That Eurasian

by Aleph Bey

In all my previous acquaintance with Mr. Jasper he had told me nothing of his history. I had never made inquiries as I considered it impertinent to pry into the secrets of people and preferred to remain in ignorance unless they chose of their own accord to tell me. I knew him to be a very reserved man, one who had traveled and seen a great deal, read and studied much and was an independent thinker. His theory, was that as he was responsible for his thoughts and deeds of this life and for the life to come, he could not avoid the necessity of being free in all things. He was most courteous in hearing all sides and diligent in reading everything on every subject as an impartial judge, but at the end he formed his own conclusions to which he adhered tenaciously for himself.

One day he incidentally referred to his religious life. His parents were devoted Christians and he was brought up in their faith. His mother was the stronger willed of the two. She was of Dutch descent, of a hardy and resolute race. She had an excellent mind, though not well educated. Her good common sense answered in place of education. She exacted implicit respect and obedience from her children. She laid down no rules, but every one knew what she desired and not one dared act contrary to what mother wished. There was no harshness, but a mother’s love shown in all her acts towards her children. She did not lecture them or parley with them, but “it is right my son and must be done,” and it was. She demanded obedience first and afterwards, sometimes, would give her reasons. She seldom made mistakes. Her good judgment so calmly acted upon, impressed all that it was best to do as she directed.

One thing indicated her character. She was very particular about the observance of Sunday. On Saturday the boy’s clothes were seen in order, their boots were blacked and they had their baths and the Sunday dinner was prepared as far as possible. On Sunday morning every one in the household, even to the dogs, knew and felt it was a sacred day. All went to church no matter what the weather might be and no Sunday sickness was allowed. After the service came the dinner, not a cold water, dry biscuit affair, but the best dinner of the week, smoking hot roasts, tarts, pies and cream pudding in abundance, just what would please hungry, growing boys and make them love the mother and give them a warm regard for Sunday. After that, books and papers, no novels on that day, with singing and pleasant conversations, the mother the center of the household group; walking in the garden, orchard or fields, but no visiting or making calls, nor did she encourage visitors on Sunday. It was a day of quiet rest at home.

Outside the house the father ruled, but in the house the mother was ruler and priestess. The parents never interfered in each other’s domain. If anything was said about something outside the house, it was, “Go to your father.” If about anything within the house, it was, “Ask your mother.” The mother often counselled with her husband about the children but never before them. Their matured decision was acted upon as if they had never spoken on the subject. Such was the love and respect and implicit obedience to the parents, that the boys never went away from home without asking permission of the mother, for it seemed to be within her province to know where her boys were. This habit clung to them until they reached manhood or as long as they were at home, for during school vacations and afterwards, before going out, it was always, “I will ask mother first.” This may seem very rigid, but what could have been better for a family of energetic boys than such a system of which they were trained to venerate and love mother and home?

While Mr. Jasper was telling this I recalled what I had read in the autobiography of George Ebers, where he writes of his mother’s influence: “I had no thought, performed no act, without wondering what would be her opinion of it, and this intimate relation, though in an altered form, continued until her death. In looking back, I may regard it as a tone of my whole development that my conduct was regulated according to the more or less close mental and outward connection in which I stood to her.”

And the sisters, for there were several, dear, good, noble girls, models of the mother in every respect, a family group clinging together, the interest of each belonging to all and never sundered except by death. There was no separate purse among the children. If one needed a little money he was free to help himself, and this continued even after they had grown to manhood, each assisting the others and no account kept.

It was a sad, sad day when death suddenly removed the mother from her privileged place in the home.

Mr. Jasper stopped suddenly with tears in his eyes and a choking sob in his voice, while he sat in silence for some minutes, looking back over the years as if he saw that home and the mother again.

I had known so little, almost nothing of my mother; yet such as she was she was still my mother. It has always caused me deep, heartfelt grief when others have told me of their mothers. Why could not I have had a mother’s love and care? Why?

The loss of such a treasure is next to losing God, the greatest loss, it seems to me, that can befall a human being. I had no father, not a real one, and have no feeling about him except—I have often heard people speak with great respect of their father, but the heart’s affection always goes to the mother.