Letters of a Javanese Princess Part 28

It is not the idea of pain that makes me abhor bodily punishment, but the deep humiliation that the victim must feel. And also the harm it does to the one who punishes. Physical punishment embitters, but never cures. That is our conviction.

As children of a ruler in a community where the idea is fast rooted that a Randen Mas or a Raden Adjeng is absolutely a being of a higher order, to whom a G.o.d-like reverence is due from the people, we have oftener than we would, been among scenes that made us tremble with exasperation.

At such times we are struck dumb and stand still as death, we can neither speak nor smile, indignation and pity hold our mouths fast closed. An acquaintance of ours once said "We must do it well; how otherwise will our little handful be able to keep peace and order among thousands? Had they not been afraid of us, they would long ago have hunted us from the land, and driven us into the sea."

Obedience through fear; when will the time come when the G.o.d-like rule, which is called love, will penetrate millions and millions of hearts?

One thousand nine hundred and two years ago the beautiful law of love was preached, but how many thousand years must pa.s.s before love will come into its own? Not only among the elect, but among the mult.i.tudes?

Your mother knows the whole history of our lives. Has she ever told you of our childhood years, when we lived under the despotic sway of older brothers and sisters? Among us it is a law, the younger ones must submit to the older in everything. That was not for sister Kartini; even in her early years, the desire for freedom had awakened. The result was that I was somewhat out of harmony with my older brothers and sisters, because I submitted to them only when I saw a reason in what they thought good.

So I stood there a child of twelve years, alone against a hostile power.

Bitter, bitter tears were wept by us as children.

Do you know who has always been our friend, our help and our support?

Kartono. But most of the time he was not at home, he was at Semarang.

Our friendship is quite old you see; it goes back to our earliest youth.

My eldest sister married, my older brother went away, and then we began a new life. The watchword was "Freedom, equality and fraternity." We wished to be loved--not feared.

It is not a boast, but every one knows that our little ones would rather be with us than with the others. Love is the bond which binds us together. And how our little ones love us! They have taught us much.

Those who embittered our childish years, were also our teachers, for they taught us to avoid being like themselves. Another proof that sorrow justifies its existence.

Those who formerly opposed us, now come to us with love and friendship.

They do not tell us so in words, but deeds bear witness. In every letter, our sister asks us to come and visit her. Our presence does good, both to her and to her house, she says always.

G.o.d is great, G.o.d is powerful! Could not that bit of our life history, become the life history of two peoples, of the Hollanders and of the Javanese? Would it not be possible for nothing but mutual love and respect to bind the Netherlands and Java together? How this happy state of affairs has come about in our own family, I do not know; I protest, I do not know. Many times the question has been asked us, but we only know that we have much love in our hearts and that is the whole secret I believe.

Now, best Brother, I hope sincerely that this long discourse will not frighten you away from a further correspondence with your sisters. And that you will take it as a proof of our good intentions, when we say that we look upon you as our brother and our friend. We hope that many letters from Sawah Loento with j.a.para as destination will be forthcoming. Tell us about everything--your work--your life and your environment.

It is a pity that photography is such a luxury, for we should be glad to take some peeps, for the benefit of our friends, into typical Javanese customs. We, as children of the country, can go everywhere here with a freedom that would not be allowed to you.

[1] To Heer E.C. Abendanon.

XLVI

_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 j.a.para 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 embarra.s.sed 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 att.i.tude 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 n.o.ble 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 ill.u.s.trated books. We had not the least idea when we wrote the sketches, that some day the pioneer of the n.o.ble 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 a.n.a.lyze 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 G.o.d. Those who serve G.o.d 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. G.o.d is jealous, it is said; He will not suffer us to pray to any other G.o.ds but Him, and He punishes with bitter disillusion those who create G.o.ds for themselves, and pray to them with reverence.

So we think, "Thou shalt have no other G.o.ds 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 G.o.d'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 G.o.d. Now we know that G.o.d 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 n.o.bler, 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 n.o.ble 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 pa.s.sed 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.