Havelaar’s predecessor, who certainly had wished to act rightly, but at the same time appeared to have been somewhat afraid of the high disfavour of the Government—the man had many children, and no means—had then, it seems, rather spoken to the Resident of what he himself called outrageous abuses, than named them frankly in an official Report. He knew that a Resident is not fond of receiving a written Report, which remains deposited in his archives, and may afterwards appear as evidence that his attention had been in good time drawn to this or that wrong, whilst an oral communication leaves him, without risk, the choice between dealing with the complaint or not. Such oral communications usually resulted in an interview with the Regent, who, of course, denied everything and insisted on proofs. Then the people were summoned who had had the temerity to complain, and crawling at the feet of the Adhipatti, they prayed for pardon. “No, the buffalo had not been taken from them for nothing; they quite believed that double the price would be paid for it.” “No, they had not been called away from their fields to labour without payment in the Sawahs of the Regent, for they knew very well that the Adhipatti would afterwards liberally reward them.” “They had made their complaint in a moment of baseless discontent . . . they had been mad, and begged that they might be duly punished for such outrageous disrespect!”
Then the Resident knew perfectly well what he was to think of this retraction of the complaint, but still that retraction gave him a splendid chance of maintaining the Regent in office and honour, and he himself was spared the disagreeable task of “embarrassing” the Government with an unfavourable Report. The reckless
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