_October 12th, 1902._[1]
During the last year I often heard something about myself, which
distresses me. I am a coquette. Do not spare me, but answer outright; am
I a coquette? and if so, in what way? I am seriously troubled, for I
dislike anything that is inconstant.
Some one, no slanderer, says that I speak with my eyes. Is that true? I
have asked my sister to watch me well, and to tell me what they see in
me that is strange, what there is in the play of my eyes. And my
truth-loving little sister says--she is always conscientious--that my
eyes dance as if they were saying much when I talk long, never mind with
whom. Believe me, when I say that I do not do it intentionally; that I
have no thought of pleasing; and if what she says is true, it is
unconscious and in spite of myself.
It is a strange sensation, when one has always thought oneself a
serious, candid girl, to hear all at once that one is a coquettish
creature. I was astonished and distressed; I had never given the matter
a thought, and would not be guilty of such conduct knowingly.
I am told that I must modestly (hypocritically) cast down my eyes. I
will not do that; I will look men, as well as women, straight in the
eyes, not cast down my own before them. I know very well that we shall
be made to promise, perhaps under oath, when we go from here, that we
will not bring to our families the terrible disgrace of sharing our love
and sorrow with a European; on that point they can be at peace.
We would never think of such a thing; inevitably it would be wreaking
destruction upon the whole cause. For our own sakes, we could not; we,
who wish to set ourselves up as examples.
You know how very little I care for what "they say," but in this case it
shall never be said, "There, you have the whole thing; see what comes of
it. When a man gives his daughters European educations, they marry
Europeans." That would do incalculable injury to the cause, and that may
not be.
And yet actually what do we do but share our love and sorrow with
Europeans? What am I doing at this moment? Do not Europeans live with us
in our inmost hearts? And do we not share the inner life of Europeans?
Much, yes everything can be taken away from me, but not my pen, that
will always be mine. Do not let them provoke us too much, the most
enduring patience can give way. We may be driven to the use of that
weapon, even though it should rebound and wound ourselves. You may be
assured that we will make good use of it if we go to Modjowarno.
We long for comfort from our true friends, we have grown cold; we want
to warm our frozen hearts on your hearts. We complain about the egoism
of others, but what of ourselves? It is pure egotism to share our pain
and suffering with others, and to ask for love when we know that for us
love is inseparable from sorrow.
Do you not think we have gone back sadly? We have grown hard and
unfeeling, and we are often afraid of ourselves.
O God, give us strength, help and support us; and from you, dear, I ask
forgiveness for the sorrow I have caused you by this letter. But to be
silent is not good--it is not honest. Forgive me, and love your brown
children.
[1] To Mevrouw Abendanon.
L
_October 27, 1902._[1]
In spite of all that we have suffered, we know that we are fortunate,
for there are many poor creatures in even more miserable circumstances
than ourselves, who without friends, without a single confidante--must
struggle on alone through life never hearing a cordial sympathetic word;
never meeting an understanding look, or receiving a warm pressure of the
hand. We feel that we are richly blessed in the possession of love and
friendship such as yours.
If you will always love and trust us, little Mother, you will make us
happy. We thank you again and again, for your love and sympathy. You see
we are answering your letter at once, and we shall put it away and keep
it as a sacred relic!
We pray and entreat you, think no more about our happiness. We have told
you so often that it is not our own happiness we seek, but that of
others.
When we go to Europe, we do not expect to gather roses for ourselves.
I protest we expect nothing of Europe--nothing of the "happiness" of
which European girls dream, nor do we expect that we will find much
friendship and sympathy there, or that we will feel at home in a strange
environment. We hope only for one thing, to find there knowledge and
enlightenment. It will not matter if we do not find it gay in Europe, if
we but receive there what we seek.
We do not expect the European world to make us happier. The time has
long gone by when we seriously believed that the European is the only
true civilization, supreme and unsurpassed.
Forgive us, if we say it, but do you yourself think the civilization of
Europe perfect? We should be the last not to see and appreciate the
great good that is in your world, but will you not acknowledge that
there is also much that brings the very name of civilization into
ridicule?
We complain about pettiness and smallness of soul in our own
surroundings; do not imagine for a moment that we think that in Holland
we shall not find pettiness too.
You know better than we, that among the thousands that are called
civilized by the world, only a very few are that in reality. That a
broad mind is not possessed by every European from whom it might be
expected. And even in the most elegant, exclusive and brilliant salons;
prejudice, intolerance and short sightedness are no infrequent visitors.
We do not think of Holland as an ideal country, not in the least.
Judging from what we have seen of the Hollanders here, we can certainly
reckon upon much in that small, cold country that will wound our
sensibilities and bitterly grieve us. We Javanese are reproached as born
liars, wholly untrustworthy, and we are called ingratitude personified.
We have not only read this many times, but we have heard it spoken
aloud, and that was a fair test of the speaker's delicacy of feeling.
We only smile when we read or hear such pleasantries, we think to
ourselves of European society life which often gives glaring proof of
the truth and sincerity of those who sit in high places and look down
with scorn upon the lying, untrustworthy Javanese.
We came in contact with Europeans very little until a few years ago; the
first occasion on which we found ourselves in a European crowd, was at
the time of the coronation of her Majesty. How admirable was the comedy
play of the European world behind the scenes!
At that festival, my reverence for Europeans received its death blow. We
saw two ladies in earnest speech, intimately holding one another by the
arm, their heads confidentially close; we heard affectionate words here
and there; good friends, thought we. A gentleman came and broke up the
tête-à-tête. As he walked away with one of the ladies, we heard her say:
"Such a cat."
While the remaining lady said to another nearby, "That unfortunate
creature, she rigs herself up so ridiculously." Just a little while
before she had declared that the dear one was charmingly dressed.
We received blow after blow that evening, through this, and other
heart-rending little scenes. We saw red, fiery men's faces--"gentlemen"
who spread the horrible breath of alcohol around them, when they spoke.
And, oh, the noise and racket everywhere! We grew cold to our very
hearts, and longed eagerly to get away from these "civilized"
surroundings. If we had been base, and had told what these friends had
said of one another, a formal civil war would have broken out!
Soon after that a girl wrote us of a visit which she had paid to an
alleged friend. She had been so charmingly, so cordially received. A
little after, we met this "friend" and thanked her for her kind
reception of our little friend. She said, "I think her a sullen girl;
she always looks so sour and waspish."
Innumerable times we have witnessed fantastic kisses between persons
whom we knew hated one another. And it was not the despised "nonas"[2]
who did this, but white people of unmixed blood; educated, and brought
up with every advantage. We saw too how harmless, simple "nonas" were
held up to ridicule by clever, educated Hollanders. "The Javanese is a
born liar--wholly untrustworthy." We leave the accusation there. We only
ask that when a child sins through ignorance, and a full grown, thinking
person commits the same sin deliberately and with calculation, which of
the two is the most guilty? We think sometimes with reason, what is
civilization? Does it consist in a commanding tone, or in hypocrisy?
Oh, what do we do? what have we said? Forgive us little Mother. You know
that it is not our intention to grieve you by being honest. Is it not
true that honesty is the basis of our friendship--of our love? Often it
is not polite to be honest. We do not enjoy being impolite; we are
Javanese, to whom "politeness" belongs as a natural heritage.
We think that you ought to know our opinion of some things in your
civilization. Because you seem to think that we look upon the European
world as our ideal. It is not always there that we have found true
education, and we know that you must think the same thing. True
education is not the exclusive property of those who have had the
advantage of books; it is to be found as well among the people upon whom
a majority of the white race, convinced as it is of its own excellence,
looks down with disdain. Our people have faults, certainly, but they
also have virtues which could very well serve as examples to the
civilized nations. We have degenerated, gone backward you see, or we
would not have lost what a superficial glance can recognize as one of
the peculiar qualities of the Javanese people--modesty.
Father said to me once, "Ni, do not imagine that there are many
Europeans that really love you." Father did not have to tell me that, I
knew it very well myself. We could count upon our fingers, and we would
not have to use two hands either, those who are really our sincere
friends. Most of them pretend sympathy for effect, or through
calculation, with some end in view. It is amusing; if one looks at the
humorous side of such things, then one is not distressed.
People often do such foolish things. Do not imagine that I do not see
that many of those who now talk about native art, only do it to make
themselves agreeable to me, and not because they have any real
appreciation of it. Before me every one is enthusiastic. Is it from
conviction? But that does not matter, the result will be good, and
through such people the real friends of Java and the Javanese may be
reached.
We know why the _Echo_ is glad to publish our articles. It is because we
are a novelty, and make a fine advertisement for that paper. The Dutch
Lelie placed its columns at my disposal, and time and again the
directress has asked for letters from me. Why? For the advertisement.
Letters from a true daughter of the Orient, from a real "Javanese girl,"
thoughts from such a half-wild creature, written by herself in a
European language, how interesting! If in despair we cry aloud our
miseries in the Dutch language, again it is so very "interesting." And
if--which may God forbid--some day we should die of our broken
hearts--then it would all be so terribly "interesting." Oh, there are
people who think that only the interesting is desirable.
* * * * *
There is much that is beautiful in the Javanese religious law. It is
only a pity that it is not taken more as a symbol.
People take the things that the wise men preach, literally. They abstain
from food and sleep; as now interpreted it means, that one must eat and
sleep as little as possible and all will be well in this life and in the
life hereafter. The great idea that is back of it, they pass by. That is
"It is not eating and sleeping that is the aim of life."
I am a child of Buddha, and it is taught that we should eat no animal
food. When I was a child, I was very ill. The doctors could not help me,
they could suggest nothing. Then a Chinese convict,[3] who had been
friendly with us children, begged to be allowed to help me. My parents
consented, and I was healed. What the medicines of learned men could not
accomplish was done by "quackery." He healed me simply by giving me
ashes to drink of the burnt-offerings dedicated to a Chinese idol.
Through drinking that potion, I became the child of that Chinese
divinity, Santik-Kong of Welahan. A year or so ago we made a visit to
the holy one. There is a little golden image before which incense is
burned day and night. In times of epidemic it is carried around in state
to exorcise the evil spirits. The birthday of the holy one is celebrated
with great brilliancy and Chinese come from far and near. Old Chinese
residents have told us the legend of the golden image, which for them
really lives.
Our land is full of mysticism, of fairy tales, and of legends. You have
certainly heard many times of the enviable calmness with which the
Javanese meets the most frightful blows of destiny. It is
Tekdir--foreordained, they say, and are submissive. The fate of every
man is determined, even before he sees the light of life. Happiness and
misery are meted out to him before his birth. No man may turn away that
which God has decreed. But it is the duty of every one to guard against
misfortune as far as possible; only when it comes despite their efforts,
is it Tekdir. And against Tekdir nothing in the world can prevail.
That tells us to be steadfast and to push forward and to let happen,
what happen will, to submit calmly to the inevitable, and then to say it
is Tekdir. That is why our people would not set themselves for ever
against that which had actually happened. Brought face to face with a
fact, they are face to face with Tekdir and are submissive. God give us
strength.
We are in deep sorrow. We are preparing to go away from our loved ones.
To break loose the bonds which until now have been our happiness. But
better a sound little hut than a castle in ruins, better a strong little
skiff than to go in a splendid steam-boat and be driven upon a reef.
For a long time now I have had to go to bed without Father's good-night
greeting. Until a few months ago, Father never went to bed without
stopping first outside our chamber door, and putting his head inside to
see his little daughter once more and to call her name before he went to
rest. If the door was locked, he knocked, softly; his little daughter
must hear and know that she was not forgotten.
Gone now is that dear, dear time. I have had much love--too much--all to
myself. For when one has had too much, then there must be another, who
goes lacking. Now it is my turn to do without. I have bathed long enough
in the over-flow.
It is hard for me, but for him, my Father, I hope and pray fervently
that he may be so fortunate as to banish me from his heart utterly. My
poor, dear loved one will then be spared much misery. I shall always
love him dearly in spite of everything; he is more to me than ever, and
I am thankful for all the happy years that have gone by. But for my poor
Father, it would be better had I never become a child of Buddha, he
would then possess me wholly. Even though it were only in memory.
What Nellie said is true: "Life brings more cruel partings than death."
Those whom death takes away from us in the bloom of love and friendship
remain more surely ours in spirit than those whom life leaves to us.
My dearest Father, that he should find this out in his old age and from
his favourite child! May God forgive me, but it is not he alone who has
suffered and who will suffer; we too have striven and suffered. We pray
God fervently that in the course of time he may see the truth and will
learn to be proud of his little daughters. That we may atone to him in
some measure for the deep disappointment we are causing him now.
[1] To Mevrouw Abendanon.
[2] A half-breed woman, child of a native mother and European father.
[3] Formerly in Java convicts were released from prison to work the
government lands.