There is but little sociability in Batavia. The people live in a thoroughly retired manner, each usually receiving only a small circle of friends in his own house. On this point, as on many others, our own experience is directly contrary to the actual state of matters, seeing that during our entire stay one invitation followed on the heels of another;—but those who live here for years together, even under the most favourable auspices, have repeatedly assured us that life in Batavia is unsociable and tedious.
This is the misfortune of all countries "beyond sea," where Europeans do not settle permanently, but flock thither with the intention, after a certain number of years of industry and activity, of returning home with a fortune made by their own personal exertions. We see this in Brazil, in the West Indies, in the Western coast of South America; in a word, in all tropical or sub-tropical countries where, on account of climatic considerations, the greater part of the European population is changed every ten years, and is
recruited by fresh arrivals from Europe. How out of place, accordingly, does social or intellectual life appear in such countries, as compared with the colonies settled in temperate climates, in North America, at the Cape, in Australia, in New Zealand, in all of which the immigrant population is of a fixed character, building up for themselves a second home, and clinging with love and gratitude to the soil that gives them sustenance, and on which their sons will grow up, under the invigorating influences of free institutions, into free, prosperous, self-relying men!
Even in Batavia the majority of the European residents change every eight or ten years; instances such as that of Colonel von Schierbrand, of men who during 30 years have never once left the island, never yet seen a railroad, being of rare occurrence.
Of the numerous friends whom we were so fortunate as to make during our stay in Java, and to whom such heart-felt thanks are due for their hospitality and the warm interest they took in the objects of our Expedition,[69] many have since left the island for ever, and by their return to Europe left many a lamentable vacancy.[70] The more deserving
of acknowledgment is the constant endeavour of the present Colonial Government to attract to itself fresh intelligence, and so not alone stimulate the scientific activity of the present, but also provide for the filling up of the various posts by properly qualified persons. The magnificent and expensive works which have been published of late years in Java by men of science, are the splendid fruit of that noble-minded support, and it is much to be regretted that the Government does not extend this liberality to their political system,—that despite the glorious example in their own immediate neighbourhood of the results of English Free Trade, Government still cramps the energies of the colony with monopolies and privileges, and thereby checks the development of a country, which, alike by its position and its manifold natural advantages, bids fair to be one of the wealthiest and most prosperous countries in the world.
At seven A.M. on the 29th May, the Novara weighed anchor in the roads of Batavia, after a stay of 23 days. Our next visit was to be paid to the Philippine Archipelago,—to the flourishing island of Luzon, or rather to Manila, the most important settlement in the entire group. This was the pleasantest trip throughout the whole voyage. The distance, some 1800 nautical miles, was achieved in 17 days, with delightful weather, and balmy south-west monsoons.[71] By the
14th June we were in sight of the coast of Luzon, and on the following day we ran on before the freshening monsoon into the broad, beautiful gulf of Manila. As we passed between the rock La Monja (the Nun) and "El Corregidor," or Governor's Island, which lie right in the channel, we met the Cleopatra, a large English screw-steamer, which had a freight of 1150 Chinese, who were to be imported into the Havanna as so-called "free" labourers. These poor wretches came from Amoy, and, as we afterwards learned, had been put on board so scantily provided, and so little cared for by the authorities, that thus early, during the voyage from Amoy to Manila, only 700 miles, eleven of these "passengers" had died, and the captain found himself compelled to bear up for the nearest harbour in consequence of a sort of malignant fever having broken out on board, so virulent that there were deaths occurring almost every day. We shall treat more particularly of this hideous trade in men, which is chiefly carried on by the Portuguese, when describing our visit to Macao.
The Bay of Manila is a beautiful land-locked basin, of such splendid proportions that when we had passed Governor's Island the city of Manila was still below the horizon. We anchored on the afternoon of 18th June in the harbour of Cavite (seven nautical miles south of Manila), because during
the S.W. monsoon this harbour is more sheltered, and therefore safer for ships, than the shallow open roadstead of the capital. Cavite, which boasts a fort, an arsenal, a dockyard, and a cigar manufactory, lies on a low, narrow tongue of land projecting into the bay. Whoever may have first set foot at Cavite, on the soil of the Island of Luzon, so renowned for its natural magnificence of scenery, must involuntarily feel that his anticipations have been sorely disappointed; he will with all possible diligence make the best of his way from the glaring white sands and black walls of the fortress here to Manila, the next object of our hopes. A small screw plies daily between Cavite and the last-named city, and this vessel also conveyed the Expeditionists from Cavite to the capital of the Philippine Archipelago.