Letters of a Javanese Princess

long to be free, to be able to stand alone, to study, not to be subject to any one, and, above all, never, never to be obliged to marry.

But we must marry, must, must. Not to marry is the greatest sin which the Mohammedan woman can commit; it is the greatest disgrace which a native girl can bring to her family.

And marriage among us—Miserable is too feeble an expression for it. How can it be otherwise, when the laws have made everything for the man and nothing for the woman?

It takes me back to times of which I must not think. It makes me weak and sad

We think sometimes with reason, what is civilization? Does it consist in a commanding tone, or in hypocrisy

Without strength, all other good qualities are of little worth

Those who embittered our childish years, were also our teachers, for they taught us to avoid being like themselves. Another proof that sorrow justifies its existence.

Physical punishment embitters, but never cures. That is our conviction

Javanese language? It is difficult—certainly, but it is beautiful. It is a sentient language; often the words seem to be conscious, they express so much

gamelan never rejoices, even at the most extravagant festivals, its tone is mournful

There is no word for poetry in our language. We say "bloementaal," and is it not well said

There was once a child who went to an old woman who asked her what she would like to have, for the little one had neither sweets, nor ornaments, nor clothes; but the child said "Oh Mother, give me a flower that opens in the heart."