by Multatuli
Betel leaf grows on a vine not much thicker than our pea plants, which so strongly resembles a black pepper plant that only a practiced eye can tell the two species apart. I believe the two belong to the same botanical family, though it’s possible that learned scholars, who enjoy making startling pronouncements—a lion is a cat, and whales are not fish!—will find a reason in that similarity to declare betel and pepper very distant from each other.
I’m surprised that betel is so rarely used in dentistry. It seems to me that such use would be encouraged by the leaf’s cleansing and contractive properties, together with its not unpleasant flavor. I believe gambier deserves a place in the European pharmacy, but I don’t know if the same can be said of the pinang (areca nut). In outer appearance, this nut is not unlike nutmeg, but the tree on which it grows is a type of palm.
The word selamat means “greetings” and in this case refers to the very peculiar compliment—the folding of hands—described in the book.
24 This was a kidang, a medium-sized deer. A much smaller species, no larger than the average dog, is the kancil or mouse deer, known for its exceptional swiftness and grace. It is said that kancils cannot be kept alive in captivity. In contrast, the kidang, like most European deer, is apparently easy to keep in a fenced park.
25 The liquid known as “coconut milk” in Holland is cool and refreshing but rarely drunk. Coconuts are sometimes used in cooking, usually shredded, but they are most often crushed for their oil. Seldom eaten as fruit, they are never the main ingredient of a cooked dish. The stories about coconuts in children’s books and expert disquisitions sound foolish to those who have lived in the Indies. I don’t know whether the coconut plays a different role in the West Indies than in Insulindia. This difference certainly applies to the banana (pisang in Insulindia): on Surinamese plantations, it is given to the Negroes as food. The variety found there is very crude and a couple of feet long. The medium-sized variety in the East Indies grows no longer than six inches, and one of the smallest—the pisang mas or gold pisang, an excellent little fruit—is no larger than a child’s pinkie, and very tasty.
26 Ginger tea: An infusion from the ginger root, to be drunk as hot as possible—for its cooling properties. The conventional wisdom in the Indies is that cold drinks, like fruits that refresh the mouth, heat the body. On the same principle, the Spanish pepper varieties cabai and lombok (cayenne in the West Indies) are said to have a cooling effect. As far as I have been able to tell in practice, these beliefs are not groundless, but in such matters, the imagination often plays a role.
27 The native’s question for First Lieutenant Duclari: Mr. Collard—who has been a field officer for many years and may be retired by now—will, if asked, undoubtedly be good enough to acknowledge that I am telling the truth here, as elsewhere.
28 This refers to a tudung, a woven hat in the form of a large round dish, worn by the Javanese to keep off the sun and rain, of which the natives are absurdly frightened. Certain garden hats recently in fashion among European women looked exactly like tudungs.
29 Babu: Native nanny.
30 Gilded payung: The color of the parasol—according to custom but in keeping with officially established rules—denotes the rank of the chief for whom it is carried. A gilded payung designates the highest rank.
31 The census figures were inaccurate: Every chief has an interest in making his subjects seem as small in number as possible, not to ease the burden of compulsory provision of goods and services, but so that he can claim more goods and services for himself. For a closer approach to the truth, do not hesitate to add 10 percent to the official figures.
32 Emigration to Cikande and Bolang: Many workers on the private plantations around Batavia and Buitenzorg are refugees from Lebak. “If the oppression in Lebak stops,” I once heard an estate owner say, “we’ll have a shortage of people.”
33 Pisang: Banana. I don’t understand why the latter, West Indian term is better known in the East Indian Netherlands than the word pisang. It’s also a mystery to me where the English word “plantain” comes from. The estimated number of pisang varieties is three hundred. See also note 25.
34 Hollander: Every white person is known to the natives as orang hollanda, wolanda, belanda, which are all references to Holland. In the main cities and towns they occasionally depart from this rule, speaking of orang inggris or orang prancis, i.e., an English or French person. A German is sometimes called an orang hollanda gunung, meaning a mountain Hollander or Hollander from the interior.
35 Interpretation of the term “civilization”: Europeans are wrong to believe that the higher degree of civilization in which they take such pride is universally accepted as an axiom, and that they really are more civilized in every respect. I could give many examples that call these boasts of ours into question, and a few that show them to be lies. The term generally used by liplaps and natives to describe Europeans is immature. I encourage friends of the truth to investigate how much bookishness and convention lies concealed in our understanding of the word “civilization.” In this respect, we very closely resemble certain natives who cannot understand how a civilized person could abide having white teeth. “Ugh,” they say, “just like a dog!” Elsewhere, it is considered uncivilized not to have an ebony disc in your split lower lip or earlobes, or a ring in the septum of your nose. There are places in Insulindia where civilization manifests itself as—how shall I put it? Well, out with it, ethnology must not be constrained by prudery!—men wearing an ebony pin through the end of the penis, which is pierced for that purpose when they’re very young. Those maniacs regard the coital act, without such an ornament, as . . . bestial. “Just like a dog,” again, I suppose. However ridiculous this may be, an unbiased observer must acknowledge that we Europeans use the words “animal” and “bestial” in equally inappropriate ways.
36 The liplap’s point of view on social issues: The question is whether the Netherlands can permit itself—in the “political” sense—to do the philosophical, unbigoted thing. Officially guaranteeing equal rights for liplaps might create a group that could pose a threat to Dutch authority. That explains the constant fumbling with provisions that, however they are dressed up, serve no other purpose than to ensure the dominance of the authentic European element. I am referring to the abolition of the colonial navy—a measure not unwelcome to pirates. To the endless fuss about a so-called radical. To the educational institutions in the Netherlands and the resulting compulsion, felt all too keenly by parents in the East Indies, to send their children to Europe. And finally, to the absenteeism artificially sustained by all these measures, which is so devastating to Insulindia! This is precisely the toll of our colonial regime, which rests on immoral foundations: we cannot act in a “philosophical and unbigoted” way without putting our own interests at risk.
This is the curse of every evil deed;
That, propagating still, it brings forth evil.
[trans. Samuel Taylor Coleridge]
37 Patih, kliwon, and jaksa: Native chiefs. The patih assists the regent as a secretary, messenger, and odd jobber. The kliwon is an intermediary between the government and the village chiefs. He generally oversees local public works, guard duty, forced labor, etc. The jaksa is a police officer and public prosecutor.
38 Gongs and gamelan: The gong is a heavy metal cymbal suspended from a cord. The gamelan is played in the same way as European glass harmonicas or the well-known xylophone. In this scene, I could also have mentioned the anklung, a gridlike instrument with cymbals lying on taut cords. Note that all these instruments have onomatopoetic names. “Gong” sounds forceful. “Anklung” and “gamelan” (or “gamlang”) are, in contrast, soft and gentle, but very melancholy.
39 Exasperation at obstructionism: Such exasperation was fatal to the Governor of the Moluccas, a most accomplished man whose efforts to restore his country’s authority over the islands were undermined by the pencil pushers at the secretariat in Buitenzorg. Before the eyes of the incompetent Van T
wist, who was of course completely under the thumb of that bureaucracy, he killed himself by jumping into a waterfall in Tondano (in the Minahasa or Manado region).
40 Havelaar’s official career: As early as August 1851, my name had been submitted to the government for an appointment as Resident. Furthermore, my duties in Ambon were entrusted to a Resident shortly after I left.
41 I can assure the reader that it is now (in 1881) more disagreeable to me than ever to enter the public sphere. When, at the age of forty, I was forced to do so in spite of myself, my hopes of some success were my ally against the aversion I feel to any contact with the public. Now that I’ve seen the results of my efforts, my repugnance is stronger than ever.
42 Innkeeper’s bill: The arrangement was that the United States government could be billed eighty-three Dutch cents a day in compensation for support provided to the survivor of a shipwreck, whether an officer or a seaman. Most of the ostensible survivors of shipwrecks were little more than sea rovers. The Americans have a thousand whalers in the seas of the East Indies at any one time, and their crews are the dross of their nation.
43 My children’s great-grandfather: His name is on the pedestal atop the Lion’s Mound in Waterloo.
44 Appanage of the Princes of Thurn and Taxis: This was purchased by the German imperial government for tens of millions after the great changes of 1866.
45 Dream of millions: Well, it wasn’t exactly a dream. The time limit for the claim has expired, and I still have no wish to discuss the remarkable family narrative connected with it. Besides, certain things remain obscure to me, partly because some documents were stolen, as mentioned in this passage. Even so, I feel I must observe that certain individuals and branches of the family, who know more than the average reader about the subjects touched on in this passage, were among Havelaar’s most rabid persecutors. Their interests demanded that he be silenced, or at least prevented from unraveling certain mysteries.
46 A Mr. Q. in the Arnhem newspaper has quoted this sentence as evidence of my immorality! And that insidious maneuver was cheered on by Dr. Van Vloten, as was Mr. Q.’s claim that I spent my time “drinking gin and bitters, playing billiards, and smoking borrowed cigars.” I ask you, is the horror of which I spoke on p. 301 not justified? How do such people spend their time?
47 Mantri: Overseer. Demang: district chief; in central and eastern Java, this official is called a wedana.
The author of the French book Felix Batel, in which Havelaar is imitated and—undoubtedly through no intention of the author!—parodied, betrays his plagiarism by speaking of demangs in Java’s Eastern Salient, where he sets his tale. This is like writing of . . . the czars of Germany. In that book the sun rises, just as it was observed by Saijah. The buffalo episode is also repeated word for word, and the author is good enough to acknowledge that this incident was also described by a certain Multatuli. Well, Felix Batel was reviewed at length by Dutch critics, but nowhere do you find even a trace of protest against this shameless pilfering, which seems to me every bit as evil as piracy. If a foreigner claimed responsibility for the refined art of gutting herrings, the Dutch people would raise a hue and cry, but our “national pride” can endure the theft of Havelaar. If only such unfairness were limited to literature! Yet it also reaches bewildering heights in the social, political, and philosophical fields. The nation still cannot read. Or does it not wish to understand what it has been given to read?
48 Bandung: One of the Priangan regencies.
49 On the natural phenomenon of the flood (banjir), I refer you to my essay “Wys my de plaats waar gy gezaaid hebt” (“Show Me the Place Where You Have Sown”), which takes its name from this passage in Havelaar.
50 See note 32.
51 Rebels in the Lampung districts: There is a brochure about the expedition referred to here; I cannot give you the title. It probably dates from 1861 or ’62, and I believe it was written by the commander of our forces. The author denies that there were many refugees from Lebak among the rebels whom he fought. I maintain my position, however, and cite the statements of the officers under him in that campaign. I have heard one of them confirm my claim in the strongest terms. There was a time when gainsaying my assertions brought a certain social cachet in The Hague, and the officer in question said that was why his former commander had flatly told what he called a “damned vulgar lie.” If I’d had the joy of concluding that the Netherlands valued the truth, I’d have presented the evidence a long time ago. But it’s tiresome to plead your case before a court so very infatuated with lies.
52 The custom of serving sweets with tea is Chinese in origin.
53 District chief of Parangkujang: He was the Adipati’s son-in-law and accomplice. My predecessor was poisoned in his home.
54 The Jaksa’s costume: This native official was Javanese, not Sundanese, and therefore somewhat differently and more ostentatiously dressed than the chiefs born and bred in Lebak.
55 A governor-general’s titles include “Commander in Chief of His Majesty’s Navy to the East of the Cape of Good Hope.”
56 This address to the Chiefs of Lebak is generally admired, as I have heard from many people. So why have Havelaar’s actions, which precisely conform to these words, been regarded as unworthy of attention?
To determine the degree to which I may have deviated from the strictly literal truth when I approximated that unwritten speech in print, it may be worthwhile to compare its tone and contents to those of a piece I wrote a few years earlier. I am referring to “Publikatie aan de Inl. Hoofden der Minahassa” (“Publication to the Native Chiefs of Minahasa”) of April 1, 1851, which I believe to be animated by the same spirit. The weekly magazine Oost en West (“East and West”) and later the Spectator (July 26, 1879) picked up the piece from the East Indies newspapers that had considered it fit to print, perhaps as a corrective to the many people who act as if they have deprived Havelaar of its force by calling it a fiction. The publication in question is an official document and has nothing to do with novel writing. I invite you, reader, to peruse the aforementioned issue of the Spectator and ask yourself whether it is fair that, more than thirty years after I wrote the publication that it contains, any ragamuffin can still revile me with impunity? (On this subject, see also notes 81 and 93.)
57 Sinyo, often abbreviated to nyo: “Young master.” This word is widely believed to be of Portuguese origin, mainly because the descendants of the Portuguese, who still form a unique caste in Batavia, are colloquially referred to as sinyos. But this etymology is dubious.
58 Verbrugge knew! I have kept a letter he wrote to me when I was still in discussion with the Adipati, in which—emphatically requesting that I not mention his name—he suggested that I reprimand the Adipati for his “abuses.” This is not the place to go into the needlessness of that request. The letter shows:
1) that my objections were not the result of my own morbid point of view;
2) that my investigations had been conducted very discreetly, so much so that even the timid Verbrugge saw fit to urge me to put in a little more effort.
Interested parties—are there any?—may see that letter from the Controleur.
59 Jimats are notes or other objects that come falling from the sky so that fanatics and charlatans will have credentials. There’s nothing new under the sun! There are plenty of suppliers of these divine revelations, and all Asia is still rife with apostles and prophets of this stamp. The difference from past centuries is that they are now punished for vagrancy—by the same people who revere the vagabonds of yesteryear as saints. Now that’s what I call a shocking inconsistency!
60 Garam gelap: Contraband salt. In the Dutch East Indies, the making and selling of salt is a government monopoly. It is true that a great deal of salt was made on the southern coast of Lebak, and who can blame those poor people, considering that some of them would have had to walk many miles to reach the government warehouse, where the salt was expensive. A monopoly on salt production strikes me as unreasonable and,
above all, cruel to people who live on the coast and have sea salt washing right into their houses.
61 The letters from my predecessor referred to here are among the documents still in my possession. No one has ever asked to see them. It seems to me they could be very relevant, especially with regard to his death. In any other country, wouldn’t this case have become a cause célèbre?
62 Again, I still have the letters mentioned here; only copies, true, but they were certified by the clerk in Lebak as “identical in content to the original.” No one has ever bothered to ask about them.
63 Intention to forgive the advance paid to the Regent: This is in fact what happened after the investigation launched by Governor-General Pahud. I believe his salary was also increased on that occasion. You must admit this was a peculiar way of doing justice to me! It was apparently essential that the established truth of my charges benefit, not me, but the person I had accused.
64 Abraham Blankaart too Dutch for a German: And perhaps for the current generation of Dutch readers as well. How many of my readers are still familiar with that delightful character from Sara Burgerhart?
65 It seems to me this satire of orthodoxy justifies the comment that the moderns, the liberals, the . . . relatively enlightened—and even the true freethinkers—would do well to look to the example set by their opponents, who reveal a certain sincerity of faith in their actions. If some people contributed as generously to spreading light as others do to deepening the darkness, we would long ago have made a great step forward. Would the believers have left me homeless and penniless, as I was, if I had supported and advocated their views? Obviously not. Hurrah for the true believers!
66 Those clever scientists! One of the newest techniques in food science comes from Professor Virchow, a chemist who now claims that meat stock does not have the slightest nutritional value. I propose putting him on a diet of thoroughly boiled meat, which should be entirely to his scientific satisfaction.