I beg to present myzelf as the author of the book so benevolently mentionned in Your number of April 1868.
Concerning to certain question proposed by Your very esteemed referent on page 617, I dare assert frankly that the whole Havelaar with all its good en bad qualities, is effectively mine, and that I believe to be a poet indeed.
But the right dominium of poetry seems me to be truth, and even reality. The poet does not create. Just as calumniators he is but able to arrange, to set in order. He cannot but add form to the facts given by Nature.
As soon however as he feels himself disposed, or - as in my case - forced by circumstances to spend his attention on plain practical business, I don't think him less able as other people. We ought not grant him the sad right to stay beneath Prud'homme, even in the most ordinary problems whose solution can be required by whatsoever interest in individual or social life.
The common error of taking every fabricant of verses for a poet, has given birth to the cruel pretext to treat every poet as a fool, or something corresponding.
As to me, I protest earnestly. I try to cultivate as correctly as my week faculties allow the field of real truth, and feel a religious respect for the majestic simplicity of true reality. Facts don't lie: 2×2=4.
After this introduction I beg You not to wonder, Gentlemen, at my addressing myself to your kindness with a request of quite material nature.
For a few days I despatched to alle Governments of the civilised world the Circular of which I take the liberty to offer You a twenty copies. Would You be as complacent as to present them to the most influent Papers of your country, in order to recommend the adoption of the proposed measure, which seems me to be a - golden! - egg of Colomb.
Gentlemen! In Your article of April 1868, I could not omit to remark: heart! This my excuse for the boldness, for the indiscretion perhaps, of having implored Your assistance in my very difficult struggle against the Drystubble of Holland.