Part 5

I have written so much, I hope that I have not made you weary; and forgive me, if I have been carried away by my enthusiasm and have here and there written something that may cause you pain. Stella, forgive me for having forgotten so entirely to whom I was speaking. I find such great sympathy in you; you have told me that you and I were kindred spirits, and even as such have I considered you. I am no Javanese, no child of the despised brown race to you; and to me you do not belong to that white race around us that holds the Javanese up to scorn and ridicule. You are white to me in your understanding of the truth, white in heart and soul. For you I have a great admiration. I love you with my whole heart, and many of my fellow countrywomen would do likewise if they knew you. O that all Hollanders were like you and some of my other white friends.

I have ordered "Berthold Meryan," but up to the present time I have not received it; most likely the book-seller had first to order it from Holland. I have read lately "Modern Women" translated from the French by Jeanette van Riemsdijk; disappointed I laid the book down. I had seen so many brilliant criticisms of this problem novel, it was said to be in all respects finer than "Hilda van Suylenburg," to be powerful and without faults.

But for myself I still think "H.v.S." the Ratoe (princess) of all that up to now has been written concerning woman's emancipation. I am on the lookout now for a critic (!!) to whom I may speak my mind about "Modern Women," for to my thinking that book lacks the strength and inspiration of "H.v.S."

I read "H.v.S." through in one sitting. I locked myself in our room, and forgot everything; I could not lay it down, it held me so.

It is a pity that my note-book is lost. I would ask you to read what I had written there. It is an outline of a translation from the English and called "The Aim of the Woman's Movement." I know of nothing better than that having been in the "_Gids_" or even in the "Wetenschappelijke Bladen," and then what you must read, if you do not already know it is "De Wajang Orang" by Martine Tonnet; it is in the "_Gids_" November number. It is about the Javanese and their art, and the court of Djokjakarta, very interesting; you would enjoy it. I have just read for the second time "Minnebrieven" by Multatuli. What a brilliant man he is. I am glad that soon a cheap edition of all his works will appear. I shall be very affectionate to Father.

The Father of our Assistant-Resident is a good friend of Multatuli's; and through him, we hear strange stories from the life history of that genius.

Couperus is still in India. When he is back in the Fatherland, I believe that a brilliant book about my country will appear. Is not his style singularly clear and beautiful?

[1] To Mejuffrouw Zeehandelaar.

[2] The native Javanese orchestra. The composition of this varies according to its uses. There is one gamelan for religious celebrations, another for feasts of rejoicing and another for the theatre. "The native Javanese orchestra in which percussion instruments play the predominant rôle. A gamelan salendes and a gamelan pélog are distinguished: in the former the instruments are adapted to an octave of five tones, in the latter to an octave of seven tones. The gamelan varies in composition but consists typically of the vĕbab, a viol of Persian-Palie origin, which carries the melody and is played by the leader of the orchestra; the soeling, a bamboo flute; kĕndang and kĕtipoeng, large and small drums; the tjelem poeng, a zither; the bonang, a set of horizontal gongs supported over a sound box; the four sorons (instruments consisting in the gamelan salendro of six toned metal staves, of seven in the gamelan pélog); they accompany the melody and give it out more plainly than the bonang (sometimes taking the melody unaccompanied); the gambang kajoe, or xylophone and a variety of large and small hanging gongs."--H.H. Bartlett.

[3] Audience hall and principal room of a Regent's palace. Usually octagonal in shape and open to the out of doors.

[4] "_De Kleine Man_" as the Javanese peasant is called by the Hollanders.

[5] Characters in Max Havelaar by Multatuli.

[6] In Java the wet and dry seasons depend upon the periodical winds. The exact time of these winds is not determined, but usually the "West Wind" attended by rain begins in October and lasts through November into December and afterwards subsides gradually. The "East Wind" begins in March or April and brings fair weather.

[7] Principal native magistrate of a village or town.

[8] A native Justice of the Peace.

[9] The highest provincial official of the Dutch Government is the Resident, each Resident has under his control one or more regencies. Next to the Resident comes the Assistant-Resident, the Comptroller of the first and second class and the Aspirant. The Resident's powers are administrative, judicial and fiscal. He is under obligations to protect the natives, maintain peace, further agriculture and education. But in so far as circumstances permit the natives are left under the rule of their own hereditary chiefs, natives of princely or noble rank, and these are responsible for the conduct of their subjects. The highest native official below the rank of regent is the District Head, then come the under District Heads of the first and second class. See Policy and administration of the Dutch in Java by Clive Day.

[10] Government building for the use of travelling officials.

[11] Mineral water from Holland.

[12] Where native Javanese are trained in medicine under the patronage of the Dutch Government.

[13] Rice is the principal Javanese food, and to the Javanese mind to do without rice is to do without food.

[14] "At one time the regents were all powerful in the native hierarchy and they are still of influence as political advisers. They retain the dignity but have had to cede much of its practical power." Policy and Administrating the Dutch in Java. Clive Day.

[15] Europeans who are new-comers in Java.

VI

_1900._[1]

We want to ask the Indian Government to send us to Europe at the country's expense. Roekmini wishes to study art, and later to work for the revival of our native art. Kleintje wants to go to the school of Domestic Science, so that she may learn to teach frugality, good house-keeping and the care of money to our future mothers and housewives. For in these virtues, the careless, idle, luxurious and splendour loving Javanese people have much need of schooling. And I, as a teacher, am to instruct the future mothers in practical knowledge--to teach them to understand love and justice and right conduct, as we have learned them from the Europeans.

The Government wishes to bring prosperity to Java and to teach the people frugality; it is beginning with the officials. But what good will it do, if the men are compelled to lay aside money, when the women in whose hands the house-keeping rests do not understand the worth of that money?

The Government wishes to educate and civilize the Javanese people and must needs begin by teaching the smallest and highest class, which is the aristocracy, the Dutch language.

But is an intellectual education everything? To be truly civilized, intellectual and moral education must go hand in hand.

And who can do most for the elevation of the moral standard of mankind? The woman, the mother; it is at the breast of woman, that man receives his earliest nourishment. The child learns there first, to feel, to think, and to speak. And the earliest education of all foreshadows the whole after life.

The most serious fault of our people is idleness. It is a great drawback to the prosperity of Java.

So many latent powers lie undeveloped through indolence. The high born Javanese would rather suffer bitter want and misery than have plenty if he must work; nothing less than a gold coloured pajoeng[2] thinks the high born head. The noble makes light of everything except that most desirable article--a golden parasol!

Our people are not rich in ideals, but an example which speaks, would impress them. They would be impelled to follow it. My sisters and I wish to go before and lighten the way, for that reason we want more than anything else to go to Holland to study. It will be well with us if we can go. Little Mother, Help us!

When we come back to Java, we shall open a school for girls of the nobility; if we cannot get the means through our Government, then we will work for it in some other way, ask our friends to subscribe, start a lottery or something. The means will be found when we are ready to do the work--but I am running ahead, because we have the hardest struggle here at home; with Father's consent we should be richer than queens. If we could only have that.

It is frightful to be a Javanese girl and to have a sensitive heart; poor, poor parents, what a fate was yours to have such daughters! We hope and pray fervently that they may be blessed with a long life, and that later they will be proud of us even though we do not walk abroad under glittering golden sunshades.

I will work hard over the Dutch language so that I can have it completely under my thumb and do with it as I will--and then I shall seek, through means of my pen, to arouse the sympathy of those who are able to help us in our work to improve the lot of the Javanese woman.

"Poor fool," I hear you say, "if you push will all your might against the gigantic structure of ignorance, will you be able to over-turn it?" But we will push, little Mother, with all our strength, and if only one stone of it falls out, we shall not have worked in vain. But first we are going to seek the co-operation of the best and most enlightened men in Java (even one of them could help us). We wish to form an alliance with our enlightened progressive men, to seek their friendship, and after that their co-operation with us. We are not giving battle to men, but to old moss-grown edicts and conventions that are not worthy of the Javanese of the future. That future, of which we, (and a few others), are the forerunners. Throughout all ages the pioneers in the struggle against tradition, have suffered, we know that. Call us mad, foolish, what you will, we can not help it, it is in our blood.

Grandfather was a pioneer half a century ago; he gave his sons and daughters a European education. We have no right to be passive, to do nothing. "Adeldom verplicht"[3] Excelsior! We wish that we could make common cause now with the men of the younger generation, but if we did we should be distrusted at once; friendship between unmarried women and men whether married or not, would not be understood. Later when we shall have gained our independence, it will be different. My brother knows many progressive young men personally and through correspondence. We know that there are men who appreciate a thinking, educated woman. I heard a man say once, (he was a highly placed native official) that the companionship of a woman who was educated and enlightened was a great comfort and support to a man.

[1] Mevrouw M.C.E. Ovink-Soer.

[2] A pajoeng or parasol is the symbol of rank in Java. They are of many colours and variations of stripes denoting the degree of the personage above whom they are held. The pajoeng of a sultan is gold with an orange stripe, that of a regent gold, of a sultana and her children white, below those are various combinations of red, blue, black and yellow the use of which is strictly prescribed by the laws of heraldry. A pajoeng is borne above the head of a Javanese dignitary whenever he goes abroad.

[3] Nobility involves obligation.

VIII

_August 1900._[1]

"What language, however powerful, can express every emotion of the soul. It can not be done, it is impossible."

I believe with you that it is impossible, at least as far as writing and speaking go, but there is a silent secret language which never expresses itself in words, or written signs, and yet is understood and comprehended by every one who has faith, because in its whole vocabulary the little word "lie" is unknown.

It is the pure chaste language of the eyes, the clear mirrors of the soul, and if you could have seen me this morning as five delicate, scented leaves quivered in my trembling hands, and warm tears coursed down my cheeks, you could, without hearing a single sound from my lips, have understood what I felt. Neither the mouth nor the pen can express it, but the eyes drowned in a flood of tears were raised on high as though to seek among the angels of God the ones who with tender wings came down to us, who were sad and wept bitterly upon earth, to comfort, and fill us with heavenly joy.

Every heart beat, every pulse beat, and each indrawing of the breath was a prayer of thanksgiving.

We are only ordinary human beings, a mixture of evil and of good like millions of others. Can it be that at first glance there is more of good than evil in us? One doesn't have to seek far for the cause of this; when one lives among innocent surroundings, it is not hard to be good, one does that of oneself. And, it is certainly no credit to do no evil when one has had no opportunity. Later when we have flown from the warm parental nest and are in the midst of ordinary human life, where no faithful parent's arm is thrown protectingly around us, when the storms of life rage and rave above our heads, and no loving hands support us, and hold us fast as our feet waver--then for the first time, you will see what we are. Oh! I pray so fervently that we may never add to the mountain of disappointment which life has already brought to you; another just as fervent prayer, do not think us beautiful; it cannot be otherwise, some day you will be disappointed, and that would cause us bitter grief.

Now slowly by bits and pieces I shall tell you truthfully nearly all that I can about ourselves, so that you can have some insight into our true characters, and will not in your great goodness endow us with fine attributes, which we have not. Still a whole lifetime lies before us; let us see what can be made of it.

* * * * *

"I feel so much for the cause of woman, I am touched by her fate; she is still unappreciated and misunderstood in many lands even in this our age of light. I would help her so earnestly, and so willingly." Thank you for these splendid sympathetic words. In them, your great compassion speaks, your deep pity for the suffering of woman who through the ages has endured wrong from her fellow creature--man. I thank God that there are some who are noble in heart and spirit, and feel for the sad fate of our native women, and wish to send light into their poor, dark world.

White sister, with your warm deep-feeling heart, your pure eyes, your rich spirit, reach your hand to us; help us out of this pool of grief and misery into which the selfishness of men has plunged us, and holds us fast. Help us to overcome the relentless egoism of man--that demon which for centuries has held the woman lashed, imprisoned, so that accustomed as she is to ill treatment she sees no injustice but submits with stoicism to what seems the "good right" of the man, and an inheritance of sorrow to every woman. I am still young, but I am not deaf nor blind and I have heard and seen much, too much, it may he, so that my heart is drawn with pain and I am swept violently forward in opposition to those customs and conventions which are the curse of women and children!

Helpless in bitter grief, I wring my hands and feel myself powerless to fight against an evil so gigantic! and which, O Cruelty! is under the protection of the Mohammedan Law, and is fed by the ignorance of the women themselves, the victims of the sacrifice. Fate allows that cruel wrong which is called polygamy to stalk abroad in the land--"I will not have it," cries the mouth vehemently and the heart echoes the cry a thousand fold, but alas--to will! Have we human beings a will? It is always, we must, _must_ do everything, from our first infant cry till our last breath.

Life is full of dark riddles and of secrets. We think that we know so much, and all the time we know nothing! We think that we have a will, an iron will, and picture ourselves strong enough to move mountains--then a burning tear, a sorrowful look from eyes that we love, and our strength is gone.

Let me tell you a story that is neither amusing nor interesting, but dull, monotonous and long drawn out, and which will demand much patience. First I ask your forgiveness, humbly, for the weary hour I am going to cause you.

It is the history of three brown girls, children of the sunny East; born blind, but whose eyes have been opened so that they can see the beautiful, noble things in life. And now, that their eyes have grown accustomed to the light, now that they have learned to love the sun and everything that is in the brilliant world; they are about to have the blinders pressed back against their eyes, and to be plunged into the darkness from which they had come, and in which each and every one of their grandmothers back through the ages had lived.

It is said that books full of "nonsense" came from the distant West and penetrated the heart of the "Binnenland," that quiet peaceful place on Java's ever green coast, where the sisters dwelt, that these rebellious ones were unwilling to bear the yoke which had been borne meekly and patiently by all women before them, and which now hangs suspended above them, so that any second it may be dropped upon their unwilling shoulders.

People are wrong. It is not only the books that have made them rebellious, conditions have done that, conditions that have existed from time immemorial, and which are a curse, a curse--to every one who happens to be born a woman or a girl.

Already in her earliest youth when emancipation was for her an unknown word, and when books and other writings which spoke of it, were far beyond her reach, in one of the three sisters was born the desire to open the door of life.

It was recreation hour at the European school at Japara. Under the yellow blossoming waroe trees in the schoolyard, big and little girls were grouped in happy disorder. It was so warm that no one cared to play.

"Shut your book, Letsy, I have something to tell you," pleaded a brown girl, whose costume and headdress betrayed the Javanese.

A great blond girl, who leaned against the trunk of a tree reading eagerly in a book, turned around and said, "No, I have to study my French lesson."

"You can do that at home, for it is not school work."

"Yes, but if I do not learn my French lessons well, I shall not be allowed to go to Holland year after next; and I am so anxious to go there to study at the Normal School. When I come back later as a teacher, perhaps I shall be placed here; and then I shall sit on the platform before the class as our teacher does now. But tell me, Ni, you have never yet said what you were going to be when you grew up."

Two large eyes were turned toward the speaker in astonishment.

"Only tell me."

The Javanese shook her head and said laconically, "I do not know."

No, truly she did not know, she had never thought of it, she was still so young, still so full of joyous young life. But the question of her little white friend made a deep impression upon her; it would not let her rest, incessantly--she seemed to hear sounding in her ears the words "What are you going to be when you grow up?" That day she did much task work in school, she was so absent-minded, gave the most foolish answers when she was asked a question, and made the silliest mistakes in her work. It could not have been otherwise, for her thoughts were not on her lessons, she was thinking of what she had heard in the recreation hour.

The first thing that she did when she got home was to run to her father and lay the problem before him.

"What am I going to be when I grow up?"

He said nothing, but smiled and pinched her cheek. But she would not allow herself to be put off, and waited, teasing him for an answer. At last an older brother came in, and answered the question. Her greedy listening ears heard these words:

"What should a girl become? Why a Raden-Ajoe, [a Javanese married woman of high rank], naturally."

The little girl was satisfied with the answer, and went quickly and happily away.

"A Raden-Ajoe," she repeated several times to herself. "What is a Raden-Ajoe?" The idea was with her always; she thought constantly of the two words, "Raden-Ajoe." She must later become such an one. She looked around her, saw and came in contact with many Raden-Ajoes, regarded them attentively, studied them, and what she learned (as much as a child could understand) of the lives of these women, caused the spirit of opposition to awaken in her heart against this being a Raden-Ajoe--the ancient iron-bound rule, that girls must marry, must belong to a man, without being asked when, who, or how.

This little girl reached the age of twelve and a half, and it was time that she should say farewell to her merry childish life, and take leave of the school-benches upon which she had been so glad to sit; and of the little European companions among whom she had studied so willingly. She was old enough to come home according to the custom of her country. It demands that a young girl remain in the house, and be rigidly secluded from the outside world until that time when the man for whom God has created her shall come and take her to his dwelling.

She knew all too well that with the school door much that was unutterably dear would be closed to her for ever. The parting from the dear teacher, who bade her farewell with such sympathetic, cordial words, counseling resignation, and from little companions, who with tears in their eyes pressed her hand.

It was hard, but it was as nothing in comparison with the giving up of her lessons, the ending of her studies. She was so bent upon learning, and she knew that there was much more yet to be studied before one can even go through the lower school. She was ambitious, and she did not wish to stand below her little white friends, most of whom were going to Europe later, or her brothers who went to the High School.

She implored her father to allow her to go to the High School at Semarang with the boys; she would do her best; her parents would never have to complain of her. She crouched on her knees before him, her pleading hands resting upon his lap, her great child's eyes were raised up to him full of longing, and in breathless suspense and anguish she waited for his answer.

Caressingly he stroked the dark little head, his fingers pushed back tenderly the rebellious locks from her forehead, and softly and yet firmly, the word "No" came from his lips.

She sprang up, she knew what "No" from him meant. She went away and crept under the bed to hide herself; she wished to be alone with her grief.

Once her teacher had asked her if she could not go to Holland to study with Letsy, his daughter, who was her friend. She listened eagerly and with shining eyes.

"Would you not like to go?"

"Do not ask me if I would like to go; ask me if I may," came hoarsely from her trembling lips.

Good man, he had meant to be so kind to her. Stranger that he was to native customs, he did not know how cruel his question was. It was putting dainties before the eyes of one starving for bread.

Foolish girl, it was never the intention of your good parents to send you to school to raise rebellious thoughts in your heart. You were to learn Dutch, and Dutch manners, nothing more. Stupid little thing, if that had been all you had learned so much misery in the future would have been spared you. But the stupid little thing had not made herself, she couldn't help it if God had given her a sensitive soul, and a heart which readily absorbed all that the Dutch language had helped her to think beautiful.