Max Havelaar;

by Multatuli

“But,” asked Duclari, “as you have told us several things, is it true that you fought so many duels at Padang?”

“Yes, I fought very often. There were many reasons for that. I told you already, that the favour of the Governor in such an out-of-the-way place is the rule with which many measure their friendliness. Most of them were very ill-disposed towards me, and this often showed itself in rudeness. I, on the other hand, was very sensitive. A salutation not acknowledged, a taunt on the ‘folly of one who would take up the cudgels with the General,’ an allusion to my poverty, my state of starvation, the poor food, that seemed to be the reward of moral independence—all this, you conceive, made me bitter. Many, above all amongst the officers, knew that the General liked to see people duelling, and, above all, with one so much in disgrace as I was. Perhaps, therefore, my sensitiveness was intentionally excited——likewise I sometimes fought for somebody else, whom I considered to be wronged.——However this may be, duelling was the order of the day, and it often happened that I had two meetings in one morning;——there is something very attractive in duelling, particularly with the sabre. Yet you understand [[251]]that I would not do such a thing now, even if there were as much reason for it as in those days.——Come here, Max!——no—don’t catch that little insect—come here. I say you must never catch butterflies. That little creature at first crept for a long time as a caterpillar on a tree,—that was no happy life. Now it has just got wings and likes to flutter in the air and enjoy itself, seeking food in the flowers and hurting nobody:—look, is it not prettier to see it fluttering there?”

So the conversation went on from duelling to butterflies, from the compassion of the merciful man to his cattle to cruelty to animals, from the “loi Grammont”[9] to the French Parliament at Paris where that law was accepted from the republic, to many other things.——At last Havelaar got up. He excused himself to his guests, because he had business to attend to.

When the Controller visited him the following morning at his office, he did not know that the new Assistant Resident had ridden out the day before to Parang-Koodjang after the conversation in the fore-gallery, and had only just returned.

I beg the reader to believe that Havelaar was too courteous to speak so much at his own table as I have represented in the last chapters, by which I make him appear to monopolize the conversation, and neglect [[252]]those duties of a host which prescribe that guests should take or decline the opportunity “of showing what they are.” I have selected a few of the many materials that were before me, and I could have prolonged the table-talk for a longer time with less difficulty than the breaking it off has cost me. I hope that what I have communicated will be sufficient to justify in part the description which I gave of Havelaar’s character and mind, and that the reader will observe with some interest the adventures that are in store for him and his family at Rankas-Betong. The small family lived on in peace. Havelaar went out very often during the day, and spent half the nights in his office. The intercourse between him and the commandant of the garrison was most agreeable, and also in his familiar conversation with the Controller no trace could be discovered of difference in rank, which often makes social intercourse in the Indies so stiff and disagreeable; whilst the inclination of Havelaar to lend assistance where he could, was often to the advantage of the Regent, who also was very fond of “his elder brother;” and finally, the amiability of Madam Havelaar contributed much to the agreeable intercourse between the few Europeans and the native chiefs. The correspondence about the service with the Resident of Serang showed a mutual cordiality: the orders of the Resident were given with courtesy, and very punctually followed.

The household of Tine was soon in good order. After [[253]]we had waited for it a long time, the furniture arrived from Batavia. Ketimons (gherkins) were pickled; and in future when Max related anything at table, it was not for want of eggs for the omelet, though the manner in which the little family lived showed very clearly that the intended economy was strictly adhered to.

Madam Slotering seldom left her house, and only now and then joined the Havelaar family at tea in the front veranda. She spoke little, and always kept a vigilant eye upon every one who approached her own or Havelaar’s house; people got accustomed to what they called her monomania, and soon paid no more attention to it.

All seemed to breathe peace; for Max and Tine it was comparatively a trifle to submit to the privations which are inevitable at a place in the interior with but little communication. As no bread was baked in the neighbourhood, they had no bread. We could have had it brought from Serang, but the expenses of transport were too high. Max knew as well as others, that there were many means of having bread brought to Rankas-Betong without payment; but UNPAID LABOUR, that Indian cancer, was horrible in his eyes. So there was much at Lebak that could be got for nothing, through power, but could not be bought for a reasonable price, and in such cases Havelaar and his wife willingly endured privation. To be sure, they had undergone other privations. Had not the poor woman lived for months on board of an Arab vessel, without [[254]]other bed than the deck, without other shelter from the heat of the sun and the showers of the rainy season, than a small table, between the legs of which she had to squeeze herself? Had not she been obliged to satisfy herself in that vessel with a small allowance of dry rice and dirty water? And had not she in these and many other circumstances always been contented if she could only be with her Max?

One circumstance, however, at Lebak caused her pain:—little Max could not play in the garden, because there were so many snakes. When she perceived this and complained of it to Havelaar, he promised the servants a reward for every snake they could catch, but on the first day he paid so many premiums that he was obliged to withdraw his promise for the future; for even in ordinary circumstances, and without the economy so necessary for him, this payment would soon have exceeded his means. It was resolved that little Max should henceforward leave the house no more, and that when he wished to take an airing, he would have to content himself with playing in the fore-gallery. Notwithstanding this precaution Tine was always anxious; and above all in the evening, as it is known that snakes often creep into the houses, and, seeking warmth, hide themselves in the bed-rooms. Snakes and suchlike vermin are to be found everywhere in the Indies; but in the chief towns, where the population live closer together, they are of [[255]]course more rare than in wilder places such as Rankas-Betong. If Havelaar could have decided to have his estate cleared of weeds, as far as the border of the ravine, the snakes would still from time to time have showed themselves in the garden, but not in such large numbers as was now the case. The nature of these reptiles makes them prefer darkness and lurking-holes to the open daylight, so that, if Havelaar’s grounds had been kept clean, the snakes would not then, as it were, unwillingly have lost their way, and left the weeds of the ravine. But Havelaar’s grounds were not cleared, and I wish to explain the reason of it, as it gives another opportunity of a view of the abuses that reign almost everywhere in the Dutch Indian possessions.

The houses of the persons intrusted with power in the interior are built on common lands, if one may speak of such as existing in a country where the Government appropriates all.