Through drinking that potion, I became the child of that Chinese divinity, Santik-Kong of Welahan. A year or so ago we made a visit to the holy one. There is a little golden image before which incense is burned day and night. In times of epidemic it is carried around in state to exorcise the evil spirits. The birthday of the holy one is celebrated with great brilliancy and Chinese come from far and near. Old Chinese residents have told us the legend of the golden image, which for them really lives.

Our land is full of mysticism, of fairy tales, and of legends. You have certainly heard many times of the enviable calmness with which the Javanese meets the most frightful blows of destiny. It is Tekdir--foreordained, they say, and are submissive. The fate of every man is determined, even before he sees the light of life. Happiness and misery are meted out to him before his birth. No man may turn away that which G.o.d has decreed. But it is the duty of every one to guard against misfortune as far as possible; only when it comes despite their efforts, is it Tekdir. And against Tekdir nothing in the world can prevail.

That tells us to be steadfast and to push forward and to let happen, what happen will, to submit calmly to the inevitable, and then to say it is Tekdir. That is why our people would not set themselves for ever against that which had actually happened. Brought face to face with a fact, they are face to face with Tekdir and are submissive. G.o.d give us strength.

We are in deep sorrow. We are preparing to go away from our loved ones.

To break loose the bonds which until now have been our happiness. But better a sound little hut than a castle in ruins, better a strong little skiff than to go in a splendid steam-boat and be driven upon a reef.

For a long time now I have had to go to bed without Father's good-night greeting. Until a few months ago, Father never went to bed without stopping first outside our chamber door, and putting his head inside to see his little daughter once more and to call her name before he went to rest. If the door was locked, he knocked, softly; his little daughter must hear and know that she was not forgotten.

Gone now is that dear, dear time. I have had much love--too much--all to myself. For when one has had too much, then there must be another, who goes lacking. Now it is my turn to do without. I have bathed long enough in the over-flow.

It is hard for me, but for him, my Father, I hope and pray fervently that he may be so fortunate as to banish me from his heart utterly. My poor, dear loved one will then be spared much misery. I shall always love him dearly in spite of everything; he is more to me than ever, and I am thankful for all the happy years that have gone by. But for my poor Father, it would be better had I never become a child of Buddha, he would then possess me wholly. Even though it were only in memory.

What Nellie said is true: "Life brings more cruel partings than death."

Those whom death takes away from us in the bloom of love and friendship remain more surely ours in spirit than those whom life leaves to us.

My dearest Father, that he should find this out in his old age and from his favourite child! May G.o.d forgive me, but it is not he alone who has suffered and who will suffer; we too have striven and suffered. We pray G.o.d fervently that in the course of time he may see the truth and will learn to be proud of his little daughters. That we may atone to him in some measure for the deep disappointment we are causing him now.

[1] To Mevrouw Abendanon.

[2] A half-breed woman, child of a native mother and European father.

[3] Formerly in Java convicts were released from prison to work the government lands.

LI

_November 21st, 1902._[1]

When we love, is it not our earnest wish that the object of our love should be happy? and those are happy who love and are loved in return. I am not speaking here of the love of man and woman; that is a delicate question and one that I am not capable of judging. But I mean a love which one can feel for many; and never mind how much for one, for another in just the same measure.

Is it selfish when we expect those whom we love and who love us in return, to rejoice in our happiness, even when it consists in the giving of our hearts to another?

[1] To Mevrouw Abendanon.

LII

_November 21st, 1902._[1]

Three of the four shelves of our book-case are plump full of books; the fourth we keep free for photographs and other souvenirs, so that we have all of our friends before us. You are between Mamma and Brother Kartono.

A little further away is Dr. Adriana, the learned man who is such a friend of humanity. Then comes a charming little creature, a pure, fresh, unspoiled flower of nature, whom we love very much. Papa, too, has a place of honour. You are in good company truly. And we have you with us--every day; in fact, the day has not begun for us until we have seen our friends and looked into their dear, true faces.

We have an idea that we shall see you just once, and that the meeting will be brief. A meeting--a brief greeting and then a--parting; all in a few moments of time. We shall catch, as it were, a glimpse of one another, and then vanish for ever--each from the other's ken. It is silly, but we have this idea and are not able to get it out of our heads. But why do we yearn for the personal, bodily meeting when the spiritual meeting is so pleasant? We ought not to need anything more--is not the spiritual the best in us?

What do you think of the j.a.paraesque fire-screen? It is splendid, is it not? Hail to all n.o.ble friends of Java, who brought the art of her people, and with it the beauty of their souls, into the light! We hope fervently that the interest now taken will not dwindle as has that in all too many other things, and that it will not prove only a fleeting fashion.

No, it shall not do that, although we realize that the majority of those who now show interest in our art do so only because it is the fashion; but those who gave the movement its first impetus did so from sincere conviction, and that will prevail in the long run.

You see, I should enjoy living so many different kinds of lives. I should like to be in a mining district--among mine workers; or in a native Christian community, among native Christians. In a Chinese or Malay camp, or what not. But above all I should like to experience life, as it is lived in Dessa and Kampong among our own people; that has always had a great charm for me. I know that my people would then grow still nearer to my heart. One cannot learn the soul of a people without living and working among them. The love that I have for our people is only a foretaste of what I should feel under more intimate circ.u.mstances. We try to come in contact with the people as much as possible. When we go out alone, we always stop and pay a visit to some of the Kampong houses. In the beginning they looked at us with strange, unfriendly eyes, but it is not so any longer.

A child's hand is quickly filled, so too is the hand of a childlike people. They are very sensitive to kindness and also have a quick sense of humour. Under the influence of a ready word which will bring a hearty laugh, a sullen karwei is changed into a cheerful human being. Every day for some months, we have had a gang of workmen from the water-staat on our place. They are busy building an addition to our house. We are going to have a splendid pendopo at our rear. During the rest hour, we often go and talk a little with the work-folk. Picture your sister, sitting on a heap of sand, surrounded by workmen who have almost no clothes on their bodies and who are smoking straw, or eating rice. Naturally we must begin the conversation, for an inferior would rather be silent a whole day than to speak first to his superior.

They work under the supervision of an "Indo."[2]

He is good to his people, who come and go freely in his presence, and are always treated with consideration. We often hear them make little pleasantries with the toewan, a certain indication that the "baas" is good to them. If they receive orders to work over-time, we never hear them grumble. That is pleasant, is it not? And this sinjo[3] might well serve as an example.

[1] To Heer E.C. Abendanon.

[2] Indo-European used commonly to denote a many-mixed blood.

[3] Sinjo from the Portuguese "Senhor," indicating master, used toward natives with European blood.

LIII

_December 12th, 1902._[1]

We think that your little table is the most beautiful of all the carved work that our Singo has done. A short while ago he was saved as though by a miracle, from a great calamity. Eleven houses near his own were burned to the ground. The cocoanut tree in his little garden was all ablaze, but by great good fortune his house remained uninjured. The whole village ran out to see the miracle and asked the lucky owner of the only remaining house, what "Ilmoe"[2] or "Djamat"[3] he had to protect him. For they thought, of course, that he had saved his house through some magic spell. No, he had no "Ilmoe" or "Djamat," nor magic spells, he had only "Goesti Allah" who had spared him for his own purposes. The day after the fire, the man came to us, and fancy! he thanked us for the preservation of his dwelling. He insisted that it was the power of our prayers for him that had kept his house from misfortune. Such nave and simple faith is touching.

I asked myself if it would be right to take away from these poor souls the simple faith that makes them happy. What could I give them in its stead? The stupidest person can tear down, but it is quite another matter to build up.

We have found so many charming qualities in our humble friends.

We were turned away for a long time from all religion, because we saw so much uncharitableness under its mantle. We learned, at first slowly; that it is not religion that is uncharitable, but man who has made what was originally G.o.dlike and beautiful, bad and ugly. We think that love is the highest religion, and must one be a Christian in order to love according to that Heavenly command? For the Buddhist, the Brahmin, the Jew, the Mohammedan and even the Heathen can lead lives of pure love.

A little while ago I received a letter from Dr. Adriani in which you would be interested. I told him what you had done for us, and he is so glad for our sakes. "What Mevrouw Van Kol has made you see," he wrote, "is the substance of all religion, the recognition of G.o.d as a person, not as goodness, but the Good."

There are many earnest things in his letter, I wish that I could read it to you and talk about it with you; I must answer it. Somewhere he says, "But I can see no other way, Christianity alone does not bring one happiness, only the personal love of G.o.d does that, of which Christianity is the symbol."

[1] To Mevrouw Abendanon.

[2] Magic power to obtain what one wishes.