Life in Java/Volume 1/Chapter 9
CHAPTER IX.
LEAVE SURABAYA FOR KEDIRIE—LOCKS—MARRIAGE OF VERENGEN TREES—MODJOPHAIT—REVERED BIRDS—A POOR MAN'S PET—DRIVE TO THE TOLOGO—BATHING-PLACE OF THE SULTANAS—RUINS OF THEIR PALACE—THE KOOBOORAN, PLATAHARAN, OR WISHING-SHEDS—THE REQUESTS OF LUCK SEEKERS—DARAWATTl'S TOMB—TROUBLESOME HORSES—LATE ARRIVAL—KEDIRIE—WRETCHED HOTEL—SIMPLE FOOD—WE RIDE TO SALOMANGLAIN—TIGER HAUNT—BLITAR, PANATHARAN, AND TOLOGO.
CHAPTER IX.
Having obtained the passport, we started for Kedirie, at half-past five A.M.; for as we had a long day's journey before us, we wished to have as much of the cool morning air as possible.
The road, after passing Gedongtoerie, was the prettiest we had yet travelled over. Dense jungles of teak were on each side of us for a long distance, succeeded by very picturesque scenery, through which a large river directed its course, fertilising the fields and meadows between which it passed. Near Kola-Lengtrong we crossed a large lock, with several minor ones close by, all of which were well and substantially built, being considered quite the chef-d 'œuvre of this kind of work in Java. The object of these locks is to keep the water at a certain level, so as to irrigate the fields during the dry months, as well as to prevent too great a flow on the crops when an inundation takes place.
On the other side of the bridge we passed through a thickly populated part of the town of Modjokerto, and pulled up before the gates of the Regent's house. An extensive maidan, or alown alown, fully half a mile in circumference, separated us from his large bungalow; and on the other side of the alown alown were the dwellings of the Resident and Pungooloo.
Amongst the number of Verengen trees, two grew directly opposite the Resident's and Regent's houses, known as the married trees, the marriage of Verengens forming a native ceremony. On the wedding-day, numerous guests are invited by the Regent, among whom great feasting and merriment goes on, in the midst of which the young couple are planted. The Hadji, or priest, in pronouncing his slamat, or benediction, goes through a certain ceremony, on the conclusion of which a low brick fence, ornamented to suit the Regent's taste, is built around the trees, and they are watched and tended until they are considered old and strong enough to bear the " vicissitudes of life."
The trees, when thus married, are called Verengen Kuroong, and are henceforth regarded with almost superstitious veneration.
Between five and six miles from the town of Modjokerto are the ruins of Modjophait, in the direction of which, as soon as fresh horses were put to, we started. These ruins are situated about two miles from the post of Gema Khan. From the quantity of shells and portions of boats which have been found in various parts of the ruined city, as well as in the adjacent forest, the natives firmly believe that they cover the site of what was once a seaport town, which is said to have been destroyed by Mahomedan invaders in the reign of the Sultan Brodwidjoyo, a.d. 1400. The site is now thickly surrounded by wood, and such is the veneration of the natives for all that remains of the town which they believe once to have been the capital of their forefathers, that, in their opinion, the birds always sing sweeter in this locality than in any other.
A man in one of the adjoining provinces had a Morobo, which had been caught in a wood by his son. This songster, much thought of, like all birds from Modjophait, was perfectly white, and consequently rare and valuable. Some wealthy prince, hearing of the wonderful little creature, offered its owner a large sum for it, which he refused. This royal personage, however, not yet despairing of gaining the object he so much desired, despatched a second messenger with four pure white and four jet black horses from his own stables.
"Bid him," said he to the messenger, "choose between these. Surely four of my own horses will amply recompense him for the loss of a little bird."
But the prince was still doomed to disappointment, for the poor man would not consent to part with his favourite.
"Poor as I am," said he, in reply to the prince's message, "I would not give up my little bird for the richest gift from the Soesuhunan's Palace. A great blessing has been given to me; if I sell it, I forfeit all my luck."
I have told this simple tale merely to prove the estimation in which any bird from these woods is held.
On a large mound stands the ruined gateway of the city walls. The towers on each side are now about thirty-five feet in height, but, from the appearance of their ruins, must once have been much higher. They are built of red brick, closely cemented together, and are about ten feet apart. On a level with the ground are still to be seen the sockets in which the pivots of the gate turned, apparently much worn from the constant use to which they had been put. The tower to the right has on one side an upper and lower abutment, the angles being of bricks and dove-tailed. Below these is a niche, in which, probably, a figure was formerly placed. The wall is continued from this gateway, and is supposed to have been ten miles in circumference, but little of it now remains perfect. The tower on the left hand is completely netted over by the entwined roots of a tall tree whose outspread branches cover the gateway like an enormous umbrella.
From here we drove about a mile further on, to the artificial lake or bathing place of the ancient Sultanas of Modjophait. The shape of the lake is oblong, and the walk round it is said to be half a mile. The walls are four feet in thickness, consisting of solid masonry, only a small part of which has given way, attesting its former strength. At the two farthest angles are the ruins of two small houses, probably at some former time used for retiring before and after the bath. At the head of the lake is a flight of steps in a sad state of dilapidation.
This Tologo, as it is called, is partially surrounded by Banyan, Yetty, and Verengen trees, between which and the edge of the lake is a fine broad walk. Beyond the top of the Tologo rises a thick jungle, in the many labyrinths of which the very foundation, and some pillars of the palace, said to have been that of the Sultana, are still to be seen, as well as the former site of many a dwelling, around which the trees have grown for centuries. We surveyed with feelings it would be difficult to define a scene in which the sounds of human merriment were once heard, but which is now the haunt of wild beasts, who, at night, rend the air with their discordant yells.
The Tologo is very low, and, in many parts, full of rushes and weeds. Buffaloes now stretch their cumbrous proportions on the spot where clear water once reflected the limbs of royal beauties, and the kingfisher shrieks as he flies over the ruins which once doubtless echoed back the music of the Gamalan.
No man, it is said, was allowed to venture near the precincts of this lake, except the few who acted as body-guards, or those who were specially invited by the Sultan on gala days.
Near this we visited a large cemetery, known by the name of Koobooran, covering about three acres and a half, and consisting of four large and two small courts, varying from twenty to thirty-five feet square, most of which are filled with tombs. Each square is surrounded by a brick wall, about five feet nine inches high, of Modjophait solidity, with passages and doors leading from one to the other. It is worthy of notice, that this is the only large koobooran of such ancient date still extant.
In the first court is an attap shed over a raised floor of brick. This is called the Plataharan. People come to it from distant parts as pilgrims, and remain for days and nights to invoke the spirits of the great departed to aid them in the accomplishment of any desired object, or to inspire them with some dream from which they may glean hopes of coming good fortune. In reply to the inquiries of Drahman, whom I requested to put some questions to the pilgrims we met, one old man, almost blind, said he had come from a great distance to pray for good health and a long life. A thoughtful-looking young man asserted he had walked from Gressik, a distance of fifty miles, to see if he could dream of anything portending future success to some speculations on which he had lately ventured, in a vessel bound to a port in Sumatra. The replies of all we questioned were much to the same effect—the object desired being, of course, different with each individual, except in the case of health and long life, which many concurred in praying for.
One young girl seemed very shy about revealing to us her secret wish. " Depend upon it," said Drahman, "she has come here to ask for a husband, or else to get rid of one." It was a curious scene altogether, for, as the shed was open on all sides, to permit the devotees to gaze on the tombs, we could see them distinctly. Some were lying down, apparently asleep, supposed to be favoured with visions: others were seated, for what object I cannot say, with one leg under them, their sarongs wrapped tightly round the body, and their two hands clasped round the other leg, on the knee of which rested their chin. I was told they would sit thus for hours, gazing on vacancy.
The natives have a great veneration for these tombs of their departed royal family, and the keepers were so strict at one time, that no European was permitted to enter the sacred precincts. They would not even allow their own countrymen to set foot inside until they had gone through certain preparatory forms of prayer, ablutions, and other ceremonies. But frequent contact with Europeans has abolished some of these strict prohibitory rules, and they now seem quite pleased to show strangers through the gloomy place.
In the second court there are two sheds, called pondopos, which are used as a kind of salle d' attente for the cortége or suite attending any royal personages who may have visited the third court, in the centre of which is another plataharan, for royalty to dream and wish in. In this royal court are interred the mortal remains of Prince Modjaagoang, who, having died a little more than forty years ago, owes the honour of being deposited in this Koobooran to the fact of his having been a descendant of the Brodwidjoyo or Modjaphait family.
Leaving this court, we mounted to the left a flight of steps leading into another smaller one, where, raised from the ground by a few steps, is the tomb of the Sultana Darawatti, "a great and wise woman in her time," say the keepers, whose knowledge of her life only extends thus far. When she lived or died is a matter of great doubt, although from the appearance of the tomb one would be inclined to believe that the Darawatti must have reigned, to say the least, about a century ago. There are several other tombs in the same place, one of which was pointed out to us as that of Darawatti's favourite baboo or nurse.
The Suma, or Sumaja, as the Javanese call it, and the Nogosarie, a fine large tree with a beautiful white flower, which has a yellow tuft in the centre, shade this quiet retreat. The latter tree is always seen in royal cemeteries; as well as the Kuppoo, a large cotton tree, producing a very inferior kind of cotton.
Having seen all that interested us, we refreshed ourselves with cocoa-nut water, for neither here nor in the Straits does it go by the name of milk,[1] and proceeded on our journey through a very uninteresting country, in which we saw only fields of dried sawahs, looking like scorched-up stubble, with an occasional plantation of teak.
Madjaagoang, our next station, was formerly the dwelling-place of the prince whose tomb we saw in the Koobooran. About fifteen miles from this station are the ruins of a town of the same name, said to have been destroyed about the same time as Modjophait.
After we had arrived at Groppio, our thirteenth post from Surabaya, and sixth from Modjokerto, the fresh horses took an obstinate turn, and gave so much trouble and annoyance to the coucer and lopers on starting, that the post-master was obliged to change them two or three times before we could proceed, the animals quarrelling amongst themselves whether in play or anger I know not, but the refractory ones did nothing but prance and kick one another. As it was quite dark by the time we started, we were obliged, for safety, to obtain torches, that Drahman might carry one at the back of the carriage. These torches, which are made of split bamboo, are very large and thick, and when seen from a distance present quite an imposing effect. This is the usual mode of lighting the vehicles unprovided with lamps, and when many carts or carriages are passing to and fro on the same road, I should think they must make quite a lively appearance. In our journey in the interior, however, we seldom came across a carriage of any description—except in the large towns—and only buffalo carts by daylight.
It was very late when we arrived at Kedirie, after a sixteen hours' journey, the latter part of the road appearing almost interminable.
The hotel we stayed at was small and dirty, and the food so bad, that the few days we spent in Kedirie we lived almost entirely on rice, and on fresh or salted duck eggs.
Kedirie lies between the provinces of Madioen, Rumbang, Surabaya, Pagitan, and Passeroewan. It is a very fertile province, abounding in paddy fields, the rice of which is so large grained, white, and farinaceous, that the natives say that " one chupa[2] of Kedirie rice will feed a man two days." There are also a number of sugar factories, and the coffee is considered to have a very rich flavour. In its numerous forests the wild buffalo and bison have been seen; and notwithstanding the various means contrived for catching and hunting them, tigers infest many parts.
Horses, which are considered to be the finest and swiftest in all Java, are largely bred here.
Kedirie is said to be often spoken of in a Javanese tale called Döo, as one of the most ancient kingdoms of the island. The town is situated on one side of the river Kedirie, or Brantes, nearly opposite the fort. The wooden bridge across the river was undergoing repairs when we were there, and, owing to the strong currents, two men had already lost their lives while engaged in the work. u Their fate had arrived, sir," said one of the workmen who was standing by when we were looking at the bridge; " what more could be done? Besides, we have an old saying, that the Brantes never allows man to build over her without making him pay the penalty in one way or another."
The Residency being situated on the other side of the river, I crossed next morning in a boat, which, during the time the bridge was undergoing repairs, was provided for passengers, and made my call upon the Resident. In his garden I saw some figures which he subsequently told me had been found in the neighbourhood. They were different from those we had seen at Singasari or Malang. Two were painted quite black, had prominent eyes, flat noses, and long hair running in rows of curls across the back of the head, and partially down the back. The left hand grasped a Titanic club, and the right rested on the left knee. They were seated, and looked so fierce and warlike, that I fancied they probably represented the war-gods of ancient times.
The Resident gave me an account of everything interesting that was to be seen in the environs, and kindly promised to lend us ponies for an excursion to the hills of Salomanglain, where, he said, Ave should see some remains of the Buddhists.
Later in the afternoon, we crossed the river, and mounted the ponies waiting for us on the opposite side. Our road for a long way lay between plains of sawahs, at the end of which we turned to the left, and proceeded along a very uneven path leading to a shallow ford, after crossing which we rode on till we came to a broken wooden bridge, which it was impossible to pass. As the stream it spanned was not very wide, and did not appear deep, we endeavoured to urge our ponies to ford it, but neither with whip nor spur could we prevail upon them to make the attempt. The Resident's mandoer and Drahman, who had accompanied us, thinking we could not proceed by this route, set off in search of some other road; and during their absence we again tried our timid animals—this time with better effect, though we well-nigh had reason to regret our rashness. I succeeded in gaining the opposite side, though not without some difficulty, for the bed of the stream was so muddy that my pony had considerable trouble in extricating each foot from the compact mass into which it sunk. My wife, however, was less fortunate. When nearly across, her horse sank up to his haunches, and for some seconds struggled and plunged, apparently quite helpless, in the mud; but before I could render any assistance, the persevering animal, having succeeded in getting his forefeet on the bank, made a dart, leaped forward, and escaped with his rider uninjured.
"When the mandoer and Drahman came up, they managed to scramble on foot across the broken bridge. After we had ridden for some distance further, we dismounted, leaving our horses in the care of a man who had followed us. We were met at the same time by the jurn coonchee, or keeper of the keys, belonging to the temple of Salomanglain, whither we were bound.
Our path now lay between wild trees and shrubs. One of these, the Jarah, has a berry from which the natives extract a myñha, or oil. This oil is used medicinally, and is also rubbed over the wood-work of houses, for the purpose of protecting it from the destructive white ants, to which its strong scent acts as a powerful resistant. A few coffee trees here and there showed their sweet white flowers, and the wild pine-apple and cane grew almost in our narrow pathway.
We walked in front, followed by the juru coonchee, mandoer, Drahman, and one or two villagers. The former was provided with a fowling-piece, without which he never visits the temple, as all this neighbourhood is infested with tigers and leopards. When a number of wood-cutters are walking through a jungle or forest, the post of danger is always in the rear, and they draw lots for the purpose of deciding who is to walk last in the file. It is the habit of the tiger, when he has marked his prey, to creep stealthily by and wait for the last man, on whom he rushes, suddenly bearing him off in an incredibly short time. Unless prompt assistance be rendered, there is no hope in such a case of saving the unfortunate victim, or of overtaking the savage animal. I asked the juru coonchee if he had ever seen a tiger on the path along which we were walking. "Not often here, sir," was the cheering reply.
The temple of Salomanglain[3] consists of a series of chambers hewn out of the solid rock, about twelve or fifteen feet from the ground. There is a flight of steps, much worn, by which we managed to scramble to the openings, resembling, from a distance, two apertures in a bee-hive, the shape of the rock itself somewhat favouring the likeness. Each of these rooms is capable of holding twenty men; the two in front being the lightest, as those at the back are divided by a wall, with only an opening left for communication. At the further end of the two first chambers there are seats, and a kind of alcove or recess, where Buddhist priests or patriarchs may have probably sat, grim and silent, watching the fitful flame of the offering, while the voice of hundreds upon hundreds of devotees, standing in and at the foot of the vaults, made the gloomy caverns resound with their songs and prayers.
In both of these rooms is an altar, placed in the centre of the floor, on each side of which are two figures, standing erect, with their arms crossed on their breast, known to the natives by the names of Dunawang and Gewymongsajie. On the ceiling are sculptured several faces, disfigured by time, and the head of an alligator, the scales of which are minutely chiselled.
In one of the caverns is a large cavity, said to be the opening to a tunnel which extends far into the bowels of the Klotau mountains. I felt a great inclination to penetrate this mysterious place, thinking I might meet some more remains of Buddhism; but the guide persuading me not to attempt it, on the ground of its being considered a tiger haunt, I gave up the idea.
On our way back I asked the juru coonchee, who I found spoke Malay well, if he himself had ever seen a tiger in the temple. His reply was,
"Oh! yes, sir; one morning in particular, I remember, I was ascending the steps, when an enormous one suddenly rushed out of the opening to the left, and stood looking at me; before, however, I could take a good aim at him he made a speedy retreat down the side, a few yards from me, and was soon lost to sight. But," he added, "when the paddy is sown, one always sleeps in this temple the first Tuesday in the month, to propitiate the good spirits for the growth of the grain, and on that day I would on no account kill a tiger seen near the spot, as it might bring a darakha (a curse) upon me."
By the time we reached our hotel it was quite dark, as, on account of many little unforeseen difficulties, we had been much longer on the road than we had anticipated.
Blitar is less than half a day's journey from Kedirie, and is a delightful excursion for those who care for beauty of scenery. The neighbourhood is lovely, and the view of Kloet and Kresi forms quite a superb panorama. From here it is but nine paals further to Panatharan, where are to be seen many tombs of old kings and chiefs, some of which are well worth a visit; and at Tologo, three paals distant from Panatharan, there is a Swisslooking village surrounded by mountains, with the ruins of an ancient temple close to the margin of a small lake.
- ↑ When the kernel of an old cocoa-nut is grated, mixed with a portion of the water, and squeezed through a cloth, the liquid pressed out is called Susu Klapa, or cocoa-nut milk, and is [made use of to flavour curries and other native' preparations.
- ↑ Chupa is a measure, containing about a quart.
- ↑ I learnt subsequently, from the Mungko-Negoro of Socrakarta, that it was excavated by the order of Kilisuchie, the sister of four brothers who were kings respectively of Kedirie, Singosarie, Bojonogoro, and Gongolo. She was a fanatic, and is said to have lived here, self-exiled from society.