Letters of a Javanese princess/Chapter 29
XXIX[1]
December 31st, 1901.
WE do not want to sail any longer upon a weak ship, something must be done for this great, this unhappy cause. We should be satisfied if only the attention of the intelligent world were fastened upon it. Many times have I talked with women, both with those of the nobles and those of the people, about the idea of an independent, free, self-supporting girl, who could earn her own living; and from each one comes the answer, "There must be some one who sets the example."
We are convinced that if one has but the courage to begin, many will follow her. There must always be a beginning. One must go first to show the way, and the example must be good ; each one waits for the other; no one dares to be first. The parents too wait for one another to see which one will have the moral courage to allow a daughter to become independent and self supporting—to stand by herself.
We know a Regent's daughter, our own age, who is also full of enthusiasm for the idea of freedom. She is crazy to study; she speaks excellent Dutch, and has read a great deal. She is the daughter of the Regent of Koetoardjo. There are two great girls, charming children; we are very fond of them. I know from a teacher, an acquaintance of ours, that the older girl is crazy to study. She has told me herself that she is very anxious to go to Europe. The second sister also is a dear, clever child. A few years ago they were at our house on a visit. When they first came, they began to draw and paint with us, and now the younger one paints very well. Their father has a great respect for an educated woman. We know another one of his daughters, who is married; she speaks no Dutch, but she has gone further than the others. She has a great admiration for the free, independent European woman; she would think it ideal if we could have the same conditions in our native world.
Another Regent's daughter has been here; she is a Sundanese girl; she does not speak a word of Javanese, but she was brought up with Europeans, so we talked in Dutch.
The first question that she asked me was, "How many mothers have you?" I turned to her in pained astonishment, and she went on (do not be shocked) "You know that I have fifty-three mothers and there are eighty-three of us. I do not know the majority of my brothers and sisters. I am the youngest, and never knew my father; he died before I was born."
Is not that deeply, deeply sad? In the Preanger, girls of noble birth are free to choose their own husbands, and many of them even know the man to whom they are betrothed. The young people meet one another, and become engaged after the European manner. Blessed land—and yet—!
There is a girl, a grand-daughter of a Regent, (her parents are dead) who has had a splendid bringing up, and if her teacher is a good judge, must be a wonder of learning. She plays the piano well, etc. She became engaged after the European manner and married some one, who had many wives, and a whole troop of children; some of them full grown. I knew one of her step-daughters, a charming little woman who speaks Dutch and is the mother of a two year old child. She was seventeen years old, a year or two younger than her step-mother She told me that she chose her husband herself and was very happy.
The idea of publishing all that I think and feel about conditions among our Mohammedan women, has been with me for a long time. I thought of putting it into a book, in the form of letters between two regents' daughters — a Sundanese and a Javanese. Already I have written several letters, but I shall not go on with it at present. It will be perhaps some years before I can finish it, but I shall not give up the idea. That too was suggested by Mijnheer. The great difficulty is that father would not allow me to publish such a book. "It is good for you to be versed in the Dutch language," says Father, "but you must not make that an excuse for telling your inmost thoughts."
We girls must have no ideas, we have but to think that everything is good as we find it, and to say "yes" and "amen" to everything.
I was asked a few years ago, by a Dutch authoress of reputation, editor of a Woman's Journal, with whom I correspond, and whom I like very much, for permission to publish a letter in which I had touched upon these questions. The publication of private opinions such as mine, would be good for the cause, she thought. She would have kept my identity a secret, name, dwelling place, everything would have been concealed. Only those places would have been mentioned, wherein I allude to certain peculiar customs of my country. The letter was sent back to Java, so that it could be shown to Father. He said that it must not be published; "later perhaps." I knew what that "Later" meant. It meant that when I should have become harmless, by having the Raden Adjeng changed to Raden Ajoe.
Lately we had the same thing over again. Mevrouw Ter Horst, founder and editor of the Indian Woman's Journal, The Echo, sent me her paper. She knows personally much about the life of the native woman, and has great sympathy for the well born girls in the Vorstenlanden [2] who are given away like so many presents. She wanted me to begin a series of articles, "Talks between two Regent's daughters." Secrecy, should it be necessary, was absolutely assured with her. She also thinks that it would be a good idea to write sketches of the life around us. I gave the letter to Father, hoping for his permission, which was again denied. I must not tell my ideas too early, always it is "Later."
The Heer Boes, of Probolingo, wrote to Father and asked if I might write some articles for his paper, De Nederlandische Taal, a periodical for natives.
The Heer Boes asked for a reply, and sent me a list of subjects that he would like to have treated, such as, "Native Education for Girls"—"Native Art," "Useful Native Institutions."
At that time we had gone to Batavia. So many things came up after that I could not write, I was in such trouble that my pen refused to go. And I hoped that each day would be better than the one that had gone before. But the next day would be just the same, and I would tear up what I had tried to write; that was stupid. But I was beside myself with waiting and delay. I was in despair. I was to be allowed to write only nonsense, earnest things I must not touch upon.
Then I began to think that if I did write upon serious subjects, I should have the whole native world against me; if I became a teacher, the people would not trust their children to me. I should be called crazy. The idea of serving our cause with my pen is so dear to me, and yet picture to yourself a school without children, a teacher without pupils!
But we have not gone as far as that. We must have education first. For that we must first obtain Father's permission, and.then we have to present our petition to the Governor General.
We must not count too much upon the success of our suit. And if it should fail, God, what then? There remains only one thing for us, to become accoucheuses; we should then have to give up our hope of being examples and of lighting the way for others, for then we could be of service only to a few. But we think that would be far better than just to be book-keepers, apothecaries' apprentices, or something of that kind. Work in which our lives should be so barren, so empty, we should be living only for ourselves, and we want to live for the good of society as a whole.
I have information about the Government school of Obstetrics at Amsterdam, where one can be educated for that profession absolutely free of charge. We should have to have the help of Prof. Hector Treub.
The course lasts two years. How should we be able to get to Europe? We do not know. Some way must be found.
We will not go into that, until we have exhausted every means in our power towards the carrying out of our other plans.
Alas, if we could but get into communication with our own educated young men, men like Abdulli Rival and others, and win their sympathy for our cause. When will the time come when boys and girls, men and women shall look upon one another as equal human beings, as comrades? As it is now — Bah! how we women are degraded at every turn, again and again.
- ↑ To Mevrouw Abendanon.
- ↑ Vorstenlanden (Princes' countries) name given by the Hollanders to the central province of Java comprising the Residences of Soerakaarta and Djokjakaarta. Nominally it is a principality and is divided between two native princes, the Soeshocman of Soerakaarta and the Sultan of Djokjakaarta. whose power has been so reduced by the concessions which they have been forced to make to the Dutch Government that only its shadow remains. This semblance of power is encouraged by the Hollanders for diplomatic reasons, though the Sultan is virtually a prisoner in his own palace.Soerakaarta and Djokjakaarta form the last remnant of the ancient Hindu kingdom of Mataram to which originally the name Java was given.