Caste and Creed: a novel

Front matter

!«/i <tfp //■ / ry ./. CASTE AND CREED. VOL. I. a CASTE AND CREED: A NOVEL BY Mrs FRANK PENNY. " Pity and need Make all flesh kin. There is no caBte in blood. Which runneth of one hup, nor caste in tears, Which trickle salt with all ; neither comes man To birth with tilka-mark stamped on the brow. Nor sacred thread on neck. Who doth right deeds Is twice-born, and who doth ill deeds vile." Edwin Arnold in " The Light of Asia. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: F. V. WHITE & CO., 31 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C. 1890. EDINBURGH COLSTON AND COMPANY PRINTERS CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. Temptation, ..... 1 II. Marriage is Honourable in All, . 12 III. A Crafty Woman, .... 23 IV. School, . . .39 V. Strong Prejudices, . . . .49 VI. A Luxurious Nature, . .68 VII. Dangerous Sympathy, . .96 VIII. Father and Daughter, . . . 116 IX.

Home, Sweet Home, . . . 140 X. The Strange Mother, . . . 164 XL The Foreign Cousin, . . . 188 XII. Evil Thoughts, . . . .218 POPULAR NEW NOYELS. Mow reaily, in One Vol. , the Eighth Edition of ARMY SOCIETY; or. Life in a Garrison Town. By John Strange Winter. Author of ' Booties' Baby.' Cloth gilt, 6s. ; also, picture boards, 2S. Also now ready, in cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. each. GARRISON GOSSIP, Gathered in Blankhampton. By John Strange Winter. Also, picture boards, 2s. A SIEGE BABY. By the same Author. Also, picture boards, 2S. BEAUTIFUL JIM. By the same Author. Also, picture boards, 2s. MRS BOB. By the same Author. BY WOMAN'S WIT. By Mrs Alexander. Author of ' The Wooing O't. Also, picture boards, 2s. MONA'S CHOICE. By the same Author. Also, picture boards, 2S. A LIFE INTEREST. By the same Author.

KILLED IN THE OPEN. By Mrs Edward Kennaud. Also, picture boards. 2s. THE GIRL IN THE BROWN HABIT. A Sporting Novel. By the same Author. Also, picture boards. 2s. A REAL GOOD THING. By the same Author. Also, picture boards, 2s. A CRACK COUNTY. By the same Author. Also, picture boards, 2S. MATRON OR MAID. By the same Author. LANDING A PRIZE. By the same Author. STRAIGHT AS A DIE. By the same Author. Also, picture boards, 2S. TWILIGHT TALES. By the same Author. Illustrated. IN A GRASS COUNTRY. By Mrs Lovett-Cameron. Also, picture boards, 2s. A DEVOUT LOVER By the same Author. Also, picture boards, 2S. THE COST OF A LIE. By the same Author. Also, picture boards, 2s. THIS WICKED WORLD. By the same Author. A LOST WIFE. By the same Author. THE OUTSIDER. By Hawley Smart. THE MASTER OF RATHKELLY. By the same Author LONG ODDS.

Preface

. A residence of some years in the Madras Presidency, during which I was brought daily into close contact with Eurasia n Christians of various social standing, has led me to pen this tale of ' ' Caste and Creed." The subject is one that now-a-days forces itself on the notice of our Anglo-Indian countrymen, and cannot be ignored. Vague and often false notions respecting it widely prevail. Though baptised into and brought up generally in the Christian Faith (that of the father), the Eurasians are necessarily exposed to great temptations and trials through their heathen relatives, and through the inherent weakness of their nature. The sad contrast between the philosophy of the Hindus' sacred books, and the exist- Preface. VIII ing practice of their religion is startling, whilst the gorgeous pageantry of their festivals makes the simple Christian worship appear cold and unattractive.

I have not ventured, in describing these, to do more than touch upon the gross immoralities connected with the existing idolatrous worship of the Hindus ; and I may have laid myself open to unfriendly criticism by alluding to them at all. I have tried to avoid all exaggeration and false sentiment, and to represent the force of heredity in our Eurasian fellow subjects fairly and faithfully, in the hope that more compassionate sympathy aud kind consideration may be extended to them than, in my own experience, they have hitherto received from British residents in India. CASTE AND CEEED.

Chapter I. Temptation

Temptations hurt not, though they have accesse, Satan o'ercomes none but by willingnesse." Herrick. Donald Anderson was very weary and hot, although it was only just five o'clock in the afternoon. He leaned back in his office chair, and called impatiently to the punkahmen to pull more vigorously. Then he poured out a glass of cool clear water from the porous earthenware goblet by his side, and drank a long deep draught. f He had had a busy day, and had transacted a good deal of business one way and another, which in other words meant making money. Nothing had occurred to cause him fatigue except the heat and dust, the mosquitoes, and the noise ofthe busy world which he himself had created around the office. VOL. I. A As he put down his glass, one of the mes sengers of the office — known in Southern India as peons — came into the spacious room.

"Well! what is it?" exclaimed the wearied man. He had just decided on giving up work for the day, and on taking a ride before the darkness of the tropics came on. " Ramalingam asks to see the master." Donald made a gesture of impatience, hesitated for a moment, and, thinking of the rupees he was so eager to gather, signified to the peon that he would see the man. But it meant that he must forego the evening ride ; for Ramalingam's business would take some time to discuss. The peon left the office, and almost im mediately after his departure Ramalingam entered. As he did so, Anderson touched a bell on his table — the signal for the busy clerks and attendants to stop work. There was a hum of voices in the next room, and the muffled shuffle of bare feet upon the matted floor. Through the wide archways the crowd of native writers could be seen closing their books, and moving out into the deep verandahs.

They were a fat, well-fed set of Hindus, with the usual placid, expressionless countenance of the Oriental. Although scrupulously neat in person, they were redolent of cocoanut oil and betel-nut. Temptation. 3 The loose white coats and large turbans gleamed with a golden light in the rays of the setting sun, harmonising with their smooth brown skins, as they walked in groups along the private road that led from the house. Ramalingam bowed low to the rich enter prising merchant of Trichinopoly as he entered the room ; folding his hands, he waited patiently till the hum of the stirring clerks had subsided. He was a fair man compared with the Hindus of the South. His frame was sinewy and well-knit, as though he had spent his youth in the saddle, or in pursuing the tiger and the stag through the jungles which bordered his estate.

He was a zemindar, or land owner. His estates were situated on the banks of the Cauvery river, the Nile of Southern India, whose fertile waters brought wealth and prosperity to the dwellers in Tanjore and Trichinopoly. Ramalingam came to Anderson to dispose of his crops of rice, sugar-cane, and grain. Anderson bought the crops as they stood, and sent his own carts, drawn by fine Mysore cattle, to bring away the produce. Men like the zemindar appreciated the benefits of the ready-money down, and the quittance of all risk of the road. The merchant found himself master of an enormous and lucra tive trade, with not a soul to oppose him. It was now the end of one of the half yearly seasons, and Ramalingam had the produce of some thousands of acres to sell. Anderson's agent had already visited the estate and valued the crops.

It only re mained for the buyer and seller to agree to the price. In accordance with an old Oriental custom, the zemindar always prefaced all his transactions with a handsome present. Anderson made it a rule to fall in with the ways of his clients whenever honesty was not called in question. He received the presents graciously, and took them into account when he purchased the goods offered. This time Ramalingam brought a chain of fine gold wire, worth about fifty rupees. It was a smaller gift than usual, and the fact did not escape the eye of the Scotch man. He took the trinket, and laid it by his side on the office table. The affair took longer to arrange than usual, and after twenty minutes the two men were no nearer the desired end than when they began. At last Ramalingam said, with a depre cating smile, — " Your honour is a little hard to deal with this afternoon ; yet I have not omitted to bring the usual gift."

Donald fingered the chain, and the quick witted Hindu divined the unspoken thought Temptation. 5 that was passing through the merchant's brain. The value of the trinket was a mere drop in the ocean compared with the sums which were spoken of. Ramalingam leaned forward aud said, with a meaning glance, — " Perhaps your honour does not know that there is a little gift outside, left with the servants." " You have something outside, have you"? Then we may possibly come to terms more easily. Is it of the same value as the last ? " " Your honour will value it even more," replied Ramalingam. Once more the men bargained. The man's last offering was a beautiful Persian mare, which Anderson sold to one of the English officers in the battery of artillery, stationed at Trichinopoly, for something over a thousand rupees.

If there was just such another standing in the stables, there was no need to haggle over the thousand rupees, which seemed the stumbling block. Anderson conceded the point ; he agreed to give Ramalingam his price ; and rather hurriedly closed the interview by writing the necessary cheque. As the zemindar took the slip of paper, Donald said, — " I hope she is a beauty." " She is as fair as the morning, and as beautiful as the newly-opened lotus-bud." With this flowery speech he vanished ; and in a few moments Donald saw him ambling away on his fat white Pegu pony. The tired merchant put away his papers, and locked the table drawers. His chokra, or valet, brought him a fragrant cup of coffee and a cheroot. It was too late to go out riding, for the sun already touched the horizon. A drive along the red dusty roads was not inviting.

There was nothing to be done but stroll about the well-kept grounds, or wander along the raised bank of the Wyaconda channel. The muddy but fertile waters of this canal were drawn from the great Cauvery itself, and its banks were a mass of luxuri ant vegetation. Palms, tamarinds, mangoes, babul-trees grew by the waterside, out of beds of velvet -green caladiums, and silvery pampas-grass. Donald loved his garden. He had laid it out with taste, and extended it to the very water's edge. It was a fitting adjunct to the noble house, that was a very palace in size and extensiveness. Anderson passed through a suite of rooms to a large central hall. Here was a billiard table, rarely used, which took up but a small space in the big room. A fountain played in the centre of the hall ; round it were ranged beautiful foliage plants and ferns, which were carefully tended by gardeners.

Temptation. 7 He passed on to his own apartments, a sitting-room, bedroom, dressing-room, and bathroom. The latter was furnished with a large marble swimming-bath, that looked cool and inviting. The furniture was of massive carved blackwood, an Indian wood little inferior to ebony. It had all been wrought by the patient Hindu carver. Strange deities, intertwined with cobras and fantas tic reptiles, ornamented bed, dressing-tables, wardrobes, looking-glass, and even punkah frame. It was upholstered in rich Oriental fabrics from the looms of Northern India. Donald did not allow luxury to take a firm hold upon him ; yet he liked to surround himself with artistic things which pleased his eye, whilst they ministered to his comfort. Money was plentiful, and it was plenti fully spent, when he was so inclined.

It had pleased him to watch the carpenters and wood-carvers, as they worked under his eye for months, until piece after piece of furniture was finished. But this evening he paid no attention to his richly - furnished room. He was intent only on plunging his head into the great marble basin of his washstand. The water cooled his heated brain, and he emerged from his room refreshed. He turned his steps towards the garden, intend ing to go through it to the stables. He wanted to satisfy his mind about the horse that Ramalingam had presented. He reached the stables and called to his groom. "Bring out the horse that the zemindar left to-day." " He left no horse, Sahib," replied the man. At that moment an old grey-haired native woman came towards him from the servant's quarters. By her side was one of the prettiest little maids Donald had ever seen.

She was a beautiful child of twelve, as fair as one of the daughters of Southern Europe. She was dressed in Brahmin fashion, in a rich, orange-coloured saree. " Some relations of one of my clerks wanting an increase of salary, I suppose," thought Donald. The woman made a low salaam, and bade her companion do the same. The merry child hid her face timidly in the woman's cloth, and peeped roguishly at the Scotch man. The old lady became impatient, and gave the girl a push towards the master. Gathering courage, she left the sheltering cloth, and threw herself down before him. She placed her little hands upon his feet as he stood there, and touched them with her forehead in humble obeisance. " What do you want?" asked Donald, not unkindly, though he was tired, and ill inclined to hear petitions just now.

Temptation. g ' We are yours. We own no other master. We will eat your rice and serve you faithfully," replied the woman. Donald looked mystified. He recognised the Brahmin cloth, and knew that the woman was not one of his servants. Be sides, as far as he knew, he kept no women servants in his bachelor establishment. " Are you the wife or mother of one of my clerks ? " he asked. " No, Sahib. We have no husband, nor son, nor brother. You are our father, our brother, and our husband," she rejoined, using an Oriental expression. " What do you mean ? " " Ramalingam has given us to your honour. This little maid will prove a solace in many a dull hour ; and I will be her mother-in-law, and guard her safely from other men's eyes." Donald listened in angry silence. He knew well enough now what the woman meant.

This, then, was the gift that the zemindar alluded to as having been left in charge of the servants. It was no valuable horse, but this beautiful rosebud, that would soon open out in the early tropical summer of her youth into the perfect Eve-like woman. Never had such a thing happened to Donald Anderson throughout his career. His upright, Presbyterian nature rebelled against the situation. After a few moments of silence, during which his anger grew, he said, — " Go ! Take the child away. I want nothing from such as you are." The woman fell at his feet, and began to entreat him. "Oh, Sahib, do not send us away. Ramalingam will not take us back. The child, though born of Brahmin caste, is an outcast through no fault of its own. We shall starve if your honour sends us out into the world. There is room and to spare in your honour's compound, where we might hide ourselves for a while, till I can find a husband for the little one."

Donald called his butler, who was looking on at a distance with some curiosity. " Take this woman and the child to the godowns. Let them stay there for a time ; and see they have food, and what else they want." He paused and gazed at the maid, who had crept timidly behind the woman. The little girl smiled as she caught his eye, and showed her pearly teeth between her ripe red lips. Something in the intelligent look brought a sudden thought into his mind. " Tell Abboy Naidoo, the writer, to teach this child to read and write," he said to the butler. Then, dismissing the subject from his Temptation. 11 mind, the handsome young merchant wandered off to the garden and down the banks of the Wj^aconda channel. The arums and caladiums reflected their heart shaped leaves in the still sluggish stream ; the sedge-warbler twittered a sleepy song in the thick pampas-grass on the opposite side.

The hum of the busy bazaar in the distance — thronged with Sepoys and their camp followers—fell faintly on his ear, reminding him of the large town and its strange people. With it came the thought of the innocent child so shamelessly sold by Ramalingam to the European. The zemindar had known Donald for some time, and had had many transactions with him. In every one of these the Scotchman had shown himself the soul of uprightness and honesty. Was this, then, the only lesson his con duct had taught ? Did the native think that the European was not one whit better than the sensual Hindu ? " Bah ! " exclaimed Donald at last. " It is a detestable country, and a disgusting people." With this sweeping and somewhat unjust assertion, he forcibly put aside all further thought of the child and her guardian. He firmly resolved to send her back in a few days to Ramalingam, under charge of a peon, who should also carry a very severe letter.

Chapter II. Marriage Is Honourable In All

" Heart on her lips and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime and sunny as her skies." — Btron. Four years passed, and Donald was still building up his fortunes with varying, but ever-increasing, success. The child and the old woman vanished from his sight, and also from his mind. They were still living on his charity, duly fed and clothed by the stately Tamil butler, who never vouchsafed a word that was not absolutely necessary. His duty was to carry out an order until it was cancelled by a counter order. This was done to the letter, without question or remark. He looked after his master's in terests in the house, ruled the gang of ser vants with the autocratic and unquestioned authority of a domestic rajah ; and his master, in return, trusted him. Anderson knew that the butler would allow no one else to rob him, even if he secured the perquisites himself.

He en trusted him with the expenditure of the usual monthly sum required to keep up the establishment, and was never troubled about the details of the housekeeping. Through the master's want of curiosity and his forgetfulness, and through the Tamil's taciturnity, Donald was absolutely unaware that he still retained such a charge as the young outcast Brahmin girl on the premises, The long stretch of servants' buildings that bordered the two sides of the great court yard might have hidden many such from the master's eye. One day he was sitting in the wide pillared verandah of his house, smoking a cheroot. His feet were up on the long arms of his chair, and the paper he had been reading had dropped upon the floor. It was Sunday, and the office was closed. The army of clerks and peons were enjoying the seventh day's rest in their own houses, or in the busy streets of the big town.

The open space outside the office, where the mango and the tamarind trees cast a pleasant shade, was unoccupied, save for the green parrots that flew shrieking from tree to tree. The patient white bullocks were resting in the airy cattle-sheds beyond the stables, happy in the absence of their noisy drivers. Donald bad been to the garrison church that morning, for he was a man who observed the Sabbath with rigorous fidelity. The same upright spirit of honesty which made him so scrupulously just to man, made him also just to himself and his God. He inherited all the religious superstition of his race ; and, as his character wTas strong, his spiritual instincts were also strong. On no account would he transact any business whatever on Sunday. He would see no one, answer no letter, nor even read one that relatefl to office work.

Occasionally he dined at a friend's house on Sunday ; but the busy life he led was not conducive to sociability. His neighbours gradually learnt to let him go his own way. They welcomed him warmly when he showed himself at mess or club gather ings, but never sought him. Had he been within reach of the Scotch kirk, he would not have been found at the English service. There was no Scotch kirk nearer than Madras or Bangalore, therefore he went every Sunday to the church of the cantonment. The church-going conscientiously accom plished, Sunday was afterwards a day of rest, and he idled it away between eating, sleeping, and reading. To-day, as he sat drowsily listening to the "tink, tink" of the coppersmith bird in the big banyan tree, he was aroused by the light fall of a woman's foot. The jingle of silver bangles on the ankles told him that it was a native.

He looked up and saw an old woman whose face seemed familiar. She was lead ing a girl of great beauty by the hand. As the Scotchman's astonished gaze rested on the maiden, her cheeks flushed like the nec tarine under the southern sun. Her features were small and delicate, but as regular as those of a Grecian woman. Her eyes were of a hazel brown, large and expressive, and veiled by a fringe of long, curled lashes. Beautiful as her face was, it scarcely equalled the perfect form of her figure, which seemed the embodiment of grace and youth. Untrammelled with the confining garments of the English woman, nature had been left to itself, and had developed a harmony of soft curves and rounded limbs. As the girl moved along on her bare feet — guiltless of shoes and high heels — her undu lating motions enhanced the beauty of face and form.

The old woman came forward and made a low salaam. " May the great Father of all ever bless your honour for the food and shelter you have given us these past years," she said. The girl stood shyly by, and the woman looked round at her. bidding her thank the master. Timidly, but with infinite grace, she did as she was told. To Donald's great sur prise, she said, in excellent English, — " My guardian and I have much to thank you for. You have been very kind in allowing us to live here. I also thank you on my own account for the education you have given me." She paused, and there was a silence, during wThich Donald's usually well-regu lated mind was in a turmoil. With the characteristic quickness and innate honesty of the man, he blamed himself for having forgotten the girl ; for never having taken steps to restore her to her people ; or to place her under the care ofthe missionary and his wife who lived and worked in Trichino poly.

He had allowed the cares of money making to interfere with his duty towards his neighbour. He had done the girl a wrong. " I had really forgotten your existence," spoke out Donald, in unvarnished frank ness ; "I must make inquiries, and send you back to your people." " The zemindar has gone on a pilgrimage to the far north," said the old woman. The girl's fair face clouded with anxiety. " Sir, if you send me to the zemindar, my fate will be worse than death." " What am I to do with you, then ? " exclaimed he, thoroughly perplexed. " Can I not remain for the present under the charge of your butler, as before ? I have received nothing but kindness from him ; and if I might also continue my studies, I should be glad." The girl said this with the quiet dignity of an educated and thoughtful mind.

The old woman, who still remembered how and why the child was brought, came forward and spoke. " It is a pity that so beautiful a flower should remain unplucked. In this country, when the fruit is ripe, the hand of man never fails to gather it." Donald understood, and so did the girl. The latter glanced sharply at the Scotch man, and saw nothing but wrath in his face. Laying her hand quickly upon the old hag's shoulder, she pushed her back, and in peremptory tones told her to go. Donald added his word to the command, and the woman crept away crestfallen and grumbling. The two glanced at each other, and Donald recognised the fact that his companion had been moved by the same sense of honesty as himself. A new feeling of respect for the girl took possession of him. Perhaps, with that wonderful intuition which is the second nature of the Oriental, she divined the thought of the man, and had spoken accordingly.

From whatever cause she had uttered the words which dis missed the temptress, they formed the first link which was woven to bind the shrewd Scotchman to this warm-hearted, passionate child of the tropics. vol. I. B " By all means stay," he said. The girl made the usual salaam, and turned to go. " Stop a moment. Tell me what you have learnt during these four years." In simple language she described her studies, and gave an account of the books she had read. They had been taken from his own library by the writer, and lent to her. Donald found himself more interested than he thought possible. As she talked, her beautiful face grew animated and full of changing expression. He watched her as she spoke — the soft evening light playing upon her features — and forgot how the time went by. For fully an hour she remained by his side.

Then, seeming to remember that she ranked only as one of his servants, she made a low obeisance and left him. The next day Donald was plunged again in his office work. At rare intervals the beautiful face came before him in his thoughts; but he was a strong-willed man, and he smiled as he beat the vision successfully away. If it had remained in his hands, the matter would have gone no further. He was not to be easily con quered by a woman, and he would not have sought the girl again. But with her it was different. She knew, well enough, what her position in the house was, and what it might be. Ambition suggested to her mind the possibility of becoming the legitimate mistress of that large house, and its princely retinue of servants. Her heart went with her ambition, for Donald's kindly notice had touched her warm nature.

He was fair to look upon ; a fine, handsome man, in every way calculated to attract the eye of the soft, brown-eyed woman. She knew that she aimed at something high, for he would offer her nothing less than marriage. On the other hand, if she did not win this handsome Briton, what was left to her but the fearful fate of being linked to one of the heavy, sensual clerks in the office ? No ! — a thousand times no ! She would never bow to such a fate. Better end her life at once in the sacred waters of the Cauvery. So it happened that, when the busy day was over, and the master wandered restfully in his beautiful garden, among the gardenias, the jasmine, the Persian roses, and the pale white moon-flowers, he often met this lovely Indian maiden. She always had a smile for him, and was ready to talk or to listen.

They spoke of the books he had recommended her to read, and he was astonished at the subtlety of her mind. She seemed to grasp the sub jects thoroughly, and frequently argued plausibly, if not correctly. This aroused the best part of Donald's nature into speech, and he endeavoured to replace her somewhat heathenish views with higher Christian teaching. Then, like a child at his feet, she seemed to learn better things. It was a dangerous situation for the Scotchman. No man can talk to a beautiful woman, and tell her his best and noblest thoughts, without creating a strong bond of sympathy between them. If the two are unbound by any other tie, it is an easy step from sympathy to love. Before many weeks had passed, the mail coat of reserve and coldness was penetrated, and the tender arms of the entwining tropical flower were folding closely round the stiff fir-tree of northern climes.

One evening, the two were seated under a mango tree, that spread its boughs down to the very edge of the still waters of the Wyaconda. Both were silent. He was watching the liquid silver of the moonbeams as they lay on the face of the channel. She, woman-like, was watching him, her darling, her idol, though she had not dared yet to call him so. She was waiting for him to break the silence. On the previous evening she put her fate to the touch by suggesting that she should seek some employment. She could teach ; and, doubtless, Mrs Stainer, the missionary's wife, could find her a post as mistress in one of the girls' schools she was about to establish. Donald said nothing in reply at the time, but he was manifestly startled. She then left him, and this was their first meeting since. The soft moonlight played in chequered patterns of yellow light at their feet, as the wind moved the leaves of the mango above their heads.