An enumeration of the writer’s regalia often forms an important part of a letter
from one Malay sovereign to another, more especially when the writer wishes to
emphasise his importance.^27
But the extraordinary strength of the Malay belief in the supernatural powers of
the regalia of their sovereigns can only be thoroughly realised after a study of
their romances, in which their kings are credited with all the attributes of inferior
gods, whose birth, as indeed every subsequent act of their after life, is attended
by the most amazing prodigies.
They are usually invulnerable, and are gifted with miraculous powers, such as
that of transforming themselves, and of returning to (or recalling others to) life;
in fact they have, in every way, less of the man about them and more of the god.
Thus it is that the following description of the dress of an old-time Raja falls
easily into line with what would otherwise appear the objectless jargon which
still constitutes the preamble of many a Malay prince’s letters, but which can yet
be hardly regarded as mere rhetoric, since it has a deep meaning for those who
read it:—
“He wore the trousers called bĕraduwanggi, miraculously made without letting
in pieces; hundreds of mirrors encircled his waist, thousands encircled his legs,
they were sprinkled all about his body, and larger ones followed the seams.”
Then his waistband (kain ikat pinggang) was of “flowered cloth, twenty-five
cubits in length, or thirty if the fringe be included; thrice a day did it change its
colours—in the morning transparent as dew, at mid-day of the colour of
lembayong,^28 and in the evening of the hue of oil.”
Next came his coat. It was “of reddish purple velvet, thrice brilliant the lustre of
its surface, seven times powerful the strength of the dye; the dyer after making it
sailed the world for three years, but the dye still clung to the palms of his hands.”
His dagger was “a straight blade of one piece which spontaneously screwed
itself into the haft. The grooves, called rĕtak mayat,^29 started from the base of
the blade, the damask called pamur janji appeared half-way up, and the damask
called lam jilallah at the point; the damask alif was there parallel with the edge,
and where the damasking ended the steel was white. No ordinary metal was the
steel, it was what was over after making the bolt of God’s Ka’abah (at Meccah).