_August 15, 1902._[1]
Nellie's[2] enthusiastic article in _East and West_ has been copied in
several papers here. One in the _Echo_ also contains an appeal from that
paper asking the sympathy and co-operation of all women in India. The
_Echo_ quoted, 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 the _Algemeen 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 for _Belang 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.
[2] Mevrouw Nellie Van Kol.