Max Havelaar

by Multatuli

  Mere days after assuming office, you saw fit, without any advance consultation [sic] with the Resident, to make the head of the Native Administration in Lebak the target of damaging investigations.

  These investigations led you—without even supporting your accusations against the chief in question with facts, let alone proofs—to propose subjecting a distinguished native official such as the Regent of Lebak—still a zealous servant of our country at the age of sixty, a close relation by marriage of leading families of regents in neighboring regencies, and the subject of glowing reports throughout his career—to what amounts to a complete character assassination.

  Furthermore, when the Resident expressed his disinclination to accede entirely to your proposals, you refused to comply with his reasonable wish for full disclosure of the information at your disposal regarding the actions of the Native Administration in Lebak.

  Such conduct merits the severest censure and raises suspicions of your unsuitability for office in the Colonial Administration.

  I have no choice but to relieve you of your duties as Assistant Resident of Lebak.

  Considering, however, certain favorable reports about you that I received in the past, I do not regard the foregoing as sufficient to prevent your appointment to another office in the Colonial Administration. I have therefore appointed you to the position of Assistant Resident in Ngawi.

  Your future conduct in that office will determine whether it is possible for you to go on serving in the Colonial Administration.

  Below this was written the name of the man whose “diligence, competence, and good faith” the King had called unassailable when appointing him Governor-General of the Dutch East Indies.144

  “We will soon leave this place, Tina, my dear,” Havelaar said stoically, and he handed the Governor-General’s letter to Verbrugge, who read it with Duclari.

  Verbrugge had tears in his eyes but said nothing. Duclari, a highly civilized man, let out a terrible curse: “G*******! I’ve seen this regency governed by scoundrels and thieves, who left with their reputations intact, and to think they’ve sent you such a letter!”

  “It means nothing,” Havelaar said. “The Governor-General is an honest man; he must have been deceived . . . although he could have avoided that by interviewing me first. He’s caught in the web of Buitenzorg bureaucracy, and we know what that means! But I’ll go and see him, and tell him how things really stand here. He’ll do the right thing; I’m sure of it!”

  “But if you go to Ngawi—”

  “Yes, I know! The Ngawi Regent is related to the Yogyakarta court. I’m familiar with Ngawi, because I spent two years in Bagelen, which is near there.145 In Ngawi I’d have to go on doing exactly what I’ve been doing here; the journey there would be pointless. Besides, I can’t possibly serve on probation, as if I had misbehaved! But most importantly, it’s clear to me now that I can’t put a stop to all these dirty dealings as long as I remain a civil servant, as it means there are too many people between me and the government with an interest in denying the misery of the common folk. And that’s not the only thing stopping me from going to Ngawi. That office wasn’t vacant; it was opened up for me, look!”

  And he showed them, in the newspaper from Java delivered along with the letter, that the same government order appointing him to Ngawi also relocated that regency’s Assistant Resident to a vacancy elsewhere.

  “Do you realize why I’ve been ordered to Ngawi, and not to that vacant regency? I’ll tell you why! Ngawi is in Madiun, and the Resident there is the brother-in-law of the previous Resident of Banten. Remember when I said the Adipati had seen such bad examples in the past?”

  “Ah!” Verbrugge and Duclari exclaimed in unison, realizing that Havelaar had been reassigned to Ngawi in order to prove that he could change his ways!

  “And there’s yet another reason I can’t go there,” he said. “The Governor-General will soon resign. I have met his successor, and know that nothing can be expected from him.146 To make a difference for those poor people before it’s too late, I must speak to the present Governor-General while he’s still in office, and if I go to Ngawi now, that’ll be impossible. Listen, Tina!”

  “My dearest Max?”

  “You’re brave, aren’t you?”

  “Max, you know I can be brave . . . as long as I’m with you!”

  “Well, then!”

  He rose to his feet and wrote the following request, which seems to me a model of eloquence.

  Rangkasbitung, March 29, 1856

  To the Governor-General of the Dutch East Indies:

  I have had the honor of receiving Your Excellency’s missive of the 23rd inst., No 54. That document compels me to request that Your Excellency grant me an honorable discharge from my country’s service.147

  MAX HAVELAAR

  It took less time in Buitenzorg to grant Havelaar’s request for a discharge than it had to find a way of evading his accusations. The latter had taken a whole month, while the discharge was received in Lebak after just a few days.

  “Thank goodness,” Tina cried. “Now you can finally be yourself!”

  Havelaar was not ordered to turn over the interim administration of his regency to Verbrugge and therefore assumed he was to await his successor’s arrival. That took quite a while, because the new Assistant Resident had to travel from a remote corner of Java. After waiting for almost three weeks, the former Assistant Resident of Lebak, who despite his discharge was still acting in that capacity, sent the following letter to Controleur Verbrugge.

  No 153

  Rangkasbitung, April 15, 1856

  To the Controleur of Lebak:148

  As you are aware, I have been honorably discharged from the civil service at my own request, by order of the government of the 4th inst., No 4.

  Perhaps I would have been within my rights to cease my work as Assistant Resident as soon as I received that decision, since it seems anomalous to hold a public office while no longer a public official.

  I was not instructed to relinquish my office, however, and so—partly in recognition of my duty not to abandon my post until suitably replaced, and partly for less important reasons—I awaited the arrival of my successor, believing that he would arrive shortly, or in any case, this month.

  You have now informed me that my replacement cannot be expected as soon as that—I believe you heard the news in Serang. You also told me the Resident was surprised that, despite my unusual position, I had not yet asked his leave to turn over the administration of this regency to you.

  No news could have been more welcome to me. I need not remind you that I—who have attested that I cannot serve my country in any other way than I did here—was punished for my service with a reprimand, along with a ruinous and dishonorable new appointment . . . and orders to betray the poor people who placed their confidence in my loyalty—and so had to choose between dishonor and destitution! And you know that, after all this, each new case required me to ponder, once again, the demands of duty, and even the simplest matter weighed heavily on me, trapped as I was between my conscience and the principles of the government to which I owe my loyalty until I have been relieved of my office.

  This difficulty was especially great when I had to respond to grievances.

  After all, I once promised not to surrender anyone to the rancor of his chiefs! Once—recklessly, it seems!—I gave my word that the government would see justice done!

  The poor natives were not to know that my promise and my word had been repudiated, and that I was poor and stripped of my powers, alone in my longing for justice and human dignity to prevail.

  And so they went on bringing their grievances to me!

  It was agonizing, after receiving the Governor-General’s letter of March 23, to sit before them as their supposed guardian, their powerless protector.

  It was heartbreaking to hear their complaints of mistreatment, extortion, poverty, hunger . . . even as I and my wife and child face the prospect of hunger and poverty our
selves.

  Nor could I betray the government. I could hardly say to those poor people, “Go and suffer, because the administration wants you to be oppressed!” I couldn’t acknowledge my impotence, for that would have been tantamount to acknowledging the scandalous, unscrupulous behavior of the Governor-General’s advisers.

  This is what I told them: “I can’t help you right now! But I will go to Batavia and speak to the Great Man about your troubles. He is a just man, and he will come to your aid. For now, simply return to your home . . . do not resist . . . do not flee . . . wait patiently. I believe—I . . . hope that justice will be done!”

  In this way, ashamed as I was about breaking my promise to help, I thought I could bring my beliefs into conformity with my duty to the government, which is still paying my salary for this month, and I would have gone on in this way until my successor’s arrival, if not for an unusual event that took place today, which has obliged me to break off this ambiguous relationship.

  Seven people came and presented their complaints. I gave them the above response. They returned to their village. On the way back, they ran into their local chief. He must have forbidden them to leave their kampung again, and—according to my sources—he took away their clothes so that they couldn’t leave their homes. One of them escaped, came to me again, and told me that he dared not return to his village.

  What I am to say to that man, I do not know!

  I cannot protect him; I must not confess my inability to take action; I do not wish to prosecute the Village Chief, because that would look as if I drummed up this case in support of my cause. I am at a complete loss what to do . . .

  I charge you, subject to the approval of the Resident of Banten, with the administration of the Lebak regency from tomorrow morning onward.

  The Assistant Resident of Lebak,

  MAX HAVELAAR

  Then Havelaar and his wife and child left Rangkasbitung. He refused all offers of an escort. For Duclari and Verbrugge, it was an emotional farewell. Havelaar, too, was touched, especially when he found a large crowd awaiting him at the first staging post. They had stolen away from Rangkasbitung to say goodbye.

  In Serang, the family alighted at the home of Resident Slymering, who showed them the customary hospitality of the Indies.149

  That evening the Resident had many visitors. They said, in the most impassioned terms, that they had come to bid farewell to Havelaar, who was offered one hearty handshake after another.

  But he had to go on to Batavia to see the Governor-General . . .

  When he arrived there, he asked for an audience. The request was denied, because His Excellency had a sore on his foot.

  Havelaar waited until the sore had healed. Then he made a new request for an audience.

  His Excellency had “such a heap of business” that he had been “forced to turn away even the Director-General of Finance,” and therefore couldn’t receive Havelaar either.

  Havelaar gave His Excellency time to burrow his way out of the heap. He felt a pang of envy at the thought of the people assisting His Excellency in these labors, because he liked to keep busy and worked fast: such “heaps” usually melted away at his touch. But of course, that was out of the question. Havelaar’s labors were harder than labor: he had to wait!

  He waited. Eventually, he sent a new request for an audience. He was told that His Excellency couldn’t receive him, because “the whole business of his imminent departure” prevented him from doing so.

  Max recommended himself to His Excellency’s favor for an audience of half an hour, as soon as a slight gap could be found between two “heaps of business.”

  Finally, he heard that His Excellency would be leaving the next day! He was thunderstruck. He still clung obstinately to the belief that was dealing with an honest man who had been deceived.150 One quarter of an hour would have been enough to prove the justice of his cause, and it seemed this quarter of an hour would be denied him.

  Among Havelaar’s papers, I have found his draft of a letter he sent on the eve of the Governor-General’s departure for the mother country. A penciled note in the margins reads “not accurate,” which leads me to assume that some alterations were made in the final version. I mention this to prevent the absence of literal correspondence in this case from casting doubt on the authenticity of the other, official documents reproduced here, all of which were signed by an unknown hand as being identical transcripts. Perhaps the recipient of this letter would like to make the fully accurate version public.151 A comparison would then show where Havelaar had departed from his draft. Here, then, is his substantially correct version:

  Batavia, May 23, 1856

  Your Excellency! My official request, made by missive of February 28, to be interviewed regarding the Lebak cases, has gone unanswered.

  Likewise, Your Excellency has not deigned to grant my repeated requests for an audience.

  In other words, Your Excellency, an official “of whom the government had received favorable reports”—those are Your Excellency’s own words!—a man who had served his country in this part of the world for seventeen years, and who not only did no wrong, but strove to do good, displaying unequaled self-sacrifice and placing honor and duty above all else—has been treated as worse than a criminal. For a criminal at least receives a hearing.

  Your Excellency has been misled about me; I can understand that. But that Your Excellency did not seize the opportunity to be disabused—this I cannot understand.

  Your Excellency will leave this city tomorrow, and I cannot allow that to happen without telling you one last time that I have done my DUTY, AND NOTHING BUT MY DUTY, with discretion, composure, gentleness, and courage.

  The grounds for the disapproval expressed in Your Excellency’s missive of March 23 are utter fabrications and lies.

  I can prove this, and would already have done so, if Your Excellency had seen fit to grant me a mere half hour—if Your Excellency had found just half an hour to do justice!

  But you did not! And now a respectable family has been reduced to beggary . . .

  This is not, however, the subject of my grievance.

  Your Excellency has sanctioned THE SYSTEM OF ABUSE OF AUTHORITY, OF ROBBERY AND MURDER, THAT WEIGHS SO HEAVILY ON THE POOR JAVANESE, and that is my grievance.

  That is what cries to heaven for justice!

  Blood clings to the coins you have saved from the salary you have earned thus, Your Excellency!152

  Once more, I ask you to spare a moment to hear my case—late tonight, perhaps, or early tomorrow morning! And again, I make this request not for myself, but for my cause, the cause of justice and human dignity, which is also the cause of politics rightly understood.

  If Your Excellency can reconcile it with your conscience to leave this place without hearing me out, my own conscience will be clear, in the certainty that I have done everything in my power to avert the sad, bloody events that will shortly ensue if the government persists in ignoring what goes on in the lives of the common people.153

  MAX HAVELAAR

  That evening, Havelaar waited. He waited all night.

  He had hoped that indignation at the tone of his letter might bring about what he had tried and failed to accomplish through patience and persuasion. His hope was vain! The Governor-General left without having spoken with Havelaar. Yet another Excellency had gone to rest in the mother country!

  •

  Havelaar wandered the world, poor and friendless. He searched—

  Enough, my good Stern! I, Multatuli, will now take up the pen. It is not your mission to write Havelaar’s biography. I called you to life . . . I had you come from Hamburg . . . I taught you to write serviceable Dutch after very little practice . . . I let you kiss Louise Rosemeyer, who’s in sugar . . . Enough, now, Stern, you may go!

  •

  That Shawlman fellow and his wife—

  Silence, wretched product of filthy avarice and profane hypocrisy! I created you . . . you grew into a monster under my pen
. . . I’m disgusted by my own handiwork: choke on your coffee and be-gone!

  •

  Yes, I, Multatuli, “who have suffered much,” now take up the pen. I do not ask forgiveness for the form of my book. It seemed to me well suited to my aim.

  My aim is twofold:

  Firstly, I wanted to bring forth something little Max and his baby sister can keep as a pusaka, a sacred heirloom, when their parents have died of penury.

  I wanted to give those children a patent of nobility, penned by my own hand.

  Secondly, I want to be read.

  Yes, I want to be read! I want to be read by statesmen who must heed the signs of the times . . . by men of letters who feel they should at least glance at the book people are saying such awful things about . . . by merchants who have an interest in the coffee auctions . . . by ladies’ maids who’ll pay a few cents to borrow a copy . . . by governors-general in retirement . . . by ministers with heaps of business154. . . by the lackeys of those Excellencies . . . by pastors, who by ancient custom will accuse me of attacking Almighty God, when all I’m doing is standing up against the idol they’ve made in their own image . . . by thousands and tens of thousands of the self-serving Drystubble tribe, who’ll clamor the loudest about my “charming” writings as they continue with business as usual155. . . by the members of Parliament, who should know what goes on in the great overseas Realm that belongs to the Realm of the Netherlands . . .

  Yes, I will be read!

  And if I achieve this aim, I will be content. My aim, you see, was not to write well . . . but to write so that I would be heard. And just as a man who cries, “Stop, thief!” gives little thought to the style of his spontaneous cry, I too couldn’t care less how I’m to be judged for the way I have shouted my “Stop, thief!”

  “The book is multifarious . . . disjointed . . . straining for effect . . . the style is poor . . . the author inexperienced . . . no talent . . . no method . . .”

  Fine, fine, all of it, fine! But . . . THE JAVANESE ARE MISTREATED! The MAIN POINT of what I have written is irrefutable!156