LETTERS OF A JAVANESE PRINCESS

By

RADEN ADJENG KARTINI

TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL DUTCH

By

AGNES LOUISE SYMMERS

WITH A FOREWORD BY LOUIS COUPERUS

LONDON: DUCKWORTH & CO.

First published in 1921

Contents

"When you sail from Chambra fifteen thousand miles on a coursebetween south and southeast, you come to a great island calledJava. And experienced mariners of those Islands who know the matterwell say that it is the greatest Island in the world and has acompass of three thousand miles. It is subject to a great King andtributary to no one else in the world. The people are idolaters.The Island is of surpassing wealth, producing black pepper,nutmegs, spikenard, galingale, cubebs, cloves and all other kindsof spices.

"This Island is also frequented by a vast amount of shipping, andby merchants who buy and sell costly goods from which they reapgreat profit. Indeed, the treasure of this Island is so great as tobe past telling."

Marco Polo.

NOTE

The letters of Raden Adjeng Kartini were first published at the Haguein 1911 under the title, "Door Duisternis tot Licht," (from Darknessinto Light). They were collected and edited by Dr. J.H. Abendanon,former Minister of Education and Industry for Netherland-India. Many ofthe letters were written to him and to his wife "Moedertje." Dr.Abendanon has given me permission to publish this English version, whichis a selection comprising about two-thirds of the original book.

I also wish to acknowledge my debt to Dr. Leonard Van Noppen, who, whenQueen Wilhelmina Professor of Dutch Literature at Columbia University,first called my attention to the book and told me something of Kartini'sstory.

A.L.S.

FOREWORD

When the letters of Raden Adjeng Kartini were published in Holland,they aroused much interest and awakened a warm sympathy for the writer.She was the young daughter of a Javanese Regent, one of the "princesses"who grow up and blossom in sombre obscurity and seclusion, leading theirmonotonous and often melancholy lives within the confines of theKaboepaten, as the high walled Regent's palaces are called.

The thought of India, or as we now say, perhaps more happily, Java, hada strange fascination for me even as a child. I was charmed by the weirdmystery of its stories, which frightened even while they charmed me.Although I was born in Holland, our family traditions had been rooted inJava. My father began his official career there as a Judge, and mymother was the daughter of a Governor General, while my older brothershad followed their father's example and were officials under theColonial Government.

At nine years of age I was taken to the inscrutable and far off landround which my early fancy had played; and I passed five of my schoolyears in Batavia. At the end of those five years, I felt the same charmand the same mystery. The thought of Java became almost an obsession. Ifelt that while we Netherlanders might rule and exploit the country, weshould never be able to penetrate its mystery. It seemed to me that itwould always be covered by a thick veil, which guarded its Eastern soulfrom the strange eyes of the Western conqueror. There was a quietstrength, "Een Stille Kracht"[1] unperceived by our cold, business-likegaze. It was something intangible, and almost hostile, with a silent,secret hostility that lurked in the atmosphere, in nature and above all