“Bah!” cried van Rheijn somewhat contemptuously, “what does a merchant know about such things? It is very much as if I should give a dissertation on the state of trade in madapollams.”
“You are right, quite right,” laughed Grenits, “I confess myself wrong. Let the cobbler stick to his last. But now for William; what does he write about?”
“Here is his letter,” said van Rheijn; “but I ought first to tell you that I sent him a short account of the changes which have taken place in his district of Banjoe Pahit since he left it. I told him what lamentable influence the too compliant temper of his successor has had upon the condition of the population. To this letter of mine I have his reply, and I need hardly tell you that his views on that subject are not couleur de rose. But you had better hear what he says:
“ ‘All you have told me, dear Edward, about the state of affairs at Banjoe Pahit has made me very sad. Agriculture neglected, breach of contract a daily occurrence, and the fatal passion for opium increasing day by day! Alas, alas! can all this be justly put to the account of my successor? Should you not rather cast the blame upon me? Such terrible changes surely never take place suddenly. No, no, if indeed matters have changed for the worse as rapidly as you say, then I fear there must have been some antecedent cause for this wretched state of decay. I will tell you frankly, my friend, that my conscience bitterly upbraids me. It tells me that I have not always done that which it was my bounden duty to do; and that I have not set my face against the abuse of opium as sternly and as rigidly as I should have done. It is true, of course, that the opium den was established at Kaligaweh before I came to the place; and, so far, my conscience is clear. But the evil had not then assumed the proportions which makes it such a terrible curse at present. At that time there were still a great number of inhabitants who never touched opium. I might then, had I only been firm enough, have insisted upon the fact, that the opium den ought not to be maintained there—that, in fact, it had no reason to exist, inasmuch as it did not, at that time, provide for any local need. I did so, it is true; but weak and timid as I was, I did so in a half-hearted way. I did not forcibly enough insist upon the terrible fact that this same opium den was a most insidious means of seduction; and that, in the end, it must inevitably bring the poor people to ruin and misery.
“ ‘That is where I feel I am to blame. I may, perhaps, in self justification, try to persuade myself that, as a civil servant, I was bound to do all I could to augment the national income, that, by not opposing with all my might the use of opium, I was helping, as far as I could, to redress the balance of our national expenditure; that, even had I tried to check the havoc wrought by this baleful drug, I could have expected no assistance from my superior officer van Gulpendam, nor yet have hoped for any support from the authorities at home; that, on the contrary, they would between them have crushed me like a bit of glass had I dared so much as to lift up my little finger against this infamous stop-gap of our national finances. I have tried to persuade myself that any such action on my part must have plunged my relations, who for the present and, as far as I can see, for the future, are entirely dependent upon me, into the direst poverty—
“ ‘But, my dear Edward, all this sophistry profits me nothing; my conscience refuses to be lulled by any such specious arguments. For conscience is inexorable, and it loudly cries out that I have failed to do my duty as public servant in not vigorously standing up for the poor natives to whose protection I was pledged. Alas! the past cannot be recalled!
“ ‘If it were lawful, under any circumstances whatever, to rejoice over the death of any fellow creature, I think I might rejoice over the death of Singomengolo—that detestable bandoelan who has caused so much trouble and misery. But, why do I talk of exulting over his death? Some equally worthless fellow will no doubt be found to take his place and to undertake the dirty work of an opium spy. The farmers are wealthy enough to create, so to speak, such creatures every where, and the Government! why—the Government—yes, it will, with a smile, pocket the foully earned money amidst the applause of the Dutch nation.’ ”
“I say!” exclaimed Grenits, sarcastically, “don’t you think it is about time to cry ‘Shut up?’ ”
But van Rheijn went on quietly reading, not heeding the interruption:
“ ‘I was just now blaming myself for not having carried out my duty more strictly. I hardly need tell you that I have made a solemn vow to act very differently in the future, and that I have determined henceforth to protect, to the utmost of my powers, the natives against the horrors of opium. But, that is more easily said than done. For, whom can I protect out here in Atjeh? The native population? Good Lord! all I see about me in this place resembles anything in the world rather than a native population. There is no such thing. Just let me tell you what is going on here. General van Swieten landed in 1873, and from that moment the natives have retired as our troops have advanced. When he returned to Europe we were holding a piece of ground which was completely deserted by the natives, and on which not a single Javanese was ever seen. I ought to except the narrow strip of land between the river Atjeh and the sea, the so-called dominion of Marassa, which, at most, supported no more than two thousand souls, and these, let me tell you, were by no means addicted to opium. Later on, when Colonel Pel took the command, things did not improve, on the contrary, the state of affairs grew gradually worse and worse. The natives were more determined than ever in their resistance to the hated invaders; and though that officer did try to introduce something like order into that most puzzling place Kotta Radja, which was entrusted to his care, and it must be said, did so with conspicuous success, yet daily his position became, if possible, one of greater isolation. Very soon no other communication with the surrounding natives became possible than by means of arms; and when they did meet it was not for the purpose of amicable conferences, but only to do one another as much injury as possible. You know all about this, for history must have told it you. The very first thing, indeed, which arises and flourishes under the folds of our Dutch ensign is not a house of prayer or a school, but an opium den. That is the first token of civilisation and the first blessing our rule brings with it. Among these conquered races there was not, as yet, a single man who would smoke the stuff; but yet an opium farmer had to be found. And why? Look you, Edward, when I put that question seriously to myself, then I can find no other answer than this one, namely: that it was necessary to make the Dutch people believe that the time of public expenditure on Atjeh had passed, and that now the place was beginning to pay. You may remember what a shout of joy was uttered by the daily press in Holland when, in the year 1875, the news arrived that the retail sale of opium in Atjeh was producing a yearly sum of 190,000 guilders, that is 16,000 guilders a month. A few, those who were capable of reflection, shook their heads doubtfully; but not even they were able to estimate the extent of the evil which this apparent gain would inevitably entail.