Max Havelaar;

by Multatuli

So it was arranged that we should all meet in half-an-hour, in the Regent’s large front portico. Verbrugge, who was prepared for this, had many days ago summoned to the capital[8] the heads of the districts, the Patteh,[9] the Kliwon, the Djaksa, the tax-gatherer, some ‘mantries’—in a word, all the native officials who had to assist at the ceremony.

The Adhipatti took his leave and drove home. Madam Havelaar inspected her new house, and was much pleased with it, above all things because the garden was so large: which she liked so on account of Max, who required to be much in the open air. The Resident and Havelaar had retired to dress; for at the solemnity which had to take place, the official costume was indispensable. Hundreds of people were assembled around the house, who had either followed the Resident’s carriage on horseback, or who had belonged to the retinue of the assembled chiefs. The police and other officials were running to and fro with much bustle; in short, all indicated that the monotony of that secluded spot was now broken. [[111]]

Soon the handsome carriage of the Adhipatti drove up the yard. The Resident and Havelaar, glittering with gold and silver, but their movement somewhat impeded by their own swords, entered it, and drove to the Regent’s mansion, where they were received with the music of gongs, gamlangs, and all sorts of stringed instruments. Verbrugge, too, who had put off his muddy costume, had already arrived. The inferior chiefs, according to Oriental usage, were sitting in a great ring, on mats upon the ground, and at the further end of the long gallery stood a table, at which the Resident, the Adhipatti, the Assistant Resident, the Controller, and two native grandees took their seats. Tea and pastry were served, and the simple ceremony began.

The Resident stood up and read the decree of the Governor-General, whereby Mr. Max Havelaar was appointed Assistant Resident of Bantam-Kidool (South Bantam), as Lebak is called by the natives. He then took the official paper, containing the oath which is required of those entering upon employments in general, providing, that “To be appointed or promoted to the employment of——, the candidate has neither promised nor given anything to any one, and will not promise or give anything; that he will be loyal and faithful to his Majesty the King of the Netherlands, obedient to his Majesty’s Representative in the Indies; that he shall punctually obey and cause to be obeyed the laws and [[112]]decrees that have been issued or shall be issued, and that he shall behave himself in everything as becomes a good ——(here Assistant Resident).” This was of course concluded with the sacramental expression: “So truly help me God Almighty.” Havelaar repeated the words of the oath as read to him. The promise to protect the native population against oppression and extortion ought to be considered as included in it, for after swearing that you will maintain the existing laws and regulations, you have only to do so, and you will consider a special oath superfluous. But it seems that the legislators have thought that abundance of fair words would do no harm, for they exact a special oath of the Assistant Residents, whereby that obligation is once more expressly mentioned, and Havelaar once more took God Almighty as a witness, that he “would protect the native population against oppression, ill-treatment, and extortion.”

To a nice observer, it would have been worth while to remark the difference in tone and manner between the Resident and Havelaar on this occasion. Both had often attended such a solemnity; the difference which I refer to was not, therefore, occasioned by their being more or less affected by a novel and unwonted spectacle, but was only a consequence of the very different characters of the two persons. The Resident, it is true, spoke a little quicker than he was used to do, because he only had to read the decree and oaths, which saved him the trouble [[113]]of seeking for the last words of what he had to say; but still all went on with a gravity and a seriousness which must have inspired the superficial spectator with a very high idea of the importance which he attached to this matter.

Havelaar, on the contrary, had something in expression of countenance, voice, and mien, when with uplifted finger he repeated the oath, as if he would say, “Of course, without ‘any oath,’ I should do that.” Any one having a knowledge of men would have had more confidence in his freedom from constraint than in the sedateness of the Resident. Is it not ridiculous indeed to think that the man whose vocation it is to do justice, the man into whose hands is given the weal or woe of thousands, should think himself bound by a few uttered sounds, if his heart does not feel itself obliged even without those sounds to do so?

We believe of Havelaar, that he would have protected the poor and oppressed wheresoever he might meet them, even if he had promised by “God Almighty” the reverse.

Thereupon followed a speech of the Resident, addressed to the chiefs, in which he introduced to them the Assistant Resident as lord-paramount of the district, and invited them to obey him, to perform punctually their duties, and other commonplaces. Then the chiefs were presented, every one in his turn, to Havelaar: he gave his hand to each of them, and the installation was at an end. [[114]]

Dinner was served at the house of the Adhipatti, and the Commandant Duclari was among the guests. Immediately after it was finished, the Resident, wishing to be the same evening at Serang, “because——he——had——so——much——business,” entered again his travelling coach, and so Rankas-Betong was soon again as quiet as can be expected of a small town in Java, inhabited only by a few Europeans, and moreover far from the highway. Duclari and Havelaar soon became acquainted; the Adhipatti seemed to be well contented with his “elder brother;” and Verbrugge said afterwards, that the Resident also, whom he had accompanied a part of his way to Serang, had spoken in very favourable terms of the family of Havelaar, who, on their journey to Lebak, had spent many days at his house; adding, that it was easy to foresee that Havelaar, who was in high esteem with the Government, would very probably be soon promoted to a higher office.

Max and “his Tine” had recently returned from a voyage to Europe, and were tired of what I once heard happily described as “the life of boxes.” They esteemed themselves, therefore, very happy, to inhabit at last, after many changes, a spot where they were at home.