_August 20th, 1902._[1]
Lately we have received some people from Batavia who admire the art of
our people, and who wish to do much for it. They were heads of the
governing board of _East and West_ in India, who wished to have examples
of native art for Santa Claus (Sinterklaas), and were anxious for Japara
to be well represented. We have been busy with that work. It is such a
pleasure to us to be able to work for the furtherance of our people's
art. We think it a great privilege to be the avenue through which some
of these expressions of their soul find a way into a new world. Works of
art that compel wonder and admiration are made by the despised Javanese,
whom the world in its simplicity has patronized.
When one looks at the splendid examples which we have, and after that
sees their simple creator, and the primitive tools with which he works,
one is filled with reverence for his work, and feels instinctively that
here one is face to face with a true artist. Once when we were in
ecstacies over something which he had made, we said to him "Oh, where
did you get such beautiful designs?"
The lowered eyes were raised, and with an embarrassed laugh, he answered
"From my heart, bendoro."[2] We were delighted at his answer, and
afterwards we laughed so at ourselves, because we had sat upon the
steps, and he was in a respectful attitude upon the ground, humbling
himself before us, to whom he was a hundred fold superior.
* * * * *
It is splendid that through the untiring efforts of yourself and some
others, the eyes of the Netherlands are beginning to be opened to that
important part of a child's education--reading. Holland may well
congratulate herself that she possesses such noble strength, which sets
itself with heart and soul toward the forming of the mind and spirit of
her youth. And in that respect the Dutch child is far more fortunate
than the Javanese, who possesses no books except school-books.
We were still children when an inspector of native education asked us to
write little narratives of native child life which were to appear in
small illustrated books. We had not the least idea when we wrote the
sketches, that some day the pioneer of the noble movement in Holland to
give the children good literature, would ask us to bring a little stone
for the building of that tower, which is rising so high in the pure air,
a tower full of clear, undimmed windows, looking on all the expanse of
Heaven--which she is erecting for her loved ones--the youth, the men of
the future. We are busy now collecting fairly tales, fables, games and
songs for her. It will not be easy to write down the fairy tales and the
little games. In the first place though we love music very much, to our
great sorrow we know nothing about it, because we have never had an
opportunity to study it. The greatest difficulty lies in this, we have
an entirely different musical scale from you, and in it there are chords
for which we seek in vain in European music.[3]
Only last week, we talked with a man who has spent twenty years
collecting songs and poetry of all kinds among the Indian people. He has
collected all conceivable forms, even rhymes and jingles. Now he is so
anxious to have some Javanese songs in his collection. But so far, he
has not been able to write them into music on account of the difficulty
of which I spoke.
But gamelan music is very difficult, and the children's songs and rhymes
are simple. We tried some of them on the piano and they went quite well.
It would seem as though an invisible telephone cable ran from here to
Lali Djawa and back again; otherwise we do not see how it can be that so
many things of which you spoke in your letter were already answered in
ours before we received it. In my letter which crossed yours, you will
find many of your questions answered. We had even written you of the
songs, games and fairy tales. It will be so unfortunate if we cannot
give the songs, for the charm lies in the music. As children, we did not
enjoy our fairy tales, if the narrator could not sing.
We have been having a heated controversy about the influence of books.
Our adversary thought that idealism was all nonsense; poetry was silly,
a book nothing--not of the slightest value.
We were delighted the next morning, when we opened the _Amsterdammer_ to
find your delightful article on the influence of books. We are novices,
triflers, our judgment is worth nothing; but now we have an authority on
the subject.
He is a very peculiar man, and it interests him to strike at our
innermost convictions. He likes to try to analyze our deductions. He is
a man of many good qualities, but so weak. Through him, we see still
more plainly why a child should first of all be educated in strength of
will. Without strength, all other good qualities are of little worth.
I cannot tell you how thankful we are that you have shown us the way to
true happiness--to true freedom--to God. Those who serve God are
free--they are bound to no man. To be dependent upon others is to be in
bondage to them. Where is true happiness? It is not far away, but it is
so difficult to find the road thither, we cannot go by tram, by horse or
by boat, and no gold can pay the cost of the journey. It is hard to find
the way, and we must pay the fare in tears and heart's blood and
meditation. Where is the road? It is in ourselves. In the world, we find
much that delights us, that transports us, so that we think we have
found the long sought happiness. But even as the thought comes, we find
by bitter experience that what we hold to our hearts, is empty dross.
True, lasting happiness dwells within, and is called soul's peace. We
have learned of that from you. God is jealous, it is said; He will not
suffer us to pray to any other gods but Him, and He punishes with bitter
disillusion those who create gods for themselves, and pray to them with
reverence.
So we think, "Thou shalt have no other gods before me," a command of
love. In it, there lies an earnest admonition that man is man and but a
fallible creature. Alas, if that commandment were only understood, so
much suffering would be spared us.
Mother says that she would like to meet you; to thank you personally for
the miracle that you have wrought in her children in opening their
hearts to the Father of Love. You ask what had turned us into
unbelievers; The things that we had seen lurking under the mantle of
religion, and Oh, the intolerance of so many strong believers.
We were children; how can one understand the thoughts of a child? We did
not know, could not understand that it is man who does evil, using God's
name to cover his wicked deeds. We asked and still ask for that matter,
not what is your belief? but what is the conduct of your life?
Righteousness was our God. Now we know that God and righteousness are
one.
* * * * *
We are reading a beautiful poem; it is in the flower-tongue. There is no
word for poetry in our language, so we say flower-tongue--and is it not
expressive? All our books are in poetic metre and can be either read or
sung. Do you remember the cool, bright tropical evenings, when
everything was quiet, and the stillness was only broken by the rustling
of the wind through the tops of the cocoa-nut trees? When the fresh
evening breeze brought you on its breath the sweet perfume of kemoening,
tjempaka, melati. Did a dreamy song never reach you then? the song of a
Javanese, who sings to his family and to his neighbours--of love--heroic
deeds, and glittering pageantry--of beauty and of wisdom; of mighty men
and women, princes and princesses of the long ago. It is that loveliest
hour when the Javanese, tired from the hard day's work, seeks rest in
song, dreaming all his cares away, wholly lost in the shining far-away
past, whither his song leads him. "The Javanese are a people who live in
the past," a young friend of ours says rightly. "They are lost in the
blissful dreams of their eternal sleep." That is true, but we are alive,
we must live; and life always goes forward.
Our friend says, too: "Your people must be awakened to a practical
realization of the outside world." Many things that are dear to us will
then be driven into the background, but should we for that reason, delay
the awakening?
Dreams are splendid, but what would become of us if we dreamed for ever?
We must make ourselves nobler, by trying to make our dreams real.
There is so much charm in the Javanese people. You have been the means
of making us realize it anew in the last few days. This collecting of
fables brings us into contact with many kinds of people, and it is a
great pleasure to find out their ideas. They tell them to us in simple
language, but they tell them so graciously, and we are moved by their
truth and wisdom. I wish that I could send you some of their beautiful
thoughts in our own soft musical tongue. Translated they are no longer
what they were.
We tell you too much about our people, do we not? But what a question,
it answers itself. We know that you are glad to know of them and that
you love them sincerely. We believe with you that the essential thing is
the spirit, and not the world. We are so rich, and so happy with the
spirit friends that we have, is it selfish to want to learn from each
one of them? To improve ourselves by correspondence with those who
nourish and broaden our minds?
We think it abominable to receive and to have to answer letters about
nothing, epistles that make one ask "Why were they written?" We are
certainly privileged to be in touch with so many superior minds.
Deep in the heart of Celebes we have a noble friend. We admire him
sincerely for his great work. It is always a holiday for us when we
receive a letter from Dr. Adriani. His letters are as interesting as
they are learned. We met him when we were visiting the Abendanons.
Mevrouw brought us together, knowing how much we should value the
acquaintance. When we are distressed by the heartlessness of others, the
mere thought of him is a consolation. The selfishness of people hurts
us; often it is boundless. It is such a delight to meet now and then,
among luke-warm or indifferent people, many without heart or head
either, a being who is all enthusiasm and heroic strength.
* * * * *
We are so sorry that you did not know us in the full glow of our triple
bond.
We were three souls welded together--one in thought and feeling--living
side by side in life as sisters. Storms passed over the young heads,
storms raged in the young hearts!
I think of your "In order to reach our ideals, we must lay down many
illusions." From the death of young spring blossoms, the strong fruit
ripens. It is so with human life--is it not? From the death of young
illusions, sometimes mature ones rise up, which ripen and bring forth
fruit.
We have laid down a great illusion. It was a bitter, miserable hour; we
buried it in our heart's blood, but still we felt as though we were
being rushed along as by a river, which was carrying us forward to
fresh, strong life.
We know that many tears must be shed to water the young fruit and bring
it to full growth. We are beginning now to understand what Dr. Abendanon
meant when he told us that through his wife. What was formerly dark to
us has meaning now. Yes, we shall only be able to move slowly. The
journey is long and the way steep and difficult. The idea of personal
suffering does not trouble us, but if it should react upon ourselves,
and in that way, impede our cause, it would be terrible.
I think of a certain evening not long ago, an acquaintance took both of
us to a concert at the play-house at Semarang; it was the first time
that we two had ever, in our whole lives, been alone in the midst of a
great sea of humanity, without sister, without father, without mother;
both of us absolutely alone, with all those strange faces. We had the
same thought: "So shall our life be in the future; we two alone on the
great sea of Life! But we are comforted, there is a God who will watch
over us."
On the twentieth of this month, we were at Tandjong Priok, in thought.
We saw the _Willem II._ steam away from the coast of Java, carrying as a
precious freight, Java's great friend and warm supporter, to the distant
Netherlands. He is already known in the Assembly of that country, so
that when he speaks in the interests of the millions of children in this
land, his words will have authority, and weight. Take him safely _Willem
II._ for the sake of these lands, and for the sake of his dear family.
And now, true best counsellor, our highly honoured and dearly loved
friend, we thank you many times for your letter. It did us much good in
every way. It encouraged us to earnest meditation-strengthened us and
opened up new vistas of thought to us.
[1] To Mevrouw Van Kol.
[2] Bendoro means master--It is also used to women of high rank.
[3] Jules Le Garcq says of Javanese music that it is full of charm, and
produces a sweet melody incomprehensible to European ears, and that far
from being barbaric it makes one realize that it is an art "très
difficile, très compliqué, très délicat."