Fuller details of the gardens and environs of Buitenzorg may be found in the handbook published by Messrs. G. Kolff and Co., Batavia.

One need not be wholly a scientific investigator to appreciate the beauties of Buitenzorg. There is here one view which has been described over and over again, oftentimes in the language of hyperbole--the view of the Tjidani Valley from the verandah of Bellevue Hotel. It is, indeed, difficult to avoid the use of extravagant language in the attempt to describe this beauty spot of Nature.

Though he was writing of a beautiful woman, F. Marion Crawford might have been describing some beautiful landscape when he wrote in his own exquisite style:--

"I think that true beauty is beyond description; you may describe the changeless faultless outlines of a statue to a man who has seen good statues and can recall them; you can, perhaps, find words to describe the glow and warmth and deep texture of a famous picture, and what you write will mean something to those who know the master's work; you may even conjure up an image before untutored eyes. But neither minute description nor well-turned phrase, neither sensuous adjective nor spiritual smile can tell half the truth of a beautiful living thing."

The n.o.ble Roman, prompted to exclaim "Behold the Tiber" as he stood on the summit of Kinnoull Hill and gazed upon the fertile valley of Scotland's n.o.blest stream, saw no fairer sight than this veritable Garden of Eden in Equatorial Java.

Seen in the afternoon when the setting sun is casting long shadows over the landscape, the scene in the Tjidani Valley is calculated to arouse the artistic senses of the most insusceptible. Miles away, the Salak raises his majestic cone against the blue sky. In the distance, the mountain forms a purple background for the picture, purple flecked with soft white patches of floating cloud. Beneath his ma.s.sive form, colour is lost in shadowy but closer at hand are the dark pervading greens of the trees and vegetation, palms and tree ferns and banana trees helping by their graceful form to provide the truely tropical features, while the equally graceful clumps of bamboo sway and creak in the light breeze, their pointed leaves supplying that perpetual flutter and movement which one a.s.sociates with the birches and beeches of one's native land. The cultivated patches on hillside and valley are rich in colour. Here, the yellow paddy is ripening for the sickle; there, it is bright green; alongside, the patient buffaloes are dragging a clumsy wooden plough through water-covered soil to prepare for the next crop.

The lake-like patches reflect weird outlines, and one almost imagines that they catch the brilliant colours from the sun-painted clouds.

Down the valley, crossing the picture from left to right is the river--the Tjidani,--a broad shallow stream when we saw it, in which men, women and children are constantly bathing. From the compact kampong nestling among the trees, the native women, clad in bright coloured sarongs, came with babies, who take to the water as if it were their natural element. Merry shouts of laughter ascend from the valley as the youngsters splash about and chase each other. Everything suggests beauty and peace and contentment, and as one drinks in the scene it is borne in upon one that the comparison with the Garden of Eden is not inapt. What could one wish for more than a beautiful, bounteous land and a happy, contented people!

On the Road to Sindanglaya

Long before sunrise, the sound of merry voices arose from the valley.

Already the natives were bathing in the Tjidani, and, when the light came, the primeval life on which the sun had gone down was reproduced in the model-like scene spread out before us. Our kreta for the journey over the Poentjak Pa.s.s had been ordered for six o'clock, but with un-Oriental punctuality it was a quarter-past live when the sound of carriage wheels broke in upon our dreams.

While we sipped our morning coffee,--Java hotel coffee has improved since Miss Scidmore anathematised it in 1899,--the sun's rays began to peep over the shoulder of the Salak, and dispelled the morning mists on river and valley. The Salak's fretwork crater stood out entirely clear--his form a purple background to the picture gradually unfolding itself. Nature was everywhere awake. Children's voices in play blended with the songs of early workers proceeding to the fields. b.u.t.terflies flitted and floated like detached petals from the flowers. Distance converted human figures into larger b.u.t.terflies, yellow and orange, pink and blue and red. If it were beautiful in the evening, the scene was enchanting in the morning, and it was with reluctance that we obeyed the summons to early breakfast, and followed our barang into the kreta to begin the journey to Sindanglaya.

It was half-past six o'clock when we were salaamed out of the courtyard of the Bellevue by the hotel "boys."

The kreta was not a handsome affair. In fact it was one of the most disreputable vehicles it has ever been our misfortune to travel in, and when we made acquaintance of the road it had to travel over we must give the owner credit for an abundant faith in the toughness of the kreta. It was a cross between the carromata of the Philippines and a covered dog-cart. There was no aid to mount. By a series of gymnastics we managed to get into the driver's seat--our own was behind his but also facing to the front. In attempting to get there, a sudden movement of the team sent us plunging into the barang, and, in extricating ourselves, head came in contact with the roof and hat went overboard.

Eventually we went off with a bound along the main street of Buitenzorg, scattering the fowls obtaining a precarious living in the roadway, and sending cats and dogs and goats flying for safety into the houses.

We had now time to examine the points of our team. It was composed of three tiny Battak ponies. Two were brown, and one a piebald in which a dingy chestnut strove for mastery with a dingier white. No two ponies were the same in size. One was in the shafts; the other two were in traces alongside. They tapered in size from right to left--the piebald on the left. The giant of the group had a nasty temper, and when lashed, as he was frequently during the drive, vented his anger upon the patient brute doing the lion's share of the work in the shafts. Upon the whole they did their work extremely well, for a great deal was asked of them, and they scarcely deserved the almost continuous flogging to which they were subjected by our driver.

Having travelled over the road from Buitenzorg to Sindanglaya by the Poentjak, without reserve, we advise pilgrims to Sindanglaya to patronise the road from Tjiandjoer. The local guide book remarks with truth: "The main road to the Poentjak being very steep, it does not afford a quick mode of travelling. At Toegoe, an extra team of horses must be added--or karbouws (water buffaloes) used instead of the horses, to pull the carriage at a slow pace up the mountain. Good walkers may, therefore, be advised to do this part of the road on foot, which will take them about an hour and a half. By doing so they will be more able to admire this marvellous work of Governor-General Daendels."

We suspect there is a touch of Dutch satire in this last remark. We have travelled the road, and we are not prepared to parody the old Scot's saying:--

"If you'd seen this road before it was made, You'd lift up your hands and bless General Wade"

Daendels may have been an admirable gentleman, a brave soldier, and a clever administrator, but his engineering skill did not equal his other qualities. It would have been much better if the road had never been made. Surely no highway was ever more badly graded, and we are not astonished that a practical people like the Dutch set themselves to construct a more sensible road by way of Tjitjoeroeg and Soekaboemie. We have seen paved mountain paths in China more inaccessible, but not much, and when we dashed up to the Sindanglaya Hotel at 12.15, we thought more highly of the team that had pulled us over the Pa.s.s than we could have believed when we formed our first early morning prejudices.

Needless to say, it is not a road for a motor car. It would be inadvisable to adopt this route to Sindanglaya if the party included ladies. But, if they have a taste for mountaineering, baggage should be sent by rail to Tjiandjoer under the care of some of the party, and carriages dispensed with at Toegoe and the remainder of the journey made on foot. As it was, a good deal of our journey up had to be made on foot over unblinded loose road metal.

Going down the other side the driver led the ponies for about a quarter of a mile, and then joined us in the kreta. That downward trip was the most perilous we ever made in anything that runs on wheels, except a train journey from Manila to Malolos during the Filipino insurrection in 1899. Jack London, the Californian novelist, once told us that life would not be worth living if it were not for the thrills. We had more thrills than we care to have crowded into one hour on that down-grade run from Poentjak to Sindanglaya. Several times, we retrimmed at the request of the driver, and we kept the barang from falling upon him, while he manipulated our three rakish adventurers from Battak. When an unusually severe lurch nearly precipitated us into the deep storm-water channel on the left or the carefully-irrigated paddy fields on the right, Jehu turned round and grinned a grin of fiendish appreciation, whilst we thanked with fervour the merciful Providence who preserved us from destruction, and wondered how long one could hold out with a broken limb, without surgical help, should the worst happen. It is the unexpected that happens. We got to Sindanglaya without any more serious damage than a bottle of Odol distributed amongst our best clothes.

Governor-General Daendels seems to have had a high opinion of this remarkable highway. We read: "The obstinacy with which he carried through his scheme of constructing the main road to the Preanger Regencies across this summit is really amazing. He never shrank from the terrible death-rate among the wretched labourers, nor from the difficulties and enormous cost to keep such a road in good condition, for, especially in the west monsoon, heavy rain-showers are continually washing the earth off the road. Yet it was by no means necessary." Let this be Governor-General Daendels' epitaph!

Had not one's attention been distracted by the eccentric performances of the kreta, one might well have admired the scenery. Close at hand, the road teems with fascinating pictures of native life. Only occasionally does one see a really beautiful face, but there is a pretty shyness such as one seldom sees on the roads of a European country. Although we read of the thirty millions of people in Java, there is still, apparently, room for more, and nearly every woman has a brown baby slung upon the hip and others dragging on her sarong, or seeking to efface themselves behind her none too ample form. At intervals, old women or young children keep shop, either in nipa huts or on mats under the shade of a kanari-tree. In the kampongs or collections of neat little huts which punctuate the way, a pasar (market) is being held, haberdashers with cheap gla.s.s and fancy wares being in juxtaposition with dealers in sarongs and the sellers of fruits and vegetables. On the stoeps of some of the houses, groups of women spin or weave cloth for the native sarong; some make deft use of the sewing machine of foreign commerce.

The road is fringed by a variety of trees and plants which only a botanist would attempt to describe. Colour is given to this fringe by the magenta bougainvillea, the red hibiscus, the pale blue convolvulus, the variegated crotons, and the orange and red of the lantana, and at places the poinsettia provides a predominating red head to the hedge-like greenery. Palms and tree ferns and feathery clumps of young bamboo are called to aid by Nature's landscape gardener; but they do not shut out the verdure-clad ravines that mark a waterway or the terraced rice-fields which climb almost to the top of the highest summits.

We thought we had seen the acme of perfection in rice cultivation and irrigation in China and j.a.pan. But here in Java, we have seen more to excite the admiration in this respect than in either of these countries.

One can only marvel at the completeness of the system of irrigation.

Rice is in all stages of cultivation, from the flooded paddy field to the grain in the ear being reaped by the gaily coloured b.u.t.terflies of women. Water buffaloes drag a primitive plough through the drenched soil, while the bright-faced young ploughboy, by what appears to be a superhuman effort, balances himself precariously on the implement.

On the left, we pa.s.s tea gardens, the tufty bushes low to the ground.

What strikes us first is the amazing regularity of the rows and the cleanness of the ground. An aroma of tea in the making escapes from the roadside factory and agreeably a.s.sails our sense of smell as we jolt past in our kreta.

We reached Kampong Toegoe at nine o'clock, refreshed both men and beasts, and harnessed two more ponies with long rope traces to help us to the summit of the Pa.s.s, which was reached at eleven o'clock. Here we made a deviation on foot to the Telega Warna (Colour-changing Lake) while the ponies rested for the downward journey. The path is a difficult one, and the lake itself is less interesting than the lovely vegetation by which it is surrounded. Ferns and bracken cover the hillside, pollipods predominating, orchids cling to tree stems, and higher up, the curious nest-fern and various forms of plant life attract attention. Tree is woven to tree by a network of mighty lianas.

The lake itself lies in what must have been the crater in the prehistoric period of activity of Megamendoeng. It is 100 metres in width, circular in shape, and about 100 fathoms deep. Fish are found in the lake, and they are regarded with veneration by the natives.

The steepness of the heavily wooded wall that rises hundreds of feet sheer round three sides reminds one of the geyser-studded old crater of Unzen, in the island of Kyushiu in j.a.pan, "Its gleaming mirror," the guide book says, "exhibits a wonderful luxury of tints and colours, shifting and changing whenever the gentle mountain breeze ruffles the smooth surface." We did not stay a sufficiently long time to experience any wonderful changes on the lake itself, but the surroundings are loaded with charm. The visitor to Sindanglaya should certainly not neglect to make the trip to the lake. We would recommend an excursion on foot from the hotel.

Once over the Pa.s.s, the view on the other side of the large basin-shaped plateau in which Sindanglaya lies is more attractive than on the Buitenzorg side, and, as we were to find on the following morning, a better idea is obtained of the wonderful industry of the people, and the remarkable extent to which the cultivation of the mountain slopes is carried on by them.

Sindanglaya and Beyond.

We had not gone far on our travels before we realised the presumptuousness of our attempt to "do" Java in a fortnight. It would require weeks to drink in all the subtle beauties and influences of Buitenzorg, to get the atmosphere of the place; and to derive the fullest measure of benefit and enjoyment from the visit to Sindanglaya, one would require at least a fortnight.

It will ever be matter for regret that we were unable to devote more time to the beauty spots of Western Java or to make the various interesting and health-giving excursions from Sindanglaya's comfortable hotel. We have already said that the ride over the Poentjak Pa.s.s should be avoided and the train taken from Buitenzorg to Tjiandjoer. The train leaving Batavia (Weltervreden Station) at 7.25 a.m. and Buitenzorg at 8.44 reaches Tjiandjoer at 12.04. Here, if a carriage has been ordered in advance, a representative of the Sindanglaya establishment meets pa.s.sengers, and the journey to the hotel is negotiated in two hours at a cost of two and a-half guilders. From Buitenzorg to Sindanglaya the hire of a carriage for pa.s.senger and baggage is nine guilders; from Sindanglaya to Buitenzorg it costs seven guilders. The train fare from Batavia to Buitenzorg is three guilders for first-cla.s.s and two guilders for second; from Batavia to Tjiandjoer, it is eight guilders first-cla.s.s and four guilders and seventy-five cents second.

The hotel, which consists of one main building with a number of small detached pavilions surrounded by roses and other flowers of the temperate zone, is situated on the slopes of the Gedeh, and is 3,300 feet above sea level. At this level one is able to move about long distances during the day without becoming exhausted, and in the evening the air is delightfully cool, falling just below 70 degrees the night we slept there. There is a tennis court, and the manager spoke of laying down another, and with billiards and skittles in the evening and a hot spring swimming bath, near the Governor-General's villa, for healthful recreation in the daytime, one need not feel too much the absence of city life and companionship. The tariff is the moderate one of six guilders a day, but it is reduced to five guilders per day when a stay of a week or more is made.

The Governor-General's summer residence, Tjipanas, is here, a quarter of a mile from the hotel. It is a prettily situated bungalow residence, standing quite close to the main road from Tjiandjoer, and surrounded by a garden which transports one at once to the south of England. Here, as in many other places in Java, the notice appears: "Verbodden Toegang;"

but a courteous application to the Steward in charge obtains a hearty welcome to inspect the grounds. These are well stocked with dahlias, roses, hortensias, begonias, cowslips, sweet williams, wall-flower, and other old-fashioned flowers, and the bloom-covered fuschias carried one's thoughts back to pleasant days spent in Devonshire dales. From the lawns sweet-smelling violets perfumed the air. Matchless orchids clung to the trees, and the delicate maiden-hair fern held its own with the hardier varieties. Dusky fir-trees, groups of Australian araucarias, and j.a.panese oak trees and chestnuts set off the brightness of the flower beds. In the park there is a beautiful pond, from the centre of which a fountain throws a crystal spray to catch the sun's rays and dispense a wealth of glittering diamonds.

Hot water is the literal meaning of Tjipanas, and a hot spring in the vicinity of the villa supplies the bath-rooms, as well as the swimming bath of the Sanatorium.

There is a fine view from the villa, but a better prospect is obtained from Goenoeng Kasoer, some hundreds of feet higher, where a former Governor-General often took his ontbijtberg (or breakfast). It is now known as Breakfast Hill. A silver mine in the neighbourhood was worked for a time by the John Company.

The mountain garden of Tjibodas, mentioned in a previous article, is well worth a visit. A good walker, starting at six o'clock, can go there, breakfast and be back at the hotel by noon. But the excursion to be taken by everyone who stays at Sindanglaya for any length of time is to the falls at Tjibeureum, Kandang Badak and the crater of the Gedeh.

Ladies may make the trip in sedan chairs; gentlemen on foot or on horseback. The falls of Tjibeureum consist of three cataracts, falling 400 feet down a perpendicular crag, and the winding road pa.s.ses through some interesting jungle scenery.

From Tjibeureum, the path winds up a steep ascent, and through a narrow cleft in the rocks, a natural gateway to which the natives have attached some wonderful legends. Hot springs break through the mountain crust and run side by side with crystal-pure cold brooks, as is often the case on the mountains in j.a.pan.

After a two and a half hours' climb from Tjibeureum, Kadang Badak (or Rhinoceros Kraal) is reached. It lies almost half way up the saddle which connects the Gedeh with the Pangerango, and although there are now no traces of pachyderms, it is stated that both this place and the Telega Warna were favourite haunts of the rhinoceros not so very many years ago. It is recommended that the climbers should spend the night in the hut here, and ascend the Pangerango (9,500 ft.) at 4 a.m. to see the sun rise. From the top the view is magnificent.

Along a steep and difficult mountain path, the crater of the Gedeh may be reached in an hour and a half, and the sight of the gigantic crater of this majestic volcano is said to be overwhelming and ample compensation for the toilsome ascent. It is about two miles distant from the Pangerango, and forms the still active part of the twin volcano.

Between 1761 and 1832 no eruptions occurred, but seven took place in the twenty years following, the most terrible and severe being the eruption of 1840. There were again terrible eruptions in 1886 and 1899, when the volcano covered the hillsides with huge stones, one over 150 kilogrammes in weight landing three-quarters of a mile away.

There are several places in the Preanger Region where the visitor may elect to stay instead of Sindanglaya, such as Soekaboemi (2,100 ft.) which has the advantage of being on the railway, Bandoeng and Garoet.

All have their own attractions for invalids, and the hotel accommodation is spoken of in terms of the highest praise by all who have been there.