Letters of a Javanese Princess Part 17

On the 24th of October, just two weeks after the interruption of this letter I come back to it again. My card, sent meanwhile, will have told you of the sad state in which we have been; happily that is now past.

As you know already, Roekmini has been dangerously ill; twice her life seemed to hang upon a single thread. Now thank G.o.d, she is on the road to recovery and grows each day a little stronger. Today she has been out of doors.

I cannot tell you how happy and thankful we are that everything has gone so well with her. Sister Kardinah, too, is on her feet again. She can now take little walks and her poor thin cheeks are beginning to fill out. We have certainly had our share of suffering.

It is now so unhealthy everywhere on account of the drought. Poor country--so much hangs over you besides sickness. Many sawahs over the whole country have been destroyed by the great drought. The suffering is worse in the neighbouring town of Grobogan and we look toward Demak with fear and anguish; there, twenty-six thousand sawahs have already been destroyed and cholera is raging. The West Winds will soon come that drown the land every year. Poor country! that after the East Winds, dries up and perishes from drought, and after the West Winds, is drowned with floods. But I shall write no more about this misery, but only tell you what has happened during the last fourteen days.

Sister Kardinah also wishes to become a teacher, and has chosen as her specialty domestic science and cooking. Our plan is to remain together always and to work side by side for our common goal; the education of our people.

If fate is propitious we shall open a school, in which instruction will be given along broader lines than mere book education; it will include lessons in handiwork, household arts and kindred subjects, and there will also be cla.s.ses in wood-carving and painting, and in mid-wifery.

But a course in domestic science can only be taken in Holland; there is no opportunity here. Kleintje's forte is really music and her dearest dream was and still is, to become a musician, but that is absolutely impossible for her; so my little maid has resigned herself to the inevitable.

She is so eager to work for our people, and a teacher of the household arts could do a tremendous amount of good. More and more the Government realizes what a great advantage it would be to the people and their rulers, if they could learn economy.

We may appeal to the Government on behalf of Kleintje, and asked that she be placed at a school where she could be qualified to teach domestic economy. My little sister wishes to undertake the great task of teaching the women and future mothers of Java economy and frugality.

Lately the Government has shown that it wishes to place a premium upon education and enlightenment in its magistrates; this has been evinced by the latest regents'[4] appointments. According to custom, regents have been appointed by the law of heredity, from father to son, and if there is no son available, then some near relative of the last regent is appointed. It has never happened before that the new regent was no connection at all; but the two newly appointed men are progressive and enlightened and have been educated in Europe.

It is evident that the Government is in earnest in its endeavour to civilize and educate the people of Java, and especially the cla.s.ses from which the Government servants are recruited.

The Heer Abendanon has said that there can be no argument against the statement that the intellectual awakening of the native people cannot progress appreciably as long as the woman is left behind in the forward march. The education of woman has always been an important factor in civilization.

In the last fifteen years, the Government of Netherland-India has sent four young Javanese to Holland at its own expense, to be educated there as teachers so that they may come back later to work for the good of their fellow countrymen. The Government realized that their work would have better results if they received their educations abroad. But the desire to do this did not come of itself to these men; it was suggested by those who had the awakening of India at heart.

With us it is different. In us the impulse, the longing to do something for our people was born in our own hearts, from deeply rooted conviction, and came through suffering, and through sympathy for the suffering of others.

We are only waiting for Father's permission now. Forgive a father, Stella, that he hesitates to give his children as hostages to an uncertain future. As innovators, as pioneers, we must stand alone, combat and overcome obstacles; our way will lead through much suffering and discouragement, it is certain. And what parents would wish to see their children zealous for suffering? What parents willingly see their children voluntarily dedicate themselves to lives of struggle and disappointment?

I do not know that I should go to Holland to study now, even if the opportunity were offered me, though to go has always been one of my greatest desires. Last year when it was suggested that I study at home I set myself against the proposition with all my might. If I studied at all, I wanted to study properly, and I could only do that in Holland or at Batavia. And as Holland was beyond my reach, my head was set upon Batavia.

I did not think I could study well at home, because I could not devote my whole time to my books. At my time of life there would be too many other claims upon me. Household and social duties would keep me too much from my work, it would be impossible to eliminate them if I remained at home. That was last year when Father was well and strong; now Father is that no longer alas!

Forgive a daughter, Stella, if once when she might have had the opportunity to fulfil her heart's wish, a wish upon which the future well-being of many others also depended, she held back, because she had not the heart to separate from a father who had given her love and care her whole life long and whose feeble health now demanded more than ever the care and affection which she alone could give.

Stella, I am a child, I am a daughter, not a woman alone, who can give herself wholly, and dedicate herself to a great and beautiful work. I am also a child bound by the bonds of tenderest love and grat.i.tude to an old grey father, who has grown old and grey through care for his children. Of these children perhaps I am dearest.

Stella, you who know my great love for him, and next to that my love for what I regard as our calling, who know the strength of my affection for my sisters, will be able to understand what a hard conflict there is in store for me. I must be separated from my sisters, away from the work that I would do, or separated from Father, united with my sisters, and giving my all to our calling.

Father is weak now, needs care, and my first duty is to him. Oh Stella, I should never have a moment's peace if I carried on my own work far away from Father, knowing that he was suffering and needed me.

The work which we would do is n.o.ble. It will not be only for the present but for all time. Still I should never be able to answer to my own conscience if I should neglect my old, grey father for any cause whatever. He has the first right to me.

One of the precepts which I wish to inculcate is this: honour every living creature, respects their rights, their feelings; and even when it seems necessary, shrink from causing the least suffering to another.

Should I be able to teach others what I myself neglected in practice?

I must never forsake my duty as a child, but neither must I forsake the duty which I owe to myself, for it is not my own happiness that depends upon its realization but great good to others. The problem now is to try and harmonize as far as possible these two duties which are diametrically opposed to each other. The only solution seemed to be to find some way by which I could stay with Father, and also go on with my studies.

I am going to study here at home, and fit myself for the profession of teaching, just as well as one can be fitted by self-study, when it is supported by a strong will, and perseverance.

I had already thought of this plan, but Mevrouw Abendanon gave it the impetus which pushed it forward, when she suggested some time ago that, without waiting for further arbitraments of capricious fate, we three go ahead and study here at home.

We have had a governess for two months; in her we have found a charming and affectionate friend. She is still very young, a girl of strong character who has left her family in the Fatherland and come here to earn her daily bread.

It is only unfortunate that this miserable sickness has come; otherwise we should be getting along famously. Naturally all this time I have not been able to look at a book. Annie Glazer, that is our teacher's name, has engagements which take her on some days, to another family here. But as soon as she can arrange it, she will give her entire time to us or to me alone most probably, for my poor sisters must not have anything in their hands, and above all in their heads, just now. They feel very miserable under the enforced idleness, but hands and heads are still weak.

What do you think about all of these high flying plans? If only you do not say, "Poor thing, you are trying to fly too high," I shall be satisfied. Do you know what I have noticed among our friends? That they have too high an opinion of us. They ascribe to us qualities and abilities which we do not possess. Sometimes we have to laugh at their enthusiasm. The saying that "Love is blind" is here applicable. You should only hear some of the things of which they think us capable. We feel our own limitations deeply, whenever our friends set us so in the sun. We feel small, but we feel grateful too for the love of which it speaks. One friend would be glad to see me work with my pen, for our people. I must found a journal devoted to their needs, and must be its editor, or I must become a writer on the foremost daily newspaper of India and write articles, by which those who are now fast sleeping will be frightened wide awake! Had I no reason for my a.s.sertion that "Love is blind"?

And, now I must think of parting from my sisters, the idea is frightful to them, and it is no less so to me. If they are successful in getting that for which they are asking they will be far from us in a strange land. It is fortunate that they have a brother there, who even as I, loves the sisters from his soul. This brother is full of enthusiasm and sympathy for our ideals, for in them he finds an echo of his own. We have made a compact with him, that when he has completed his studies, he will come back to us and we will work together.

It is an inspiration to us that he should share in the ideals of his sisters, it lifts us up, draws us forward, just as does the great sympathy and understanding which you have for us. There is still another young man, European, who only knows us through his mother, but who sympathizes with our cause and takes a lively interest in it. The sympathy and understanding of friends even when we do not know them personally, is a great support to us. We need this support very much.

You will always give me yours. Will you not, Stella?

[1] To Mejuffrouw Zeehandelaar.

[2] Modjowarno is the princ.i.p.al mission station in the eastern part of Java.

[3] Member of the Chamber. (M.D.)

[4] "La societe indigene est essentiellement aristocratique. Au-dessus du bas peuple qui cultive le sol et n'a de plus grande ambition que celle d'entrer au service du gouvernement de devenir fonctionnaire, s'etage une aristocratie nombreuse dotee de privileges et d'honneurs.

Cette aristocratie de naissance engourdie par sa situation privilegie n'a pas su la conserver intacte, et les Hollandais qui se sont appuyes sur elle pour gouverner, ont eleve a cote d'elle une aristocratie de merite donnant a des simples parvenues plus capable et plus instruits les postes d'iniatives sinon d'apparant."--"Java et ses Habitants," by A. Fabert, Annals des Sciences Politiques, Paris, 1900.

XXVII

_November 20th, 1901._[1]

One should never promise anything, even when it depends entirely upon oneself, because one can never tell beforehand what will happen. Never mind how honestly the promise is made, and how earnestly one desires to keep it, unforeseen circ.u.mstances may arise, which make its fulfillment impossible. There is a belief among us Javanese, that those who break a promise will be visited by a poisonous serpent. The serpent comes to remind them of their promise, if they do not quickly fulfill it, they will be visited by another more venomous serpent, whose bite is deadly.

If they delay longer, misfortune will surely overtake them. The serpent only lives upon the promises of holy spirits, as the souls of the righteous who are dead are nourished by flowers, perfume and incense.

The serpent is sent by the departed souls of the righteous to remind men of their forgotten promises. But why do I tell you of our Javanese beliefs? Forgive me, when there is so much besides that I want to tell you.

I deserve a fine scolding for my long delay in writing; in large measure, it was due to indolence. I am not satisfied with myself! What makes me so lazy and restless? I do not understand it. I am not definitely sick, but at the same time I am far from well. I am dull, weary and uneasy; nonsense--hypochondria--there! I must seize hold of myself; it is work that I need--work that my heart is in. And now comes my stupidity; because I cannot work at that which I would, I turn with distaste from all other forms of toil. That is weakness, I know. But I could stand a whole avalanche of work better than these unbearable trivialities with which my time is filled.

[1] To Mevrouw Abendanon.

XXVIII

_November 29, 1901._[1]

I fear that it made you both sad to read my last letter, and it will certainly please you now to learn that though there is no change in outward conditions, there is a change in us. It is no longer night in our souls; a great calm has descended upon us. And through darkness and mist we see the splendid light break, which beckons us with friendly hands. It is the light of our ideal! We know now that we shall never be able to cease from striving; it has grown to be part of our being--of our very existence. It is not only today or yesterday that we have felt and lived for our cause! We should have to be given new hearts, new brains, and new blood would have to be put into our veins before it would be possible for us to live for anything else.