De stille kracht. English

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The mysticism of concrete things in that island of mystery whichis Java!... Outwardly the docile colony with the subject race,which was no match for the rude trader who, in the golden age of hisrepublic, with the young strength of a youthful people, greedy andeager for gain, stout and phlegmatic, planted his foot and his flagon the crumbling empires, on the thrones which tottered as thoughthe earth had been in seismic labour. But, deep in its soul, it wasnever subjected, though smiling in proud, contemptuous resignationand bowing submissively beneath its fate; deep in its soul, despitea cringing reverence, it lived in freedom its own mysterious life,hidden from western eyes, however these might seek to fathom thesecret--as though with a philosophic intention of maintaining beforeall a proud and smiling tranquillity, pliantly yielding and to allappearances courteously approaching--but deep within itself divinelycertain of its own views and so far removed from all its rulers'ideals of civilization that no fraternization between master andservant will ever take place, because the difference which fermentsin soul and blood remains insuperable. And the European, proud inhis might, in his strength, in his civilization and his humanity,rules arrogantly, blindly, selfishly, egoistically, amidst all theintricate cog-wheels of his authority, which he slips into gear withthe certainty of clockwork, controlling its every movement, till tothe foreigner, the outside observer, this overlordship of tangiblethings, this colonizing of territory alien in race and mind, appearsa masterpiece, a very world created.

  But beneath all this show the hidden force lurks, slumbering now andunwilling to fight. Beneath all this appearance of tangible things theessence of that silent mysticism threatens, like a smouldering fireunderground, like hatred and mystery in the heart. Beneath all thispeace of grandeur the danger threatens and the future mutters like thesubterranean thunder in the volcanoes, inaudible to human ears. Andit is as though the subject race knew it and were leaving matters tothe latent force of things and awaiting the divine moment that is tocome if there be any truth in the calculations of the mystics. As forthe native, he reads his overlord with a single penetrating glance;he sees in him the illusion of civilization and humanity and heknows that they are non-existent. While he gives him the title oflord and the homage due to the master, he is profoundly conscious ofhis democratic, commercial nature and despises him for it in silenceand judges him with a smile which his brother understands; and he toosmiles. Never does he offend against the form of slavish servility;and, with his salaam, he acts as though he were the inferior, but he issilently aware that he is the superior. He is conscious of the hidden,unuttered force; he feels the mystery borne upon the surging winds ofhis mountains, in the silence of the secret, sultry nights; and heforesees events that are as yet remote. What is will not always be;the present is disappearing. Dumbly he hopes that God will lift upthose who are oppressed, some time, some time in the distant adventof the dawning future. But he feels and hopes and knows it in theinnermost depths of his soul, which he never unlocks to his ruler,which he would not even be able to unlock, which always remains anindecipherable book, in the unknown, untranslatable tongue in whichthe words indeed are the same but the shades of meaning expressedby them are different and in which the manifold hues of the twoideals show different spectra: spectra in which the colours differas though given forth by two separate suns, rays from two separateworlds. And never is there the harmony that understands; never doesthat love blossom forth which is conscious of unity; and betweenthe two there is always the gap, the chasm, the abyss, the distance,the width whence looms the mystery wherefrom, as from a cloud, thehidden force will one day flash forth....

  So it was that Van Oudijck did not feel the mysticism of tangiblethings.

  And the serene life, as of the gods, might well find him weak andunprepared....