The Concepts of Space and Time in the Southeast Asian Archipelago

Denys Lombard

The Concepts of Space and Time in the Southeast Asian Archipelago

Denys Lombard

Our concepts of space and time are highly useful in our daily lives and are,moreover, ingrained in our history. Hence it seems almost impossible for us to understand any phenomenon in our own culture or any other without fi rst defining it by placing and dating it, thereby relating it to other phenomena while at the same time endowing it with its own unique characteristics. This way of thinking goes back far into the past.

The Greeks already had the idea of progression - and history - as well as an autonomous notion of space that was sufficiently developed to allow for both geometry and geography. Subsequently Christianity made an important contribution towards consolidating our idea of linear time by giving a meaning to the life of the individual (through re fl ecting on its fi nality) and by tracing the collective adventure of the human race from a starting point at the creation of the world to a conclusion at the Last Judgment. Since the sixteenth century,scienti fi c thought and the ideology of progress have not challenged the primacy of either concept, and while some of Einstein’s ideas clearly called them into question, it is obvious that these ideas have been swept along with the encroaching tide of modernity.

We well know – as research has shown – that our Western societies have not always held such de fi nite opinions on this subject. For a long time there were quite complex views about an after-life, whether in space or time.Where did souls go after death? Whereabouts in space could purgatory be situated? The world was only mapped through a long process of trial and error.Pilgrimages were contemporaneous with voyages of exploration and discovery.Europe too has known the millenarian upheavals that can be seen today in certain countries in the throes of decolonization. Not so long ago in the privacy of our homes makeshift shamans used Ouija boards in their attempts to communicate with the dead, and we know that astrology and numerology still fl ourish at the very heart of the most developed urban societies. At this point one could simply accept that different conceptual systems can overlap or exist in juxtaposition, but in general we prefer to consider these concepts as‘residual’ aberrations. In contrast with them, our pure concepts of space and time seem all the more precious and indispensable.

There is some interest in trying to look at another way of perceiving things,in a region of the world whose history has been very different. The Southeast Asian Archipelago lies at the crossroads of the great Asian cultures of India,Islam and China, yet it has retained a strong Austronesian identity. Contact with the West was established there with the arrival of the first Portuguese(Afonso de Albuquerque captured Malacca in 1511), but the real confrontation with Western ways of thinking began much later, with the organization of the‘Netherlands Indies’ in the nineteenth century, the development of the fi rst religious missions (which had been forbidden by the Dutch Company before that date) and the establishment of the first schools. We are not concerned here with the details of this confrontation, which was rendered even more intense by the achievement of independence (in 1949 for Indonesia, 1957 for Malaysia) and exposure to a much more diversified ‘Western’ culture. Our main concerns are on the one hand with the fi rst signs of an Islamic ‘modernity’,which can be discerned fairly clearly from the 15thcentury in the societies of the great sultanates of the port cities, and on the other hand with the retention of a much more archaic concept in the agrarian societies in the interior, notably in Java, in which the notions of space and time still seem to converge.

First of all a few words on the great economic and social changes that affected the Archipelago as well as the rest of Southeast Asia, during the centuries that preceded the arrival of the first Portuguese. No doubt these changes followed in the wake of major transformations that took place in the international exchange networks-disruption of the route through Central Asia that had been so important under the Tang dynasty, and the gradual establishment of the Mongol system. This era saw an unprecedented development of the maritime route linking the China Sea to the Indian Ocean, the abandonment of the great agrarian cities of the interior (Pagan, Angkor, Majapahit) and the fl ourishing of a new generation of cities situated on the coast (Malacca, Aceh, Banten) or on a river close to the sea (Pegu, Ayutthaya).［1］This radical change in urban cartography was accompanied by a progressive increase in the use of monetary systems (the import of Chinese copper cash, then the minting of gold or tin coins in situ) and of course important social changes: traditional hierarchies began to be challenged and new clienteles were established (together with a new dependency based on debt.)

This phenomenon took place over at least three centuries – from the 13th to the 16th century. It was accompanied by a radical change in ideologies.Hinduism, often associated with Mahayana Buddhism, had inspired the great monuments in the most ancient cities in Cambodia and Java (and as we know,retained its hold in Bali). Now these two ideologies were gradually replaced by two new religions: Theravada Buddhism in most of the countries of Indochina(Burma, Siam, Cambodia and Laos) and Islam in the Southeast Asian Archipelago.

Comparative research has hardly touched this area, but it is striking to note certain parallels between the latter two ideologies, which are so different in other ways. Firstly, in both cases they place importance on the chronological and the topographical, for example giving an eminent role to great historical figures such as Muhammad and Siddhartha, and paramount importance to making pilgrimage to the sources of the belief, whether this be journeying on the one hand to Mecca and Medina, or on the other hand to the holy places in Northern India where the Buddha lived during the major stages in his life.Another significant fact is that in both cases the idea of the person is givengreater emphasis. The individual is encouraged to feel responsible and to behave in a moral way in expectation of the judgment which will decide his fate in the afterlife.

The progress made by Islam was particularly marked in the trading sultanates in the west of the archipelago (Malacca, Aceh, Johore, Banten,Demak and Makassar), and inspired a wealth of literature, basically in Malay(written in the Arabic script) but also in Javanese, Bugis and Makassarese.Fairly often these texts were influenced by Arab or Persian models. These could be considered an excellent corpus through which to study the changes in mentality at this time, and especially the emergence of a new concept of time and space.

Precise terms can be found in these texts, borrowed from Arabic, to express‘time’(waktu),‘the era’(zaman),‘the century’(abad) and ‘the hour’(jam). However the most striking novelty is the widespread use of the Muslim calendar. In the epigraphic texts of ancient Java, the year was lunar-solar and,as in India and Cambodia. was calculated as part of an era, called shaka, which began in 78 CE.［2］From the introduction of Islam, in the coastal sultanates the year consisted of 12 synodical months, each 29 days long, counted from the Hijra. This implies adherence to a widespread reckoning system and an effort to establish a relationship between all the events that took place in the Islamic community (ummah). Moreover, henceforth the rhythm of the day was marked by the succession of the fi ve prescribed prayers (subuh, lohor, asar, maghrib and isya), which served as a means of ordering the day’s activities. In addition,while minarets were rare in the Archipelago, the bedug, large drums made of buffalo hide, would sound out the hours that were important to the community,somewhat like our church bells.

It has been pointed out quite correctly that this lunar calendar which had been introduced by traders is better adapted to the needs of city dwellers than to peasants, who need above all to take note of seasonal changes, in the equator as in more temperate climates. On the other hand the new system had positive, almost modern, aspects. Introducing the unchanging regularity of the rhythm of the months (as well as that of the seven-day week) established the fundamental principle that time is coherent and neutral. Reference to thealmanacs (primbon) still in use in Java (and Bali) will show that pre-Islamic time was, on the contrary, fragmentary and heterogeneous, consisting essentially of positive and negative moments and days that were lucky or unlucky. Their nature could only be identified by a difficult process of calculation. It was much more important to establish the quality of the moment, its‘density’, than to calculate the shortness or length of a period of time, as the success of an enterprise depended entirely on that quality.

In order to evaluate the quality of a given moment, you would need for example to take into account the specific tonality of each of the 30 wuku,or combinations of seven days each, which together constituted a cycle.［2］Alternatively, taking account of the fact that no fewer than six weeks existed,all of different lengths (seven, three, fi ve, six, eight or nine days), one would need to carefully study the complex interplay arising when days of different cycles coincided. Hence, for example, when kliwon, the most important day in the fi ve-day week, fell at the same time as kajeng (a day in the three-day week),it was necessary to make offerings to malevolent spirits; but if kliwon fell at the same time as sanescara (a strong day in the seven-day week) – which happened every 35 days – these circumstances were considered particularly auspicious.

In comparison, the Muslim calendar is extremely simple. It levels all the disparities and, except for Fridays (as well as a small number of major festivals such as the anniversary of the Prophet’s birthday) it imposes a regular system of calculating time where man can take the real initiative. This change is even more radical than the Christian system where each day has its ‘saint’, which to some extent re fl ects its heterogeneous origins.

The new calendar not only established a homogeneous system for calculating time. In addition, by identifying a beginning and an end to the world, Islamic ideology gave meaning to history. This gave rise to the idea of time moving on, oriented towards a goal, which is found elsewhere in other prophetic religions. There is a strong message about the fleeting nature of material things and the importance of the Last Judgment in a short Muslim moral tract that probably originated in one of the ports on the north coast of Java in the 16th century:

Nоthing is еtеrnаl in this wоrld (ora kekel ing dunya). Ве аwаrе thаt оn thеJudgmеnt Dау (ari kiyamat) оnlу а rаrе fеw fаithful оnеs will bе rесоgnizеd аmоng thе truе Мuslims.［4］

A similar idea appeared at the beginning of the 17th century in an important tract of political philosophy, The Kings’ Crown (Tāj us-salatin) written in Malay in Aceh or Johore:

Маn is а trаvеlеr (musаfir) whо must раss thrоugh sеvеrаl stаgеs – his fаthеr’s lоins, his mоthеr’s brеаst, thеn а third stаgе in this lоwеr wоrld, thеn thе grаvе, thеn thе Judgmеnt Plаin, аnd fi nаllу hеаvеn оr hеll, whеrе hе will rеmаin fоrеvеr.Thе wау ореn tо him is lоng аnd dif fi сult, аnd hе саn оnlу fi nd рrоvisiоns оn this еаrth. Onсе lаunсhеd, thе сhаriоt оf his lifе (kendaraan umurnya) rоl(xiāng)ls оn withоut stоррing, аnd withоut his bеing аwаrе оf it. Eасh timе hе brеаthеs is оnе mоrе stер аlоng thе wау, еасh mоnth аnоthеr lеаguе, еасh уеаr furthеr still.［5］Probably there is no better illustration of this linear view of time in existence. However in his very fi ne ‘Poem on the Ship’ (Syair Perahu), written in Malay in North Sumatra towards the end of the 16th century,［6］Hamzah Fansuri compares life in this world to making a sea crossing:

Аh, уоung mаn, knоw уоur truе sеlf!

This shiр rерrеsеnts уоur bоdу.

Yоur timе оn this еаrth will bе fl ееting;

Yоu will оnlу knоw реасе оn thе оthеr sidе…

Thеrе is nо Gоd but Аllаh, аnd уоu аrе fоl(xiāng)lоwing him.

Thе wind is rоаring, thе sеаs аrе tеmреstuоus,

Whаlеs аnd shаrks аrе рursuing уоu...

Маkе surе уоu hоl(xiāng)d tight tо thе tillеr, dоn’t fаltеr!

Ιf уоu саn аlwауs bе vigilаnt

Аll thеsе tеmреsts will diе dоwn.

Thеrе will bе саlm аftеr thе stоrm,

Yоu will lаnd sаfеlу оn thе islаnd…

A new concept of the past and a new historiography were developing that were closely related to this new concept of human progress. In particular, there was a marked increase in the number of silsilah, or genealogies, that link up thegenerations in long chains, giving a marvelous visual representation of the idea of linear continuity. The importance of lineage in the Archipelago is certainly much more ancient, but Islam played an important role here by privileging paternal descent. Moreover, following this same model Islam introduced the idea of a ‘spiritual chain’ through the tarekat (brotherhood) linking the current sheikh to the founding sheikh (and the founding sheikh to the Prophet).

In addition, in certain sultanates (Makassar, Bima and the island of Sumbawa) court scribes began to maintain ‘daily diaries’ where they kept note of the sovereign’s main activities, ships departing or embassies arriving.It is true that this practice does not seem to have been very widespread. The other sultanates generally preferred ‘chronicles’ that were more or less romanticized, where history was often interwoven with mythology in a complex fabric that sometimes drives historians to despair.［7］

A glorious exception to this rule is the Sultans’ Garden (Bustan us-salatin),an ambitious survey of human knowledge in seven volumes written in 1638 in Aceh in Malay. The author, Nuruddin ar-Raniri, a Gujarati, sets out to relate the history of the world from its creation, particularly focusing on Islamic achievements from the time of Muhammad to the Sultanates of the Archipelago.

Parallel to this developing sense of time, the concept of space also became more precise. Here we will not concern ourselves with the effects of new inventions that were certainly instrumental in changing man’s relationship with the world. These would, for example, include the role of fi rearms, which were well-known in Southeast Asia before the arrival of the Portuguese,especially the ‘giant’ cannon that various sultans had manufactured in the 16th and 17th centuries. They were used not so much for firing heavier cannonballs at their adversaries as to sound the alarm, or to announce their demands to the farthermost corners of the land.［8］They would also include the first mechanical objects, such as toys or automatons inspired by distant Alexandrian models that are described in Malay texts, or skilful models of animals portrayed in the fi rst European accounts,［9］which show the desire to imitate nature and by this means control it.

Rather, this study is more concerned with the slow but basic move awayfrom cosmological to geographical space, or in other words a move away from the mandala to the map. At the margins of the very simplified diagram (a centre and four cardinal directions) that continued to provide the sedentary with a reassuring explanation of the macrocosm, helping them to harmonize their lives in relationship to that concept, gradually topographical contours were beginning to emerge that certainly gave a less stylized picture of a totality,but instead showed one better adapted to the traveller’s needs.

Our information on this subject is still very fragmentary. There seems to be no doubt that the geographical map was in use in the Archipelago before the Portuguese arrived. Unfortunately we have no original examples of this cartography. However we do have a report from Ludovico de Varthema,who states that he traveled from Borneo to Java in 1505 on a native vessel whose pilot had a compass and a map ‘where a good many lines were drawn to indicate the winds, in the same way as the maps we use ourselves.’［10］Admittedly one cannot always rely on Varthema. Nevertheless, we also have Albuquerque’s detailed account of a superb Javanese map that he had translated and copied by his pilot, Francisco Rodrigues. The original was lost in 1511 with the rest of the treasure that had been seized in Malacca, when the ship taking it back to Portugal was wrecked.［11］

In 1876, moreover, in the little village of Ciela south of Garut in West Java,a Dutch civil servant named Karel Frederik Holle discovered a very interesting map of the region on fabric that possibly dated from 1560. This precious document has since then disappeared, leaving only the account that Holle published at that time. What is all the more remarkable is that it was not a maritime map, but gave a particularly rich toponymy of the whole centre of the Sunda district.［12］

This new sense of geography is also well-illustrated in several Malay literary texts. In the East Javanese Panji stories from the 15th and 16th centuries we can already see a vogue for adventure and travellers’ tales, but the hero, who is setting out to search for his beloved Candrakirana, is still part of a fi ctional universe ruled by magic.

However the 17th-century Malay novel that features the hero Hang Tuah is based in a very realistic world.［13］The task which the Sultan of Malacca gives tohis admiral Hang Tuah is to carry out a whole series of diplomatic and military operations in places that mostly have well-known place names from which a reader referring to a map can trace out a certain political horizon. For example,relations with the neighbouring trading ports on the east coast of the Malay Peninsula (Trengganu and Indrapura) are rather tense, and Malacca has to resort to force. On the other hand, relations with Palembang (in Sumatra) and the islands in the Straits (Bintan, Lingga, Singapore) are cordial and always peaceful. Further to the east there are two powers that have to be reckoned with: Brunei (on the north coast of Borneo) and especially Java, where Hang Tuah is sent several times, and which seems to be the most dangerous rival.Beyond the Archipelago properly speaking, contacts are maintained with the distant powers. Embassies are sent to China and Siam, Vijayanagar, South India, Mecca and as far as Egypt and Rum (Constantinople), where the Admiral goes to ask the Great Lord for cannon. The author endeavours to give each of the countries visited its special character by adding a little ‘local colour.’ In Siam there is a humorous touch in descriptions of the swashbuckling Japanese guards, who saunter about ‘with their sabres trailing along the ground’; while in Negapatam the author is concerned about the ‘outspoken’ traders whose arrogance is second to none.

Another text that is roughly contemporaneous with the Hang Tuah novel conveys a similar impression. It tells of the conquest of the world by King Iskandar, the propagator of Islam.［14］Of course this is the Malay version of the Novel of Iskandar, which follows the hero from one end of the inhabited world to the other, introducing a host of details about distant lands to the Malay readers,who had hitherto known nothing about them. Notable examples are Andalusia;Sicily, home of a terrible volcano whose crater is one of Hell’s gates; the great desert in Africa, land of giraffes and ostriches; the land of cotton (between Antioch and Aleppo); the gardens of Kashmir; the copper mines of Central Asia; the forays of Gog and Magog, nomadic peoples against whom Iskandar has a great wall built; China, with its musk. Returning to Egypt, in the end the hero establishes Kandariah, a vast city with numerous palaces honeycombed with underground passageways, a bronze fortress and a high tower (al-Manar),equipped with mirrors to keep watch on the ships passing by along the coast.

Of course this is a fi ctional itinerary and in no way geographically accurate,but what is important here is its interest in the global. The conqueror wishes to go from the ‘land where the sun sets’ to the ‘land where it rises’; and once he reaches the eastern limits of the world he decides to venture into the ocean in order to visit the anti-world (or the world upside down, dunia balik), which is symmetrical with our world. To do this he orders the construction of a sort of bathyscaphe, a great ‘glass container’ (peti kaca) suspended by a cable, in which he has himself lowered into the ocean. Iskandar’s curiosity and his drive to confront the unknown purely for the joy of discovery are reminiscent of some 16thcentury European heroes.

Putting aside all these changes that were informed, if not inspired, by Islam, we now turn to the pre-Islamic system as witnesses saw it in ancient Java and as it still survives in the agrarian societies of the interior, as well as in Bali.

Here, the fundamental principle is fairly simple, even if we often have some dif fi culty in understanding all the implications. This principle postulates that all concepts and all perception can and must belong to one of four distinct poles, or more precisely five, as the centre is a privileged place where the elements from the four domains on the periphery must be able to converge and become harmonized. According to this principle, then, each of these fi ve points-the centre and the four cardinal directions of North, South, East and West-is associated not only with a deity but also with a basic colour, a metal, a liquid, an animal, a series of letters and one day from the fi ve-day week. Properly speaking it is not space but the totality of Being that is divided up according to a gigantic system linking and harmonizing these five categories (or nine, as sometimes there is the further complication of intermediate directions). To understand this system, a Westerner might think of the language of fl owers, the symbolism of precious stones or Rimbaud’s ‘Sonnet des voyelles.’

A whole technical literature on this subject developed, beginning in the 11thcentury with the Sang Hyang Kamah?y?nikan, followed by the Koraw?srama (16thcentury?) and the Manikmaya (18thcentury) and continues to flourish today, giving rise to the many primbon (almanacs) that continue to appear. Basically this literature is intended to provide the keys to these‘correspondences’ so that the world can be deciphered or ‘read.’ In fact the same word, baca, is used in Javanese for ‘interpreting’ a phenomenon and‘reading’ a book.

Rather than launch into a host of variations, we shall only consider a few elementary examples here. In general the colour white, silver and coconut milk correspond with the East; the colour red, copper and blood correspond with the South; the colour yellow, gold and honey correspond with the West; the colour black, iron and indigo correspond with the North; and fi nally the centre, which represents the synthesis of the four directions and embodies all their qualities,is linked with blended colour, bronze (which is an alloy) and boiling water(wédang). The days of pancawara, the five-day week, are similarly divided up according to the cardinal directions, with kliwon at the centre (which is generally held to be the most important day). This seems to suggest that time is not seen as an autonomous category, but simply divided up like the other elements according to the quintuple system:［15］

Fig. 1 : Illustration of the various af fi liations among directions, colours and week days

This study is not the place for a more detailed consideration of the history of this system. Nevertheless it posits some fascinating problems and has inevitably inspired some interesting comparisons.［16］Louis-Charles Damais has clearly shown that this identi fi cation of fi ve cardinal directions with the fi ve basic colours was in no way in fl uenced by Indian or Chinese symbolic systems,but originated purely from Nusantara.［17］Some scholars have gone further than this in suggesting that the classi fi cation must date back to a period when Javanese society was divided into four complementary clans, and it is certainly possible to see parallels with other societies in the region. Others again have gone still further, for example in relating it to the cruciform schema, recalling the words of Saint Jerome: Ipsa species crucis quid est nisi forma quadrata mundi?(Can this crucifix form represent anything else than the four corners of the world?) Similarly, Saint Irenaeus stated that the four gospels corresponded to the four cardinal points.［18］

The matter in question here concerns the implications of such a classi fi cation on a conceptual level. Since we are accustomed to our own idea of a historical, linear time, it requires effort to imagine a ‘time’ that is motionless and con fi ned within things. From that perspective, society does not seem to be progressing along a certain path, leaving its past behind. Instead, it grows on itself, driving its past out to the periphery somewhat like onion skin. The dead become ‘spirits’ (yang) and go off into the neighbouring forests where they continue to take part in community life. While the coming of Islam puts an end to this wandering, the spirits still continue to intercede on behalf of the living who come to their tombs to appeal to them.

Perhaps the essential point is that the future is contained in the present.People have to learn to interpret the ‘signs’ (pralambang) that can reveal it. There is a very important literature of ‘predictions’ (ramalan) on this subject.［19］Of course these predictions can only be verified after the event,but it is Westerners who feel the need to be skeptical, because their linear view inhibits them, preventing them from interpreting such predictions properly.An interesting study could be undertaken of the ‘logic’ that is peculiar to this science of deciphering, which is based on etymological interpretation(keratabasa) – because words are part of the profound nature of the things thatthey represent – and on numerological calculation (petungan) because numbers too are within things, and reveal their essence.

There is a strange little booklet published in 1965 under the title ‘The meaning of the sacred numbers’ that might give some idea of this way of thinking.［20］The author sets out to explain the ‘underlying significance’ of the date 17 August 1945 (17-8-45), which was the date when Sukarno declared the independence of Indonesia. First of all one must calculate a number by multiplying 17 by 8 and then by 45. This gives a number of days (6,120), which corresponds more or less to 17 years. The author then endeavours to build a scale of numbers (periodization) based on the number 17, starting from the‘sacred year’ which is 1945. Going backwards in time, this gives 1928 (the year of the Youth Oath) and 1911 (the year of the founding of the Sarekat Islam,an important Islamic movement). Going forwards, 1962 (the year when the Netherlands ceded Western New Guinea) would lead on to 1979, the year when Indonesia would once again become a ‘maritime power’, and finally 1996,when a socialist regime would be established.

The author’s speculations in the area of cartography are even more remarkable than these manipulations of chronology. Here the links between the notions of space and time are still apparent. The author compares Krakatoa (the famous volcano in the middle of the Sunda Strait) and the islands of Sumatra and Java to the axis and two hands of an enormous clock, and states that these two hands point exactly to 10.28 a.m., the moment (in Java time) when Sukarno read the declaration of independence. In another example of this type of speculation, he draws an oblique line on a map of Indonesia, passing through the centre of Kalimantan and cutting through the equator at an angle of 17° (still keeping 17 August in mind), and observes that this line goes ‘exactly’ from Sabang to Merauke, that is to say from one end of Indonesia to the other. There is no better illustration of the link between time and matter.

Fig 2: Аrсhiреlаgiс sрасе аs а сlосk оf nаtiоnаl histоrу (аftеr В. Sеtiаdidjаjа, Arti Angkaangka Keramat bagi Bangsa Indonesia dan Dunia Baru, Ваndung 1965, р. 78)

This is a very simpli fi ed exposé. It does, however, show that two radically different systems of space and time coexist in the Southeast Asian region. One of these is very close to our own, and can easily coincide with that system,although its origins are in no way the same. The other system is completely foreign to our way of thinking, but far from being merely ‘residual,’ is part of a very strong tradition that shows no sign of disappearing. In an era where there is much talk of the progress of ‘development’ (and the Westernization that often accompanies that development), it is worth remembering these two points.

■NOTES

[1] For the rise of these new merchant towns see Denys Lombard, “Pour une histoire des villes du Sud-Est asiatique,”Annales économies, Sociétés, Civilisations No.4 (1970): pp. 842-856.

[2] Indianists are still divided on the exact nature of the event that put its mark on the year 78CE. In Java there seems to be no memory of such a moment in history, and the beginning of the Shaka era has traditionally been associated with the arrival in Java of a mythical person, Aji Saka, who enriched the culture notably by introducing writing to the island. For a study of the dating system used in the epigraphical texts of ancient Java, see Johannes G. de Casparis, Indonesian Chronology (Leiden & Cologne: Brill, 1978).

[3] See Louis-Charles Damais, “Le Calendrier de l’ancienne Java” ,Journal asiatique, CCLV(1967): pp.133-41; also Miguel Covarrubias, Island of Bali (New York: A.A. Knopf, 1965.Originally published 1937), p.282ff.

[4] The Javanese text was translated and published by Gerardus Willebrordus Johannes Drewes, An Early Javanese Code of Muslim Ethics (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1978).Quoted from pp.14-15.

[5] One of the many manuscripts of The Kings’ Crown was published by Khalid Hussain, Bukhair Al-Jauhari: Taj us-Salatin (Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1966). A French translation of a different manuscript appeared in the 19thcentury: Aristide Marre, Mak?ta radja-radja ou La Couronne des rois (Paris: Maisonneuve,1878).

[6] For Hamzah Fansuri, see J. Doorenbos, De Geschriften van Hamzah Pansoeri (Leiden:Batteljee & Terpstra, 1933) and the more recent study by Syed Muhammad Naguib Al-Attas, The Mysticism of Hamzah Fansur? (Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya Press, 1970).For an Italian translation of the Poem on the Ship (Syair Perahu), see Alessandro Bausani, Le Letterature del Sud-Est Asiatico (Milan: Accademia, 1970), pp. 317-321.

[7] In Archipel, 20, 1980, the section ‘De la philologie à l’histoire’ focuses entirely on the problems of ‘reading’ posed by the Malay manuscripts. This is notably the case in the study by Lode F. Brakel, ‘Dichtung und Wahrheit, Some Notes on the Development of the Study of Indonesian Historiography’, pp. 35-44.

[8] For example Augustin de Beaulieu, who went to Aceh in 1619, remarked: ‘Every morning and evening the King has cannon fired as the castle gates opened, and if any neighbouring king decided to do the same thing, he would make war on him, saying that he had invented this custom, and wished to keep it for himself alone, to bear witness to his might.’(Melchisédech Thévenot, ed., Collections de voyages, vol.2 (Paris: 1666), p. 119).

[9] For example Edmund Scott, a factor in the English post at Banten, gives a long account of the great pageant organized in June-July 1605 on the occasion of the circumcision of the young prince. He describes the animals, arti fi cial as well as living, that were part of the procession:‘beasts and foules, both alive and also so arti fi cially made that except one has been neere, they were not to be discerned from those that were alive…’(Sir William Foster (ed.), The Voyage of Sir Henry Middleton to the Moluccas, 1604-1606 (London: Hakluyt Society, 1943), pp. 152-162.

[10] The text is quoted by Frederik Caspar Wieder in the article ‘Kaartbeschrijving’ (Cartography)in D.G. Stibbe (ed.) Encyclopaedie van Nederlandsch-Indi?, 2nd ed. (’s Gravenhage & Leiden:Martinus Nijhoff & Brill, 1919), vol.2.

[11] See Armando Cortes?o, ed., The Suma Oriental of Tomé Pires and the Book of Francisco Rodrigues, vol.1 (London: Hakluyt Society, 1944), Introduction, pp. lxxviii-ix.

[12] Karel Frederik Holle, “De Kaart van Tji?la of Timbangenten” ,Tijdschrift van het Bataviaasch Genootschap, XXIV (1877): pp.168-76, with separate facsimile. Several Bugis maps have also been preserved, but they seem much more recent.

[13] The Hikayat Hang Tuah was translated into German by Hans Overbeck Die Geschichte von Hang Tuah, 2 vols. (Munich: Georg Müller, 1922), and more recently into Russian by Boris Parnikel, Povesti o Hang Tuahe (Moscow: Nauka, 1984).

[14] There is not yet a satisfactory edition of the Hikayat Iskandar Zulkarnain; nor has it been translated. The fi rst part (372pp., up to the conquest of Egypt) was published by Khalid Hussain in Latin script (Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1967). The most useful work is still the study by P. J.van Leeuwen, De Maleische Alexander-roman (Meppel:Ten Brink, 1937), which comprises fairly long extracts.

[15] Another sign that gives further evidence of this linking of time with the general system of correspondences is the use of candrasangkala, or ‘chronograms’, which is still highly regarded in Java. The procedure consists of noting the year of an event not with numbers but with words to which numerical values have been attributed. However these words still retain their original meaning, which allows for an allusion to the dated fact at the same time. It is also noteworthy that the three Indonesian words empat (four), tempat (place) and sempat (occasion, time of an action) are all etymologically linked and originate from the same root, pat.

[16] Note particularly Patrick Edward de Josselin de Jong (ed.), Structural Anthropology in the Netherlands (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1977), which republished a number of articles on the classi fi cations systems in English translation, notably Frederik Daniel Eduard van Ossenbruggen, “Java’s Monca-pat: Origins of a Primitive Classi fi cation System” , pp. 32-60; and Théodore G.Th. Pigeaud, “Javanese Divination and Classi fi cation”, pp. 64-82.

[17] Louis-Charles Damais, “Etude javanaise III: à propos des couleurs symboliques despoints cardinaux,” Bulletin de l’Ecole fran?aise de l’Extrême-Orient, LVI (1969): pp.75-118.

[18] Van Ossenbruggen, “Java’s Monca-pat,” p. 58, refers to Salomon Reinach, Orpheus, histoire générale des religions (Paris: A. Picard, 1909), p. 320.

[19] Many of these predictions are attributed to King Joyoboyo (12thc.) but they are in fact much more recent. In the 20thc. there has been an increase in these predictions during the most troubled times: 1945-49, the period of the so-called ‘Physical’ Revolution, and 1965-7,the upheavals following the events of September and October 1965. The predictions give the impression of being an attempt to reassure people by showing that all these changes were in the nature of things, and conformed to prophecies.

[20] B. Setiadidjaja, Arti Angka-angka Keramat bagi Bangsa Indonesia dan Dunia Baru (Bandung:Balebat, 1965).

Al-Attas, Syed Muhammad Naguib. The Mysticism of Hamzah Fansur?. Kuala Lumpur, Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1970.

Bausani, Alessandro. Le Letterature del Sud-Est Asiatico. Milan: Accademia,1970.

Brakel, Lode F. “Dichtung und Wahrheit, Some Notes on the Development of the Study of Indonesian Historiography.” Archipel 20 (1980): 35-44.

Casparis, Johannes G. de. Indonesian Chronology. Leiden & Cologne, Brill,1978.

Cortes?o, Armando (ed.). The Suma Oriental of Tomé Pires and the Book of Francisco Rodrigues. 2 vols. London: Hakluyt Society, 1944.

Covarrubias, Miguel. Island of Bali. New York: A.A. Knopf, 1965 (Orig.publ. 1937).

Damais, Louis-Charles. “Le Calendrier de l’ancienne Java.” Journal asiatique CCLV (1967): 133-41.

Damais, Louis-Charles. “Etude javanaise III: à propos des couleurs symboliques des points cardinaux.” Bulletin de l’Ecole fran?aise de l’Extrême-Orient LVI (1969): 75-118.

Doorenbos, J. De Geschriften van Hamzah Pansoeri. Leiden: Batteljee &Terpstra, 1933.

Drewes, Gerardus Willebrordus Johannes. An Early Javanese Code of Muslim Ethics. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1978.

Foster, William (ed.). The Voyage of Sir Henry Middleton to the Moluccas,1604-1606. London: Hakluyt Society, 1943.

Holle, Karel Frederik. “De Kaart van Tji?la of Timbangenten.” Tijdschrift van het Bataviaasch Genootschap XXIV (1877):168-76.

Khalid Hussain (ed.). Bukhair Al-Jauhari: Taj us-Salatin. Kuala Lumpur:Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1966.

Khalid Hussain. Hikayat Iskandar Zulkarnain. Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1967.

Josselin de Jong, Patrick Edward de (ed.). Structural Anthropology in the Netherlands. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1977.

Leeuwen, J.van. De Maleische Alexander-roman. Meppel: Ten Brink,1937.

Lombard, Denys.“Pour une histoire des villes du Sud-Est asiatique.”Annales. économies, Sociétés, Civilisations No.4 (1970): 842-56.

Lombard, Denys.“Les concepts d’espace et de temps dans l’archipel insulindien.” Annales. économies, Sociétés, Civilisations No. 6 (1986): 1385-1396.

Marre, Aristide. Mak?ta radja-radja ou La Couronne des rois. Paris:Maisonneuve, 1878.

Ossenbruggen, Frederik Daniel Eduard van. “Java’s Monca-pat: Origins of a Primitive Classi fi cation System.” In Structural Anthropology in the Netherlands,edited by Patrick Edward de Josselin de Jong, pp. 32-60. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1977.

Overbeck , Hans. Die Geschichte von Hang Tuah. 2 vols. Munich: Georg Müller, 1922.

Parnikel, Boris. Povesti o Hang Tuahe. Moscow: Nauka, 1984.

Pigeaud, Théodore G. Th. “Javanese Divination and Classification.” In Structural Anthropology in the Netherlands, edited by Patrick Edward de Josselin de Jong, pp. 64-82. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1977.

Reinach, Salomon. Orpheus, histoire générale des religions. Paris: A. Picard,1909.

Setiadidjaja, B. Arti Angka-angka Keramat bagi Bangsa Indonesia dan Dunia Baru. Bandung: Balebat, 1965.

Thévenot, Melchisedech (ed.). Collections de voyages. Paris: 1666.

Wieder, Frederik Caspar. “Kaartbeschrijving.” In the Encyclopaedie van Nederlandsch-Indi?, 2ndedited by D.G. Stibbe. Vol. 2. ’s Gravenhage & Leiden:Martinus Nijhoff & Brill, 1919.