That Eurasian

by Aleph Bey

I boarded an old P. and O. boat, far too slow to suit me. One day I suggested to the captain that a little more speed would not hurt any passenger’s feelings. He then coolly and deliberately began a calculation, or rather a rehearsal of what he had probably told a thousand times, of the amount of coal it took for a ten mile speed, and the ratio of increase of coal for every mile of increased speed. What did I care about his coal bill? It was heartless in him to talk in that cold way about his coal. What did he know about Leadenhall street, or why I was going there? Nor would I have told him for all his old boat was worth. It is said that physicians, by their constant acquaintance with suffering and grief, become as insensible to them as wooden men; so, probably, these captains, so familiar with the heart longings of their anxious human freight, become as indifferent to them as the dummy at the bow of the boat is to the rush of the waters.

There was no help for it. So many days had to be consumed to save consuming extra coal, while my heart was consumed by insatiate longings. I had my doubts and my fears, for who has not in such enterprises? though before I started I was so positive about the matter. I wished I had not resorted to any tricks, as we always do in such cases; may be I was making a fool’s journey, may be some luckier fellow would carry off the prize while I was lagging along at a snail’s pace. But what gave me a little comfort was, that there were others in a worse predicament than I was, going at a venture, not knowing when and where, afraid that not a girl in the United Kingdom would have them, so I consoled myself somewhat. This is a strange thing in human life, that no one ever finds himself in such a plight but he knows some other worse off than himself. I have never yet found the last man in the line who could not look down upon some one lower than himself.

It is not pleasant to relate what is derogatory to myself, but a strict regard for truth compels me to state that my situation on board the steamer was far from agreeable. There were a number of English, military and civilians, as passengers, returning home. Nearly all of them shunned me with a cold disdain, as if I was some outcast unworthy of their notice or regard. I overheard several inquiries as, “That Eurasian; who is he?” I had become so accustomed to this kind of treatment, hardened to it, that I cared very little about it; as long as they dropped me and let me alone, I did not care either for their smiles or their sneers. This statement is only partly true, for I could not help thinking and feeling on the subject. I could not, however, bear so easily their treatment of another passenger. He was a very quiet, unassuming gentleman, of fine appearance and well dressed. He was not an Englishman; that was evident at first sight, nor did he belong to any of the nationalities subject to Great Britain, but it soon appeared, by the remarks of some of the English, that he was an American. He did not intrude upon them, but several of the military officers seemed to take special pleasure, even during the first day out, in making offensive remarks about Americans. They continued this throughout the voyage.

This gentleman could not appear on deck anywhere near these swells but they would address him with a sneer, and in a mimicking nasal tone, about something connected with his country and its people. As I had never met an American, I could not understand these allusions, and they seemed to me most discourteous and unbecoming from a set of men who pride themselves upon being gentlemen. He certainly gave them no cause for such remarks, for in his language, voice, courtesy and intelligence he was the superior of all on board. He bore all their banter and sneers very quietly, and isolated himself as much as possible, as if he was a pariah to these high-bred people, as I was. We naturally came together, which was most fortunate for me, and we spent many an hour in some quiet corner. That he was a man of fine natural ability and education was self-evident. He had traveled much and seen most of the countries of the world, and made good use of his observation. He could talk of history, science, art, manufactures, agriculture and literature. He was an all-round man and full of information in regard to the countries and people he had seen, and abounded in anecdotes which whiled away my time very pleasantly. What the rest lost I gained by his acquaintance. I am not quite a misanthrope, for I have as much admiration for some men as I have dislike for others. I am a good admirer as well as a good hater.

One day as we were seated in the shade of one of the boats several of the cads came along, and one of them remarked, talking through his nose, “Wall, stranger, I guess you don’t have such kind of weather in America!” My friend made no reply whatever, and the trio left us. I referred to his quiet way of treating these fellows. He said “I have found that the much better way is not to notice the disagreeables.” This hit me, but no matter. “If one was to notice every puppy that snips at his heels, he would have little time for anything else. It is the English nature to make themselves disagreeable to foreigners. Everywhere, all over the world, the same story is told of them, that they are always sneering at what does not belong to their country, their people and their set. They are born grumblers. They have a special dislike to Americans. Why, I do not understand. It is true that many Americans have peculiarities, but so have the English, and even more noticeable than those they ridicule in us. In fact there is not a man or woman living but could be ridiculed and caricatured, so as to appear not only amusing but offensive. Ridicule is a most dangerous weapon, and I have known the best of friendships severed by it. I regret the English use it as they do when they have so many weak places in their own character.

“The English come to America and we receive them with the greatest cordiality, and try to make everything pleasant and comfortable for them as our guests. They take all that we do as a matter of course, a tribute of an inferior people to them as a superior nation. They will not admit that we have any manners, society, literature, art or science, or if they make any concession it is that the little we have got is borrowed, or as most of them plainly put it, stolen from them. They regard our kindness as presumption and officiousness, and resent it, some by ridicule and others by contempt.

“To give you an instance: when the great Dickens came to our country we received him as no Englishman had ever been received. Every one was ready to do him a favor, so as to make his visit as pleasant to him as possible. At an inland city, where he was to give a reading, the proprietor of the hotel where he stopped went to his room and said, ‘Mr. Dickens, I am the proprietor of the hotel, and I come myself to say that if there is anything needed to make you comfortable, if you will only let me know what it is I will take great pleasure in providing it.’ The proprietor did not send a servant, but went himself. This was his idea of hospitality and kindness. The great man, without rising from his chair, with a wave of his hand and a gruff, insolent voice, retorted, ‘I wish you would not bother me; when I need anything I will ring the bell.’ The landlord was a retired officer of the army, a gentleman. We have no castes as in England. We have gentlemen in every kind of business. A man is taken at his real worth, no matter what his employment. Some of our best men are merchants—shop-keepers, as they are styled and despised in England.

“They say we have no manners. A Duke came to see America. He did not think it worth while to get any letters of introduction to such a boorish people. The English accuse us of thinking a great deal of titles. This is so, for we have an idea that titles mean something, and that those who have them are somebody. In this we have been deceived, but who were the deceivers? The Duke happened to make a few acquaintances, and was invited to a dinner party by one of the best families. He delayed his coming so long that the dinner was kept waiting, and when he appeared it was in a tweed bob suit, such as he would wear at home in a morning stroll with his dogs. All the guests were in full dress, and at once noticed his neglige attire. The hostess, after recovering from her surprise, sent him word by a servant that she would excuse his absence, as it was evident that he did not wish to meet a dinner party. He took his leave, probably cursing the impudence of those upstart Americans.

“Another instance. When Lady Brassey came to the United States in her yacht, the ‘Sunbeam,’ she went to call on General Grant, the President, and asked to be shown into his private office. Mr. Fish, the Secretary of State, who happened to be present in the ‘White House,’ suggested that he would confer with the President and appoint a time for calling. When the time came she appeared dressed in a riding-habit and bringing a small dog, which she proposed to take in with her. Mr. Fish ordered a man in waiting to remove the dog. At this the Lady protested.

“‘It is against the rules for dogs to be allowed to enter the parlor.’ And still she insisted. Said the Secretary, ‘Madame, you must choose between the removal of your dog and your being admitted to the President of the United States.’ She then very reluctantly consented to its removal.