I returned to my home and to my books. These were true friends on whom I
could rely, and with whom I could find good society, especially as I had
my bread provided for. But what if I had been without books, without
money and could only eat my crust after I had earned it and unable to
get any work to do? This has often been one of my serious questions.
There is not a country on the globe where a European is so badly off as
in India, if he is without work and destitute of means and influence. I
have known a family of father and mother, with several sons and
daughters well educated. The father and sons tried to get employment but
failed. They offered to work at wages that would barely supply them with
the coarsest food, but this was denied them. They were at last reduced
to living on rice alone, the amount for the whole family of six not
costing four pence a day, and this they often could not purchase.
Another case was that of a man and his wife, well educated and of fine
appearance. He had invested all his money in a business that did not
pay. They sold their little property for almost nothing and then their
clothes. He could get no kind of employment, and at last they were so
reduced that the wife had to conceal herself in the hut where they
stayed, for want of clothes, and their almost starving heathen neighbors
gave them a few handfuls of rice to eat. An empty pocket and a naked
back are about the worst certificates a man can show to get employment
or position of any kind. Nobody wants such a recommendation, not even a
Christian. Accursed is poverty, for in proportion to his descent in
destitution, a man is less liable to receive anything. The rich, who
need nothing, have money thrown into their laps and positions thrust
upon them, but the greater a person’s necessities, the less he gets.
This is a strange contradictory world, yet this is also nature’s law.
The more you enrich a field the more it gives you in return, the more I
improve my bungalows, the higher rents I can get, but what is the use of
talking; the poor cannot grow fat on illustrations and arguments.
If the poor whites have such a struggle for life what must be the
condition of the destitute Eurasians who from their emaciated looks have
not even rice to eat?
Some months passed and again I became restless. I thought that in the
economic arrangement of nature in which everything has its function and
uses I also must have my place and work; that I, not less than an active
mosquito or a creeping snail, could not have been forgotten in the
universal plan.
I knew I must first fit myself for a position. As I had tried to learn
the mercantile business, so I thought of engineering. This was no sooner
considered than settled. Even if I did not find employment by it I would
have the discipline and knowledge of the science, so would lose nothing
and be a gainer by it. I entered an engineering college and passed
several successful and happy years without anything really worth
mentioning occurring except several incidents that were of great
importance to me.
The station was a small one, so the society was limited. The students
were rather above the average in ability; in fact there was not a sumf
among us. All had passed in the highest grades in school, so we could
stand erect with our heads upon our shoulders and act like men. We
called on the European families, were invited to their lawn and tennis
parties, took our share in the games, or rather more often got up games
of our own to enliven our hours of recreation and give pleasure to our
friends. During the last year of my course a gentleman, with his wife
and daughter, came to reside in the station. The daughter was about
eighteen years of age, finely formed, healthy and robust, of blonde
complexion, very good looking and to me, handsome. She had passed the
giggling stage of girlhood, if she ever had been in it. She was well
educated, intelligent and had read a number of good books.
From what I have read in English books, from what I have heard and the
little I have seen, it appears that most young women and many older ones
in society can dress finely, smile, giggle, dance, flirt, look pretty
and be or do anything but be sensible. The chief characteristic of this
young lady was her sensibleness. She seldom indulged in nonsense, but
when she did there was so much wit and real fun in it as to lift it
above inanity. I said she was a blonde, so my opposite, for I was rather
“soso.” I have heard the story of an Eurasian who in England was with
some unsophisticated girls, when one of them innocently remarked, “You
are very much tanned, are you not?” “Yes, I am,” said he. “When I was in
India I was out a great deal in the sun.” I think this is what has ailed
me, or something or other, perhaps the other, had made my complexion the
opposite of a blonde. Yet I think being opposite we were attracted to
each other for that—well, no matter—what’s the use of surmising? We
often met. I tried to talk as intelligently as I could to her, and I
think she reciprocated my efforts, for a number of times she mentioned
that she had found the books I had referred to and gave me their
opinions. I liked her for this.
One holiday when we were at a tennis party, a white, or rather a reddish
youth, still in the downy stage of adolescence, on a visit in the
station was of the party. I was standing a little aside, but heard the
youth ask the young lady to be his partner. She replied that she was
going to play with Mr. Japhet. “Well,” said he, “if you prefer that
Eurasian.” “You have no right to make such a remark as that,” she
replied with warmth. It was not prudent for me to appear as if I had
heard anything, and her choice of me and her reply helped me to restrain
my anger. But I remembered the youth, and why shouldn’t I? He was not
yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; “as a squash
before ’tis a peas-cod, or a codling when ’tis almost an apple.”
At first I liked her for her good sense and goodness, then I admired,
and then—but what’s the use of repeating the old, old story that has
been so often told since Adam looked upon Eve and saw that she was good;
and yet I will, for there is a pleasure in telling it—I loved her. By
that electrical, unseen, unheard power or means of conveying messages
from heart to heart that love has, I knew that she loved me. Nothing was
said between us about it, for what need was there of telling when we
both knew it all? After a while we talked as if the subject had been
understood and settled for some time. I will not relate what we said,
for nearly everybody knows our conversation all by heart; at least they
ought to.
Then the next question was about mama and papa. My dear little mama had
gone, and I was still Japhet in search of his father, so there could be
no trouble on my side, but hers? Aye, there was the rub. I had my
“doots,” as the Scotch say, and yet I was full of courage. She was a
fair lady and my heart was not faint. I concluded to attack the weaker
half of the family first, but I found my mistake, for she was the
stronger of the two when it came to heart affairs, as probably many men
have learned to their sorrow when dealing with what is called the weaker
sex. She listened most attentively, turning red, then white and so on,
the red coming like flashes of lightning. I saw this danger signal at
once, but love and courage made me go on. I had formed rather a tender
regard for this expected mother-in-law. So in the gentlest, most winning
terms and tones I could command, I plead my case. I saw and felt I had
no chance from my first word. My courage at last took to its heels and I
was trembling and powerless. It was one of the hardest and most trying
bits of work I ever had and I have had not a few. When I had finished
she said in angry tones, repressed like water bursting from a pipe under
a pressure of seventy pounds to the square inch:
“I am surprised! I am angry! How dare you think of such a thing? No,
never! I tell you, never!” Just then the other half came in, but he was
cold and rather mild and his better half remained on deck. In a word she
told him what I wanted but gave him no chance to talk. “No,” she
continued, “I tell you once for all. She shall never see you again.
Before I would let her marry an Eurasian I would shoot her.” “And I
would bury her,” said the other half.
As I did not want any shooting or burying, just then, I thought it best
to retreat, and having said, “I am very sorry,” departed.
It was sometime before I could realize what had happened. I have read of
the experience of people who had been nearly paralyzed by the shock of
an earthquake. They say it is impossible for the mind or words to convey
any idea of the intensely awful abject feeling that took possession of
them. It seemed to me that I had been through, or into or out of,
something of that kind. I do not remember whether I walked, or crept or
ran, but I left that scene of failure, anger and despair as soon as I
could, and who wouldn’t? My wits had all left me, like sunshine friends.
“When a man’s wits are gone, the heavens should open and take him away,”
but no heavens opened for me, and I was left to make the best of the
situation. When I thought of the young lady, of my love for her, I could
have been knocked down by a feather, or anything, for her sake, but when
I thought of that unattainable mother-in-law, and her cruel mean fling
at me, and of that cold-blooded masculine, offering his services as
sexton at the funeral of his daughter, I felt like swearing, and I will
not say that I did not use some good robust Saxon expletives, for
really, the occasion demanded it.
I think the Episcopal Bishop had a good idea when, in a convocation, he
became indignant over some wrong: “Mr. President, I think it is the duty
of this right reverend house to set forth a form of sound words to be
used by a man under strong provocation.”
In principle I am opposed to swearing, and then only in good, choice
language. I never take the name of God in vain, as that is a sin against
Him, and a crime against my better nature, and I detest the use of gad,
begad, ’swounds, ’sblood, ’sdeath, so many snobbish “Christian
gentlemen” are guilty of.
Darwin looks upon swearing as one of the most curious expressions which
occur in man; he considers that it reveals his animal descent, and looks
upon it as the survival of the habit in animals of uncovering the canine
teeth before fighting. I will not dispute this, but confess frankly that
I felt like uncovering my canine teeth, as no simple words could do the
subject justice. Neither anger or whimpering would accomplish anything
for her or me. I hardly knew what I did or did not do, for several days.
I could not attack the citadel, as I had no band of knights to aid me,
and had to subdue and smother my love and grief as well as my anger
allowed me. After several days, I received a letter clandestinely
dispatched by some bribed servant. She told of her love for me, that her
mother and father were furious, that her mother was to leave at once
with her for Bombay and England. She had begged them to let her see me
just once, but they declared it impossible, that they would bind her
with ropes, or lock her in a room, if she dared to think of such a
thing. “And all because you are an Eurasian! How could you help that?”
she added. Certainly? How could I help that?
She further wrote that she was going by the morning train, and wished me
to come, not to the railway station, where they would be watching, but
to stand on a hillock, near the track, where she could see me once more.
I was there. As the train passed she cried out to me, “You have all my
heart and love,” and she was gone. I was left in an agony of sorrow and
despair. How could I help being an Eurasian? Who made me an Eurasian?
How often have I repeated these questions? I often felt like cursing
him. It is said that Noah, the Patriarch, good enough to be specially
saved, cursed his son for his lack of parental respect, and Ham turned
black. My father, for Mr. Percy told me that I must have had one, did
the same for me and without any provocation on my part.
There was an interval of several weeks, just here in my life, that has
always been a blank to me. I must have been very ill.
My course finished, I received one of the best certificates of my
proficiency, and was soon homeward bound again. I was then anxious for
employment where I could use the knowledge I had acquired. I was
ambitious to go to the capital city to begin at the top. I wrote to the
Government of Bengal asking for a position and received the answer—“His
Honor directs me to acknowledge the receipt of your letter, and to state
that he does not deem it advisable to bring outsiders into this
province.”
This seemed to me very unjust, as his Honor himself was an outsider, but
he probably had in mind the saying, “Present company always excepted.”
Besides the babus were everywhere employed from Calcutta to Peshawar.
Have the rest of the people no rights? Are the babus so loyal or
superior to all others that they should be made the special pets of
government? I have often wondered why the rest of the people of India
submit to this injustice. There may come a time when the government will
wish it had friends in the place of these impudent Bengalis, and the
babus themselves will think Hades has burst wide open.
I wrote letters to various firms and all replied, “No assistants
required,” or, as some of them put in their printed slips, “No Eurasians
need apply.” So there was no help for it; to the books again! It was
everything to me that I had an income, but what of the thousands of poor
wretches who had neither money, income nor employment.
A year later the bequest of Mr. Percy was placed in my hands, and every
rupee accounted for. I invested in villages, and in various parcels of
ground in the station, on which I erected bungalows, one of which was
for myself, according to my own taste, with one room especially for a
library for the books that I had been accumulating.
All this gave me employment for several years, and I was quite happy. My
new house was the best in the station, and was better furnished, with
ample grounds, ornamented with every kind of shrubbery and flowers. It
became the envy of the station. The Commissioner of the Division wrote,
asking if he could rent it; then the Barra Sahib wanted it, and the
officers wished it for a Mess Koti. My refusal to all created quite a
feeling against me. Some one told somebody else, who told me, that the
“higher classes” considered the house too good for an Eurasian. I wonder
if they should accidentally get to heaven and find some of the lower
classes—Eurasians—there, whether they would blow up St. Peter for
letting us in?
I had numerous brushes with the magistrate; for he seemed determined to
annoy me because I had not let him have my house. My hedges were too
high or too broad. I should trim my trees, or should not trim those by
the roadside, which I myself had planted. When I had one of my houses
partly constructed he forbade the work to go any further, as I had not
obtained his permission to build, and besides it would obstruct the view
from his house, though it was five hundred yards away. I felt that all
this was petty, spiteful tyranny, and resisted as well as I could, but
of what avail? I might as well have quarreled with the man in the moon.
The magistrate had almost absolute power over affairs in the station,
and could be a despot if he chose. He was the Great Sahib, and he let
everybody know it, especially those he styled the lower classes. If he
could not carry out his plans in an open, manly way, he resorted to
petty tyranny that goaded one to madness. I had never met him, and all
his orders to me were made not in person or by letter, but through his
servants, which made it more annoying.
I was soon to make his personal acquaintance. One night, after dining
with a friend, I was walking homeward when I heard the screams of a
woman, or rather of a girl. I ran, and found two native policemen, one
holding each of her hands and dragging her along the road. They stopped
at once, and she begged me to have her released. They said they had
orders to bring good looking girls into cantonments, and they found her
on the road. I ordered them to let her go at once. They said they could
not do so. I insisted, and they replied that I should have to answer to
the magistrate for obstructing them. I took the girl to a friend’s
house, and told them to keep her concealed at my expense. The next
morning a servant came, ordering me to appear at the magistrate’s
bungalow. I went. As I entered, this worthy was sitting at his writing
table.
I said, “Good morning,” and bowed, but he made no salutation. His manner
and silence was very embarrassing to me, so I said, “My name is—” “Yes,
yes,” he interrupted, “I know you well enough; you are that damned
Eurasian who is always making trouble.” “But,” said I, and before I
could get in another word he retorted, “I don’t want a word from you. I
will let you off this time, but if you ever interfere with the police
again, I will give you cause to remember it,” and with a wave of his
hand, a servant opened the door for me to retire.
The seizure of this girl was a part of a damnable plan established by a
Christian government to supply victims to gratify the lusts of its
imported soldiery, and these soldiers probably all baptized, confirmed
Christians.
I sent that girl to a girl’s school, and paid her bills for years, which
I trust the Recording Angel has put down to the credit of my account.
All the Eurasians were my friends, all the second class whites, and I
had besides a number of acquaintances among the first grade. I had
several riding horses, the best that money could purchase, a fine
carriage, and several rigs of the best make, with horses to suit them. I
had a fine house and could give good dinners, no small item in making
friends, so some were glad to know me for that, if for no other reason.
Then I was greatly interested in sports, and was liberal in my
subscriptions, so that, having received my money, they could not well
overlook me, especially as they no doubt expected other favors to
follow.
One evening, near the band stand, I saw a number of ayahs, with the
children of the Mem Sahibs, and among them a very comely young woman,
evidently an Eurasian. My beloved magistrate was talking with the
children, but with his eyes on the governess. One, a young officer near
me, nudged another, and nodding toward the children, said, “The old
fellow is up to his tricks again.” The other smiled. The former asked,
“Do you know what he said when he came to dine at our mess on Sunday
evening?”
“No, what was it?” “Well, the Barra Sahib had read prayers at church in
the morning, so at the mess, just as we sat down to the table, he asked,
‘I say, Langton, by the way, who was that young woman in front at the
left this morning?’ ‘O, that was the Shaw’s governess,’ replied Langton.
‘By Jove! she is not a bad looking piece; though rather, don’t you
think, as if she had been too much in the sun?’ At which there was a
slight buzz among the younger set, and they looked at each other with
sly winks and nods, and Jeems, at my left, whispered to me, ‘The old man
may have the incapacity of age, but he evidently has not forgotten the
desires of youth!’”
I was disgusted—angry. Though I did not care a fig about the church and
its worship, yet I have always been a stickler for decency, even in a
church, or among my dogs. The thought of such a depraved thing reading
prayers—the Scriptures, styled sacred—and in what is called the house of
God, and while going through with his farce of worship, looking around
over the congregation to find some one on whom to rest his lustful eyes!
Evidently his eyes were not made for the good of his soul.
For several weeks I often noticed the Barra Sahib among the children, as
they seemed suddenly to have become special favorites of his; but he was
always near the governess.
Some months after this we lost our magistrate, for he was promoted to
the Commissionership of a distant province. The governess also
disappeared.