CHAPTER TWENTY
Reports arrived from Ternate and Halmaheira that a terrible submarineearthquake had visited the surrounding group of islands, that wholevillages had been washed away, that thousands of inhabitants hadbeen rendered homeless. The telegrams caused greater consternationin Holland than in India, where people seemed more used to theconvulsions of the sea, to the volcanic upheavals of the earth. Theyhad been discussing the Dreyfus case for months, they were beginning todiscuss the Transvaal, but Ternate was hardly mentioned. Neverthelessa central committee was formed at Batavia; and Van Oudijck called ameeting. It was resolved to hold a charity-bazaar, at the earliestpossible date, in the club and the garden attached to it. Mrs. vanOudijck, as usual, delegated everything to Eva Eldersma and did nottrouble herself at all.
For a fortnight Labuwangi was filled with excitement. In this silentlittle town, full of eastern slumber, a whirlwind of tiny passions,jealousies and enmities began to rise. Eva had her club of faithfuladherents, the Van Helderens, the Doorn de Bruijns, the Rantzows, withwhich all sorts of tiny sets strove to compete. One was not on speakingterms with the other; this one would not take part because that onedid; another insisted on taking part only because Mrs. Eldersmamust not think that she was everybody; and this one and that oneand the other considered that Eva was much too pretentious and neednot fancy that she was the most important woman in the place becauseMrs. van Oudijck left everything to her. Eva however had spoken tothe resident and declared that she was willing to organize everythingprovided she received unlimited authority. She had not the slightestobjection to his appointing some one else to set the ball rolling; but,if he appointed her, unlimited authority was an express condition, forto take twenty different tastes and opinions into account would meanthat one would never get anywhere. Van Oudijck laughingly consented,but impressed upon her that she must not make people angry and thatshe must respect every one's feelings and be as conciliatory aspossible, so that the charity-bazaar might leave pleasant memoriesbehind it. Eva promised: she was not naturally quarrelsome.
To get a thing done, to set a thing going, to put a thing through,to employ her artistic energies was her great delight: it was lifeto her, was the only consolation in her dreary life in India. For,though she had grown to love and admire many things in Java, thesocial life of the country, save for her little clique, lacked allcharm for her. But now to prepare an entertainment on a large scale,the fame of which would reach as far as Surabaya, flattered alikeher vanity and her love of work.
She sailed through every difficulty; and, because people saw that sheknew best and was more practical than they, they gave way to her. But,while she was busy evolving her stalls and her tableaux-vivants,while the bustle of the preparations occupied the leading familiesof Labuwangi, something seemed also to occupy the soul of thenative population, but something less cheerful than charitableentertainment. The chief of police, who brought Van Oudijck his shortreport every morning, usually in a few words--that he had gone hisrounds and that everything was quiet and orderly--had of late hadlonger conversations with the resident, seemed to have more importantthings to communicate; the messengers whispered more mysteriouslyoutside the office, the resident sent for Eldersma and Van Helderen;the secretary wrote to Ngadjiwa, to Vermalen the assistant-resident, tothe major-commandant of the garrison; and the district controller wentround the town with increased frequency and at unaccustomed hours. Amidall their fussing the ladies perceived little of these mysteriousdoings; and only Leonie, who took no part in the preparations, noticedin her husband an unusual silent concern. She was a quick and keenobserver; and, because Van Oudijck, who was accustomed often to mentionbusiness in the domestic circle, had been mute for the last few days,she asked suddenly where the Regent of Ngadjiwa was, now that he hadbeen dismissed by the government at Van Oudijck's instance, and who wasgoing to replace him. He made a vague reply; and she took alarm andbecame anxious. One morning, passing through her husband's bedroom,she was struck by the whispered conversation between Van Oudijck andthe chief of police and she stopped to listen, with her ear againstthe screen. The conversation was muffled because the garden-doorswere open; the messengers were sitting on the garden-steps; a coupleof gentlemen who wished to speak to the resident were walking up anddown the side-verandah, after writing their names on the slate whichthe chief messenger brought in to the resident. But they had to wait,because the resident was engaged with the chief of police....
Leonie listened from behind the screen. And she turned pale at thesound of a word or two which she overheard. She returned silently toher room, feeling anxious. At lunch she asked if it would be reallynecessary for her to attend the fancy-fair, for she had had such atoothache lately and wanted to go to Surabaya, to the dentist. Itwould probably mean a few days: she had not been to the dentist forever so long. But Van Oudijck, sterner than usual, in his sombre moodof secret concern and silence, told her that it was impossible, that onan evening like that of the fancy-fair she was bound to be present asthe resident's wife. She pouted and sulked and held her handkerchiefto her mouth, so that Van Oudijck became distressed. That afternoonshe did not sleep, did not read, did not dream, as a result of thisunusual agitation. She was frightened, she wanted to get away. Andat tea, in the garden, she began to cry, said that the toothache wasmaking her head ache, that it was making her quite ill, that it wasmore than she could bear. Van Oudijck, distressed and careworn, wastouched; he could never endure to see her tears. And he gave in, as healways did to her, where her personal affairs were in question. Nextday she went off to Surabaya, staying at the resident's and reallyhaving her teeth attended to.
It was always a good thing to do, once a year or so. This timeshe spent about five hundred guilders on the dentist. After this,incidentally, the other ladies also seemed to guess somethingof what was happening at Labuwangi behind a haze of mystery. ForIda van Helderen, the tragic white half-caste, her eyes startingout of her head with fright, told Eva Eldersma that her husbandand Eldersma and the resident too were fearing a rebellion of thepopulation, incited by the regent and his family, who would neverforgive the dismissal of the Regent of Ngadjiwa. The men, however,were non-committal and reassured their wives. But a dark swirlingtide continued to stir under the apparent calmness of their littleup-country life. And gradually the gossip leaked out and alarmed theEuropean inhabitants. Vague paragraphs in the newspapers, commentingon the dismissal of the regent, contributed to their alarm.
Meanwhile the bustle of preparation for the fancy-fair went on,but people no longer put their hearts into the work. They led afussy, restless life and were becoming ill and nervous. At nightthey bolted and barred their houses, placed arms by their bed-sides,woke suddenly in terror, listening to the noises of the night, whichsounded faintly in space outside. And they condemned the hastinessshown by Van Oudijck, who, after the scene at the race-ball, had beenunable to restrain his patience any longer and had not hesitated torecommend the dismissal of the regent, whose house was firmly rootedin the soil of Labuwangi, was one with Labuwangi.
The resident had ordered, as a festival for the population, an eveningmarket on the square outside the regent's palace, to last for a fewdays, coinciding with the bazaar. There would be a people's fair,numbers of little stalls and booths and a Malay theatre, with playsdrawn from the Arabian Nights. He had done this in order to givethe Javanese inhabitants a treat which they would value greatly,while the Europeans were enjoying themselves on their side. It wasnow a few days before the fancy-fair, on the previous day to which,as it chanced, the monthly council was to be held in the palace.
The anxiety, the fuss and a general nervousness filled the otherwisequiet little town with an emotion which made people almost ill. Motherssent their children away and themselves were undecided what to do. Butthe fancy-fair made people stay. How could they avoid going to thefancy-fair? There was so seldom any amusement. But ... if therereally were a rising! And they did not know what to do, whether totake the lowering menace, which they half-divined, s
eriously or makea light-hearted jest of it.
The day before the council, Van Oudijck asked for an interview with theraden-aju pangeran, who lived with her son. His carriage drove pastthe huts and booths in the square and through the triumphal archesof the market, formed of bamboo-stems bending towards each other,with a narrow strip of bunting rippling in the wind, so much so that,in Javanese, the decorations are known as "ripplings." This eveningwas to be the first evening of the fair. Every one was busy with thefinal preparations; and, in the bustle of hammering and arranging,the natives sometimes neglected to cower at the passing of theresident's carriage and paid no attention to the golden umbrella whichthe messenger on the box held in his hands like a furled sun. But,when the carriage turned by the flagstaff and up the drive leading tothe palace and they saw that the resident was going to the regent's,groups huddled together and spoke in eager whispers. They crowded atthe entrance to the drive and stared. But the natives saw nothing savethe empty market-place looming beyond the shadow of the banyans, withthe rows of chairs in readiness. The chief of police, suddenly passingon his bicycle, caused the groups to break up as though by instinct.
The old princess was awaiting the resident in the front-verandah. Herdignified features wore a serene expression and betrayed no trace ofwhat was raging within her. She motioned the resident to a chair;and the conversation opened with a few ordinary phrases. Then fourservants approached in a crouching posture: one with a bottle-stand;the second with a tray full of glasses; the third with a silverice-pail full of broken ice; the fourth salaamed, without carryinganything. The princess asked the resident what he would drink; and hereplied that he would like a whisky-and-soda. The fourth servant camecrouching through the other three to prepare the drink, poured in themeasure of whisky, opened the bottle of soda-water with a report as ofa gun and dropped into the tumbler a lump of ice the size of a smallglacier. Not another word was said. The resident waited for the drinkto grow cold; and the four servants crouched away. Then at last VanOudijck spoke and asked if he might speak to her in entire confidence,if he could say what he had in his mind. She begged him, civilly,to do so. And in his firm but hushed voice he told her, in Malay, invery courteous sentences, full of friendliness and flowery politeness,how great and exalted his love had been for the pangeran and stillwas for that prince's glorious house, although he, Van Oudijck, tohis intense regret, had been obliged to act counter to that love,because his duty commanded him so to act. And he asked her--presumingthat it was possible for her, as a mother--to bear him no grudge forthis exercise of his duty; he asked her, on the contrary, to show amotherly feeling for him, the European official, who had loved thepangeran as a father, and to cooperate with him, the official--she,the mother of the regent--by employing her great influence for thehappiness and welfare of the population. Sunario had a tendency,in his piety and his remote gaze at things invisible, to forget theactual realities that lay before his eyes. Well, he, the resident,was asking her, the powerful, influential mother, to cooperate withhim in ways which Sunario overlooked, to cooperate with him in loveand unity. And, in his elegant Malay, he opened his heart to herentirely, describing the turmoil which for days and days had beenseething among the inhabitants, like an evil poison which could notdo other than make them wicked and drunk and would probably lead tothings, to acts, which were bound to have lamentable results. He madeher feel his unspoken view that the government would be the stronger,that a terrible punishment would overtake all who should prove guilty,high and low alike. But his language remained exceedingly cautiousand his speech respectful, as of a son addressing a mother. She,though she understood him, valued the tactful grace of his manner;and the flowery depth and earnestness of his language made himrise in her esteem and almost surprised her ... in a low Hollander,without birth or breeding. But he continued. He did not tell her whathe knew, that she was the instigatress of this obscure unrest; but heexcused that unrest, said that he understood it, that the populationshared her grief in respect of her unworthy son, himself a scion ofthe noble race, and that it was only natural that the people shouldsympathize deeply with their old soveran, even though the sympathywas ignorant and illogical. For the son was unworthy, the Regent ofNgadjiwa had proved himself unworthy and what had happened could nothave happened otherwise.
His voice, for a moment, became severe; and she bowed her grey head,remained silent, seemed to agree. But his words now became gentleragain; and once more he asked for her cooperation, asked her to useher influence for the best. He trusted her entirely. He knew thatshe held high the traditions of her family, loyalty to the Company,unimpeachable loyalty to the government. Well, he asked her to directher power and influence, to use the love and reverence which thepeople bore her in such a way that she, in concert with him, wouldallay what was seething in the darkness; that she would move thethoughtless to reflection; that she would assuage and pacify what wassecretly threatening, thoughtlessly and frivolously, against the firmand dignified authority of the government. And, while he flattered andthreatened her in one breath, he felt that she--although she hardlyspoke a single word and merely punctuated his words with her repeatedsaja--he felt that she was falling under his stronger influence, theinfluence of the man of tact and authority, and that he was givingher food for reflection. He felt that, as she reflected, her hatredwas subsiding, her vindictiveness losing its force and that he wasbreaking the energy and pride of the ancient blood of the Maduransultans. Under all the flowers of his speech, he allowed her to catcha glimpse of utter ruin, of terrible penalties, of the undeniablygreater power of the government. And he bent her to the old pliantattitude of yielding before the might of the ruler. He reminded her,in her impulse to rebel and throw off the hated yoke, that it wasbetter to be calm and reasonable and to adapt herself placidly tothings as they were. She nodded her head softly in assent; and he feltthat he had conquered her. And this aroused a certain pride within him.
And now she also spoke and gave the required promise, saying, in herbroken, inwardly weeping voice, that she loved him as a son, that shewould do what he wished and would assuredly use her influence, outsidethe palace, in the town, to still these threatening troubles. Shedenied her own complicity and said that the unrest arose from theunreflecting love of the people, who suffered with her, becauseof her son. She now echoed his own words, save that she did notspeak of unworthiness. For she was a mother. And she repeated onceagain that he could trust her, that she would act according to hiswish. Then he informed her that he would come to the council nextday, with his subordinates and with the native head-men; and he saidthat he trusted her so completely that all of them, the Europeans,would be unarmed. He looked her in the eyes. He threatened her moreby saying this than if he had spoken of arms. For he was threateningher--without a threatening word, merely by the intonation of his Malayspeech--with the punishment, with the vengeance of the government,if a hair was injured of the least of its officials.
He had risen from his seat. She also rose, wrung her hands, entreatedhim not to speak like that, entreated him to have the fullestconfidence in her and in her son. She sent for Sunario. The Regentof Labuwangi entered; and Van Oudijck again repeated that he hopedfor peace and reason. And he felt, by the tone of the old princessin speaking to her son, that she wished for peace and reason. He feltthat she, the mother, was omnipotent in the palace.
The regent bowed his head, agreed, promised, even said that he hadalready taken pacifying measures, that he had always regretted thisexcitement of the populace, that it grieved him greatly, now thatthe resident had noticed it, in spite of his, Sunario's, attempts atpacification. The resident did not go further into this insincerity. Heknew that the discontent was fanned from the Kabupaten, but he knewalso that he had won. Once more, however, he impressed upon theregent his responsibility, if anything happened in the market-place,next day, during the council. The regent entreated him not to thinkof such a thing. And now, to part on friendly terms, he begged VanOudijck to sit down again. Van Oudijck resumed his seat. In so
doing,he knocked as though by accident against the tumbler, all frostedwith the chill of the ice, which he had not yet put to his lips. Itfell clattering to the ground. He apologized for his clumsiness. Theraden-aju pangeran had remarked his movement and her old face turnedpale. She said nothing, but beckoned to an attendant. And the fourservants appeared again, crouching along the floor, and mixed a secondwhisky-and-soda. Van Oudijck at once lifted the glass to his lips.
There was a painful silence. To what degree the resident's movement inupsetting the glass was justified would always remain a problem. Hewould never know. But he wished to show the princess that, whencoming here, he was prepared for anything, before their conversation,and that, after this conversation, he meant to trust her utterly andcompletely, not only in respect of the drink which she offered him,but next day, at the council, where he and his officials would appearunarmed, and in respect of her influence for good, which would bringpeace and tranquillity to the people. And, as though to show him thatshe understood him and that his confidence would be wholly justified,she rose and whispered a few words to an attendant whom she hadbeckoned to her. The Javanese disappeared and soon returned, crouchingall the way through the front-verandah and carrying a long object in ayellow case. The princess took it from him and handed it to Sunario,who took a walking-stick from the yellow silk case and offered it tothe resident as a token of their fraternal friendship. Van Oudijckaccepted it, understanding the symbol. For the yellow silk case wasof the colour and the material of authority, yellow or gold and silk;the stick was of a wood that serves as a protection against snake-bitesand ill-luck; and the heavy knob was wrought of the metal of authority,gold, in the form of the ancient sultan's crown. This stick, offeredat such a moment, signified that the Adiningrats submitted anew andthat Van Oudijck could trust them.
And, when he took his leave, he felt very proud and esteemed himselfhighly. For by exercising tact, diplomacy and knowledge of the Javanesehe had won; he would have allayed the rebellion merely by words. Thatwould be a fact.
That was so, that would be so: a fact. On that first evening of thepublic fair, lighted gaily with a hundred paraffin-lamps, scentedalluringly with the trailing odours of cooking food, full of the motleywhirl of the holiday-making populace, that first evening was whollygiven up to rejoicing; and the people discussed with one another thelong and friendly visit which the resident had paid to the regent andhis mother; for they had seen the carriage with the umbrella waitinga long time in the drive and the regent's attendants had told of thepresent of the walking-stick.
That was so: the fact existed and had happened as Van Oudijck hadplanned it in advance and compelled it to happen. And that he shouldbe proud of this was human. But what he had not compelled or plannedin advance was the hidden forces, which he never divined, whoseexistence he would deny, always, in his simple, natural life. Whathe did not see and hear and feel was the very hidden force, whichhad indeed subsided, but was yet smouldering, like a volcanic fire,under the apparently peaceful meadows of flowers and amity and peace;the hatred which would possess a power of impenetrable mystery,against which he, the European, was unarmed.
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