Brunei, the capital of Borneo and the seat of the government, is a water-city of about twenty thousand inhabitants. The palm-thatched houses of which it for the most part consists, are built on piles so as to be above the river at high tide. From one of the adjacent low hills the view of this “Venice of the East” is a most novel one—indeed, unique in its way; and although the town is nearly fifteen miles from the mouth of the river, yet a moderate-sized gunboat can anchor in the broad water-way in the very centre of the city, and within a few yards of the Sultan’s Istana. There is a rather awkward bar at the entrance to the river. A trading steamer from Singapore calls here once a month to bring letters and goods for the Sultan and a few Chinese merchants, and to take back sago, which is the main export. In some cases the blocks of houses are connected by bridges formed of long palm stems lashed together with rattans; but, as a rule, all general communication must be carried on by boats. Some of the inhabitants grow a few flowers and herbs in boxes of earth; and occasionally papaw trees and gourds of different kinds are thus cultivated. Little rafts, or floating tree-trunks, are moored to the piles which support the houses for the accommodation of ducks and fowls.
The market held on the river every morning is one of the most singular sights of the place. Here you may see a hundred or more little boats containing fruit, fish, rice, and other produce, for sale or barter. Among the petty traders the Brunei women are most prominent, and many of them present a most singular appearance, the hats they wear being made of neatly plaited Nipa leaves, and being from two to three feet in diameter, they serve the purpose of both head covering and umbrella, and they screen the whole body of the wearer from the hot sun. Most of the women to be seen in the market are old and coarse featured—in many cases positively ugly—reminding one of the orang utan as they glance at you from beneath their wrinkled foreheads, their mouths overflowing with betel-nut juice the while, their repulsive black teeth being worn off level with their gums; their more beautiful sisters are secluded according to the etiquette of Islam; the nobles and richer Malays have wives and slaves in abundance. A European lady who visited the court here and was admitted into the women’s apartments, tells me that some are passing fair, with tiny hands and feet, straight noses and liquid eyes, prototypes of those black-eyed damsels who are to attend all true believers of the Prophet in the gardens of Paradise.
The principal traders are Chinamen, who have floating warehouses singularly like the Noah’s arks of early memory. Brunei is the Sheffield of north-west Borneo, the manufacture of knives, parongs and krisses being largely carried on; and on one of the little islands is a primitive foundry where gongs, brass guns, cooking-pots, betel boxes, &c., are cast. Some of these articles are ornamented with well-designed figures in relief, and would not be any disgrace to a European manufacturer. The models and methods of casting are singularly like those of our own artizans. I visited one rude armourer’s shop, and much admired the exquisite finish of some weapons he had made. The peculiar long swivel guns or small cannon cast here are now rarely used, except as currency, being valued at about thirty dollars per cwt. In the good old times slaves could be purchased here at thirty dollars, or a picul of gun-metal each; but at the present time the Malays complain of the low purchasing power of money—i.e. of brass guns—just as do most people nearer home.
The Sultan’s palace or Istana, like nearly all the other dwellings here, is built on piles over the water, and is a shabby, tumble-down looking establishment. In front is a large audience chamber, containing a few old gilt framed mirrors and silvered globes, and there are, on occasion, a round table and a few rickety chairs. The Sultan himself is now an old man, over eighty, and so avaricious that he will do anything for the sake of a few dollars.
The Government here is corrupt, and, indeed, but little more than nominal; and if his people of the outlying districts refuse to pay tribute, or to obey his mandates, he has no means of enforcing his demands. He has a good many wives, and female slaves or concubines, but no children. I visited the palace in company with Mr. Peter Veitch and Inche Mahomed, the British Consular agent at this port. We were honoured with an audience by His Highness. His two nephews, Pangeran Matassan and Pangeran Anak Bazar, were present, and welcomed us before the Sultan appeared. They were intelligent men, and it was a pleasure to hear Malay spoken by them in all its purity. Tea was offered us, together with the long Nipa leaf cheroots so largely smoked by Malays and Borneans of all grades.
In about five minutes His Highness appeared, dressed in a long Arab coat, a sarong, and having a small black cap on his head. That the portraits of Pope Pius IX. resemble him very much has repeatedly been observed by visitors here. He walked slowly, bearing rather heavily, as I thought, on a long staff, which had two short prongs at the lower extremity. He came forward, and we shook hands, after which he sat down in an arm-chair on the opposite side of the table. He told us that he was now a very old man, and that every day found him weaker. I thanked him for a passport he had given me some months before for the journey inland to Kina Balu.
He seemed interested in hearing of the great mountain, and asked several questions. He appeared astonished to hear it was so cold there; and inquired as to the tobacco and rice crops. He also expressed his regret that being now old and infirm, he could not undertake a journey to the mountain himself, of which, he observed, he had heard several accounts derived from natives who had accompanied Mr. Low and Mr. St. John.
On leaving the Sultan’s, we visited a foundry situated near the house of the minister of war or the Tumongong; also the house of a gold worker, who made most of the trinkets, rings, and ear ornaments worn by the Brunei ladies. The proprietor, an old man, showed us some prettily designed specimens of native gold work, the ear ornaments being especially singular. It is the fashion for many of the ladies of Brunei and the interior to cut a large gash in the lobe of each ear, and in these holes are inserted gold or silver ornaments, as large as a wine cork. If of gold, they are mostly made of beaten work; the highly decorated convex ends, however, are generally cast in little moulds formed of clay and wax, or dammar. The crucibles used for melting the metal are of the size and shape of half a hen’s egg, being formed of fine porous clay. These are heated over tiny charcoal fires, the heat being augmented with a blow-pipe.
In some of the ornaments we observed rudely cut rock crystals, or Bornean diamonds; and part of a waist-belt contained a dozen fine pearls, but most of their beauty was lost by bad setting. The stock in trade of a gold-worker here is of the most simple description. A rough block of hard wood serves as a bench or anvil, and is perforated with large and small holes, into which iron pins of various sizes are inserted for various uses. Hammers of iron and wood, a chisel or two, a pair of shears, wax and clay for models, or matrices and earthen crucibles for melting up the Spanish gold pieces, are all the plant he deems necessary.
There is not much originality in the designs used. Some of the Brunei ladies must have fingers of the most delicate proportions to be able to wear some of the rings I saw here for repair. Smiths’ shops are pretty much the same all over the world. We visited one here, and except that iron and tools were less plentiful, it was pretty much like a village smithy in England. Sheffield files and rasps are used even in this out-of-the-way part of the East. Most other tools were of Brunei make. Choppers, knives, parongs, and krisses represent the manufactures. A Bornean bellows is peculiar, being made of two upright wooden cylinders four or five feet high, and connected at the bottom with the iron pipe which enters the fuel. In each cylinder is a wooden disk edged with soft feathers stuck on with glue, and to each a piston rod of wood is attached. A man standing behind the cylinders works them up and down alternately, and in this way a constant current of air is supplied to the fire. The old smith was much struck with a breech-loading Reilly shot gun Mr. Veitch had with him, and he took the trouble to go across a rickety bridge of bamboo into his dwelling-house to fetch a parong, or Brunei sword, of which he asked our opinion. Considering the rude appliances of this primitive smithy, the sword, in fine damascene work and finish, was perhaps as wonderful in its way as the gun. On returning to the ship, which was anchored in the river below the town, we saw a gathering of natives on a grassy knoll a little above the old ruined Consulate, and were informed that a public execution was going on. It appears a China trader had been murdered and robbed on the Trusan river, and two of the Trusan Muruts had been arrested, and were being executed for the crime, although it was by some thought that the murder had actually been committed by Brunei men. At any rate, of these poor Muruts scapegoats were made. A grave was dug beneath a tree, and a noose connected with a bit of board was passed over their heads. A stout stick was now inserted in the rope, and two or three turns—Spanish winch fashion—finished the poor fellows’ existence, whether innocent or guilty. We did not land, but watched the proceedings as well as we could from the bridge of the vessel with glasses. Summary justice is the rule here.