On a fine September morning, of the same year in which the other events of our story took place, Santjoemeh was once again in a state of commotion. And no wonder. For that day had been fixed upon for the marriage of Lim Ho. Of Lim Ho, the son of the opium farmer, the son of the millionaire Lim Yang Bing, with Ngow Ming Nio, the prettiest Chinese girl of Santjoemeh, the prettiest perhaps in all Dutch India. She was the only daughter of old Ngow Ming Than, a speculator who had dealt in every possible thing out of which money could be made, and who was honoured, esteemed and sought after for the sake of the millions he had scraped together. Money everywhere exercises a certain power of attraction; not otherwise was it at Santjoemeh, and the union of two such [445]enormous capitals was certain, therefore, to awaken general interest. Moreover, a Chinese wedding of this kind was a very rare occurrence, and the reports of the magnificence which the house of Lim Yang Bing would display on the occasion, were so extravagant that they bordered on the miraculous, and opened to the imagination visions like those of the Arabian Nights.
All Santjoemeh—taking these words in the same sense as “tout Paris” on similar occasions—had been scheming and intriguing to obtain an invitation; and many a pleasant smile had been lavished on babah Ong Sing Kok, or on babah Than Soe?, the purveyors of Mesdames Zoetbrouw and Greenhoed, ladies who, in the ordinary way, did not waste their blandishments on Chinamen, because it was thought that these gentlemen had a pretty large acquaintance among the staff of servants on Lim Yang Bing’s establishment, and that through them the much coveted card of invitation might be procured.
There were some who were wicked enough to whisper, that a certain nonna had promised one of Lim Ho’s cousins to give him a kiss if he would procure her parents a ticket for admission. The wicked went on to say, that this Chinaman, a shrewd fellow—like most of his race—had refused to undertake the negotiation, unless he received payment on account; an instalment which was not to count on the day of final settlement. That these negotiations had been very much protracted owing to the many difficulties which would constantly arise; that, on every such check in the proceedings, progress had to be reported to the young lady, and that our artful young Celestial had made every fresh effort on his part depend upon the payment of another instalment on hers. If all this were true, then the poor nonna must have paid pretty dearly for her ticket—in kisses. That, however, is the story of the wicked, it is not ours. On that September morning then, Santjoemeh was in a fever of excitement and expectation. If here and there perhaps Lim Ho’s ugly adventure with baboe Dalima had not been forgotten, the remembrance of that outrage did not damp the general enthusiasm, or keep any one at home. Those who were troubled with a somewhat tender conscience, laid the flattering unction to their soul that, as there had been no prosecution, probably the whole story was false, or that, at the worst, no great harm had been done. Others there were who fully believed the truth of the reports which had been spread abroad; and who actually envied Lim Ho his “bonne fortune.” That Dalima [446]was such a pretty girl! Oh, no! there was no one who would deny himself the expected pleasure on that account. It was very much the other way.
The evening before the eventful day, Santjoemeh had had something like a foretaste of the coming joy. For, on that evening, a procession had started to the Chinese temple. Now, marriage has, in the celestial empire, no necessary connection whatever with any religious observances; yet, on the present occasion, it had been thought well to propitiate the goddess Má Tsów P?, the guardian and protecting deity of candidates for matrimony and of newly married people. Accordingly, on the eve of the wedding, a procession had been formed in front of the bride’s house. First came a numerous band of native musicians who, on their brass instruments accompanied by a drum of monstrous size, performed a selection of waltzes, polkas, mazurkas and redowas. In spite of the horrible dissonance of their execution, these lively tunes would have set even Johann Strauss a jigging could he but have heard them. Then followed a corps of Chinese artists whose grating one-stringed fiddles, clashing cymbals and discordant screeching wind-instruments, alternated with the former band; and produced a mixed medley of hideous sounds, which literally set one’s teeth on edge, and put all but the most inveterate sightseers to instant flight. At the head of the procession and in its rear, marched six torch-bearers, while eight paper lanterns were born aloft on red poles on either side. These shed a soft coloured light and, by their fantastic shapes, imparted a thoroughly Chinese air to the scene. But the nucleus, and most important part of the pageant, consisted of twelve boys who walked two and two, and were called ‘lo jen see’ (barefeet). They were dressed in short nankin gowns reaching only to the knee, under which appeared the bare legs and feet, and on their heads they wore tall conical caps, trimmed with red fringe. Each of these youths held in his hand the pa-lee, or hollow metal ring containing little bits of iron, from which hung small copper bells. With these, the bearers made a gentle rattling sound as they marched along.
When the temple was reached, the boys grouped themselves around the image of Má Tsów P?, a deity represented as standing on the clouds and wearing a crown in token of her dignity of Queen of Heaven. Then, to a kind of measure, they began to mumble and chaunt their prayers and incantations, shaking their ring the while incessantly. This went on for about [447]the space of an hour, and then the procession reformed and marched homeward with a far greater crowd at its heels than had accompanied its setting out.
The next day, however, was the great day.
Very early in the morning carriages began to rattle through the streets of Santjoemeh, to fetch the landowners, officials, and other distinguished guests, who lived in the country round about. On the stroke of ten the élite of the Residence had assembled in the vast inner-gallery of Lim Yang Bing’s mansion. The gentlemen were all in full-dress, in uniform, or in black evening dress; the ladies wore ball toilettes; and at the entrance a number of Chinese boys were stationed to hand to each of their fair guests a bouquet of lovely pink roses. As one by one the principal guests drove up, crackers were let off, varying in number according to the social position of the individual who presented himself. If two or more happened to enter together, bunches of crackers were exploded in exact proportion to the number of visitors; and sometimes these fireworks exploded with a din that was almost deafening.
At length Mr. van Gulpendam and his fair spouse made their appearance. They were received and escorted into the house by Chinese officers with the most punctilious ceremony. At his entrance, two copper serpents were exploded, and there were flatterers among the company who declared to Laurentia and to Lim Yang Bing, that, compared to the din these terrible serpents made, an eruption of Krakatoea was but child’s play.
The object of this infernal noise was two-fold. It was useful on the one hand to frighten away the evil spirits who might be lurking about the premises, and, on the other, it served as an expression of joy and as an evidence of cordial welcome to the visitors.
As soon as the Resident had arrived, a long line of the intimate friends and acquaintances of the bridegroom, accompanied by the inevitable band and by the barefeet who had officiated on the previous evening, started off to fetch the bride from the house of her parents. Meanwhile, the major and the captain of the Chinese did the honours of the feast, while the lieutenants of that nation acted as masters of the ceremonies. Nothing could be more courteous than the manner in which these gentlemen acquitted themselves of their onerous duties. They attended to every want, they offered refreshments; and soon the popping of champagne corks [448]indoors began to mingle with the incessant banging of the fireworks without; and generous wine, iced in huge silver bowls, was foaming and sparkling in the crystal glasses. For the ladies, there was an ample supply of hippocras, Golden water, Chartreuse and other liqueurs.
Lim Yang Bing had offered his arm to fair Laurentia, and the pair walked leisurely up and down that stately saloon, which, under ordinary circumstances, might be called magnificent, but had now been specially decorated with the utmost skill and taste. The woodwork, the pillars, the beams and architraves of the apartment were all curiously carved and heavily gilt, and represented either hideous dragon-forms, or else scenes of domestic life in China. The walls were tinted a delicate rose-colour, and the floor, of pure Carrara marble, was covered with matting woven of the finest split rottan. At the end of this splendid saloon stood the altar of Tao Peng Kong gorgeously decorated, while wide strips of red silk, bearing black Chinese letters, hung on either side of the sanctuary.
“Tell me, babah,” asked the Resident’s wife, “what may be the meaning of that scribble on those red rags?”
“They are proverbs, njonja, taken from Kong Foe Hi,” gallantly replied the Chinaman.
“Yes, but what do they mean?”
“That one, njonja, signifies: ‘May the five blessings abide in this house.’?”
“And the others?”
“They are the names of the five blessings.”
“Ah indeed!” continued Laurentia, “and what are those blessings?”
“A long life, peace and rest, love of virtue, wealth and a happy end as the crown of life.”
“And what do the letters on those lanterns signify? I say, babah, they are very fine!” said Laurentia pointing upward at the lanterns, depending from the ceiling and from the beams.
They were handsome hexagonal contrivances skilfully made, in the Chinese style, of wrought copper, and having large plates of pure polished crystal let into the sides.
“Yes, yes, njonja,” assented the babah with a complacent smile, “as you say they are very beautiful objects; but they cost a good deal of money. Now could you give a guess at the price of one of those copper lanterns?”
“Not I, babah! how could I? let me see—they may be worth some fifty guilders.” [449]
“Fifty guilders!” exclaimed the Chinaman with something like pity for her ignorance. “Oh, njonja, how could you have made such a bad shot. Why! I thought you prized the masterpieces of our Chinese art somewhat more highly than that!”
“Well!” said the crafty woman, “and what, pray, may be the value of the things?”
“Every lantern, njonja, you see hanging there, has cost me in Canton, three hundred and fifty guilders, without reckoning carriage and duty.”
“Oh, never mind that!” laughed Laurentia, “I daresay you managed to smuggle them across.”
“No, njonja, by Kong, no! I can show you the receipt from the custom-house. Will the njonja—”
“No, babah, don’t trouble yourself, I take your word for it. But what may they have cost you altogether?”
“Close upon four hundred guilders a piece, njonja.”
“There are about thirty of them I should think,” said Laurentia.
“Only five and twenty, njonja.”
“Only! Only five and twenty!” said Mrs. van Gulpendam smiling. “It is pretty well, I should say—ten thousand guilders worth of lanterns!”
Lim Yang Bing’s face glowed with satisfaction. Like most parvenus he took an intense delight in letting every one know what he had paid for the precious objects he exhibited.
“And look, njonja,” he continued, “pray look at those tigers.”
With these words the opium-farmer pointed to a pair of red marble tigers. The figures were life-size and were represented crouching on two black marble pedestals at the foot of the two pillars one on each side of the altar.
“Yes, babah, I admire them much—they are very fine indeed! They must have cost a pretty penny I should think?”
“Each one of those figures represents five thousand guilders, njonja.”
“But babah!” cried Laurentia.
“You see, njonja,” said the babah sententiously, “when one gives a wedding party of this kind, one ought to do it well. Have you noticed that cock over the altar yonder?”
“I see it, babah, I see it, how exquisitely it is carved.”
“It is cut out of a single block of peachwood,” said the Chinaman, “that little thing alone has cost me twelve hundred guilders.” [450]
“I say, babah! you must be a rich man,” remarked Laurentia.
“So, so,” replied the Chinaman inordinately proud in his assumed modesty. “Do you happen to know what the wedding breakfast and this evening’s banquet will cost me?”
“No, I don’t—do tell me, babah!”
“Well, I will—they will stand me in very nearly fifteen thousand guilders.”
“Why, babah! you must be a very rich man,” said Laurentia in a wheedling voice.
“Oh, not very,” whined the Chinaman. “But you don’t know how much I give my son as my wedding gift.”
“You mean to Lim Ho, the bridegroom? No, I cannot guess—do tell me, babah?”
“Two millions!” he whispered, fairly beside himself with delight.
“Two million guilders!” exclaimed Laurentia, feigning the utmost surprise. “Why, babah, you must have a mint of money!”
“No, njonja, not overmuch!”
“And all of it out of your opium contract, eh?”
The Chinaman looked at his fair companion, he gave her a very strange look; that word opium had completely sobered him.
“And you have only had the contract for three years, I think, babah?” continued Laurentia.
Lim Yang Bing nodded assent. In his heart he was beginning to curse his boasting and vapouring.
“Have you seen the Resident lately?” asked Laurentia carelessly, but determined to strike while the iron was hot.
“No, njonja,” replied the Chinaman politely, but with none of his former gush.
“I know he wishes to speak to you about the contract—it runs out I think with the current year?”
“Yes, njonja.”
“And I think the monopoly for the next three years will be granted some time this month?”
“Yes, njonja.”
“Do you intend to bid for it, babah?”
“I think so, njonja.”
“Yes, njonja! no, njonja! I think so, njonja!” cried Laurentia mimicking the poor Chinaman most comically, “But, hush, someone is listening—What do you say is the meaning of those words on the lanterns, babah?” [451]
The last question she asked in her ordinary tone of voice, with that light-hearted giggle which was peculiar to the handsome woman.
“Those letters mean: ‘We pray for happiness and prosperity.’?”
“Thank you, and on that one yonder?”
“The word on that one signifies: ‘Lantern of Heaven?’?”
Thus talking they had walked away out of ear-shot.
“Now,” resumed Laurentia in a subdued voice, “now we can go on with our conversation:
“You seem to be very lukewarm about that monopoly business, babah. I fear you will have a competitor at the auction.”
“Who is he?” asked Lim Yang Bing somewhat eagerly.
“I have heard the name of Kwee Sioen Liem mentioned, the Solo man; you know!”
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