From Egypt to Japan

by Henry M. Field

This part of Middle Java is very rich in sugar plantations. One manufactory which we visited was said to yield a profit of $400,000 a year. Nor is this the product of slave labor, like the sugar of Cuba. Yet it is not altogether free labor. There is a peculiar system in Java by which the government, which is the owner of the land, in renting an estate to a planter, rents those who live on it with the estate. It guarantees him sufficient labor to work his plantation. The people are obliged to labor. This is exacted partly as a due to the government, amounting to one or two days in the week. For the rest of the time they are paid small wages. But they cannot leave their employer at will. There is no such absolute freedom as that which is said to have ruined Jamaica, where the negro may throw down his tools and quit work at the very moment when the planter is saving his crop. The government compels him to labor, but it also compels his master to pay him. The system works well in Java. Laborers are kept busy, the lands are cultivated, and the production is enormous—not only making the planters rich, but yielding a large revenue to Holland.

At Jookja the railroad ends. Further excursions into the country must be by a private carriage. Some thirty miles distant is an ancient ruin, which is in Java what the Great Pyramid is in Egypt, with which it is often compared. To reach this, we ordered a carriage for the next morning. Probably the landlord thought he had a Milord Anglais for his guest, who must make his progress through the island with royal magnificence; for, when we rose very early for our ride, we found in front of the door a huge carriage with six horses! The horses of Java are small, but full of spirit, like the Canadian ponies. On the box was a fat coachman, who outweighed both of us inside. Behind us stood two fellows of a lighter build, whose high office it was to urge our gallant steeds by voice and lash to their utmost speed. They were dressed in striped jackets, like circus-riders, and were as agile as cats. Whenever the mighty chariot lagged a little, they leaped to the ground, and running forward with extraordinary swiftness, shouted and lashed the horses till, with their goadings and their cries, the beasts, driven to madness, reared and plunged and raced forward so wildly, that we almost expected to be dashed in pieces. Such is the price of glory! What grandeur was this! When we were in Egypt, riding about the streets of Cairo with two "syces" (servants dressed in white, who run before a carriage to clear the way), I felt like Joseph riding in Pharaoh's chariot. But now I felt as if I were Pharaoh himself.

Our route was through long avenues of trees, of palms and bamboos. The roads, as everywhere in Java, are excellent, smooth as a floor, solidly built, and well kept. To construct such roads, and keep them in repair, must be a work of great difficulty, as in the rainy season the floods come in such force as would sweep away any but those which are firmly bedded. These roads are said to be owing to a famous Dutch governor, Marshal Dændels, who ruled here in the early part of this century. According to tradition he was a man of tremendous will, which he enforced with arbitrary and despotic authority. He laid out a system of highways, and assigned to certain native officers each his portion to build. Knowing that things moved slowly in these Eastern countries, and that the officers in charge might try to make excuses for delay, he added a gentle admonition that he should hold each man responsible; and by way of quickening their sense of duty, he erected gibbets at convenient intervals along the road, and if an official failed to "come to time," he simply had him executed. The spectacle of a few of these native gentry hanging by the roadside had such an enlivening effect on the Javanese imagination, that the roads were built as if by magic. Perhaps the system might be applied with excellent effect to "contractors" in other parts of the world!

But on the best roads this speed could not be kept up for a long time. The stages were short, the relays being but five miles apart. Every three-quarters of an hour we changed horses. The stations were built over the roads, something in the style of an old-fashioned turnpike gate; so that we drove under the shelter, and the horses, dripping with foam, were slipped out of the carriage, and left to cool under the shade of the trees, or rolled over in the dust, delighted to be free.

As we advanced, our route wound among the hills. On our right was Merapé, one of the great mountains of Java—his top smoking gently, while rice-fields came up to his foot. This middle part of the island is called the Garden of Java, and it might be called one of the gardens of the world. Nowhere in Europe, not even in Lombardy nor in England, have I seen a richer country. Every foot of ground is in a high state of cultivation. Not only are the plains and valleys covered with rice-fields, but the hills are terraced to admit of carrying the culture far up their sides. Here, as in Western Java, it was the time of the harvest, and the fields were filled with joyous reapers. To this perfect tilling of the earth it is due that this island is one of the most populous portions of the globe. The country literally swarms with inhabitants, as a hive swarms with bees; but so few are their wants, that everybody seems to "live and be merry." We passed through a number of villages which, though the dwellings were of the rudest, yet had a pretty look, as they were embowered in foliage of palms and bamboos. As the country grew more hilly, our progress was not so swift. Sometimes we went down a steep bank to cross a river on a boat, and then it was not an easy task to draw up the carriage on the opposite bank, and we had to call on Cæsar for help. Almost a whole village would turn out. At one time I counted eighteen men pushing and tugging at our wheels, of course with no eye to the small coin that was scattered among them when the top of the bank was reached. So great was the load of dignity we bore!

At noon we reached the object of our journey in the famous ruins of Borobodo. Sir Stamford Raffles says that all the labor expended on the Pyramids of Egypt sinks into insignificance when compared with that bestowed on the grand architectural remains of Java; but after seeing this, the greatest on the island, his estimate seems to me very extravagant. This is much smaller than the Great Pyramid, in the space of ground which it covers, and lower in height, and altogether less imposing. But without making comparisons, it is certainly a wonderful pile. It is a pyramid in shape, some four hundred feet square, and nine stories high, being ascended by a series of gigantic steps or terraces. That it was built for Buddhist worship is evident from the figures of Buddha which cover its sides. It is the monument not only of an ancient religion, but of an extinct civilization, of a mighty empire once throned on this island, which has left remains like those of ancient Egypt. What a population and what power must have been here ages ago, to rear such a structure! One can imagine the people gathered at great festivals in numbers such as now assemble at pilgrimages in India. Doubtless this hill of stone was often black with human beings (for as many could stand on its sides as could be gathered in the Coliseum at Rome), while on the open plain in front, stretching to a mountain in the background, a nation might have encamped, like the Israelites before Sinai, to receive the law. But the temple is in ruins, and there is no gathering of the people for worship any more. The religion of the island is changed. Buddhism has passed away, and Islam has taken its place, to pass away in its turn. It was Good Friday, in 1876, that I stood on the top of this pyramid, and thought of Him who on this day suffered for mankind, and whose religion is yet to possess the world. When it has conquered Asia, it will cross the sea, and take this beautiful island, from which it may pass on to the mainland of the continent of Australia.

In such musings we lingered for hours, wandering about the ruins and enjoying the landscape, which is one of the most beautiful we have seen in all our travels—the wide sweep in the foreground reminding us of the view from Stirling Castle in Scotland.

But the carriage is waiting, and once more the driver cracks his whip, his horses prance, and away we fly along the roads, through the valleys, and over the hills. At evening we reached Magellang, the centre of one of the districts into which Java is divided, and a town of some importance. It is a curious geographical fact that it stands exactly in the centre of the island. One spot is called the Navel of Java. The Javanese think a certain hill is the head of a great nail, which is driven into the earth and holds the island firm in its place. If this be so, it is strange that it does not keep it more quiet. For if we may use the language of the brokers, we might say with truth that in Java "real estate is active," since it is well shaken up once or twice a year with earthquakes, and is all the time smouldering with volcanoes.

But however agitated underground, the country is very beautiful above it. Here as in all the places where the Dutch "most do congregate," there is a mixture of European civilization with the easy and luxurious ways of the East. Some of the villages are as pretty as any in our own New England, and reminded us of those in the Connecticut valley, being laid out with a broad open square or common in the centre, which is shaded by magnificent trees, and surrounded by beautiful residences, whose broad verandas and open doors give a most inviting picture of domestic comfort and generous hospitality. There is a club-house for the officers, and music by the military band. The Residents always live very handsomely. They are the great men in every district. Each one has a spacious residence, with a military guard, and a salary of six or eight thousand dollars a year, with extras for the expense of entertaining or of travelling, and a liberal pension at the close of twenty years of service.

Magellang is marked with a white stone in our memories of Java, as it was the scene of a novel experience. When we drove into the town, we found the hotel full, which obliged us to fall back upon our letter to the Resident. He was absent, but his secretary at once took us in hand, and requested the "Regent" (a native prince who holds office under the Dutch government, and has special oversight of the native population) to entertain us. He responded in the most courteous manner, so that, instead of being lodged at a hotel, we were received as guests in a princely residence. His "palace" was in the Eastern style, of but one story (as are most of the buildings in Java, on account of earthquakes), but spread out over a large surface, with rows of columns supporting its ample roof, presenting in front in its open colonnade what might be regarded as a spacious hall of audience; and furnishing in its deep recesses a cool retreat from the heat of the tropical sun. A native guard pacing before the door indicated the official character of the occupant. The Regent received us with dignity, but with great cordiality. He was attired in the rich costume of the East. His feet were without stockings, but encased in richly embroidered sandals. He could speak no English, and but a few words of French—only Malay, Dutch, and Javanese. But he sent for a gentleman to dine, who was of Spanish descent, and who, though a native of Java, and had never been out of it, yet spoke both French and English, and thus we were able to converse.