Several parents have already asked me to teach their children. Our idea is to open a school for daughters of the native chiefs here, if we can get a suitable teacher. If we could find a good governess, then she could care for the mental development of our children and also for the formation of their characters.
When everything is in good working order, could we not hope for a subsidy from the Government? The expenses of the school would be as low as possible; the children would receive their board and lodging free from us. Shall I write a letter about it?
The parents are full of confidence and are asking us to take their children. This is now our opportunity. We must begin. After a while I shall write to you at greater length about our plans. I have the fullest confidence that a girls" school, held by us at our home, under the direction of a European teacher with me as head mistress, would succeed.
We have great plans, and we would give anything to be able to talk this over with you and your husband face to face.
I am writing this at five o"clock in the morning. The children are awake and hanging over my chair; mother must give them bread and milk.
You must see our youngest just once; he is not yet two years old, but so intelligent. As I sat here, he came with a little footstool; it was too heavy for him to carry, so he dragged it to mother; mother"s feet must not hang. Then the darling child climbed on my lap. When I call the children to me, they fight to see which one shall reach me first, and our little sister brings me the spoons and forks.
The one who is naughty must not come to mother. They have the greatest fun when they bathe with me, and I too enjoy this more than anything else. It is such a pleasure to see the fresh, laughing little faces.
And now I am going to talk about myself. I have not thanked you yet for the many expressions of love which we have received from you of late. I was made so happy by the letter from your husband and yourself, which I received at j.a.para; my warmest thanks to you both. And you, Moedertje dearest, I kiss you heartily on both cheeks for your welcome greeting, which I found upon my arrival.
December, 16. Today I feel a great peace. A whole history lies behind it. And this letter must not go until I have told it to you.
Guess who has been staying here and who went away only this morning.
Mevrouw and Heer Bervoets, from Modjowarno. They had been to j.a.para to see my parents, who sent them here to us. It was an inspiration of Father"s, and we bless the happy chance which led those good angels here.
I had been anxious for a long time to make the acquaintance of this n.o.ble couple. My wish has been granted, and in what manner! I have always thought of them with sympathy, but now deep grat.i.tude is mingled with the sympathy.
Day before yesterday, my husband was cheerful and wide awake the whole day. At noon the Bervoets came, and he was so well that one would have little thought that a few hours later he would be lying desperately ill.
Much interested, it was past midnight before we took leave of our guests. An hour later, my husband was suffering from a violent indisposition; the sickness came suddenly, and in less than three minutes it was so severe that he hardly expected to see the morning. How I felt, you can easily imagine. I had Doctor Bervoets called. He had expected to leave the next morning at eight, but neither he nor his wife had the heart to go away and leave us in so much trouble; they would go at one o"clock instead. But even then they saw that my husband needed constant medical attention, and our doctor was away on a journey.
It was an acute case of colic; an illness from which my husband had never suffered before in his life. Yesterday at midday he began to mend, and fell asleep. You can imagine how thankful I was. This morning at eight o"clock, our new friends went away. My husband is improving steadily and is only very weary. At this moment he is sleeping quietly, and has been for a full half hour. G.o.d grant that he may soon be entirely well!
It is so strange that in her last days his first wife should have thought of me. She longed to know me, and to become friends with me. Her dream was to go to j.a.para and to take her children to me; she hardly laid my portrait out of her hand, and even on her last sick-bed she had it by her.
After she had departed, and her earthly pain was over, every one here, even the native officials, have had but one wish, which has now been granted since the eighth of November. That is why there was such general rejoicing when we came.
My husband received your letter with great pleasure. The horse trappings for "East and West" are ready. They are now packed and as soon as he is better, they will be sent. He has also several kinds of pea-c.o.c.k feather cigar holders, and we are looking for some examples of real La.s.semsche sarongs. We shall then see what we can do further for "East and West."
My husband thinks the idea of moving the j.a.para wood-carvers here excellent. He supports me warmly in that, just as he does in all my other projects. A handcraft school for natives has been one of his dreams all along.
My husband is anxious for me to write a book about the sagas and legends of Java. He would collect them for me, and we could work on them together--a wonderful prospect.
There is so much that he wants to do with me; on my writing-table several articles from his hand are already lying.
[1] To Mevrouw and Dr. Abendanon.
LXX
_Rembang, March 6th, 1904._
My Own Dearest Moedertje:
I wish that I could throw my arms around your neck, I long from my soul to tell you of my great joy, to make you a sharer in our splendid secret. A great, sweet happiness awaits me. If G.o.ds so wills it, toward the end of September, there will come one sent from heaven to make our beautiful life still more beautiful, to draw the bond closer and tighter that already binds us together. Mother, my mother, think of the little soul that will be born from our two souls to call me mother.
Can you picture it? I a mother! I shall make you, old Moedertje, I shall make you a grandmother! Will you come later on to see your grandchild? I shall not be able now to go to Batavia. Our plan was first to go on a journey this month, to take a month"s holiday. Now we must give up the idea. I am not able to travel, and when our little one is here, then, too, I may not travel. So I shall see Batavia no more, at least while you are there. And what would it be worth to me without you and Mijnheer? My husband is so glowingly happy because of this new life which I carry under my heart. That alone was wanting to our happiness.
LXXI
_Rembang, April 10th, 1904._[1]
Highly Honoured Friends:
It must have seemed strange to you to have heard from me in reply to your cordial letter, and to have had no word of acknowledgment for the splendid presents with which we have been so greatly pleased. If every thought sent to you had become a deed, what an array of letters you would now have! Forgive me, dear friends, that no word has gone to you long before this.
The change from a simple young girl to a bride, a mother, and the wife of a highly placed native official--which means much in our Indian life--is so great that I could think of nothing at first but of how best to fulfil my new duties. But that was not the only reason. Shortly after our wedding, my husband was taken very ill. After that I myself began to ail. Even now the Rembang climate does not agree with me. We live flat by the sea, but what, at j.a.para was an advantage, is here, at Rembang, a plague. Here we must have a care for the sea wind, which is very unwholesome, because it must first blow over coral reefs and slime before it reaches us. But let me thank you, also in my husband"s name, most gratefully for the magnificent presents which you sent to us at the time of our marriage.
The interesting painting, and the coloured photograph of Jena hang in our sitting-room, where my husband, who is a great lover of statues and pictures, keeps his art treasures. I look at them so often with great pleasure and then many loving, grateful thoughts fly to my friends in Jena. How charming of you to want to give me a "boomkoek," the German national cake, which no single festival in your country must be without.
That you were not able to express the thought in deeds, makes no difference to me. I appreciate it just as much as though it had become an accomplished fact.
And now I must tell you about my new life. You will be glad to hear of that, will you not? Because you take such interest in your Javanese friend, and have been so concerned about her future. G.o.d be thanked, your fears for me have proved groundless. A young wife writes you these lines, a wife whose happiness beams in her eyes and who can find no words adequate to express it.
My husband (and it is known through the whole of Java that I am different from others; yet he has bound himself to me) is not only my husband, he is my best friend.
Everything that I think has been thought by him too, and many of my ideas have already been expressed by him in deeds. I have laid out for myself a full life. I have planned to be a pioneer in the struggle for the rights and freedom of the Javanese woman. I am now the wife of a man whose support gives me strength in my efforts to reach the ideal which is always before my eyes. I have now both personal happiness and also my work for my ideal.
I know that you will both be pleased to know that your little Javanese friend of the turbulent spirit is now anch.o.r.ed in a safe haven. I wish that you could see me in my new surroundings. You know how little I cared for luxury and worldly position; they would have no value in my eyes, were it not that it is my husband who gives them to me. But they are means by which I may reach my goal more easily. The Javanese are deeply loyal to their n.o.bles. Everything that their chiefs desire is readily accepted by them. So now at the side of my husband I shall reach the hearts of the people much more easily.
The success of the plans for our school shows that I have their confidence.
We began to teach at home in j.a.para, and now our younger sisters are carrying on the work there. Our little school now has one hundred and twenty pupils, daughters of native chiefs. My sisters give them instructions. But here too I have begun our work; my own little daughters were my first pupils. So you see that the little Javanese are beginning to realize the dream of their girlhood.
[1] To Professor and Mrs. Anton of Jena.
LXXII
_Rembang, June 28th, 1904._[1]
We do not go out often, and we entertain very little, yet my life is always full. Splendid! I divide my days between my dear husband, my housekeeping, and my children--both my own and the adopted ones. And these last take the largest share of my time and attention. When father is at work, then the children work with me from nine until twelve o"clock. At half-past twelve, father finds a troop of clean-faced but very hungry children. At half-past one the little ones are sent to bed,[2] and if father is in bed, and I am not too tired, I work with the young girls. At four o"clock I preside at the tea-table. When the little ones have drunk their milk and have bathed, they can drive the fowls to the coops, or walk with us, or play in the garden. We amuse ourselves for a little, and prattle about everything or about nothing.