Part 14

The bride first raised herself on her knees and shuffled forward toward Mamma; she made a sembah and kissed Mamma's knee, to beg her mother's blessing on her marriage. From Mamma, sister went to the aunts, sisters, and cousins--to all those who were older than she--and went through with the same ceremony. Then she went to Father and kissed his knee, in order to receive his blessing; from him she went to her father-in-law; after that to her uncles and cousins. When she had finished kissing the feet of all and had returned again to her place, the bridegroom began the foot-kiss journey. He followed the example of his wife. When he had completed this ceremony, the regents went out, and tea and pastry were served as on the evening before.

At half-past eight bride and bridegroom departed. Hand in hand they left the hall. Usually they must go out on their knees; but as both of them had just recovered from illness, they were allowed to walk.

In other families the bridegroom must creep up the steps instead of walking, on coming to the house of his parents-in-law, before he pays his respects to the ladies of the family; that is the perfection of good manners.

The bridegroom went to the bridal chamber, and sister to our room, where we dressed her for the reception to Europeans.

Her bridal toilet, which had been the work of a whole day, was undone in five minutes. Only the headdress and the decorations on her forehead were left unchanged. We young girls ought not to have dressed her alone, but we did it just the same. We thought that it was entirely too stupid for us not to be allowed to touch sister in her bridal toilet. Sister now put on a kain of silk interwoven with gold, and a kabaja of ivory-coloured satin with silver embroidery. She wore another jewelled collar; the jewelled flowers in her hair and the diadem were taken off. In their stead she wore a golden crown from which hung a veil. On her head jewelled flowers on spirals were fastened. So veiled and crowned, it was as though she had stepped from a page of the "Thousand and One Nights." Sister looked like one of the fairy princesses. The costume was very becoming to her. What a pity that she could not have been photographed in it!

The bridegroom appeared in his official dress. Again the bridal pair sat before the kwade. At eight o'clock, they went arm in arm to the front gallery, where two gilded settees stood ready for them before a background of palms.

They received the good wishes of the European ladies and gentlemen, standing.

It was called a reception, but at the sound of the music, the dance-crazy feet turned toward the empty pendopo; bride and bridegroom both took a few turns around the pendopo.

It is not customary for young girls to appear at a wedding, but it would have been foolish for us to remain away from sister's feast.

It was not yet twelve o'clock, when the Resident, who was among the guests, toasted the young pair; his speech was answered by Father. Soon after the European guests took their leave, all but the Resident and a few others, among them a lady who is an intimate friend of ours. They remained for the native part of the feast.

After the departure of the European guests, the native nobles, who had absented themselves from the pendopo during the reception, came in and formed a half-circle, before which the bridegroom must give a proof of his proficiency in dancing.

The regents as well as the other chiefs had meanwhile dressed in more informal costume.

The gamelan played; a dancing-girl entered and began to dance. The Patih of Japara brought, on his knees, a silver waiter to the bridegroom, on which there was a silken cloth. When the bridegroom had taken the cloth, the Patih fell back.

Soft gamelan tones again sounded; it was a prelude, an invitation to the hero of the day to open the feast. The bridegroom rose and went to the middle of the pendopo; he fastened the silken cloth around him and named his favourite air to the gamelan players. The gongs chimed; it was immediately struck up.

I shall not attempt to describe the dance; my pen is inadequate. I shall only say that it was a joy to the eyes to follow the agile dancer in his graceful movements as he kept time to the beautiful gamelan music. Behind him danced the dancing-girl, also singing. The circle of native dignitaries accompanied the music by singing and beating their hands together. Toward the end of the dance the Resident went forward with two glasses of champagne. The gong sounded, and both dancers fell upon their knees. With a sembah the bridegroom accepted a glass from the Resident. He drank it and the Resident emptied his at the same time amid joyful gamelan tones and sounds of general mirth.

A servant took the empty glasses, and the Resident fell back. The bridegroom stood up and again began to dance. Now his father-in-law brought him a health[6] to drink; dancing, they advanced to meet each other, and at the sound of the gong, the young man knelt down to receive the wine-glass from the hand of the older one.

After a health had been brought to him by all the regents present, he left them and went back to sit by the side of his wife. Soon after that the bridal pair left the assembly; the European guests went home, but the feast was kept up till early in the morning. The European gentlemen had danced too, and our Assistant Resident acquitted himself excellently.

Mamma, our friend, sister Roekmini, and I stayed till the last European guest had gone.

The next day there was quiet in the house. In the afternoon the last ceremony took place. That is the first visit of the bridal pair to the parents of the groom. It is called in Javanese ngoendoh mantoe, which, literally translated, means "daughter-in-law plucking!" The daughter-in-law is compared to a flower which her husband's parents will pluck.

For this occasion both bride and groom should again put on their bridal costume; but that would have been much too wearisome, so the groom was dressed as usual and sister wore a kain interwoven with gold, and a silk kabaja; her hair was dressed in the form of a cap, and on her head was a small sheath in the shape of a cross, which was filled with flowers, and over the whole was a network of melati blossoms, and again the jewelled spirals waved to and fro above her head.

The bridal pair went in a procession, followed by the native chiefs on foot, to the house where the father of the bridegroom lodged.

Days and weeks after the wedding the newly married pair are still called bride and bridegroom. The bride is a bride until she becomes a mother. There are women, mothers, who all their lives are called nganten, short for penganten, which means bride and also bridegroom.

The day after the ceremony was spent in receiving visits from both Europeans and natives.

Five days later there was again a feast in the kaboepaten; the first return of the holy day which had opened the wedding ceremonies was celebrated.

The young couple left a week after the wedding; they were feted everywhere by various family connections with whom they stopped on their journey home. At Tegal the marriage was celebrated all over again; they remained there a week, and finally they reached their own home at Pemalang.

There, you have a description of a Javanese wedding in high circles. Sister's marriage was called only a quiet affair, and yet it entailed all that ceremony. What must a wedding be that is celebrated in a gala way?

We were dead tired after the wedding.

The Javanese give presents at a marriage; things to wear, such as kains, stomachers, headdresses, silk for kabajas, cloth for jackets; and also things to eat, such as rice, eggs, chickens, or a buffalo. These are merely meant as marks of good-will.

Kardinah also received a splendid bull from an uncle. This had to be placed on exhibition with the other presents!

When a buffalo is killed at the time of a wedding--and usually more than one is needed for the feast meals--a bamboo vessel filled with sirrih, little cakes, pinang nuts, and pieces of meat must be mixed with the running blood of the slaughtered buffalo. These vessels, covered with flowers, are laid at all of the cross-roads, bridges, and wells on the estate, as an offering to the spirits who dwell there. If these bridge, road, and water spirits, are not propitiated, they will be offended at the festivities, and misfortune will come of it. That is the belief of the people. Its origin I do not know.

A friend of ours says rightly that the Javanese are a people who are filled with legends and superstitions. Who shall lead the people out of the dusky realm of fairy tales into the light of work and reality? And then, when superstition is cast off, we do not want the poetry to be trampled under foot.

But of what good is my prattling? Let me rather ask you if you have been interested in this epistle, and if you will now forgive me for my long silence?

There is so much that is lovable in my people, such charm in their simple naïve beliefs. It may sound strange, but it is, nevertheless, a fact, that you Europeans have taught me to love my own land and people. Instead of estranging us from our native land, our European education has brought us nearer to it; has opened our hearts to its beauties, and also to the needs of our people and to their weaknesses.

Do not let me tire you any longer with the scribbling of a silly Javanese girl; I have written enough.

(Postscript)

In some places it is the custom when the bridal pair meet for the first time for the bride to wash the groom's feet as a token of submission before she gives him the knee-kiss. Whenever a widower marries a young girl, or a widow a young man, the giving of the sirrih at the wedding is omitted. The one who has already been married hands the other, who carries a watering-can, a piece of burning wood, the contents of the can are poured upon the fire, which naturally goes out; whereupon the charred wood is thrown away and the watering-can broken into pieces.

The symbolism of this I do not have to explain. It is plain enough. You should have seen sister as she sat there before the kwade. She ought to have been photographed, or, better still, painted, because that would have shown the colouring.

She stepped so calmly and sedately down the carpet of flowers; everywhere there were flowers and the perfume of incense; yes, truly, she was much like a Bodhisatwa! (incarnation of Buddha).

I cannot hear the gamelan or smell the perfume of flowers and incense, without seeing her image before my eyes.

The people picked up the flowers over which sister had walked and kept them; they bring good luck, it is said, and to young daughters, a husband!

[1] To Mevrouw de Booij-Boissevain.

[2] Pieces of cotton and silk.

[3] A scarf or shawl draped to form part of the costume.

[4 The box to hold the sirrih paste.

[5] A spitting-box; for it is necessary to spit after chewing sirrih. These boxes are often of gold or tortoiseshell, and beautifully ornamented. They are placed by a Javanese lady on all formal as well as informal occasions.

[6] "heildronk" in the orig. Dutch--"toast" would be appropriate here. (M.D.)

XXXVI

_March 27, 1902._[1]

It is always said of the girls here that, "they are well provided for, and comfortably taken care of." Have they a right to complain? Well means, well-being, happiness, the opposite of misery; and misery is what the women feel, and yet they have no right to complain--they are said to act always of their own free will. But how about their children? What is more wretched than a sad childhood, than children who too early have learned to read the shadow side of life?

I once copied something from a speech by Prof. Max Müller, the great German scholar who was so learned in Eastern tongues. It was almost as follows: "Polygamy, as it is practiced by the Eastern people is of benefit to women and girls, who could not live in their environment without a man to take care of them and to protect them."

Max Müller is dead; we cannot call him here to show him the benefits of that custom.

[1] To Mevrouw Abendanon.

XXXVII

_May 17th, 1902._[1]

I cannot tell you how great was my joy when at last I was able to begin my studies. So far it has been but a review of what I once learned at school more than ten full years ago. But there is one advantage in this late study. I can understand now much more quickly and readily than I could in my childhood, still it is a deep grief to me that I am now twenty-three years old instead of thirteen. I could then look forward so far. I could have carried on my studies indefinitely, but now time is limited on account of my age.

First, I am working at Dutch so that I shall have it thoroughly in my head, and then later I must study one or two of the native languages.

There, I have struck so hard with my pen that my pen-holder is broken through the middle, but even that does not make me give up. Poor pen! I have depended so much upon it and we have worked together happily for so long, I must be a strange creature to lament over a broken pen-holder!

In April, we went on a journey; we paid our sister a visit. We left our home without the least idea of seeing her again; we went to see another sister, our eldest, who was ill. While we were there, we received an urgent letter from little sister, begging us to come to Pemalang, to see her. We set out early the next morning. How can I describe that meeting to you? It was simply blissful! We did nothing the first few moments but look at one another and hold one another tight. And I was so thankful to see her well. She had never looked so fresh and blooming before. She had roses in her cheeks. And beyond everything, it delighted me to see how her husband valued and honoured her.

It is with great pleasure that I have learned to know my new brother-in-law. He is a good, sincere man, with many fine traits. He is very upright, just and true, and has a sympathetic heart. She is his comrade, his advisor, his friend, and a mother as well to his three children, who are as fond of her as if she were their own mother.

The children follow her footsteps everywhere, like little faithful dogs. The oldest child, a boy of seven, had lived with his grandparents. Sister took him in charge and the child is devoted to her now and loves to be with her; though his grandparents did not keep him at arm's length you may be sure. The two others are girls of six and four, she gives them lessons at home: so I might almost call them little pupils, Stella.

He leaves the education of his children entirely to her, and naturally sister will bring up her little daughters in our spirit. Sister has not been able to realize her early dream, as she had dreamed it, but is the task which she has undertaken less beautiful for that reason?

Our roads have divided, but both of us work for the same ideal; what matters it which road one takes if it but leads to the same goal?

* * * * *

I long to go to Holland for many reasons; the first is study, the second is that I want European air to blow upon the few remaining prejudices that still cling to me, so that they may be wholly driven away. There are not many left, it is true, but some obstinately remain. Only your cold air, Stella, can make of me in truth, a free woman. To mention but one of the persistent little prejudices, I should not be disturbed in the least if I were alone in a room filled with European gentlemen. But I can think of nothing, that could make me, under any possible circumstances, receive alone, even one well-born Javanese young man, who was unmarried. I think it is laughable, absurd, idiotic, but it is true. I dare not talk to a strange man without a companion, and even if there were company, I should think it tiresome, and should not feel at my ease.

So you see that in spite of my strong ideas of freedom, I cannot get away from the influence of my native environment, which keeps girls strictly secluded. When the idea has been strongly inculcated that it is not modest to show oneself to strange men's eyes, then it is a hard task to break away from it. It must not remain always so, that prejudice must go. How else shall we be able to work together with men? And that is part of our plan. One way in which we hope to accomplish much good.

Only the air of Europe will be potent to separate me from the influence of my Javanese education. Sometimes I laugh at myself and it drives away the foolishness for a little, but it always comes back.

We returned from our journey on the 19th of April. Father came several stations to meet us. He brought a long official telegram from the Resident, which announced that the Heer Van Kol would come to Japara the next day. That was a delightful greeting of welcome, and I found something still nicer when I got home--your letter.

All the government officials along the whole line received the orders from the Resident to wait upon the Heer Van Kol as he passed through. On Sunday afternoon, at the stroke of three, the travellers arrived. With Van Kol was a journalist, who served him as interpreter and guide, and Father, who had waited for him at the border.

Van Kol had made a resolution never to lodge anywhere except in a hotel, because he knows well the open hospitality of the country. But after he had made the acquaintance of our family, and received a pressing invitation, he stayed with us. Later we heard that it was we who had been responsible for his faithlessness to his resolution. He thought us worthy of scrutiny, he wished to observe the influence of European education on girls of the aristocracy, and could not let the opportunity pass. Happily we did not hear this till afterwards. The knowledge would have made us constrained and self-conscious.

At the table, he talked almost constantly of his wife and children. It was splendid to hear how this great man honours his wife. He met her through correspondence, a point of resemblance there, Stella. He corresponded with her at first about her literary work. It was only by chance that she discovered her great gift, her talent for writing. She was at that time a governess, and was staying with some friends at a villa on the slope of the Pinanggoengan (their villa now in Prinsenhage is called after that villa "Lali Djiwa"--soul's rest). One of the party must write a description of the place, and they drew lots to decide which one it should be. The lot fell upon her. She sent the article to a magazine and the editor wrote asking her for more.

Van Kol has been to all of the places where he lived and worked in his early days, and the children who formerly played with his daughter, he found mothers themselves when he went back. But he still remembered them and knew them all by their names.

Stella, we were happier that evening with the Heer Van Kol than we have been in a long time.

At first we showed them examples of the artistic work of our people, which called forth expressions of wonder and admiration, and Heer Van Kol made some sketches of them. Some of the company moved away and the chair next to him was empty; I slipped into it.

Then he began, "You have planned to go to Holland? Melchers told me so."

On my answering in the affirmative, he went on, "But it will be difficult for you later, when you come back. The greatest difficulty lies in coming back to the old life."

"Why do you think that?"

He spoke frankly and openly and said, "It would be too difficult for you, if later on, you should marry. After having lived in Holland you would never be able to make yourself contented as the wife of a native chief."

He instanced cases of well educated native girls their friends, who had married Hollanders. They and their husbands were devoted to one another but the Indian cannot be really happy amid European surroundings, and the Hollander can never accustom himself to the Indian life, so there is always an impassable gulf between husband and wife.

I let him finish quietly, before I brought my own ideas to the light of day; "Mijnheer Van Kol, if I should go to Holland, my intention is to be educated for a profession, that of teaching preferably, and when I come back I plan to open an institute for the daughters of native chiefs. It is to study that I wish to go there."

He looked at me in surprise; his blue eyes lighted up as though to himself he said, "That is a fine idea--a very fine idea." Then to me, "Do you not think it splendid to have an object in life?" There was so much enthusiasm in his voice and in the expression of his eyes, that I felt my heart grow warm, involuntarily my lips formed a word, a name "Stella."

Stella, if I could only have you here, but then the earth would be too small to hold my happiness. For that was happiness, that moment when I saw that my plans were understood and respected too, by a superior man like Van Kol. It was like the feeling that mothers must have when they hear their children understood and praised.

He asked if I had talked with Mevrouw Rooseboom. No, I had never had the opportunity; both times I had met her there had been a great company, a ball or a dinner. They seemed to have spoken of us at the palace, because Heer Van Kol told me as soon as he arrived that his Excellency the Governor General had said that he knew me.

Annie Glazer goes on her vacation next month to Batavia and to Buitenzorg. She will go for us to the Abendanons' and tell them all that we have in our hearts; she will go too to our friends at Buitenzorg. Could I but go with her!

What we have to do is to present a petition or something of the kind, which Heer Van Kol will write for us from Batavia. The petition will set forth our names, our ages and very briefly what we want to do. And to make sure that he will remember us when he gets to Holland I have at his instigation written to his wife and explained our plans to her.

He was delighted at Roekmini's idea of going to the Art Academy, and also to know that she wished to go through the household school. For indeed it appears that she has not enough talent to ever go very far in her art. He shared our belief that a teacher of Domestic Science could help our people very much. But he is anxious for her to be able to go to the Academy for a few months before she starts on her domestic studies. He thought it fine that we two should wish to work together and help each other. He said many times over "I think it splendid for you two to want to undertake so much."

I have talked to him about the idea of teaching hygiene and kindred subjects in our schools, and let him understand that I should be glad to take a course in hygiene and nursing, in order to teach them later. He thought that a good idea too.

"In India you could not study that except under great difficulties; in Europe it would be quite easy, there you would have everything under your hand, and you could easily get through in a few years, as you speak and write Dutch very well."

I told him of other reasons why we wished to sojourn for a time in Europe. He sympathized with us there too. And he was one with us in the belief that our ideas would be able to compel a larger following, that we could spread them broadcast, if we worked under the protection of the Government. The Javanese nation is like a great child that loves show and display. It respects everything with which the all powerful Government concerns itself.

We talked of the education, if such it may be called, of the daughters of the nobles. Van Kol knows Regents' wives, and knows of their monotonous dull lives.

It was time that something should be done for Javanese girls; he is the last man with whom I should have to argue about the importance of woman's place in society. He spoke of his own noble and highly gifted wife with such love and respect. He called her his counsellor and his guiding star.