_November 6, 1899._[1]
Certainly, Stella, I cannot thank my parents enough for the free
bringing up which they have given me. I had rather have my whole life
one of strife and sorrow than be without the knowledge which I owe to my
European education. I know that many, many difficulties await me, but I
am not afraid of the future. I cannot remain content in my old
condition; yet to further the new progress I can do nothing: a dozen
strong chains bind me fast to my world. What will be the outcome? All my
European friends ask themselves this question. Did I know myself, dear
people, I should tell you with pleasure. All can see that the situation
is critical for us; and then they say that it was a mistake for my
father to give me the little education which I have had. No! No! Not on
my dearest father lies the blame. No, and again no! Father could not
foresee that the same bringing up which he gave to all of his children
would have had such an effect upon one of them. Many other regents had
given to their families the same advantages that we have had, and it has
never resulted in anything but in native young ladies with European
manners, who speak Dutch.
There is no help for it. Some day or other it will come to pass, must
come to pass, that I shall have to follow an unknown bridegroom. Love is
a will o' the wisp in our Javanese world! How can a man and woman love
each other when they see each other for the first time in their lives
after they are already fast bound in the chains of wedlock?
I shall never, never fall in love. To love, there must first be respect,
according to my thinking; and I can have no respect for the Javanese
young man. How can I respect one who is married and a father, and who,
when he has had enough of the mother of his children, brings another
woman into his house, and is, according to the Mohammedan law, legally
married to her? And who does not do this? And why not? It is no sin, and
still less a scandal. The Mohammedan law allows a man to have four wives
at the same time. And though it be a thousand times over no sin
according to the Mohammedan law and doctrine, I shall for ever call it a
sin. I call all things sin which bring misery to a fellow creature. Sin
is to cause pain to another, whether man or beast. And can you imagine
what hell-pain a woman must suffer when her husband comes home with
another--a rival--whom she must recognize as his legal wife? He can
torture her to death, mistreat her as he will; if he does not choose to
give her back her freedom, then she can whistle to the moon for her
rights. Everything for the man, and nothing for the woman, is our law
and custom.
Do you understand now the deep aversion I have for marriage? I would do
the humblest work, thankfully and joyfully, if by it I could be
independent.
But I can do nothing, less than nothing, on account of Father's position
among our people. If I choose to work, it would have to be at something
fitting! It is only work for pleasure which would not be a disgrace to
my noble and highly placed family--a chain of regents from Java's
eastern coast to the middle. Why did God give us talents and not the
opportunity to make use of them? My two sisters have studied drawing and
painting, and without any instruction, have made fair progress,
according to those who know. They would gladly go on with their studies.
But here in Java, there is no opportunity, and we cannot go to Europe.
To go there we should have to have the consent of his Excellency, the
Minister of Finance, and that we have not. We must depend entirely upon
ourselves, if we wish to go forward.
O Stella, do you know what it is to long for something intensely and yet
to feel powerless to obtain it? Could Father have done so, I do not
doubt he would have sent us without hesitation to your cold and distant
land.
I draw and paint too, but take much more pleasure in the pen than in the
pencil. Do you understand now why I am so anxious to obtain the mastery
of your beautiful language? Nay, do not contradict me. I construct it
after a fashion, but I understand my limitations all too well. If I
could learn the Dutch language thoroughly, my future would be assured. A
rich field of labour would then lie open to me, and I should be a true
child of humanity. For, you see I, as a born Javanese, know all about
the Indian world. A European, no matter how long he may have lived in
Java and studied existing conditions, can still know nothing of the
inner native life. Much that is obscure now and a riddle to Europeans, I
could make clear with a few words.
I feel my powerlessness all too well, Stella. You would burst out
laughing if you could look over my shoulder and read this little sheet
of paper. What a crazy idea of mine, is it not? That I who know nothing,
have learned nothing, should wish to venture upon a literary career?
Still though every one else should laugh at me, I know that you will
not--I will not think that for a moment. It is indeed a desperate
undertaking, but "he who does not dare, does not win," is my motto.
Forward! Dare mightily and with strength. Three-fourths of the world
belongs to the strong.
You ask me how I came to be placed between four thick walls. You
certainly thought of a cell or something of that kind. No, Stella, my
prison was a large house, with grounds around it. But around those
grounds there was a high wall and that held me a prisoner. Never mind
how splendid a house and garden may be if one may never go beyond them,
it is stifling. I remember how often in dumb despair, I would press my
body against the fast closed gate and the cold stones. Whatever
direction I took, at the end of every walk there was always a stone
wall, or a locked door.
Of late Mevrouw Ovink often says to me, "Child, Child, have we done well
to let you come forth from the high walls of the kaboepaten?[2] Would it
not have been better if we had let you remain there? What will come of
it now? What of the future?"
And when she sees us drawing and painting she cries full of distress:
"Dear children, is there nothing else for you but this?" No, the only
fortunate thing, the best thing that could have happened to us, is that
we three were thrust out into the light. Luckily, I am optimistic by
nature, and do not quickly let my head hang. If I cannot become what I
so much desire to be, then I would rather be something, if only a
kitchen-maid. You will think now, that I am a "genius" in cooking. My
family and friends need not worry about my future, do you not agree with
me? For a good kitchen-maid is always in demand, and can always get
along.
The official salaries in Holland seem small compared with those in
India. Yet they are always complaining here, about the small salaries.
In India too one is entitled to a pension after twenty years' service,
and the clergy after only ten years. India is an El Dorado for the
officials, and yet many Hollanders speak of it as a "horrible Ape-land."
I get so infernally mad when I hear them speak of "Horrible India." They
forget all too often that this "horrible Ape-land" fills many empty
pockets with gold.
A change will come in our whole native world--the turning point is
fore-ordained; it is coming. But when will it be? That is the great
question. We cannot hasten the hour of revolution. For it is only we who
have rebellious thoughts in this wilderness, this dark distant land,
beyond which there is no land. My friends here say that we shall act
wisely if we do nothing but sleep for a hundred years. When we awakened,
Java would be more as we would have her.
"Work among the people of India" I know. Mevrouw Zuylen-Tromp sent
Father the book, hoping to arouse his interest. But he would rather
interest himself in a book about the native woman; I had thought of that
myself. I have much to tell about Javanese women, but I am still too
young, and have had so little, so pitifully little, experience with
life. The cause for which I would speak is to me too earnest and too
sacred to be approached lightly. I cannot write now as I wish, but I
know that when I have suffered more it will be different. After a few
years I shall have had a more comprehending insight into much that I
would know and many thoughts that now run darkly through my brain will
have grown clear.
I cannot tell you anything of the Mohammedan law, Stella. Its followers
are forbidden to speak of it with those of another faith. And, in truth,
I am a Mohammedan only because my ancestors were. How can I love a
doctrine which I do not know--may never know? The Koran is too holy to
be translated into any language whatever. Here no one speaks Arabic. It
is customary to read from the Koran; but what is read no one
understands! To me it is a silly thing to be obliged to read something
without being able to understand it. It is as though I were compelled to
read an English book, and the whole thing should go through my head
without my being able to comprehend the meaning of a single word. If I
wished to know and understand our religion, I should have to go to
Arabia to learn the language. Nevertheless, one can be good without
being pious. Is not that true, Stella?
Religion is intended as a blessing to mankind--a bond between all the
creatures of God. They should be as brothers and sisters, not because
they have the same human parents, but because they are all children of
one Father, of Him who is enthroned in the heavens above. Brothers and
sisters must love one another, help, strengthen and support one another.
O God! sometimes I wish that there had never been a religion, because
that which should unite mankind into one common brotherhood has been
through all the ages a cause of strife, of discord, and of bloodshed.
Members of the same family have persecuted one another because of the
different manner in which they worshipped one and the same God. Those
who ought to have been bound together by the tenderest love have turned
with hatred from one another. Differences of Church, albeit in each the
same word, God, is spoken, have built a dividing wall between two
throbbing hearts. I often ask myself uneasily: is religion indeed a
blessing to mankind? Religion, which is meant to save us from our sins,
how many sins are committed in thy name?
I have read "Max Havelaar,"[3] though I do not know "Wijs mij de plaats
waar ik gezaaid heb!"[4] I shall look for it for I think much, very
much, of Multatuli.
I will tell you another time of the position of the people, and of the
ruling classes among us. I have written too much already, and that is a
subject which demands no small space.
What do we speak at home? What a question, Stella, dear. Naturally, our
language is Javanese. We speak Malayish with strange people who are
Easterners, either Malays, Moors, Arabs, or Chinese, and Dutch with
Europeans.
O Stella, how I laughed when I read your question: "Would your parents
disapprove if you should embrace them heartily?" Why, I have yet to give
my parents, or my brothers and sisters, the first kiss![5] Kissing is
not customary among the Javanese. Only children of from one to three,
four, five, or six are kissed. We never kiss one another. You are
astonished at that! But it is true. Only our young Holland friends kiss
us, and we kiss them back; that has only been recently.
At first we loved to have them kiss us, but never kissed them in return.
We have only learned to kiss since we have been such friends with
Mevrouw Ovink. When she would embrace us, she would ask us to kiss her.
At first we found it queer, and acquitted ourselves awkwardly. Does this
seem strange to you? No matter how much I should love one of my Dutch
friends, it would never come into my head to kiss her without being
asked. You ask why? Because I do not know whether she would like it. It
is pleasant for us to press a soft white cheek with our lips, but
whether the possessor of that pretty cheek also finds it pleasant to
feel a dark face against hers, is another question. We had rather let
people think us heartless, for of our own accord we would never embrace.
If as you say I am in no way behind many Dutch girls, it is principally
the work of Mevrouw Ovink, who used to talk to us as though we were her
own sisters. Intercourse with this cultured, well-bred Dutch lady had a
great influence upon the little brown girls. And now Moesje knows very
well that though time and distance separate them, the hearts of her
daughters will always belong to her. Father had promised us--in reality,
Mevrouw Ovink made him give his word of honour--to let us go to
Djombang. Mijnheer Ovink will take us there by and by. We love them so
much, have so much love for our "Father" and "Mother." We miss them
sadly. I cannot even now realize that they are actually gone from us.
There was so little restraint between us. We lived all the time so
cordially together.
[1] To Mejuffrouw Zeehandelaar.
[2] A regent's palace.
[3] Max Havelaar of de Koffieveilingen der Nederlandsche
Handelsmaatschnappij, by E.D. Dekker (Multatuli), published first in
Amsterdam in 1860.
[4] "Show me the place where I have sown."
[5] Havelock Ellis says that the kiss is unknown throughout Eastern
Asia. In Japan, as in Java, mothers kiss their babies; but Chinese
mothers sometimes frighten their children by threatening to give them
the white man's kiss. See also Coltman, the Chinese, p. 90, p. 99.