That friendly tones could e’er deceive!
That kindness, and forbearance long,
Might meet ingratitude and wrong!
I could not help but kindly view
The world that I was passing through.
And though I’ve learned some souls are base,
I would not, therefore, hate the race;
I still would bless my fellow men,
And trust them, though deceived again.
God help me still to kindly view
The world that I am passing through!
Through weary conflicts I have passed,
And struggled into rest at last;
Such rest as comes when the rack has broke
A joint, or nerve, at ev’ry stroke.
But the wish survives to kindly view
The world that I am passing through.
From all that fate has brought to me
I strive to learn humility;
And trust in Him who rules above,
Whose universal law is love.
Thus only can I kindly view
The world that I am passing through.
When I approach the setting sun,
And feel my journey nearly done,
May earth be veiled in genial light,
And her last smile to me seem bright!
Help me, till then, to kindly view
The world that I am passing through!
And all who tempt a trusting heart
From faith and hope to drift apart,
May they themselves be spared the pain
Of losing power to trust again!
God help us all to kindly view
The world that we are passing through!
JAN AND ZAIDA.
FOUNDED ON CIRCUMSTANCES WHICH ACTUALLY OCCURRED AT GRÉSIK, ISLAND OF
JAVA, IN 1854.
Our life is turned
Out of her course, wherever man is made
An offering or a sacrifice; a tool
Or implement; a passive thing, employed
As a brute mean, without acknowledgment
Of common right or interest in the end;
Used or abused, as selfishness may prompt.
WORDSWORTH.
A native of the island of Celebes, who had been captured by
slave-traders, was sold to Mr. Philip Van der Hooft, of Surabaya, in the
north-eastern part of Java. A Hindoo slave was given to the captive for
a wife; and she died, leaving a son two years old. This child Mr. Van
der Hooft gave to his sister Maria, a girl of fifteen, who had taken a
great fancy to him when he was a babe. She was amused at the idea of
receiving little Jan among her birthday presents, but he pleased her,
perhaps, as much as any of them; not as an article of property, but as a
pretty plaything. He was, in fact, a child of singular beauty. His
features were small, his limbs finely formed, and his large, dark,
Hindoo eyes, even at that age, were tender and almost sad in expression.
His sense of sound was exceedingly acute. Maria was musical; and the
moment he heard her piano, or guitar, he would drop his playthings and
run into the parlour. There, he would creep under the table, to be out
of the way, and sit listening, with all his soul shining through the
varying expression of his countenance. Sometimes he was so excited that
he would quiver all over, and end by clapping his hands with a loud crow
of delight; but more frequently he was moved to tears. Being a general
favourite, and the especial pet of his young mistress, he was seldom
ejected from the parlour, when he chose to wander there. When Maria was
busy at her embroidery frame, if she raised her eyes, she would often
see his little dark head peeping in, watching for her to take notice of
him; and as soon as she said, “Ah, here comes my little brownie!” he
would run to her with a jump and a bound, and stand gazing at the bright
colours she was weaving into her work. If she was singing or playing
when he entered, she would give him a nod and a smile; and not
unfrequently she seated him in her lap, and allowed him to play on the
piano. His fingers were too short to reach an octave, but he would touch
thirds continually; smiling, and laughing, and wriggling all over with
delight. Sometimes she amused herself by touching the first and seventh
note of the gamut together, and then he would cringe, as if she had put
her finger in his eye.
He was but three years old when his mistress married Lambert Van der
Veen, and removed with him to a country-seat near the neighbouring city
of Grésik. Little Jan did not thoroughly like that gentleman, because he
was often sent out of the parlour when he came; and Maria was so
engrossed with her lover, that she sometimes forgot to nod and smile
when “little brownie” peeped into the room. He was very exclusive in his
affections. He wanted to have those he loved all to himself. Therefore,
though the young man spoke kindly to him, and often gave him
sugar-plums, a shadow always passed over his expressive face, when,
running eagerly at the sound of the piano, he looked into the parlour
and saw his rival there.
But after Maria was married, he became, if possible, more of a petted
plaything than ever; for her husband was engaged in commercial pursuits,
which often took him far from home, and their house, being two miles
from the city, was more quiet than her father’s place of residence had
been. She occupied many of her lonely hours in teaching Jan various
infantile accomplishments, and especially in developing his remarkable
powers of imitation. The birds greatly attracted his attention; and in a
few months he could mock them so perfectly, that they mistook his voice
for their own. He soon did the same with the buzz and whirr of every
insect, and laughed to hear how all the little creatures answered him.
Nature had made him almost as sensitive to colours, as to sounds; and
whenever his mistress went into the garden, he would run after her to
beg for a flower. She liked the sound of his little padding feet, and
often smiled to watch his pliant motions and graceful form, clothed only
with a large party-coloured bamboo hat, and a girdle of broad fringe
about his loins. When the master was at home, he was obliged to find his
entertainment more among the slaves. They generally liked to sing or
whistle to him, and would laugh merrily at his eager attempts to
imitate. But some, who had children of their own, envied the high favour
he enjoyed, and consequently bore no good will toward him. They did not
dare to strike him, but they devised many ways of making him
uncomfortable. Decidedly, he liked the parlour better than the slaves’
quarters. He preferred it in the first place, because he was more
attended to there; and in the next place, because he could hear so many
pleasant sounds, and see so many pretty things. He liked the cool straw
carpet, and the pale green walls. The big china jars were an object of
perpetual delight. He was never weary of putting his little fingers on
the brilliant flowers and butterflies, with which they were plentifully
adorned. But what excited his wonder more than any thing else, was a
folding screen of oriental workmanship, which separated the parlour
from the dining-room; for there were gilded pagodas, Chinese mandarins
with peacock’s feathers in their caps, and two birds-of-paradise, as
large as life; a great deal larger, in fact, than the mandarins or the
pagodas. Then it was so pleasant to peep out into the garden, through
the vine-embowered lattice-work of the verandah; to see the blooming
roses, and the small fountain’s silvery veil; to inhale the fragrance of
the orange blossoms, and listen to the cool trickling of the tiny water
drops. All this was in reality his; for he knew not that he was a little
slave; and it is the privilege of unconscious childhood to own
whatsoever it delights in. In this point of view, it all belonged to
little Jan more truly than it did to Mr. Van der Veen. No wonder he
sighed when the master returned, since it condemned him, for a time, to
a degree of exile from his paradise. Perhaps there was some slight
jealousy on the other side, also; for though the gentleman was always
kind to his wife’s favourite, he sometimes hinted at the danger of
spoiling him, and the intercourse between them was never very familiar.
At first, little Jan was afraid to approach the parlour at all, when he
was at home. But on one occasion, when his stay was unusually prolonged,
his patience became exhausted waiting for his departure. He began by
peeping in slyly through the folding screen. Seeing himself observed, he
ran away; but soon came again and peeped, and receiving a smile from his
mistress, he came in timidly, and offering his master a geranium
blossom, said, “_May_ little Jan stay?” Maria immediately said, “Oh yes,
let him stay: he is so happy here.” But there was no occasion to plead
his cause; for there was no resisting his pretty looks and his graceful
offering. Mr. Van der Veen patted his head, and he crept under the table
to listen to the piano. After that, he never avoided his master, though
he still continued to come in timidly, and if not encouraged by a smile,
would run off to bring a flower as an admission-fee.
When he was about four years old, a more dangerous rival than a husband
appeared. Maria had an infant son, which of course greatly engrossed her
attention, and little Jan eyed it as a petted kitten does a new lap-dog.
His face assumed an exceedingly grieved expression, the first time he
saw her caressing the babe. He did not cry aloud, for he was a very
gentle child; but he silently crept away under the table with the
flowers he had brought in for his mistress; and as he sat there, in a
very disconsolate attitude, tears dropped on the blossoms. Some of the
servants made the matter much worse, by saying, in his hearing, “Now
missis has a young one of her own, she won’t make such a fool of that
little monkey.” His heart swelled very much; and he ran with all haste
to ask Madame Van der Veen if she loved little Jan. When he entered the
parlour the fond mother happened to be showing her son to visitors; and
as she turned, she held him toward the petted slave, saying, “Look at
him, Janniken! Isn’t he a little beauty?” “No,” replied he, louder than
any one had ever heard him speak; “_ugly_ baby!” and he gave his rival a
thrust with his little fist. He was of course sent away in disgrace; and
the slave-mothers, seeing him in trouble, greeted him with the
exclamation, “Ha, ha, little whistler! I thought _your_ nose would be
put out of joint.”
A clergyman of the Reformed Dutch Church, who witnessed this
manifestation of hostility toward the baby, adduced it as a proof of the
inherent depravity of the human heart. But time showed that the
depravity was not very deep. Jan felt the bitter pang of being
superseded where he loved, but he had a disposition too kindly to retain
ill-will. His heart soon adopted the infant, and they became friends and
playmates. When little Lambert grew old enough to toddle about, it was
the prettiest of all imaginable sights to see them together among the
vine-leaves that crept through the green lattice-work of the verandah.
The blue-eyed baby, plump and fair, draped in white muslin, formed a
beautiful contrast to his brown companion. They looked like two cupids
at play; one in marble, the other in bronze. But though they were almost
inseparable companions, and extremely fond of each other, it came to
pass through a process of painful weaning, on the part of little Jan.
Many a time he “sighed among his playthings,” when he saw Maria
caressing her babe, without noticing that he was in the room. Many a
time tears fell on his neglected offering of flowers.
He was, however, far more fortunate than most slaves who happen to be
petted playthings in their childhood; for he only passed out of an
atmosphere of love into an atmosphere of considerate kindness. His quick
ear for all variations of sound continued to be a great source of
gratification to himself and his indulgent mistress. His voice was
small, like himself, but it had a bird-like sweetness; and its very
imperfections, resulting as they did from weakness and inexperience,
imparted an infantine charm to his performances, like the lisping of
childish prattle, or the broken utterance of a foreigner. When he could
sing two or three simple melodies, Madame Van der Veen gave him a little
guitar, and taught him to accompany his voice. The population of Java is
an assemblage of various nations; and as he listened intently to
whatever he heard hummed, whistled, or played, in the parlour or in the
slave-quarters, he knew snatches of a great variety of tunes when he was
six years old. It was his pleasure to twine Hindoo, Arab, Javanese,
English, and Dutch melodies into improvised fantasias, which resembled
grotesque drawings, representing birds and monkeys, flowers, fruit, and
human faces, bound together in a graceful tangle of vines. At eight
years old, he was often trusted to go to Grésik on errands. Following
his usual habits of listening and observing, during these visits to the
city he added greatly to his stock of popular airs, and soon learned to
imitate all manner of instruments, as he had formerly imitated the
birds. Hindoo lullabies, Arab dances, the boat-songs of the Javanese, as
they passed up and down the river, English marches, Dutch drinking
songs, and Chinese jingle-jangles, he could give a lively version of
them all; and he was frequently called into the parlour to repeat them
for the entertainment of company.
His master said it was time he was taught to labour. Maria assented, but
made an arrangement by which duty and inclination were enabled to go
hand in hand. She knew that his acutely sensuous nature reveled in
perfumes and bright colours; therefore she told the Dutch gardener to
take him for an assistant, and teach him all the mysteries of his art.
It is never a toilsome employment to rear flowers and train vines; and
in that sunny, fertile region of the earth, light labour is repaid by a
lavish tribute of fragrant blossoms and delicious fruit all the year
round. Jan had an instinctive sense, which taught him what colours
harmonized, and what forms were graceful. His mistress often praised his
bouquets and garlands, and affection for her stimulated him, to attain
as much perfection as possible in the flowery decorations of her room,
her table, and her dress. Little Lambert had a great desire to be
helpful, also, in the garden, but the exercise heated him, and he so
often pulled up flowers instead of weeds, that his mother deemed it
necessary to retain him in the house. This arrangement made him so
restless and unhappy, that Jan undertook the responsibility of supplying
him with flowers in the cool arbours, and keeping strict watch upon his
movements. He often decorated him with a multitude of small bouquets,
and twined garlands round his broad palm-leaf hat, till he looked like a
dwarf May-pole, and then sent him into the house to show himself to his
fond mother, who was always ready to feign ignorance, and inquire what
little boy that could be; a manœuvre invariably rewarded by an infantile
laugh. In the course of one of these floral exhibitions, two
humming-birds followed him in the garden walks. His mother, who was
watching him through the verandah lattice, saw the brilliant creatures
circling round her darling’s head, thrusting their long bills into the
blossoms with which he was decorated; and she clapped her hands in an
ecstasy of delight. After that, it was a favourite amusement with Jan to
attract the humming-birds and butterflies round little master’s hat. The
next greatest entertainment was to teach him to imitate the birds, and
to make him laugh or look solemn while he listened to merry or dolorous
music.
Thus bound together by the pleasant links of love, and flowers, and
song, they stood together on the threshold of life, unable as yet to
conceive the idea of master and slave. But when little Lam, as they
called him, was six years old, he was attacked by one of the violent
fevers incident to the climate, and all the care unbounded affection
could lavish upon him failed to save his life. During his illness he was
unwilling to lose sight of Jan, who strewed his pillow with flowers, and
sang soothing lullabies with unwearied patience. If the invalid dozed
under the influence of his drowsy monotonous tones, he was still unable
to leave his post; for the little hand clasped his, as if fearful he
would go away. When the spirit of the dear child departed, and the
lovely form that once contained it was consigned to the earth, no one
but the father and mother mourned like Jan. The first time they visited
the grave, they found it covered with flowers he had planted there. In
the house, in the garden, everywhere, he missed the noise of the little
feet, which seemed like an echo of his own, so constantly they followed
him. For a while, all music was saddened to him, because every air he
whistled or sung reminded him of some incident connected with the
departed playmate. Months afterward, when he found among the shrubbery a
wooden toy he had made for him, he sobbed aloud, and all day long the
earth seemed darkened to his vision. This tender bond between him and
the lost one revived all the affectionate interest Madame Van der Veen
had ever felt for the “little brownie.” But the playfulness of their
intercourse was gone; being alike unsuited to the sadness of her
spirit, and the increasing stature of her favourite.
The young mother drooped under the blow, like flowers stricken by a
black frost, never to revive again. The healing hand of time rendered
her placid and resigned, but her former cheerfulness never returned. She
became very devout, and all her music was an utterance of prayer.
Looking on this life with the eye of one weary of its illusions, she
steadfastly fixed her thoughts on that world whither her darling had
gone. From the youthful soul of Jan the shadow was more easily lifted.
Again he revelled in the bright colours, the pungent perfumes, and the
varied sounds of that luxuriant region of the earth. Again he began to
mock the birds and the boatmen, and to mingle in dances with the other
young slaves. About two years after he lost his best beloved playmate,
he met with a companion who more than supplied his place, and who
imparted to his existence a greater degree of vivacity and joyfulness,
than he had ever known. Walking toward Grésik, one morning, to execute
some commission for his mistress, he heard a pleasant voice in the
distance, singing a merry tune. The sounds approached nearer and nearer,
and they were so lively, that involuntarily his feet moved faster.
Presently, a young girl emerged from a clump of tamarind trees, with a
basket of fruit on her head; and the tune stopped abruptly. The
expression of her countenance was extremely innocent and modest, and
though her complexion was of a deeper brown than his own, a blush shone
through it, like the glow of wine through a dark bottle in the sunshine.
Jan noticed this as she passed; and something, he knew not what, made
him remember her face very distinctly, and wish to see it again. He
never went to Grésik without thinking of the merry voice in the
distance, and never passed the clump of tamarind trees without recalling
the bright vision he met there. Many weeks elapsed before he obtained
another glimpse of her; but at last he overtook her with her basket on
the way to Grésik; and this time they did not meet to pass each other;
for their path lay in the same direction. With mutual bashfulness they
spoke and answered; and each thought the other handsomer than they had
at first supposed. The acquaintance thus begun rapidly ripened into
intimacy. He was not yet thirteen years old, and she was not eleven. But
in that precocious clime, Cupid shoots at children with a bow of
sugar-cane; and this little maiden carried a store of his arrows in her
large lustrous eyes. After that, Jan was seized with redoubled zeal to
do all the errands to Grésik; and it so happened that he often overtook
her on the way, or found her resting herself among the tamarind trees.
Then her road homeward was, for a mile, the same as his own. Thus they
travelled back and forth with their baskets, making the air musical as
they went; as happy as the birds, and as thoughtless of the coming
years. During these frequent interviews, he learned that she was a
slave; that her mother was from the island of Bali; and that her Arab
father had given her the name of Zaida. Before many months elapsed,
Madame Van der Veen heard, from the other servants, that Jan was in love
with a pretty girl, whose master lived not far from Grésik; and when she
questioned him, he bashfully confessed the fact. Then she spoke very
seriously to him, and told him how sorry she should be to see him doing
as many did around him. She said if Zaida was a good girl, and wished to
marry him, she would try to buy her; and if they would promise to be
faithful and kind to each other, they should have a handsome wedding at
her house, and a bamboo hut to live in. This almost maternal kindness
excited his sensitive soul to tears. She seized that impressible moment
to talk to him concerning his duties to God, and to explain how He had
made man for a higher destiny than to mate, like the birds, for a
season.
The negotiation for the purchase of Zaida was somewhat prolonged, and
she was at last obtained at an unusually high price; for her master took
advantage of Madame Van der Veen’s well-known character for generosity
and indulgence to the inmates of her household. Meanwhile, the gentle
lady allowed her slave frequent opportunities of seeing his beloved.
Once a week, he took his guitar and spent two or three hours with his
singing-bird. Every errand to Grésik was intrusted to him, and Zaida
found many occasions for going thither at the same hour. Very beautiful
were the scenes through which they passed in those happy days. South of
them was a range of mountains, blue and softened in the distance. On the
north was the bright sea, with the island of Madura lying like an
emerald gem on its bosom. Bamboo cottages, shaded by a mass of luxuriant
vegetation, dotted the level landscape, as it were, with little islands,
whose deep verdure formed a lovely contrast with the rich yellow of the
ripened rice fields. Here, the large scarlet blossoms of a pomegranate,
beautiful above all other trees, filled the air with fragrance; and
there, a tall cocoa-palm reared its great feathery head high above the
light elegant foliage of a tamarind grove. Arum lilies held up their
large white cups among the luxuriant vines that lay tangled by the
wayside. Wild peacocks and other gorgeous birds flitted across their
path, glittering in the sunlight, like jewels from fairy land. The
warbling of birds, the buzzing of bees, the whiz and the whirr of
numerous insects, all the swarming sounds of tropical life, mingled with
the monotonous tones of boatmen coming down the river Solo with their
merchandise, singing with measured cadence,
“Pull and row, brothers! pull and row!”
Only one discordant note disturbed the chorus which nature sang to
love. Near the house where Zaida’s master dwelt, there lived a Dutchman
and his wife, who were notoriously cruel to their slaves. Zaida
recounted some shocking instances of severity, and especially expressed
pity for a girl little older than herself, who had formerly belonged to
a very kind master and mistress. When they died, she was sold at
auction, and had the misfortune to pass into the hands of their inhuman
neighbour, whose wife was jealous, and lost no opportunity of tormenting
her. When Jan was singing some of the plaintive melodies to which his
own taste always inclined him, or when, to amuse the merry Zaida, he
imitated Chinese jingle jangles, sometimes the sound of the lash,
accompanied with shrieks, would break in upon the music or the
merriment, and put their spirits out of tune. Nature had made Jan more
sensitive than reflective; and he had been brought up so like a
humming-bird among flowers, that he had never thought any thing about
his own liabilities as a slave. Now, for the first time, it occurred to
him, “What if _my_ master and mistress should die, and _I_ should be
sold?”