In many places in this vicinity the tall canari-tree is seen raising its high crest, and there flocks of cream-colored doves, Carpophaga luctuosa, gather to feed on its fruit. Their loud, continuous cooing leads the hunter a long way through the jungle. Among the limbs of the lower trees are seen the long-tailed doves, Carpophaga perspiclata. On the banks of the dry brook, near our house, are bunches of bamboos, through which flit fly-catchers, Muscicapidæ, and the beautiful Monarcha loricata, a slender bird about as large as a martin, of a blue above, and a pure, almost silvery white beneath, except on the throat, which is covered with scale-like feathers, of a rich metallic blue-black. So far as is known, this beautiful bird is only found on this island. In the bushes and shrubbery is constantly heard the cheerful note of a bird, the Trobidorynchus bouruensis, somewhat larger than our robin. By day I enjoyed this Robinson Crusoe life very much, but the mosquitoes proved such a torment by night that we could scarcely sleep. A great smouldering fire was made under our hut, but its only effect was to increase our misery, and make the mosquitoes more bloodthirsty. We were frequently disturbed also by several yellow dogs, which came to crunch what chicken-bones the cook had thrown away, and to upset every thing around the house that was not already in a state of stable equilibrium. Afterward, when all was still, occasionally a heavy crash sighed through the deep woods, caused by the falling of some old tree, whose roots had been slowly consumed by the fires that prevail in the neighborhood during the dry season.
At the end of a week my hunter had preserved the skins of sixty-three beautiful birds, including specimens of six species that I had not secured before. We now returned to Kayéli; and though there were only eight white persons in the whole place, I could nevertheless feel that I was returning to civilization, and that I could speak some other language than Malay.
The village of Kayéli is really composed of eleven separate parts, or kampongs, all situated on a low, marshy place, a couple of hundred yards back from the sand-beach. They are separated from each other by a little stream, or kali, and each has its own rajah, and formerly had its own little square mosque, for all these eleven tribes are Mohammedans, and keep separate from each other, because they lived in different parts of the island when the Dutch arrived. In the centre of this village is a large, square lawn, formed by the fort, the residence of a controleur, and a few other houses. Back of the lawn is the Christian kampong; for in every village where there are Mohammedans and Christians, each has a separate part to itself. Occasionally, instead of a healthful spirit of rivalry, a more bitter hostility springs up than existed between the Jews and the Samaritans, and finally the weaker party is obliged to migrate, as in the case mentioned in regard to the inhabitants of Bonoa.
From Valentyn we learn that, according to native accounts, as early as A. D. 1511, ten years before the arrival of the Portuguese, the Sultan of Ternate sent out expeditions which subjected all the tribes of this island. In 1652 a treaty was made between the sultan and the Dutch, that all the clove-trees on the island should be uprooted. The natives opposed this measure to the best of their ability, but after a resistance which lasted five years, they were completely subjected, all their clove-trees were destroyed, and they were obliged to remove to Kayéli Bay, and live under the range of the Dutch cannon. Since that time (1657), the clove-tree has never been introduced again. Previous to the expedition of the Sultan of Ternate in 1511, the shores of the island were occupied by the Malays, who had already subjected the earliest inhabitants of the island of which we have any knowledge. During my stay at Kayéli I saw several of them, though they are always shy about entering the village. Like the Alfura of Ceram, they resemble the Malays in stature and general appearance, but are distinguished from them by their darker color, and by their hair, which is frizzly, not lank like that of the Malays, and not woolly, like that of the Papuans. As in Ceram, many of them suffer from that unsightly disease, icthyosis, in which the skin becomes dry and comes off in scales. Their houses are described as the most miserable hovels, consisting of little more than a roof of palm-leaves resting on four poles, with a kind of platform a foot or two above the ground, where they sit and sleep. They are all free, and slavery is wholly unknown. Mr. T. J. Miller, who was formerly resident here, took much pains to gather all the information possible in regard to them. He states that they have divided the island into Fennas or tribes, each of which has a chief. Instead of living together in villages, like the Malays, they are scattered over their whole territory. Several of these chiefs continue to acknowledge one of the Mohammedan rajahs, or, as they are named by the Dutch, “regents,” in the village of Kayéli, as their superior. Formerly, each was obliged to send one young girl to its regent for a bride every year, but the Dutch have long since relieved them from such an unwelcome exaction. In former times also they were compelled to pay their regent a certain part of their rice and sago, and provide men to row his prau or to carry his chair, if he proceeded by land, but they have been freed from this onerous service, and the Malays who live in the village with the rajah are obliged to perform such offices for him. In regard to marriage, each man buys his wife, her price, according to their laws, depending on the rank of her father, as in Ceram, but a man is not, however, required to cut off a human head before he can be allowed to marry, as is the custom in that island. Instead, therefore, of being fierce head-hunters, as the Alfura of Ceram, they are mild and inoffensive. They believe, according to Mr. Miller, in one Supreme Being, who made every thing, and is the source of all good and all evil. They believe in evil spirits. Prayer leads to prosperity; the negligence of this duty to adversity. Through the love that this Supreme Being had for man, whom He had created, He sent him a teacher, Nabiata, who lived among the mountains. He gave the will of his Master in seven commandments, namely: 1. Thou shalt not kill nor wound. 2. Thou shalt not steal. 3. Thou shalt not commit adultery. 4. Thou shalt not set thyself against thy fenna. 5. A man shall not set himself up against the chief of his tribe. 6. The chief shall not set himself up against him that is over his or other tribes. 7. The chief over more than one tribe shall not set himself up against him who is placed over all the tribes. Nabiata also taught that, though the body perishes, the soul shall still continue to exist. They who have kept the foregoing commandments—for all the acts of men are recorded by this Supreme Being—shall dwell far above the clouds near the Omniscient One. They who have done wickedly shall never rise to the abode of the happy nor remain on earth, but continually, in solitude and sorrow, wander about on the clouds, longing in vain to join their brothers who are above or beneath them. Nabiata also instituted circumcision, which was performed on both sexes when they attained the age of eight or ten years. From the introduction of this rite we may infer that this Nabiata was a Mohammedan teacher, probably an Arab, who had found his way to this region on a Javanese or Malay prau, that had come to purchase cloves. Finally, according to their legend, Nabiata made men of birth his disciples and teachers, and ascended to the abode of the good from whence he came.
One day, while at Kayéli, I received a most polite invitation to attend a feast at one of the rajah’s houses. The occasion was the shaving of a young child’s head. An Arab priest began the rite by repeating a prayer in a monotonous nasal chant, five others joining in from time to time by way of a chorus. After the long prayer was ended, a servant brought in the child, and another servant followed carrying a large plate partly filled with water, in which were two parts of the blossom of a cocoa-nut-palm, a razor, and a pair of shears. The child was first carried to the chief priest, who dipped his fingers in the water, placed them on the child’s head, and then cut off a lock of hair with the large shears. The lock of hair was then carefully thrown into the water along with a guilder. We all did the same. Tea and small cakes made of rice were then served, and “the feast” was ended. The child was one year old; when it becomes eight or nine it will have to submit to that abominable custom prevailing among both sexes of all ranks of Mohammedans, filing the teeth. This, I was informed, was done with a flat stone, or a fragment of slate, and sometimes even with a piece of bamboo. The object is to make the teeth short, and the front ones concave on the outer side, so as to hold the black dye. The Christians never file theirs, and the Mohammedans always ridicule the teeth of such natives by calling them “dogs’ teeth,” because they are “so white and so long.”
At another time I received an invitation to attend a wedding-feast, but, when I reached the house, it proved to be a feast that the married couple give to their friends a few days after the wedding. As on all such festive occasions, the house and veranda were brilliantly lighted, and on either side from the house out to the street were a number of posts made of the large soft trunks of bananas. On their tops large lumps of gum were burned. Between them were arches made of young leaves of the cocoa-nut palm, arranged as I had previously seen in Nusalaut. The bride (who, of course, is to be spoken of first), to our surprise, did not prove to be a young and blooming lass, but already in middle life, yet a suitable helpmeet at least for the bridegroom, who was an Arab, and had married this, his second wife, since he came to Buru, only four months ago. The former wife he had sent back to her parents, much against her wishes. When a wife desires to leave her husband, she cannot do so without his consent, which the husband generally grants, choosing the less of two evils, and, moreover, it is regarded as very ungallant to retain an unwilling mate; but, while travelling in Sumatra, I saw one husband who would not allow his wife another choice, but his was a very peculiar case. His father was a Chinaman, and therefore, as the descendants of the Chinese do, he had shaved his head and wore a cue, and was a Chinaman also; but, becoming desperately enamoured of a Mohammedan lass, he concluded to yield to her unusual demand, that he too must become a Mohammedan before he could be accepted. She soon repented of her proposal, but he replied that he had suffered so much for her sake, he would not release her from her vows—such are the unlimited privileges granted the husband by the laws of the false Prophet.
While at Amboina I was surprised one day, just before dinner, to see a strange servant appear with a large platter containing fifteen or twenty kinds of fishes, fruit, and the various inimitable mixtures made by the Chinese, in whose quarter of the city we were residing. The gentleman with whom I was living, however, explained the mystery. There was to be a wedding in a house near by, and the father of the bride was one of his hired men, and those nice preparations were intended as a present, that is, in form, it being expected that only two or three of them would be taken—and that was quite all a European palate would desire. This was repeated for three or four days. Meantime the father of the bride had hired a house where other friends were received and feasted, and the father of the bridegroom also received and entertained his friends in like manner. At length came an invitation to attend the finale of this long ceremonial. We first walked to the house of the bridegroom. Large Chinese lanterns brilliantly lighted the veranda and the adjoining narrow lane, which was thronged with men and boys. We then visited the house where the bride was waiting to receive her lord. The piazza opened into a large room, and on one side of it was a smaller one, closed by a red curtain instead of a door. No one but the lady-guests were allowed to enter where the bride was sitting. The larger room contained many small tables loaded with delicacies, mostly of Chinese manufacture. Not to be unsocial, we sat down and sipped a cup of boiling tea, and observed the assembled guests while all were waiting for the coming of the bridegroom as in good Scripture times. In the opposite corner was a table surrounded with Malay ladies. It also was covered with sweetmeats, but room was soon made for the more necessary siri-box; a liberal quid of lime, pepper-leaves, and betel-nut was taken by each one, and, to complete the disgusting sight, an urn-shaped spittoon, an inseparable companion of the siri-box, was produced, and handed round from one to another as the occasion demanded. A shrill piping was now heard down the street, and every one rushed out on the veranda to see the approaching procession. First came boys with wax-candles, and near them others carrying the presents that the bride and the bridegroom had received. Then came the bridegroom himself, supported by his friends, and surrounded by candles arranged at different heights on rude triangular frames. He was dressed in a Malay suit of light red, and wore a gilded chain. I had been told that, when he should attempt to enter the room where the bride sat waiting, the women would gather and persistently dispute his right to proceed, and here, in the distant East, I thought to myself, I shall see an illustration of the maxim, “None but the brave deserve the fair.” On the contrary, so far from manifesting any disposition to oppose him and prolong the ceremony, they only made way for him to enter the bridal-chamber as quickly as possible. As my friend and I were the only white persons present, we were allowed the especial favor of entering also. On one side of the room was a small table covered with a red cloth, and on this were two gigantic red wax-candles. Behind the table sat the bride, arrayed in a scarlet dress, with a white opaque veil concealing her face, and fastened to her hair. As the bridegroom approached, she slowly rose. Placing his hands with the palms together, he bowed three times in the same manner as the Chinese address the images in their temples. She returned the salutation by also bowing three times, but without raising her hands. Now came the exciting moment. She remained standing while he stepped forward and commenced pulling out the pins that held fast the opaque veil which hid her beauty from his longing eyes. Not being very skilful in this operation, a couple of the maids-in-waiting assisted him, and, by degrees, was revealed a face that was at least one shade darker than most of the ladies near her, and I could but think, if that really was the first time her husband had ever seen her, he must feel not a little disappointed. However, his countenance remained unchanged, whether such a saddening reflection crossed his mind or one of delightful surprise. He then passed round the table to the side of his bashful bride, and both sat down together and were stupidly gazed at. In the opposite end of the room was the bridal-bed. The four posts rose above the bed nearly to the ceiling, and supported a mosquito-curtain which was bespangled with many little pieces of tinsel and paper flowers. Both the bride and bridegroom were Mohammedans, and this marriage was nominally according to the Mohammedan usage, but it should perhaps be more properly regarded, like most of the Malay customs at the present day, as combining parts of the rite in China and Arabia with that which existed among these nations while they observed the Hindu religion, or continued to remain in heathenism. The boys usually marry for the first time when about sixteen, and the girls at the age of thirteen or fourteen, though I was once shown a child of nine years that was already a wife, and mothers eleven or twelve years old are occasionally seen. The great obstacle to marriage in all civilized lands—the difficulty of supporting a family—is unknown here. Children, instead of being a source of expense, are a source of income. Until four or five years old, the boys do not usually wear any clothing. Their food costs very little, and all the education they receive still less, or nothing at all. The average number of persons in one family in Java, where it is perhaps as large, if not larger, than elsewhere, is estimated at only four or four and a half. The fact that children help support their parents secures for them such attention that they are never entirely neglected. Polygamy is allowed here as in other Mohammedan lands, but only the wealthier natives and the princes are guilty of it. The facility with which marriages are made, and divorces obtained, is one cause why it is not more general. In regard to the evil effects of polygamy, and the ideas of this people in respect to the sacred rite of marriage, Sir Stamford Raffles, who was Governor-General of Java, most truthfully remarks: “Of the causes which have tended to lower the character of the Asiatics in comparison with Europeans, none has had a more decided influence than polygamy. To all those noble and generous feelings, all that delicacy of sentiment, that romantic and poetical spirit, which virtuous love inspires in the breast of a European, the Javan is a stranger; and in the communication between the sexes he seeks only convenience and little more than a gratification of an appetite. But the evil does not stop here: education is neglected, and family attachments are weakened. A Javan chief has been known to have sixty acknowledged children, and it too often happens that in such cases sons having been neglected in their infancy become dissipated, idle, and worthless, and spring up like rank grass and overrun the country.”
A MALAY OPIUM SMOKER.
In the little village of Kayéli there were only three Chinamen, but one of them was an opium-seller. He was agent for another Chinaman at Amboina, who had bought the privilege of selling it from the Dutch Government, who “farm out” or grant this privilege in every district to the highest bidder. From this article alone, the government obtains in this way an income of four or five million dollars. Opium, as is well known, is the inspissated juice obtained from the capsule of the white poppy, Papaver somniferum. Its Malay name is apyun, which, coming from the Arabic afyun, shows at once by whom it was introduced into the archipelago; the same people, as Mr. Crawfurd remarks, who made them acquainted with ardent spirits, and at the same time gave them a religion forbidding both. It is imported from India, and the poppy is not cultivated in any part of the archipelago. Barbosa mentions it in a list of articles brought from Arabia to Calicut in Malabar, and in his time its price was about one-third what it is now. The man who sells it is obliged to keep a daily account of the quantity he disposes of, and this account is open to the inspection of the government officers at all times. So large is the sum demanded by the government for this farming privilege, and so great are the profits obtained by the Chinese, who are the people that carry on most of this nefarious traffic, that the price the Malays are obliged to pay for this luxury limits its consumption very considerably. When imported, it is usually in balls five or six inches in diameter. It is then soft and of a reddish-brown color, but becomes blacker and harder the longer it is kept. It is slightly elastic, and has a waxy lustre, a strong, unpleasant odor, and to the taste is bitter, nauseous, and persistent. To prepare it for smoking, it is boiled down to the consistency of thick tar. While it is boiling, tobacco and siri are sometimes added. A lamp is then lighted, and a small quantity is taken up on a piece of wire as large as a knitting-needle. This is held in the flame of the lamp until it melts and swells up as a piece of spruce-gum would do under similar circumstances. During this process it is frequently taken out of the flame and rolled between the thumb and forefinger. It is then placed in a small hole in the large bowl of the pipe, and the wire being withdrawn, a hole is left for inhaling the air. The bowl of the pipe is now placed against the lamp and the smoke inhaled with two or three long breaths, which carry the fumes down deep into the lungs. By this time the small quantity of opium in the bowl of the pipe is consumed. It is then filled as before, and this process is repeated until the eyelids become heavy and an irresistible desire to sleep possesses the whole body. Its immediate effect is to produce a passive, dreamy state. This is followed by a loss of appetite, severe constipation, and kindred ills. When a man has once contracted the habit of using it, it is impossible to reform. Greater and greater doses are required to produce the desired lethargic effect. The evil results of this vice are well shown in the accompanying photograph of a Malay, where the victim, although only in middle life, has already become so emaciated that he is little more than a living skeleton. The rude platform of planks covered with a straw mat, on which he is sitting, is his bed, while stupified with his favorite drug. A pipe, of the customary form, is seen in his right hand. Being too poor to own a lamp, he has instead a small fire of charcoal raised on the top of an urn-shaped vessel of earthen-ware. By his side are seen vessels for making tea, and by copious draughts of that stimulant he will try to revive his dead limbs by and by, when he awakes from his contemplated debauch, and finds his whole energy gone, and, as it were, his very life on the point of leaving the body.