their dusky fellow-subjects is often not very conciliatory; but we can hardly wonder at it when we see so many natives displaying the very vices and failings that are calculated to excite the disgust of an Englishman. We see men continually indulging in gross debauchery of the vilest kind, ill-treating women, and yet crying like children themselves for the least hurt, cringing to and fawning upon their immediate superiors, but insolent to all others, and utterly regardless of the claims of honour, truth, and gratitude, and we cannot be surprised that those who hold such weaknesses and such vices in peculiar contempt and abhorrence, should allow their sentiments to be seen in their conduct.
We by no means, however, mean to assert that all natives are as described above, but it is a melancholy truth that no small portion of those who come most into contact with Europeans are thus, more or less, morally disfigured; and it is but natural that the gulf, before existing, should be widened by the mutiny and its attendant horrors. Many of the accusations brought against Anglo-Indians by travellers who scamper through the country, are manifestly absurd, as when (ex uno disce omnes) they are censured for not saying, “if you please,” and “thank you,” to their servants—expressions which it would be impossible to translate into Hindustani, so as to convey any definite idea to any but a highly-educated native. It is true, the heinous crime of talking of “niggers” is not unfrequently committed, but that Europeans in India do not systematically hate and ill-treat the natives is proved by the conduct of those officers who, during the mutiny, in spite of warning and even evidence, refused to believe in the treachery of their men, and fell victims to their trust,” and to this may be added the testimony of many high in power, who enjoy opportunities of forming a judgment on the subject, not possessed by those flippant tourists who are so anxious to prove the rule by the exception. The conduct of such writers is the more open to censure, inasmuch as the dissemination of slanders is but a poor return for the kind treatment they are sure to have received; for hospitality, like that practised at home in the good old days, is one of the most conspicuous virtues of the English in India.
On arrival at a place, if the traveller has a slight acquaintance with any resident, or bears a letter from a common friend, and often indeed without any such claim, he is sure of a warm reception. No matter how small the bungalow, or how limited his entertainer’s means, room is made for him. His host gives him of his best while he remains, and “speeds the parting guest” on his way, laden with provisions for the journey. The whole proceeding is marked by a freedom from restraint, and an innate politeness, more characteristic, according to received notions, of a Frenchman than of a Briton. There is very little of that cold formalism for which Englishmen are proverbial in India. Men are thrown together more, and when one meets another hundreds of miles, perhaps, from any place inhabited by Europeans, he is only too glad of a companion, to be restrained from intercourse by the consideration that there has been no introduction. There is no fear, as at home, that the casual acquaintance, with whom you have struck up an intimacy, may turn out a travelling tailor or bootmaker, for, at a distance from the Presidency, one rarely meets with any but members of the different branches of the Government service.[1] This common bond of interest naturally binds people together, and makes them more friendly than they would be otherwise. Every man’s social position is known, and he has only to “call” on arrival at a new place to be received at every house. Society-especially at a small station—is so free from the restraints of formality, that a stranger would be almost inclined to think all around him mutually related; and, we believe, it is a misunderstanding of this natural intimacy that has caused so much scandal and misrepresentation. Indian society is considered at home most lax, and even immoral. Seduction and elopement are considered to be every-day occurrences, and some go so far as to look on Indian ladies as hardly “proper.” A most unfair view this, and one which there are no grounds for adopting. Anglo-Indian society, as far as regards morality, will bear comparison with English society, and the comparison may even prove in favour of the former. Levity and flirting may, and undoubtedly do, prevail to a t extent, while now and then a great esclandre in the shape of an elopement or crim. con. case takes place (though happily such cases are rare now-a-days), but it must be recollected that in a limited society every such instance is universally known and commented upon, while in a more extensive society it would perhaps remain hidden, or at least known to a few only. The revelations made in Sir Cresswell Cresswell’s court, leave our friends at home little to boast of. In India our faults and vices cannot remain concealed, and the worst of us is known to all—while in England, on the other hand, such vices often lie hid under the garb of severe propriety, festering and cankering at the very heart of society. We do not pharisaically profess to be better than our neighbours, we simply deny that we are so very much worse than they, and demand, what is our due, an impartial and unbiassed judgment. “Audi alteram partem” is a motto often quoted, but seldom acted on.
But we have said enough, for Indian topics are apt to weary Englishmen. It will be ample reward for us if this slight sketch causes even one at home to think more kindly and more justly of their exiled friends and relations. Every year, for the last half century, has been drawing India nearer to Great Britain, yet the people of the latter country hardly know more of the former than they did fifty years ago, and, apparently, care just as much about it as they did then, "What will they say in England?" is the mental ejaculation of everyone out here when anything noteworthy takes place. Too often the answer is that given by the learned world to George Primrose's paradoxes—just nothing, and we find that what has been exciting us, and filling our minds for months, is scarcely considered worthy of a cursory notice in a corner of the "Jupiter." But we do not protest- ↑ A few years ago this rule was without exception, almost. Now the various railways have brought a number of engineers and others into the country, who turn up everywhere.
