That Eurasian

by Aleph Bey

I doubt, no I know it, that it would have been utterly impossible for any leading man in either of the villages to have conceived, planned, and accomplished such a villainous crime as that of the distinguished Christian Commissioner Sahib. They could not, and would not have done it, for their high moral, or high animal sense, if you like it better, would have revolted at it. The highest sense of chastity is in brutes, and the very lowest in the upper classes of human society. I am a liar if this is not true. But what is the use of talking?

I sometimes went to the club, as I did not like to exclude myself from all mankind. There were many newcomers, who looked askance at me. To some of them I was introduced, and they proved to be very pleasant and agreeable companions, for though I have had my grievances, and may be a little cynical at times, yet I would not have it understood, that I think all people are bad, or that there may not be some people, even of the “upper classes,” and in every grade of society who are good and trying to do good. Yet, I was not comfortable. The general company was not to my taste. The conversation was usually horsey or vicious among the men, or made up of gossip and slander among the women. Frequently on going home, I tried to recall some idea, some information that I had acquired, but there was absolutely nothing worth carrying home.

One evening, as I approached a company, I was introduced to several, but one quickly and deliberately turned his back upon me. A friend told me later on, that he was one of the new magistrates, who had just come to the station, and that he gave as his reason for snubbing me, that he had a preference in his acquaintance, and did not care to know that “Eurasian.” I recalled him as the downy youth, who had made a similar remark when I was at the engineering college, and further that he was a son of the Commissioner of Jalalpur. Worthy scion of a noble sire!

I concluded that the game was not worth the candle, so I paid up all my dues and withdrew from the club, for my own good, and probably to the satisfaction of Mr. Smith and others.

Mr. Jasper frequently called. His conversation always set me to thinking. This is a good sign of conversation, as well as of a book. In my experience the best books are those which lie open in my hand, while my thoughts are pursuing some ideas suggested by something just read. The only real use of books is to make a man think for himself. Reading that does not set the mind to work, not only wastes the time but weakens the faculty for thought.

If a book will not set one thinking for himself, it is not worth shelf-room. The same with men. One might be with some a week or month, and all they have to give is talk, mere words, while they are enamored by their own verbosity. I also dislike a man who always agrees with me, and never goes beyond my depth. Mr. Jasper was always climbing, reaching out for something higher than himself, and exciting one to go with him.

One morning I abruptly asked him, “Do you believe in God?” I cannot tell why I asked the question, as we cannot always give a reason for our doings.

He exclaimed, “Why do you ask such a question? Believe in God! How can I help it? How can any thinking being do otherwise? I see, you have got the impression from something I have said, that because I do not believe everything in the Bible, the church, the creeds, as some do, I must be an atheist. It is so easy for some to use that epithet against any one who is not willing to swallow everything that people wish to force down his throat. Some one has said, I forget who, that ‘if some mortal steps on the world’s platform and announces a few salient truths which do not conform to the stereotyped systems of the religious community, he is overwhelmed with hisses and objurgations, denounced as a heretic or ostracized as an agnostic or an infidel.’

“I am profoundly a theist. I can say, with Voltaire, that if there is not a God it would be necessary to invent one. He was also very orthodox in his belief in hell, for, when a friend wrote to him, ‘I have succeeded in getting rid of the idea of hell,’ Voltaire replied, ‘I congratulate you; I am very far from that.’

“But to the question. I doubt if there is really an atheist in the world. There are infidels, as every one is an infidel in regard to something. There are different views about God, as many as there are people. You never saw two faces exactly alike. I have often thought of this, that of the fifteen hundred millions of people in the world, we can recognize every one from another. It seems incredible. If then, all these faces are different, so are the minds, and each one has his conception of God. Who will presume to say that any one kind of face is more acceptable to God than another? Or who is to tell us that all the rest must make theirs conform to a certain type, or to lay down a law that such is the will of God?