LETTERS OF A JAVANESE PRINCESS
rich spirit, reach your hand to us; help us out of this pool of grief and misery into which the selfishness of men has plunged us, and holds us fast. Help us to overcome the relentless egoism of man—that demon which for centuries has held the woman lashed, imprisoned, so that accustomed as she is to ill treatment she sees no injustice but submits with stoicism to what seems the "good right" of the man, and an inheritance of sorrow to every woman. I am still young, but I am not deaf nor blind and I have heard and seen much, too much, it may be, so that my heart is drawn with pain and I am swept violently forward in opposition to those customs and conventions which are the curse of women and children!
Helpless in bitter grief, I wring my hands and feel myself powerless to fight against an evil so gigantic! and which, Cruelty! is under the protection of the Mohammedan Law, and is fed by the ignorance of the women themselves, the victims of the sacrifice. Fate allows that cruel wrong which is called polygamy to stalk abroad in the land—"I will not have it," cries the mouth vehemently and the heart echoes the cry a thousand fold, but alas—to will! Have we human beings a will? It is always, we must, must do everything, from our first infant cry till our last breath.
Life is full of dark riddles and of secrets. We think that we know so much, and all the time we know nothing! We think that we have a will, an iron will, and picture ourselves strong enough to move mountains—then a burning tear, a sorrowful look from eyes that we love, and our strength is gone.
Let me tell you a story that is neither amusing nor interesting, but dull, monotonous and long drawn out, and which will demand much patience. First I ask your forgiveness, humbly, for the weary hour I am going to cause you.
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