Part 24

The next morning I drove about Djokjakarta in search of photographs and found the place much more attractive than I had supposed. One long avenue of trees in particular impressed me; on alternate sides were the tamarind and the canary tree, forming a perfect arch overhead. This continued for a long way, and there were various other shaded streets that attracted my attention.

Djokjakarta is a place of importance, the capital of a native State; the Sultan preserves some semblance of power and lives in regal style, keeping up all the ceremonials of his high office. This was one of the last provinces to yield to Dutch rule. There is a Dutch resident to whom the Sultan must pay deference and from whom he accepts advice. We did not see the Sultan, but we saw four sons of his out driving, dressed in red and each carrying a red silk umbrella, the emblem of royalty.

The life at Djokjakarta is much like that of old Java, and the peasants are said to be of a higher type than those corresponding to the coolie class in India and Ceylon, many of this class in Java being Sudanese. There are several strains of blood in Java, and a mixture of Arab ancestry with Mohammedan faith; for centuries, Java passed through many transitions, and it would be interesting to trace her history backward.

Djokjakarta being but twelve miles from the Indian Ocean, the heat is never oppressive, and the breezes from sea and mountain produce an agreeable temperature, as I found one morning, much to my delight. The bazars were not enticing, but there were various attractive articles for sale at the hotel,--cardcases made with tiny feathers, portemonnaies, woven baskets, and, above all, sarongs, the product of a large factory near by, which has been fostered by English and Dutch women as a kind of philanthropy for the teaching and employment of girls, as the "manageress" at the hotel explained to us. These sarongs are four and a half yards long by one and one-half wide, the fabric, though heavier, being similar to calico. The patterns are quite artistic, and the process of designing, drawing, stamping, and weaving is complicated.

The Water Castle was formerly like a summer-house in an Oriental garden, with its underground chambers and all manner of appliances for luxurious ease. It has now fallen into decay; the aqueducts and fountains are stilled; the statues are covered with moss, and the gardens are a perfect tangle. It was the device of a Portuguese architect of a century ago.

The streets were less crowded in Djokjakarta than one would expect in a city which ranks the fifth in Java; everywhere there were groups of really happy-faced children, and mothers looking like mere girls, with infants carried usually on the left hip, sometimes in a sling over the shoulders. In Java, as in other countries we have visited, there is no middle-aged class among the women; they are either young or old, although in reality not old. One is considerably handicapped in Java unless Dutch or the dialect can be spoken, for, in learning from others the true inwardness of things, we are powerless without language, however much we might supply certain physical needs by the use of pantomime.

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MAOS, February 25th: At 2 P.M. on the 25th of February, we took the train for Maos, in order to break the long railway journey to Batavia. The ride of three and a half hours carried us through the same diversified landscape of fertile fields or plains of rice, palms, and bamboo, with mountains in the distance. One feature, however, deserves special mention; it was a country roadway, visible at frequent intervals for at least two hours, and lined on each side with tall trees which met in many arches. This was evidently a highway or postroad, worthy of emulation in other lands, and planned by the Government, a veritable blessing to man and beast.

We passed a comfortable night in Maos at the Government rest house, Staats, and left at the early hour of 6 A.M. for a return journey to Batavia. We found that when we reached a junction, our train diverged over a new route, giving us a different outlook, not unlike our first experience, but, it seemed, with finer mountain scenery. First we climbed to an altitude of about twenty-two hundred feet; then gradually descended, our objective point, Batavia, being at sea-level. Many of the high mountains showed cultivation to the very top, while the plains with their alternate groups of bamboo, cocoanut, and other palms, were green with the new rice crop, the cultivation of this commodity being different in Java from that in Burma. Great care is expended on the culture of the rice, the tiny plants first being put in small wet enclosures; then, when sufficiently developed, they are planted separately by the small army of workers, in receptacles made for them, and set with the greatest regularity. The workers consist usually of women or young girls, and the varied colors of their dress--or undress--presented a marked feature. We also saw more coffee cultivated than on any previous route, and it is to be regretted that the blight of ten years ago has taken this old form of industry from the Javanese. Strange as it may seem, we had no Java coffee in Java, the land of the celebrated brand; nor did we see anything but a very strong extract of coffee (to which was added a large quantity of milk), good and convenient, no doubt, but not at all like the real article.

We arrived in Batavia during the afternoon; the hotel wore a homelike air, and we passed a restful twenty-four hours with only a drive as the regular programme. I have already treated of the marked natural advantages of Java, and of the temples; too much cannot be said of this "Garden of the East," with its varied landscape of alternating mountains and plains, its wealth of trees in myriad forms, its shrubs which in their luxuriance seem tree-like, and its tangle of vines and blossoming flowers. But it appeared to me as if this holiday side of nature and the workaday aspect of the life in Java did not harmonize, and I wondered if this condition was caused by Dutch thrift being grafted on to the native Javanese temperament, which in its incipiency was simple and disinclined to much exertion. Certain it is that the women of Java, while apparently contented, look careworn and have deep lines in their faces, and the perfect cultivation of the soil, which is largely done by women, shows that constant toil must be required of them. Added to this is the care of a bevy of little ones--more infants to the square yard than I had ever seen before.

These true children of Nature are seemingly trusting and believing, and they ask no better fate than they have. The question obtrudes itself, Would life have been easier if the English had not again ceded Java to Holland in 1816, after only a five years' tenure? This query regarding the Orient in general also comes up: Is it better to leave the peoples undisturbed in their ignorance of the broader life and higher conditions, or to try to teach them ways foreign to their nature,--efforts which might end in failure? This is the problem that confronts the philanthropist at every turn, and were it not for the possibility of alleviating the condition of womanhood, it might be well to abandon all charitable effort. Scientists believe, nevertheless, that while it will be a slow, laborious process, much can be done in time; it behooves us who have our homes in a country where it is a pleasure to live not to turn a deaf ear to appeals like that made by Ramabai, who at Pina, near Bombay, is laboring to uplift the condition of child widows in India. The great volume of missionary effort is also turned in the same direction, and through schools and hospitals the social workers are paving the way toward better conditions, in spite of the criticism of some who derisively speak of the failure to "save souls," without thinking that the first step is to emancipate the body.

When I regard the condition of the women of the Orient, I feel like starting an immediate crusade--in Egypt they are slaves or toys; in India, bound by the iron laws of custom and caste, sad and dejected; in Burma, happy because independent on business and property lines, thanks to the English Government; in Ceylon, cheerful but with no recognized positions; in Java, children of toil; in Siam, fearless and intrepid in temperament, but subject to the conditions of the Orient; in China, Manchuria, and Korea, seemingly impassive but bound by traditional customs, enforced for centuries; in Japan, bright and winsome, true children of Nature, still held by the customs of years, however much the barriers are being broken down by the progressive policy of the country.

As tourists remaining but a short time in a place, we did not have the pleasure of meeting the higher class of women in any of the countries visited, but I saw a Javanese lady in Kyoto who dined several times with an English lady; her self-possession and dignity of manner were pleasant to note, while her responsive smile showed quick intelligence. She had been the wife of an English gentleman for twenty years, but still wore the graceful kimono, which showed her good sense. Strange as it may seem, the founder of Buddhism, with all his teaching of love to mankind, filial duty, kindness to animals, and moral precepts in general, failed to extend to women, for whom he is said to have had little respect, any encouragement other than the abolishing of the law of caste. But, notwithstanding, he had many women followers, some even becoming nuns.

The vehicles of the countries we visited were always individual, and I have failed to allude to the peculiar sadoe of Java, a two-wheeled cart drawn by a small horse, a seat for four persons being placed over the axle. The driver is comfortable, but the passengers with no backs for support are tossed about unmercifully. This sadoe has a canopy top; it is like the jinrikisha, convenient for a shopping excursion, but I pity any one who attempts to take a long drive in it! One morning I went out alone, and in turning a street corner I was nearly thrown and my packages flew in every direction. I felt that I needed a little sympathy, but the imperturbable Dutch coachman(?) never even smiled, so I concluded it was an every-day occurrence. A dignitary with attendants on each side carrying umbrellas is amusing.

The variety of fruit is greater in Java than anywhere else we had been; the bananas, however, while fine to look upon were coarse and had little flavor; the pineapples were not as excellent as in Ceylon, nor were the mangosteens. A photograph I have shows at least twenty-five varieties of fruit; the pisang being universally used, as well as the rambutan, durian, pomalo, and papaya. The bread-fruit and jack-fruit grow to enormous size.

At luncheon (riz taffel) I again noticed a peculiar dish being served. This consisted of rice, vegetables of various sorts, four or five kinds of meat, and a wonderful mixture of condiments, the variety sometimes including twenty, all placed in one receptacle similar to a deep soup-plate and evidently enjoyed by the partakers; this was only one course of the luncheon!

The Dutch ways of dressing in Java are truly remarkable; for instance, sarongs, thin jackets, and almost bare feet were often seen in a dining-room. To me the culmination of this unconventionality came later; the heat was so oppressive that after luncheon I was glad to enjoy a rocker on my gallery, and might have envied the couple on the adjoining gallery had I been differently educated. For, strangely, the lady wore only a sarong of thin material, a diaphanous jacket, and very low sandals; she might almost have posed as a life model. As a foil, her husband appeared in pajamas.

At 3 P.M. on February 22nd, we took a train for Priok port, which was nine miles distant. The steamer Orange (of the Dutch line) was waiting for us, and we were soon sailing for Singapore. Once more we passed the equator without one thrill of excitement, and, after thirty-six hours, were at Singapore, where we were at once transferred to the steamer Nuen-tung (the Chinese for "good luck"), North German Lloyd line, bound for Bangkok, Siam, the trip requiring four and a half days. The steamer was small and only fairly comfortable; the service was Chinese. A pleasant feature of the arrangement was an improvised dining-room on the upper deck; here all our meals were served, and most of our time passed, the temperature being high enough to prevent the chilling of the food, which is an indication that the heat must have been rather oppressive when in our staterooms. Hence two-thirds of the passengers slept on deck, resulting at about nine in the evening in a veritable transformation scene. In India we had escaped insects and reptiles; we were very fortunate also in Burma, with only a few singing lizards in Ceylon; but on this steamer the cockroaches which appeared at night were marvellous in size and blackness. Once I imagined there was one on my pillow, and turning on the electric light, found I was mistaken, but there were a dozen or more on the washstand and walls--very animated specimens, to judge by the way they fled.

From the Strait of Malacca we passed into the China Sea, thence to the Gulf of Siam, and lastly to the broad Menam River, with banks showing masses of foliage, and with tiny Siamese villages or isolated houses built close to the water's edge, supported on piles, with thatched roofs and sides.

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BANGKOK, March 4th: Arriving at Bangkok, we took the steamer launch for the Oriental Hotel, which is situated on the river-bank. The canals leading out of the river reminded us of Batavia. A drive in the afternoon of our arrival, accompanied by the Rev. Mr.----, a medical missionary, as a non-professional guide, was a new experience and an agreeable one, for during the afternoon and evening we learned many things about the King that a native guide would not have told us. The report showed the King to be progressive in his tendencies; as the result of several trips to Europe, he has introduced railways, telegraph and modern business appliances, and is making a great effort to beautify the city and to improve sanitary conditions, having employed French engineers for that purpose.

I think it might be well to give a slight historical background in order the better to understand the conditions of Siam. It is thought that the aborigines of Siam were driven out by Laos tribes from the North and that they then adopted the name Thai as a sign of victory, Siam signifying progress.

In 1350, Ayuthia, a few miles north of Bangkok, became the capital; for three centuries Siam was prosperous and opened trade relations with China. There were, however, many raids and much fighting until 1536, when the King was taken prisoner.

The Portuguese commenced trading with Siam early in the sixteenth century, and soon after gave the Siamese military aid against their border foes, the troops coming from Goa. As a reward for their services they were offered land on which to settle. Later, the soldiers married Siamese women and became domesticated. As they had brought their Catholic priests with them, conversion of the natives followed, and some of the old settlements retain their Christian character to this day.

A few years after the Portuguese advent, the Dutch came, but the English did not arrive until 1620, and during the latter part of the seventeenth century the three nations were seeking trade relations. Great toleration and friendliness to other countries seemed to have been practiced even in that early day; French missionaries were also welcomed. Soon after, a Siamese embassy left with presents for King Louis of France, but they were shipwrecked on the way. Later, another embassy went to Versailles, and Louis XIV, much flattered, sent a return embassy, which was accorded a great reception in Lopburi, where a treaty was signed in 1605, sanctioning the presence of French missionaries. There were several subsequent upheavals at Ayuthia, and in 1767 the city fell under the strong Burman attack; thus ended the third dynasty of Siamese kings. The Burmans, however, were soon conquered, and the capital was moved to Bangkok. In the middle of the nineteenth century, treaties were made with Great Britain and the other important powers, while Cambodia was ceded to France.

The present monarch, Chulalongkorn, ascended the throne in 1868, and has since governed the country consistently and well. In May, 1874, a political constitution was adopted. The King began his reign by decreeing that slavery be abolished, and he instituted several other reforms. For many years troublous times with France ensued; this finally aroused the indignation of England, and in 1896 an Anglo-French agreement was signed in London, by which both countries guaranteed to maintain the integrity of the Menam valley.

Siam has during the past few years made rapid progress in the adoption of Western ways and Western ideals, thanks to the progressive King, and this is attracting visitors from Europe and America more and more. The country's position has kept it rather isolated; it is out of the beaten track, and is situated between the great commercial ports of Singapore and Hong-Kong. Until recently it could not be reached by any passenger steamship lines. One's impression of the kingdom must be formed largely from Bangkok, as the mountain districts offer no facilities for the comfort of visitors, being a decided contrast to Ceylon, Burma, and Java in this respect.

The area of Siam is about two hundred thousand square miles, and the population is over six million,--mostly native, for there are not over twenty thousand representatives of other powers in the kingdom, nor are there more than two thousand Europeans.