Page:Max Havelaar Or The Coffee Sales of the Netherlands Trading Company Siebenhaar.djvu/285

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
Max Havelaar
269

only have force as evidence for those who had the patience to read them through with attention and interest, which cannot be expected from a public that reads for diversion. For this reason, instead of dry names of persons and places, with dates, instead of a copy of the list of thefts and extortions which lies before me, instead of these I have endeavoured to give a sketch of what may pass in the hearts of the poor people who are robbed of that which has to serve for their maintenance, or I have even only allowed this to be guessed, fearing that I might be too greatly mistaken in delineating emotions which I never experienced.

But as to the main point? Oh, that I were but summoned to prove what I have written! Oh, that they might say: “You have invented this Saïdyah . . . he never sang that song . . . no Adinda ever lived at Badoor!” But then also, might it be said with the power and the desire to do justice, as soon as I had given the proofs that I am not a slanderer!

Is the parable of the good Samaritan a lie, because perhaps no robbed traveller was ever received in a Samaritan house? Is the parable of the Sower a lie, because no husbandman would cast his seed on a rock? Or—coming down to a level nearer to my book—may one deny the truth which is the main point in Uncle Tom’s Cabin, because perhaps there never was an Evangeline? Shall it be said to the writer of that immortal plea—immortal, not on account of art or talent, but because of its tendency and the impression made by it—shall it be said to her: “You have lied, the slaves are not ill-treated, for . . . there is untruth in your book: it is a novel”? Was not she also compelled to give, instead of an enumeration of dry facts, a story that clothed those facts, so that the realization of the need of reform might penetrate to the hearts? Would her book have been read, if she had given it in the form of a court-case? Is it her fault—or mine—that the truth, in order to gain access, has so often to borrow the guise of a lie?

And to others who will perhaps contend that I have idealized Saïdyah and his love, I must put the question: “How can you know