See Yup

"See Yup" is a short story by Bret Harte that captures the essence of life during the Gold Rush era in California. The narrative revolves around a Chinese immigrant, See Yup, who faces discrimination and cultural challenges while trying to find his place in a society marked by prejudice. Through the lens of See Yup’s experience, Harte explores themes of identity, resilience, and the complex interactions between different cultures in a rapidly changing world. The story combines humor and poignancy, showcasing Harte's skill in character development and his commentary on social issues of his time.

• Short story

								
I don't suppose that his progenitors ever gave him that name, or,
indeed, that it was a NAME at all; but it was currently believed
that--as pronounced "See UP"--it meant that lifting of the outer angle
of the eye common to the Mongolian. On the other hand, I had been told
that there was an old Chinese custom of affixing some motto or legend,
or even a sentence from Confucius, as a sign above their shops, and that
two or more words, which might be merely equivalent to "Virtue is its
own reward," or "Riches are deceitful," were believed by the simple
Californian miner to be the name of the occupant himself. Howbeit, "See
Yup" accepted it with the smiling patience of his race, and never
went by any other. If one of the tunnelmen always addressed him as
"Brigadier-General," "Judge," or "Commodore," it was understood to be
only the American fondness for ironic title, and was never used except
in personal conversation. In appearance he looked like any other
Chinaman, wore the ordinary blue cotton blouse and white drawers of the
Sampan coolie, and, in spite of the apparent cleanliness and freshness
of these garments, always exhaled that singular medicated odor--half
opium, half ginger--which we recognized as the common "Chinese smell."

Our first interview was characteristic of his patient quality. He had
done my washing for several months, but I had never yet seen him.
A meeting at last had become necessary to correct his impressions
regarding "buttons"--which he had seemed to consider as mere
excrescences, to be removed like superfluous dirt from soiled linen.
I had expected him to call at my lodgings, but he had not yet made his
appearance. One day, during the noontide recess of the little frontier
school over which I presided, I returned rather early. Two or three of
the smaller boys, who were loitering about the school-yard, disappeared
with a certain guilty precipitation that I suspected for the moment,
but which I presently dismissed from my mind. I passed through the
empty school-room to my desk, sat down, and began to prepare the coming
lessons. Presently I heard a faint sigh. Looking up, to my intense
concern, I discovered a solitary Chinaman whom I had overlooked, sitting
in a rigid attitude on a bench with his back to the window. He caught my
eye and smiled sadly, but without moving.

"What are you doing here?" I asked sternly.

"Me washee shilts; me talkee 'buttons.'"

"Oh! you're See Yup, are you?"

"Allee same, John."

"Well, come here."

I continued my work, but he did not move.

"Come here, hang it! Don't you understand?"

"Me shabbee, 'comme yea.' But me no shabbee Mellican boy, who catchee
me, allee same. YOU 'comme yea'--YOU shabbee?"

Indignant, but believing that the unfortunate man was still in fear
of persecution from the mischievous urchins whom I had evidently just
interrupted, I put down my pen and went over to him. Here I discovered,
to my surprise and mortification, that his long pigtail was held hard
and fast by the closed window behind him which the young rascals had
shut down upon it, after having first noiselessly fished it outside with
a hook and line. I apologized, opened the window, and released him. He
did not complain, although he must have been fixed in that uncomfortable
position for some minutes, but plunged at once into the business that
brought him there.

"But WHY didn't you come to my lodgings?" I asked.

He smiled sadly but intelligently.

"Mishtel Bally [Mr. Barry, my landlord] he owce me five dollee fo
washee, washee. He no payee me. He say he knock hellee outee me allee
time I come for payee. So me no come HOUSEE, me come SCHOOLEE, Shabbee?
Mellican boy no good, but not so big as Mellican man. No can hurtee
Chinaman so much. Shabbee?"

Alas! I knew that this was mainly true. Mr. James Barry was an Irishman,
whose finer religious feelings revolted against paying money to a
heathen. I could not find it in my heart to say anything to See Yup
about the buttons; indeed, I spoke in complimentary terms about the
gloss of my shirts, and I think I meekly begged him to come again for my
washing. When I went home I expostulated with Mr. Barry, but succeeded
only in extracting from him the conviction that I was one of "thim black
Republican fellys that worshiped naygurs." I had simply made an enemy of
him. But I did not know that, at the same time, I had made a friend of
See Yup!

I became aware of this a few days later, by the appearance on my desk of
a small pot containing a specimen of camellia japonica in flower. I knew
the school-children were in the habit of making presents to me in this
furtive fashion,--leaving their own nosegays of wild flowers, or perhaps
a cluster of roses from their parents' gardens,--but I also knew that
this exotic was too rare to come from them. I remembered that See Yup
had a Chinese taste for gardening, and a friend, another Chinaman, who
kept a large nursery in the adjoining town. But my doubts were set at
rest by the discovery of a small roll of red rice-paper containing my
washing-bill, fastened to the camellia stalk. It was plain that this
mingling of business and delicate gratitude was clearly See Yup's
own idea. As the finest flower was the topmost one, I plucked it for
wearing, when I found, to my astonishment, that it was simply wired to
the stalk. This led me to look at the others, which I found also wired!
More than that, they seemed to be an inferior flower, and exhaled that
cold, earthy odor peculiar to the camellia, even, as I thought, to an
excess. A closer examination resulted in the discovery that, with the
exception of the first flower I had plucked, they were one and all
ingeniously constructed of thin slices of potato, marvelously cut to
imitate the vegetable waxiness and formality of the real flower. The
work showed an infinite and almost pathetic patience in detail,
yet strangely incommensurate with the result, admirable as it was.
Nevertheless, this was also like See Yup. But whether he had tried to
deceive me, or whether he only wished me to admire his skill, I could
not say. And as his persecution by my scholars had left a balance of
consideration in his favor, I sent him a warm note of thanks, and said
nothing of my discovery.

As our acquaintance progressed, I became frequently the recipient of
other small presents from him: a pot of preserves of a quality I could
not purchase in shops, and whose contents in their crafty, gingery
dissimulation so defied definition that I never knew whether they were
animal, vegetable, or mineral; two or three hideous Chinese idols, "for
luckee," and a diabolical fire-work with an irregular spasmodic activity
that would sometimes be prolonged until the next morning. In return, I
gave him some apparently hopeless oral lessons in English, and certain
sentences to be copied, which he did with marvelous precision. I
remember one instance when this peculiar faculty of imitation was

								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes