_7th October, 1900._[1]
I calmly bide my time. When it comes then men shall see that I am no
soulless creature, but a human being with a head and a heart, who can
think and feel. It is frightfully egotistical of me to make you a sharer
in every thing that concerns me. It brings light to me, but to you, it
must be vexation! Everything for myself, nothing for you. I long to tell
you everything simply because I love you so much. Draw back from me,
thrust me from your thoughts, from your heart, forget me, let me
struggle alone, for O God, you do not know into what a wasps' nest you
stick your hand, when you reach it out to me!
Let me alone, I shall only be thankful for your sympathy and because you
have crossed the path of my life and caused sunshine and flowers to fall
across it. Let our meeting be as that of ships on the wide ocean that
pass in the dark night. A meeting--a blithe greeting--a foamy track
through the smooth water and then--no more! But I fear--I know that you
could never go--by like that--even though you might wish it. Let us
never speak of it again.
* * * * *
A little while ago in talking to Mama, about something of interest to
women, I told her what I had said so many times before, that nothing
attracted me more, that nothing was more longed for by me than to be
able to fly alone upon my own wings. Mama said, "But there is no one
now, not among us, who does that!"
"Then it is time that some one should do it."
"But you know very well that every beginning is difficult. That the fate
of every innovator is hard. That misunderstanding, disappointment on top
of disappointment, ridicule, all await you; do you realize that?"
"I know it. But it is not today nor yesterday that these ideas have come
to me; they have lived in me for years."
"But what will come of it for yourself? Will it bring you contentment,
make you happy?"
"I know that the way I wish to go is difficult, full of thorns,
thistles, pitfalls; it is stormy, rough, slippery and it is--free! And
even though I shall not be happy after I have reached my goal, though I
may give way before it is half reached, I shall die gladly, for the path
will then have been broken, and I shall have helped to clear the way
which leads to freedom and independence for the native woman. I shall
feel a great content because the parents of other girls who wished to
become independent would never be able to say 'There is no one, not
among us, who does that.'"
Strange, but I am not uneasy or disturbed; I am calm and full of
courage; only my stupid, foolish heart feels sick.
[1] To Mevrouw Abendanon.