[1]To Mejuffrouw Zeehandelaar.
[1]To Mejuffrouw Zeehandelaar.
May 26th, 1902.[1]
I have read your last letter over many times; in it you write so sympathetically about the Javanese people. It is very pleasant that you should have such friendly thoughts towards the brown race. If I could only have you here with us there are so many things about my people which I should be glad to show you. Where can one study and learn to understand a people better than in the heart of that people? and here we have a true Javanese environment. You know that all of you would be welcome at any time.
It is charming of you to wish to have me with you, but alas! for the present I may only appreciate your good will. To travel alone to Buitenzorg belongs just now to the realm of forbidden fruit. But who knows when a change may come! So much that seems to us today to be absolutely impossible, appears tomorrow as an accomplished fact. The Javanese are a nation filled with memories and fairy tales, in dreams and fairy tales the most wonderful things happen, and my heart which is Javanese through and through, holds fast to the illusion that there can still be miracles, even as there were in the far distant past.
If you knew of the dreams of some Javanese girls that you know, possibly you might be surprised at them, think them strange, but you would not, I hope, merely shrug your shoulders in pity. You know, do you not, that we are possessed by the idea of going to your country? But you do not know why. What one naturally thinks when one speaks of visiting strange lands, is of seeing and understanding new things, enjoying oneself, and perhaps also of learning accomplishments.
But when we feel so much for the suffering of our people, is it strange then that there should be in us a great longing to do something that will help them? What has that to do with our desire to go to your country? We wish to gather knowledge and bring back to our people the treasures of other lands, of your own country first of all. We do not wish to change the spirit of the native Javanese, but to cultivate the good which is latent in them. That is the goal which we have set before our eyes.
It is such a pity that we live so far from each other. How nice it would be if we could exchange thoughts and ideas. Things can be expressed so much better in spoken than in written words. But our correspondence is very pleasant to me, we meet at so many points. How gladly I should teach you to know and understand my people. A wonder artist must rise up in Java to tell of our race in beautiful words to his fellow countrymen. Just as Fielding has written of the Burmanese. Now we have only that notorious book by Veth[2]that has brought so many pens into motion, and caused a storm of anger to break forth.
Every land has its own individual faults. India just as well as every other country on this round earth. Poor India, in foreign lands one knows so bitterly little of you, and a book like that of Veth will certainly not gain you sympathy.
Augusta de Wit[3]writes with understanding, and in beautiful language about India. We always read her articles in theGidswith much pleasure.
In everything that concerns nature and art, and in "dreams," Borel is delightful. On other subjects he has less good to say, he goes hand in hand with his friend Veth. Have you read what Borel has written about the gamelan? We think it a little jewel. And did you see the article by Martine Tonnet about the Wajang Orang at the court of Djokarta? That too is a jewel. I wish that Borel would go there, he might feel inspired to break into charming poetry. The dance[4]of the Princes of Solo and Djokarta must be magnificent. It is the dance of dances it is said. It is a pity that we cannot go to Djokarta. We have often been invited, but it would be so wearisome to dress in court costume, and at court every one must be dressed (like a bride).
Do you know that fairy story by Marie Marx-Koning? We think it very fine. It seems to me that she must be a great admirer of Van Eeden. "t'Viooltje dat weten wilde," reminds me of "De Kleine Johannes." Do you not like that too? It is so true in thought, and in style it is charming.
I read what you wrote of your little protégé with great interest, and also what you said of the poor in Holland. I hear much of the misery of the poor there when winter comes. Poor, poor simple creatures! I correspond with a Frieslander; she tells me about conditions in Holland, especially in Friesland. In the winter time she has often sat down on the ground beside poor people who lived in little hovels of straw. The middle of winter, no work, nothing to eat, no fire, no clothes, no warm covering, and crying children. It is bitterly hard.
[1]Mevrouw de Booij-Boissevain.
[1]Mevrouw de Booij-Boissevain.
[2]"Java; Geographisch, Ethnologisch, Historisch," 3 vols. Haraam 1875-80, by Professor Veth of Leyden.
[2]"Java; Geographisch, Ethnologisch, Historisch," 3 vols. Haraam 1875-80, by Professor Veth of Leyden.
[3]"Facts and Fancies about Java," by Augusta de Wit.
[3]"Facts and Fancies about Java," by Augusta de Wit.
[4]For a description of the dance of the Princes at the court of Soerakarta, see "Un Séjour dans l'île de Java" by Jules LeClercq. Chap. 14, p. 169.
[4]For a description of the dance of the Princes at the court of Soerakarta, see "Un Séjour dans l'île de Java" by Jules LeClercq. Chap. 14, p. 169.
June 10, 1902.[1]
Dutch has always been my favourite study, and many people say that I am thoroughly at home in it. But heavens! fondness for a language is a very long way from knowledge of it. Next to languages I like geology. I also enjoy mathematics, but I am still struggling with the groundwork of history. Not that I do not like history; I think it is interesting and very instructive; but the manner in which it is set down in school-books has little charm for me. I should like to have a teacher who knew how to make the dry parts interesting. What I do think delightful, is ancient history; it is a pity that so little of it has come my way. I should love to study the history of the Egyptians, and of the old Greeks and Romans.
We do not wish to make of our pupils half Europeans or European Javanese. We want a free education, to make of the Javanese, above everything, a strong Javanese. One who will be blessed with love and enthusiasm for his own land and people, with a heart open to their good qualities and to their needs.[2]
[1]To Mevrouw Abendanon.
[1]To Mevrouw Abendanon.
[2]En somme Java est trop gouvernée. La remède est sous la main; "Instruire les indigènes non pas avec l'idée d'en faire des Européens, mais dans le but de les préparer à devenir les collaborateurs intimes de ceux-ci." A. Fabert.
[2]En somme Java est trop gouvernée. La remède est sous la main; "Instruire les indigènes non pas avec l'idée d'en faire des Européens, mais dans le but de les préparer à devenir les collaborateurs intimes de ceux-ci." A. Fabert.
June 17, 1902.[1]
I read in the paper that some Chinese girls had asked permission to stand the teachers' examinations. Hurrah for progress! I feel like shouting aloud in my joy. Of what good is the preservation of a few old traditions? We see now that the strongest and oldest traditions can be broken; and that gives me courage and hope. I should like to meet the gallant little Chinese girls; I should be so glad to know something of their thoughts and feelings, their "soul."
I have always longed to have a Chinese girl for a friend. I have often wondered about the inner life of such a girl. It must certainly be full of poetry.
At Semarang, a Chinese[2]millionaire has laid out a splendid garden. It lies on a hill and is so beautiful; there are rocks, grottos and tiny hills covered with green ferns. Masses of flowers and miniature fruit trees are interspersed with little parks and winding paths.
There is a lovely summer-house in the middle of the lake. The lake has many capes and twisted turns. And in it, goeromis and gold fish can be seen swimming around. On the shore, is a hill with a grotto, and a bath house. A winding stair runs through the grotto and comes out on top of the hill, where two miniature temples stand. Fruit trees and flowers of all kinds grow and bloom everywhere; it is fairy-land become reality, only the fairy kings and queens and the silver shining little elves do not come out of the chasms in the rocks to make the illusion complete. The whole idea is like a poem expressed in art. But where is the art that is not poetry? Everything that is good, that is high, that is holy, in a word everything that is beautiful in life is poetry!
We have seen the creator of this wonder place. A deadly dull, commonplace sjofele baba.[3]Images in plaster, human dragons, and tigers are scattered among the grass; these too are the creations of his fancy.
It is a pity that at the entrance of the walk that leads to the fairy lake, two figures of European workmanship have been placed; they destroy the harmony.
You have been to Batavia to see the exhibition?[4]Yes, to be sure, and what do you say now of the brown race? What of its art?
Oh I am so proud of my people, they are capable of so much, but you Hollanders must lead us. And you will do that will you not? We are like children, and you are our protectors, who must guide us and help us to be grown up men and women.
[1]To Mevrouw de Booij-Boissevain.
[1]To Mevrouw de Booij-Boissevain.
[2]In 1898, four years before this letter was written, there were 261.000 Chinese settlers in Java. Their constantly increasing number presents a problem to the Dutch Government. They are seldom day labourers but more frequently artisans, merchants or agriculturists and by their frugality and industry have attained a condition of general prosperity, in all competition easily outstripping the more indolent Javanese, and often accumulating large fortunes.
[2]In 1898, four years before this letter was written, there were 261.000 Chinese settlers in Java. Their constantly increasing number presents a problem to the Dutch Government. They are seldom day labourers but more frequently artisans, merchants or agriculturists and by their frugality and industry have attained a condition of general prosperity, in all competition easily outstripping the more indolent Javanese, and often accumulating large fortunes.
[3]Sjofele, ragged or dirty; baba, a Chinese coolie. Sjofele baba indicates a good-natured contempt.
[3]Sjofele, ragged or dirty; baba, a Chinese coolie. Sjofele baba indicates a good-natured contempt.
[4]Exposition of Javanese art held at Batavia in that year.
[4]Exposition of Javanese art held at Batavia in that year.
July 12, 1902.[1]
Father and Mother have both given us their full permission. We had expected storms, thunder-claps, and lightning flashes. I cannot yet fully realize it. I had hoped that Father would consent, but I had not dared to dream that Mamma would stand by him. We have never been estranged from one another but things are clearer now between Mamma and us, this has brought us nearer together. I felt calm at first, but when Mother spoke to us in such a quiet, gentle manner, my calmness vanished. I had so much in my mind that I had not thought over what I should say, but when it came to the point, the words fell as themselves from my lips. Who was it that placed the words ready in my mouth—Who?
There is a power higher and greater than all earthly powers put together. Good spirits were certainly hovering near putting the words in our mouths when we stood before her speaking for our ideals. Now I heard Mamma say, deeply moved, "Oh child, why have you not trusted me?" We have done wrong, not to have told Mamma everything. Poor, dearest mother, we are not worthy to kiss her feet.
I wish that I could tell you what Mamma has been to us all these long years, what she still is. Now we realize for the first time the debt that we owe to her. We owe her a world full of love and gratitude; we are so thankful that we are going away from Mamma in peace, in the service of that Good that she herself knows and understands. We no longer express our joy openly as formerly, as we did only a little while ago. We are quiet now, but full of silent gratitude.
I had prepared what I had to say to Father with the greatest anxiety. I do not know where I got the calmness and composure with which I spoke to him. My voice sounded strange to my own ears. I was unmoved, but when the permission for which I was pleading was granted, and I saw how much it cost my dear father, the ice-crust melted from my heart. I longed to throw my arms around him and speak words of comfort, but my knees trembled and my voice refused to do my bidding. I sat before him on the ground and looked at him with the mist before my eyes. I felt his pain and I suffered with him. O, some day I will repay for everything.
In my heart the prayer rose "Father, forgive me, O my Father, forgive your child, she cannot do otherwise."
It was on the twenty-first of June; I chose that day, your birth-day, for the difficult interview with Father. I wished to have you, my little Mother, with me in spirit. Good angels surrounded me, my Heavenly Father stood by me in my struggle against my earthly one. When I was alone once more and had gained my desire, there was no joy in my heart; there was only pity and sympathy for the sorrow of one whom I loved. My tears were for him. From the depth of my soul I prayed: "O grant that from this great sacrifice of my parents, flowers will spring up and fruit will grow for our land, and for our people."
On the same day, the twenty-first of June, we wrote to the Heer Van Kol at Batavia at his request. The letters contained our names, ages, and a summary of our ideas and wishes.
But we had to have our parents' permission, without that nothing could be done for us.
And now that this stumbling block is cleared from our way, we stand before a second—the financial one. Our parents cannot possibly afford the expense of our education; nor would we ask it of them. Yesterday I received a long and very earnest letter from Mevrouw Van Kol. If I did not need to keep it until it was answered, and if my unaccustomed fingers did not cling to it so, I should like to send it to you, but I shall try to tell you something of its contents. She has given us more than moral support, she has given us part of herself. We feel as though we had received a benediction. We are no longer afraid, we have no anxiety; we are at peace, we trust and we believe. Of what worth are we! We are no more than the dust of the ground. We feel no jubilant, boisterous happiness, but a still, quiet joy. O God, we are so thankful that we have found Thee, that we have come through doubt, unbelief and materialism.
We have thought much of late. We sought the Light afar off and all the time it was near; it has always been with us, it is in us.
Our souls have been working and growing, and we did not know it. Mevrouw Van Kol has drawn back the curtain from before our eyes; we are more grateful to her for that than for all the other things which have been done for us.
Before I received her letter, Mamma had said to me, "Who gave you such ideas?" and I answered "God gave them to me." It was only natural that Mother should try to hold us back, but when she saw that we would never change, that we could not change, she said to us with resignation, "Well, children, I shall try to think that you are called to do this; that God has sent you for this service."
Mevrouw Van Kol wrote us: "Often we need human beings and their support, but there are many more times, when it is only God that we need. He has called each one of us to do our special work, and he gives us strength and constancy. Believe me, this is what the voice of experience says. You stand now at the threshhold of life; at the beginning of your work; when you are in the midst of it, then you too will have had experience. It is only when we have had experience that we become free and strong, true helpers and friends of mankind, depending not upon them, but upon ourselves and upon our Father—God."
Unasked,East and Westhas sent us assurances of its support and co-operation. Mevrouw Van Kol sent us the paper with an account containing a description of the journey of Heer Stoll. And where the writer had spoken of us, the following had been interpolatedby East and West:
"We trust that Heer Van Kol, who has been a member of E & W since it was founded, will not have neglected to tell her that she can count to the fullest on our support in her noble struggle."
After she had seen this article, Mevrouw Van Kol, sent a few words toEast and Westabout us, so that we might be brought nearer to the heart of the Javanese loving public, which reads E & W.
She has asked permission to publish my entire letter in that paper. I do not like the idea, but it is in our own behalf, and she writes further: "How can the friendly public know what is in your heart and learn to appreciate your aspirations, better than from a candid letter, in which the young Javanese lays bare her soul to an older woman from whom she asks support and sympathy? There is not a word in that letter that the public ought not to see, and I know of no better introduction for you to the circle that has the welfare of Java and of the Javanese at heart. I can easily understand your scruples, but overcome them and say "Yes."
I have come to no decision in regard to this. I must first have Father's consent. Father wants me to keep everything secret at present; if the Government says yes, then the world can hear of it. It is very true that we should choose our way with all prudence, but experience has shown us lately that we gain more by publicity than by secrecy. Even if the Government should refuse our request, we should lose nothing. How many petitions are never reached!
Let me say now, to set you at ease, that we will always remain what we are, but we fervently hope with you, that it may be granted us to make our own form of religion admirable in the eyes of those who think differently.
We feel that the kernel of all religion is right living, and that all religion is good and beautiful. But, O ye peoples, what have ye not made of it?
Religion is designed as a blessing, it should form a bond between all the creatures of God, white or brown, of every station, sex and belief, for all are children of One Father, of one God. There is no God but the Almighty, say we Mohammedans, and with us all-believing monotheists, God is the master, the Creator of everything.
Children of one father and for that reason, brothers and sisters, who must all love one another, help and support one another. Ah, if this were but understood. But we are so harnessed down by form that we are sometimes driven against all religion; the followers of one dogma look down upon the followers of another, despise, hate and, sometimes, even persecute them; but enough of this for the present.
Is there a Dutch translation of Lessing's works, and of the life and writings of Pudita Ramabai? I was still going to school when I heard of this courageous Indian woman for the first time. I remember it still so well; I was very young, a child of ten or eleven, when, glowing with enthusiasm, I read of her in the paper. I trembled with excitement; not alone for the white woman is it possible to attain an independent position, the brown Indian too can make herself free. For days I thought of her, and I have never been able to forget her. See what one good brave example can do! It spreads its influence so far.
[1]To Mevrouw Ovink-Soer.
[1]To Mevrouw Ovink-Soer.
July 28, 1902.[1]
No cloud lasts for ever; neither is there such a thing as eternal sun-shine. From the darkest night the most beautiful morning is born and here I console myself. Human life is a true reflection of the life of nature.
What we must pray for day and night is strength. But the rain which makes the leaf and bud of one plant burst forth, beats another into the earth, where it rots.
[1]To Mevrouw Abendanon.
[1]To Mevrouw Abendanon.
August 15, 1902.[1]
Nellie's[2]enthusiastic article inEast and Westhas been copied in several papers here. One in theEchoalso contains an appeal from that paper asking the sympathy and co-operation of all women in India. TheEchoquoted, just as did Nellie, a few words from my letter, and asked our permission to publish it all—or a part of it. I think it would be better not to publish another letter; one is enough and that from Nellie throws full light upon the question. Hilda de Booj, the daughter of Heer Charles Boissevain, a director of theAlgemeen Handelsblad, asked if she could publish one of my letters about a Javanese wedding. She sent a copy of this letter home, and her brother advised me to publish it. Such personal letters will show the Netherlanders that the Javanese are in some respects their superiors, in many respects their equals and perhaps in many others their inferiors. So says Heer Boissevain.
I am busy now with an article forBelang en Recht; I hope they will find room for it. If not, I shall send it to some other paper or magazine. We are collecting Javanese fairy tales for Nellie and sister R. is making drawings for them. Oh, I hear so much wisdom and truth from the mouths of the people, and it is expressed in such sweet, melodious words. If I only had your language well under my thumb, I should like to translate the beautiful inspired music, so that it could be understood and appreciated. We are not so deep by nature that it will break any one's head to understand our wisdom. There is no word for selfishness in our language. Happy language where that word has never penetrated.
I wish that I could teach you my language, so that you could enjoy its beauties in their original freshness. The deeper I penetrate the soul of our people, the finer I think it. Among you wise men and poets are drawn usually from a certain station, and only the upper classes are educated. The great majority are—may I say it?—crude. There are some superior spirits among the lower classes; but the many, Stella? You know them better than I.
But go around with me into Kampong and Dessa; let us visit the small huts of the poor submerged tenth, let us listen to their speech, seek out their thoughts. They are an unschooled people always, but music comes welling from their lips; they are tender and discreet by nature, simple and modest. If I am ever with you I can tell you much of our gentle people; you must learn to know and love them as I do. There are so many poets and artists among them, and where a people has a feeling for poetry, the most beautiful thing in life, they cannot be lacking in the instincts of civilization.
Every thing that is high and fine in life is poetry; love, devotion, truth, belief, art, everything that elevates and ennobles. And poetry means so much to the Javanese people. The least, the very humblest Javanese, is a poet. And what do you think of the deep respect which children have for their parents? And of the touching piety of the living toward the dead? There is no joyful occasion where the dead are not called to our remembrance, and their blessing and the blessing of heaven invoked. In joy and in sorrow, we think of our dead always.
And the name of Mother—how holy that is! In hours of pain and doubt, the pale lips always murmur that name. It is Mother, and again Mother who is called upon, if we need help, if we need support. The honour of motherhood lies in this, in the calling of her name in deep, sorrowful hours. Why do we not call upon our father—why just our mother? Because we feel from childhood, instinctively that Mother, means a world of love and devotion.
Each object that falls out of our hands is picked up with the saying; "Oh, Allah, my child." Do I have to explain the meaning of that to you, what it shows?
Stella, I shall work earnestly at your language, so that some day I may be such a mistress of it that I can make all that is beautiful among our people clear and intelligible to the outside world. I want to study my own language hard as well. I want to teach our people to know that white race as I know it in its finer, nobler aspects. They must learn of your nobleness, of your greatness, so that they will honour and love you. I want to do so much that sometimes I wish that I had a double pair of hands. The will is great, but the strength is little. And I must not injure my health, that would be the most stupid thing that I could do. And yet I am often stupid, sometimes sitting and working till late at night and that is not good for me. I may defeat my own object if in the end it should do me harm and I could not overcome my bodily weakness, so I am doing my best to live soberly and sensibly.
[1]To Mejuffrouw Zeehandelaar.
[1]To Mejuffrouw Zeehandelaar.
[2]Mevrouw Nellie Van Kol.
[2]Mevrouw Nellie Van Kol.
August 15th, 1902.
Hurrah for our native Art and Industry! They are well started now on the road to a splendid future. I cannot tell you how pleased I am. We like to admire our own people and it is so easy to make us proud of them!
The future of our Javanese artists is assured.
Heer Zimmerman was in ecstasies over the work that he saw here by the despised brown race: Wood carving, the art of the gold smith, and textile weaving have reached a high degree of excellence. Our artists here have received a large order fromEast and Westfor St. Nicholas. We are delighted. Now the clever artist can bring out new ideas and express his poetic thoughts in graceful undulating lines and in ravishing, glowing, changing colours. Oh, it is splendid above everything else to seek the beautiful—a spark of God is everywhere, even when things outwardly appear most evil.
There was once a child who went to an old woman who asked her what she would like to have, for the little one had neither sweets, nor ornaments, nor clothes; but the child said "Oh Mother, give me a flower that opens in the heart."
How do you like that? You must see it in the original—the answer of the child sounds so sweet. There is a deep meaning in bloementaal.[2]
"Njoewoen sekar melati hingkang mekar hing poendjering ati." That is what one hears all the time. We are now busy writing down everything interesting that we hear from the mouths of the people. There is no word for poetry in our language. We say "bloementaal," and is it not well said.
We are learning songs. Not songs of rejoicing—have you ever heard one of that kind from a Javanese? The gamelan never rejoices, even at the most extravagant festivals, its tone is mournful. Perhaps that is well, life is mournful; not a song of rejoicing.
These pages have been written under the influence of sweet and sad singing. It is evening, windows and doors are open; the fragrant breath of the blooming tjempaka beyond our chamber comes to greet us with the cool breeze that rustles through its branches. I sat upon the floor, just as I do now at a long low table, at my left was sister Roekmini also writing. To the right of me was Annie Glazer, she too on the floor. Before me was a woman who read from a book of songs. They were very beautiful, and the pure, serene, sonorous tones seemed to carry our souls far away, nearer to the realm of the blessed. How I wish that you could be sitting there with us in that little circle. You would have felt with us and dreamed with us. Dreams! Life is not a dream. It is cold, sober reality, but even reality does not have to be ugly, unless we make it so.
It is not ugly—it is beautiful. We always have beauty within us. This is the reason that I wish that in education, emphasis were laid upon character forming, and first of all upon the cultivation of strength of will; it should be instilled into the child.
But I am wandering from my subject. This time I wanted to write to you about our people, and not about education.
There is an old woman here from whom I have gathered many flowers that spring from the heart. She has already given me much, and has still more to give, and I wish for more; always more. She is willing, but first I must earn her treasures, I must buy her flowers—why? Why must I pay?
Solemnly the words sounded from her lips; "Fast a day and a night, and pass that time awake and in solitude."
"Door nacht tot licht,[3]door storm tot rust,door strijd tot eerdoor leed tot lust."
sounds like a requiem in my ears.
The meaning behind the words of the old woman is: Fasting and waking are symbolical; "Through abstinence and meditation, we go toward the light." No light, where darkness has not gone before. Do you not think that a beautiful thought? Fasting is the overcoming of the material by the spirit; solitude is the school of meditation.
As a child I did everything mechanically without question, because others around me did the same thing; then a time came when my mind began to question, why do I do that, why is so and so? why—why——? It is endless.
I would not do things mechanically without knowing the reason. I would not learn any more lessons from the Koran, saying sentences in a strange language, whose meaning I did not understand and which probably my teachers themselves did not understand. "Tell me the meaning and I am willing to learn everything." I was wrong, the Book of Books is too holy to be comprehended by our poor intelligence.
We would not fast and do other things which seemed senseless to us. Every one was in despair; we were in despair, no one could explain the things which were incomprehensible to us. Our God was our conscience, our Hell and our Heaven too was our own conscience; if we did wrong our conscience punished us; if we did good, our conscience rewarded us.
The years came and went; we were called Mohammedans because we had inherited that faith, and we were Mohammedans in name, no more. God—Allah—was for us a name—a word—a sound without meaning.
Now we have found Him for whom unconsciously our souls had yearned during the long years. We had sought so far and so long, we did not know that it was near, that it was always with us, that it was in us.
It had been working in us unconsciously for a long time; but she who opened the door for which we had sought, was Nellie Van Kol. And who leads us now, and shows us the way toward Him? It is Mamma. We have been so stupid all our lives; we have had a whole mountain of treasure under our hands and we have not known it.
Foolish, headstrong, pedantic persons that we were, we reproach ourselves now for our own conceit and self sufficiency. We say to console ourselves: "It has pleased God to open your hearts at last, be thankful for that."
God alone understands the riddle of the world. It is He that brings together paths that were far asunder for the forming of new roads.
[1]To Dr. Abendanon.
[1]To Dr. Abendanon.
[2]Flower tongue.
[2]Flower tongue.
[3]Through night to light,Through storm to restThrough strife to peaceThrough sorrow into joy.
[3]
Through night to light,Through storm to restThrough strife to peaceThrough sorrow into joy.
August 17th, 1902.[1]
Good morning; here comes sister to prattle to you again. It is a splendid fresh morning, and I am sitting here in a cosy corner by the window where I have a view of the garden. Another time I shall try and describe all our surroundings to you. Our home, which is our doenia (little world) and our cloister. Now however, I shall continue my talk of yesterday. It is pathetic to see the joy of our elders over the return of the strayed sheep.
Out of pure joy, an old woman here sent us her collection of books, old Javanese manuscripts; many written in Arabic characters. We are going to study Arabic so that we can read, and write it.
You know perhaps that Javanese books are very rare, and hard to find because they are written with the hand. Only a few of them are printed. We are reading now a lovely poem in the flower-tongue. How I wish that you knew our language. I should be so glad if you could enjoy all our fine things in the original. Have you any desire to learn the Javanese language? It is difficult—certainly, but it is beautiful. It is a sentient language; often the words seem to be conscious, they express so much. We are astonished sometimes, own children as we are of the country, at the cleverness of our fellow countrymen. Things of which one could never imagine anything could be made, they express charmingly. Name something in the dark, give out a subject at random, and a simple Javanese will immediately make a rhyme that astonishes by its aptness and clearness. This facility belongs peculiarly to our Eastern people. It is a pity that when the precious gifts were meted out, your sisters should have been neglected. That is not fishing for a compliment, we mean it literally. As one can see, though one fairy gave us wit in step-motherly wise, another sister fairy has made reparation by endowing us richly with her gift of sensibility. I do not think so very much of her gift myself, and we have to take good care that this virtue does not degenerate into a vice. A certain amount of feeling is good; but you will soon see, if you have not seen already, that it is often hard for your sisters to keep themselves in the golden middle way. It is very difficult for one who naturally goes to extremes. Now that you know all my faults, here is a prayer: try to understand them. Help me to overcome them. Will you not do that? Your sisters know of things in themselves that are not good.
After having had days of rain, we went out one morning to see how our flower children were getting along. We were afraid that they would have suffered from the over-abundant rain, but we found our rose-bushes full of green buds. The days came and the days went; our roses were full of luxuriant leaves and of beautiful blossoms. Rain, rain, they needed it, before they could bear those splendid blossoms.
Rain—rain—the soul needs it in order to grow and to blossom.
Now we know that our tears of today serve only to nourish the seed, from which another, higher joy will bloom in the future.
Do not struggle, do not complain and curse sorrow when it comes to you. It is right for sorrow to exist in the world too; it has its mission. Bow your head submissively before suffering. It brings out the good that is in the heart. But the same fire which purines gold, turns wood into ashes.
Now I want to tell you how it was that we happened to get into touch with Nellie Van Kol. Perhaps you have already read something about it in the paper. One evening in the latter part of April, we had a visit from the Heer Van Kol. He was sent to us by a Dutch lady, who has much sympathy for the cause of your sisters. It was one of the most pleasant meetings of our whole lives. Already, long ago, he had won our esteem through what he has been to Java, and the Javanese. But the personal meeting secured for him a place in our love. It is delightful to meet superior people. It was a great occasion in our lives, when we met your dear parents, it was a turning point for us; it waked us up to reality. Before that we had only seemed to live, we had been asleep, always sleeping and dreaming. Now we are alive, fighting and struggling, hoping, despairing, suffering and rejoicing, weeping and laughing; that is life. We have climbed to the heights of joy, and we have descended into the depths of misery. I am happy just to be alive.
I have heard from your mother that you sympathize with our struggles and ideas; and you have told us so yourself. So it will certainly please you to know there are others who are interested in our cause; superior people like Heer Van Kol and his wife.
We told the Heer Van Kol everything. It was to hear about our plans that he had come, and he promised to support our endeavours with all his might; just as your father has promised to do. Are you not glad that the cause of your sisters has found a warm defender in Holland—in the council halls of the country? He will do everything that he can to help us. He asked us if we would not write to his wife; she would prove a true, faithful advisor. He spoke of his wife with such love and respect he called her his guide and his counsellor. It touched us to hear a man—and such a man—speak so of a woman. Would that there were more such men—who would see the highest in woman and honour her for it.
I did not let the grass grow under my feet; immediately after he had left, I wrote to his wife. Was it instinct—I wonder! for when I was writing to her I had no feeling at all that it was to an utter stranger, which was the fact. It had been the same way, when I was talking to her husband. As though she had been my mother, I blurted out without reserve, just what I felt. It was easy to be frank with her husband, for he was so modest, so friendly, met us so cordially, and was so fatherly towards us. I am glad that I followed the voice of my heart and wrote at once to Mevrouw Van Kol. We received a letter from her at once—and such a letter! We feel ourselves rich in her sympathy. God has given us as a gift, the heart of a true friend, and through that friend's heart, he has found us himself. If I could only tell you how happy we are.
"We will find the right human friends, when we cease to seek for support among men, but depend upon ourselves and upon our Father—God." We are deeply grateful to Nellie for that. Again she says: "The loveliest and best among us are but weak blundering creatures; nestle on your Father's heart, he will heal your wounds and dry your tears."
In the days since I have begun this letter something very unpleasant has happened. Before our acquaintance with Nellie, it would have plunged us into despair, but now it is different. We do not seek consolation from men—we hold fast to His hand, and then the darkness becomes light, and the storm wind a gentle breeze.
We are not afraid, we are never afraid, wherever we may be, there is a father that watches over us, who judges us with love. We are ready for anything. For there is no light where darkness does not go before—the dawn is born out of the night.
Now that we have found Him, our whole lives are changed, our work seems nobler, higher. What do you think of all this, Edie?
I know one thing for certain, that you are glad for your sisters. I have still other things to prattle about, and then I must let this letter go; otherwise it will grow stale, and it is too long already. Perhaps it seems very formidable to you. Honestly, tell me the truth? Candour must be the basis of our friendship. Do not be afraid to tell me something because it might give me pain, when you know that it would be wholesome for me.
From you we did not expect anything else, but that you would not allow the workmen under your orders to be beaten. We share to the fullest your ideas in the matter. I cannot bear to see any one struck; it hurts me so to see the beast in man, unfettered, hot tempered, the man made lower than the beast.
We cannot understand how men, and even women, can go to see an execution, it is worse than heartless. You know very well that unfortunate convicts are often beaten with rods; they are cruel people that willingly encourage the infliction of such punishment. It is bad in the Javanese, but still worse in the European, when he so debases himself. I have seen, a certainly not stupid, in fact a highly educated European, at a festival of the people, let first a child, and after that a woman, and a young girl, make the acquaintance of his stick in a most frightful manner, because the blunderers had not been deft enough in getting out of the great man's way. I ground my teeth together to keep from crying out aloud; each blow pierced me through the soul.
It is not the idea of pain that makes me abhor bodily punishment, but the deep humiliation that the victim must feel. And also the harm it does to the one who punishes. Physical punishment embitters, but never cures. That is our conviction.
As children of a ruler in a community where the idea is fast rooted that a Randen Mas or a Raden Adjeng is absolutely a being of a higher order, to whom a God-like reverence is due from the people, we have oftener than we would, been among scenes that made us tremble with exasperation. At such times we are struck dumb and stand still as death, we can neither speak nor smile, indignation and pity hold our mouths fast closed. An acquaintance of ours once said "We must do it well; how otherwise will our little handful be able to keep peace and order among thousands? Had they not been afraid of us, they would long ago have hunted us from the land, and driven us into the sea."
Obedience through fear; when will the time come when the God-like rule, which is called love, will penetrate millions and millions of hearts? One thousand nine hundred and two years ago the beautiful law of love was preached, but how many thousand years must pass before love will come into its own? Not only among the elect, but among the multitudes?
Your mother knows the whole history of our lives. Has she ever told you of our childhood years, when we lived under the despotic sway of older brothers and sisters? Among us it is a law, the younger ones must submit to the older in everything. That was not for sister Kartini; even in her early years, the desire for freedom had awakened. The result was that I was somewhat out of harmony with my older brothers and sisters, because I submitted to them only when I saw a reason in what they thought good. So I stood there a child of twelve years, alone against a hostile power. Bitter, bitter tears were wept by us as children.
Do you know who has always been our friend, our help and our support? Kartono. But most of the time he was not at home, he was at Semarang. Our friendship is quite old you see; it goes back to our earliest youth. My eldest sister married, my older brother went away, and then we began a new life. The watchword was "Freedom, equality and fraternity." We wished to be loved—not feared.
It is not a boast, but every one knows that our little ones would rather be with us than with the others. Love is the bond which binds us together. And how our little ones love us! They have taught us much. Those who embittered our childish years, were also our teachers, for they taught us to avoid being like themselves. Another proof that sorrow justifies its existence.
Those who formerly opposed us, now come to us with love and friendship. They do not tell us so in words, but deeds bear witness. In every letter, our sister asks us to come and visit her. Our presence does good, both to her and to her house, she says always.
God is great, God is powerful! Could not that bit of our life history, become the life history of two peoples, of the Hollanders and of the Javanese? Would it not be possible for nothing but mutual love and respect to bind the Netherlands and Java together? How this happy state of affairs has come about in our own family, I do not know; I protest, I do not know. Many times the question has been asked us, but we only know that we have much love in our hearts and that is the whole secret I believe.
Now, best Brother, I hope sincerely that this long discourse will not frighten you away from a further correspondence with your sisters. And that you will take it as a proof of our good intentions, when we say that we look upon you as our brother and our friend. We hope that many letters from Sawah Loento with Japara as destination will be forthcoming. Tell us about everything—your work—your life and your environment.
It is a pity that photography is such a luxury, for we should be glad to take some peeps, for the benefit of our friends, into typical Javanese customs. We, as children of the country, can go everywhere here with a freedom that would not be allowed to you.