That Eurasian

by Aleph Bey

At another meeting came the question of the opening or dedication of the building. Then there was an excitement. Some one not quite in the inside who had not heard of the insulting remarks of the Commissioner, proposed that that gentleman be invited to preside on the occasion. He had no sooner uttered the words than he was silenced by a storm of noes, those of the women the most emphatic of all.

There was a little fellow so retired and diffident that I had never heard him make a remark in any of our meetings, though he was always present. He sprang to his feet, lost sight of himself and rose to the occasion. Said he, “I am utterly opposed to inviting any outside Europeans. If we get one of the swells to preside he will look down on us and talk to us as if we were children, fools or outcasts. We have been patronized long enough. We are always put in the background, crowded into the outskirts, treated as scum or menials, except when the Europeans can use us for their own advantage. Then they fawn on us as if we were dogs, to do their bidding. They do not want us anywhere, and always treat us with contempt. Even a blatant Babu is treated with more respect than we are. They will not allow us to enlist as soldiers. They insult us when we ask for employment in the Government offices. The Government Railway Companies and the merchants stick up notices ‘No Eurasians need apply.’ When they advertise for clerks they add, ‘No Eurasians wanted.’

“In the mutiny they made all the use they could of the Eurasians. They were then considered good enough to help them fight and to protect their families. But if another mutiny occurs, the Babus or the Russians may take the country for all the help these haughty aristocrats will get from me.

“Don’t I know what I am talking about. My father was a shopkeeper in Lucknow at the time of the mutiny. All of his stores he took into the residency and gave them out to be distributed among the officers and their families. While the stores lasted he was patted on the back. It was Mr. Evans here and Mr. Evans there; let us see Evans! He was put in the most dangerous places of defense. What a favor! When the mutiny was over and others received medals and honors, his name was not even mentioned. He was only a shopkeeper and worse, an Eurasian. When he suggested payment for his stores he was told that he must submit to the usages of war, so he was left without a rupee for the support of his family, and died almost a beggar, though he had taken many thousands of rupees worth of goods into the entrenchment. Officers who had drunk many cases of his wines, and whose families had been kept from dying through his supplies of canned goods, afterwards did not know him when they met him face to face on the road. I could tell of the rebuffs and insults he received from them when he applied for honest work, but what is the use? Everybody knows the story and everywhere it was the same. It is time we stand up for ourselves and demand our right to live. If we are so lacking in energy that we cannot do this, and are so degraded as to be willing to be insulted and patronized as inferiors then the sooner we die the better.”

These are only a few of his sentences. He was greatly excited and each sentence came out like the puff report from a Gatling gun. His remarks had a great effect and it was some minutes before the audience became quiet, for he was cheered again and again.

Then some one arose and very deliberately said: “I heartily agree with every word Mr. Evans has said. It is time we cease to be patronized. We have been made slaves, menials, and been done to death by patronage, as if we existed only through the mercy and favor of these haughty over-bearing Europeans who are the sources of our being and the causes of our degradation. Without any further remarks I would suggest that we have no occasion to go outside to solicit any one to honor us with his presence. We have one among us, of our own class, who is our best friend as we all know, and but for whom we would not be assembled here to-night. Need I mention his name—Mr. Japhet—”

At this I sprang to my feet, for I had been silently enjoying, listening to the various speakers, thinking that from the independence in their remarks they had already mounted several rounds of the ladder towards liberty and manhood.

“My friends,” said I, “kindly allow me a few words. We have one among us, though not of us, and as he is not present I can speak freely of him. He is our truest and best friend, and has done more for us than all the rest put together. Therefore I move that this our sincere friend, Mr. Jasper, be invited to preside at our opening and give us an address.” As I spoke his name, there was such a cheering that the rest of my sentence, was completely drowned. It showed such a unanimity that it was not necessary to put the motion to a vote.

I had never told any one except my wife, of our friend’s most generous aid, as he had requested me not to do so, but all knew him well and esteemed him as their friend and one of the noblest of men.

Thus this long mooted question was settled and the other part of the programme was soon arranged. We were to have music by some in our own circle and by some other musicians, the best we could get, besides we had our grand piano, and paid for by my wife, though she did not do it at the expense of the Commissioner Sahib’s discomfiture.