I
_Japara, 25 May, 1899._[1]
I have longed to make the acquaintance of a "modern girl," that proud,
independent girl who has all my sympathy! She who, happy and
self-reliant, lightly and alertly steps on her way through life, full of
enthusiasm and warm feeling; working not only for her own well-being and
happiness, but for the greater good of humanity as a whole.
I glow with enthusiasm toward the new time which has come, and can truly
say that in my thoughts and sympathies I do not belong to the Indian
world, but to that of my pale sisters who are struggling forward in the
distant West.
If the laws of my land permitted it, there is nothing that I had rather
do than give myself wholly to the working and striving of the new woman
in Europe; but age-long traditions that cannot be broken hold us fast
cloistered in their unyielding arms. Some day those arms will loosen and
let us go, but that time lies as yet far from us, infinitely far. It
will come, that I know; it may be three, four generations after us. Oh,
you do not know what it is to love this young, this new age with heart
and soul, and yet to be bound hand and foot, chained by all the laws,
customs, and conventions of one's land. All our institutions are
directly opposed to the progress for which I so long for the sake of our
people. Day and night I wonder by what means our ancient traditions
could be overcome. For myself, I could find a way to shake them off, to
break them, were it not that another bond, stronger than any age-old
tradition could ever be, binds me to my world; and that is the love
which I bear for those to whom I owe my life, and whom I must thank for
everything. Have I the right to break the hearts of those who have given
me nothing but love and kindness my whole life long, and who have
surrounded me with the tenderest care?
But it was not the voices alone which reached me from that distant, that
bright, that new-born Europe, which made me long for a change in
existing conditions. Even in my childhood, the word "emancipation"
enchanted my ears; it had a significance that nothing else had, a
meaning that was far beyond my comprehension, and awakened in me an
evergrowing longing for freedom and independence--a longing to stand
alone. Conditions both in my own surroundings and in those of others
around me broke my heart, and made me long with a nameless sorrow for
the awakening of my country.
Then the voices which penetrated from distant lands grew clearer and
clearer, till they reached me, and to the satisfaction of some who loved
me, but to the deep grief of others, brought seed which entered my
heart, took root, and grew strong and vigorous.
And now I must tell you something of myself so that you can make my
acquaintance.
I am the eldest of the three unmarried daughters of the Regent of
Japara, and have six brothers and sisters. What a world, eh? My
grandfather, Pangèran Ario Tjondronegoro of Demak, was a great leader in
the progressive movement of his day, and the first regent of middle Java
to unlatch his door to that guest from over the sea--Western
civilization. All of his children had European educations; all of them
have, or had (several of them are now dead), a love of progress
inherited from their father; and these gave to their children the same
upbringing which they themselves had received. Many of my cousins and
all my older brothers have gone through the Hoogere Burger School--the
highest institution of learning that we have here in India; and the
youngest of my three older brothers has been studying for three years in
the Netherlands, and two others are in the service of that country. We
girls, so far as education goes, fettered by our ancient traditions and
conventions, have profited but little by these advantages. It was a
great crime against the customs of our land that we should be taught at
all, and especially that we should leave the house every day to go to
school. For the custom of our country forbade girls in the strongest
manner ever to go outside of the house. We were never allowed to go
anywhere, however, save to the school, and the only place of instruction
of which our city could boast, which was open to us, was a free grammar
school for Europeans.
When I reached the age of twelve, I was kept at home--I must go into the
"box." I was locked up, and cut off from all communication with the
outside world, toward which I might never turn again save at the side of
a bridegroom, a stranger, an unknown man whom my parents would choose
for me, and to whom I should be betrothed without my own knowledge.
European friends--this I heard later--had tried in every possible way to
dissuade my parents from this cruel course toward me, a young and
life-loving child; but they were able to do nothing. My parents were
inexorable; I went into my prison. Four long years I spent between thick
walls, without once seeing the outside world.
How I passed through that time, I do not know. I only know that it was
terrible. But there was one great happiness left me: the reading of
Dutch books and correspondence with Dutch friends was not forbidden.
This--the only gleam of light in that empty, sombre time, was my all,
without which, I should have fallen, perhaps, into a still more pitiable
state. My life, my soul even, would have been starved. But then came my
friend and my deliverer--the Spirit of the Age; his footsteps echoed
everywhere. Proud, solid ancient structures tottered to their foundation
at his approach. Strongly barricaded doors sprang open, some as of
themselves, others only painfully half way, but nevertheless they
opened, and let in the unwelcome guest.
At last in my sixteenth year, I saw the outside world again. Thank God!
Thank God! I could leave my prison as a free human being and not chained
to an unwelcome bridegroom. Then events followed quickly that gave back
to us girls more and more of our lost freedom.
In the following year, at the time of the investiture of our young
Princess,[2] our parents presented us "officially" with our freedom. For
the first time in our lives we were allowed to leave our native town,
and to go to the city where the festivities were held in honour of the
occasion. What a great and priceless victory it was! That young girls of
our position should show themselves in public was here an unheard-of
occurrence. The "world" stood aghast; tongues were set wagging at the
unprecedented crime. Our European friends rejoiced, and as for
ourselves, no queen was so rich as we. But I am far from satisfied. I
would go still further, always further. I do not desire to go out to
feasts, and little frivolous amusements. That has never been the cause
of my longing for freedom. I long to be free, to be able to stand alone,
to study, not to be subject to any one, and, above all, _never, never_
to be obliged to marry.
But we _must_ marry, must, must. Not to marry is the greatest sin which
the Mohammedan woman can commit; it is the greatest disgrace which a
native girl can bring to her family.
And marriage among us--Miserable is too feeble an expression for it. How
can it be otherwise, when the laws have made everything for the man and
nothing for the woman? When law and convention both are for the man;
when everything is allowed to him?
Love! what do we know here of love? How can we love a man whom we have
never known? And how could he love us? That in itself would not be
possible. Young girls and men must be kept rigidly apart, and are never
allowed to meet.
* * * * *
I am anxious to know of your occupations. It is all very interesting to
me. I wish to know about your studies, I would know something of your
Toynbee evenings, and of the society for total abstinence of which you
are so zealous a member.
Among our Indian people, we have not the drink demon to fight, thank
God!--but I fear, I fear that when once--forgive me--your Western
civilization shall have obtained a foothold among us, we shall have that
evil to contend with too. Civilization is a blessing, but it has its
dark side as well. The tendency to imitate is inborn, I believe. The
masses imitate the upper classes, who in turn imitate those of higher
rank, and these again follow the Europeans.
Among us there is no marriage feast without drinking. And at the
festivals of the natives, where they are not of strong religious
convictions, (and usually they are Mohammedans only because their
fathers, grandfathers and remote ancestors were Mohammedans--in reality,
they are little better than heathen), large square bottles are always
kept standing, and they are not sparing in the use of these.
But an evil greater than alcohol is here and that is opium. Oh! the
misery, the inexpressible horror it has brought to my country! Opium is
the pest of Java. Yes, opium is far worse than the pest. The pest does
not remain for ever; sooner or later, it goes away, but the evil of
opium, once established, grows. It spreads more and more, and will never
leave us, never grow less--for to speak plainly--it is protected by the
Government! The more general the use of opium in Java, the fuller the
treasury.
The opium tax is one of the richest sources of income of the
Government--what matter if it go well or ill with the people?--the
Government prospers. This curse of the people fills the treasury of the
Dutch Indian Government with thousands--nay, with millions. Many say
that the use of opium is no evil, but those who say that have never
known India, or else they are blind.
What are our daily murders, incendiary fires, robberies, but the direct
result of the use of opium? True, the desire for opium is not so great
an evil as long as one can get it--when one has money to buy the poison;
but when one cannot obtain it--when one has no money with which to buy
it, and is a confirmed user of it? Then one is dangerous, then one is
lost. Hunger will make a man a thief, but the hunger for opium will make
him a murderer. There is a saying here--"At first you eat opium, but in
the end it will devour you."
It is terrible to see so much evil and to be powerless to fight against
it.
That splendid book by Mevrouw Goekoop I know. I have read it three
times. I could never grow tired of it. What would I not give to be able
to live in Hilda's environment. Oh, that we in India had gone so far,
that a book could cause such violent controversy among us, as "Hilda van
Suylenburg" has in your country. I shall never rest till H.v.S. appears
in my own language to do good as well as harm to our Indian world. It is
a matter of indifference whether good or harm, if it but makes an
impression, for that shows that one is no longer sleeping, and Java is
still in deep slumber. And how will her people ever be awakened, when
those who should serve as examples, themselves love sleep so much. The
greater number of European women in India care little or nothing for the
work of their sisters in the Fatherland.
Will you not tell me something of the labours, the struggles, the
sentiments, of the woman of today in the Netherlands? We take deep
interest in all that concerns the Woman's Movement.
I do not know the modern languages. Alas! We girls are not allowed by
our law to learn languages; it was a great innovation for us to learn
Dutch. I long to know languages, not so much to be able to speak them,
as for the far greater joy of being able to read the many beautiful
works of foreign authors in their own tongue. Is it not true that never
mind how good a translation may be, it is never so fine as the original?
That is always stronger--more charming.
We have much time for reading, and reading is our greatest pleasure--we,
that is, the younger sisters and I. We three have had the same bringing
up, and are much with one another. We differ in age, each from the
other, but one year. Among us three there is the greatest harmony.
Naturally we sometimes have little differences of opinion, but that does
not weaken the tie that binds us together. Our little quarrels are
splendid, I find them so: I love the reconciliations which follow. It is
the greatest of all lies--do you not think so too?--that any two human
beings can think alike in everything. That cannot be; people who say
that must be hypocrites.
I have not yet told you how old I am. I was just twenty last month.
Strange, that when I was sixteen I felt so frightfully old, and had so
many melancholy moods! Now that I can put two crosses behind me, I feel
young and full of the joy of life, and the struggle of life, too.
Call me simply Kartini; that is my name. We Javanese have no family
names. Kartini is my given name and my family name, both at the same
time. As far as "Raden Adjeng" is concerned, those two words are the
title. I told Mevrouw van Wermeskerken, when I gave her my address, not
to put Kartini alone--that would hardly reach me from Holland, and as
for writing mejuffrouw, or something of that kind, I have no right to
it; I am only a Javanese.
Now, for the present, you know enough about me--is it not so? Another
time I shall tell you of our Indian life.
If there is any light that you would like thrown upon any of our Indian
affairs, please ask me. I am ready to tell you all that I know about my
country and my people.
[1] Mejuffrouw Zeehandelaar.
[2] Queen Wilhelmina.