Part 19

It was splendid to speak heart to heart with one whom we knew to be such a noble, sincere friend. And what was the result; I could not sleep the whole night, I tossed about in my bed with your father's earnest affectionate words still in my mind and in my heart. That was what we had needed, what we had longed for; an earnest affectionate word, spoken face to face. The next morning early, your father had to go away, to our great sorrow. We went with his Excellency in the carriage past the way where we had talked on the sand; the result of that talk is that very soon, with the full consent of our parents, we are going to present a petition to the Government through the Governor General, asking it to give us an opportunity to help the Javanese woman of the future by completing our education at Batavia. Are you not startled, Brother? I do not know what you will think--that we are fickle? To strive with all our might at first to go to Holland, move heaven and earth to get there, and when at last, thanks to the work of our friends, we can go--to say "I am going to stay." What do you think of such instability? But is it not better to turn! back and acknowledge one's mistake than to persist in a wrong course for the sake of consistency?

Do you know when that idea of going to Holland first took such a fast hold of us? It was in the December days of 1901, when we suffered without knowing why. Then there came to us a wild longing to go away--far away. Away, away--away into another atmosphere--to another land, where we should breathe a different air, and all our soul's wounds should be healed, where we should be strengthened in spirit and perhaps also in body. Strengthened and born anew, we would come back to work for the regeneration of our people. While we were away, people would cease to think of us. Alas, that it would seem so good to be forgotten. We should be forgotten by those for whom we would work, whom we so longed to help.

O, poor illusions! You know that it has always been one of our dearest dreams to be educated for our work, in Holland. But Father's last, severe illness has made us think deeply. We understood at last as we stood over his sick bed how fast his dear heart was bound up in us. But I still ask myself, should we have come to this decision if your father had not been here and talked with us? I do not know, but there is no doubt that our parents have to thank your father for much, and we ourselves, are very grateful to his Excellency too.

Sister and I have talked and pondered over your father's words for a long time. The result is that our going to Holland is still in the air--has flown to the moon, but that we hope to go to Batavia with all speed.

This is all personal. More important, is the effect which our decision will have upon our cause. In the first place if we go to Batavia, we could begin to study at once. While if we go to Holland, we must wait a long time. I think always of your father's words, "Why not do what can be done at once--something will have been accomplished then, while in Holland everything would lie far in the future." Your father spoke of the wounded man who called for help; some one comes to him and says, "No friend--I cannot help you now, I must first study, and learn how wounds should be dressed." Then the some one goes away, and when at last he had learned the art of binding wounds, the man who had called to him, had long been dead.

Then your father spoke of a pearl lying deep in the sea. You know that it is there but you do not know precisely where. You wade out into the sea and try to find it. The water comes up to your lips, some one calls to you and says-"Friend do not do that, go no further. The water already comes up to your lips, if you are drowned, still you will not have the pearl; get into a boat, measure and fish for it."

Your father said we could open a school at once without having to pass a single examination. There is nothing in the law that compels one to pass examination before teaching native girls. We could get some European teachers to help us, that would be as we wished, but do you think it would be well for us to open it at all without adequate preparation? It is true that in "Our School" (how pleasant that sounds) we want to give more of a moral than an academic education. If it is not erected by the Government we would not have to follow the prescribed paths, and we want the whole idea of our school to be the education of children, not as though they were in a school, but in a home, as a mother would bring up her own children.

It must be like a great home community. Where the inmates all love one another and learn from one another, and where the mother is not a mother in name but in spirit, the educator of the child's soul and body.

We have thought much about that other idea of your father's; but in this way; if we are not able to study, but have to remain at home, could we not take the little daughters of regents here, as many as the kaboepaten would hold? Let them go to school outside, but give them their moral education here with us. We could lead the young hearts through play and help to form the young characters. During the hours when those children would be at school, we could take other little children of native chiefs here in our own neighbourhood and teach them elementary branches, handiwork and other things. All the while unperceived, we would be knocking at the little hearts and trying to get nearer to the little souls. But if we find that we can open a school, then we had rather study first. Do you not think we are right, Brother? The school would be at Magelang or at Salatiga. Your father has talked with ours about it, and there is no objection at all. That would be almost as good as going to Holland. It would be splendid--Hé Brother?

Our grandfather in the past brought up the sons of other nobles. Grandfather had a tutor for his children, and he took the sons of the Pangerang of Solo and of a regent of middle Java to be educated with his own sons. So you see there is nothing new under the sun; our idea which is called startlingly new, is old, inherited from our grandfather. Our plan of education--our spirit, has descended from him. Grandfather was a pioneer; we are only carrying on his work--they were good people, both grandfather and grandmother.

Your father has told us that according to form a note must be presented in which our plans, and ideas are set forth plainly and exactly. It must be written from the heart, not at all as though it was intended for the Governor General. We should like for your father to read the note first, but his Excellency does not think it necessary. We must write simply, just as we feel.

[1 To Heer E.C. Abendanon.

LVII

_February 1st, 1903._[1]

I must thank you once more for your advice. Your talk did us a tremendous amount of good. Why should I not acknowledge to you that we had never looked at things in that light before, and had never dreamed that if we went to Holland we might endanger our own cause. Our "Friends" would be only too glad to spread abroad the report that we had grown to be wholly "blanda,"[2] and many parents would shudder at the mere thought of entrusting their children to us. You have opened our eyes; we are grateful from our hearts.

This morning we were taking a drive and we witnessed a naïve example of native faith. It was out in the fields. Men and animals were uniting in prayer to the All-Highest to bathe the thirsty earth with blessed rain.

In the foreground sat the priest and santries,[3] behind the priestesses in white garments and around them hundreds of men, women and children. Sheep, goats, horses and buffaloes were bound to stakes. A priest stood before them and led the service, praying in a loud voice. Most of the people fell in with "Amin-amin," in which chorus the Meeting of the sheep was blended.

This ceremony is called "sembajang istira." They prayed for three days and three nights. You can imagine the delight and gratitude of the people, because now it has rained. Their prayers were effectual and do you know what they say now? We cannot get the idea out of their heads, that we had a share in it.

Before this at other places the people had held "sembajang istira," but never a drop of rain fell. Chance willed it that we should be present at the solemnities here, so our simple people draw the conclusion that we gave strength to that last prayer and supplication which, plainly, was heard and answered.

Such childlike, confiding faith is touching.

I wish so often that I had a photographic apparatus and could make a permanent record of some of the curious things that I see among our people. There is so much which we should like to preserve, so that we could give to outsiders a true picture of us Javanese.

It would mean so much more than mere written description if they would see the whole scene on the paddi--the buffaloes and the botjok-angongs[4] included. I could then write what I, as a child of Java, think and feel about these things.

You know that I am always glad to be able to do anything for you, and when you ask a favour of me, it is a joyful occasion. I am also glad to do what I can for "East and West." I feel that I am only doing myself a service, for it is for our people, and I and my people are one. So dispose of my time as you will, with a quiet mind, and do not be afraid that you will be asking too much of me. I only ask your forbearance when something that you have ordered does not come quickly enough.

I have talked with the goldsmith about going to Solo to learn to work in tortoiseshell there. He is eager to go; already he can make little combs, he has the tools for that, but he does not understand polishing very well; he could learn that at Solo. He is also anxious to learn to work in horn and mother of pearl. That too could be learned there.

But the revival of our art is just beginning and naturally all of these things cannot be done at once. I have had a pleasant letter from Dr. Pijzel, one of the editors of _Eigen Haard_. I also received some copies of my article on wood-carving. The illustrations are reproduced beautifully. Do you not think so? I have one set of them made on very fine paper. Do you know what I think so splendid? That the very first time that I write for the public under my own name, "Moedertje" should introduce me. Though it is even as pleasant that the little article should be in demand. We have heard that in the Minahassa, a native girl has "crazy" ideas just as we have. You see we are not the only simpletons. If the nobles here disdain us, and we are rejected by the people too, then we can fly away and seek that sister soul. Far away from the whirl of the markets, in some forgotten place, together we will find work for the head, the heart and the hand. In the great wide world somewhere there must be a place for us.

My eldest sister has been here, but she went away yesterday, not back to Kendal, but to Koedoes to visit her mother-in-law and to try to arouse the latter's interest in our cause. Some one goes now to plead for us, who herself once bitterly opposed us. When she was coming here, we did not plan an elaborate speech that would soften her heart. We talked to her simply, just as we felt, and it was sweet and strange when our sister with moist eyes said tremulously "Good, may you carry out your plans and meet with success. I shall pray God to bless you."

We asked her, "Will you still cling to us if others revile us and condemn us?"

And she answered, "Even the loudest talkers will be silent some day." Sister thinks that her mother-in-law will help us, and that her husband too will have sympathy for us.

But how are things here at home? Formerly we must never speak to others about the subject nearest our hearts, now they bring it up themselves. We talked not long ago with a stranger about several things. My heart beat with joy and happiness when I saw Father standing next to me the whole time. "I am his child in spirit too," sang my heart! Father invited the stranger to come here so that we could exchange our thoughts and ideas. He thought it would be good for us. Oh is my dream to really become reality? Are we going on our way with our parents' full blessing? Before we had an opportunity to write to the Heer Sijthoff, we received a very cordial letter from him last week, reproaching us for our obstinacy. A few lines further on, he declared that we had forced his respect and promised to give us his support. When we need it, we have only to ask him.

[1] To Dr. Abendanon.

[2] Blanda: European.

[3] Those who live pious lives and scrupulously observe all forms of religion. A student of theology.

[4] Boys who herd buffaloes.

LVIII

_March 4th, 1903._[1]

I have been laid low by sickness; for days they watched over me anxiously--I was in the most frightful pain. Thank God, that is now behind me. And the suffering is a thing of the past. I was freed from my pain by such a strange remedy; we have preserved it and given it to all of our family. Later, it may do our children good.

Yesterday I began work again. And today for the first time, I went driving. Father's pleasure was touching. Naturally I sat next to him, and he held on to me tightly as if he were afraid of losing me. It was a delightful hour, the precious memory of which will be with me always.

[1] To Mevrouw Abendanon.

LIX

_March 9th, 1903._[1]

We have received word that the tortoiseshell will be here before many days. And then the goldsmith will go with it to Solo. Now all three branches of the artistic industry of my birth place are growing and thriving. And we are still looking for others that can be spurred back into life. The people know that our aim is their well-being, and they show their appreciation by working with eagerness and enthusiasm. I am thankful that they understand that we have their good always before our eyes; otherwise everything that we might do for them would be useless.

It is splendid to see life waking and stirring around us. They are beginning to grow vegetables on a large scale, even in the Kampong, around the Malay camp. Everything goes so well. The goldsmith has taken more boys as apprentices, and there are some clever youths that want to be educated for the wood-carving trade also. I have noted one thing with great pleasure; among the apprentices, there is a boy from the kota, and consequently not a child of Blakang-Goenoeng, the wood-carving village. We have to seek out other apprentices, but this boy from the kota came of himself and asked us to take him.

The little ones here will carry on our work when we are gone. We can lead them from a distance so long as they need leading.

* * * * *

Some one complained to us about ingratitude, among our inferiors. We told him that if he were distressed at the ingratitude of the people, it was his own fault.

He looked at us with his great eyes and said; "My fault, when people are ungrateful to me?"

"Yes, your fault, when you allow yourself to be distressed by it. For we must never do good with the thought of gratitude before our eyes. We must do good, simply because it is good, and because only in so doing will we fulfil ourselves." I believe that to be happy ourselves, and to make others happy, we must understand. The more we understand the less bitterness we feel, and the easier it is to be just.

He asked us too, "What would happen if you should meet some one in whose presence your heart would beat?"

"I should be happy and thankful because that would indicate that I had met a companion soul, and the more companion souls we find, the better it is for our cause, and that of those whom we love."

"You will never meet a companion soul."

That was said forcefully. What did he mean? Does he place our men too low--or me undeservedly high. If he but knew, I had just received an enthusiastic letter from a young--and to me unknown--companion soul. I shall send the letter to you. It is from a student of the Native Artisans school. A spontaneous expression of sympathy about the article that appeared in _Eigen Haard_ which you induced me to write. It is so like a young boy--young in its glowing enthusiasm, but through it a spirit speaks that is far from commonplace; there is candour in every line.

That is a luxury which writers can enjoy, unknown people feel that they are friends when they strike a sympathetic chord. I love to think that it was you who induced me to make my own name known to the public, and such an introduction from one whom I admire deeply is like a benediction.

If that article has met with success, I attribute it to the fact that it first saw the light through your hands. There were many things that had to be included in that introduction, but in none of them did it miss its mark. Its success has meant much to our artists, and since its appearance many questions have come to me about our wood-carving.

[1] To Mevrouw Abendanon.

LX

_April 25th, 1903._[1]

It is stupid and unpardonable that we did not write to you as soon as the great decision was made; that we were not to eat the fruit of the noble work which you and others have done for us. No one could be more surprised at this determination than we ourselves. We had been prepared for anything, but we had never expected that we would say of our own free will "We want to stay." But do not think of us, think of the cause and what will be best for that; it is there we must rest our case.

Do not think that our feelings have changed, they have not. When our request was on the way to the Governor General, we believed firmly that for the sake of our future pupils, education in Europe was an absolute necessity. But after that another truth was impressed upon us: "At this time, it would be far better for the cause if we remained in India."

You know that it is our dearest wish to complete our educations in Europe. Can you realize what it will cost us to give up the idea on the very eve of its realization? We have been through a terrible struggle. But we threw aside our own desires, when we found that the cause could be served best in a different way. We saw this as soon as we ceased to think of ourselves, but only of our cause.

The people for whom we wish to work, must learn to know us. If we went away, we should become as strangers to them. And when after some years, we came back, they would see in us only European women. If the people do not like to trust their daughters to European women, how much less would they be willing to trust them to those who were worse in their eyes, Javanese turned European.

Our aim is our people; and if they should be set against us, of what good would the help of the Government be? We ought to strike as quickly as possible, and place before the public as an accomplished fact a school for native girls. Just now they are talking about us, and we are known over the whole of Java. We must strike while the iron is hot. If we went away, interest would grow luke-warm and after a time dwindle away altogether. Now we can make ourselves personally known to our people. Seek to win their sympathy, teach them to trust us. If we had their sympathy and their trust then we should be at peace.

We have not entirely given up the idea of going to Holland, Stella. We could still go, always, and if we should go from Batavia, it would be better than from here. Our parents would then be accustomed to having us at a distance, and after they had once gotten used to the idea, it would not be so hard for them, if the distance were made greater.

For us too that would have a good side. Consider this, we have never been away from home, and if we were suddenly taken from our warm little nest, from our own country, and placed in another environment far from all who loved us, the change would be great.

But that is only a side issue. We knew that all along, and had never seen anything against it. The main question is the danger to our undertaking itself. We had never looked at the other side, from defiant courage, or courageous defiance, call it what you will--carried away by our enthusiasm, we thought little--or not at all--of the temper of the public. Yes, we thought it to our credit to defy it, and to hold our own ideas high against the world. Not disturbing ourselves one way or another about its approbation, so long as we ourselves were convinced of the holiness of our cause. We still think that is right, but in this instance, we may not live up to our ideal. For now everything depends for us upon the good will of the public. Always we wish to work for the good of our people, and we must not set them against us by crushing with relentless hands the ideas upon which they have thriven and grown old through the centuries.

Patience, the wise have said to us all along. We heard them but did not understand. Now we are beginning to understand. Stella, now we know that the watchword of all reformers must be Patience. We cannot hasten the course of events, we only retard them when we try to push forward too hastily. If the public should be aroused against us, the whole cause would be held back. People would be unwilling to give their daughters a liberal education, for education would be held responsible for such impossible creatures as we.

Patience! patience, even unto eternity. Stella, I was so miserable when this truth penetrated at last. We must curb ourselves in our enthusiasm, we will not pass our goal without seeing it. Mevrouw Van Kol wrote to us, that before we can realize an ideal, we must first lose many illusions. The first illusion that we have thrown aside is not to give ourselves to the public frankly just as we are. No, that may not be. The public must not know what we are really fighting--the name of the enemy against which we take the field must never, never be cried aloud. It is--polygamy. If that word were heard no man would trust his child to us. I have struggled against this, it is as though we began our work with a lie.

We hoped to make ourselves known just as we were, and that even so, from conviction that we were right, parents would send their children to us. It would be impossible.

We have not yet begun our work and yet we have seen our illusions dwindle away one by one. Oh Stella, do not make the loss of this great illusion harder to us by your sorrow. It is hard enough as it is. You have always known that it was my dearest wish to go to your country and to gather wisdom there for my own people. Let us never speak of it again.

I thank you, in the name of my parents too, a thousand times for all that you have done for us and--for nothing. No, Stella, your work is not lost, the work of you all. Though we may make no use of its fruits now, it will be of great good to our cause, attention will have been drawn to it.

Before this, questions relating to the education of the Javanese people, have always been brought up by those who had some interest of their own at stake.

Now the interest is free from ulterior motive; would that have been the case if you had not drawn the attention of the liberal to us? Would the Government have been ready to help us if you had not worked for us? I thank you a thousand times for your great love. In the name of my people, I thank you sincerely. Great good will come of your work for the Javanese. Be sure of that.

Our plan is, if our request is answered favourably, to go at once to Batavia. Roekmini will study drawing, handiwork, hygiene and nursing. In drawing, she will have lessons from the teacher at the Gymnasium, and she will take the course in hygiene at the Dokter-Djawa School. I shall take a normal course, continuing the same studies, with which I have already been working here for several months.

[1] To Mejuffrouw Zeehandelaar.

LXI

_July 4th, 1903._[1]--[2]