NATURAL HISTORY AND PEOPLE OF BORNEO.
Report of a lecture delivered March 7th in the National Museum of Washington, D. C., by Mr. Wm. T. Hornaday, Chief Taxidermist of the Museum.
The island of Borneo is the home of the Head-hunter, the land of the orang-utan, the Garden of the Sun, and perhaps even the sepulchre of the missing link. There is a possibility of its being the cradle of a great empire which shall be at the zenith of its glory when the greatness of the United States shall have passed away, like that of Greece and Rome, and Washington have become the Athens of America. The center of human progress will probably eventually move into regions now peopled by savages only, and the Kaffir or Dyak of the thirtieth century will perhaps study the archæology of the Yankee with the same interest that we now bestow upon the ruins of Carthage and Mycenæ.
Borneo is situated nearly in the middle of the Malay Archipelago. Its greatest length is 850 miles, greatest width 630 miles, and its area is 192,000 square miles. The whole of New England, the Middle States and Virginia could be set down in the evergreen forests, which everywhere cover its surface, and still be surrounded by a wide belt of jungle. The whole interior is very mountainous. The rivers and creeks are the highways of Borneo, and other roads are practically unknown. Nothing could be more arduous, and full of risk to life and limb, than overland travel through such dense forests and over such rugged mountains as confront the explorer at every step. The interior is practically an uninhabitable wilderness. Even in this age of daring and persevering travelers, no white man has ever crossed the island from one side to the other. The interior is still a land of mystery, whence come marvelous accounts of a race of men with tails, with detailed descriptions of their appearance and habits, stories implicitly believed by many natives. The climate of Borneo is what one would least expect, considering its equatorial position. The temperature is very agreeable all the year round. The mercury usually stands at 80° Fahrenheit in the morning, 88° at midday, seldom reaching 90°, and never exceeding 93°. The annual variation of temperature is only 24°—from 69° to 93°. Usually there are about 200 rainy days in the year, and from 158 to 178 inches of rain.
The vegetation of Borneo is probably unsurpassed by that of any other country in the world, either in luxuriance, economic value, or, the possession of wonderful forms. On the spurs of Mount Kina Balu are found four species of pitcher plants (Nepenthes), of marvelous size and form and gorgeous colors. The largest pitchers of Nepenthes rajah measure thirteen inches in length, twenty in circumference, and hold five pints of water. Among the curiosities of vegetation is the tapang tree, which, in lieu of spur roots, throws out enormous slab-like buttresses. The cocoa palm bears a bountiful crop of nuts, which in turn yield oil and a coarse kind of sugar. The sago palm yields the valuable pearl sago of commerce. The areca palm produces the betel-nut, which, together with a fresh pepper-leaf and a bit of moist lime, is in the mouth of nearly every East Indian native in lieu of tobacco. The nipa palm yields salt, toddy, excellent syrup and sugar, and the leaves are made into kadjangs for boat awnings and roofing material for houses. The gomouti palm produces the best toddy, and the cabbage is esteemed by the natives as food. The nibong palm is valuable for its timber. The primeval forests are rich in timber trees, one of which, the bilian, furnishes wood which seemingly never decays. Bamboo grows abundantly in the interior, and is of great use to the natives.
Of the many fruits of the forest we can only refer to the durian. In size and shape it resembles a roundish pineapple, and is set all over with sharp conical spines, three fourths of an inch long, and stout enough to pierce the hide of a rhinoceros. When the fruit is ripe, the pod opens of its own accord. Although the smell of the pod is most offensive, we find inside four or five large cells, in each of which are from three to five horse-chestnuts, coated thickly with the most delicious paste that ever tickled the palate of man.
The agricultural products consist of sago, gambier, rice, sugar-cane and cotton, which is grown to a limited extent by the Dyaks. The cultivation of coffee is now engaging the attention of enterprising English planters, and may eventually become the most important industry of the island.
The whole island teems with animal life in great variety of forms. It would appear, judging from the success of Mr. A. R. Wallace, to be a paradise for the entomologist. This gentleman once collected seventy-six species of beetles in one day, many of which were new and of remarkable form, and during his stay of fifteen months in Sarawak he took over 500 species. There are a number of handsome species of butterflies, including the magnificent Ornithoptera Brookana. This butterfly is eight inches in width, and of a rich, velvety black color, on which is a broad band of metallic green scales, resembling a humming-bird’s feathers. Of all insects Borneo is richest in moths. At one place, on a mountain top, Mr. Wallace took 200 specimens in a single night, representing 130 species. In the same place he took in twenty-six nights 1,300 specimens of moths.
The fishes include quite a variety of fresh-water species, among which may be mentioned the curious tree-climbing perch, the thread-fish, the celebrated gourami, the jumping-fish, or Periophthalmus, which hops about on land in search of small crustaceans stranded by the receding tide; and the very rare and curious little fish known to icthyologists as Luciocephalus pulcher. The Malays capture a great many fish in small streams by poisoning the water with an extract made from the pounded roots of the tuba plant, and either spearing or netting the fish when they rise to the surface to breathe.
Among the reptiles, the most important is the crocodile, which attains a maximum length of seventeen feet, and is very destructive to human life. It seldom happens that a person escapes or is rescued, after being seized in this burly reptile’s powerful jaws. Some years ago the Sarawak government began a war of extermination against the crocodiles, by offering a reward of 35 cents a foot for all killed in the Territory. In 1878, 266 crocodiles were killed, and $738 paid out in rewards. I discovered a crocodile’s nest containing fifty-five eggs. The native crocodile hunters use hook and line. The hook, or alir, as it is called by the Malays, is a simple contrivance made of wood, tied at the end of a tough bark rope. Another saurian, the gavial, is found in Borneo. It is not unlike that of the Ganges, called by Dr. Gray, Tomistoma schlegelli. This species inhabits the headwaters of some of the rivers, and is rarely seen. In the swampy forest near the coast, small reptiles are very abundant. There are pythons in Borneo twenty-four feet long. Two twelve-foot specimens were brought to me, and a monster python twenty feet six inches long, I purchased alive in a cage, and put to death for its skin and skeleton.
Notwithstanding the contrary opinion of many observers, I think it can not be said with truth that Borneo is rich in bird-life. There are 392 species on the island. The finest bird is the argus pheasant. In life its plumage has a soft, velvety richness which is never seen in a dry specimen. These birds are extremely shy, and are taken by the natives in snares. Hornbills of several varieties are numerous. A bird of great commercial value is the swallow which builds the edible nest, so dear to the palate of the Chinese mandarin. These nests are built in caves, and are of a gelatinous substance resembling white glue. Their shape is like a small soup ladle with a broad, flat handle about an inch long. There are two kinds of nests, the white and the black, the former being most prized. A picul (133 pounds) of these is worth from two to three thousand dollars.
Borneo is favored with a great variety of very interesting mammals. So far as is at present known, there are ninety-six species, thirty-three of which are not found elsewhere. In apes and monkeys the island is especially rich. At the head of the list is the huge, red-haired orang-utan, of which we will speak presently. Then comes the long-nosed monkey, with its immense flabby proboscis. The Nasalis is a large species of monkey, found in the same localities as the orang, always over the water, and usually in large troops. It is something marvelous to watch a troop of monkeys, when terrified by an attack with firearms. They head directly away from the danger, and gallop madly through the tree-tops along the larger branches. Another interesting mammal is the long-armed ape, Hylobates concolor. This animal is extremely wary, and so rapid in its flight as to render pursuit exceedingly difficult. The flying lemur is also found here. Another curious monkey is the tarsier, a small, nocturnal animal. The krah, Macacus cynomolgus, actually swarms in the low trees along the river banks. The clouded leopard, the otter-cat, and civet cats of two species occur, and also several other small members of the cat tribe. Two species of bear are found, the smallest known. The Indian elephant occurs in the extreme northeastern part of the island; also the rhinoceros and tapir. These three are very rare. The thin-haired deer is very common in Sarawak Territory, and is frequently noosed by the natives. The muntjac, or rib-faced deer, is occasionally met. Wild hogs are very abundant and destructive. They sometimes measure forty inches at the shoulder, and are good swimmers. Many beautiful squirrels are found here, and also, remarkable bats, the bear cat, otter, porcupines, and other small mammals which fall an easy prey to the hunter-naturalist.
The orang-utan is found only in Borneo and Sumatra, but is more abundant in the former island. It is most numerous in the Sarawak Territory. This animal occupies the fourth highest place in the animal kingdom—first, man; second, gorilla; third, chimpanzee; and fourth, orang-utan. This name signifies “Jungle-man,” and is derived from two Malay words, “orang,” man, and “utan,” jungle. The latter word is usually corrupted into “otang” or “outang.” The animal itself is rare and difficult to find. In August, 1878, I went on a hunting expedition for orangs to the Sadong River, at the mouth of which I settled and commenced prospecting. One day two men arrived from the headwaters of the Simujan River. They said they had seen two mias (orangs), and suggested that I should go up to their village for a week or so. This I did, and was very successful, taking thirty-one orangs during my first month. In my visit of three months I secured forty-three orangs. Of these twenty-seven fell to my rifle, the remainder being shot for me by natives. Our plan of hunting was to paddle leisurely up and down the streams in a Malay sampan, or dug-out canoe, and watch the tree-tops on both sides as far back as we could see. I was armed with a Maynard rifle and field glass, while three stout Malays or Dyaks furnished the motive power at the paddles. Once in sight of an orang it was a comparatively easy matter to send a ball into its breast. On one occasion, while paddling up the Simujan River on a bright forenoon in September, the Malay suddenly exclaimed “Mias! Mias! Tuan!” The other paddlers backed water at once, but we saw nothing until the boat had been backed several yards. Then we espied simply the knee of a large orang which was lying asleep on a branch about twenty feet above the water, and twenty yards from us. Its body was completely hidden by the foliage, so I stood up in the boat and fired at its leg to arouse it. It started up instantly, growling hoarsely with pain and rage, and started to swing away with a reach that was surprising in its length. Fortunately, the water was deep; there were no screw-pines to hinder our progress, and in a moment our sampan was directly under the old fellow, who then climbed high into the tree-top to escape us. It was a huge old mias chappin, the species with the expanded cheeks, long-haired, big and burly. It growled savagely at us, and one of my Malays kept saying, “Chappin! Mias Chappin! Fire, sir, fire! That’s Mias Chappin. Big—big.” My companions were all intensely excited, but I knew the old fellow was ours, and waited for a good shot. In a moment the opportunity came, and I fired twice in quick succession at the orang’s breast. It stopped suddenly, hung for a moment by its hands, then its hold gave way, and it came plunging downward, snapped off a large dead limb on the way, and fell broadside into the water, with a tremendous splash which sent the spray flying all over us. As we seized the arms and pulled the massive head up to the surface of the water, the old fellow gave a great gasp, and looked reproachfully at us out of his half-closed eyes. I will never forget the strange, and even awful sensation with which I regarded the face of the dying monster. There was nothing in it in the least suggestive of anything human, but I felt as if I had shot some grim and terrible gnome or river-god—a satyr, indeed. It was a perfect giant in size, larger than even the natives had ever seen before. Its head, body and limbs were of grand proportions, and its weight could not have been much, if any, less than 190 pounds. This individual is now in the National Museum, to the extreme left of the group of orangs in the Mammal Hall. The tallest specimen I secured measured four feet six inches, but my largest one, that just described, measured half an inch less in height.
There are two species of orang found in Borneo: Simia Wurmbii, characterized in the males by very broad, flat cheek calossities, and Simia satyrus. English naturalists recognize a third species, Simia morio, but without any tenable grounds for doing so.
Orangs in a state of nature are seldom if ever seen on the ground. At night this animal builds a nest in the forks of a tree or on the top of a small sapling, by breaking off a quantity of green boughs, and piling them in the crotch. On these he lies upon his back, grasping with hands and feet the largest branches within reach. Orangs are perfectly harmless to human beings unless brought to bay on the ground. They are then as fierce as tigers. Their food consists of wild fruits, particularly the durian when in season, the tender shoots of the Pandanus, and the leaves of certain trees.
Although the aboriginal inhabitants of Borneo are divided into several tribes and scores of sub-tribes or clans, they may with reasonable exceptions be described as one body, or sub-race, viz.: Dyaks. In general terms, a Dyak may be described as a Bornean semi-savage, of Malay extraction, with straight black hair, a yellowish brown complexion, and smooth face of the Malay type. He is rather below medium stature, but athletic, and of active and warlike disposition. He is usually clad only in a bark loin-cloth, but sometimes wears a sleeveless jacket, and particularly in war, on which occasions it is made of skins or padded cloth. He is armed with sword and spear, and possibly the sumpitan also for blowing poisoned arrows. He invariably lives in the jungle, in a long house-village set up high on posts. Although he has no religion whatever, and worships nothing, he has profound regard for the rights of property, respects his wife, and treats her and his children with the highest consideration. His sustenance is rice, fowls, pigs and fruit grown by himself, wild animals slain in the forest, and wild fruit, supplemented by a few things which he receives in exchange for wax, gum, rattans and gutta, although these are generally given for brass-wire, beads, cloth and other ornaments. He has no written languages, builds no monuments, makes no pottery, and only one kind of coarse cloth, carves rather neatly in wood, and works but little in iron. His bearing is independent, dignified, respectful. He is a trustworthy friend, but a dangerous foe.
In my judgment the aboriginal inhabitants of Borneo may be divided into four great tribes: The Kyans, Mongol Dyaks, Land Dyaks and Sea Dyaks. This classification differs very widely from any hitherto proposed.[K]
The Kyan tribe is numerically the greatest, probably exceeding a quarter of a million. They are less civilized than the other tribes, are exceedingly warlike and aggressive. They decapitate their slain enemies, and keep the cleaned skulls as trophies.
The Mongol Dyaks inhabit northeastern Borneo. They have been greatly influenced by contact with the Chinese, with whom they have intermarried. In appearance they resemble the other Dyaks.
The Land Dyaks inhabit the country lying between the Sadong River and the headwaters of the Sambas, extending southward to the Kapurce, and an unknown distance beyond. They live inland, and differ in certain customs from their neighbors, the Sea Dyaks. The Land Dyaks are the only people in Borneo who burn their dead. The warriors, though brave, are not fond of war for its own sake, nor are they possessed with an insatiable desire for plunder, as are the Kyans, and formerly the Sea Dyaks also. Their social customs closely resemble those of the Sea Dyaks.
The Sea Dyaks consist of seven clans, and occupy all the territory between the Rejang and Sadong rivers, from the sea-coast southward to the Kapurce. The Sarawak government estimates their number at 90,000, and the Land Dyaks at 35,000. The color of a typical Sea Dyak is dark brown, with a strong tinge of yellow. His hair is long and of a glossy black, and falls on his shoulders in graceful locks.
The Dyaks are happy and contented. Their wants are few, their diseases fewer, and their crimes fewer still. In hospitality, human sympathy and charity, they are not outranked by any people living, as far as I know, and their morals are as much superior to ours as our intelligence is beyond theirs. If happiness is the goal of human existence, the Dyak is much nearer to it than we. In this instance, at least, the highest civilization has not evolved the most perfect state of society. Is it possible that man reaches his highest moral development in a state of savagery? Is it then really true that as we increase in civilized intelligence, our capacities and propensities for wickedness increase likewise, and if so, will this always be the case with mankind?
[K] For elaborate discussions of these tribes the reader must consult Mr. Hornaday’s book, “Ten Years in the Jungle, with Rifle and Knife,” which has been announced by its publishers, Messrs. Charles Scribner’s Sons, as nearly ready for circulation.
I am here because God has sent me to do a work that no other being could do but myself. Had there not been room for me, God had not made me. Had I not been needed in America, God had not placed me in America. Had I not work in the nineteenth century, I had not been born.… I have a place—am sent of God on a mission, and if I perform it God shall acknowledge that I have done His will.—From Sermons by Bishop Simpson.
THE WHAT-TO-DO CLUB.[L]
The ordinary village fails to get the best out of life. A candid examination of average boys or girls of the town or country, brought up without the influence of outside advantages, too often reveals the fact that they are not, in refinement, in resources or in thought, the equal of city young people. There is a painful feeling that they are narrow. Indeed, they feel this themselves, and complain that they have “no opportunities.” At the same time the narrow life does not shield them from temptation, and there are almost as many young men in America going to ruin under the narrowing influences of country and town life as in the whirl of cities.
Among women the influence is evident. They are, it is true, largely free from the temptations of frivolity, extravagance and dissipation, but they are subject to temptations of no light weight. Their few interests lead them to gossiping, prying and criticising. Lines of class distinction are drawn so painfully tight that their lives become narrow in sympathies and associations. Very largely they lack independence of spirit to help them dare untried lines of conduct. Many of our American villages and “corners” are the most trying places in the land in which to live. Few dare to try improvements, enthusiasm meets little or no response, ideas travel slowly. Village life looks ideal to one wearied by the rush and wickedness of a city, but there is in it a peculiarly benumbing influence which is all the more difficult to contend against because so silent in its action. Yet there are two of the best conditions for high living in the surroundings of town and country. There are leisure and quiet. Anything which will impregnate this rare life with enthusiasm and energy will furnish the happiest conditions for noble action and steady growth.
It is not an easy problem for a reformer in such a locality, but we believe Mrs. Campbell in her “What-to-do Club” offers a solution which will rarely fail among girls and women. “The What-to-do Club” is an unpretending story, but it has a practical grip on this question. It introduces us to a dozen or more village girls of varying ranks. One has had superior opportunities; another exceptional training; two or three have been “away to school;” some are farmers’ daughters; there is a teacher, two or three poor self-supporters—in fact, about such an assemblage as any town between New York and Chicago might give us. But while there is a large enough company to furnish a delightful coterie, there is absolutely no social life among them. The differences in their opportunities they have exaggerated until they feel that their interests are as unlike as those of Fijis and Bostonians. They look at each other with curiosity merely, and all of them are bored by the dullness of their lives. Mrs. Campbell puts a wise woman into their midst. This woman’s experience has taught her that the barrier between women of different sets is largely their ignorance of each other, their belief that they have nothing in common. She finds something in common for these girls. By a little tact, exerted at a village gathering, she interests them in herself. A second stroke of policy finds them gathered in her parlor and she clinches her work by giving them an insight into practical employments—not pleasures, mind you—but work, for women at home. The interest excited quickens them all. They become alert, capable, quick-witted, and suddenly see in each other much of which they had never before dreamed. The false barriers between women invariably fall before a common interest. Show them how strangely their minds and lives are alike and the sympathy of similarity makes friends of them. So the girls of the “What-to-do Club” found, at any rate. Their meetings became voyages of discovery. Their discoveries were El Dorados to many a one of their number perplexed by the want of pin-money, or worse still, of bread-money. Simple, practical, at-home occupations for leisure hours was the first study, and it is marvelous what a number they found. One young lady undertakes strawberry culture, and in a single season clears, off a quarter of an acre, $154.65. Better still, her vigorous out-of-door life transforms a pair of pale, hollow cheeks until they are rosy and plump, and awakens healthful interest which soon makes a happy heart out of a very discontented one. A half acre put into small fruits, currants, raspberries and blackberries, opens the way for an active young philanthropist to start a fund for a future kindergarten for her father’s employés. It does more. It opens the young lady’s eyes to the dignity of work, puts a bond of sympathy between her and the people who work for her, and strengthens the common sense of her whole family. Our strawberry girl tries poultry and finds it the most delightful of employments. It pays her, too, one season’s work yielding a clear profit of $86.56 on an expenditure of $73.40. Bees, with their fascinating history, their exciting family affairs, their industrious honey making, and their clear, unfailing profit came in for one young Busybody’s attention, and in a single season this young merchant clears $113.94. One girl tries silk worms and sends to the club this report of her summer’s work:
| One ounce of eggs | $5 00 | |
| Fixtures for cocoonery | 5 00 | |
| $10 00 | ||
| 36 pounds stifled cocoons at $1 per pound | $36 00 | |
| Profit | $26 00 |
One of the best discoveries which the club makes is of the possibilities in fruit canning, jelly making, and, best of all, fruit evaporating. Like “Dorothy” of the “club,” when we read of the wonders of the latter we burned to “live in an orchard and evaporate everything that grows.” How wonderful it seemed to these girls to whom fruit preserving had been bounded by the limits of the fruit closet and the demands of the table, to put up jelly for market, to “take in” canning for people too busy to do their own, to dry fruit in that wonderful evaporator, which would sell in any market in the country.
It is not strange that these new ideas put into their lives new possibilities. It showed them that there was something to do at home, something which was more than a paying employment. For these out-of-door interests are more. They are health-giving, awakening pursuits. The girl that engages in such enterprises wins more than a few dollars; she cultivates the business faculty and arouses a dormant independence which makes a new creature out of her. This new interest in the lives of Mrs. Campbell’s girls gave them an interest, at first in purely money making enterprises, but it soon knit them into friends. Their friendship spread until they found themselves reading, studying, planning, as one body. The influence in the story energizes the community. It is, perhaps, quite possible that in a real club we might meet with more discouragements, but it is impossible that we fail entirely.
Town and country need more improving, enthusiastic work to redeem them from barrenness and indolence. Our girls need a chance to do independent work, to study practical business, to fill their minds with other thoughts than the petty doings of neighbors. A What-to-do Club is one step toward higher village life. It is one step toward disinfecting a neighborhood of the poisonous gossip which floats like a pestilence around localities which ought to furnish the most desirable homes in our country.
[L] The What-to-do Club. A Story for Girls. By Helen Campbell. Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1885.