LETTERS OF A JAVANESE PRINCESS
I remember how embarrassed we were last year, when the ladies of the Exposition for Woman's Work called us the "Princesses of Java."
In Holland they seem to think that everything which comes out of India which is not a "baboe" or a "spada" must be a prince or a princess. Europeans here in India seldom call us "Raden Adjeng," they address us usually as "Freule."[1] I despair of its ever being different. I do not know how many times I have said that we were not "Freules" and still less princesses, but they have grown accustomed to the glamour and still obstinately call us "Freule."
Not long ago a European who had heard much of us, came here and asked our parents to be allowed the privilege of making the acquaintance of the "princesses"; we were brought out and shown to him as though we had been dolls; how stupid we felt!
"Regent," said he to our father, but quite distinctly before us—there was much disappointment in his voice—"at the word—princess,I thought of glittering garments, fantastic Oriental splendour, and your daughters look so simple."
We could hardly suppress a smile when we heard him. Good Heavens! In his innocence he had paid us the greatest possible compliment; you do not know what a pleasure it was to us to find that our clothes were simple; we had so often taken pains to put on nothing that would look conspicuous or bizarre.
Dear Stella, I am heartily glad that I seem to you like your Dutch friends, and that you find me congenial.
I have always been an enemy of formality. I am happy only when I can throw the burden of Javanese etiquette from my shoulders. The ceremonies, the little rules, that are instilled into our people are an abomination to me. You could hardly imagine how heavily the burden
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- ↑ In Holland honourary title given to the daughter of a nobleman.
