Chapter 17 Chapter Fifteen Being an English Gentleman

My faith in vegetarian food is growing.Salter's book expanded my interest in studying diet.I scoured and read everything about vegetarianism, and one of them was Howard Williams' The Ethics of Diet, a "biographical history of human writing on food from antiquity to the present."This book tries to show that all philosophers and prophets from Pythagoras and Jesus to modern times are vegetarians."Eating the Right Way" by Dr. Anna Kingsford is also a fascinating book.Dr. Allinson's many writings on hygiene and wellness are also helpful.He advocated a system of treatment based on treating patients with a regular diet.He is a vegetarian himself, and the prescriptions he prescribes to patients are also strictly vegetarian.After reading all these books, dietary experimentation has taken an important place in my life.At the outset of these experiments health concerns were chiefly considered, but later religion became the overriding motive.

At the same time my friend did not stop caring for me.Because of his affection for me, he always thought that if I insisted on not eating meat, not only would my body become weak, but I would also become a useless person, because I would never feel comfortable in British society. .When he learned that I was indulging in the works of vegetarian theory, he was very worried that this kind of research would go to my head, that my life would be wasted in experiments, that I would forget my work and become a fantasy By.So he made a last effort to reform me.One day he invited me to the theater.Before the performance, he invited me to the Holborn Hotel for dinner.It was the first grand hotel I had seen since leaving the Victoria Hotel, and it was palatial.I really didn't have more than one useful experience staying in that hotel because I was a little confused when I was there.The friend had deliberately brought me to this restaurant, apparently thinking that politeness would prohibit any questions.There were many people eating in this restaurant at that time, and my friend and I sat at a table facing each other.The first dish served was soup.I don't know what the soup is made of, but I'm afraid to ask the friend.So I called the waiter over.My friend saw me doing this and asked me sternly across the table what was the matter.I hesitated and told him that I wanted to ask if this soup was a vegetarian soup.He yelled angrily: "You are such a boor in a civilized society. If you can't restrain yourself, you'd better let it go. You go to another restaurant to eat yours, and wait for me outside after eating." It pleased me, and I went out by myself.There used to be a vegetarian restaurant nearby, but it was closed.So I didn't eat at all that night, and I went to the theater with that friend, but he didn't say a word about the situation I had created.I, of course, have nothing to say.

This was our last friendly altercation and it didn't affect our relationship in the slightest.All my friend's efforts were affectionate, for which I was aware and grateful, and I respected him all the more because of our differences of thought and action. I decided, however, that I should reassure him, that I should assure him that I would no longer be a boor, but try to fit myself into the polite society--a polite, vegetarian, but not obnoxious person.To this end I took upon myself the still more improbable task of making myself an English gentleman. The clothes I had brought from Bombay did not seem to suit British society now, so I went to the Army and Navy stores to buy some new clothes.I also bought a top hat for nineteen shillings--a very high price in those days.Not satisfied with this, I went to Stock Street, the most fashionable central district of London, and bought an evening dress for ten pounds; I also asked my kind and noble brother to send me a double gold watch chain.Wearing a ready-made bow tie was considered unseemly at the time, so I learned the art of tying my own.When I was in India, mirrors were a luxury, and the only time I had a chance to take a picture was when the family barber came to shave me.Here I spend ten minutes every day, standing in front of a large mirror, wearing a tie and combing my hair in the correct way at that time, and looking at it alone.My hair is very stiff, so it's always a regular daily struggle with the brush to get it tamed.Every time I put on and take off my hat, my hand is unconsciously flitting over my head to adjust my hair, not to mention sitting in a circle of delicacy, how this hand should be moved at any time and place for the same purpose. Those cultivated habits that are in line with etiquette.

As if all this were not enough to show that I was serious about the matter, I turned my attention to other details necessary to be an English gentleman.I was told that I must learn to dance, French and oratory.French is not only the language of France's neighboring countries, but also the mixed language of the European continent where I want to travel around.I decided to take dance lessons into a dancing class, and paid £3 for a term.I had about six classes in three weeks, but I couldn't get the rhythmic movement.I don't know the tune of the piano, so I can't make the steps fit the beat.So what should I do?There is a story: A hermit raised a cat to keep out rats, raised a cow to milk the cat, and hired a man to watch the cow, and so on.My desires, like that of the hermit's family, grow and grow.I thought I should learn the violin to accustom my ears to Western music.So I spent another £3 on a violin and some tuition fees.I also had a third teacher teach me oratory, and paid a guinea for the first installment.He introduced me to Bayle's "Model Orator" as a textbook, and I bought it too, and began to learn Beet's speeches.

But Mr. Bayle's book gave me a warning and woke me up. I don't intend to live in England forever, I tell myself.So what's the use of me learning oratory?How can dancing make me a gentleman?I can also learn the violin in India.I am a student, and I should still study.I must qualify to be a lawyer.If my conduct makes me a gentleman, that is all the better; otherwise, I must give up the desire. These similar thoughts took possession of me, and I wrote a letter to the speech teacher, telling him of them, and asking his forgiveness for not going to my classes.In fact, I only took two or three classes.I wrote the same letter to the dance teacher, and I went to the violin teacher myself and asked her to sell me the violin for whatever price.She was very kind to me, so I told her how I had come to my senses from chasing a wrong thought.She encouraged me in this determination to make a complete change.

This stupid and ridiculous life has passed for about three months.As for the exquisite clothing, it has continued for several years.But from then on, I became a student.