Translation:Max Havelaar/11

The Resident of Bantam introduced the Regent and the Controller to the new Assistant Resident. Havelaar greeted both officials politely. He made the Controller – it is always a bit painful to meet a new superior – feel at ease with a few kind words, as if he immediately wanted to introduce a close friendship, which makes conversation a lot easier. The way he greeted the Regent was as it belonged with someone who carries the golden pajong and who would at the same time be his younger brother. With distinctive kindness he rebuked him for his too ardent zeal, which had carried him to the boundaries of his department, in this weather. In fact, the Regent had, according to etiquette, no requirement to do so.

"Truly, Mr Adhipatti, I am angry with you because you took the toil – only for me. I did not expect to meet you until I reached Rangkas-Betoeng."

"It was my wish to see the lord Assistant Resident as soon as possible, so we could be friends," replied the Adhipatti.

"For sure, I feel very honoured. But I dislike to see someone of your rank and your age to go through all that trouble. And on horseback!"

"Yes, Mr Assistant Resident! When service calls me, I am always quick and strong."

"It would be too much to require it of you! Don't you think so, Resident?"

"The. Lord. Adhipatti. Is. Very."

"Fine, but there are limits."

"Zealous," dragged the Resident.

"Fine, but there are limits," Havelaar had to repeat, as if to correct the previous word. "If you allow it, Resident, we'll make some room in the coach. The baboe can stay here, we'll send her a tandoe from Rangkas-Betoeng. My wife will take Max in her lap – won't you, Tine? There will be sufficient space."

"Of. Course. I"

"Verbrugge, we'll carry you as well, I don't see why..."

"Agree!" said the Resident.

"I don't see why you'd go on horseback through this mud. There is space enough for all of us. And we can know each one better. Don't you think, Tine, that this will do? Here, Max, look, Verbrugge, isn't he a nice chap? This is my little boy, this is Max!"

The Resident was sitting with the Adhipatti in the pendoppo. Havelaar called Verbrugge to ask to whom the white horse with the red saddle-cloth belonged. And when Verbrugge came to the entrance of the pendoppo, to see what horse he meant, he put his hand on his shoulder and asked:

"Is the Regent always so zealous?"

"He is a strong man for his age, Mr Havelaar. You understand that he wants to make a good impression."

"Yes, I understand that. I heard many good things about him. He is civilised, isn't he?"

"Oh yes."

"And he has a big family?"

Verbrugge looked at Havelaar, as if he did not understand the change of the topic. For a person who did not know Havelaar, this was often hard. The swiftness of his spirit often caused him to skip a few links during a conversation, and although the change was in his thoughts very gradual, you could hardly blame a person who was not so swift or not wont to this swiftness, that he looked at such an occasion with the silent question on his lips: Are you crazy or not?

That's what Verbrugge thought, and Havelaar had to repeat the question before he answered:

"Yes, he has a very extensive family."

"And are Medjiets being built in the department?" Havelaar continued, "again on a tone which, contradictory to the words, appeared to indicate that there was done link between the mosques and the Regent's family."

Verbrugge replied that there was certainly a lot of labour on mosques.

"Yes, yes, I knew it!" cried Havelaar. "Now tell me, are many lease payments overdue?"

"Well, it could be a bit better..."

"Right, and in particular in the district Parang-Koedjang," said Havelaar, as if he found it easier to give the reply himself. "What is the amount of the assessment this year?" he continued, and when he saw that Verbrugge hesitated a bit, as if he was thinking of an answer, Havelaar cut him short by continuing in the same breath:

"Well, well, I already know. 86,000 and some hundreds, 15,000 more than in the previous year, but only 6,000 more than in '45. Since '43 we advanced only 8,000, and the people are poor, well Malthus! In twelve years we only rose 11 percent, and this is not very precise, because the counts used to be inexact – and they still are! From '50 to '51 there was even a decline. The amount of cattle is not advancing either – that's a bad sign, Verbrugge! What darn! What is that horse jumping, I think it has the staggers. Come and see, Max!"

Verbrugge noticed that there was little he could teach the new Assistant Resident, and that there was no preponderance because of "local seniority". Besides, the good boy did not covet that.

"But it's a matter of course," Havelaar continued, taking Max on his arm. "In Tjikandi and Bolang they are very glad about it, and the rebels in the Lampongs too. I would be glad to cooperate with you, Mr Verbrugge! The Regent is a man of age, and therefore we must… say is his son-in-law still a chief of a district? Altogether I think he is a person who deserves obligingness, I mean the Regent. I am very glad that this is such a backward and poor region, and I hope to remain here a long time."

He shook hands with Verbrugge and, coming back to the table where the Resident, the Adhipatti and Mrs Havelaar were seated, he felt a bit more than five minutes before that this Havelaar was not as crazy as the commander thought. Verbrugge certainly had good senses, and knew the department almost as well as someone can know an area of that size where nothing is printed. So Verbrugge began to understand that there had to be a relation between the apparently unrelated questions of Havelaar, and also that the new Assistant Resident, although he had never been to the department before, knew something about what was going on. He did not yet understand the joy about the poverty in Lebak, but he assumed that he had misunderstood that. However, afterwards, when Havelaar said several times the same thing, he began to see that there was something noble in that joy.

Havelaar and Verbrugge sat down at the table, and while drinking tea and speaking about unimportant matters, they waited till Dongso reported to the Resident that fresh horses had been bridled. The travellers boarded the coach as well as they could and they departed. The road was bumpy which made talking difficult. Little Max was kept quiet with pisang and his mother, who kept him in her lap, was very reluctant that she was getting tired when Havelaar offered to relieve him of the heavy boy. During a forced delay in a mud hole Verbrugge asked the Resident, whether he had spoken the new Assistant Resident about Mrs Slotering?

"Mr. Havelaar. Has Said."

"For sure, Verbrugge, why not? The lady can stay with us. I would not be happy..."

"That. It. Is. Fine," dragged the Resident uneasily.

"I would not be happy to deny my house to a lady in her circumstances. That's a matter of course, isn't it, Tine?"

Tine agreed that it was a matter of course.

"You have two houses in Rangkas-Betoeng," said Verbrugge. "There is enough room for two families."

"But even if there was less room..."

"I. did. Not. Dare. To."

"Well, Resident," cried Mrs Havelaar, "there is no doubt!"

"Promise. It. To Her. Because. It. Is."

"Even if it was a family of ten. As long as they can stand our company."

"A. Great. Burden. And. She. Is."

"But travelling is impossible in her position, Resident!"

A rough shock of the coach, which was drawn from the mud, put an exclamation point after Tine's statement that travelling was impossible for Mrs Slotering. Everyone had shouted "aye" as is usual after such a shock, Max had recovered the pisang, which he had lost due to the shock, in his mother's lap, and the following mud hole was already approaching when the Resident decided to complete his sentence by saying:

"A. Native. Woman."

"Oh, that makes no difference," said Mrs Havelaar, trying to make herself understood. "The Resident nodded, he was glad that the case was settled, and because it was so hard to speak. The journey continued silently."

This Mrs Slotering was the widow of Havelaar's predecessor who had died two months ago. Verbrugge, who had temporarily replaced the Assistant Resident, would have had the right to live during that time in the large house in Rangkas-Betoeng, which had, as in each department, been built for the chief of the regional administration. He had not done so, perhaps partly because he would soon have to move again and partly to leave the house to that lady and her children. But there was sufficient room, for apart from the rather big house for the Assistant Resident itself, there was in the same place a house that used to be served to that purpose, and in spite of its somewhat crumbling condition, it was still well-suited to live in.

Mrs Slotering had asked the Resident to recommend her when her husband was succeeded, so that she could stay in that old house until her childbirth, which she expected in a few months. This was the request that Havelaar and his wife had quickly responded too. That was their nature – they were always hospitable and eager to help.

We heard the Resident say that Mrs Slotering was a native woman. This requires some explanation for European readers, since one would easily presume that she was an actual Javanese woman.

The European society in the Dutch Indies has a sharp division in two parts: the actual Europeans and those who – although they have exactly the same legal rights – were not born in Europe and have more or less Indian blood in their veins. To honour the ideas of humanity in the Indies I must hurry to add that – although there is a sharp distinction in society between the to kinds of individuals, which towards the natives are equally known as Hollander – this distinction has not the barbarian character which is found in America. I do not deny that there is a lot of injustice in this relation, and that the word liplap always sounded in my ears as a proof that the non-liplap, the European, is often far from civilisation. It is true that the liplap is rarely accepted in fellowships and that he is usually – if I may say so – not taken seriously, but this exclusion or disparagement will seldom be suggested or defended as a base principle. Everyone is, of course, free to choose his own circumference and fellowship, and we cannot blame the actual European when he prefers to socialise with people of his own country rather than with persons who – apart from their more or less decent and sensible values – do not share his impressions and ideas or – and this is often the case when a different civilisation is assumed – whose prejudices differ from his.

A liplap – to use the term which is considered politer, I should have said a "thus named native child", but I ask for permission t use the common word which seems to be born from alliteration, without intending to be offensive, after all what does the word mean? – a liplap has many good properties. A European too. Both have bad properties, and in this aspect they are similar too. But the good and the evil which both have are very different, so that socialising together will not lead to mutual pleasure. Furthermore – and the government is much to blame for this – the liplap has often a bad education. It is not the question what a European would be like if he had been hampered from childhood in his education, but it is sure that the limited scientific development of a liplap in general does not allow him to be equal to a European, even though he individually may have priority over a certain European person in civilisation, science or art.

There is nothing new here. For example, in the state of William the Conqueror is was a matter of course that the lowest Norman was considered more exalted than the most civilised Saxon, and every Norman would boast on the superiority of Normandy, to obtain authority, although he would have been the least without the influence of his tribe, the superior party.

Of course this results in a certain forced behaviour in society. This can only be removed by philosophical, broad-minded views and measures of the government.

The European is in these relations on the winning side, and it is obvious that he feels at ease in this artificial preponderance. But often it is funny that someone, who obtained all his civilisation in the Rotterdam Zandstraat, laughs at a liplap who does not know whether Dutch words are masculine or neuter.

A liplap may be civilised, have a good education – they exist – as soon as the European who pretended to be sick to stay away from the ship where he had to wash cutlery, and who assumes that he is polite because he uses distinguished words like "uwee" and "verexkuseer", and who is the president of a trade company which earned a lot in the sale of indigo in 1800 umpteen – no, long before he possessed the toko in which he sold hams and rifles – when such a European says that the most civilised liplap is unable to pronounce the difference between h and g, he only laughs about his own stupidity.

But there is no reason to laugh about such thinks, he should have known that in Arab and Malay the sounds 'g' and 'h' are expressed by the same letter, that Hieronymus has changed via Geronimo in Jérôme, that huano became guano, that a want is a glove, that kous is from hose and that Guild Heaume has in Dutch become Huillem or Willem. That's not so much erudition to require of a man who made his fortune in indigo and got his civilisation from lucky dice playing – or worse!

And such a European cannot socialise with such a liplap!

I understand how William is an etymological change of Guillaume, and I must admit that I, in particular in the Moluccas, have met lots of liplaps who amazed me about the extent of their knowledge, and who reminded me that we Europeans, no matter how many means we had, were often backward when compared to those poor pariahs, who fought from childhood against unfair discrimination and a crazy prejudice against their skin colour.

But Mrs Slotering was forever safe to make errors in Dutch, since she spoke nothing but Malay. We'll soon see her when we have tea with Havelaar, Tine and little Max on the porch of the Assistant Resident's house in Rangkas-Betoeng, where the fellowship, after a painful journey, eventually arrived.

The Resident, who had only come to confirm the new Assistant Resident in is office, indicated that he wished to return to Serang the same day:

"Because. He."

Havelaar indicated that he was ready to hurry,

"Was. So. Busy."

and it was decided they would meet in a half hour on the great porch. Verbrugge had been prepared to this, and he had ordered many days in advance that all district chiefs, the patteh, the Kliwon, the Djaksa, the tax collector, some mantries and all native officials who had to assist at the ceremony, were supposed to gather in the capital.

The Adhipatti said goodbye and went home. Mrs Havelaar looked at her new home and she was very satisfied, in particular because there was a large garden, and that was wholesome for her little Max who needed to play outside. The Resident and Havelaar had gone to their quarters to get dressed, for it appeared that the official clothing was required at the ceremony which was due. Around the house stood hundreds of people who had either accompanied the Resident's coach or belonged to the train of the assembled chiefs. The servants of the police and the offices walked zealously to and fro. Well, in short, everything showed that the monotony of that forgotten place in the West of Java was interrupted for a while by a lot of movements.

Soon the fair coach of the Adhipatti entered the area. The Resident and Havelaar, shining of gold and silver, a bit tripping over the rapiers, boarded it and went to the Regent's home, where they were received with music of gongs and gamlangs. Verbrugge had also removed his muddy clothes and had arrived. The lesser chiefs were in a large circle, according to Asian custom on mats on the ground, and at the end of the long gallery was a table where the Resident, the Adhipatti, the Assistant Resident, the Controller and six chiefs were seated. Tea and cake were served, and the ceremony began.

The Resident stood up and read the decision of the Governor-General, appointing Max Havelaar as the Assistant Resident of the department Bantan-Kidoel or South-Bantam, as Lebak was called by the natives. He took the state sheet which contained the oath which is required to accept a service in general, which said that: "in order to be appointed or promoted to the office of … I promised nor gave anything to anyone, nor will I promise anything to anyone. I shall be faithful to his Majesty the King of the Netherlands, I shall obey his Majesty's representative in the provinces of the Indies, I shall make sure that all laws and decisions, which are given and will be given, and that I shall behave as is fit to a good … (here: Assistant Resident)."

Of course followed by the sacramental words: "so truly help me God Almighty".

Havelaar repeated the words which were read to him. Actually this oath also included the promise: "protect the native people against exploiting and suppression". But if you swore that you would maintain the existing laws and decisions, you only needed to glance at them, to understand that an additional oath was not required. But the legislator apparently thought that abundance never harms, and one requires an additional oath of the Assistant Residents, which explicitly mentions this obligation towards the common man. One more "God Almighty" was Havelaar's witness when he promised that he would "protect the native people against exploiting and suppression".

For a person who looked carefully it would have been worth while at this opportunity to watch the difference between attitude and tone of the Resident and of Havelaar. Both had assisted before at such ceremonies. The difference I mean was not in being surprised by something new or uncommon, but it was only caused by the different characters and ways of understanding of the two men. The Resident spoke a bit faster than usual, since he only needed to read the decision and the oaths, which saved him the trouble of searching for words, but yet he did everything with a dignity and seriousness which gave the casual observer a very high idea of the importance he attached to the matter. Havelaar however, who raised his fingers and spoke the oath, had something in his face, his voice and his attitude, as if he wanted to say: "It's a matter of course, I'd also do that without God Almighty". Whoso had some knowledge of men, would have trusted more in Havelaar's informality and apparent indifference than in the Resident's formal dignity.

Isn't it ridiculous indeed, to think that a man who is called to do justice, a man to whom the fate of thousands has been given, would feel himself bound by a few pronounced words, if he had not felt himself bound by his own heart, without those few words?

We believe that Havelaar, when he had met the poor and suppressed, would have protected them, even if he had promised the opposite to God Almighty.

The ceremony was followed by the Resident speaking to the chiefs. He introduced the Assistant Resident as the main chief of the department, invited them to obey him, to take care of their obligations and several more common remarks. Afterwards the chiefs were introduced to Havelaar, one by one. He shook hands with each of them, and the installation was finished.