Translation:Max Havelaar/33
Prologue -
Chapter 1 -
Chapter 2 -
Chapter 3 -
Chapter 4 -
Chapter 5 -
Chapter 6 -
Chapter 7 -
Chapter 8 -
Chapter 9 -
Chapter 10 -
Chapter 11 -
Chapter 12 -
Chapter 13 -
Chapter 14 -
Chapter 15 -
Chapter 16 -
Chapter 17 -
Chapter 18 -
Chapter 19 -
Chapter 20 -
Chapter 21 -
Chapter 22 -
Chapter 23 -
Chapter 24 -
Chapter 25 -
Chapter 26 -
Chapter 27 -
Chapter 28 -
Chapter 29 -
Chapter 30 -
Chapter 31 -
Chapter 32 -
Chapter 33 -
Chapter 34 -
Chapter 35 -
Chapter 36 -
Chapter 37 -
Chapter 38 -
Chapter 39
That Shawlman is a nasty bastard! You must know, reader, that Bastiaans is often not in the office, since he is gouty. For me it is a matter of conscience that the funds of the firm – Last & Co – should not be spoiled, for my principles are firm, so I got the day before yesterday the idea that this Shawlman does not write bad at all, and because he looks so poor, so I could get him for a moderate wages, I found that it was my obligation to find a cheap replacement for Bastiaans. So I went to Lange Leidschedwarsstraat. The shoplady was there, but it appeared that she did not recognise me, although I said her very clearly that I was Mr Drystubble, coffee broker, from Laurier Canal. It is always a bit painful if one is not recognised, but it was not so cold this day, and the previous time I wore my fur coat, so I think that was the problem and I made no problem of it, I mean the insult. So I said again that I was Mr Drystubble, coffee broker, from Laurier Canal, and I asked her to go and see if that Shawlman was in, because I was unwilling to meet that wife again, who was always unsatisfied. But the junk shop keeper refused to go up. She could not climb stairs for all those beggars, she said, I had better go and see myself. And I got another description of the stairs and landings, which I did not need, for I always recognise a place where I have been before, because I pay attention to everything. I got used to that in business. So I climbed up the steps and knocked at the familiar door, which opened. I went in, and since there was no-one I the room, I looked around. There was not much to see. An incomplete pair of trousers with an embroidered strip hung over a chair. Why should such people wear embroidered trousers? In a corner was a not very heavy suitcase, which I picked up in my mind, and on the mantelpiece were a few books which drew my attention. A strange collection! A few volumes by Byron, Horace, Bastiat, Béranger, and... guess? A Bible, a complete Bible, including the apocryphal books! I had not expected that of Shawlman. And it appeared that he had read it, for there were lots of notes on loose scraps of paper, which all regarded the scripture – he said that Eve was born twice - the man is crazy – and everything was the same handwriting of the articles in that cursed packet. It seemed that he had in particular studied the book of Job, for the pages were loose. I think that he begins to feel the hand of the Lord, and attempts to be reconciled with God by reading the holy books. Well, I'm not against it. And while waiting my eye fell on a lady's working box, which was on the table. I just saw it. There were some half-finished stockings for children in it, and lots of crazy poems. Also a letter to Shawlman's wife, as could be seen from the address. The letter was open, and it appeared that it had been wrinkled angrily. Well, it is my principle never to read something that wasn't addressed to me, because that is bad behaviour. So I never do it i fit isn't in my interest. But this time I got an idea that it was my duty to see that letter, because it might tell me something about the charitable intention which led me to Shawlman. I remembered that the Lord is always near his people, and since he gave me this unexpected opportunity to learn more about the man, thus saving me for the error to employ an indecent person. I always watch the Lord's indications carefully, and this has often been of advantage in my business. To my great surprise I saw that Shawlman's wife was of a distinguished family, for the letter was signed by a relation whose name in well-known in the Netherlands, and I was excited about the fair contents of that letter. It appeared to be someone who works zealously for the Lord, for he wrote that Shawlmans wife had better be divorced of such a scoundrel, who pulled her into poverty, who could not earn his own living, who was a villain because he had debts. The writer of the letter pitied her for her condition, although she was to blame herself for it, since she had left the Lord and had followed Shawlman. He wrote that she had to return to the Lord and that the entire family would join forces to get her some sewing jobs. But first of all she had t divorce that Shawlman, who was shameful to the family.
In short, there was in church not more edification that in that letter.
I knew enough, and I was thankful that I had been warned in such a marvellous way. Without that warning I would again have been a victim of my good heart. So I decided to keep Bastiaans until I found a suitable successor, for I don't like to fire someone, and at this moment we cannot spare a an, since there is a lot of business.
The reader will be curious to know what happened during the last circle and whether I found the solution of the game. Well, I haven't been to the circle. Strange things have happened, I've been to Driebergen with my wife and Marie. My father-in-law, the old Last, the son of the first Last – when the Meyers were still in business, but they aren't there any more – had said so often that he wanted to see my wife and Marie. Well, it was rather nice weather, and because of my fear for the love history with which Stern had threatened, I remembered that invitation again. I talked about it with my bookkeeper, who is a man with much experience, and after some thinking he suggested that I think about it till the morrow. I did so, for I am very quick to do what I decide to do. On the morrow I found how sensible his advise had been, for during the night I got the idea that it was better to delay my decision till Friday. Short, after considering everything carefully – there was much for it and much against – we went – Saturday afternoon, and Monday morning we went back. I would not have told you all this if it was not related to my book. First of all I appreciate that you know why I do not comment against the nonsense which Stern certainly has reeled off last Sunday. There was something about someone who would hear something when he was dead – Marie told me about it. She had heard it from the little Rosemeijers, who are sugar traders. Second, because I am not really convinced that all those stories about poverty and troubles in the East are downright nonsense. So one sees how travelling gives one the opportunity to fathom the things well.
Saturday evening my father-in-law had accepted an invitation who had been a Resident in the East, and who now lives in a large house, We have been there, and true, I cannot sufficiently praise the fine reception. He had sent his vehicle to fetch us and the driver wore a red jacket. The weather was a bit too cold to see the premises, which must be wonderful in summer, but once we were inside, we longed for nothing, for there were lots of things which give entertainment: a billiard hall, a library, a covered iron glass gallery which served as a hot house and the kakatoea was sitting on a silver stool. I had never seen such a thing, and I immediately remarked that good conduct is rewarded. That man had certainly taken care of his duties, for he had three knighthoods. He possessed a wonderful place, and also a house in Amsterdam. There was a supper with truffles and the waiters at the table wore red jackets, just like the driver.
Since I am very interested in the matters in the Indies – because of the coffee – I started a conversation about that, and I soon found what my limits were. The Resident told me that he had always been in a good position in the East, and that there is nothing true about unsatisfied people. I talked about Shawlman. He knew him, and in an unfavourable way. He assured me that it was very good to chase that man away, for he was a very unsatisfied man who had remarks about everything, while there was a lot to remark about his own conduct. He frequently abducted girls, which he brought with his own wife, and he never paid his debts, which is really bad behaviour. Well, from the letter which I had read I had seen that those accusations were well founded, so it pleased me that I had judged the things so well, and I was satisfied with myself. It's for that that I am known when I am near my pillar – that my judgements are always right, I mean.
That Resident and his wife were good, generous people. They told us a lot about the life in the East. It must be really pleasant there. They said that their place in Driebergen was not half the size of their "premises", as they called it, in the interior of Java, and that he needed a hundred people to maintain it. But – and this may show much they were loved – those people did that without payment, only out of charity. They also told that, when they left the Indies, their furniture was sold for ten times their value, because the native chiefs are so happy to buy something that reminds of a Resident who has been so good for them. I told this to Stern afterwards, and he said that they were forced to do so, which he could prove from Shawlman's packet. But I replied that Shawlman was a gossiper, that he abducted girls – just like the young German at Busselinck & Waterman's – and that I attach no value to his opinion. After all, a Resident himself had explained how the situation was, so Mr Shawlman could teach me nothing.
There were more people from the East. Among them a man who was very rich and who earned a lot by trading tea, which the Javanese make for him for little money and which the government buys from him for a high price, to encourage that the Javanese work. This man was also angry with the unsatisfied people, who always speak and write to the government. He continuously praised the government of the colonies, and he was convinced that they lost a lot on the tea which was bought from him, so that it was true generosity to pay such a high price for an article that has actually little value, which he even did not like, for he always drank Chinese tea. He also said that the Governor-General had lengthened the thus named tea contracts, in spite of the calculation that the country lost a lot with this business, that the Governor-General was a good and skilled man, and a good friend for those who used to know him. That Governor-General would not listen to talks about bad profits on tea, and when there had been talk of withdrawing the contracts, in 1846 I think, he has done him a great service by deciding that he'd go on buying his tea. Yes, he exclaimed, my heart bleeds when someone gossips about such a noble man! If he had not been there, I would go on foot with wife and children. Then he ordered his barouchet to come, and this looked wonderful, with magnificent horses, so I can understand that one glows of gratefulness for such a Governor-General. It is pleasant for the soul to watch these lovely things, in particular if they are compared to that cursed complaining of creatures like Shawlman.
The next day that Resident visited us, and also the gentleman for whom the Javanese make tea. They are fine people, and distinguished. Both inquired at the same time with what train we intended to arrive in Amsterdam. We did not quite understand what this meant, but later it became clear, for when we arrived at the station, Monday morning, there were two servants, one with a red jacket and one with a yellow jacket. Both said that they had received a wire that they had to collect us with their vehicles. My wife was confused, and I wondered what Busselinck and Waterman would have said if they had seen it – two vehicles at the same time for us, I mean. It was hard to choose, for I did not want to make either party angry, by rejecting such a kind offer. What to do? But I saved myself again from this very inconvenient situation. I put my wife and Marie in the red coach – the carriage with the red jacket, I mean – and I took the yellow one – the yellow vehicle I mean.
How those horses ran! On Weesperstraat, where it's always dirty, the mud flew left and right, as high as houses. And it had to happen, there was that beggar Shawlman, a bent attitude, a bent head. I saw that he wiped the splashes from his face with the sleeve of his shabby jacket. I never before had such a fine trip, and my wife agreed.