CHAPTER XI.
The years passed with their vacations. One day at school I received an urgent telegram, telling me to come at once as Mr. Percy was very ill. The journey homeward was a sad one. Formerly they were full of joyful anticipation; this was full of grief and fear. He was very ill.He received me warmly and I attended him as an affectionate son would a beloved father. “Charles,” he said, “the end is coming. I am going to them. They are waiting for me. I shall soon be where there is no more sorrow, or parting, or dying any more forever. Be true to my teaching. I tried to do my duty. Pardon my mistakes. Come to me when you have done your work. God bless you my boy. God bless you”—and he was gone. Could my wish have been granted I would have gone with him to where there was no more parting forever more.
The last rites were performed and I was given the place of chief mourner, for all seemed to know how much esteem and love he had for me. Then I felt myself alone in the world; the halcyon days of my life were ended.
He had made his will very carefully, giving the details of his property, and except a few personal articles, including those precious photographs that he reserved for me, all was to be sold and the proceeds, with various stocks, bonds and several bungalows in which he had invested, were placed in the hands of trustees for me until I had reached the age of twenty-four years. Until then I was to receive sufficient funds for my support and I was to finish my school course. So I had money enough, but of what account is money when the heart is breaking?
On the days when I used to receive those blessed letters sadness overwhelmed me. No more letters to come. No more letters to write. This deprivation constantly revived my consciousness of the loss I had sustained, and during all the rest of my school life I could not overcome this terrible feeling.
My school days ended and with great regret I bade good-bye to some of my schoolmates and some of the teachers for they had endeared themselves to me by their kindness.
I was again alone in the world. I did not know that I had even one friend to whom I might turn for advice or comfort. I was conscious that I ought to engage in some profession or employment as other young men were doing, but which and what was the question. If I chose the Civil Service in the Government, it was necessary for me to go toEngland and pass an examination. I had no friend there, not even an acquaintance, so had no influence, and I learned that influence was everything even to get a chance to offer myself for an examination; so that profession was closed to me.
To become an officer in the army the same difficulties arose. I could not become a soldier as I learned that Eurasians were not accepted. In fact I had no liking whatever for the army, even had there been an opening for me. I always had a repugnance to taking life. I could not see a chicken killed without a sense of pain and to see a gasping fish just taken from the water gave me a shock. In my life I have gone out shooting and the more birds I killed, the greater the burden of sorrow I carried home, thinking of the number of lives I had destroyed when God had created them as well as me and that they had as much right as I to live. I never could realize any pleasure in what is called sport when life is involved. For a number of men, not to mention women, to chase a fox until he is worried to death and then let him be torn to pieces by hounds was always a cruel, fiendish business to me. Suppose some bigger brutes than these ladies and gentlemen, as they style themselves, should run them down with horses and hounds as in former times slaves were hunted, and tear them to pieces, what would they think of the sport?
Anent this subject one of the best English novelists makes one of his characters say: “The most blood-thirsty nation on the earth, you shed blood for mere amusement; we only shed it for some deep purpose, such as revenge, ambition and the like. You English are not happy unless you are killing something, if it is only a pigeon out of a trap; there is too much of the Saxon and the Dane about you. Again your chief outdoor amusement consists of galloping on horseback with a number of dogs, over hedges and ditches after a poor animal called a fox, and when you see the wretched, fagged-out creature torn to pieces by your dogs, you ride home satisfied to your dinner.”
It is bad enough to kill birds and beasts for our food, but to kill men, who, we are taught, have immortal souls, was and always has been, horrible to me. Adam Smith, inhis “Wealth of Nations,” says, “The trade of a butcher is a brutal one and an odious business.” If that can be said of a business which supplies necessary food for the people, what can be said of a trade for the destruction of human beings, to gratify the vanity or rapacity of a tyrant or people? To kill his fellowmen is the soldier’s business, for that he is trained, for that the church prays for him. The more men killed the greater the glory and the number of medals. Beautiful trophies for the judgment day—the souls of murdered men! The uncivilized, unchristian tribes show their valor by the number of human scalps hanging to their belts, and a “heap big Injun” is the one who has the greatest number of these tokens of death. Christian “big Injuns” use honors and medals instead of scalps.
Would not this be better? Say for all who are killed by a regiment let each soldier wear a blood-red stripe for each man slain. If very successful in their bloody warfare the stripes would be increased until their whole garments would be of one uniform, ruddy hue, and they would be “heap big Injuns” for all the world to look at. Their praises would be read and known instantly by all observers. Then, instead of worshiping one whom they style a God of Love, and one whom they call the “Prince of Peace,” why not be consistent and adopt a god of war, such as is Kali, the goddess of the murderers of India, and offer unto him the blood of their victims, as these people do to their goddess? Does it speak well for civilization, after thousands of years, and after nineteen hundred years of Christianity, that twenty millions of armed soldiers, belonging to the most enlightened and so-called Christian nations of the earth, should be waiting and expecting every morning an order to attack and destroy each other? And all anxious to flesh their weapons in the bodies of their fellowmen? If, after all these centuries, Christianity has culminated in such a condition of murderous intention, how long will it be before their “Prince of Peace” will come to reign?
Having such feelings about war and soldiering in my later years, I must have had something of them when Ileft school, and they prevented me from thinking seriously of a soldier’s life. I concluded that I would rather be a hermit in a forest all my life, living on herbs and wild fruits, and die thus, and go to my Maker without a spot of the blood of my fellowmen on my soul, than to be the greatest warrior that ever lived, though he could boast of having slain his thousands.
What of the responsibility of those who instigate war? The great poet says, “The king himself hath a heavy reckoning to make when all these legs and arms and heads chopped off in battle shall join together in the latter day and cry, all, “We died at such a place;” some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. I am afraid that there are few that die well, that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the king that led them to it.”
Well might the king say, in his remorse, “The lights burn blue, it is now dead midnight, cold, fearful drops stand trembling on my flesh. Methought the souls of all that I had caused to be murdered came.”
Another thing influenced me. A surgeon of the army remarked to me that the best soldier was one with a vigorous, healthy body, and only sense enough to obey an order and fire a musket.
I was not willing to suppose myself such a thing as that, an idiot, strong enough to stand up and be shot at, and with only brains enough to pull a trigger when told to do so to kill somebody. If I was to be such a soldier, then God, who created me with a mind capable of thinking and reasoning; Mr. Percy, in giving me an education; and I, in acquiring it, we all three had sadly muddled the business and made a damnable mistake somehow. So my warfare ended.
I then thought of the police service, but this was so like a twin brother to soldiering that I dropped it quickly. I was in no great hurry to choose a profession, as I was not obliged to work for a living, but considered it my duty, as well as pleasure, to seek to do what was best, so I went tothe station where my property was situated, and found a home in one of the houses with an excellent family, one of my tenants.
I had plenty of books, the gifts of Mr. Percy, each of them a true indication of his style of thought and belief. I ordered others, such as I considered would interest me. With them I lived. They were my best and most intimate companions. I have often thought that if I were cast away on some desert island, and had plenty of books, I could not be alone.
The middle part of each day I spent in reading; mornings and evenings in adorning the compounds and gardens of my several houses with fruit and fine trees, flower plants and shrubbery. I soon made a great change in the places, to the great satisfaction of my tenants. This gave me a great liking for botany, as I had scarcely heard of such a science in school, for there we were so much driven to study men’s rules and theories that we had no time to study what God had created.
This employment finished, I became restless with a desire to enter upon some profession or business for life. I thought of commercial business, and from what I knew of it I supposed it would give me a chance to use my brains; but I had no more idea of what it required than if I was the son of a lord. I knew nothing of book-keeping, for this was another of the practical things omitted in our school, and it sometimes puzzled me to see what I really had learned that was to be of practical use to me. If it be true, as some one has said, that the greatest knowledge is to realize how little we know, I concluded that I had reached that happy condition. It is true that I practiced a little book-keeping as required by Mr. Percy, but it was single entry, or rather two entries, cash received and cash paid out, and every pice I handled was in that account. Since then my acquaintance with even commercial men has led me to believe that single entry book-keeping is not a slight affair, for some forget to enter what you have paid them, and remember to enter what they did not pay you.
I concluded to make a trip on commercial life intent. I took me to the capital city of India with the highest ambition.At once I sought the papers with an advertisement, “A young man of good abilities and excellent education, etc.” Some letters were received to which I replied, and found that there was work enough, and that the salaries offered, ranged from the magnificent sum of fifteen rupees to forty rupees a month, and some of the parties expected me to keep a pony besides, as their’s was outdoor work. Some of these offers were made by white men!
The advertisement evidently useless, I got a city directory and wrote to a large number of the best mercantile houses, and as I had a very fair hand and did my best with the Queen’s English, I received a number of very polite replies in babu English asking me to call at a particular time, which I did in my best rig, as I came to know that a well-fitting suit of good clothes had a great deal to do with a first impression. Each kuli, and there were a number of them at every door, had to look at my card, and then several babus wished to know my business, until finally I reached the grand mogul of the place. Looking me over while I stated that I had received his letter asking me to call, “Yes, yes,” said he, “but since your letter came my partner has found a man.” The same thing happened in a number of places. That partner was always the one who was putting his fingers in my pie. Several asked me what salary I wanted. I replied that I wished to learn the business, so I would be satisfied with a hundred rupees a month to begin with, and they exclaimed something like this: “Great heavings! we can hire a dozen babus for that money.”
I kept up this “racket” for a number of days, as I became quite interested in learning this part of mercantile life. If it had been a matter of daily bread with me, perhaps I would not have taken the rebuffs so easily.
One day I ran across two of my schoolmates on the same errand. They were terribly down in the mouth or down at the heels, for they were completely discouraged, and their clothes had long since forgotten the press of the tailor’s goose, and their boots were in the last stages of decrepitude. They put me in mind of the fellows we read of in our Scripture lessons at school, who went down to Jerichoand fell among thieves. “Well, boys,” said I, “come over and dine with me, and we’ll talk over old times.” They did not look into their note-books to see how many engagements they had, or say, “We’ll think it over,” or “We’ll see,” in that kind of society style you know, but accepted at once. After making a short call on one of the merchant firms, I found the boys in my room. We had a good feed, the best I could get, and they told me their experience. They had been at so many houses, run the gauntlet of so many kulies and babus, and had been snubbed so often by the mercantile gentlemen that they had scarcely courage enough left to look in at the door of a house again. Through the friendly influence of the dinner they confided to me that they had trusted “an uncle” with their watches and most of their clothes, and their money was nearly all gone, and if they did not get work soon they would have to sleep in the park, and then have a chance of being accommodated with apartments at the workhouse.
“Yes,” said one of them, “if we were not Eurasians we could get situations at once, and one fat white face had the cheek to tell us that he would not employ Eurasians, as they were not trustworthy. How did he know that of us? It was a downright insult!”
Again he burst out, and as we had not had any liquor whatever, he was clear-headed, saying, “Hell and fury! Who made us Eurasians, I’d like to know?” “That’s it,” said the other, “who made us Eurasians?” and they brought down their fists so hard onto the table that the bearer rushed in to see what we wanted. At this I changed the subject to our school days, and inquired after the boys of our set. Before leaving I told them if they did not succeed in a day or two, to come to me and I would let them have money to go home with; for the sake of old times I would not have them “run in.”
I was such a simple innocent that it never once entered my head that I had been refused because I was an Eurasian. This reference of the boys opened my eyes, and I concluded to make some calls to see if what they said was really true. I was out again the next day. I did not care so much now for a situation as I did to know the effect ofthe color of my face. I had a roll of government notes in my pocket, and could draw for more when needed, so could face the kulies and babus without having that utterly forsaken walk and look of a beggar. As I entered one of the prominent offices I could not help thinking of what Mr. Percy would say, “Charles, be a man, in your looks and in every step you take,” and so I uprightly faced the grand panjandrum. I bowed politely, and said, “I am seeking a situation. I don’t care so much about the wages, as I wish to learn the business.” Looking me all over, as if I was some specimen from the zoo, he remarked, “I don’t think you would suit us.” “Will you be so kind as to tell me the reason?” I inquired, with as much suavity as I could command. I think my manner fetched him, for he said, “Take a seat, will you?” the first time a chair had been offered me in all my rounds. He replied, “Well, really, you know, I don’t like to say; for myself I think you would suit us, but, now, ahem! I hope you will take no offense, but the fact is, I am really sorry to say it, but my partners are opposed to having any Eurasians.”
“What reason have they?” I calmly inquired, that is, outwardly calm, but inwardly very uncalm. Said he, “Really, I don’t know, and can’t say; you will have to ask them, and I think they are both very busy, as it is mail day.”
What a lot of lies mail day is responsible for! He then began to fumble his papers, as if to say that my time was up, so I bowed and left, feeling in my soul that he was a liar, and at the entrance door I inquired of a babu about the partners, and he said that they had not come to the office that day.
But why prolong the story? I made out a list of the firms on whom I had called. There were all sorts of excuses, but the majority objected to employing Eurasians. One thing astonished me, that so many of them had wicked partners. Perhaps they were only imaginary dummies or office devils, to whom they could attribute all their sins. And most of these men were Christians in their way.
One morning I found an article in one of the daily papers that fitted so well with what the boys had said and with what I felt, that I cut out this paragraph. I was rather glad that they had not seen the paper, as I had furnished them with tickets-of-leave; or they might have been tempted to curse their fathers, which is bad business when it can be avoided.
“There is a prejudice against the Eurasians, both among the Europeans and natives. It is not surprising that the heathen natives, with all their old feelings about caste, should prefer to have their own people about them, but not at all creditable that Europeans, all probably calling themselves Christians, should despise and degrade a people who are a part of themselves and begotten by them. It is said that a person always hates the one he has injured. As a Saxon, I have often thought of what I would have felt, if my father had made me an Eurasian. For some months, every morning, there passed my house, a fine well built man, clad in native clothes, going to his work at five rupees a month. I frequently conversed with him and found him quite intelligent. It appears that his father a Scotchman, years ago, on coming to India took up a native woman by whom he had several children. When his time for furlough came he gave the woman a few rupees and said, “Salaam.” He married a beautiful Scotch lassie, she no doubt believing him to be a chaste Christian gentleman—and returned to India. Other children were born, were well educated, and these young Scotch Macdonalds are in the service receiving one thousand to two thousand rupees a month, while the other poor devil of a Macdonald has to be content with his five rupees. I often thought as I saw the man, that if my father had played such a scurvy trick on me, I would have cursed him by daylight and by candle light, month by month, and year by year, up hill and down dale to my latest breath and before high heaven I think I would have been right in doing so.”
Thus ended my mercantile life. It was all confined to single entry, as I never had a chance of making a double entry to any of the houses. I visited the libraries but itwas not worth while; being managed wholly by natives, what could be expected? the botanical garden and saw the great tree spreading out, as if it would protect and shelter everybody like the Indian Government, but very poor protection and shelter I found it, for during a storm that came on I had been better under a beggar’s thatch; then the Zoo with its monkeys, about as full of tricks as some of the mercantile men I had met, and the tigers not more merciful than many human animals; then to the Museum and to the Art School, where several hundred natives were being taught, but not an Eurasian! Poor devils! Why should the Government care for their education?
As I had failed in my main purpose, I endeavored to get all I could to pay for my trip. I got considerable mercantile experience, or rather experience of the mercantile character that has lasted me for life. I proved it to be true that experience is what a man gets after making a fool of himself a number of times, and as experience is about all we get in life, or take out of it, I tried to be satisfied.
One evening after returning from one of my trips and trying to analyze this antipathy, prejudice or hatred of the Europeans for the Eurasians I recalled this saying, “It is said that a person always hates the one he has injured.” I thought there may be a great deal of truth in this and further, the Europeans may look upon us as connected with themselves. We are constant, perpetual reminders of the lustful sins of themselves or their class. Even Lord Palmerston got to hating Punch for its continued pictures of himself with a straw in his mouth, and I have read that in a political campaign, caricatures have more power than argument. It may be the Eurasian pictures of themselves that the Europeans do not like. Who knows? What puzzled me then, and what my poor brain has never been able to comprehend is, that as nearly or quite all the Europeans I met were what are called Christians, how they could reconcile the hatred and oppression of a poor unfortunate class with their religious professions. I leave this to some head, wiser than mine to solve.