Every land has its own individual faults. India just as well as every other country on this round earth. Poor India, in foreign lands one knows so bitterly little of you, and a book like that of Veth will certainly not gain you sympathy.

Augusta de Wit[3] writes with understanding, and in beautiful language about India. We always read her articles in the _Gids_ with much pleasure.

In everything that concerns nature and art, and in "dreams," Borel is delightful. On other subjects he has less good to say, he goes hand in hand with his friend Veth. Have you read what Borel has written about the gamelan? We think it a little jewel. And did you see the article by Martine Tonnet about the Wajang Orang at the court of Djokarta? That too is a jewel. I wish that Borel would go there, he might feel inspired to break into charming poetry. The dance[4] of the Princes of Solo and Djokarta must be magnificent. It is the dance of dances it is said. It is a pity that we cannot go to Djokarta. We have often been invited, but it would be so wearisome to dress in court costume, and at court every one must be dressed (like a bride).

Do you know that fairy story by Marie Marx-Koning? We think it very fine. It seems to me that she must be a great admirer of Van Eeden.

"t'Viooltje dat weten wilde," reminds me of "De Kleine Johannes." Do you not like that too? It is so true in thought, and in style it is charming.

I read what you wrote of your little protege with great interest, and also what you said of the poor in Holland. I hear much of the misery of the poor there when winter comes. Poor, poor simple creatures! I correspond with a Frieslander; she tells me about conditions in Holland, especially in Friesland. In the winter time she has often sat down on the ground beside poor people who lived in little hovels of straw. The middle of winter, no work, nothing to eat, no fire, no clothes, no warm covering, and crying children. It is bitterly hard.

[1] Mevrouw de Booij-Boissevain.

[2] "Java; Geographisch, Ethnologisch, Historisch," 3 vols. Haraam 1875-80, by Professor Veth of Leyden.

[3] "Facts and Fancies about Java," by Augusta de Wit.

[4] For a description of the dance of the Princes at the court of Soerakarta, see "Un Sejour dans l'ile de Java" by Jules LeClercq. Chap.

14, p. 169.

x.x.xIX

_June 10, 1902._[1]

Dutch has always been my favourite study, and many people say that I am thoroughly at home in it. But heavens! fondness for a language is a very long way from knowledge of it. Next to languages I like geology. I also enjoy mathematics, but I am still struggling with the groundwork of history. Not that I do not like history; I think it is interesting and very instructive; but the manner in which it is set down in school-books has little charm for me. I should like to have a teacher who knew how to make the dry parts interesting. What I do think delightful, is ancient history; it is a pity that so little of it has come my way. I should love to study the history of the Egyptians, and of the old Greeks and Romans.

We do not wish to make of our pupils half Europeans or European Javanese. We want a free education, to make of the Javanese, above everything, a strong Javanese. One who will be blessed with love and enthusiasm for his own land and people, with a heart open to their good qualities and to their needs.[2]

[1] To Mevrouw Abendanon.

[2] En somme Java est trop gouvernee. La remede est sous la main; "Instruire les indigenes non pas avec l'idee d'en faire des Europeens, mais dans le but de les preparer a devenir les collaborateurs intimes de ceux-ci." A. Fabert.

XL

_June 17, 1902._[1]

I read in the paper that some Chinese girls had asked permission to stand the teachers' examinations. Hurrah for progress! I feel like shouting aloud in my joy. Of what good is the preservation of a few old traditions? We see now that the strongest and oldest traditions can be broken; and that gives me courage and hope. I should like to meet the gallant little Chinese girls; I should be so glad to know something of their thoughts and feelings, their "soul."

I have always longed to have a Chinese girl for a friend. I have often wondered about the inner life of such a girl. It must certainly be full of poetry.

At Semarang, a Chinese[2] millionaire has laid out a splendid garden. It lies on a hill and is so beautiful; there are rocks, grottos and tiny hills covered with green ferns. Ma.s.ses of flowers and miniature fruit trees are interspersed with little parks and winding paths.

There is a lovely summer-house in the middle of the lake. The lake has many capes and twisted turns. And in it, goeromis and gold fish can be seen swimming around. On the sh.o.r.e, is a hill with a grotto, and a bath house. A winding stair runs through the grotto and comes out on top of the hill, where two miniature temples stand. Fruit trees and flowers of all kinds grow and bloom everywhere; it is fairy-land become reality, only the fairy kings and queens and the silver shining little elves do not come out of the chasms in the rocks to make the illusion complete.

The whole idea is like a poem expressed in art. But where is the art that is not poetry? Everything that is good, that is high, that is holy, in a word everything that is beautiful in life is poetry!

We have seen the creator of this wonder place. A deadly dull, commonplace sjofele baba.[3] Images in plaster, human dragons, and tigers are scattered among the gra.s.s; these too are the creations of his fancy.

It is a pity that at the entrance of the walk that leads to the fairy lake, two figures of European workmanship have been placed; they destroy the harmony.

You have been to Batavia to see the exhibition?[4] Yes, to be sure, and what do you say now of the brown race? What of its art?

Oh I am so proud of my people, they are capable of so much, but you Hollanders must lead us. And you will do that will you not? We are like children, and you are our protectors, who must guide us and help us to be grown up men and women.

[1] To Mevrouw de Booij-Boissevain.

[2] In 1898, four years before this letter was written, there were 261.000 Chinese settlers in Java. Their constantly increasing number presents a problem to the Dutch Government. They are seldom day labourers but more frequently artisans, merchants or agriculturists and by their frugality and industry have attained a condition of general prosperity, in all compet.i.tion easily outstripping the more indolent Javanese, and often acc.u.mulating large fortunes.

[3] Sjofele, ragged or dirty; baba, a Chinese coolie. Sjofele baba indicates a good-natured contempt.

[4] Exposition of Javanese art held at Batavia in that year.

XLI

_July 12, 1902._[1]

Father and Mother have both given us their full permission. We had expected storms, thunder-claps, and lightning flashes. I cannot yet fully realize it. I had hoped that Father would consent, but I had not dared to dream that Mamma would stand by him. We have never been estranged from one another but things are clearer now between Mamma and us, this has brought us nearer together. I felt calm at first, but when Mother spoke to us in such a quiet, gentle manner, my calmness vanished.

I had so much in my mind that I had not thought over what I should say, but when it came to the point, the words fell as themselves from my lips. Who was it that placed the words ready in my mouth--Who?

There is a power higher and greater than all earthly powers put together. Good spirits were certainly hovering near putting the words in our mouths when we stood before her speaking for our ideals. Now I heard Mamma say, deeply moved, "Oh child, why have you not trusted me?" We have done wrong, not to have told Mamma everything. Poor, dearest mother, we are not worthy to kiss her feet.

I wish that I could tell you what Mamma has been to us all these long years, what she still is. Now we realize for the first time the debt that we owe to her. We owe her a world full of love and grat.i.tude; we are so thankful that we are going away from Mamma in peace, in the service of that Good that she herself knows and understands. We no longer express our joy openly as formerly, as we did only a little while ago. We are quiet now, but full of silent grat.i.tude.

I had prepared what I had to say to Father with the greatest anxiety. I do not know where I got the calmness and composure with which I spoke to him. My voice sounded strange to my own ears. I was unmoved, but when the permission for which I was pleading was granted, and I saw how much it cost my dear father, the ice-crust melted from my heart. I longed to throw my arms around him and speak words of comfort, but my knees trembled and my voice refused to do my bidding. I sat before him on the ground and looked at him with the mist before my eyes. I felt his pain and I suffered with him. O, some day I will repay for everything.

In my heart the prayer rose "Father, forgive me, O my Father, forgive your child, she cannot do otherwise."

It was on the twenty-first of June; I chose that day, your birth-day, for the difficult interview with Father. I wished to have you, my little Mother, with me in spirit. Good angels surrounded me, my Heavenly Father stood by me in my struggle against my earthly one. When I was alone once more and had gained my desire, there was no joy in my heart; there was only pity and sympathy for the sorrow of one whom I loved. My tears were for him. From the depth of my soul I prayed: "O grant that from this great sacrifice of my parents, flowers will spring up and fruit will grow for our land, and for our people."

On the same day, the twenty-first of June, we wrote to the Heer Van Kol at Batavia at his request. The letters contained our names, ages, and a summary of our ideas and wishes.

But we had to have our parents' permission, without that nothing could be done for us.

And now that this stumbling block is cleared from our way, we stand before a second--the financial one. Our parents cannot possibly afford the expense of our education; nor would we ask it of them. Yesterday I received a long and very earnest letter from Mevrouw Van Kol. If I did not need to keep it until it was answered, and if my unaccustomed fingers did not cling to it so, I should like to send it to you, but I shall try to tell you something of its contents. She has given us more than moral support, she has given us part of herself. We feel as though we had received a benediction. We are no longer afraid, we have no anxiety; we are at peace, we trust and we believe. Of what worth are we!

We are no more than the dust of the ground. We feel no jubilant, boisterous happiness, but a still, quiet joy. O G.o.d, we are so thankful that we have found Thee, that we have come through doubt, unbelief and materialism.