Schlickeisen now tried to give the conversation a different turn. “What a beautiful lake that seemed,” said he, “into which we guided the raft. I felt enraptured at the first view. That smooth, unrippled surface, reflecting the surrounding landscape and the sky above it so pure and blue; those curves and creeks which appeared almost lost beneath the dark verdure of the virgin woods; those capes and promontories which seemed longing to meet in the transparent fluid; and though last, not least, that wild forest, like a frame around a mirror, with its fantastic creepers and winding plants, the wood-giants defining their dark yet shining foliage against that lovely sky and intermingling with wonderful orchids and beautiful flowers—all these presented such a charming picture that I almost remained spellbound for the moment.”
Wienersdorf, who had been seated, lost in meditation, seemed greatly attracted by this description. He gradually lifted his head, looked at the speaker and listened attentively. He appeared to have taken leave of his melancholy thoughts and his face reflected the truth of the words spoken by his companion.
“Oh, yes! that lake was indeed lovely,” he said, when the other had ceased speaking. “Especially lovely in its solitude. Everything shone and glittered under the rays of the tropical sun like diamonds just escaped from the hands of the Creator.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Johannes. [[133]]
“What are you laughing at?” Wienersdorf asked, somewhat vexed.
“Continue, continue!” Johannes said, still laughing. “Pray don’t allow your poetical strains to be disturbed by prosaical me. I like to listen to you.”
“I felt exalted,” Wienersdorf continued, “especially as those shores are not poisoned by the smoke of factories; no steamboats ruffle the smooth surface of the lake; no steam-whistle breaks the calm and holy silence of its banks, and no human crowd pursuing gain and practising usury. One felt there alone, alone under the eye of God.”
“All very fine! and I wish I could speak like that,” Johannes interrupted sharply. “How blind man becomes when he is indulging in poetical rhapsody, or rather how differently he views things from what they really are. True, we have neither seen the smoke of factories nor heard the whistle of flying locomotives or steamboats on the lake; no industrious manufacturers are there pushing their way amid restless merchants; but those are subjects more for lamentation than for rapture. Instead of them, what did we find? In place of the dense smoke of factories we saw the spiral wreaths of wood fires, at which the murderer was roasting the captured heads of human beings in order to remove their flesh. Instead of a steam-whistle we heard the war cry of those fiends as they sprang upon their sleeping prey, that cry which serves as a warning of death, from which the attacked can only escape by becoming a murderer himself. And you dare compare all this to a diamond just escaped from the hands of the Creator and say that you felt [[134]]yourself as if in the presence of God? Is that all the glory you give the Almighty? What about the savages who came against us with their naked sword? What about the Dayaks who surrounded us on the raft? Were they not human beings? Alone, and alone with God! No, we were undoubtedly brought into contact with men, and men of the lowest type. Some of them brutes, eager for murder; men who delight in the sound of the death-rattle and the gurgling of blood.”
“Stop, stop!” interrupted Wienersdorf. “I don’t wish to defend head-hunting. I fully endorse your abhorrence of it. But the other Dayaks whom we have seen are surely men who do their share in the labor of life. Those people are content with an existence passed, for months together, in a wilderness where they toil to rob the forest of its treasures—men like Bapa Andong.”
“Bapa Andong and his class have their faults, as I could show you,” said Johannes; “but even they are an exception to the general rule. You will find few rich Dayaks, and this fact, considered with the abundant resources of their forests, will serve to prove what a poor, improvident race they are. Look at their dwellings; they are the most miserable hovels on earth; notice their dress which, when a Dayak is in full costume, consists only of dirty and miserable rags mostly woven from bark and scarcely different from the skin which an animal has for its sole covering. You will have ample opportunities of seeing this in the upper countries.”