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a protecting State rather than that of a feudal superior, and was represented at the Courts of the several reigning princes by resident functionaries. The Princes are gone; the Residents have become rulers of provinces; they have acquired the power of prefects. Their position is changed, but the name remains.

It is properly those Residents who represent the Dutch authority in the eyes of the Javanese population, who know neither the Governor-General, nor the Senators of the Indies, nor the Directors at Batavia; they know only the Resident and the functionaries who reign subordinate to him.

A Residency, so called--some of them have a population of one million souls,--is divided into three, four, or five departments or regencies, at the head of each of which is an Assistant Resident. Under these the government is carried on by controllers, overseers, and a number of other officers, who are required for the gathering of the taxes, the superintendence of agriculture, the erection of buildings, for the waterworks, the police, and the administration of justice.

In every department the Assistant Resident is aided by a native chief of high rank, with the title of Regent. Such a Regent, though his relation to the Government and his department is quite that of a paid official, always belongs to the high aristocracy of his country, and often to the family of the princes, who have governed in that part or neighbourhood as independent sovereigns. It is very politic in Holland to make use of the ancient feudal influence of the princes, which in Asia is generally very great, and is looked upon by most of the tribes as a part of their religion, because, by making those chiefs paid officers of the Crown, a sort of hierarchy is created, at the head of which is the Dutch Government, in the person of the Governor-General.

There is nothing new under the sun. Were not the Margraves, the Burgraves, of the German Empire, appointed in the same manner by the Emperor, and generally elected from among the Barons? Without expatiating on the origin of the nobility, which is sufficiently evident, I wish here to insert the observation, that throughout the Indies the same causes have had the same effects as in Europe. If a country must be ruled at a great distance, you will need functionaries to represent the central power. Thus the Romans under their system of military despotism chose prefects from among the generals of the legions who had subjugated a country. Such districts thenceforth remained "provinces," and were ruled as conquests! But when afterwards the central power of the German Empire endeavoured to hold the people in subjection by other means than by material force, as soon as a distant region was considered to belong to the Empire from similarity of origin, language, and customs, it became necessary to charge with the management of affairs a person who not only was at home in that country, but was elevated by his rank above his fellow-citizens, in order that obedience to the commands of the Emperor might be rendered more easy by the military submission of the people to him who was intrusted with the execution of those commands; and in this manner the cost of a standing army was altogether or in part avoided at the expense of the public treasury, or, as it generally happened, of the provinces themselves, who had to be watched by an army. So the first Counts were chosen out of the Barons of the country, and if you take the word literally, then "Count" is no noble title, but only the denomination of a person invested with a certain office. I, therefore, also think, that in the middle ages the opinion prevailed, that the German Emperor had the right to appoint "Counts" , and "Dukes" , but that the Barons asserted that they were, as regards their birth, equal to the Emperor, and were only dependent upon God, except as regarded their obligation to serve the Emperor, provided he was elected with their approbation and from among their number. A Count was invested with an office to which the Emperor had called him; a Baron considered himself a Baron "by the grace of God." The Counts represented the Emperor, and as such carried his banners; a Baron raised men under his colours as a knight. The circumstance that Counts and Dukes were generally elected from among the Barons, caused them to add the importance of their employment to the influence which they derived from their birth; and it seems that afterwards, especially when people got accustomed to the hereditary nature of those employments, the precedence arose which these titles had over that of Baron. Even now-a-days, many a noble family, without imperial or royal patent, that is to say, such a family as derives its nobility from the origin of the country itself, a family which always was noble, because it was noble--autochthonous--would refuse an elevation to the title of Count. There are instances of this.

The persons intrusted with the government of such a county naturally tried to obtain from the Emperor, that their sons, or, in default of sons, other relations, should succeed them in their employment. This also happened very often, though I do not believe that the right to that succession was ever proved, at least in the case of those functionaries in the Netherlands, the Counts of Holland, Zealand, Flanders, Hainault,--the Dukes of Brabant, Gelderland, etc. At first it was a favour, soon it became a custom, at last a necessity; but never did that succession become a law.

Almost in the same way, as to the choice of persons,--because there can be no question of similarity of position,--a native functionary is placed at the head of a district of Java, who adds to the rank given him by the Government his autochthonous influence, to facilitate the rule of the European functionary representing the Dutch Government. Here, too, hereditary succession, without being established by law, has become a custom. During the life of the Regent this is often arranged; and it is regarded as a reward for zeal and trust, if they give him the promise that he shall be succeeded by his son. There must be very important reasons to cause a departure from that rule, and where this is necessary, a successor is generally elected out of the members of the same family. The relation between European officials and such high-placed Javanese nobles is very delicate. The Assistant Resident of a district is the responsible person; he has his instructions, and is considered to be the chief of the district. Still the Regent is much his superior--through local knowledge, birth, influence on the population, pecuniary revenues, and manner of living. Moreover, a Regent, as representing the Javanese element, and being considered the mouthpiece of the hundred thousand or more inhabitants of his regency, is also in the eyes of the Government a much more important personage than the simple European officer, whose discontent need not be feared, because they can get many others in his place, whilst the displeasure of a Regent would become perhaps the germ of disturbance or revolt.

From all this arises the strange reality that the inferior actually commands the superior. The Assistant Resident orders the Regent to make statements to him; he orders him to send labourers to work at the bridges and roads; he orders him to gather the taxes; he summons him to the Council, of which he, the Assistant Resident, is President; he blames him where he is guilty of neglect of duty. This peculiar relation is made possible only by very polite forms, which need not exclude either cordiality, or where it is necessary, severity; and I believe that the demeanour to be maintained in this relation is very well described in the official instructions on the subject, as follows, "The European functionary has to treat the native functionary, who aids him, as his younger brother." But he must not forget that this younger brother is very much loved, or feared, by his parents, and in the event of any dispute, his own seniority would immediately be accounted as a motive for taking it amiss that he did not treat his younger brother with more indulgence.

The innate courteousness of the Javanese grandee,--even the common Javanese are much politer than Europeans in the same condition,--makes this apparently difficult relation more tolerable than it otherwise would be.

Let the European have a good education, with some refinement, let him behave himself with a friendly dignity, and he may be assured that the Regent on his part will do all in his power to facilitate his rule. The distasteful command put in an inviting form is punctually performed. The difference in position, birth, wealth, is effaced by the Regent himself, who raises the European, as Representative of the King of the Netherlands, to his own position; and the result of a relation which, viewed superciliously, would have brought about collision, is very often the source of an agreeable intercourse.

I said that such Regents had precedence over the European functionaries on account of their wealth; and this is a matter of course. The European, when he is summoned to govern a province which in surface is equal to many German duchies, is generally a person of middle or more advanced age, married and a father: he fills an office to gain his livelihood. His pay is only sufficient, and often insufficient, to procure what is necessary for his family. The Regent is "Tommongong," "Adhipatti," yes, even "Pangerang," that is, a "Javanese prince." The question for him is not that of getting his living; he must live according to his rank.

While the European lives in a house, his residence is often a Kratoon, with many houses and villages therein. Where the European has a wife with three or four children, he supports a great number of women with their attendants. While the European rides out, followed by a few officers--as many as are necessary to draw up reports on his journey of inspection,--the Regent is followed by hundreds of retainers that belong to his suite, and in the eyes of the people these are inseparable from his high rank. The European lives citizen-like; the Regent lives--or is supposed to live--as a Prince.

But all this must be paid for. The Dutch Government which has founded itself on the influence of these Regents, knows this; and therefore nothing is more natural than that it has raised their incomes to a standard that must appear exaggerated to one unacquainted with Indian affairs, but which is in truth very seldom sufficient to meet the expenses that are necessarily incurred by the mode of life of such a native chief.

It is no uncommon thing to find Regents in pecuniary difficulties who have an income of two or three hundred thousand guilders. This is brought about by the princely indifference with which they lavish their money, and neglect to watch their inferiors, by their fondness for buying, and, above all things, the abuse often made of these qualities by Europeans. The revenue of the Javanese grandees may be divided into four parts. In the first place, their fixed monthly pay; secondly, a fixed sum as indemnification for their bought-up rights, which have passed to the Dutch Government; thirdly, a premium on the productions of their regency,--as coffee, sugar, indigo, cinnamon, etc.; and lastly, the arbitrary disposal of the labour and property of their subjects. The two last-mentioned sources of revenue need some explanation. The Javanese is by nature a husbandman; the ground whereon he is born, which gives much for little labour, allures him to it, and, above all things, he devotes his whole heart and soul to the cultivating of his rice-fields, in which he is very clever. He grows up in the midst of his sawahs, and gagahs, and tipars; when still very young, he accompanies his father to the field, where he helps him in his labour with plough and spade, in constructing dams and drains to irrigate his fields; he counts his years by harvests; he estimates time by the colour of the blades in his field; he is at home amongst the companions who cut paddy with him; he chooses his wife amongst the girls of the dessah, who every evening tread the rice with joyous songs. The possession of a few buffaloes for ploughing is the ideal of his dreams. The cultivation of rice is in Java what the vintage is in the Rhine provinces and in the south of France. But there came foreigners from the West, who made themselves masters of the country. They wished to profit by the fertility of the soil, and ordered the native to devote a part of his time and labour to the cultivation of other things which should produce higher profits in the markets of Europe. To persuade the lower orders to do so, they only had to follow a very simple policy. The Javanese obeys his chiefs; to win the chiefs, it was only necessary to give them a part of the gain,--and success was complete.

To be convinced of the success of that policy we need only consider the immense quantity of Javanese products sold in Holland; and we shall also be convinced of its injustice, for, if anybody should ask if the husbandman himself gets a reward in proportion to that quantity, then I must give a negative answer. The Government compels him to cultivate certain products on his ground; it punishes him if he sells what he has produced to any purchaser but itself; and it fixes the price actually paid. The expenses of transport to Europe through a privileged trading company are high; the money paid to the chiefs for encouragement increases the prime cost; and because the entire trade must produce profit, that profit cannot be got in any other way than by paying the Javanese just enough to keep him from starving, which would lessen the producing power of the nation.

To the European officials, also, a premium is paid in proportion to the produce. It is a fact that the poor Javanese is thus driven by a double force; that he is driven away from his rice-fields; it is a fact that famine is often the consequence of these measures; but the flags of the ships, laden with the harvest that makes Holland rich, are flapping gaily at Batavia, at Samarang, at Soorabaya, at Passarooan, at Bezookie, at Probolingo, at Patjitan, at Tjilatjap.

This I write with bitterness--what would you think of a person that could describe such things without bitterness?

I have yet to speak of the last and principal source of the revenues of the native chiefs, viz., their arbitrary disposal of the persons and property of their subjects. According to the general idea in nearly the whole of Asia, the subject, with all that he possesses, belongs to the prince. The descendants or relatives of the former princes like to profit by the ignorance of the people, who do not yet quite understand that their "Tommongong," "Adhipatti," or "Pangerang" is now a paid official, who has sold his own rights and theirs for a fixed income, and that thus the ill-requited labour of the coffee plantation or sugar field has taken the place of the taxes which they formerly paid their lords. Hence nothing is more common than that hundreds of families are summoned from far remote places to work, without payment, on fields that belong to the Regent. Nothing is more common than the furnishing of unpaid-for provisions for the use of the Court of the Regent; and if the Regent happens to cast a longing eye on the horse, the buffalo, the daughter, the wife of the poor man, it would be thought unheard-of if he refused the unconditional surrender of the desired object. There are Regents who make a reasonable use of such arbitrary powers, and who do not exact more of the poor man than is strictly necessary to uphold their rank. Some go a little further, and this injustice is nowhere entirely wanting. And it is very difficult, nay even impossible, entirely to destroy such an abuse, because it is in the nature of the population itself to induce or create it. The Javanese is cordial, above all things where he has to give a proof of attachment to his chief, to the descendant of those whom his forefathers obeyed. He would even think himself wanting in the respect due to his hereditary lord, if he entered his Kratoon without presents. These gifts are often of such small value, that to refuse them would be a humiliation, and the usage is rather more like the homage of a child who tries to give utterance to filial love by offering his father a little present, than a tribute to tyrannical despotism.

But the existence of such a good custom makes the abolition of a bad one very difficult.

This is known to the Government; and whosoever reads the official papers, containing the laws, instructions, regulations, etc., for the functionaries, applauds the humanity and justice which seem to have influenced those who made them. Wherever the European is intrusted with power in the interior of Java, he is clearly told that one of his first obligations is to prevent the self-abasement of the people, and to protect them from the covetousness of the chiefs; and, as if it were not enough to make this obligation generally known, a special oath is exacted from the Assistant Residents that when they enter upon the government of a province, they will regard this fatherly care for the population as their first duty.

That is a noble vocation. To maintain justice, to protect the poor against the powerful, to defend the weak against the superior power of the strong, to recover the ewe-lamb from the folds of the kingly robber:--well, all this makes your heart glow with pleasure at the idea that it is your lot to have so noble a vocation;--and let any one in the interior of Java, who may be sometimes discontented with his situation or pay, consider the sublime duty which devolves upon him, and the glorious delight which the fulfilment of such a duty gives, and he will not be desirous of any other reward. But that duty is by no means easy. In the first place, one has exactly to consider where the use ends, to make room for abuse;--and where the abuse exists, where robbery has indeed been committed by the exercise of arbitrary power, the victims themselves are, for the most part, accomplices, either from extreme submission, or from fear, or from distrust of the will or the power of the man whose duty it is to protect them. Every one knows, that the European officer can be summoned every moment to another employment, and that the Regent, the powerful Regent, remains there. Moreover, there are so many ways of appropriating the property of a poor ignorant man. If a mantrie says to him that the Regent wants his horse, the consequence is, that the wished-for animal is soon found in the Regent's stables; but this does not mean that the Regent does not intend to pay handsomely for it some time or other. If hundreds of people labour on the fields of a chief, without getting money for it, this is no proof that he makes them do so for his benefit. Might it not have been his intention to give them the harvest, having made the philanthropic calculation that his fields were more fertile than theirs, and would much better reward their labour?

Besides, where could the European officer get witnesses having the courage to give evidence against their lord the Regent? And, if he ventured to make an accusation without being able to prove it, where would be the relation of elder brother, who, in such a case, would have impeached his younger brother's honour? Where would he then find the favour of the Government, which gives him bread for service, but which would take that bread from him, which would discharge him as incapable, if he rashly accused so high a personage as an "Adhipatti" or "Pangerang?"

No, no, that duty is by no means easy! This can be proved by the fact--apparent to every one--that each native chief pushes too far the limit of the lawful disposal of labour and property; that all Assistant Residents take an oath to resist this, and yet that very seldom a Regent is accused for abuse of power or arbitrary conduct.

It seems also that there must be an insurmountable difficulty in keeping the oath: "TO PROTECT THE NATIVE POPULATION AGAINST EXTORTION AND TYRANNY."

The Controller Verbrugge was a good man. When you saw him sitting there in his blue cloth dress-coat, embroidered with oak and orange branches on collar and cuffs, you could not have found a better type of the Dutchman in India, who, by the way, is quite different from the Dutchman in Holland. Slow as long as there was nothing to be done; far from that fussiness, which in Europe is mistaken for zeal, but zealous where business required attention; plain, but cordial to those around him; communicative, willing to help, and hospitable; very polite without stiffness; susceptible of good impressions; honest and sincere, without wishing to be a martyr to these qualities;--in short, he was a man, who, as they say, could make himself at home anywhere, yet without making any one think of calling the century by his name--an honour which, in truth, he did not desire.

On the mode of dealing with these chiefs there are also different opinions. I think that sincerity alone, without any attempt at diplomatic prudence, deserves preference. Be that as it may, Verbrugge began with an observation on the weather and the rain.

"Yes, Mr. Controller, it is the rainy season."

Now Verbrugge knew this very well: it was January; but the Regent knew, too, what he had said about the rain. Then again there was silence. The Regent beckoned with a scarcely visible motion of the head to one of the servants that sat squatting at the entrance of the 'pendoppo.' A little boy, splendidly dressed in a blue velvet jacket and white trousers, with a golden girdle confining his magnificent Sarong round his waist, and on his head the pretty Kain Kapala, under which his black eyes peeped forth so roguishly, crept squatting to the feet of the Regent, put down the gold box which contained the Sirie, the lime, the pinang, the gambier, and the tobacco, made his Slamat by raising both his hands put together to his forehead, as he bowed low, and then offered the precious box to his master.

"The road will be very difficult, after so much rain," said the Regent, as if to explain the long pause, whilst he covered the betel-leaf with lime.

"In the Pandaglang the road is not so bad," Verbrugge replied; who, unless he wanted to hint at something disagreeable, gave that answer certainly a little inconsiderately; for he ought to have taken into consideration that a Regent of Lebak does not like to hear the Pandaglang roads praised, even if they are much better than those of Lebak.

The Adhipatti did not make the mistake of replying too quickly. The little maas had already crept squatting backwards to the entrance of the 'pendoppo,' where he remained with his companions; the Regent had made his lips and few remaining teeth red with the juice of his betel, before he said--

"Yes; Pandaglang is more populous."

To one acquainted with the Regent and the Controller, to whom the state of Lebak was no secret, it would have been quite clear that the conversation had already become a quarrel. An allusion to the better state of the roads in a neighbouring province appeared to be the consequence of the fruitless endeavours to improve the roads in Lebak. But the Regent was right in saying that Pandaglang was more populous, above all things, in proportion to the much smaller surface, and that, of course, united power rendered labour on the great roads there much easier than in Lebak, a province which counted but seventy thousand inhabitants on a surface of some hundred miles.

The Adhipatti looked at him, as if he expected an attack. He knew that "but" might be followed by something disagreeable for him to hear, who had been for thirty years Regent of Lebak. Verbrugge wished to end the conversation, and asked the 'mandoor' again if he saw nothing coming.

"He hears you, sir; he is coming this way. His boy rides after him."

A strong man about thirty years of age and of military appearance, though there was no trace of a uniform to be seen, entered the 'pendoppo.' It was Lieutenant Duclari, commandant of the small garrison of Rankas-Betong. Verbrugge and he were familiar friends, as Duclari had lived for some time in Verbrugge's house, pending the completion of a new fort. He shook hands with him, politely saluted the Regent, and sat down asking: "What have you here?"

"Will you have some tea, Duclari?"

"Certainly not; I am hot enough. Have you no cocoa-nut milk?--that is refreshing."

"What?--Koppi dahoen, tea of coffee-leaves? That I have never seen."

"Because you have not served in Sumatra: there it is common."

All this was spoken in Dutch, which the Regent did not understand. Either Duclari felt that it was not very polite to exclude him in this way from the conversation, or he had another object in view, because all at once he commenced speaking Malay, addressing the Regent:--

"Does the Adhipatti know that the Controller is acquainted with the new Assistant Resident?"

"No, I did not say so;--I don't know him," said Verbrugge, in Malay. "I have never seen him; he served in Sumatra some years before me. I only told you that I had there heard a good deal about him."

The Adhipatti at that moment wanted to call a servant. Some time elapsed before he could say, "that he agreed with the Commandant, but that still it was often necessary to see a person before you could judge of him."

"I did not say so, Duclari."

"No, you did not say so, but I say it, after all you have told me of him. I call any one who jumps into the water to save a dog from the sharks a fool."

"Yes, but a young man may not be witty at the expense of a General."

"You must bear in mind that he was then very young--it was fourteen years ago--he was only twenty years old."

"And then the turkey which he stole?"

"That he did to annoy the General."

"He did it generally on behalf of another; he always was the champion of the weak."

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