Letters of a Javanese Princess Part 30

XLIX

_October 12th, 1902._[1]

During the last year I often heard something about myself, which distresses me. I am a coquette. Do not spare me, but answer outright; am I a coquette? and if so, in what way? I am seriously troubled, for I dislike anything that is inconstant.

Some one, no slanderer, says that I speak with my eyes. Is that true? I have asked my sister to watch me well, and to tell me what they see in me that is strange, what there is in the play of my eyes. And my truth-loving little sister says--she is always conscientious--that my eyes dance as if they were saying much when I talk long, never mind with whom. Believe me, when I say that I do not do it intentionally; that I have no thought of pleasing; and if what she says is true, it is unconscious and in spite of myself.

It is a strange sensation, when one has always thought oneself a serious, candid girl, to hear all at once that one is a coquettish creature. I was astonished and distressed; I had never given the matter a thought, and would not be guilty of such conduct knowingly.

I am told that I must modestly (hypocritically) cast down my eyes. I will not do that; I will look men, as well as women, straight in the eyes, not cast down my own before them. I know very well that we shall be made to promise, perhaps under oath, when we go from here, that we will not bring to our families the terrible disgrace of sharing our love and sorrow with a European; on that point they can be at peace.

We would never think of such a thing; inevitably it would be wreaking destruction upon the whole cause. For our own sakes, we could not; we, who wish to set ourselves up as examples.

You know how very little I care for what "they say," but in this case it shall never be said, "There, you have the whole thing; see what comes of it. When a man gives his daughters European educations, they marry Europeans." That would do incalculable injury to the cause, and that may not be.

And yet actually what do we do but share our love and sorrow with Europeans? What am I doing at this moment? Do not Europeans live with us in our inmost hearts? And do we not share the inner life of Europeans?

Much, yes everything can be taken away from me, but not my pen, that will always be mine. Do not let them provoke us too much, the most enduring patience can give way. We may be driven to the use of that weapon, even though it should rebound and wound ourselves. You may be a.s.sured that we will make good use of it if we go to Modjowarno.

We long for comfort from our true friends, we have grown cold; we want to warm our frozen hearts on your hearts. We complain about the egoism of others, but what of ourselves? It is pure egotism to share our pain and suffering with others, and to ask for love when we know that for us love is inseparable from sorrow.

Do you not think we have gone back sadly? We have grown hard and unfeeling, and we are often afraid of ourselves.

O G.o.d, give us strength, help and support us; and from you, dear, I ask forgiveness for the sorrow I have caused you by this letter. But to be silent is not good--it is not honest. Forgive me, and love your brown children.

[1] To Mevrouw Abendanon.

L

_October 27, 1902._[1]

In spite of all that we have suffered, we know that we are fortunate, for there are many poor creatures in even more miserable circ.u.mstances than ourselves, who without friends, without a single confidante--must struggle on alone through life never hearing a cordial sympathetic word; never meeting an understanding look, or receiving a warm pressure of the hand. We feel that we are richly blessed in the possession of love and friends.h.i.+p such as yours.

If you will always love and trust us, little Mother, you will make us happy. We thank you again and again, for your love and sympathy. You see we are answering your letter at once, and we shall put it away and keep it as a sacred relic!

We pray and entreat you, think no more about our happiness. We have told you so often that it is not our own happiness we seek, but that of others.

When we go to Europe, we do not expect to gather roses for ourselves.

I protest we expect nothing of Europe--nothing of the "happiness" of which European girls dream, nor do we expect that we will find much friends.h.i.+p and sympathy there, or that we will feel at home in a strange environment. We hope only for one thing, to find there knowledge and enlightenment. It will not matter if we do not find it gay in Europe, if we but receive there what we seek.

We do not expect the European world to make us happier. The time has long gone by when we seriously believed that the European is the only true civilization, supreme and unsurpa.s.sed.

Forgive us, if we say it, but do you yourself think the civilization of Europe perfect? We should be the last not to see and appreciate the great good that is in your world, but will you not acknowledge that there is also much that brings the very name of civilization into ridicule?

We complain about pettiness and smallness of soul in our own surroundings; do not imagine for a moment that we think that in Holland we shall not find pettiness too.

You know better than we, that among the thousands that are called civilized by the world, only a very few are that in reality. That a broad mind is not possessed by every European from whom it might be expected. And even in the most elegant, exclusive and brilliant salons; prejudice, intolerance and short sightedness are no infrequent visitors.

We do not think of Holland as an ideal country, not in the least.

Judging from what we have seen of the Hollanders here, we can certainly reckon upon much in that small, cold country that will wound our sensibilities and bitterly grieve us. We Javanese are reproached as born liars, wholly untrustworthy, and we are called ingrat.i.tude personified.

We have not only read this many times, but we have heard it spoken aloud, and that was a fair test of the speaker's delicacy of feeling.

We only smile when we read or hear such pleasantries, we think to ourselves of European society life which often gives glaring proof of the truth and sincerity of those who sit in high places and look down with scorn upon the lying, untrustworthy Javanese.

We came in contact with Europeans very little until a few years ago; the first occasion on which we found ourselves in a European crowd, was at the time of the coronation of her Majesty. How admirable was the comedy play of the European world behind the scenes!

At that festival, my reverence for Europeans received its death blow. We saw two ladies in earnest speech, intimately holding one another by the arm, their heads confidentially close; we heard affectionate words here and there; good friends, thought we. A gentleman came and broke up the tete-a-tete. As he walked away with one of the ladies, we heard her say: "Such a cat."

While the remaining lady said to another nearby, "That unfortunate creature, she rigs herself up so ridiculously." Just a little while before she had declared that the dear one was charmingly dressed.

We received blow after blow that evening, through this, and other heart-rending little scenes. We saw red, fiery men's faces--"gentlemen"

who spread the horrible breath of alcohol around them, when they spoke.

And, oh, the noise and racket everywhere! We grew cold to our very hearts, and longed eagerly to get away from these "civilized"

surroundings. If we had been base, and had told what these friends had said of one another, a formal civil war would have broken out!

Soon after that a girl wrote us of a visit which she had paid to an alleged friend. She had been so charmingly, so cordially received. A little after, we met this "friend" and thanked her for her kind reception of our little friend. She said, "I think her a sullen girl; she always looks so sour and waspish."

Innumerable times we have witnessed fantastic kisses between persons whom we knew hated one another. And it was not the despised "nonas"[2]

who did this, but white people of unmixed blood; educated, and brought up with every advantage. We saw too how harmless, simple "nonas" were held up to ridicule by clever, educated Hollanders. "The Javanese is a born liar--wholly untrustworthy." We leave the accusation there. We only ask that when a child sins through ignorance, and a full grown, thinking person commits the same sin deliberately and with calculation, which of the two is the most guilty? We think sometimes with reason, what is civilization? Does it consist in a commanding tone, or in hypocrisy?

Oh, what do we do? what have we said? Forgive us little Mother. You know that it is not our intention to grieve you by being honest. Is it not true that honesty is the basis of our friends.h.i.+p--of our love? Often it is not polite to be honest. We do not enjoy being impolite; we are Javanese, to whom "politeness" belongs as a natural heritage.

We think that you ought to know our opinion of some things in your civilization. Because you seem to think that we look upon the European world as our ideal. It is not always there that we have found true education, and we know that you must think the same thing. True education is not the exclusive property of those who have had the advantage of books; it is to be found as well among the people upon whom a majority of the white race, convinced as it is of its own excellence, looks down with disdain. Our people have faults, certainly, but they also have virtues which could very well serve as examples to the civilized nations. We have degenerated, gone backward you see, or we would not have lost what a superficial glance can recognize as one of the peculiar qualities of the Javanese people--modesty.

Father said to me once, "Ni, do not imagine that there are many Europeans that really love you." Father did not have to tell me that, I knew it very well myself. We could count upon our fingers, and we would not have to use two hands either, those who are really our sincere friends. Most of them pretend sympathy for effect, or through calculation, with some end in view. It is amusing; if one looks at the humorous side of such things, then one is not distressed.

People often do such foolish things. Do not imagine that I do not see that many of those who now talk about native art, only do it to make themselves agreeable to me, and not because they have any real appreciation of it. Before me every one is enthusiastic. Is it from conviction? But that does not matter, the result will be good, and through such people the real friends of Java and the Javanese may be reached.

We know why the _Echo_ is glad to publish our articles. It is because we are a novelty, and make a fine advertis.e.m.e.nt for that paper. The Dutch Lelie placed its columns at my disposal, and time and again the directress has asked for letters from me. Why? For the advertis.e.m.e.nt.

Letters from a true daughter of the Orient, from a real "Javanese girl,"

thoughts from such a half-wild creature, written by herself in a European language, how interesting! If in despair we cry aloud our miseries in the Dutch language, again it is so very "interesting." And if--which may G.o.d forbid--some day we should die of our broken hearts--then it would all be so terribly "interesting." Oh, there are people who think that only the interesting is desirable.

There is much that is beautiful in the Javanese religious law. It is only a pity that it is not taken more as a symbol.

People take the things that the wise men preach, literally. They abstain from food and sleep; as now interpreted it means, that one must eat and sleep as little as possible and all will be well in this life and in the life hereafter. The great idea that is back of it, they pa.s.s by. That is "It is not eating and sleeping that is the aim of life."

I am a child of Buddha, and it is taught that we should eat no animal food. When I was a child, I was very ill. The doctors could not help me, they could suggest nothing. Then a Chinese convict,[3] who had been friendly with us children, begged to be allowed to help me. My parents consented, and I was healed. What the medicines of learned men could not accomplish was done by "quackery." He healed me simply by giving me ashes to drink of the burnt-offerings dedicated to a Chinese idol.