Part 9

I do not know exactly how the matter stands; our friends at Batavia are away on a journey, but it goes very, very badly. Now if the plan for the domestic school for native girls should be in the same case, put down through the unwillingness of the parents themselves, there will be nothing left.

My fingers burn to write about the splendid plans of the Director of Education, and about the proposed education of Regents' daughters to be teachers, but I remain idle. I must not express my opinions on important subjects, least of all through means of the press.

Many persons in our immediate surroundings know nothing of what is brooding and raging within us; they know nothing of our plans. One of our acquaintances who comes to the house often, read in the newspapers about the proposed school for Regents' daughters, and said to my sisters, that would be just the thing for me, and that she and her husband would urge me to think seriously about it! Her husband spoke to me of the same thing, and with a blank face, as though knowing nothing, I let him speak.

Both husband and wife are enthusiastic for the work of emancipating the native woman. He is a government official, and for that reason can do much for our cause. He will soon be promoted, and then they will both be able to do much more for our people.

We have devised a plan for her, and she and her husband have listened to it with interest. When he becomes Assistant Resident, she is to invite the little daughters of the native officials serving under him to come to her house on certain fixed days, and give them instruction in handiwork and cooking; perhaps also in reading and writing. That would be a useful and beneficent work; the lady is delighted with the idea.

I have naturally told her much about you. She will become with pleasure a member of the Onderlinge Vrouwenbescherming.[2] She has two little daughters in Holland; one wishes to become an advocate, and the other too will study a profession.

I told her that it was my earnest wish before I started out in life in whatever capacity, to spend first at least half a year at work in a hospital to learn something of the care of the sick because now if sickness should fall under my hands, I should not know which way to turn. She said at once that her brother-in-law who is a doctor, would help to initiate me into the secrets of sick nursing. The doctor is a newcomer, speaks no Javanese and very broken Malay. I can be of service to him in turn by acting as interpreter, for a large majority of his patients are either natives or Chinese.

I am thinking seriously of this plan of spending some time in a hospital, it would add a great deal to my education; I have sat and pondered over it long. What do you think of it? Oh it is misery on top of misery to see some one suffer frightful pain, and not to know how to alleviate that pain. Those who watch suffer even more than the patient himself. I have sat by many sick beds, even as a child, and speak from experience. The idea of studying nursing came to me at the bed-side of a dear one.

Later I shall speak out and say frankly what I have in my heart in regard to the education of girls. I shall plead for the importance of a knowledge of hygiene and of the structure of the human body to women. I want to see hygiene and physiology placed on the curriculum of the school, which is to be erected. Poor bunglers, eh? who after so much hodge-podge must gulp down those subjects. What an ideal school that Institute for Native Young Ladies will be! Science, cooking, house-keeping, handiwork, hygiene and vocational training; all must be there! It is only a dream, but let us dream if it makes us happy. Why not?

* * * * *

What I have written thus far for the public has been but nonsense, suggested by some special happening or other. I may never mention serious subjects, alas! Later, when we shall have wholly wrested ourselves loose from the iron grip of age-long traditions, it will be different.

It would be different now, were it not for the love which we have for our dearest parents. Father would not be pleased if the name of his daughter should be rolled under the tongues of men. When I am wholly free and independent, I shall speak out and say what I think. So till that time comes, patience, Stella, for I cannot send you nonsense. When I write something in which I myself am pleased, in which my deepest convictions are expressed, I shall send it to you.

* * * * *

[1] To Mejuffrouw Zeehandelaar.

[2] Society for the Protection of Fallen Women.

XIX

_10th June, 1901._[1]

We know what Borel has written on the gamelan (he calls it soul music). Do you know other things by him as well? "Het Jongetje" is charming. Many think Borel morbid and unwholesome, but we enjoy him. "De laatste incarnatie" is very fine, and his "Droom uit Tosari" is still finer, in that he writes of the wonderful natural beauty of Java's blue mountains. How much we enjoyed it! One must be an artist, or at least, have been subjected to a lively dose of artistic feeling to see and take pleasure in the beauties of Mother Nature, and to be able to express it in fine, clear style; such an one must be a dear privileged human child, upon whose forehead the muses have pressed a kiss.

I hope some day to have an opportunity to study your beautiful, musical language; I shall not let the chance go by without making use of it, you may be assured. To be able to read and write it would make me happy above everything. And if I should ever be so fortunate as to master the German language then I shall go and look for you. Will it not be a good idea? In the meantime flying machines will have come into use, and on some golden day you will see one of them flutter over Jena's blue horizon bringing a guest from afar!

I should indeed have been born a boy; then, perhaps, I should be able to carry out some of my high-flying plans. Now, as a girl, in our present native civilization, it is almost impossible to take a little walk down a turnpike. How can anything else be expected, when in Europe, the centre of civilization, and of enlightenment, the strife should have been so long and so bitter for the good right of the woman? Could one in earnest expect that India, uncivilized, unenlightened, slumbering India, should take it well that her daughters, women who through centuries had been looked upon as beings of a lower order--yes, why should I not say it--as soulless creatures, should suddenly be regarded as human beings, who have a right to independent ideas, to freedom of thought, of feeling and of conduct?

Alas! nothing will come of that splendid plan of the Government, from which we expected so much; nothing will come of it because the majority of native chiefs opposed it. Adieu illusions! Ah! I have often thought and repeated aloud, that dreams and ideals were useless ballast in our Native civilization, a superfluous and dangerous luxury! But that says the mouth alone, at the instigation of the cold understanding. It makes no impression upon that stupid crazy thing, the heart. For dreams of freedom have taken such deep root in our hearts, that they are never more to be uprooted without making desolate the soil from which they have sprung.

I think it is very good of you to give yourself such concern in regard to my future. I am deeply grateful. But oh, do you know nothing but sadness concerning me? We know what awaits us. We three are going hand in hand through life that for us will be full of struggle and disappointment! The way that we have chosen is certainly not strewn with roses; it is filled with thorns, but we have chosen it out of love, and with love and a joyous mind we shall follow it.

It leads to the raising of thousands and thousands of poor oppressed and down-trodden souls, our sisters; it leads toward freedom and happiness for millions. For our fellow countrymen too will inevitably be brought to a higher moral condition, and then they will work with us on that eternal work of striving for perfection. That giant's work at which through the centuries the noblest and best have toiled, trying to lead mankind upward toward the light, and in short, to bring our beautiful earth nearer to Heaven. Is not that worth striving for all one's life?

It is the dream of "Tiga Soedara," the three Javanese sisters in the distant sunny land. Oh, could we but go to the land of changing seasons, the land of warmth and cold, the fatherland of learning, to prepare ourselves there for the good fight that we wish to make for the future happiness and well-being of our people. Above all the mind should be cultivated, before one can do good. Although people assert that to do good and to be intellectual are two different things; but I think that it takes the greatest wisdom to overcome the opposing forces that we human beings all feel in us, to temper them, and to regulate them so that they may work harmoniously together. I have seen so often that to try to do good ignorantly, does more harm than good.

Europe! Must you then remain always unattainable for us? We, who long for you with heart and soul.

But I do not believe in repining. Life is too beautiful--too splendid--to be wasted in complaints about things which can never be changed. Let us be thankful for the many blessings that the good God has bestowed upon us. Are we not fortunate above thousands and thousands of others, in the possession of our dear parents, good health, and in a number of little blessings, which make up the sum of our daily lives?

When we have enjoyed the music of singing birds then we are thankful that God has not created us deaf! When we are at Klein Scheveningen, that idyllic spot by the sea, where everything breathes quiet and peace, and watch the sun go down, then we know that we cannot be grateful enough that we have good eyes to enjoy the beautiful light which plays upon the golden water, and in the Heaven above it! and a still prayer of thanksgiving toward the invisible Great Spirit who created everything and governs everything--a joyful thanksgiving rises from my heart, thanksgiving that I may, and am able to see so much. For there are many who cannot. Not only the poor people to whom the days and nights are as one, an impenetrable blackness, but there are many who are in full possession of their faculties, yet never see.

And we realize how privileged we are above so many of our fellow men, and gratitude for all the blessings of the good God fills our souls. But is it not a sad thought that we must be reminded of the lack in others, in order to appreciate our own advantages?

There are many educated native women; many, many cleverer and more talented than we, who have been hampered not at all in the cultivation of their minds, who could have become anything that they would, and yet they have done nothing, have attempted nothing that could lead to the uplifting of their sex, and of their race. They have either fallen back wholly into the old civilization, or gone over to that of the Europeans; in both cases being lost to their people to whom they could have been a blessing, if they had but willed it. Is it not the duty of all those who are educated and on a higher plane to stand by with their greater knowledge and seek to lighten the way for those who are less fortunate? No law commands this, but it is a moral duty.

Forgive me if I have tired you by writing at too great length. How did I come to take up so much of your valuable time with the babble? Forgive me, but you yourself are not without blame; your two letters which are lying before me are so sympathetic; when I read their cordial words, it is as though I had you before me, and that is what I have imagined all the time that I have been writing.

That one of Java's volcanoes on the Eastern cape has broken out frightfully, and cost many lives, you will certainly have learned from others, so I shall not write of that. According to the papers, two other volcanoes are now active. Oh, inscrutable, beautiful blue mountains!

The eclipse of the sun on the 18th of May, for the observation of which scientists from all over the world came to Java, we could scarcely see here at all, owing to the unfortunate weather. The day was cloudy and there was, and is still rain. But what was vexation to us, was a blessing to the farmers! Father was made very happy by the good rain which refreshed the thirsty fields, and so much depends upon that. So much can depend upon a single shower of rain, woe or weal to hundreds, yes to thousands.

[1] To Professor and Mrs. G.K. Anton of Jena.

XX

_June 6, 1901._[1]

Dear Hilda:

Let me begin by sending you both, in the name of my sisters too, heartfelt wishes of happiness on the birth of your second son. We hope from our hearts that he may become just such a sweet, healthy little fellow as his brother, who will grow in time into a fine man, and make you both right proud.

How does our little friend act under his new dignity of big brother? Does he not want to play with Alfred right away? The little one is too eager, is it not true?

A May child! De Genestet has written such a beautiful poem about that; the ending is sad but I fervently hope that the prayer of the poet in the last two couplets may be fulfilled for your May child. Although naturally you know the lines yourself, I cannot help repeating them again here:

"De God der lente spreide[2] U rozen voor den voet De God der liefde leide U sachtkens, trouw en goed!

Bloei in uw vaders gaarde, Bloei aan uw moeders zij Hun schoonste bloem op aarde, Gij, knaapje van den Mei!"

I hear you laugh when you have read the verses, how foolish, eh? but do not be surprised at them, all old aunts become more or less sentimental, and to that category belongs she who now writes.

[1] To Mevrouw de Booij-Boissevain.

[2]

"May the God of springtime spread, Roses before your feet, May the God of love lead and Keep you gentle, true and good!

Bloom in your father's garden, Bloom at your mother's side, The loveliest flower on earth to them, Thou little blossom of May!"

XXI

_1st of August, 1901._[1]

We Javanese cannot live without flowers and sweet odours. The native flowers in their splendour awaken in me a world of thought and feeling whenever I breathe in their perfume. Days afterwards it lives in my memory, and I feel the strong Javanese blood coursing through my veins. Oh soul of my people, that used to be too beautiful, that was full of kindness, poetry, gentleness and modesty--what has become of you? What have time and slothfulness not made of you?

It is so often said that we are more European than Javanese in our hearts. Sad thought! We know that we are impregnated with European ideas and feelings--but the blood, the Javanese blood that flows live and warm through our veins, can never die. We feel it in the smell of incense and in the perfume of flowers, in the tones of the gamelan, in the sighing of the wind through the tops of the cocoa-nut trees, the cooing of the turtle doves, the whistling of the fields of ripened rice, in the pounding of the haddi-blokken[2] at the time of the rice harvest.

Not for nothing have we passed our whole lives amid surroundings where everything depends upon form; we have learned the emptiness of those forms, their lack of meaning and of substance; there is much good in the Javanese people. We are so anxious for you to admire our people. When I see something fine, some trait of character, that is peculiarly Javanese, then I think "How glad I should be if Mevrouw A. were with us. She would be pleased at this thing, would appreciate it, she who has wide open eyes for everything that is noble."

Our little Javanese woodcarver-artist as you call him, has made something very beautiful with the whole wajanghistory[3] carved upon it. Wajang figures on the cover, on the outside and inside both, and on all four walls. There is a case designed to protect it, which is also ornamented with wajang figures. The box is lined with orange satin, which is gathered and pleated, and it is set off by a silver rim, also of native workmanship. Indeed it ought to be very beautiful, for it is designed to hold the portraits of the Regents of Java and Madeira, which the queen has ordered sent to her. This mark of homage is a pretty idea. The Regent of Garoat ordered the box and I was given free play. I might spend as much as I liked for both objects.

[1] To Mevrouw Abendanon.

[2] In Java the rice is beaten from the husks by great wooden mortars. The pounding noise made by these on the sawahs (rice fields) at the time of the harvest produces a monotonous cadence.

[3] Wajang is the Javanese drama, it is very ancient and in the 9th century was already a traditional institution in its present form. It presents always the romantic legends or sagas of the Island, though some of the stories are versions of those in Hindu mythology and were introduced after the Hindu occupation of Java. There are three principal forms of wajang, the most common is the wajang kĕlitik or little wajangs, puppets made of leather. The master of the show or delang manipulates the strings and recites the lines behind the scenes. Sometimes the performances last from 7.30 in the evening until 6 in the morning. The wajang topeng or lyric drama existed in the year 1000 and probably earlier. The performers are men and women wearing grotesque masks. Animal masks such as tigers, elephants, wild boars, birds, etc., are often worn. In the presence of royalty the actors play unmasked.

The wajang beber is of very early origin and is a shadow play, shadows of marionettes being shown through a white cloth.

At the time of the Mohammedan conquest in the 15th century and after the forcible conversion of the Javanese to Mohammedanism, an effort was made to change the wajangs to conform with the Mohammedan law which forbade the representation of human beings, hence the introduction of the grotesque contorted masks still in use.

Wajang performances are always accompanied by gamelan music, explanatory verse and a chorus with chants.

XXII

_August 19, 1901._[1]

You must have thought it ungracious of me to remain silent for so long after your charming letter and your goodness in sending the dear kiekje, which I have enjoyed so much. The silence has not been from lack of appreciation, but because the one wholly sound Kartini had all of her time taken up with the little sick sisters. It was so warm, it was not hard to exaggerate a little indisposition, so that we could not help spoiling our invalids. Just now one of the pairs of eyes which I have seen so troubled, peeped over my shoulder and read this. Child, child, what do you gain by it? The children will never hear any praise from me, I assure you. But what am I doing now--speaking ill of my dear little sisters?

* * * * *

Nothing is impossible in this world. What we look upon today as an impossibility, tomorrow may be an accomplished fact.

There is a restlessness in our native civilization, the spirit of progress is moving among us. It is strongly combated by the inherent love which the Javanese has for the ancient "laws." There will be a hard fight before these hoary ideas and customs shall be deeply buried in the ground, never again to rise.

[1] To Mevrouw H.G. de Booij-Boissevain.

XXIII

_August, 1901._[1]

I should be so glad, so happy, if I could be in a position to lead children's hearts, to form little characters, to awaken young minds, to help to mould the women of the future who will be able to carry forward enlightenment like a torch. There is much misery in our Javanese woman's world, there has always been so much suffering, so much bitterness.

The only road which lies open to a Javanese girl, and above all to one of noble birth, is marriage.

From far and near we know of the horrible misery of the woman caused by certain Mohammedan institutions that are so easy for the man, but oh, so bitterly hard and miserable for her.

"She soon grows accustomed to it, she finds that it is nothing," say the wise men, and then "We should have no more peace if we put such ideas into her head."

Let me, a child of Java, nourished at her breast, who has lived here all her life, assure you that the native women have honest, simple hearts that can feel and suffer as well as the most delicate, sensitive woman's heart in your country.

But here there is a suppressed suffering which consumes itself. For she feels herself powerless and defenceless through her ignorance and inexperience.

The old traditions speak. Fatima's bridegroom takes a new wife and she is asked by the prophet what she feels: "Nothing, Father, nothing," she declared. And while saying this she leaned against a banana tree; the leaves, formerly fresh and green, withered, and the trunk against which her body rested shrivelled into ashes.

Again the Father asked her what she felt and she said, "Nothing, Father, nothing."

The Father gave her a raw egg and bade her hold it against her heart; he asked her to give it back to him, he broke it open and the egg was cooked.

The Eastern woman's heart has not changed. Many think it an honour to tolerate with unmoved countenances the one or more women their husbands have brought home, but do not ask what is hidden behind that iron mask, or what the walls of their dwellings could tell when the eyes of the world are removed. There are so many burning women's hearts, with poor, innocent, suffering, childlike souls.

And it was the misery that I saw, even in my childish years, that first awakened in me the desire to fight against these time-honoured customs, and substitute justice for old tradition.

Our work will have a two-fold aim, first to help to enlighten all our people, and secondly to raise up our sisters, so that they may live and be treated as human beings. To all of you who have sympathy for Java, and the Javanese, we send an urgent prayer--help us to realize our ideals; they mean so much to our people and to our sex.

Raise the Javanese woman, educate her heart and her understanding, and you will have splendid workers to co-operate with you in your noble work, your giant's work, the work of civilizing and enlightening a whole nation.

Teach her a trade, so that she will no longer be powerless when her guardians command her to contract a marriage which will inevitably plunge her and whatever children she may have into misery.

The only escape from such conditions is for the girl herself to learn to be independent.

There is no one yet who does it, who dares do it.

It is a disgrace for a girl not to marry, to remain an unprotected woman.

Our idea is to open, as soon as we have the means, an institute for the daughters of Native chiefs, where they will be fitted for practical life and will be taught as well the things which elevate the spirit, and ennoble the mind.

Would such a school succeed? We are bold enough to answer "Yes." Many of the native chiefs send their daughters to school now, but it is only for the accomplishments, and not because they expect it to be of any practical use; or of real benefit to the woman herself. Still that does not minimize the importance of the fact that more and more, they are educating their daughters. The many government and private schools can testify to the truth of this. Even the Emperor of Solo sends his daughters to school.

In progressive Preanger, where the education of girls is no new thing, a special school for daughters of the nobles, subsidized by the Government, has been opened. There are even Regents' daughters who go to a domestic school in a strange place!