PREFACE.
Max Havelaar was published a few years ago, and caused such a sensation in Holland as was never before experienced in that country. The author wrote it under the pseudonym of Multatuli, but his real name, Eduard Douwes Dekker, formerly Assistant Resident of the Dutch Government in Java, at once became known. Full of fire, and overflowing with enthusiasm, the author presented it to his countrymen in the form of a novel, —a book wherein he made them acquainted with the incredible extortions and tyranny of which the natives of the Dutch Indies, “that magnificent empire of Insulind, which winds about the equator like a garland of emeralds,” are the victims, and how he tried in vain, while still in the service of the Government, to put an end to the cruel oppressions that happen every day in those countries. Though some considered his book to be merely an interesting and captivating [[vi]]novel, the author maintained that it contained nothing but facts. He boldly asked the Dutch Government to prove the substance of his book to be false, but its truth has never been disputed. At the International Congress for the promotion of Social Sciences at Amsterdam, in 1863, he challenged his countrymen to refute him, but there was no champion to accept the challenge. In short, Mr. Douwes Dekker, who had been a functionary in the service of the Dutch Government for the space of seventeen years, rather understated than overstated the truth. Not a single fact was ever contested in Holland, and he is still ready to prove his statements.[1] In the Dutch Parliament nobody answered a single word, but Mr. Van Twist, ex-Governor-General of the Dutch Indies, who, on being appealed to by the Baron Van Hoevell, said that he could perhaps refute Max Havelaar, but that it was not his interest to do so.
The book proves that what was formerly written in Uncle Tom’s Cabin of the cruelties perpetrated upon the [[vii]]slaves in America, is nothing in comparison to what happens every day in the Dutch Indies.
“Max Havelaar” is the name under which the author chooses to describe his experiences in the East; in the first chapters of the book he has just returned from India, and he meets an old school-companion, at that time a coffee-broker, a Mr. Drystubble. This Mr. Drystubble is very rich, and the author being just then very poor, the latter asks his old school-fellow to be security for the publishing of his book. At first Mr. Drystubble will not hear of this, but afterwards, when he perceives that it will be of some advantage to himself, he consents. Drystubble is a very characteristic person, knowing nothing beyond his trade, a great egotist, and is represented by the author with true wit and humour, in order to show the extreme contrast between himself and … some of his countrymen, whom he may perhaps have met with since his return from Java. At that time the author wears a plaid or shawl, and Mr. Drystubble therefore speaks always of him as Mr. Shawlman. A few months after the publication of Max Havelaar, one of the most eminent members of the Dutch Parliament avowed that this book had struck the whole country with horror. In vain the Dutch tried to [[viii]]make a party question of it. The author openly declared that he belonged neither to the Liberal nor to the Conservative party; but that he placed himself under the banner of RIGHT, EQUITY, and HUMANITY. As soon, however, as he professed to be a mere friend of mankind, without bias to any political party, the official world avoided even to pronounce his name, and affected to have forgotten the man whose conduct had before been considered as a reproof, and whose influence menaced danger to people in place. Instead of accepting the challenge, it seemed more worthy to fight the battle out with the vile weapons of abuse and slander. Of course the reader will not regard Mr. Drystubble’s nonsensical and hypocritical observations as the sentiments of our author. It is precisely Multatuli’s intention to make Drystubble odious, and his philosophy absurd, though sometimes he speaks truth and common-sense—for he is a type of a part of the Dutch nation.
So much for the tendency of the book. Need I say that it will do honour to the literature of any language, and that it may be read as well for profit as for amusement? But Max Havelaar is immortal, not because of literary art or talent, but because of the cause he advocates. I think that every one who admires Harriet Beecher Stowe’s [[ix]]immortal pleading, ought likewise to read Multatuli’s accusation. I compare Max Havelaar to Uncle Tom’s Cabin, but I do not compare Multatuli, the champion and the martyr of humanity and justice, to Mrs. Stowe, for I am not aware that that lady, with all her merits, has sacrificed future fortune, and all that makes life agreeable, for a principle—for right and equity—as has been done by Eduard Douwes Dekker. Max Havelaar bears evidence of having been written by a genius of that order which only appears at long intervals in the world’s history. His mind embraces in its intellectual compass all mankind, regardless of race or caste. By the diffusion of this book a bond will be formed embracing all lovers of genius and justice throughout the world.
It was the intention of the author to have had his work translated into all the European languages. Unfortunately he unwittingly disposed of the property of his own book, and if it had not thus been “legally” withheld from the people of Holland, it is probable that I should not have been its translator; but I have been constrained to make known as widely as possible the sad truth regarding the mal-administration of laws in themselves good, by the Dutch Government in her Indian dependencies. To the British nation the facts will be new, as the books published [[x]]in England on Dutch India are few in number, superficial in character, and give no idea of the condition of the native population. I cannot judge of English politics or about British India, but however perfect British rule may be, it cannot be so perfect that it has nothing more to learn.
ALPHONSE JOHAN BERNARD HORSTMAR NAHUIJS.
The Hague,
January 17, 1868. [[xi]]
[1] Mr. Veth, the well-known learned Orientalist at Leyden, who made a special study of Indian matters, declared that Multatuli understated the truth, and quoted many authors, such as Mr. Vitalis and others, who had published accounts of scenes and facts much more shocking than he had depicted. Mr. Veth complimented Multatuli upon his moderation, saying that he displayed a mastership of art in not exhausting the subject. [↑]
TO
Everdine Huberte, Baroness Wijnbergen.
“J’ai souvent entendu plaindre les femmes de poëte, et sans doute, pour tenir dignement dans la vie ce difficile emploi, aucune qualité n’est de trop. Le plus rare ensemble de mérites n’est que le strict nécessaire, et ne suffit même pas toujours au commun bonheur. Voir sans cesse la muse en tiers dans vos plus familiers entretiens,—recueillir dans ses bras et soigner ce poëte qui est votre mari, quand il vous revient meurtri par les déceptions de sa tâche;—ou bien le voir s’envoler à la poursuite de sa chimère … voilà l’ordinaire de l’existence pour une femme de poëte. Oui, mais aussi il y a le chapître des compensations, l’heure des lauriers qu’il a gagnés à la sueur de son génie, et qu’il dépose pieusement aux pieds de la femme légitimement aimée, aux genoux de l’Antigone qui sert de guide en ce monde à cet ‘aveugle errant;’—
“Car, ne vous-y-trompez-pas: presque tous les petit-fils d’Homère sont plus ou moins aveugles à leur façon;—ils voient ce que nous ne voyons pas; leurs regards pénètrent plus haut et plus au fond que les nôtres; mais ils ne savent pas voir droit devant eux leur petit bonhomme de chemin, et il seraient capables de trébucher et de se casser le nez sur le moindre caillou, s’il leur fallait cheminer sans soutien, dans ces vallées de prose où demeure la vie.”
(Henry de Pène.) [[xii]]
OFFICER. My Lord, this is the man who murdered Betsy.
JUDGE. He must hang for it. How did he do it?
OFFICER. He cut up her body in little pieces, and salted them.
JUDGE. He is a great criminal. He must hang for it.
LOTHARIO. My Lord, I did not murder Betsy: I fed and clothed and cherished her. I can call witnesses who will prove me to be a good man, and no murderer.
JUDGE. You must hang. You blacken your crime by your self-sufficiency. It ill becomes one who … is accused of anything to set up for a good man.
LOTHARIO. But, my Lord, … there are witnesses to prove it; and as I am now accused of murder.…
JUDGE. You must hang for it. You cut up Betsy—you salted the pieces—and you are satisfied with your conduct,—three capital counts——who are you, my good woman?
WOMAN. I am Betsy.
LOTHARIO. Thank God! You see, my Lord, that I did not murder her.
JUDGE. Humph!——ay——what!——What about the salting?
BETSY. No, my Lord, he did not salt me:——on the contrary, he did many things for me … he is a worthy man!
LOTHARIO. You hear, my Lord, she says I am an honest man.
JUDGE. Humph!——the third count remains. Officer, remove the prisoner, he must hang for it; he is guilty of self-conceit.
(Unpublished Play.)
[[1]]