time of our visit a Japanese Professor, from the Tokio University, who had studied for three and a half years in Berlin, was making an exhaustive investigation on scientific lines. Everything that can be of service to students of botany is to be found here in the museum, herbarium and library.

The general herbarium has been arranged on the Kew model. Besides a large collection of plants made by Zollinger between 1845 and 1858, it contains the valuable collections gathered by Teysmann, between 1854 and 1870, throughout the Malay Archipelago. Specimens by Kurz and Scheffer are also found, together with other recent collections of plants from Borneo and adjacent islands. Duplicates from the Herbarium at Kew Gardens and from several of the more famous European herbaria are to be found here, as well as numerous specimens from the botanical institutions of the British Colonies.

The Herbarium Horti contains the necessary materials for the compilation of the new catalogue of the Botanic Gardens, and the Herbarium Bogoriense contains plants to be found in the neighbourhood of Buitenzorg.

Besides specimens of fruits, there is a comprehensive technical collection in the Botanical Museum--fibres, commercial specimens of rattan, india-rubber, and gutta-percha, barks for tanning purposes, Peruvian barks, vegetable oils, indigo samples, various kinds of meal, resins and damars. There is also a section devoted to forest and staple produce.

Fuller details of the gardens and environs of Buitenzorg may be found in the handbook published by Messrs. G. Kolff and Co., Batavia.

One need not be wholly a scientific investigator to appreciate the beauties of Buitenzorg. There is here one view which has been described over and over again, oftentimes in the language of hyperbole--the view of the Tjidani Valley from the verandah of Bellevue Hotel. It is, indeed, difficult to avoid the use of extravagant language in the attempt to describe this beauty spot of Nature.

Though he was writing of a beautiful woman, F. Marion Crawford might have been describing some beautiful landscape when he wrote in his own exquisite style:--

"I think that true beauty is beyond description; you may describe the changeless faultless outlines of a statue to a man who has seen good statues and can recall them; you can, perhaps, find words to describe the glow and warmth and deep texture of a famous picture, and what you write will mean something to those who know the master's work; you may even conjure up an image before untutored eyes. But neither minute description nor well-turned phrase, neither sensuous adjective nor spiritual smile can tell half the truth of a beautiful living thing."

The noble Roman, prompted to exclaim "Behold the Tiber" as he stood on the summit of Kinnoull Hill and gazed upon the fertile valley of Scotland's noblest stream, saw no fairer sight than this veritable Garden of Eden in Equatorial Java.

Seen in the afternoon when the setting sun is casting long shadows over the landscape, the scene in the Tjidani Valley is calculated to arouse the artistic senses of the most insusceptible. Miles away, the Salak raises his majestic cone against the blue sky. In the distance, the mountain forms a purple background for the picture, purple flecked with soft white patches of floating cloud. Beneath his massive form, colour is lost in shadowy but closer at hand are the dark pervading greens of the trees and vegetation, palms and tree ferns and banana trees helping by their graceful form to provide the truely tropical features, while the equally graceful clumps of bamboo sway and creak in the light breeze, their pointed leaves supplying that perpetual flutter and movement which one associates with the birches and beeches of one's native land. The cultivated patches on hillside and valley are rich in colour. Here, the yellow paddy is ripening for the sickle; there, it is bright green; alongside, the patient buffaloes are dragging a clumsy wooden plough through water-covered soil to prepare for the next crop. The lake-like patches reflect weird outlines, and one almost imagines that they catch the brilliant colours from the sun-painted clouds.

Down the valley, crossing the picture from left to right is the river--the Tjidani,--a broad shallow stream when we saw it, in which men, women and children are constantly bathing. From the compact kampong nestling among the trees, the native women, clad in bright coloured sarongs, came with babies, who take to the water as if it were their natural element. Merry shouts of laughter ascend from the valley as the youngsters splash about and chase each other. Everything suggests beauty and peace and contentment, and as one drinks in the scene it is borne in upon one that the comparison with the Garden of Eden is not inapt. What could one wish for more than a beautiful, bounteous land and a happy, contented people!

On the Road to Sindanglaya

Long before sunrise, the sound of merry voices arose from the valley. Already the natives were bathing in the Tjidani, and, when the light came, the primeval life on which the sun had gone down was reproduced in the model-like scene spread out before us. Our kreta for the journey over the Poentjak Pass had been ordered for six o'clock, but with un-Oriental punctuality it was a quarter-past live when the sound of carriage wheels broke in upon our dreams.

While we sipped our morning coffee,--Java hotel coffee has improved since Miss Scidmore anathematised it in 1899,--the sun's rays began to peep over the shoulder of the Salak, and dispelled the morning mists on river and valley. The Salak's fretwork crater stood out entirely clear--his form a purple background to the picture gradually unfolding itself. Nature was everywhere awake. Children's voices in play blended with the songs of early workers proceeding to the fields. Butterflies flitted and floated like detached petals from the flowers. Distance converted human figures into larger butterflies, yellow and orange, pink and blue and red. If it were beautiful in the evening, the scene was enchanting in the morning, and it was with reluctance that we obeyed the summons to early breakfast, and followed our barang into the kreta to begin the journey to Sindanglaya.

It was half-past six o'clock when we were salaamed out of the courtyard of the Bellevue by the hotel "boys."

The kreta was not a handsome affair. In fact it was one of the most disreputable vehicles it has ever been our misfortune to travel in, and when we made acquaintance of the road it had to travel over we must give the owner credit for an abundant faith in the toughness of the kreta. It was a cross between the carromata of the Philippines and a covered dog-cart. There was no aid to mount. By a series of gymnastics we managed to get into the driver's seat--our own was behind his but also facing to the front. In attempting to get there, a sudden movement of the team sent us plunging into the barang, and, in extricating ourselves, head came in contact with the roof and hat went overboard.

Eventually we went off with a bound along the main street of Buitenzorg, scattering the fowls obtaining a precarious living in the roadway, and sending cats and dogs and goats flying for safety into the houses.

We had now time to examine the points of our team. It was composed of three tiny Battak ponies. Two were brown, and one a piebald in which a dingy chestnut strove for mastery with a dingier white. No two ponies were the same in size. One was in the shafts; the other two were in traces alongside. They tapered in size from right to left--the piebald on the left. The giant of the group had a nasty temper, and when lashed, as he was frequently during the drive, vented his anger upon the patient brute doing the lion's share of the work in the shafts. Upon the whole they did their work extremely well, for a great deal was asked of them, and they scarcely deserved the almost continuous flogging to which they were subjected by our driver.

Having travelled over the road from Buitenzorg to Sindanglaya by the Poentjak, without reserve, we advise pilgrims to Sindanglaya to patronise the road from Tjiandjoer. The local guide book remarks with truth: "The main road to the Poentjak being very steep, it does not afford a quick mode of travelling. At Toegoe, an extra team of horses must be added--or karbouws (water buffaloes) used instead of the horses, to pull the carriage at a slow pace up the mountain. Good walkers may, therefore, be advised to do this part of the road on foot, which will take them about an hour and a half. By doing so they will be more able to admire this marvellous work of Governor-General Daendels."

We suspect there is a touch of Dutch satire in this last remark. We have travelled the road, and we are not prepared to parody the old Scot's saying:--

"If you'd seen this road before it was made, You'd lift up your hands and bless General Wade"

Daendels may have been an admirable gentleman, a brave soldier, and a clever administrator, but his engineering skill did not equal his other qualities. It would have been much better if the road had never been made. Surely no highway was ever more badly graded, and we are not astonished that a practical people like the Dutch set themselves to construct a more sensible road by way of Tjitjoeroeg and Soekaboemie. We have seen paved mountain paths in China more inaccessible, but not much, and when we dashed up to the Sindanglaya Hotel at 12.15, we thought more highly of the team that had pulled us over the Pass than we could have believed when we formed our first early morning prejudices.

Needless to say, it is not a road for a motor car. It would be inadvisable to adopt this route to Sindanglaya if the party included ladies. But, if they have a taste for mountaineering, baggage should be sent by rail to Tjiandjoer under the care of some of the party, and carriages dispensed with at Toegoe and the remainder of the journey made on foot. As it was, a good deal of our journey up had to be made on foot over unblinded loose road metal.

Going down the other side the driver led the ponies for about a quarter of a mile, and then joined us in the kreta. That downward trip was the most perilous we ever made in anything that runs on wheels, except a train journey from Manila to Malolos during the Filipino insurrection in 1899. Jack London, the Californian novelist, once told us that life would not be worth living if it were not for the thrills. We had more thrills than we care to have crowded into one hour on that down-grade run from Poentjak to Sindanglaya. Several times, we retrimmed at the request of the driver, and we kept the barang from falling upon him, while he manipulated our three rakish adventurers from Battak. When an unusually severe lurch nearly precipitated us into the deep storm-water channel on the left or the carefully-irrigated paddy fields on the right, Jehu turned round and grinned a grin of fiendish appreciation, whilst we thanked with fervour the merciful Providence who preserved us from destruction, and wondered how long one could hold out with a broken limb, without surgical help, should the worst happen. It is the unexpected that happens. We got to Sindanglaya without any more serious damage than a bottle of Odol distributed amongst our best clothes.

Governor-General Daendels seems to have had a high opinion of this remarkable highway. We read: "The obstinacy with which he carried through his scheme of constructing the main road to the Preanger Regencies across this summit is really amazing. He never shrank from the terrible death-rate among the wretched labourers, nor from the difficulties and enormous cost to keep such a road in good condition, for, especially in the west monsoon, heavy rain-showers are continually washing the earth off the road. Yet it was by no means necessary." Let this be Governor-General Daendels' epitaph!