Indian Drama in English: The Beginnings 938366052X, 9789383660520

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Indian Drama in English

The Beginnings

The Persecuted . Rizia • Kaminee

TNTIL THIL

Vincas

2 3 1811 :

LAVIC

za OL

S

IRLIAMAINO

THOMANIOLA

Edited by Ananda Lal

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Indian Drama in English: The Beginnings

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Indian Drama in English The Beginnings

Edited by

Ananda Lal

Krishna Mohana Banerjea, The Persecuted Michael Madhusudan Dutt, Rizia (Anonymous,) Kaminee

Jadavpur University Press 2019

Indian Drama in English: The Beginnings Edited by Ananda Lal

© Introductions and Notes Ananda Lal, 2019

All rights reserved, including those of translations into other languages. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Jadavpur University Press, Jadavpur University, Kolkata 700 032 ISBN: 978-93-83660-52-0 Printed by Sarat Impressions Pvt Ltd

Cover design and illustration: Sujaan Mukherjee Layout: Kawshik Aki

Published with financial assistance from the Centre of Advanced Study, Department of English, Jadavpur University

Contents Acknowledgements General Introduction The Persecuted by Krishna Mohana Banerjea Introduction The Play Rizia by Michael Madhusudan Dutt Introduction The Play Kaminee Introduction The Play

7 9 15 17 25 75 77 91 195 197 207

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This book is the result of a research project undertaken by me for the Centre of Advanced Study, Department of English, Jadavpur University, with financial assistance from the University Grants Commission. I acknowledge this support most gratefully, for it enabled me to enlist the help of several Project Fellows over the years in assorted tasks, including the labour-intensive keying-in of soft copies at the initial stage. The project necessitated the reproduction of the rare original books from the only libraries that hold them. For this service, I am obliged to the National Library, Kolkata (for The Persecuted), and the British Library, London (for Kaminee), whose Lead Curator for South Asia, Nur Sobers-Khan, kindly got the pages photographed because the play is bound along with other texts in a Tract from the India Office collection. My reconstruction of Rizia was made possible thanks entirely to the generous cooperation of the Tagore family of Pathuriaghata, Kolkata, who allowed me to consult Dutt’s manuscript in their possession. The Department’s former student, Pramantha Mohun Tagore, went out of his way to facilitate my back-breaking single-handed transcription of its extremely fragile pages. I have asked so many people so many apparently trivial questions about these plays and authors that to name them all would not be possible. But I must record my gratitude to Dr Devajit Bandyopadhyay for always hearing me out patiently and offering nuggets of often unrelated information from his priceless repertoire of knowledge, Professor Chittabrata Palit for material on K. M. Banerjea, Professor Pallab Sengupta for essays on Rizia, and Ranajoy Bose of the Christian Burial Board, Kolkata, for locating the grave of John Belmont Gomes. Ananda Lal Former Professor Department of English Jadavpur University

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GENERAL INTRODUCTION Despite noteworthy contributions in recent decades, book history in India remains a fledgling discipline, vast regions of terra incognita lying unmapped, as well as frustrating due to the unavailability of primary material, the books themselves. The absence of a culture of methodical library acquisition compared to the repositories and networks in Europe and North America, the randomness of specific collections, and the haphazard manner in which most of them are stocked and catalogued (if at all), frequently result in the abandonment of projects simply because one cannot locate a rare title essential to one’s work, even after time consuming, exhaustive searches. These missing volumes may not date to a remote past, but to periods closer to us such as the nineteenth century. Indian literature in English suffers considerably from these lacunae, affecting the writing of its authentic history. Many of its trailblazing books published in the early nineteenth century do not survive in our libraries. We may know their titles from secondary sources, but we cannot read them because we cannot trace them. Since many of the authors of these sources could not find them either, substantial misinformation about them circulates in print, recycled by later researchers who rely on those sources without investigating them. Dependable literary histories themselves become questionable: one can cite any number of instances where a scholar has claimed a particular book as a milestone, overlooking earlier ones that had certainly existed, though they may have vanished from our ken. The most celebrated and somewhat debated recent example is The Travels of Dean Mahomet (1794), rediscovered in the 1990s and automatically pushing back the start of Indian writing in English. Let us narrow our scope to the area covered in this compilation: drama in English. For a long time, following K. R. Srinivasa Iyengar’s authoritative tome, Indian Writing in English (1962 up to its fifth edition, 1985), readers accepted that the first play in English by an Indian was Michael Madhusudan Dutt’s Is This Called Civilization?

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Indian Drama in English: The Beginnings

(1871).1 Obviously, as the present anthology proves, that was not the case, but many new critical works continue to perpetuate this incorrect information, and sometimes even credit Dutt himself as the translator (he wrote the Bengali original, Ekei ki bale sabhyatā). In fact, my quest for this English rendition—one of those books referred to above that seem to have disappeared from the face of the earth—revealed that it was translated by D. N. (Dwarkanath) Banerjee, certainly not by Dutt.2 Meanwhile, Kumudini Mehta’s doctoral dissertation at the University of Bombay in 1960, which gained notice much later because it remained unpublished, appeared to suggest that one of the fathers of Parsi theatre in Bombay, Cooverji Sorabjee Nazir, had composed and published a verse drama titled “The First Parsi Baronet” in 1866.3 Unlike her customary meticulous annotation, she did not provide bibliographical details for this book. I believe she confused it with the biography of Sir Jamsetji Jeejeebhoy by the same name (except for the spelling Parsee instead of “Parsi”) which Nazir indeed authored and published that same year, based partly on a poem by “Munsookh”.4 It seems improbable that one person would have written an identically-titled play and biography, both published in 1866. It is more plausible that Nazir, who did compose drama in English, may even have staged such a biographical play by himself in verse, but did not eventually print it. Proceeding backwards to the 1840s, we come across two early plays that do survive. One, Kishun Koovur: a tragedy in five acts by Soobrow, Dewan to the Raja of Travancore (Trivandrum: Government Press, 1840), has been digitized online by Google Books, thus obviating the 1

2 3 4

K. R. Srinivasa Iyengar, Indian Writing in English, 5th ed. (New Delhi: Sterling, 1985), 226. Repeated in such reference works as Amaresh Datta, ed., Encyclopedia of Indian Literature, volume II (New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi, 1988), 1069. “Bengal Library Catalogue of Books”, Appendix (No. II) to The Calcutta Gazette, 20 September 1871, 18-19. Kumudini A. Mehta, “English Drama on the Bombay Stage in the Late Eighteenth Century and in the Nineteenth Century”, 180. Preface to Cooverji Sorabjee Nazir, The First Parsee Baronet (Bombay: Union Press, 1866), vi. Munsookh, or Mansukh, was the pen name of Muncherji Cawasji Shapurji, a prolific Parsi Gujarati author.

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

11

necessity to reprint it. The other, The Spirits of the East: a lyrical drama by “A Bengal Civilian” (Calcutta: Ostell and Lepage, 1844), exemplifies works by British temporary residents exclusively about their life in India, which does not fall within our purview, strictly speaking. For similar reasons but at an even further remove, we cannot admit the eighteenth century tragedies by Alexander Dow, who spent a long period here in the employ of the East India Company, such as Zingis (1769, on Genghis Khan) and Sethona (1774, on ancient Egypt). The recent restoration of K. M. Banerjea’s The Persecuted (1831) to its rightful chronological position marks the true commencement of Indian drama in English. Consequently, this form too, alongside her sisters, poetry (with Henry Derozio) and fiction (with Kylash Chunder Dutt), debuted before Macaulay’s controversial and demonized Minute, which most detractors blame for the imposition of English on Indians after 1835. Evidently, many Indians chose English for their literary excursions prior to that date. However, the lack of easy access to The Persecuted led to merely generalized comments on it in the history books.5 Nobody could write a thoroughly-considered study of it in English. By reprinting it, one hopes to encourage critics to examine it closely, as well as the two other original plays in English also made available to an English readership here for the first time since their first publication. (As I observe later at the relevant places, a few books in Bengali have included the texts by Banerjea and M. M. Dutt, but these collections would be unknown to non-Bengali audiences and, besides, they contain far too many typographical mistakes that misconstrue meanings.) By pure happenstance, then, the dramatic representation in this anthology originates from British-ruled Calcutta. Of course, it could be argued that Dutt lived, wrote and printed fragments of Rizia in Madras, but he returned to his hometown Calcutta afterwards and won renown as a Bengali author based there. The writer of the third play, Kaminee, preferred to remain anonymous and may not have been an Indian by birth, but it seems likely that he (she?) resided in Calcutta, since he deals 5

For example in Arvind Krishna Mehrotra, ed., An Illustrated History of Indian Literature in English (Delhi: Permanent Black, 2003), 6 and 337.

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Indian Drama in English: The Beginnings

with urban Bengali society, and published it from a respectable Calcutta press. Sharing a unity of authorial location, these three plays spanning forty years nevertheless offer varied themes, from religious orthodoxy and persecution to the historical tragedy of a Muslim queen to the social treatment of young widows. I make no claims that they constitute excellent drama, but no literary tradition produced a masterpiece at its beginning, whereas this trio does present core issues that concern us today. A final point in common—and one that might explain a certain amateurishness in their composition—is that none of these plays made it to the stage, as far as we know. English-language theatre did exist in Calcutta at the time, but mainly by the British and for the British, while “native” students at the academies and colleges only recited and enacted scenes from Shakespeare supervised as part of their education. Thus, Banerjea and Dutt, both pupils at Hindoo College, not only knew their Shakespeare perfectly but also performed in Shakespearean roles for invited audiences in public spaces: Banerjea as Horatio in 1829 at Government House, Dutt as Gloucester (Henry VI) in 1834 at Town Hall.6 We can discern the influence of a somewhat dated English in the dialogues of their own contrivance, as they could not test their writing in the theatres. On the other hand, I should draw readers’ attention to a relatively little-known fact: “as Samachar Darpan in its issue of 17 September 1831 reports, a Committee was formed for establishing a theatre on the model of the English theatre. The plays, it was said, would be presented in English.”7 The committee consisted of prominent Bengali Hindus, one of whom, Prosunno Coomar (Prasanna Kumar) Tagore, acted on the resolution and established the Hindu Theatre at his garden estate in Narkeldanga, Calcutta. The stage historian Sushil Kumar Mukherjee describes it as “the first theatre founded by a Bengali, housed in the Bengali

6 7

Ananda Lal and Sukanta Chaudhuri, ed., Shakespeare on the Calcutta Stage: A Checklist (Calcutta: Papyrus, 2001), 25-26. Sushil Kumar Mukherjee, The Story of the Calcutta Theatres: 1753–1980 (Calcutta: K P Bagchi, 1982), 13. The next quotation also comes from this page.

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

13

quarter of the city, for a Bengali audience.” It opened on 28 December 1831, just a month after Banerjea published The Persecuted, but not with an original play. The programme, performed by students of Hindoo and Sanskrit Colleges as well as others, for a private invited audience of Europeans and Indians, started with Act I of Bhavabhuti’s Sanskrit classic Uttara-Rāma-charita, translated into English by an eminent member of the management of Hindoo College, H. H. Wilson, and ended with Act V of Julius Caesar. On 29 March 1832, Hindu Theatre staged a slight farce with an oriental theme, titled Nothing Superfluous. Into the 1850s, before turning once and for all to the performance of new drama in their mother tongue, Bengalis cultivated publicly their theatrical aspirations in English. Two amateur initiatives in mainly Bengali-inhabited north Calcutta introduced ticketed shows (not exclusively for invitees) of Shakespeare in English: the Oriental Theatre presented Othello, The Merchant of Venice and Henry IV (1853–55) and the Jorasanko Theatre (not the later, more famous one of the same name set up by the Tagores) produced Julius Caesar in 1854. Lest we forget, Dutt was writing Rizia in Madras at this time. Thus we should not presume that conditions were not conducive for theatre by Indians in English, though they naturally favoured Shakespeare, and dissenting scripts by young dramatists may indeed have not interested the ruling elite. As a theatre director and theatre critic, I regard the three plays in this volume worthy of revival because of their content, so relevant to contemporary times. I can visualize them done either in academic antiquarian mode, replicating the social history of their context, or, more easily, edited and revised to suit current stage style and viewing expectations. That would be perhaps the most fitting tribute to these long-forgotten pioneers. Ananda Lal

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THE PERSECUTED by

Krishna Mohana Banerjea

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INTRODUCTION Krishna Mohana Banerjea (1813-85) belonged to the vanguard of the Young Bengal movement—the student rebels of Hindoo (which later became Presidency) College, Calcutta, who found a mentor in their young teacher Henry Derozio, appointed in 1827. Banerjea, only four years junior to Derozio and a free scholar in the college since 1824, did not study under him directly, but soon gravitated towards him and frequented his home. Derozio used to meet many students informally at reading circles; regulars there included Banerjea, Ram Gopal Ghose, Peary Chand Mittra, Rasik Krishna Mallik and Dakshina Ranjan Mukerjea, who also formed the core of a debating club by the name of Academic Association. They often gathered at Banerjea’s own family house in Guruprasad Chowdhury Lane, north of the college. Derozio instilled in them a spirit of critical enquiry, which led to their questioning of the conservative Hindu society of their background, even though Banerjea himself came from upper-caste Brahmin lineage. Banerjea ranked first in his class, graduating from Hindoo College in 1829, and joined the nearby Pataldanga School (later renamed Hare School) as an assistant teacher, continuing there for two years. In February 1830, the Managing Committee of Hindoo College, scandalized by the growing anti-Hindu sentiments among its wards, passed a resolution: “The teachers are particularly enjoined to abstain from any communication on the subject of the Hindu religion with the boys, or to suffer any practices inconsistent with the Hindu notions of propriety, such as eating or drinking in the School. Any deviation from this injunction will be reported ... and should it appear that the teacher is at all culpable he will forthwith be dismissed.”1 A year later, in April 1831, the situation not having improved, the Managing Committee met again:

1

Ramachandra Ghosha, A Biographical Sketch of The Rev. K. M. Banerjea, introduced by Asis Das Gupta & Probodh Biswas (Calcutta: Progressive Publishers, 1980), 11. Originally printed at the Samya Press, Calcutta, in 1893.

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Indian Drama in English: The Beginnings

The object of convening this meeting is the necessity of checking the growing evil, and the public alarm arising from the very unwarranted arrangements and misconduct of a certain teacher to whom a great many children have been trusted, who, it appears, has materially injured their morals, and introduced some strange system, the tendency of which is destructive to their moral character and to the peace of society. ... The consequence is, that no less than twenty-five pupils of respectable families have been withdrawn from the College ... no less than a hundred and sixty boys absent; some of whom are supposed to be sick; but many have proposed to remove, unless proper remedies are adopted.2 Despite the opposition of such eminent members as the Indologist Dr H. H. Wilson and educationist David Hare, the majority on the Committee sought Derozio’s dismissal. Within two days, Derozio heard about it and sent his resignation (25 April). In May, Banerjea launched his weekly periodical, significantly titled The Enquirer, which attacked Hinduism vitriolically. Most unfortunately, in August, a momentous event occurred in his life, which I shall leave to the narration of Ramachandra Ghosha, a close associate of Banerjea in his later years: On the 23rd August, 1831, Mr. Banerjea’s friends, the dissidents from idolatry, met at his house for the purpose of discussion. Mr. Banerjea was then engaged at the Pataldanga School; and he returned home at the usual hour. Carried away by impulse they ate some roast beef which they had brought from the bazar; and inorder [sic] to furnish the most emphatic proof of their mastery over prejudice, and of their contempt of the ordinances of Hinduism, proceeded in heedless and reckless levity to toss the remainder amid shouts of “there is beef! there is beef!” into the adjoining residence of two of the most bigoted Brahmans by name Bhairavachandra and 2

Ghosha, 12-13.

The Persecuted

Sambhuchandra Chakravartti. This ill-advised frolic so exasperated the younger, the elder being then out, that he furiously rushed into Mr. Banerjea’s family-house to avenge the insult and assault him and his friends. No confession, no apology would suffice. The family of Mr. Banerjea was appealed to indignantly by the orthodox community. The only alterntve [sic] now left to them was to excommunicate the arch offender. Never did Mr. Banerjea submit to man, never did he compromise. Although he was innocent in this affair, he was at last compelled to part with his relatives towards midnight, and encounter serious personal risk from the excited populace, who speedily rallied around the infuriated Brahman and waited in the street. The excited mob broke in upon Mr. Banerjea and his friends who with great difficulty effected their escape. One who heard the piercing shriek of his venerable mother can never forget it, and Christendom can have no experience of it. What man, woman, or child had not heard of the name and of the doings of Mr. Banerjea. Next morning the news spread like wild fire through Calcutta, which was in an uproar. The Hindu College was almost deserted. Mr. Banerjea was now without a home. He could not find shelter over his head; and he consequently wandered about for a day. At last his friend Mr. Dakshinaranjan Mukerjea, who subsequently, as the result of his services in the Mutiny, found himself a Raja and Talukdar of Oudh, offered him quarters in his house where he resided for some weeks. “We left,” wrote he, “the home where we passed our infant days; we left our mother that nourished us in our childhood; we left our brothers with whom we associated in our earliest days; we left our sisters with whom we sympathized since they were born.”3 3

Ghosha, 15-16.

19

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Indian Drama in English: The Beginnings

Banerjea himself wrote about it in The Enquirer: “Persecution has burst upon us so vehemently, that on Wednesday last at 12 o’clock we were left without a roof to cover our head. At last in spite of the bigot’s rage and fanatic’s fulminations, we have been able to be settled in a commodious place, through the exertions of two affectionate friends and warm advocates for truth.”4 On 28 September, the anti-Banerjea camp stormed Mukerjea’s residence in his absence and evicted Banerjea. Most upset, Mukerjea himself moved out and lived with his friend in lodgings close to Derozio’s, and then took him to his own father-in-law’s house. Not feeling safe even there, Banerjea eventually found refuge in the home of the Scottish missionary Dr Alexander Duff5 under cover of darkness. In November, he published The Persecuted from East Indian Press (which used to print Derozio’s daily newspaper) at two rupees for subscribers and three for non-subscribers, as recorded by Ghosha. It created quite a stir. According to the Samāchār Darpan, 3 December 1831: We have received from the author Baboo [Babu] Krishna Mohan Banerjea, a copy of “The Persecuted,” a drama. The work is executed with considerable skill, and considering that the author writes in a foreign tongue, the English is very good. To analyze its contents in the present state of native society in Calcutta would be a delicate matter. It represents the Brahmins as men who draw a subsistence from the delusion and folly of their disciples. It describes the rich natives generally as having departed from the rules of Hindooism and indulging in sensuality. We have, however, no hesitation in saying, that though the censures are severe, they are not unjust. A very great laxity does prevail among the 4

5

As extracted in John Bull, 1 October 1831. Quoted by Brajendranath Banerji, “A Drama on Hindu Society in Calcutta by Rev. K. M. Banerjea”, The Calcutta Municipal Gazette, Seventeenth Anniversary Number, 6 December 1941, 95. According to Ghosha, however, “in the house of a European” where Duff visited him (Ghosha, 17).

The Persecuted

21

natives of the metropolis; and those who are loud in their outcry against the Nastiks, the term by which the recent dissidents from Hindooism are called, would, if judged by the shastras they themselves venerate, be considered as having forfeited their privileges as Hindoos.6 On 17 December, Derozio fell sick with cholera, and succumbed to the dread disease on the 23rd. Banerjea and others had stayed at his bedside right through. The following year, on 17 October 1832, Banerjea embraced Christianity, the second of Duff’s converts—causing a sensation in Calcutta Hindu circles, and which no less an eminence than Dwarkanath Tagore (Rabindranath’s grandfather, himself fond of socializing with the British) supposedly attributed to “beef and brandy”.7 Subsequently, Banerjea won a scholarship to Bishop’s College to study theology and became deacon of the new Christ Church at Cornwallis Square in 1837, and professor of Bishop’s College in 1852. A polyglot in eleven languages and a polymath, he compiled an Encyclopedia Bengalensis in thirteen volumes, became a member of the Royal Asiatic Society, was appointed Fellow and Dean of the Faculty of Arts, University of Calcutta, elected first President of the Indian Association in 1876, and twice elected Municipal Commissioner of Calcutta. He wrote several books including his magnum opus, Dialogues on the Hindu Philosophy (London, 1861), and innumerable articles, and translated from Sanskrit. But he never tried his hand at drama again. Curiously, nobody has attempted a full biography of this remarkable personality. We could speculate whether Banerjea composed The Persecuted to reach out to a readership only, or whether he actually had performance in mind, given that he must have known of the Bengali initiative to start an English theatre that fructified in December 1831, which I mention in my General Introduction. Then again, he must have also gravely doubted that this Hindu Theatre would hazard his radical play. After all, at this theatre, 6 7

Quoted by Banerji, 95-96. Nāstik means “atheist”. Ghosha, 20.

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Indian Drama in English: The Beginnings

“some young Hindoo gentlemen admirably schooled in the Histrionic Art exercise their talents for the amusement of their native and European friends who are admitted by invitation.”8 The incendiary material in Banerjea’s drama and the determination of his firebrand protagonist to rightfully, rationally, fight and reform the rigid faith into which he was born could have incensed these society viewers. Significantly, after Banerjea had become a priest, he converted to Christianity the only son of Prosunno Coomar (Prasanna Kumar) Tagore, founder of the Hindu Theatre, causing the father to disinherit his son. Note on the Text The Persecuted was “reproduced” by the Calcutta Municipal Gazette in its Seventeenth Anniversary Number, 6 December 1941. Although introduced by the theatre historian Brajendranath Banerji and under the direct charge of founder-editor Amal Home, the reprint contains many minor errors in transcription. Much more recently, Dr Suranjan Midde based his Bengali book incorporating the play on that text but committed substantial additional mistakes, whereas Dr Paromita Sengupta went back to the 1831 source for her edition, but also transcribed several lines and words inaccurately.9 I have restored the original 1831 publication from a facsimile of it kindly supplied by the National Library, Kolkata. Evidently of a scholarly bent even at the age of eighteen, Banerjea provided his own footnotes to explain key words and concepts, as well as a few more elaborate notes in an appendix. I have retained them, of course, adding my explanations and emendations within square brackets, while my own annotations appear along with them but in numbered sequence, to differentiate them from his asterisks and obelisks. Judging by the gradual increase in frequency of typos (all marked by me as [sic]) and carelessness in consistency of italicization as the text progresses, it 8 9

Reported by the Calcutta Courier. Quoted in Mukherjee, 14. Suranjan Midde, ed., Reverend Krishnamohan Bandyopādhyāyer “The Persecuted” (Kolkata: Anjali, 2012); and Krishna Mohana Banerjea, The Persecuted, ed. Paromita Sengupta (Kolkata: Shambhabi, 2018).

The Persecuted

23

seems likely that the author was in a rush to complete and print his play. This may also account for the relative brevity of the fourth and fifth Acts and the abrupt conclusion. Ananda Lal

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THE PERSECUTED, OR

DRAMATIC SCENES,

Illustrative of the Present State of Hindoo Society, in Calcutta.

BY

BABOO KRISHNA MOHANA BANERJEA

CALCUTTA: Published for the Author, and Printed at Messrs. A. MOREIRO & CO. East Indian Press, No. 13, Loll Bazar.

1831

Title page of The Persecuted

The Persecuted

27

DEDICATION TO

HINDOO YOUTHS. —• — The following pages are inscribed to them with sentiments of affection, and strong hopes of their appreciating those virtues and mental energies which elevate man in the estimation of a philosopher. By their ever devoted Friend, and Servant, KRISHNA MOHANA BANERJEA. Calcutta, 12th Nov. 1831.

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The Persecuted

29

PREFACE. In submitting the following pages to the public, the Author feels inclined to observe that the reader will be disappointed if he looks after dramatic excellence in the following pages. The intention was not to preserve that link unbroken which tragedies and comedies are distinguished by. The Author’s purpose has been to compute its excellence by measuring the effects it will produce upon the minds of the rising generation. The inconsistencies and the blackness of the influential members of the Hindoo commuity [sic] have been depicted before their eyes. They will now clearly perceive the wiles and the tricks of the Bramins1 and thereby be able to guard themselves against them. It was not the author’s object to invent a story and preserve a connection throughout. He has just taken advantage of a plan that suited his purpose best and expatiated on what may be termed the “pith and marrow” of his publication. He pledges he has “nothing extenuated nor set down aught in malice.” It is just as well for the author to make an apology for the imperfections in style and English composition that his work may contain. His knowledge of the English language depends solely upon the education afforded to him by the Hindoo College through the kind recommendation of the Calcutta School Society. Under the consideration that the author has not yet arrived at the age of twenty—that he was born of parents and brought up by men whose language, manners, and customs are in no respects similar to those of the people in whose dialect he has published the following production—and that he was not assisted by any in the work, every generous mind will be ready to overlook his defects. He hopes he has been intelligible to all in the following pages. The author, avails himself of this opportunity of expressing his feelings of thankfulness to those gentlemen that have honoured him with 1

Spelt in this way throughout the text. In the transcription, I have retained the original printed spellings of English words and formatting to stay as close to the source as possible.

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Indian Drama in English: The Beginnings

their support. He can not help acknowledging the great encouragement he has received from the English community in particular; several gentlemen having each subscribed for, from 2 to 6 copies. As the following is the author’s first production of the kind, his feelings impel him to give his warmest thanks to the Visitor Managers and Teachers of the Hindoo College, and the Secretary and members of the Calcutta School Society, for the education he has freely received through their favours and superintendance.

The Persecuted

31

PERSONS REPRESENTED. Kambed [sic = Kāmdeb; Kamdeb in text]2, Debnauth [Debnāth], Ram Lochun [Lochan], Lall [Lāl] Chand, Proprietor of a Newspaper.

}

Orthodox Hindoos of influence and respectability.

Mohadeb [Mahādeb], a Hindoo. Turkolunkar [Tarkālankār], Two Bramins. Bydhabagis [Bidyābāgish], Bany [either Bāni or Beni] Lal, Shamnauth [Shyāmnāth], Young Hindoos. Indranauth [Indranāth], Chunder Coomar [Chandra Kumār],

}

}

Bhyrub [Bhairab], Kadur Mohun [Kedār Mohan], Sumbal [Sambal] Chand, Hurry [Hari] Chand, Ram Mohun [Mohan],

}

Hindoo Youths.

Denonauth [Dinanāth], Son of Debnauth. An Old Servant. A Young Servant. A Bramin. Servants, Bearers, and others. Scene—Calcutta.

2

I have provided the accepted modernized spellings within parentheses, and macrons above the long vowel ā, to help readers. Some of the characters’ names are spelt inconsistently in the text.

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THE PERSECUTED. — • — ACT I. SCENE 1 A Hall in Mohadeb’s house Enter A YOUNG SERVANT. Young Servant. The course of nature is indeed inexplicable. Water carries fire within it; and cold emits heat. Our Kurta* spends hours and hours after devotion; my young master—ha! what does he—eats beef in his room!—ha! ha! ha!—fine contrast—excessive devotion on the one hand, and eating beef in the other!—Kurta’s old servant eats Gopal’s prosaud;† I—supply my Baboo with bread and meat—Fine indeed; nay very fine until these are not discovered; very fine until I taste not old Mahadeb’s resentment; very fine until Kurta is ignorant of these. Enter an old servant. Old Servant. Hurry bole!3 Hurry bole! what crimes! what vices! Hurry bole! Hurry bole! Young servant4. Haloah! why is the ass braying (aside)—Good Sir, what is the matter?

3 4

Hari bol (“Speak the name of Hari”). Hari is another name of Vishnu. The capitalization of Servant is inconsistent in the text.

* †

Means the head of a family [kartā in accepted transliteration] In almost all Hindoo families there are house hold [sic] gods. These gods are designated by the names of Gopal, Godhadhur [Gadādhar] &c. &c.—The Hindoos by means of munters [mantras] dedicate eatables to these gods—these eatables after being so dedicated to the deities are called prosauds [prasād]. It is great virtue to eat them.

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Old Servant. Matter!—Narayen!5 Narayen!—O the baneful effects of the Coly Joug!6 Before it was supposed that vice would triumph over virtue; now such an incident is realized.—Gods! could it for a moment be conceived, the son of such a godlike man would be so degenerated. Young Servant. Venerable Sir—I fear the devil (aside)—What is the reason of this agitation? I am much concerned, please therefore explain yourself. Old Servant. Young man! there is no more security to be expected in this house. Vice has entered these abodes once so pure. The family is no more brilliant. Young rakes will undo what the old took so much pains to achieve. The predictions of the sages are all realized. The reign of virtue is come to an end. The earth will soon be punished by deluge. The rage of vice has commenced, and all will come to a miserable end! The reputation which the very name of the family commanded is about to sink down; the influence, which all the Mookerjies by their virtues on the one hand, and their rojecars* on the other, gained, is soon to be down. All that dexterity they acquired money with, is fruitless. Gods! when I took him in my lap, could I for a moment think that I was fostering one that would ruin my master! Young Servant. I fear the old judas [sic] has discovered (aside).—As yet Sir you have not satisfied my curiosity. OldServant. Whythenbepreparedtohearwhat will shockthyfeelings. Banylal, my master’s eldest son, has with a number of his young friends—O unbecoming the holy character of the family! O most unrighteous, vile, and unnatural!—this very night in the northern apartment above the tosa Khana7 committed an action which will be an everlasting disgrace upon this unspotted family. I saw them sitting at a table through the key hole in the door, and tasting things made by a Juvan8 and of Juvan materials!—I 5 6 7 8

*

Narayan. Another name of Vishnu. The household is Vaishnava. Kali Yuga, in which we live, the last and worst of the four eons in Hindu mythology. [toshākhānā] A locker room where valuables were stored. Yavan, originally from Sanskrit for “Ionian” = Greek, later used generically for European or Muslim. [rojkār] The act of making money; of course not considering ... [illegible]

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stood struck with surprize and indignation. My soul shrunk with horror. My hair stood up like bristles. O Shameful! Shameful! Shameful! Young Servant. O how will he bray out if he hear I supplied my young Baboo with those things (aside.)—Indeed! Indeed! Sir—I cannot believe such a story. Old Servant. I assure you, it is true.—Andthen I overheard them saying these practices are not crimes! Most sacrilegious! they were heaping our religion with the most abusive epithets. They say our Krishna was immoral because he had intercourse with his numerous Gopeenees9! O shameful! they say Hindooism is stuffed with absurdities; most sacrilegious! O what a baneful age is this, O what a destructive joug10! how degenerate these your fellows are! I must away and tell my master all these pursuits. Young Servant. Ha,—I fear the rascal (aside.)—O—Sir, young men can be excused for doing these—there is no necessity of letting the Kurta know them. It is just as well to drop them in silence. When they grow old they will give up these pursuits of themselves. O they are young men and may be excused. Old Servant. Young men! may be excused! you, fool, they may not be excused—Excused for such an action! no; I must go and tell my master. [exit] Young Servant. No—all is not well.—This old Jackass is surely dangerous. The Kurta will be mad, if he hears I was accessary [sic] in the matter. My Baboo’s attachment to me will not save me from the Kurta’s anger. There can be no enjoyment until this old rascal is out of the way. Neither my Baboo nor myself can possibly enjoy peace so long as this devil remains here in service.—He cried “hurry bole!” “hurry bole!” ha! ha! ha!— if he once taste those things—the very victuals that shock him now, will then be his favourite eatables. His “hurry bole!” will all go to the devil, if he once knows the taste of wine and meat. His “narayen!” “narayen!” will be all lost when he experiences the sweets of Burgundy.—He calls my Baboo a blot upon the family; ha! ha! ha!—fool! fool! he himself will feel happy to be such a blot if he knows the sweets of it—Ha–my Baboo comes; 9 Gopinis. 10 yuga.

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Enter BANY LAL. Bany. Who’s there? Servant. Sir, your devoted servant. Bany. Go, with haste, and clean the plates, Knives [sic], and forks. We have done.—You fool I told you to bring claret, you brought Brandy [sic]; we could drink nothing but water. Spirits are pernicious and cannot be drank. Young Servant. Good Sir.—This evening an unfortunate event has transpired; one that may ruin me and undo you. Bany. What is the matter? You fool. Young Servant. While you and your friends were at the table dining; even now, your father’s old servant, saw and heard all that passed. I was standing here waiting your orders, when in rushed the decripid [sic] man exclaiming, “hurry bole!” “hurry bole!” and subsequently told me that you were dining. His rage against you was inexpressible. In madness ran he to tell your father all that he saw. I endeavoured to dissuade him, but he is obstinate. Consider Sir, all these. It is not an idle matter. I go to obey your orders (exit) Bany. What do I hear? Am I discovered?—Well—I am not surprized.—I anticipated all that are now transpiring, when first I began to feel hostile to Hindooism.—Such occurrences must happen. When knowledge has begun its march, Hindooism must fall and must fall with noise. Reformation must come on and excite heart-burning jealousies among men.—Gods! what will my father think when he hears these? What will the bigots say when they understand my thoughts and feelings?—I fear—I fear—not for the bigot’s rage and the priest’s thunders. But I fear—I fear—for my old father; these matters after his death would be blessings; but now they will poison my comforts. The old man will be lost in horror and surprize. His life may be affected—What scenes are coming! Am I at last to be instrumental in bringing on his death? The very thought is misery.— Philosophy! art thou so weak? Is nature so strongly opposed to thee!— Aye;—but this will not surprize me. I expected this and am prepared for it—prejudice and liberalism can not long reign under the same roof without a rupture.

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Enter A YOUNG SERVANT. Young Sevt. I have cleaned the plates, Sir; but have a word with you. Your father’s old brute was hot with rage; it is probable that he will mention what he saw to your father; This may give rise to an enquiry about the matter, and subsequently lead to my detection. Dear Sir, what will be my fate in this case? Bany. Why you fool, you need not fear while I am living.— Young Sevt. But why not let us join to check the old fellow? if you deny flatly what the rascal will say he may be justly punished—. Bany. Deny what I have done!—you—would not have been a servile servant otherwise.—You fool there is no talking with you—I know what to do better. Come, it is late; assist me in undressing and going to bed—It is late. Exeunt. SCENE 2. A Street Enter TURKOLUNKAR AND BYDHABAGIS. Turk. To be a Bramin is a great blessing. Is it not Bydhabagis? Bydh. Is it not?—ha! ha! ha!—Who the devil would fatten so well upon the bounty of others. By once going and uttering “Baboo Assyrbad*!” we return home with pockets full. —The fellows that feed us are jackasses in the strictest sense of this word. They understand none of the tricks we play upon them. Fools; they adore us; they bow to us; they drink the water dropped after washing our feet;—ha! ha! ha! what asses are they?——— Turk. Greater brutes never lived in the world. They call us Gods; as if we had more hands and noses than other people. O how I wish that these asses continue involved in all these prejudices!—

*

[āshirbād] This is the word by which the Bramins pour their blessings upon the Hindoos.

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Bydha. Yesterday I went in the afternoon to my sishos’ house.11—O greater brutes I never saw in my life—The moment I entered their door—O what fools they were—they all fell prostrate before me, and having seated me upon an eminence began to bow down and heap my feet with their rupees, annas, and pice. I laid my feet upon their heads and they deemed themselves particularly blessed! Fools. Turko. Aye, fools they are; but their folly is very advantageous to us.—I would wish the whole face of India exhibited as foolish a scene. My sishos constantly pray to heaven that they may be able to see me at their house: although my appearance tends only to throw them into poverty. They look upon my visit as that of a god; although it exhausts their purse. O! What debasement these fellows are labouring under! Bydha. So much the better for us; be they superstitious or not we care little; let our pockets be filled and that is all we need. Turko. True; I think we are better off than Bramins of old ages. I believe we are much indebted to our predecessors for having paved the way to our advantage. I believe we owe them all the benefits we at present enjoy. Bydha. Exactly so, what are we now? what do we know? why are we respected and adored?—not for any qualification on our part, because we have none. It is solely in consequence of what our predecessors did, that we enjoy so much influence. They propagated sentiments respecting the sanctity of Braminism which the people imbibed, and which at present are so serviceable to us.—So you see the thanks we ought to give to their memory. Turko. By the way, it struck me a long time ago, and I intended to communicate to you; but it always escaped my mind. What do you think of the wickedness of the present age?—The coldness and the indifference with which we are treated by the young men of this age. The want of respect that we perceive in them; What think you of these? Bydha. I have also observed the like; but no heed is to be taken of them. They are young men—they have not yet been so enervated in prejudice as their parents are; they have not yet been taught to believe our assumed 11 [shishya] See the author’s own more detailed “Notes and Illustrations” at the end, which he appended to the play. His first Note there refers to this passage.

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sanctity; nature is yet strong in them. When they will be trained properly, they will be as warm in our favour as their parents are. Turko. Aye, but the indifference they show us is, I am apt to suppose, very considerable. Their constant intercourse with Europeans—a set of men not in favour of our aggrandisement you know—gives me occasion to fear much. I have heard some question our sanctity!—Europeans, you are aware, are very unfavourable to us. They are decidedly opposed to the influence we command. They dislike the adoration the natives have for us. They are anxious to see us upon an equal footing with all men. Bydha. Never fear; Never fear; It is impossible for any to undo us now. We are too firmly established to be shaken off. The Hindoos adore us and look upon us as gods; they cannot fall back at once. We shall not lose a particle of the influence we now enjoy. Fear not my friend. Go on with your tricks;—impose upon your sishos more cleverly, and with less fear of being detected, than you have hitherto done. Our position is strong; we have a greater command over the minds of men than you suppose. The Bramin is a blessed man. He tramples upon the very persons whose bounty feeds him. May things remain for ever as they are now, and may we thus subsist upon the clever tricks we play, and the frauds we practise, upon the Hindoos! (Exeunt.) SCENE 3D. A HALLIN MOHADEB’S HOUSE. Enter MOHADEB and an Old SERVANT. Moha. But—oh gods—Did you see with your own eyes, or do you speak from surmises. Old Sevt. Surmises! I saw with these eyes, you see here if I have still life upon me. Moha. O what—who joined him said’st thou? Old Sevt. His friends of the School. Moha. O dear!—knowest thou any of them? Old Sevt. I saw them before, and can recognize their persons—but know not their names.

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Moha. How were they sitting; upon a mat? Old Sevt. At a table and upon chairs. Moha. O worse than—what were they taking did you say? Old Sevt. Bread, biscuit, roast meat and wine. Moha. O gods—! were they taking meat? Old Sevt. They were Sir. Moha. O accursed hour! I am undone!—What!—my son would do such—!—it is death to think.—What misfortunes gods are you heaping upon me! Am I the object of your rage? An only son I had, and hoped to see virtuous and great; my hopes are gone—What vices!—I heard a rumour that they are young men whose minds are unrestrained; I scarcely believed it. I now feel it was true, and have the mortification to see my own son among the number! Heavens! what will my kindred think when they hear this! O what a disgrace upon the family! My grand father [sic] I have heard, preserved a strict observance of our sacred laws.—My father never touchd an eatable before washing the feet of a Bramin;—Why is my Son so degenerated? Why is he so unworthy of his ancestors? O heavy grief! Is my Son to be one of those that are hated and detested? Am I so unfortunate? Why was I not dead before I heard these? O gods! O gods! Why these misfortunes in my old age? Old Sevt. Please you Sir, be comforted. Mahadeb.12 Comforted!—comforted when my Son is—old man there is no comfort for me; there are no pleasures for me. I am gone. An everlasting farewell to happiness. O Gods! why did you not take me out from this world when you planned these occurrences. Wherever I went, I commanded respect but now–ah, no more!—whoever mentioned my name mentioned with enthusiasm but now;—ah no more enthusiasm!—with scorn will they talk of me—to come to me they will shudder—they will consider me an accursed wretch;—if before they called me good and great now they will consider me low and mean;—if before they adored me, now they will hate me.—O misery! misery! misery! Is all his reputation as a learned man come to this?—When I heard reports of his influence among the literatii my joy knew no bounds—But now—ah what a falling off— 12 The spelling of the name is often inconsistent.

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Why did he not remain in perpetual ignorance? Why have I only been so unfortunate? Who does not put his son into school? Why is he so corrupt and others unspotted? Where are my hopes gone?—I thought since he is so learned he will raise my name in the estimation of the people. O heavens! far from raising me he has hurled me down—He has lowered my ancestor’s name.—O gods! Why did you reserve these miseries for my old age? Is my son to be unworthy of me?—O heavens! Death will be welcome to me now!—I—to stop intercourse with my son?—To shudder to touch him!— To avoid his company!—Death prevent these miseries! O unfortunate, unfortunate man! (Falls in a trance; the curtain falls.)

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ACT. 2D. SCENEI. A Parlour in Mohadeb’s House. Enter AN OLD SERVANT. Old Servant. Why is a servant paid?—for the mechanical drudgery he has to perform. Why is a servant treated with regard and affection? Aye, this is an important question. For his duties as a servant he receives his wages— but why is he looked on so warmly by his master?—What is the cause of that sympathy—that warm attachment—that love and affection which kind masters show to their servants?—Why are all those tears that force out from the eyes of masters when servants are ill.—The paltry wages are our labour’s due—but the affection proceeds from the regard we entertain for our masters. The ardent love proceeds from our mutual sympathy.—The affection arises from the sincere interest we take in our masters’ welfare.— The attachment springs from the interchange of our hearts—My master Mohadeb has always considered me as one of his family; he has shed tears at my sickness and felt happy at my prosperity—He has congratulated me upon my prosperity, and sympathized in my adversity. Ifever I was ill, he attended me in person; if ever I was aggrieved, he has been my best consolation.—He has suffered with me; he has wept over me in my misfortune.—Where is he now?—in the most miserable state of mind! What am I doing for him? how have I deserved the attachment he had for me? His son is a disgrace to the family; there is no talking with him. What will restore my master to his spirit? He fell down half dead last night and is still lying in his bed. How shall I bring him up? O what an accursed son! To wound a father in his old age! Gods! what a wretch! he will contemn me if I ask him to console his father—what course is to adopted [sic]? What would Pisanio not do if Posthumous had been in misery?13—What would be too troublesome to Adam if Orlando had been like my master?—How am I more valuable than my master’s horse if I be so inactive?—He has wept for me;—what have I done?—He has personally attended me in sickness!—what have I done?— 13 See the author’s second detailed Note at the end.

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Duty, gratitude and humanity call upon me—I hear a voice like that of a spirit crying “Old man you are ungrateful!”—Gods! My master in grief, and I away!—O Shameful! Would I had wings to soar above with my master on my back that he may avoid these miseries.—exit SCENE 2D. The same Enter MOHADEB and BANYLALL Bany. That I will never be able to do. Moha. My son! my son! you are undone! what misfortunes have you brought upon me! You have ruined my family; you will ruin yourself and me. If this be known to the world—O my son! my son!—we shall be cast out— we shall lose our intercourse with our relatives and friends. O my son! look upon me with pity. Forget not the interests of your father. Acknowledge the filial tie that binds you. Do not persevere in your obstinacy.—Do, my son, prevent the evils that will inevitably fall upon me and you. O my son! weigh the matters well—hurl me not into misfortunes. Let me not be ashamed of you. Bany. Whatever be the case, Sir, I will never be able to utter a falsehood. Moha. Not utter a falsehood to save yourself from excommunication! What words are these my son? What turn does your mind take? What strange notions? How is your mind so depraved? Why are your feelings so much against your intercourse with me? What will your truth avail my son, if you be excommunicated? Why will you not deny what you have done if that would save you? Why are you so depraved? Bany. If you give way to such feelings, Sir, I cannot prevent it. But, excuse my presumption, I will neither be able to utter a falsehood, nor propagate that my feelings are changed by suffering a penance. Moha. What corruptions have crept into your mind! Who has vitiated your thoughts thus? Why is my dear son so changed? Why are you not the same Bany that you were a few years ago? (taking him by the arm.) O my son! Turn your eyes here; see who is before you; look upon the face of a father beseeching you to pity him; have you not a heart within you? Does it not

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melt at this? O what a corruption! Is it knowledge that has wrought this unhappy change? O miserable! miserable! Will you disgrace the high name of our family? Must it be said that my son was a dishonor to the line of my remarkable forefathers?—Do, my dear, prevent these. Have some regard for our caste. I care not for the most dissolute life you may lead. But do preserve our caste. Upon my knee (kneeling) I conjure you, give up this practice—I beseech you, deny what you have done and undergo a penance. Conceive here your father kneeling before you and crying for mercy. Bany. (Raising him.) Dear Sir; be comforted; how can I with a safe conscience disgrace philosophy, disgrace humanity, and disgrace the character of man by uttering what is not a fact. Moha. O at length I perceive the miseries awaiting me! I see the infamy posterity will heap upon me. I see the day when my joys will end. I see all the miseries awaiting my family. O that you would be the cause of this, was never the labour of my thoughts! I never expected that you would prove to be a ruin to my family. O that this might be the last moment of my life! (Goes out in a transport of grief.) Bany. Are these the effects of knowledge?—Disagreement between father and son? The Almighty was wise when he forbad man to taste this baneful fruit. What! Is knowledge to produce all these? Is a man by renouncing superstition to fall into such difficulties? Are we to set ourselves at defiance to all the calls of nature? Is education to blunt our feelings and render us indifferent to our brothers and sisters?—is knowledge to render us indifferent to a father’s comforts? Are we to stand unmoved and cold when a father kneels before us? Nature shrinks with horror at these conceptions. What! was I so brutal, so unnatural, as to have disregarded a father’s entreaties upon his knee? Is knowledge the cause of all this revolt against nature? Shame me! what did I see? what did I do? a father—nay an affectionate indulgent father—knelt before me and I stood like a rock! Brutal and savage must I have been!—Have I been neglecting the cries of a father?—Is my heart so hard and rough? O painful!—Why did I not grant my father’s request—What!—grant his request!—what is that?—Deny a fact!—Heavens, what do I conceive?—A father versus Truth!—Aye—It is our fate to be hard. We are doomed to suffer all these misfortunes. Truth

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comes and hardens our feelings. Truth prevents us from yielding to a father’s cries and a mother’s solicitations. Utter a falsehood! deceive friends and relations by a penance!—my soul shrinks with horror at these reflections. No—a father’s cries are not stronger than those of truth. Bear strong my mind and slacken not. A father may weep; a mother may shed tears; a brother may lament; a sister may repine; but let them not triumph over truth.—A father’s feelings are not more to be consulted than the dictates of Truth. A Kindred is not to trample upon Truth. Bear witness my mind, I neglect a father for her. I break down the chains, of filial duty for Truth; Witness this and do me justice. I will bear up all like a man. (Exit.) SCENE 3D. A Street Enter TURKOLUNKAR and BYDHABAGIS meeting. Turk. Well met Bydhabagis; why look you so sulky? Bydha. (Speaking very hoarsely) No friend; I was at my sisho’s last night and of course you know what I did.14 Turk. Why? What did you? Bydha. Why got drunk; do not you know that; got drunk with rum, am and yet rather unhinged. The morning air serves me materially but yet I feel quite uncomfortable. Turko. Got drunk at your sisho’s house! What words are these Bydhabagis?— Bydha. Why, does that puzzle you?—I thought you were wiser.—got drunk!—yes; got drunk.—Is there any oddity in that?—Were you never drunk?— Turko. I do not say I was never; but I never was so publicly.— Bydha. Oho! Is that it?—Why I have expounded a course of shasters15 to them where I allowed drinking.—They are very happy—they like me exceedingly.—Their veneration for me is particularly great because I permit sensual gratifications.— 14 See the author’s third detailed Note at the end. 15 Shastras.

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Turk. I do not know what you mean—expound a course of shasters and allow drinking!—I cannot understand you. However, Bydha. I will Wellhelp thatyou is not a my little,—you fault, I amstare not to atgive my you allowing understanding.— drinking to them—I am their Gooroo16—Whatever creed I will propose to them they will be bound to observe.—They never read the shasters, and so did I: But I invented a set of doctrines and recommended to them as their shasters— They are particularly glad that drinking is allowed.— Turk. Why, you are a fine fellow indeed; you are cunning enough— Why, if I had known that, I would have done the same, and had the liberty of drinking in public.— Bydha. Upon my word you could.—You stare at this: But—ha! ha! ha! how I have succeeded!— Turk. Yes it is truly astonishing—But for the present purpose, have you heard of an occurrence lately?— Bydha. Let us hear it; what is it? ey Turko. Why we have got one of those curs, in fact the principal one— into the scrape Bydha. Don’t speak Greek ey. Turko. Why, Banylal, do not you know him? Byhda [sic]. Yes, a great rascal; what then? Turko. Why it is reported that he ate beef the other day. Bydha. O ho! Is that it you mean by getting a cur into the scrape? Well let us take advantage of the report and injure him. Turko. Aye. Aye. What is the best to do? Bydha. Why make a noise that religion is at stake, many will join you and give the fellows a good licking. Turko. We are in the greatest jeopardy. Braminism is at stake, these fellows preach against us with the greatest confidence. They are frontless. They pay no respect to us; they do only hurt our interests. Bydha. Damn the fellows, if I be a king I will burn them alive.

16 Guru.

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Turko. Well do so, but now I burn with fear. This Bany has avowedly unshackled the bonds of religion. If a few more join him there is an end to our welfare. Bydha. Yes; yes; then brandy will not be offered to me at my shisho’s with so much respect; yes, we must do something. Turko. What? What shall we do? We ourselves can do little; we want a coadjutor. Who will this be? Bydha. Why, one that can drink well. Turko. Let us better go to Lallchand. He edits a newspaper and may materially contribute to check these fellows; besides that, he commands very great influence over the wealthy part of our community.—If we can get him we can proceed so far as to kill the fellows at once. Bydha. Yes; Yes. Lallchand is a clever chap. He drinks well; I know him very well for his cunning tricks with the Ladpadries17. Yes, Yes, he will do. Turko. Well then to him let us directly. Bydha. You better go first; I will follow you; I am rather unhinged as yet. Say we go there by 11 o-clock after break fast. Turko. Be it so. (Exeunt.) SCENE 4TH. A PRINTING OFFICE Enter Lallchand and a Pundit. Lall. Yes. Well said, well said; write against the villians18 fearlessly— give biting touches respecting the growing heresy. Pun. If it please you, Sir, Lall. Then of this occurrence regarding that fellow. Expatiate upon it with freedom. Abuse the rascal as much as you possibly can without the imputation of a libel. Call him a drunkard. Pun. I believe he is not a drunkard, tho’a heretic.—

17 Possibly misspelt for lāl pādris, literally “red padres”, or Christian priests. 18 Spelt in this way throughout the text, except in Act 4.

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Lall. And what business have you to believe so Sir—I tell you to write so; and want no philosophy from you. Be he in the habit of being drunk or not call him a drunkard. Pundit. I will, Sir; I will hand you the page proofs for your order in the evening Lall. Do so. (The Pundit retires.) I must have a careful eye upon myself. These young fellows will surely be mischievous; if their sentiments be generally imbibed, there is an end to my paper. Hindooism has been already sunk down if we consider strictly; to be religious now, is to be—a—a—what do they call—a—hypocrite. What is Kamdeb himself? He gave his son in marriage while in ausoje* although he is looked upon as a model of virtue. Religion then has already been knocked down. It is still observed without, but this apparent faith will not long remain. What then am I to do for my son? Am I to train him in the orthodox way or in the heretical? If he be brought up as a religious man he will certainly suit the present time and I may go on with my thunders consistently. But I must have some eye upon the time coming. I must think that heresy will soon be the order of the day; and although by that time I shall have passed my intercourse with the world, my son then will begin his. It is accordingly meet that he who shall have to deal with heretics should also be one of them. How is this to be effected? I cannot any longer keep him at school, not only because people will consider me very inconsistent, but also because it is so expensive. Five rupees a month are worth the while of a man. What then am I to do?— These matters demand my serious consideration.—I must devise some means that heretical opinions may be implanted in his mind.—But care must positively be taken that he imbibes not those dry and useless nonsense about Truth. I am sure Truth would have ruined me if I had conformed to it.—Lallchand is a man who will show the world that he can by the force of his mind do whatever he likes—

*

If a person dies, or, if a child is born his relations are considered unfit for performing religious ceremonies; such as [sic] marriage, shrad [srāddha = funeral], &c for a certain period of time. They are then said to be in ausoje [ashauch = unclean; see the author’s fifth Note at the end].

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Enter TURKOLUNKAR and BYDHABAGIS Turko. Hail! worthy Lallchaud [sic]. —We have come to you impelled by duty; and actuated by emotions which we are proud to say, we are capable of, respecting our holy religion. Bydha. But more particularly by a fear of our pockets.—(Aside.) Lall. Well; you indeed deserve credit for your noblee [sic] motives. Bydha. For our love of rupees annas and pice more. (Aside.) Turko. What think you of the strange things now transpiring? Young fellows disregarding every considertion [sic] take beef! horrid! What is to be done for this? I am at a loss how to act. I am lost in thoughts. I know not what to do. What wickedness! Gods! the reign of vice has commenced; O Baboo Lallchand. If I could cut open my heart, I could show you the contents of it.—O Lall chand [sic] death would not hurt me so much as these considerations. Bydha. (Aside.) Turkolunkar is clever, he has put on a serious face; O his apprehensions of danger from the heresy of the age made him speak with such feelings—however he is clever. Lall. I believe I understand what you mean. You speak of that circumstance respecting that cur of Mohadeb. Bydha. We do, you have exactly hit it; what then now ought we to do? Lall. Why raise false reports against these fellows—exaggerate the least cause you may get—prejudice the people against them. Utter their names with the most abusive epithets—Do all these, nay more; I am resolved to summon all rich men to a common assembly, and laying these matters to their consideration pass an order to Mahadeb to turn his son out.—That shall be my duty. While you cry out in the roads against them, abuse them at home; abuse them every where. Go no where but speak ill of them. Alarm the natives; let every street, every road, ring with invectives against them. Do all these and fear not; I will support you as long as I breathe. Turko. We admire your holy ardour for religion; we adore your feelings as a Hindoo; we thank your generous advocacy of our order. Bydha. No street will we pass but by doing what you advised;— no house will we go to without preaching against these fellows. So with

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expressions of heartfelt thanks we take our leave, confiding upon your noble nature for the preservation of our religion. (Exeunt TURKO AND BYDHA) Lall. Ha! Ha! Ha! “my noble nature for the preservation of our religion!” what can not Lallchand do?—My “noble nature” was once changed when I passed for a Christian. It may change again if necessary, and I may again be a “liberal” as they call it if circumstances turn out strangely. Exit.

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ACT 3D. SCENEI. A Room in Lallchand’s house. LALLCHAND SITTING UPON A MAT. A Servant attending Lall. Did you hand the circular to all? (Smokes.) Servant. I did Sir; Lall. What, said they any thing? (Smokes.) Servant. Every one said “give him my thanks.” Lall. Well, stand out at the door, and before they enter the room let me know in time to receive them. (Smokes.) (Exit Servant.) —— Now for the heretics; they rail at me, they expose my faults; I will convince them of the opponent they have to deal with. These orthodox will unquestionably consider me a sincere man; I will put on a face that will throw them all into a rage against the rebels. Villians! Why do they not eat and drink in private? Why do the fools excite a noise about it? Who does not eat and drink in this age? Those who are looked upon as examples in virtue indulge in excesses. What is Kamdeb? What is Debnauth? and what am I after all the thunders I denounce! ha! ha! ha! Are we not regularly drunk every night? Yet what? Do we confess, what we do before the public? These villians have got their brains turned out; they speak of truth and call me a hypocrite; down with the rascals; teach them the respect due to Lallchand. Lallchand is a man that is not to be daunted by young callow boys. I have dealt with men more advanced in age and cunning. Devils I will see them; I will pursue their very leader to the greatest extremities: Banylal thou hast always been wicked and hostile to me. I have got thee on the hip you rascal; (Within Where is Lallchand Baboo.) Enter KAMDEB, DEBNAUTH, RAMLOCHUN, SERVANTS AND OTHERS. Lall. You are welcome; Baboo Kamdeb, I did not see you long.—You are in good health?

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Kamdeb. Apan your blessings sho shir.* Lall. Your courtesy; (to a servant)[sic]—hay—tobacco—tobacco— Well gentlemen we are met here upon a common cause. What mischievous events have been brought about by this baneful joug? We witness horror; young fellows defying the bonds of religion look indifferently upon their casts [sic]. That Banylal—Son of Mohadeb—disregarding his dignity and sanctity as a Bramin looks upon men of all ranks as his equals; Gods, how corrupt and degraded must they be? Kamdeb. Yesh; the billans down cars our religion. Boysh not obeys ould man; They not drinkes Bramun Takoorsh19 feet wash water. We must excommunicashian them. Lall. Kamdeb Baboo, I admire your noble feeling, you are very virtuous; May our bloody Ma Kaly20, prolong your life; May you thus live to eternity; Have you heard the particulars of the circumstance that happened the other day? Kamdeb. Yesh! Yesh! I heared it.—It were bery horror. He must be excommunicashian. Debnauth. I have heard it too.—Gods how frontless these young fellows are! We must cast them out. Kamdeb. They eated Mochulman21 shop biscoot22; horridness! horridness!theyeateddine;shockingness!shockingness!excommunicashian them.—They eated wine. ENTER A SERVANT With a hookha23 Ramlochun. You take; you take; (gives a hookha to Kamdeb.) Kamdeb. Well (smoke) you are kindnesh Ramlochun Baboo.

19 Thākur, or priest. 20 The goddess Kali, “Ma” meaning “mother”. See the author’s detailed third Note at the end. 21 Mussulman, or Muslim. 22 Biscuit. 23 Hookah. *

This is an instance of the manner in which many, pretending to know the English Language, murder it in a cruel manner.

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Debnauth. This Banylal is a very impudent chap.—He talks of us in contemptuous terms. Kamdeb. Yesh, Yesh; I rich man, he not make me respect. We must order Mohadeb to transportation him from house; and we must excommunicashian him. Ramlochun. Let him thus be expelled from home and cast out from Society. Lall. Well, I will have that done. But this is not enough, how shall we prevent the growing wickedness. What measures are to be adopted for checking the progress of vice? If we, upon whom the whole nation depends for the preservation of its happiness, if we do overlook this, then who will protect the people?—Let this be a resolution of our Shuba24, not to allow children know—that distroyer [sic] of all religion—science. Do not let your children go to School. Kamdeb. I Said [sic] long time ago; down gib childs upon eschool.25 I always tould that mathematicians and metamophysician not good.— Childs learn disrespectful for parents. —Lallchand You [sic] publicashian that not let childs upon eschools. Lall. My paper is ever devoted to religion, and I will always do what you desire. Debnauth. Yes, the heretics will thus be checked; eat beef! Gods! what crimes are now committed! Being Hindoos eat beef! Heavens! it amazes me; it shocks me; Gods what an accursed wretch must Mohadeb be that he has such a monster of a son. Kamdeb. Yes; publicashian Bany, expelled from home.— Lall. Yes that I will in Thursday’s paper. The rascals abuse me; they exclaim my paper is pernicious; villians they are: Kamdeb. DownfearLallchand,they are vicious; Jome will punishment them; he strike iron dandy* upon their heads; you will she. 24 sabhā, or assembly. 25 “don’t give childs upon eschool”—ischool being a common Bengali pronunciation of “school”. *

An iron club.—Jome [Yama] is the same as Pluto of old—He strikes hard blows upon the head of the irreligious.—

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Lall. Smoke another Chillum before you go—hay tobacco; tobacco;— (a hookah brought in and handed to Kamdeb who smokes.) Kamdeb. Memory have Lallchand not gib child’s upon eschool. Lall. Of course—I will remember it to the last. Kamdeb. Yesh; Yesh I mistake; I mistake; a jot* of thanks to Lallchand—Why you not hould your hand—It is custom; a jot of thankes [sic]. Deb. They call it a vote of— Kamdeb. Bishtno; Bishtno; a vot of thankes; hould you hand—(saying he this gave a sudden motion to his hand unmindful of the hookha he had in it; the hookha fell upon the body of Lall Chand who was standing near, injured his clothes and burned his feet)— Debnauth. Ha—Ha—Bromohutta Brumohutta—† Kamdeb. Lall Chand Baboo, I not see—Pardon my sin— (throws himself down and brings his head below Lall Chand’s feet; who started and a piece of burning charcoal that was on the nail of his great toe fell upon Kamdeb’s head and burnt part of the hair.) Lall Chand. Never mind; never mind. My feet are not burnt.—(aside) oh! what pain! Kamdeb. Smoke a chillum of Hubul bubul‡ and all will be well. Lall Chand. (Aside.) Yes; if it burns me again, I would not like to be so “well.” (another Hookha [sic] brought in; they smoke; then exeunt all but Lall Chand and servants.) Lall Chand. O! what pain!—cursed be Kamdeb!—What a shrewed [sic] wicked fellow that is!—He tells every one not to let children go to School but is cunning enough to see his own sons there. O you rogue!—O what pain! I fear I will have a sore. You rascal Bany for you I am suffering

*

† ‡

Kamdeb in imitation of English customs proposes a vote of thanks to Lall Chand; and expects that he will be answered by a show of hands.—He is not understood and they do not hold their hands—So he gets vexed.—“Bishtno.” [sic] is expressed by a Hindoo when he perceives his mistake. Means the murdering [hatyā] a Bramin. Means a hookha of tobacco in vulgar language. [The Anglo-Indianism “hubble bubble”.]

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this pain. I will immediately make Mohadeb fix his signature to a paper and formally expel—O! O! O! painful!—his son. Enter TURKOLUNKAR AND BYDHABAGIS. Ah, timely come; you are to go and order Mohadeb formally expel his son in writing. Turko. Very well. Lall Chand. Well then, make a draft of it here; and get his signature afterwards; write as I dictate. I Mohadeb of the town of Calcutta. Turko. I Mohadeb of the town of Calcutta; well. Lall Chand. Hearing that my son ate the flesh of—Doorgah!26 what pain my feet give me!—Have you written? read it. Turko. Hearing that my son ate the flesh of Doorgah; what pain my feet give me. Lall Chand. Haloah he did not eat the flesh of Doorgah. I meant the flesh of a cow—I uttered “Doorgah!” because I felt a pain in my feet. Turko. Oho! I mistook it; I thought you meant a cow by Doorgah. Well, the flesh of a cow. Laul [sic] Chand. Do hereby expel—accursed Kamdeb!—my son from my house. Turko [sic]. Well. Lall Chand. That is all. Read it. Turko. I Mohadeb of the town of Calcutta hearing that my son ate the of flesh a cow do hereby expel accursed Kamdeb my son, from my house.— Kamdeb I suppose is another name of Bany. Lall Chand. Stop; stop; I did not say Kamdeb his son. What the divil [sic] is it? Are you mad or are you drunk?— Bydha. The latter supposition is correct, I am afraid a [sic] side.) Lall Chand. Cut off “Kamdeb.” Now read it. Turko. Expel accursed my son. Lall. What is that?—write my accursed son not accursed my.—Now take it away and get it signed—(exeunt Turko and bydha [sic].) Now you rascal Banylal; now feel whom thou opposedst. See what Lallchund [sic] can do you rogue; I will cast thee, although I am as guilty as thou art in 26 He swears by the goddess Durga.

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eating and drinking; and what couldst thou fear more from me.—Hold you villian, this misfortune does not come from thy bread and meat, but from the contempt you expressed for me; What can I not do then?—Hay! hay! get my watch—curse the hour thou blockhead in which thou professedst against me you cur. (A watch brought and handed to Lall chand [sic].) O Lord, very late, it is time for me to prepare for going to bed. What liquors are there?—Bring a bottle of Brandy. Now Banylal I do with perfect freedom what has cost you so dear. (A glass and Brandy brought in.) See! here I drink with ease and comfort, although thou lost thy caste for it.—(Drinks)—Fill another glass—you blockhead Bany; I have wreaked my vengeance upon you (drinks) O sweet liquor!—You rascal Bany I have undone thee—Give me more, give me more. Be quick my boy; (drinks)—O sweet Makaly27! how sweet is wine—Bearer—we have excommunicated Bany—I swear we have outcasted him. Bearer if you doubt you may ask Kamdeb Baboo. Bearer. He is almost come to the point (aside [sic])—I know you have, Sir. Lall. You are clever.—Give me more drink my boy. Why, do not fear— who does not drink?—Kamdeb Baboo drinks, Debnauth Baboo drinks. Ramlochun Baboo drinks.—Who does not drink? Drinking is sweet.— (Drinks.) O dear sweet wine!—without thee life is hell.—What, Bearer, you fear I am drunk?—No I am not drunk—I know you are my dear Bearer, my sweet Bearer, my hearty Bearer, (hugs the Bearer who secretly laughs)—more drink; more drink–O drinking is sweet, drinking is sweet.—Banylal is excommunicated.—Bearer, if I get him now I will beat him—thus (as here he was going to show how he would beat Bany he jumped, and his legs being not firm he tumbles, upon the mattress; his feet, where there was a blister, are bruised by the fall; the bearers support and carry him off; his feet all bloody.)

27 Ma Kali.

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SCENE 2D. A room in Mohadeb’s house. Enter MOHADEB, TURKOLUNKAR, and BYDHABAGIS. Moha. I can sooner die than disown him. Turko. What an accursed dotard are you!—You hesitate to do this; do you know what he has done?— Moha. O Gods!—I have—Is it all at last come to this?—Was it left for me to turn out my own son?—Cursed be the hour in which I was born! Woe to the day that changed my son!—Were all the misfortunes reserved for me? O unfortunate Mohadeb!— Bydha. Come, Come,; [sic] be quick, sign this paper.— Moha. O would my father never taught me to write! How can I sign it, good Sir.—Have you no pity in you? How do you urge me so strongly to do this? Turko. Do it, or perdition catch your soul! Your tenderness to your dear son preponderates over your virtue. O you old fool! Moha. Respectful Sirs; excuse me, I have not yet bowed. May the dust of your holy feet give me eternal salvation!—(Bows down before Turkolunkar and puts upon his feet a few rupees which he takes up.) Turko. Mohadeb Baboo I was joking all this time; do not mind what I said. I know you can not sign this. Bydha. (aside.) Bah! I received nothing—Why not, he must sign it. Moha. What I laid upon venerable Turkolunkar’s feet are for both of you. Bydha. (aside.) Ah—now it is right—Yes I know it is impossible for you to sign such a paper as that—I know it is not easy to do so. Turko. Well, we will prevail upon them to dispense with it—you may go then— (exit Mohadeb.) He did not of course mean that the sum is to be equally divided between you and me. Mind my threats brought it out and justice requires that I should have the larger share. Bydha. Bah! you are a fine fellow; that wont [sic] do—

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Turko. That wont [sic] do!—Why that wont [sic] do? I brought it out and shall have nothing for my pains!—Is that justice? Bydha. What nonsense do you squabble about justice when you were bribed? I am induced to laugh at your fudge. Turko. But I must have something additional for my pains, I wont [sic] give you half; what will you do? Bydha. Why then I will tell all to Lall Chand.— Turko. Tell all to Lall Chand! Do your worst you traitor;—I wont [sic] give you any thing. Bydha. Traitor!—and what are you?—a hypocrite, a rogue, a deceiver,—neglecting what you promised to do for filthy gain. Turko. Filthy gain! Well for this “filthy gain. [sic]” I know you would do any thing, yea, you would clean shoes if necessary. Bydha. Clean shoes!—Now you villian I will divulge your tricks—I will tell your Shisos all your private character. Turko. Do it you treacherous beast, do it, I care not for the worst that you may do. (exit.) Bydha. Villianous rascal!—treacherous beast! I will divulge every thing—I will tell every one he drinks in private.—I will destroy his influence over his Shisos [sic]—I will tell my Shisos never to invite him. The rascal perhaps may disclose my drinking—But what the deuce do I care? My Shisos all know and they drink with me. What shall I lose then? but the rascal I will see him—I will cut him off from all wealthy men; and then let him feel the misery that will arise to him from his opposition to me. Villian Turkolunkar! So long as thou wert my friend I said thee nothing. But now I will show thee what rage I am capable of, you rascal. (exit.) SCENE 3rd. A street before Mohadeb’s House. Enter TURKOLUNKAR. Turko. Civil dissentions are really dangerous. Why did I not allow him half of what Mohadeb gave?—If he goes and reveals to all our respective habits he shall ruin us both.—What then is to be done?—Is it prudent to

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risk so much or to allow him what he wants?—To yield to him now would be to feed his vanity; that would be intolerable.—What will he do?—He will go and declare about that I give a loose rein to my appetites disregarding the bonds of religion—I will flatly deny whatever he will say.—What will he do then?—We will contradict each other—The public will be at a loss to reconcile what we say—Well; I, who will utter a downright falsehood will at least have some to believe me—and that is a great deal.—What will I lose then?—Nothing;—What will he lose?—disbelieved although speaking the truth.—Well, why then shall I yield to him?—Let him go on and do whatever he likes.—Perhaps we may both be disbelieved—it is no loss to me because it is what I deserve.—He suffers although he speaks the truth. But there is another consideration; what will be done if he goes and says that I was bribed by Mohadeb—Ha–This is not to be trifled with.—For I have not got Mohadeb’s signature—What shall I then do?—If I forge his signature what will he do? I never saw Mohadeb’s signature—how then shall I forge it?—This is a difficult job. What, if I roughly go to Mohadeb and urge him to sign the paper or suffer the consequences.—He has bribed me; what then? shall I be thrown into this delemma [sic] because he has given me a little paltry pronamie*?—Why will I lose so much for his sake?—I may with propriety urge him to sign it and then no harm can possibly come to me. Here is my logic. Necessity has no law This is a necessity Therefore it has no law— Haste then and get his signture [sic].— Exit.

*

[pranāmi] Means a present given to a Bramin or a God by one of an inferior caste.

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ACT 4TH. SCENCE [sic] I. A room in Shamnauth’s house Enter BANYLAL, SHAMNAUTH, INDRO [sic] NAUTH and others Sham. What strange circumstances have transpired since the entertainment you gave us! Who could for a moment think that such a trifling matter could give rise to such serious consequences! Indra. Although you are obstinately bent, yet my dear Bany, I fear much; it is time to turn back from your career. You have risen too high; prudence requires you should now halt. Proceed no higher but descend a few steps. Bany. To descend is hostile to my feelings. Can I having come so forward return back? Is it possible to give up my ground? Lord! What a triumph would that be to bigotry! Indra. Dear friend, be not hot;—The bigots have all excommunicated you.—They met at Lallchand’s house—consider therefore before you act further. Sham. I cannot help laughing at your diffidence.—They have excommunicated him; Well; what cares he for that? No; No; let him not slacken. Indra. I think it is much better to leave things to themselves and reformation must come on. Bany. Reformation most [sic] come on by leaving things to themselves! What an absurdity! Will reformation be effected by itself? Will the rising generation without any example renounce their follies? What strange ideas? Indra. Oh!—But—yet I think prudence is necessary—I suppose it is better to be a little backward than too forward. Bany. And why think you so? Are you a rational being? Do you reason? Why think you so?

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Indra. Why I think so I am not now prepared to say; but I am pretty sure that my suppositions are founded upon reaon [sic] and that I can produce arguments in my favour if I esseriously [sic] bent upon it. Sham. Ha! Ha! Ha!; Ha! Ha! Ha!; Ha! Ha! Ha!; and why are you not then “seriously bent” upon it? Indra. You see you have been forsaken by your own friends—men who most likely think and feel with you. Bany. It remains to be proved that I have been forsaken—But suppose I am, what do you wish me to do? All this noise cannot cease if I do not utter a downright falsehood. Bany [sic]. I do not tell you to utter a falsehood. Indra [sic]. What then do you wish me to do? Indra. Why.—I fear some may injure you personally. Bany. You are timid; very timid; Now you fear a great many things but all without the least reason. Now you dare not enter the field with sound arguments; Fie; you fear—you fear. Come there is no talking with you.—Fie; Enter CHUNDER COOMAR. Chun. What noise, what disorder is out! There is no place no street but rings with abuses against us—“Down with Chunder! Down with Sham!” is the cry every where. Some are constantly thinking how to injure us. Some rae [sic] heaping our names with the most vulgar expressions. —About you, Banylal,—O shocking instance of Bramin craft! Bany. What is the matter? Chun. Why a fellow, Turkolunkar by name, went to your father with a paper to get his signature to it. The paper was for turning you out from home. Your father immersed in grief, said he could not sign it.—The unruly Bramin pressed like a ruffian. Your father then gave him a few rupees and the villain seemed satisfied and went away. Two hours after returns he, and like a true ruffian obliged your father to sign it. Poor man!—His age, his grief are burthensome to him.—He took up the pen and the moment he brought it in contact with the paper he swooned and the pen dropped. Bany. What!—did he swoon?—What a sad conception!

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Chun. He did—but he soon recovered—and took up the pen—and again fainted away—and again recovered.—The third time he took up the pen—he did the same.—The fourth time, he succeeded in affixing his signature and wept bitterly like a child—O what unhappy things are these! Bany. Very—the recollection is painful; but we must bear them—let us look after other things and let us forget these—Bear in mind my friends when I have lost my father, my mother, my brothers, my sisters for this monster superstition, I will not enjoy a whole day happily until this baneful religion is down.—Join hands, friends, for this. Persevere in your course.— Let this destructive religion be soon brought down. exeunt. SCENE 2d. A room in Debnouth’s [sic] house Enter DEBNAUTH and DENONAUTH. Deb. Why will you not go to school? Deno. The schools are very pernicious now; They say that schools will make boys Christians. Excuse me Sir therefore I will not go. Deb. What stuff is all this? Who told you that schools will make boys Christians? And suppose they do what then? Deno. Why Sir I will be vicious and will be marked as a criminal by God and punished in the next world. Deb. What strange ideas! Deno. Beside Sir it is published that the Hindoos ought for religion’s sake refrain from sending boys to school. Deb. And who acts comformably [sic] to that clause? I know it is published so—and I know also why is it published.—We met, and of course as members of our sacred club we said that boys should not be sent to schools. But we never intended to act as we said. Who has with drawn [sic] his son from school?—Has Kamdeb done so? Has Ramlochun done so? Deno. But pardon me, Sir; I will not go to school. Deb. And why not? See how clever is Banylal! see how influential is Shamnauth! see the respect which Chundercoomer [sic] commands.

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How happy would these young men have been if they had not learnt their absurdities about truth. If they had just refrained from publicly declaring themselves hostile to our religion.— Deno. No Sir I will not go to school. Deb. How will you then fill up your belly?—I have no property to leave you.—Why are you so afraid of losing your religion? Why do you shrink at the idea of dressing fashionably and being like a gentleman? Why are you so fond of sticking to the old customs of the Bramins? Why do you pray so much in that foolish manner?—Why do you do all these?—I never pray; you know I look upon the Gayatree as all nonsense.28 Why do you not do the same? Deno. Sir I cannot answer your questions. But I will not go to school. Deb. You worse than ass! why will you not go? You fool! then starve when I am dead; Be a cooly and carry heavy loads upon your head; serve the office of a mhetre.29 Do the vilest and the meanest offices and thereby support yourself—Out of my sight! If you stand one moment more I will break your head. Away!—not go to school! Then be a dunce through your whole life.—I say away! out of my sight! away! (exit DENONAUTH.) — What a foolish boy have I to deal with! He does not wish to go to school! villain! I will murder him if he doesn’t.—He will stick like an old woman to all the nasty and dirty customs of the Bramins.—Shame! Shame! Rascal! there is no activity in him. Young men of his age know nothing but body houses [sic] and vintries.—He shrinks at the idea of putting on a dhooty30 if no Bramin put the like one [sic] before. He will live to be in the greatest misery. Heavens! with such religious notions, he will be hated and despised when heresy will be general; which is soon to be. Fool that he is; he is working his own ruin. I will murder him if he do not go to school. I will disown him. I will turn him out from the house. Where is he? Deno! Deno! Deno! (Exit.)

28 [Gāyatri] See the author’s seventh detailed Note at the end. 29 cooly = coolie; mhetre = methar, a sweeper or cleaner, considered a low-caste profession. 30 dhoti.

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ACT 5TH. SCENE IST. A room in Bhyrub’s house. Enter BHYRUB will Bhy. When they come? It is half an hour after the appointed hour. Banylal’s case is a very difficult case. What shall I do? He has been always friendly to me. Am I to join him and bring upon myself the rage and malice of a whole nation? Or discontinue my connection with him and leave him to himself? I know not what to do? He has taken a step which I can never be forward enough to follow him to— enter SUMBULCHAND[,] HURRYCHAND, KADER, [sic] MOHUN, RAM MOHUN, and others. Good friends; you are well I suppose. All. Thank you; we are quite well— Bhy. You have all heard I believe of our friend Banylal’s difficulties. Sum. We have; and I would wish that we have no connection with him or his party. Ram. Yes, we will, if we frequent their company, be outcasted ourselves.—Therefore we should not consider ourselves as of their party. Hurry. My view is exactly the same. We should not join them—we should leave them to themselves. Bhy. You have all severally spoken—allow me then to speak now; consider what I say with cool deliberation. “Enquire patiently and decide modestly.”—Banylal has always been invariably kind and friendly to me; and if not affectionate friends to all of you, he has at least thought and felt like you. He is a liberal Hindoo and his notions of religion differ not in any degree from yours. He has freely indulged in in [sic] what are prohibited by Hindooism;—and so have you. Why then should you leave all manner of connection with one that is similar to you in thoughts and feelings? Sum. What! shall I doom myself to the persecution of the Hindoos by joining him.

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Kader. He publicly avows himself hostile to the Hindoo religion. If we join him we shall in the same manner be marked out. Therefore the farther we are from him the better. Bhy. What harm is there if you be marked out? there is no harm. Why not be the foremost in liberalism and forward in our course like them? Consider they were all friends, and having been so, they deserve your sympathy at their difficult situation. Again, know you, their difficulties are but transient, because we feel they are in a good cause. Therefore these are worth your consideration. Sum. But I believe we may lose a great deal by acting with them. Bhy. You need not act with them; but why will you be enemical to them? why not be friendly with them? Why be a foe unnecessarily? It is not necessary to do in every respect like them—but so far as you do not disagree with them why will you not join them. Sun [sic]. Ah to that I have no objection. I only objected to going as far as they have gone. Bhy. If you all agree let us call upon them all one day. Our former friendship will be revived. Our acquaintance will be intimate and every thing will be desirable. Let us therefore call upon them. What do you say to this? Agreed? All. Yes. Exeunt. SCENE 2D. A room in Samnauth’s [sic] house. ENTER BANY LAL, AND AN OLD SERVANT. Old Servant. O think, think, think; it is not yet lost. It is still possible to bring you back if you wish it. Bany. Give not ground to such suppositions. Never think it possible for me to sanction what I wish to destroy. Never think that any circumstances will bring Bany back to that pale of ignorance and superstition which he detests with all his heart and which he burns with impatience to root out from the minds of others.

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Old Servant. O what an obstinate chap you are! you will repent hereafter—In your days of need who will come to uphold you if you be entirely forsaken by your own kinsmen? Who will support you in your distress? Who will trouble his head about you?—You are hated by the Hindoos; they watch every moment to injure you. My master Mohadeb is only sorry because he knows not how will you be off in the world. He fears you, deserted and alone, may labour under difficulties and sink down under them. O think of yourself; think of your condition as a man, do not be led by youthful heat. Bany. I have measured my steps before I took them. But what shall I do?—Can I go and suffer a penance? That is out of the question. I grant my situation is difficult; but it cannot be helped. Old Servant. O! what will be your glory if you were not heretical!— No one disputes your cleverness. You would shine with full lustre if you were religious! Do declare, you feel the truth of our holy religion. Bany. But I do not, I feel that your religion is full of absurdities. I feel that your Krishna, if ever he existed, was not what a God would be. Old Servant. Conceive the respect the influence you would command.—As a Bramin you would be adored; as a clever man you would be respected. What an enviable situation would be yours! Thousands of people will feel proud to stand by your shadow. O think of all these! Consider what you might be! Are you still obstinate? Bany. Endeavour to tempt me as much as you can; but I am firm and resolute. I am not to be shaken off. Enter A BRAMIN. Old Servant. Here comes Bydhalunkar Mohasoy31; ask his opinion. Bram. You see Baboo, you are the son of a great man. Your ancestors were Bramins of the first order. The influence, the respect they commanded were very vast. Their names were never uttered but with reverence. Their immense wealth on the other hand, gave them a degree of consequence not to be found in ordinary men. As their descendant you are entitled to all their honors; yon [sic] will have additional respect for your learning. Your ancestors were admired and adored because they were Bramins of high 31 Bidyālankār Mahāsay, the latter name an honorific.

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order and rich. You having an advantage over them in learning will be more adored, more admired and more venerated. Why will you risk all these? what is the use of speaking the truth at th eloss [sic] of so many advantages? Come. I will take you with me to your father and I will superintend every ceremony. You shall have nothing to do but act as I will desire.—Every thing will be thus settled.—Come, I will take upon myself all the troubles of the ceremony. Bany. Have you finished?—Have you any more to say to me? Old Servt. Well BydhaLunkar [sic] Mohasoy offers to do every thing for you.—What say you to that?— Bany. Any thing more to say?— Bramin. Do you agree to come?— Bany. Any thing more to say? Old Servt. We have nothing more to say. Bany. Then good bye. Exit abruptly. Bramin. Holoah!—What is this? Old Servt. He is grown mad.—O what a loss is he?—He will be tossed about; His youth, his want of sufficient means for support, the offence he has given to the Hindoos all predict, he will be ruined—O what a misfortune is this!—Did I run about and carry him in my lap for this?—Did I foster him since his infancy for this?—O Bany Lall [sic]! Are you lost?—O Heavens! I could never conceive for a moment that such things would come to pass!— Bramin. What a falling off when we think of him compared to his ancestors!— Old Servt. Every day brings a new report against him. The Hindoos detest and abhor him.—God grant he may be safe with his life! If he lives, still that is some consolation. But oh! what a loss has he been! These four days he is living at the house of a friend.—The room in which he used to lodge seems all dark and gloomy.—The very walls grieve for the loss of their occupant.—O what effects have been produced by his learning! would to Heaven that this knowledge be not bestowed upon any man. Exeunt.

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SCENE 3D. Another Room in the same. INDRANAUTH, SHAMNAUTH, CHUNDERCOOMAR. Discovered. Sham. I wonder he is not yet come. Chunder. What is he doing? Sham. An old servant of his father came and called him aside to speak with him. I cannot conceive what they are doing. Chunder. What an unfortunate case is his! Sham. Very; his whole family is disconsolate; there he comes. Enter BANYLAL. Allo! what is the matter? Bany. They were all endeavouring to decoy me. Sham. How? Bany. They said that my ancestors were all respectable and that I may be still more respectable if I like. Sham. Well; Bany. Then they began to talk of many stories concerning the sacrifice I am making. Sham. What did they say? Bany. Why a Bramin came and was puzzling me to undergo a penance. He said that he would undertake the whole trouble—and my father’s old servant was particularly struck at his disinterestedness. Sham. Yes; very disinterested; undertake the whole trouble and pocket a heavy tax as his fee; that is very disinterested. O how shrewd these villians are! Bany. But the fools could not appeal to my tenderest parts. The fellow talks of wealth, of consequence, of orthodox respect, as if I care a fig for them. They said nothing of the tie of affection between me and my father and of the filial duties I owe to him as his son. If they had expatiated upon these they could have touched me a little. But they went on with all their fudge respecting ancestral respect and spoiled the whole thing themselves. —Haloah! Who are coming?—I say Bhyrub and others are coming.

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Sham. Are they?—Let us receive them well. Enter BHYRUB, KADUR [sic] MOHUN, HURRY CHAND and others. Good morning, friends; I hope you have been all quite well. Bhy. Quite well; thank you. We did not see each other for a long time; but that we hope has not made us foes. Bany. Foes! I do not know what ground is there for supposing so. However we may differ in certain points, still I presume our feelings coincide in a great measure. Why then shall we allow it to be said that we are foes? Bhy. If there had ever been any cause given which was calculated to create offence, let us mutually forget it. Let us look upon our common duties as men, as Hindoos liberated from the shackles of prejudice. Bany. Well said, dear friend, let us forget all in the task we have undertaken, let all animosities, all personal enimities [sic] yield to our duty—and I presume to say—to our own solid interest. Remember, friends, our feelings being so opposed to popular notions we can seldom expect sympathy from them. How miserable then will be our condition if we gain not persons to co-operate with us!—How pitiful will be our state if there be not additions to our party. It becomes you, therefore all to a man to march hand in hand and exert your utmost for bestowing that knowledge upon your countrymen the fruits of which you are now enjoying. Bhy. I pledge, as long as I live, I will be a devoted servant to the cause of truth and Hindoo reformation. Bany. And I doubt not you have found an echo in every one of us.— Let us friends thus go on.—Let us be insensible to every consideration but that which may secure our object. Let us enter the field with fortitude and perseverance.—Let us handle this sacred cause, and desert it only by our death. Our lives may be lost; but let us not shrink with fear.—Let “Bear on; bear nobly on” be our watchword. Let us prove ourselves dutiful sons of our country by our actions and exertions. Now let us see what strength can ignorance and bigotry bring into the field. Let us mark how feeble is prejudice when rational beings attack it with prudence. Perseverance, and

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Prudence be our motto and let us hold out ourposition in spite all difficulties and all dangers that may fall into our way. They all recede with bows; the curtain falls.

NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. NOTE 1st. ACT I. SCENE 2.—PAGE 5. BHYDHA[sic]. Yesterday I went in the afternoon to my SHISO’S &c. It is difficult to give a correct notion of the word sisho (শিষ্য) to Europeans.—Every Hindoo family has a particular Bramin whom they consider as their God; whose wrath would bring eternal punishment upon them; and whose benedictions would make them eternally happy. The office of this Bramin is to whisper a few words into the ear of every member of the family when advanced to mature age. These words are called muntro32 (মন্ত্র); and are upon no account to be uttered before any one—not even the Bramin himself. The author would make no objection to reveal them before the public; but unfortunately he renounced Hindooism before he could know these sacred words. He recollects however having heard from a friend that the words whispered into his ear were Cling Radah Gobindo (শ্লিং রাধাগ�াশিন্দ)33 the meaning of which was never explained to him. The author requests all orientalists to direct their attention to those words, and endeavour to discover whether they have any meaning or not. He hopes this mystery, brought to public light perhaps for the first time, may lead to the detection of the other black parts of Bramincraft. The Bramin who whispers these words is called Goroo [sic] (গুরু)34 and and [sic] is generally found to have very long ears and thick brains. The Sisho (শিষ্য) is bound to obey whatever his Goroo [sic] (গুরু) desires.

32 mantra. 33 Kling Radha Gobinda: Radha-Krishna, preceded by a Tantric syllable, one of many used in invocatory rituals. The irony lies in the incongruity of Tantrism yoked with Vaishnavism. 34 Guru.

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NOTE 2d. ACT 2d. SCENE I. PAGE 9. The speech of the OLD SERVANT. In reading this speech one should not forget an important consideration. By the words, Pisanio, Posthumous, Orlando and Adam the OLD SERVANT in the text means merely a good faithful servant and his master.—In Hindoo tradition instances of this kind are very rare.—The author in consequence availed himself of those names in order to be clearly understood by Europeans. The author surely does not give his OLD SERVANT a knowledge of Shakspear’s [sic] characters.— The reader should know that Pisanio and Adam are used as two words signifying each, a good servant.

NOTE 3d. ACT 2d. SCENE 3d. PAGE 12. BYDHA. I was at my sisho’s last might [sic] and of course you know what I did. Persons well conversant with Hindoo customs are perhaps aware that there is a certain sect among the Hindoos called the Sactos.35— This sect for the most part indulges in the carnal gratifications without controul [sic]. They eat, drink, with freedom—; although they pretend that they have restraints yet many in reality observe none. Drinking at least is common among them; their gooroos (গুরু) give them permission to indulge in this excess, and not unfrequently join them in the act. The author confesses that there are exceptions and that every sacto is not loose. The Kalypoojah night is one of the nights when they revel publicly and indiscriminately. 35 Shākta, followers of Shakti, the mother goddess, and Kali; hence the subsequent reference to Kali Puja.

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NOTE 4th. ACT 2d. SCENE 3d. PAGE 13. BYDAH [sic]. Do not speak Greek. Let not critics indulge in expatiating upon these words with freedom. The person represented in the text has not surely heard of Greek. The phrase is used only for the clear understanding of Europeans.

NOTE 5th. ACT 2D. SCENCE [sic] 4TH. PAGE 14. LALL. He gave his son marriage while in AUSOJE. This is taken from life. There are persons in the orthodox community who have done such things and who now are the foremost in attempting to hurt the liberals by issuing Circulars, creating false reports, &c.

NOTE 6th. ACT 3 RD [sic]. SCENE 1ST. PAGE 21. LALL. O Lord, very late, it is time for me to prepare for going to bed. Lall Chand, is not the only one whose preparation for going to bed is brandy. He is but a specimen of A COMMUNITY. Report said few days ago, that the quantity of meat and wine sold to the Hindoos last year, exceeded every one’s expectation. Remaining intoxicated with spirits in the night, and abusing the heretics in the day, are the distinguishing characteristics of an orthodox of the present day.

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NOTE 7th. ACT 4 TH [sic]. SCENE 2ND. PAGE 28. DEBNAUTH. Youeknow [sic] I look upon the GAYTREE [sic] as all nonsense. Gayatree36 is another proof of Bramin craft. This is composed of certain words by uttering which they [sic] Bramins pretend to achieve any action. In ceremonies if the Bramin forgets the particular words or muntras (মন্ত্র) which are requisite to be uttered, his Gayatree supplies their want. The meaning of this Gaytree [sic] is certainly a mystery, at last [sic] it is so with the author and many other Bramins. The words are the following: (ওঁভভিস্য তৎ সশিতর িগরণ্যিং ভগ�া দেিস্্য ধীমহি শধগ�া ওনঃ প্রচে�াতিং ও) Ong Bho Bhoobo Sho tut Subitoor Borannung Bhurgo Debosho Dhemohee Dheo ono procho doyat ong. The author requests all orientalists to investigate into the meaning of these words; and endeavour to discover more fully the tricks and wiles of the Bramins. The author’s publication of this [sic] words will unquestionably bring upon him the implacable hatred of the priests; since they are words which are not to be brought to the knowledge of any but a Bramin. An inferior caste must expect perdition if happen [sic] to know them. The author is very anxious to have an idea of the meaning of those words since they are in fact the basis of Bramin craft.

36 The Gāyatri mantra from the Rig Veda, regarded as the most sacred in Hinduism. In Sanskrit: Om bhurbhuvah svah tatsaviturvarenyam bhargo devasyadhimahi dhiyo yo nah pracodayāt Om (Banerjea attempts an English transcription himself). Contrary to Banerjea’s youthful opinion, the mantra does have meaning, though scholars offer varying interpretations. Addressed to Savitr, the Sun god who reveals, it invokes literally: “O Whom pervades the earth, the ether and the eternal, let us meditate on the supreme glory of the divine illumining sun, to enlighten and inspire our mind.”

RIZIA by

Michael Madhusudan Dutt

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INTRODUCTION The stature of Michael Madhusudan Dutt (1824-73) as a pathfinder of modern Bengali literature, as well as the first major Indian author to write creatively bilingually, means that readers may already have some familiarity with him or that, even if they do not, they can glean enough material about him from various sources. I do not think it necessary, therefore, to repeat information about his colourful and chequered life and career, except for those details relevant to his play included here. A reliable recent biography in English exists, followed by its companion piece, the most exhaustive collection of his letters (all penned in English).1 Dutt hailed from a much more affluent family than K. M. Banerjea, his father having established himself in the legal profession. Madhusudan had learnt Persian in his village home and heard the Hindu epics and old Bengali poetry from his mother. In a Calcutta school, he picked up English and the rudiments of Greek and Latin. Enrolled in Hindoo College from 18372 to 1843, he received a sound education in English literature, particularly admired the Romantic poets like Byron, absorbed European ideas, and espoused an unconventional lifestyle. He started composing poems in English at this time, accepted for publication by Calcutta periodicals. He aspired to go to England to further a literary career, though orthodox Hindu society saw the crossing of the seas as anathema for fear of racial contamination. In 1842 Dutt’s father, obeying traditional custom, arranged Madhusudan’s marriage with a preteen girl. 1

2

Ghulam Murshid, Lured by Hope: A Biography of Michael Madhusudan Dutt, translated from Bengali by Gopa Majumdar (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2003); Michael Madhusudan Dutt, The Heart of a Rebel Poet: Letters of Michael Madhusudan Dutt, ed. Ghulam Murshid (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2004). The accepted date. However, in 1834 one Madhusudan Dutt participated in recitations from Shakespeare’s Henry VI by the boys of Hindoo College; he played the Duke of Gloucester. See Ananda Lal and Sukanta Chaudhuri, ed., Shakespeare on the Calcutta Stage: A Checklist (Calcutta: Papyrus, 2001), 26.

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Madhusudan, raised on tales of love in college, refused and sought to escape from this situation. Contemplating conversion to Christianity as the quickest way, he went in secret to Rev. K. M. Banerjea, who after a few meetings sent him to Archdeacon Dealtry. Dutt, his mind made up, took shelter in Fort William; his father’s emissaries and pleading had no effect on him. On 9 February 1843, under heavy armed guard outside the Old Church nearby, Dealtry baptized him “Michael”. Unanticipated problems arose. Hindoo College, established to educate Hindu youths, discharged Dutt because he had converted. His father, still loath to let him go, paid for his tutoring under Thomas Smith of the Scottish Church, who taught him Shakespeare in depth. In 1844, Dutt decided to become a missionary and entered Bishop’s College with that objective. Till 1847 he studied Christianity, religion, philosophy, Greek and Latin in advanced proficiency, and Western classical literature. In his final year there, his father, who had taken care of all his fees, stopped paying—possibly because he himself had lost his job at court. Qualification still incomplete, Dutt had to leave Bishop’s College and search desperately for employment, which did not arrive. Perhaps given some hope of prospects by a class friend from Madras, he boarded a ship to Madras on 29 December 1847. His friend’s father, secretary of the Madras Orphan Asylum, appointed Dutt an assistant teacher at the Free Day School for boys and girls in the orphanage. Dutt fell in love with one of his pupils, Rebecca Thompson, an Anglo-Indian, and they married on 31 July 1848, despite opposition from the European community. An Indian wedding a white woman was virtually unheard of in those days. Love poetry by Dutt began to appear in Madras periodicals, followed by his celebrated quasi historical The Captive Ladie (1848), in which the King of Delhi abducts the daughter of the King of Kanouj. Positive reviews of it in Madras lifted Dutt’s spirits, at a time of financial constraints preceding the birth of his daughter Bertha in 1849. Then the owner of the press that printed The Captive Ladie, who also published the weekly Madras Advertiser, suggested that Dutt edit a new weekly titled The Eurasian. Launched in November 1849, it serialized a few scenes from his play Rizia: Empress of

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Inde in seven issues, from Number 2 (10 November) to Number 11 (12 January 1850)—the only portions of Rizia to have appeared in Dutt’s lifetime. It pleased him enough to introduce some of his later short poems printed in Madras as “by the writer of Rizia”.3 However, as we shall see, he continued writing and revising it. Subsequently, Dutt rose to head teacher in 1850, editor of another weekly, the Madras Hindu Chronicle (1850-52), Second Tutor at Madras University (1852-55) and assistant editor of the Madras Spectator (1855), the first daily newspaper in the city. But in December 1855, he received news from Calcutta that after his father’s death a year before, various relatives had occupied his property under false pretences. Within a month he sailed back to Calcutta in an attempt to claim his rightful inheritance. He did not return to Madras. Without income in Calcutta, and with the costs of litigation, he had to settle for a lowly interpreter’s position at the Police Court in 1856. His literary writing came to a standstill. Luckily for him, the simultaneous advent of amateur Bengali theatre in zamindar houses that competed with one another opened a different door for him. The Rajas of Paikpara in north Calcutta, two brothers, inaugurated the Belgatchia (Belgachhia) Theatre on 31 July 1858 with a Bengali adaptation of Harsha’s Sanskrit romantic drama, Ratnāvali. For the benefit of their invited British guests, they decided to distribute an English translation, and on the recommendation of Dutt’s best friend from college, Gour Das Bysack, their associate, they engaged Dutt as translator. This translation4—though Dutt regarded the Bengali adaptation as “absurd and substandard”5—motivated him to immediately undertake an original play in Bengali, Sharmishthā, almost as a challenge. Charmed by his dramatization of the Hindu legend about Yayati, Devayani and her maid Sharmishtha, the Rajas staged it on 3 September 1859 to considerable acclaim. Almost unintentionally, Dutt had embarked on his Bengali career and, as the saying goes, never had to look back. 3 4 5

Murshid, 94. Dutt, Ratnavali (Calcutta: Calcutta Printing and Publishing Co., 1858). Dutt, Rebel Poet, 84.

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Repeating their previous practice with Ratnāvali for invitees, the Rajas commissioned Dutt to translate Sharmishthā into English. He spelt it Sermista,6 and unknowingly became the first Indian dramatist to compose the same play in two languages. Later famous authors who wrote in their mother tongue and then transcreated those works into English themselves would include Rabindranath Tagore and Girish Karnad. The Rajas then encouraged Dutt to write a farce for the entertainment of their audience. Enthused, he shot off not just one, but two rollicking satires: Ekei ki bale sabhyatā (virtually bilingual, caricaturing the superficial Anglicization of the Young Bengal movement) and Buro shāliker ghāre ron (targeting old men who preyed on young women). His patrons paid for the printing of these plays in early 1860. During rehearsals, word of their subject matter trickled out, and influential citizens of both generations imposed on the Rajas to call off any performances. Dutt was devastated; “you all broke my wings”, he alleged in a letter.7 However, he had not forgotten his unfinished drama begun in Madras. He persuaded Keshub Chunder Gangooly, a leading actor in the Belgatchia Theatre, who had also become his confidant on matters theatrical, to deliver an outline of Rizia in English to the Rajas and their friend Jotindro Mohun Tagore for consideration and approval. I excerpt it here in full: During the life of the Emperor Altamush, Rizia’s father, that Princess was engaged to be married to Altunia, Governor of Sind. He comes to Delhi—finds the emperor dead, and Rizia reigning in his stead. He also finds his intended wife quite changed and in love with a slave (Jammal) whom she had made the “Master of the Horse”—Here the play opens.

6 7

Dutt, Sermista (Calcutta: I. C. Bose & Co., 1859). Dutt, Rebel Poet, 147.

Rizia

Act I. Sc I. (A Room in the Palace—Delhi.) Conversation between Altunia and Kabirc [a noble]. Altunia proposes to throw off his allegiance. To them enter Balin [a noble]. The empress passes over the stage with her maids and Jammal. The three noblemen go to the Prince Byram [Rizia’s brother], confined in his palace. Sc II. (The Lahore Gate of the City.) Sentry—another soldier—Mehdee [maidservant] brings Must [her husband] drunk. Afterwards enter Altunia and Kabirc—They part. Act II. Sc I. (The Audience Chamber.) Rizia—maids—nobles—citizens—news has been received by the Empress that Altunia has “erected the standard of Rebellion.” She proposes in person to go and chastise him. Sc II. (Prince Byram’s Palace.) The Prince, Kabirc, Money lender, afterwards some other nobles. Sc III. (Hindu Temple Grove.) Leela [court maid]—to her enter Balin—he attempts to insult her—she is rescued by Must, enter Munher Sing [Rajput imperial officer]—Leela’s Lover— they talk and then part—enter Sherin [court maid]. Sc IV. (The Empress’s Private Chamber.) Rizia—Jammal—Leela—Sherin.

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Act III. Sc I. (The Camp of Rizia.) Her soldiers rebel and take her captive—Jammal is slain—Munher Sing kills Balin for insulting Leela— Munher’s message to his parents. Sc II. (Altunia’s Camp.) Rizia is delivered over to Altunia—She persuades him to restore her to her throne. Must and Mehdee come from Delhi. Act IV. Sc I. (The Camp of Byram Now Emperor.) Preparations for battle against Altunia and Rizia. Sc II. (On the Bank of the Chumbul.) Leela, Sherin, and messenger—They hear of Altunia’s defeat and death—of Rizia’s captivity— Soldiers come and take them away to join the empress. Act V. Sc I. (Prison.) Rizia, Sherin, Leela, Fakeer, Murderers.—Rizia put to death. The lamentation of her maids. A soldier (Hindu) enters with news of Munher’s death and gives to Leela his wooden-sandals and sword. Sc II. (On the Bank of the Jumna.) Leela—mad! The funeral of the empress. Leela burns herself with her lover’s wooden-shoes (behind the stage). Sherin and Fakeer leave India for Persia.8

8

Quoted by Dutt’s first major biographer, Yogindranath Basu, Michael Madhusudan Dutt-er Jibancharit, 5th ed. (Kolkata: Dey’s, 1925), 303-4. I have inserted brief character identifications in square brackets and corrected minor typos.

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Forty-eight lines of a speech by Rizia in Bengali have survived, too. But Gangooly did not carry back good news for Dutt: My Dear Dutt, The synopsis of your Rizia was made over to Jotindra babu the day that I received it from you, with a request that he would consult the Chota Raja9 and acquaint you with their united opinion in respect to the Drama. I saw them both, day before yesterday, at the Emerald Bower10, and had a talk on the subject. They say that the synopsis is not sufficiently full to enable them to judge of the nature and merits of the play. Besides, Baboo Jotindra thinks, and the Raja seems to participate in the opinion, that Mahomedan names will not perhaps hear well in a Bengalee Drama, and they doubt whether an experiment of doubtful success, is worth being hazarded by the author of Sharmishthā and Tilottamā.11 They also anticipate impediments in the way of success from the too numerous characters in the play, and believe that the female parts, at least a majority of them, cannot be expected to be well represented. ...12 Dutt completed his next play, Padmābati (1860), Indianizing the Greek myth about the golden apples and innovating blank verse in Bengali drama, but the Rajas could not produce it or its successor, Krishnakumāri (1861), based on Rajput history, owing to family difficulties, and eventually closed their short-lived theatre in 1861 after the younger brother died. Probably for the same reason, Dutt did not render any of the four later plays into English. In September 1860, he had again expressed his desire to Gangooly for the Rajas to stage Rizia after Krishnakumāri: “We ought to take up Indo-Mussulman subjects. ... After this [play] we must look to 9 “Junior Raja”, the younger brother. 10 J. M. Tagore’s garden estate, now the campus of Rabindra Bharati University. 11 The titles were written in Bengali hand. Tilottamā was another of Dutt’s Bengali works, a long poem published in 1860. 12 Quoted by Basu, 302-3. Men impersonated female characters in early Bengali theatre.

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‘Rizia’—I hope that will be a drama after your own heart! The prejudice against Moslem names must be given up.”13 Since that never happened, he seemed to lose interest in Rizia, more so after immersing himself in his magnum opus, the epic Meghnādbadh Kābya, the first part of which the Rajas funded for publication in 1861. At the peak of his Bengali literary fame, this chapter of his life abruptly came to a close with his departure in 1862 for England to study law. However, he never abandoned all hope for Rizia. Gangooly recalled, “Even after his return from England in 1867, he talked to me of ‘Rizia’ and ‘Rizia’ only, but he did not live to write it.”14 Although Dutt left Rizia unfinished, it deserves our notice for various reasons. First, considerable mediocre criticism circulates on Dutt’s oeuvre because of his pioneering position in Indian English literature, demanding more comprehensive assessment. Second, even recognized scholars trained in English studies who conducted their primary research on him overlooked Rizia because they could not access it. Third, the only printed texts of it (besides in The Eurasian) lay hidden in Bengali books, journals and editions of his collected works, thereby making it invisible except to those who read Bengali. Fourth, while acknowledging that Rizia remains a derivative tragedy, heavily and understandably indebted to Shakespearean dramaturgy, it is still necessary for us to appreciate Dutt’s attempt to naturalize his foreign technique by not only composing in blank verse and combining it with occasional scenes in colloquial prose spoken by plebeians, matching Shakespeare’s style, but also by adding sung interludes of much longer duration than in Shakespeare. This kind of playwriting is more traditionally Indian, where songs interrupt the action in lyrical passages welcomed by the audience, and anticipate the drama of Girish Chandra Ghosh, Rabindranath Tagore, Dwijendra Lal Roy and others. Above all, we must pay attention to Rizia today for the very factor that Dutt himself pointed out in his correspondence quoted above. Here was India’s first dramatist to write about Muslim society—however amateurish or superficial that representation may appear now—for which 13 14

Dutt, Rebel Poet, 150. In his reminiscences of Dutt, appendix to Basu, 680.

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his play was unjustly rejected. Moreover, he created a female protagonist at a time when the purdah and zenana systems presided over Indian women. It is important for us to remember that in 1873, Dutt exhorted the owners of the new professional company, the Bengal Theatre, to introduce actresses on the commercial Bengali stage when they opened with his own play Sharmishthā. He died in June that year, unable to witness their revolutionary premiere in August that so scandalized Calcutta by the presence of actresses recruited from “disreputable” quarters that even the leading women’s reformist, Vidyasagar, severed ties with Bengal Theatre, whom he had previously encouraged. Rizia personifies what has become a contemporary academic cliche of the doubly marginalized—a tragic heroine belonging to a minority community—but in actuality quadruply hemmed in, because the nobles opposed her for reigning over the Sultanate (a man’s prerogative) and for daring to love her Abyssinian Siddi slave (Dutt’s source implied only the racism, while he invented the romantic angle). Dutt consciously made her a fourfold “captive ladie”: as a woman, a Muslim for 19th-century Indian audiences, one who assumed power above her gender role, and one who loved below her socio-racial station. Note on the Text Dutt’s second major biographer, Nagendranath Som, printed some scenes from Acts I to III of Rizia in 1921, as an appendix to his Madhu smriti (“Memories of Madhu”), under the title “Extracts from a Drama Written in Madras”.15 He explained that he had transcribed them from a “manuscript found recently ... in Madhusudan’s handwriting and corrected by him.”16 He extracted portions of it, not the whole, just as he did with Dutt’s letters in the same book. Unfortunately, typical of many Bengali scholars who do not disclose details of their sources, making it impossible for later researchers to follow them up, he did not cite anything

Nagendranath Som, Madhu-smriti (Kolkata: S. C. Sanyal & Co., Chaitra 1327 [1921]), 682-98. 16 Som, 77. My translation.

15

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more about where or when he found the manuscript. Relying on Som, editors of Dutt’s collected works or plays included this text.17 In 1973, Sureshprasad Niyogi created a minor coup among Dutt aphiles by publishing an essay in the Bengali literary journal Chatushkon, claiming to have discovered the previously missing issues of The Eurasian which contained the first printed drafts of Rizia. Niyogi had these scenes reprinted in Chatushkon, too; but once again, no mention of where he had obtained those rare issues.18 He had for some years researched Dutt’s Madras career, recovering many of his lost or unknown English writings. But my analysis of the multiple spelling mistakes and missing lines in Niyogi’s text compels me to conclude that either he copied it in longhand less than perfectly or the Chatushkon press typeset it inaccurately. Curiously, though, a few typos in The Eurasian itself point to the compositor in Madras misreading Dutt’s characteristic pen strokes, especially of “s” and “ss”, as in “ceasely” for “ceaseless”, or “nurp’d” for “nurs’d”, carried over in Niyogi. Convinced by Niyogi’s logic that, since Dutt himself had printed these scenes and no other published version of Rizia had come out while he lived, these should take precedence as the authoritative text, the editor of the definitive complete works, Kshetra Gupta, replaced Som’s earlier “manuscript” reading with this one, effective from his fourth edition (1973). However, Gupta added errors of his own to Niyogi’s somewhat troublesome redaction. Serendipitously, when I chatted about this project casually with a student of mine, Pramantha Mohun Tagore, direct descendant of the Jotindro Mohun–Sourindro Mohun Tagore lineage, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. A few days later, he brought two leather-bound 17 Michael Madhusudan Dutt (Datta in Bengali), Madhusudan Rachanābali, ed. Kshetra Gupta, till the 3rd ed. (Kolkata: Sahitya Samsad, 1965); Madhusudan Nātya Granthābali, ed. Mahammad Manirujjaman (Dhaka: Pakistan Book Corporation, 1969). 18 Sureshprasad Niyogi, “Madhusudaner Bilupta Kābyanātya: Rizia, the [sic] Empress of the [sic] Inde”, Chatushkon, Volume 13, Baishakh 1380 [April 1973], 218-29. He printed the text, under the subtitle “A Dramatic Fragment”, in the Appendix, 267-94. The National Library, Kolkata, possesses the relevant issues of The Eurasian.

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volumes to show me: Dutt’s Bengali manuscript of Tilottamā (which Jotindro Mohun had aided in publishing) and the English manuscript of Rizia (in extremely damaged shape, several pages completely illegible because water had soaked the ink all over the paper, and generally in brittle condition, crumbling to the touch). Pramantha revealed that these had been in his family’s possession. It does not take a detective to conclude that Dutt had entrusted both to J. M. Tagore, whom he knew very well. But only a Dutt specialist and one who has read his letters can understand that because Dutt wanted desperately to have Rizia performed, with that specific aim in mind, even after Gangooly had reported to him their unease about his synopsis and the idea, he still gave it to Tagore hopefully to secure some promise on this matter from the Rajas. Also, Dutt must have been happy enough with his play to hand the manuscript over to Tagore before he left Calcutta in 1862. Alternatively, he may have given it to Tagore after his return, upon learning that the Tagores’ own Pathuriaghata Theatre was continuing to stage plays. Other aspects of this 16 cm x 21 cm volume—its cover lettering gold-embossed, perhaps later, with J. M. Tagore’s partial insignia of a trident (trishul)—support my contention. It features the first three Acts in full, not merely the scenes selected for printing by Som. Possibly, Som had gained access to this very manuscript in its pristine form; but the ravages of time and careless preservation led to its present condition. Further, Dutt had written on its inside back cover, having turned the volume upside down: The Drama of the East (First Series) By M. S. Dutt 1855 We can only surmise that he may have fleetingly planned Rizia in 1855 as the first play in a series. The recto page facing this bears a struck

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out inscription in Dutt’s hand, “There is not a single line, expression, or thought, in the following pages, suggested by an Englishman: it is the author’s ambition to stand or fall alone”, initialled by him with the dateline “Madras University 1855”, suggesting that Dutt had worked on it till the last year of his stay in Madras. Indeed, Act III Scene I is even dated precisely, as 28/5/55. Most crucially, in this manuscript Dutt crossed out certain lines from Act I Scene II that appear in The Eurasian, indicating that he had revised his 1849-50 script. And just a simple comparison with the “fragment” (labelled as such by Dutt in print) in The Eurasian proves that Dutt had fleshed out the play during the intervening period while compressing existing scenes, made it much more theatrical to the extent that the “dramatic poem” had become more like a poetic drama, and divided it into acts and scenes whereas The Eurasian carried only nine scenes numbered serially. Incontrovertibly, this manuscript has provenance as the last extant text of Rizia coming from Dutt’s hand, and must reach readers as such, despite its shortcomings and unfinished nature. I have reconstructed a collated recension of Rizia from the three versions that survive. For the reasons explained above, the rediscovered manuscript copy (MS) serves as the base text. Everything there is transcribed here verbatim, to the best of my abilities. For passages and words that have become smudged or indecipherable, I have relied on Som’s extracts from the presumed same MS in a cleaner state, if at all he printed that particular scene. I have interpolated those scenes from The Eurasian (PT for printed text) that do not correspond to scenes in the MS; to clarify, because Scene I in the PT is equivalent to but earlier than Act I Scene I in the MS, I have excluded it, but inserted most of the other PT scenes in the places where the dramatic narrative requires them. However, I have emended readings wherever I found obvious mistakes in English. Readers now have nearly four-fifths of Dutt’s play in a logical sequence, which they may compare with his synopsis. But the synopsis further suggests that Dutt wished to tighten an already sprawling Rizia to more manageable stageworthy proportions, for it omits many scenes and characters present in the PT and MS.

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Unhappily, on account of the many illegible portions in the MS, I have had to resort frequently to ellipses. They will interrupt smooth reading and comprehension, but cannot be helped. Words and lines in square brackets mark emendations of my own or from the PT, as identified by footnotes. Asterisks and obelisks introduce the footnotes that Dutt provided in The Eurasian, while my notes occur in numerical sequence. For the sake of stylistic uniformity, I have applied capitals, italics and bold typeface according to editorial judgment; Dutt did underline some but not all stage directions, to mark the publishers’ convention of italicizing them. I have indented speech beginnings as necessary to indicate continuity of iambic pentameter lines broken by conversation: Dutt most often did not. Finally, I should state that Dutt himself did not spell or capitalize consistently—for instance, he used both “Allah” and “Alla”—and I have followed his hand, but corrected it in case of self evident errors that he would surely not have passed in print. Ananda Lal

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RIZIA1 Empress of Inde*

(a Dramatic Poem)

[Written in 1849.]

M. S. Dutt

1

This page occupies the first verso after the flyleaves of the MS, exactly as Dutt wrote and framed the lines on it, including the round and square brackets (see reproduction overleaf). The recto opposite is blank. As mentioned in the Introduction, the PT has “(A Dramatic Fragment)” instead, which supports its earlier composition relative to this MS.

*

Vide. Ferishta—translated by Alexander Dow. [The first footnote in Dutt’s PT. It refers to Mahummud Casim Ferishta, History of Hindostan, translated by Dow from the Persian (London: T. Becket and P. A. De Hondt, 1768).]

Title page in the manuscript of Rizia

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PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.2 Men. Jammal Balin. Munher Byram [Bairam Kabirc Altunia. [Kabir [Jamal]. Sing [Manohar Khan]. or Bahram]. Singh].

Must [Mast].

Rizia’s brother—afterwards emperor. Governor of Sind. A nobleman, Altunia’s friend. Do Rizia’s Favourite (a slave). A Rajpoot officer of the imperial household troops. A Drunken fellow in the employ of the emperor.

A Broker or Money-lender. Women. Rizia [Razia]. Leela. Sherin.

Mehdee.

Empress. A Persian maid. } A Hindu maid. } Favourites of the empress. Must’s wife, maid to the two young ladies.

(Noblemen; Soldiers; Officers; Heralds; Citizens; Slaves; a Fakeer).

2

This Dramatis Personae in English accompanied the synopsis that Dutt gave to K. C. Gangooly to deliver to the Rajas of Paikpara. Quoted in Yogindranath Basu, Michael Madhusudan Dutt-er Jibancharit, 5th ed. (Kolkata: Dey’s, 1925), 302-3. It includes by name only the major characters. The manuscript has several others, which Dutt either did not list here or added to the MS later. Dutt’s spellings follow those of Alexander Dow, which he probably read in the 1803 edition, where for some reason “Kabir Chan” (see Dow, 1768 first ed., page 185) got abbreviated erroneously to “Kabirc”. “Chan” used to be an older English transliteration of “Khan”. I have provided the currently accepted spellings of names, if different, in square brackets.

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Act I Scene I3 Delhi (a chamber in the imperial palace)

ALTUNIA, KABIRC.4 Alt:5 O’tis a shame past utterance! tell me not— I’d rather that yon vile idolator— Trod on my father’s grave—aye, built upon it His idol’d shrine for damned rites obscene! What—must a loathsome wretch—a cursed slave Clasp in his foul embrace the queen, who sits Upon the mighty throne of boundless Inde, To revel in harlot riots— Kab: Nay—gently, friend! be For these words e’en Echo must not hear To blab with that controlless tongue of hers. I too have heard it darkly whisper’d round That our Abassan6 friend—but such a tale, So wild, so strange, so passing strange, Altunia! Dost think ’tis true? ’Tis true, by Heaven, ’tis true! Alt: I tell thee, Kabirc! Come with me tonight To the royal banquet, and if there thine eyes 3

4

5

6

This scene corresponds to Scene I in the PT. Since the MS is obviously revised (see my Introduction), I have excluded the PT from consideration for this scene, except for its footnotes. Dutt does not capitalize characters’ names in the introductory lines to scenes in the MS, but the PT does, and so do I in order to conform to older printing conventions. Dutt’s speech headings are inconsistent; here, he spelt Altunia in full. For the sake of standardization, I have shortened all of them uniformly, according to his own subsequent abbreviations of the headings, and followed them with his preferred colons though he sometimes used periods. Abyssinian.

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Read not this tale of shame in every page, Writ as with burning characters of fire, [a chapter’d infamy,]7 and commentaried By every look and word—Call me a fool, A faithless, an accursed Nazarene!* Yea—an idolator who blindly kneels To things of wood and stone—a pagan dog! O why doth Hell delay to ope her jaws And swallow this broad Land— Kab: Nay, gently, friend! Perchance it hath no such keen appetite. But tell me first if this thy tale be true, What medicine hast thou, what remedy To cure a— Alt: O by Alla’s holy throne! as Soon I reach my fair, my beautiful Sind, I’ll raise unnumbered hosts, and teach each trumpet (The thunder-voic’d and clamorous tongue of war) To breathe the loudest dirges o’er the grave Of my allegiance, and with flood-like strength Rush forth to hurl destruction! Brave resolve! Kab: as But knowest thou that soon the faintest echo Of rebel-trump doth whisper in this palace, A fearful lioness will wake to crush— Alt: A fearful lioness!—The rotten leman Of a vile slave— Kab: Hark thee, Altunia! Thou ravest, by my troth! Hast thou forgot— When fierce Lahore with his brave feod’ries And mighty cohorts round yon lofty wall 7

Inserted in pencil in the margin.

*

A Christian!—A Nazarene dog! for such is the name which “The Faithful” bestow on us. [PT]

Rizia

Rais’d gleaming forests of unnumber’d spears, And frown’d with horried splendour, as the sea Peopling with billowy squadrons its shoreless plain To meet the cloud-carr’d storm, what time afar Wild gales sound martial blasts, and the bright sun Flies all aghast, and on his fated deck Stands the lone mariner in silent awe!— When the appalling silence of the desart, The loneliest desart of fair Arabie— Fell in this sun-bright city, and pale fear Unnerv’d the bravest hearts, and robbed the hue Of many a manly, many a lovely cheek, How then this rotten leman of a slave, Like an enchantress, with a smile, a look, A whisper’d word, drove the fierce hordes away, And won a bloodless victory!— Ah! I remember me. When breathless with haste, A messenger rush’d to the pale divan, And cried, “All’s lost!—Beneath the blood-red wave “Of Gunga, fatal stream!—the pride of Oude8 “Hath found a watery grave!—O mighty queen, “There comes no succour from the death-cold hand!” How fearful was the silence! Proudest chiefs Stood statue-like, and one, methinks, could hear The beatings of each heart—so still it was! She, only she, stood up, as if she came E’en from high Alla’s throne—a Comforter, And spake in accents sweet, how softly sweet! Their echo’d melody dwells in my heart! “Fear not, brave chiefs! for tho’’tis ours to weep “The triumph of a foul and traitorous foe “O’er fair and honourable loyalty, “Yet there is hope. The valiant and the wise 8

Ganga, and Oudh (Awadh).

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“Will ne’er despair; for when the sword and spear “Lose their sharp edge, they shrink not but they ply “The arms forg’d in the mind’s deep armorie “By Reason, which to Conquest ever leads.” She paus’d and from that speechless multitude Pass’d to the royal chambers. When at the crystal portals of the East, Next morn the sun stood like a traveller Who sees before him a vast solitude And hesitates to tread his lonely path, All, all had vanish’d—all that mighty host! ’Twas wonderful, Altunia! Wonderful! Alt: I know it, Kabirc! and I know her wiles, But then I fear them not: the thousand friends Who throng’d around her once, where are they now? Kab: ’Tis true. But yet to rush to the tiger’s den, Tho’solitary, is a fearful thing! Her friends thou say’st are cold, I grant they are, But will they help thee in thy bold emprize! Alt: I know not. But, methinks, the Turkish chiefs Who crowd this court, and like a ghastly/hideous9 rout Of ghouls and afreets, wander round for prey— Methinks those chiefs will never close their ears When gold is the sweet burthen of the song, What seek those mercenary wretches whom They serve? E’en yester-night I heard one say That he was as a merchant, his bright sword Being his commodity, which he would sell To him who bade the highest—a useful knave! Kab: Well—but beware, Altunia! beware, For, by the Prophet! ’tis a wild emprize. I love not, my noble friend! to see thee wrong’d, For I have trod the tented field with thee, 9

The MS has both words; Dutt had not decided on which to keep.

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Fought on the embattled plain beneath thy banner, I love not to see thee wrong’d. But O beware! This sword— (Enter a slave) What seek’st thou here? Slave: The peace of God, be And of his Prophet upon ye, nobles! The glorious empress of the world remembers The flow’r of chivalry, the chief of chiefs, The sword of battle, the Lord Kabirc!— Kab: Ah!— (Exit slave Farewell, Altunia! We meet again tonight. (Exit Alt:

Cold-hearted wretch! Yet why? The unutterable pang that rends This heart, O God! The unutterable pang, And, like a storm on the wave-peopl’d sea, Lashes each thought to madness, doth he feel! A loathsome slave!—(Laying his hand on his sword.) I’ll not unsheathe thee now, But in my beautiful Sind. Thou wilt not prove False to the hand that wields thee well and promptly! In my youth’s noon-tide hour, when all was bright, I lov’d her, and I dreamed that I had won Her maiden heart, nor was it all a dream! O that the past had never been for me! Or that thy busy fingers had not writ This tale upon thy pages, Memory! Oft have I prayed that stern destroyer, Time, —How oft!—to blot it out as the wild wave Blots out the characters some idle hand Traces upon the sand[y] beach it comes

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To kiss: oft have I prayed, but all in vain! The sculptur’d brow of the firm-basëd rock Aye mocks the jealous frenzy of the sea. Yet how, O how could she forget the vow, The fond communings of those rosy hours, When—O false woman! Traitress in the guise Of a bright daughter of ethereal fire, Love-eyed and music-voicëd! Gracious God!— Dost thou apparel souls so leprous, foul, In such resplendent glory! Dost thou shrine Hearts, so inconstant, and so base and false, In temples of such sweet, such nameless beauty! But hush— (Enter … 10 Scene II11 (A banqueting hall in the imperial palace.)

RIZIA, JAMMAL, BALIN, KABIRC, SHERIN, LEELA. Riz: Give me the liquid ruby!* (A slave offers wine) Sweet Sheraz!— O land of Song, of Beauty and of Love, Bright as the aeriest dreams of lonely maiden,

10 The next six pages of the scene are virtually illegible; they include Balin, Altunia and Kabirc. Curiously, Som too ended the scene with asterisks here; could this mean that the pages were damaged already when he transcribed them, or that they were damaged during the transcription? The PT had ended even earlier, after Altumia lays his hand on his sword. 11 Corresponds to Scene II and a portion of Scene III in PT, but much revised.

*

“A melted ruby is a common periphrasis for wine in the Persian poetry.” Sir W. Jones. “Boy! let yon liquid ruby flow.” H [PT; “H” short for Hafiz].

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By mossy marge of diamond-show’ring fount, In wild, voluptuous mood! sing me a song Of sweet Sheraz; and, songstress! let thy lay Be soft as the melodious-murmur’d vows Of the fond bulbul to his queenly love. (She looks at Jammal) Kab: Balin! a glorious vision—beautiful! (Pointing to Sherin as she advances.) Look there, how like the dewy, cloudless dawn, Walking with feet of light on eastern skies! Ah! hast thou flow’rs like this to star thy bow’r, Thy Paradise, O Prophet! an thou hast, Show but a glimpse to us of thy sweet treasures And all the world’s thine own!— (She dances) O Saqui!* bring the sparkling bowl, Enwreath’d with freshest flow’rs and fair, To bathe in liquid joy the soul Of those that love and banish care, And seek on woman’s heaving breast Their sweetest Paradise of rest! And, songster! let thy living lyre Breathe to the lovers’ ravish’d ears The impassion’d voice of young desire, Soft as the music of the spheres, And win each heart to love’s gay bliss— The fond embrace, the nectar’d kiss!

*

Saki. [Spelt thus in PT]—A cup-bearer. The OCNOCHOOS of the Greeks. [PT]

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Look on yon gul12—her cheek of glow Is woman’s blush, how sweet and true! Doth not yon snow-rob’d lily show Her swelling bosom’s hidden hue? And then—but seek them in her arms, For tongue may name not woman’s charms! His life is as a leafless tree, A fountless desert, waste and lone, Who kneels not in idolatry, O Beauty! to thy sovran throne! If such there be, away—away, Earth hath no joy for such as they! Riz: My Rose of fair Sheraz! (Sherin kneels) Ha! art thou sad, O maiden of the soft and lotus eye!13 The silent music of thy pensive look Is a strange prelude, Leela! Leela: Gracious lady! Are there not hearts o’er which the voice of Music Sweeps as a wail of sorrow, aye awakening The saddest thoughts, the slumbering memories Of griefs that cannot die? What say’st thou, Kabirc! Bal: 12 Gul means flower or rose in Persian and many north Indian languages. In PT, Dutt had used “rose”. 13 In the PT, Leela responded with six lines that Dutt incorporated in the MS but then cancelled, proving that the MS dates from later. Readers interested in the PT, albeit poorly transcribed, can access it most easily in Dutt’s collected works, Madhusudan Rachanābali, ed. Kshetra Gupta, 4th ed. (Kolkata: Sahitya Samsad, 1973), 609-635. Leela’s six lines occur on page 613. In Niyogi’s text, they occur on p. 271.

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How sweet e’en in her sadness, like a flow’r Dropt stealthily from some high latticed window, Bedew’d with tears of captive woman’s love, And dropt—a silent messenger of hope Of constancy that will not—cannot change— Riz: Silent and yet how eloquent— My Leela! Sing me thy song. Thou mak’st my bosom sad. (Looks at Jammal) A Slave: (Whispering to Kabirc.) Look there, my Lord! (He retires in the crowd) Kab: (Starts and looks behind.) It cannot be—O fie, ’Tis phantasy, and yet how like his voice! His fleetest barb is winging him away To other scenes— Leela: (Singing.) On his steed of war etc.14 [On his steed of war, With bright scimitar, And mighty—mighty shield, In warrior-pride, From his weeping bride, He sought th’embattl’d field: And his gentle ladye-love did sigh, With hueless cheek and tearful eye; Yet beautiful she look’d I ween, Tho’ faded of her brow the sheen— Tho’ all alone she sat in voiceless agony!

14 In the MS, Dutt left it thus, referring to the song that he had printed in Scene III of the PT. I have excerpted here the full song from the PT.

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’Twas when the Moslem came, Like storm-bestriding flame, With cloud-like hosts in grim—in grim array; And the Crescents’ blood-red gleam Fell on sunny land and stream, And blasted all—erst beautiful and gay: When monarch from his festive hall— And chief and lord and vassal all; Unsheath’d the flashing warrior-brand For thee, O Inde! their fatherland, And rush’d in linked steel to the wild battle-call. And the lovely ladye she did sigh, And the tear was in her lustrous eye, And pensively her maidens round her stood— As stars around the throne, so bright, Of the beautiful—pale Queen of Night, I’ the meak and modest light of maidenhood! And thus she sat by night and day, And her mute lips moved—but ’twas to pray To Him, who from His throne above, Looks down on all with eye of love, From him, her warrior lord—how far—O far away * * * And now—O bitter—bitter tale! There came a voice—a voice of wail, And it came from the hapless foughten field, And it told of countless warriors slain Of death—of shame—of captive chain! Then rose the fearful dirge by myriads peal’d. But where was she, that ladye fair? O did she weep in wild despair! They knew not: for from hall and bow’r She vanish’d from that fatal hour;

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And when the savage foeman came In demon-glee, with sword and flame, He sought—but sought in vain for Beauty’s loveliest flow’r!] Riz: ’Tis a sad lay, my Leela! Alas! our fathers Lov’d not this land, the lion loves not his prey. They came with hearts encased i’ the linked steel Of bigot-hate, and quenchless lust of war!15 A Noble: They came—th’ avenging ministers of the Prophet! O Empress of fair Inde! Long had this land With gorgeous fanes, with shrines of golden glory, With cursed rites, obscene, unholy, vile, Serv’d Eblis16 and his damned and impious crew Marring the blessed rest o’the sainted spirits With hellish dissonance and insulting Heav’n— Riz: Thou speakest as the oracle of God, My noble lord! But cease, I pray thee, cease. And do the ministrels etc. Song etc.17 [And do the minstrels of thy palmy land, My gentle Leela! teach their sweet-voic’d maidens Naught save such mournful lays? Go—and bethink thee of some blithesome song.— And now, my sweet Sherin! I long to hear The voice, which is as echo softly caught From realms of Harmony and eternal Joy! Sherin: Thy wish, O glory-endiadem’d Majesty! Is law to us, thy slaves! (She bows—Then plays on her lute and sings) Again—again—again, O come to our lone—lone trysting bow’r, 15 Leela is Hindu. Rizia, of course, is Muslim, but criticizes the early invaders belonging to her faith. 16 Or Iblis, the Devil in Islam. 17 Again, Dutt refers to an extract from the PT, including a song. I have excerpted it within square brackets.

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Where Moon and Star and leaf and flower Will gently smile on the union sweet Of hearts that in fond gladness meet. And part with depthless anguish—untold pain! Again—again—again, O come where thou shalt peaceful lie On Virtue’s breast—sunn’d by her eye— And fann’d by breath which softly blows, Like the twilight-sigh of the queenly rose, And list to her tender truthful strain! Again—again—again, O come where flow’rs their perfumes shed On thy green and starlit bridal bed— And gladsome waters roll along Murmuring forth thy bridal song, E’er dark-brow’d night asserts her stilly reign! Again—again—again, O dearest ’ever fly to me Where all alone I sigh for thee, As to his lily-breasted love On wings of faithful lone the dove, When from the leafy spray she sings her joyous strain!] Riz: (Rising) My noble lords! My loving subjects, Who have grac’d our Banquet, God be with ye! It gladdens me to see ye ’neath … Where cares of [state], its sorrows are forgot, And … physician, … medicines each weary soul, Good night!— All: Long live our empress Rizia!

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Riz: Thanks and good night.— (Exeunt omnes. Manent Rizia and Jammal, as also Kabirc, who conceals himself behind a pillar Kab: My poor Altunia! far But thou art away—speedfoot thy … Now ’gins another act—a softer one[.] (Rizia and Jammal) [Riz:] O speak to me, my Jammal! Kneel not thus—18 (She raises him) [Nay—kneel not thus. Why should’st thou make me quit The world-controlling sceptre which I hold? For quit it e’en I must, if that its splendour Doth make sweet Love thus fold his sun-bright wings, And droop!—come, draw thee nigh. The diadem Of mightiest monarch may not teach the heart To lock its fount of feelings; and tho’ Pride (Like snow upon the mountain’s aery brow) Doth to congeal it strive—sweet sunny dreams Oft haunt its gentle waters, warm and bright, And then the icy chillness!—draw thee nigh Look here—sweet Jammal! I—whom worlds obey— * * * From where the sleepless tide Of Indus rolls, to where bright Eastern skies Bend down to kiss blue ocean;—and again, From where with brow of solitude untrod But by the shadow of the Deity, The Himmalay-home of eternal snow! Rises in aery grandeur—soaring high, In glorious—unimagin’d majesty,

18 Although not necessarily a cue to Rizia’s eloquent speech in the PT, I have interpolated the speech here on aesthetic grounds.

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To where in lonely beauty Comorin19 Lists to the ceaseless whispering of the sea And blushes to its liquid kiss;—a land Of boundless plains of wide and silver streams— Of queen-like cities vast and beautiful— Of mount and vale of nameless splendour—all All these are mine—and yet to thee I kneel E’en as the poorest maiden—who doth hear The name of Rizia as a spell—a sound Of unconceived glory—fraught with naught Of this low Earth! Ah! oft in solitude, Midst scenes of proudest pomp—how oft—I sigh For that poor maiden’s cot by margent green Of silver-water’d rill! how oft I sigh To chide like her the lonely star of eve For his delay to call the labourer home, And light the lamp of joy in her silent hearth; But part we now and when again we meet Let not thy eye and tongue belie thy heart Farewell—farewell—] Jam: My gracious mistress— Riz: Would I were thy slave! O that I could for ever rend thy robe Tho’wove of golden thread, … Royalty! O speak … Gracious lady! Jam: This tongue is but a poor interpreter! (Enter a slave) Riz: Darest thou intrude thus, slave!— Slave: (Kneeling) Most glorious Empress!

19 Cape Comorin, Anglicized name of Kanyakumari, the southernmost tip of India. The allusion is apt not just geographically but also because Kanyakumari means “young girl”, after an ancient temple there, where devotees pray for marital blessings.

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Necessity hath brought me to the Presence. Riz: Speak— Slave: The noble Altunia— Riz: What of him? be Let him lodg’di’ the Lion-gated palace, Well guarded— Alt [sic; All]: Slave: He is gone— Altunia gone? Slave: Fled with his escort, lady! Riz: Set a thousand soldiers, Mounted on fleet[est] steeds, and pursue them With whirl-wind speed—Go Jammal (Exit Jammal and Slave) Away, fond thoughts! (Exit) Kab: (Coming out) Aye, let them go—he is beyond the reach E’en of thy omnipotence, Rizia! A Voice: My lord Kabirc! Gracious God!— [Kab:] Twice have my ears drunk in that voice tonight! It haunts me—Who art thou? (Altunia appears in disguise) Alt: Know’st thou me not? Kab: (Recognizing him) O art thou mad, Altunia? Alt: Yea, I am mad! Take this my sword—Alas! I have no sword! Thine own will do, and pierce this heart, dear Kabirc! It … within me like a wounded snake! I could not go—I long’d to see again, To gaze once upon that beautiful face! O be not … — Kab: Thus doth the [silly] night-fly.

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Intoxicate with love, rush to the embrace O’the bright taper—cruel murdress, The gates are guarded, and a thousand soldiers Out in pursuit of thee, Altunia! Alt: I have learnt That this sword would … Away from the bright Sun to sport in. But that a chain wrought of … gold, Aye curbs its wayward struttings and it treads Its circular path reluctant— Thus, methinks, This soul is … Kabirc! I could not O I did long to see that face again! O take thy sword— Kab: My noble, noble friend! And are those tears I see upon thy cheeks? Alt: I loved her, love her, Kabirc! Kab: O Great Alla! And does the warrior chief of fair, green Sind Shed tears for woman’s love! (A pause) Come, follow me, Remember that thou art a slave, Altunia! This head would ... food for carrion crows If thou wert known, and thine too— O farewell! Alt: Look to the Turkish chiefs— Kab: Come, follow me, Time flies like to a thief, nor looks behind, Nor pauses, but flies on,— Come follow me On to the Eastern gate. (Exeunt)

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Scene III (The Eastern gate, A SENTRY.)

(Enter a Soldier) Sold: Comrade, what our [sic] o’the night? Its noon is past. Sent: Look up—who’d you see— Sold: O I see many— A thousand … in groups With twinkling fires, irregularly lit Afar the Moon is the imperial ... Sent: Well—’tis an hour ago the sound of music, And joyous revelry ceased in the palace. Sold: Ah then ’tis time That thou should’st … thy throne and sceptre, A throne, one can not sit or lie upon— A sceptre sharper than our lady Rizia’s! Sent: Thanks, Comrade! And gladly do abdicate, Since I am [’plac’d?] by thee, but beware, Let not a single soul pass out tonight, On peril o’thy life— To hear is to obey. Sold: Sent: Should any— (Enter Kabirc and Altunia, the latter still in disguise) Who goes there? Friends, valiant spahi20! Kab: am I the lord Kabirc, And this my slave— Salaam, my noble lord! Sent: The Kotwal21 has proclaimed— Kab: I know it, spahi! Look here (shows a pass) 20 Sepoy, from Persian and Urdu sipāhi. 21 Chief of police.

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Sent: Pass, noble lord with this thy slave, salaam! Kab: Salaam, my valiant friend! (Exeunt Kab: and Alt:) Sent: Some blooming woman, Is the fair haven to which yonder craft Is piloted by that vile slave! Good night!— (Exit.—Kab: and Alt: at a distance.) Alt: O for the reedy banks of my broad Indus, The King of floods! But fear not, dearest Kabirc! I go thro’Ajmeer—’tis a land I love Thick-peopl’d by a brave, a generous race. Well may they call themselves, with lofty pride, The Sons of Royalty!—Royal they are, Right royal, Kabirc, and right hospitable! And now God be with thee. Thou know’s my plans, Look to the Turkish chiefs. Farewell! (Exit) Kab: …! It is a dangerous sport, but it becomes him. I must tarry yet awhile—as I came double, I must not go back single. (Exit. The scene closes.) Scene IV22 (A Prison)

PRINCE BYRAM (looking out of the window) Byr: Come, thou sweet breath of Morn! come, fan this brow, 22 From PT: Byram does not appear in the MS, but the PT has two important scenes featuring him. Dutt must have intended to insert these later, for he began this scene but crossed it out, which may explain some empty pages at this point in the MS.

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And cool its sleepless fever,—let me feel Thee, spirit thou, gay-wing’d, with heart of joy! Or rather—gladsome child of Liberty! This wide—wide world is thine—thy boundless home! Now art thou on thy blithesome pilgrimage, To scenes of dewy beauty:—all night long Thou’st revell’d with green leaf and ladye-flow’r— And when the sun shall shine, blue Ocean’s breast Will rock thee to sweet slumbers! Art thou gone? Yes—like life’s sun-shine, short-liv’d! Pass’d away. Would that my soul could burst its captive-cell— But hush!—They say it is a sin to sigh For death—and that the heart— (Enter a slave) Ha! who art thou? Slave: The noble Kabirc, prince! doth humbly crave Short speech of thee— Byr: Of me? The noble Kabirc? Well, let him come.— (Exit Slave) A gay, good-hearted fellow— Whom my imperial sister, Rizia, favours— (Enter Kabirc and salutes Prince Byram) Kab: My royal lord!—I grieve to see thee here— Byr: Why should’st thou, Kabirc! We, the hapless sons Of Royalty, are in this cursed land, Born for the throne or the damp dungeon-cell! But what’s the news? Kab: Brave news—your highness! The Chief of Terhind [Sind]23 has got up a most outrageous Rebellion and is already on his way with 23 The PT has Tirhind or Terhind right through. Dutt changed this to the more recognizable Sind in the MS. I have replaced all occurrences of “Terhind” with “Sind”, though the loss of a syllable affects the meter.

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Swarming Myriads— Byr: What! The Chief of [Sind]? The noble Altunia? Kab: The very same—an ’t please your highness. Byr: Art thou my friend, Kabirc! Kab: Here is my hand. (The Prince takes it) Byr: Away with thee—and let me hear the plans Of my imperial sister. I must go— ’Tis wonderful—last night I had a dream— But let that pass—farewell! (Exit Prince Byram) Kab: I love this poor Prince—but I love myself more. Who doesn’t? Should Altunia succeed, he must place Byram on the imperial throne—and then, glorious! Am I not his friend? Scene V24 (The Council-chamber)

RIZIA—JAMMAL—KABIRC—NOBLES— TURKISH CHIEFS—SLAVES &c. Riz: My valiant Lords!—my brave—my loyal chiefs! Know ye that foul rebellion once again Uprears the banner, whose dark shadow dims The sun-bright brow of Peace? But he shall hear— Bring forth the messenger.— (Exit a slave) And yet I doubt (abstractedly) That he should thus forget his fealty— His deep devotion—well, and be it so. They say that like Enchanter’s weird spell Oft Disappointment doth change our love To bitter—bitter hatred: and ’tis true 24 From PT. Corresponds to Act II Scene I in Dutt’s synopsis.

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He lov’d me once—and I—but ’twas a dream— He must be crush’d.— (Enter Messenger) Now, sirrah! tell thy tale. Mess: Queen of the Universe! and ye brave chiefs, Like golden planets round the King of Light! I come from far [Sind], whose potent lord Hath burst, in mighty wrath, the silken fetters Of loyalty, and fierce in freedom raves— And the dread cry of war is in the Land! Jam: Altunia? O peerless Majesty! It is an idle tale— Riz: Would that it were! 1st Noble: Methinks the noble chief of green [Sind] Could ne’er forget the aweful dignity, And might and grandeur of your royal throne.— ’Tis just as if the tiniest bird would soar High to the aery plain, and madly sound Proud challenge to the kingly eagle, there To battle for the air’s wide sovereignty! ’Tis too absurd— 2nd Noble: Yes—so it seems to me: Yet still, O royal ladye! Mother thou Of many—many nations, thine it is To banish from thy land wild, ruthless war, Which loves to revel with thy children’s blood. Riz: Thanks, venerable Lord! Our Father’s friend! And so we shall, for tho’ the breath of Age Hath chill’d the tameless daring of thy breast, We love thy counsel, for to us thy words Flow from deep Wisdom’s fount—look yonder, Noble! (Enter another Messenger) be What thy tidings? speak. Mess: Most gracious Queen!

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I come e’en on the wings of anxious haste— The Lord of wide [Sind], with mighty hosts, Comes torrent-like, in battalions array— Riz: (Rising) To arms, valiant chiefs! gird ye for war— And fling our royal banner to the gale, And bid the trumpets sound the battle-call, And wake ten thousand echos, which will wing Their thunder-blasts to nations—We must go— Ha! doth the craven mist from out its cave, Rayless and cold, presume to soar on high To cloud the sun’s bright, glory-halo’d brow? 2nd Noble: Queen of proud Inde! Hear me, thy Father’s friend— Thy oldest counsellor:—tho’ time hath chill’d The fiery glow of this mine aged breast— And Wisdom, daughter of Experience, quell’d The pride which once in tameless fury rag’d, Yet words like thine—heroic—high—and brave— Still find a sleepless echo answering there, As voice of Mirth in some deserted hall Whose melancholy loneliness responds E’en from its ruins—Wealth’s low sepulchre! It well beseems thee, glorious mother thou Of nations and fair daughter of proud kings Of unapproached glory—thus to be, Yet why should’st thou descend from yonder throne, Thyself to lead thy glorious hosts, to crush A dog—a dead, vile dog—for such the wretch Whose folly— Kab: (aside) Not so fast—Old gentleman! We’ll see it soon—a dog—a dead, vile dog— Riz: Bring forth my loftiest steed: the hand that wields The sceptre of a realm, must first unsheathe Its blade against the foe—to arms, my Lords! (Exit)

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2nd Noble: God’s holy will be done—the Prophet’s too! A warrior’s heart within a softer mould— The kingly eagle in a silken cage! But come, fair sirs! for I must gird my thigh E’en with my rusty blade.—God’s will be done. (Exeunt Jammal—Nobles—Slaves &c.)

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[Act II (Delhi—The SceneEastern II]25 gate.)

JOWAN, MEHDEE Jow: Tempt him, burn his soul, my fair fowler! O consume his … heart with the lightning glance o’ those dark eyes, Mehdee! He thought thee … Hark, he cometh— (Mehdee retires at a distance.) ’Tis an arrant … ([Lafzun] enters.) Lafz: Ah! Comrade! Hast heard how the banner o’War is being unfurl’d? Jow: Aye, Comrade! But we go not with the imperial army— Lafz: ’Tis a pity the Empress knoweth not where just true valour is housed. Methinks, I could kill me a hundred dogs of Sind at a blow o’ this tulwar26—(Seeing Mehdee) What houri disporteth her there? Jow: I know not, but … that whenever thou art here, I see her … Lafz: … Tuhmeeneh came to the bed-chamber of Roustum when ’twas midnight, tho’he knew her not.27 Your women worship valour! I shall speak to her. Jow: Go—thou lucky wight! (Lafzun approaching Mehdee) Lafz: … a houri from [Paradise]! I salute thee. Mehd: (Veiling herself) I know you not, sir! 25 This page, including the Act and Scene number as given, locale and first few lines, has been crossed out. It should stand as II.ii if Dutt intended the previous scene to be II.i. However, I have honoured his deletion of the location and opening dialogues on this page of the MS. He restarted the scene on the next page. 26 Talwār, or sword. 27 From the Persian Shahnameh. Princess Tahmina/Tehmineh came to Rostam/ Rustam at night and declared her love for him. Their son was Sohrab (see also III.vi).

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Lafz:’Tisthy misfortune,Tuhmeeneh, an thousay’st true. TheEmpress, may God eternize her dominion!—knoweth me! I’ve fought me a hundred battles—tho’ modesty would fain conceal my deeds, chronicled i’ the annals o’the Empire—may it ever extend! I am Lafzun, the spahi! Mehd: (Salaaming) Lafzun the valiant Roustum of Inde! … Lafz: Unveil thyself, Rukhsh28!—Tuhmeeneh! Mehd: Why call’st thou me Tuhmeeneh? Lafz: Why camest thou here? Mehd: O, spare my blushes! An I tell it thee thou would’st despise me! Lafz: Despise thee! I worship thee, Peri29! The [brighter] the blush o’the rose, the sweeter that song o’the bulbul! Mehd: Thy valour hath won my heart! O, oft have I heard how thou … , fearless of the lion and the pard; how the very Ghouls and Afrits show they are … —the Sultan o’the Jens30—they could not dread thee more! Lafz: Rightly have I called thee Tuhmeeneh, … His lover Tuhmeeneh was the daughter of a mighty King and she was beautiful as the Moon when not a cloud is by! Valiant Roustum was … her father’s guest. He … his bed-chamber at dead of night … Mehd: … beautiful as the Moon, thou say’st what I am— Lafz: Thou art a Peri, by the Prophet! Mehd: How know’st thou that? Thou hast not seen my face O thou flatterer … Lafz: No, the perfume of the rose … her presence, tho’ unseen, the music of thy voice telleth me thou art beautiful, a precious ruby in a casket! Mehd: O most valiant … Lafz: Unveil thee, Maiden! A warrior’s … knoweth no patience. … Mehd: That may not ... Roustum! But an ... thou lov’st me, meet me near … Place o’ Tombs, where the Moon, smiling on in the … of her womanhood, hath waned and sicken’d and died, and nature mourneth her in gloomy silence.

28 Perso-Arabic for radiance, beauty. 29 Persian for fairy. 30 Probably Jinns (Djinns); see also II.viii, where the Queen of Sheba is called Sultana of the Jens.

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Lafz: Where, say’st thou? Mehd: Near yond’ Place o’ Tombs, where yon tall yew trees stand like mourners round the frames of those they loved. Lafz: By the Prophet! ’Tis a dismal scene, And there be sprites from Hell haunt it!— Mehd: O fie! Methought thou know’st no fear— Lafz: ’Tis for thee I fear, my Peri!— Mehd: I fear nought, an thou art with me! But heigh, I hear footsteps— farewell! Fail not—my Roustum! (Exit hastily.) am Lafz: By the Prophet! ’Tis a dismal scene! Alas! I … the fowler hath …! An I go not, meet her not, she’ll cry shame on my manhood! Must I be laughed at by a woman? No! I’d perish first. But ’tis a dismal place! (Exit) Jow: (Coming forward) How sad he looked! By the Prophet, an he were sentenced to be impaled, he could not look sadder! ’Tis an arrant coward and he feareth a Place o’Tombs like a silly child!—Mehdee! (Enter Mehdee) Ah, thou smilest,—look yonder, … he goeth—(Lafzun passes.) Did bait him well? Said he not, ’tis long to wait? Mehd: Alas …!—He grew pale at the mention o’ the trysting place—it appeared to come over him like the voice o’ Doom! He called it a dismal place, & swore by the Prophet ’twas haunted by wicked spirits. (Enter a Herald and … followed by a crowd.) Heral: Hear, O citizens of imperial Delhi! … hath unfurl’d the standard of Rebellion, I proclaim him … from his honours and a rebel. Long live our glorious empress Rizia— (Drum beats, the … enter Must.) Must: (attacking a fat citizen) Yield thee, rebel! Citiz: O Rama!31 What mad man is this? Must: [Yield], thou Altunia, thou accurs’d rebel! (Knocks him down.) Citiz: O Rama! 31 The Citizen is Hindu, invoking Rama and, later, Rama’s brother Lakshmana.

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…… Citiz: What say’st thou, thou drunken rogue? Must: Drunken rogue? … dog! (Beats him with his …) Pluck … Citiz: O Lakshman!— Jowan: … fray this, my masters! … thou caitiff! … sirrah! An thou lovest … (Drags him away, Exit drummers, Herald & crowd) How darest thou! Must: I’m Mussulman, by Allah! and I hate a rebel dog as I hate an unclean pig! That fat rogue … is a rank rebel—’tis Altunia! Mehd Must: [sic; By the Jow]: beard Thou o’the art mad, Prophet, ’tis a asimple blacker …,dog! Your Soucar is a cursed a Soucar32— rebel, for, look you, my master! Who spurneth the equal yoke o’ Empress Justice so vilely, so wilfully!— Jow: Peace. Get thee away to thy … Mehdee!— (Enter Mehdee.) Must: Mehdee? My Peri! (Embraces her) Where hast thou been? O, I have sought thee up and down, for my home was desolate, its star-light was gone! My bower was as a desert; its only rose was pluckt away; the only palm that stood in green beauty by my fountain, was dead! Mehd: O my Must!—forgive me—& … forgive thee? May … Must: Come, my Mehdee!— (Exeunt Must and Mehdee) Jow: By the Prophet!—An they love not each other, I … ! (Delhi—A remote part of the [Scene city, aIII]33 Pagoda with a tank in a grove.)

LEELA (sitting) Leel: —Come, thou my gentle lute!—Thy aëry tongue Hath aye a voice, which o’er the sorrowing soul 32 Hindi sāhukār, meaning merchant. 33 After a few blank pages comes this unnumbered scene in the MS. However, Dutt mentions it as Scene III in the synopsis.

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Falls soothingly as the faint dream-like murmurs Of some far moon-lit rill!— (She plays) Are thou too, sweet! Sad as the heart that woos thee? … (Plays and sings) as Thou counsel’st a heav’nly oracle Hast thou a soul in thee? … call (She kisses & places it on the ground.) Why comes he not? (Rises and walks) O’tis a beautiful scene—a lonesome haunt, Thy shady woodland bow’r, calm solitude! Here the bright Sun, which shines on all around (Beyond this hallow’d spot, this solemn grove) Like the fierce frown of some offended god In fiery visitation … smiles, As if the liquid prayer of the lone fount, And the low orison of restless leaf, And the unuttered worship of the woods ... for sweet mercy and plead lest in vain! Let me sit on this flow’ry bank— (Sits down.) Sweet lotus!— Thou hast unveiled thy beauty, and thine eyes Rest fondly on the golden … Thou lov’st—O I do envy thee, thou dreamer That liv’st to love!—I give thee joy!34 (Enter Balin, Leela rises surprised) Lord Balin— Bal: Aye, fair Leela, Thou tremblest, maiden! O how like the lotus, 34 Dutt marked this place for inserting five lines that he wrote in the margin vertically, but the paper is torn and they are irretrievable.

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When the soft West comes whispering lovesome vows! Leel: What seek’st thou here, my lord!— Thee, sweetest Leela— Bal: And, by the Prophet, Love should woo thee here, In this calm solitude,— Leel: O good my Lord! It ill beseems a Moslem noble— Bal: Fie!— Knows thou not, maiden! Love doth conquer all, The noble and the hind! Come, seat thee! fairest! Methinks, ’twas … (Sits down) Your fond affection nestled on the … Of ever-young Desire! Leel: O God! defend me. Bal: Why trembl’st thou? Leel: Hear me. Lord Balin! I know not why thou com’st,— Have I not told thee? Bal: ’Tis a short tale, I love. And if thou lov’st, Leel: It is not here, my Lord, this templ’d grove— Bal: Love is a worship, Leela! and a creed: Are there not martyr hearts for love … And oft its very temple springs unseen, By mossy fountain … From the world’s jarring … afar Its cruel mockery, its ruthless war! There hope, the star-eyed Priestess ... doth light, Her vestal lamp, so spiritual … night. And … round the … votaries sigh Chants in soft accents her … O I do love. Come seat thee. Leel: Noble Balin!— It ill beseems a Moslem lord …

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To mock a poor maiden— Bal:

Tut, I mock thee not Think’st thou … I seek this unhallow’d spot, Tho’ beautiful it be, to mock and jest, No, Leela! By the Prophet, I came to seek thee, thou embosom’d dove, In this thy beauty’s bow’r, thy shady grove. Leel: Thou mock’st me, noble! Bal: (aside) Curse thy sister-hood (aloud, …) Fear not me, maiden. I love thee—thou art young, … as a voice, (A nightingale hid in a beautiful cypress.) Come to my harem and thou shalt be its queen, A hundred …-eyed daughters of the Faith, Shall serve thee. Bal: (aside) Leel: O, my lord! Thou … (aloud) … Shall be to thee … founts and … Music and mirth. Leel: O, cease my lord!— Bal: Or if thou sigh’st for gold, here is my purse— (Throwing it to her.) Leel: Darest thou … (Throws back the purse) Bal: Art thou mad, a … pagan! … gold, the God thy sister-hood doth worship. Leel: … thy gold with thee thou miscreant Moslem! Bal: What—this true? Thou shalt obey it, Leela! Yea, by my father’s … (Attempts to seize her. Enter Must at a distance.) Must: Your most delicate and luscious mangoes grow here—sweeter ones grace not the imperial table! I must pluck me some for my Mehdee. What an this grove be sacred to Eblis—I am a [lover] o’the Tooth. (Seeing Balin and Leela.) How now, what … is this? A fierce hawk

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and a sweet dove! By the Prophet—he hath her. Ah, thou strugglest in vain! Leel: Unhand me, villain! O thou, That … dread command, That, ashen in grim array, loud-bellowing clouds O’er-caponied [sic] the earth, o’er-flooding it With torrents of ceaseless rain,— Didst list thee To the sweet pray’r o’the pale …, Clear me, O God— Bal: Thou ravest, cursed pagan! I tell thee Leela— (Must approaches them … and throws Balin’s sword in the pool. The noise startles Balin.) Ha!—Thou damnëd slave! (Releases her.) Art weary o’thy life, thou miscreant! (Looks about for his sword.) Must: Thou must dive thee to the bottom o’yonder pool most … seek’st thy— Bal: Away—thou wretch! Must: Wherefore, my lord! This is no prey for such an eagle as thou! Depart in peace, for this my cudgel kisseth its lips o’ … heart [sic]-hearted— … not its mediation, woo it not. Bal: Thou shalt obey it, Leela, by my soul! And as for thee, thou base and drunken cur— Must: … thee, noble! provoke not the mediation o’ this cudgel, ’tis no respecter o’ persons! She who sitteth on the throne of Inde, tho’ a woman—may her resplendent beauty never fade!—is a …! Go thy way, an … (Exit Balin.) Leel: O dear Must! Some … hither! Must: … —thiefs, for… I came to—steal!

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Leel: O thou jests. The ways of the gods are mysterious. They touch the silent chords of the heart,— (Enter Munher Sing.) O my Munher!—(Running up to him.) Must: (aside & from behind a tree) Thou art a very lion’s whelp, by Alla! ’Tis not safe to come betwixt thee and thy … . Salaam (runs away) Munh: (Embracing her) Mine own Leela! My beautiful—why dost thou … Why look’st thou pale? … Leel: O my Munher! … [Munh: (… observing …) Must: ... thou hear’st (Leela follows. Getting behind a tree)]35 Munh: My God!—What means this, Leela! O my sweet one! Leel: Why did’st thou tarry? Munh: ’Tis the oft-told tale. But come, and seat thee by me, sweet my love! There is a cloud upon my weary soul, Quench not the sun-light of those eyes in tears! Know’st thou the she-wolf— O my gentle Munher! Leel: Thou know’st her not— (Puts her hand on his mouth.) Munh: … Know’st thou … Rizia— Leel: She’s our Empress Our mother, … reverence! Munh: Our Empress and our—mother, lady, nay, Our step dame, for she wastes our patrimony, In wanton riot,— Fie, thou art not just. Leel: It is her patrimony,—for her father 35 The page is very badly damaged, impossible to salvage these lines.

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Gifted her with it as her heritage. Munh: (Starting up) O for thine arm, thou Holder of the Plough-share! To tear the bowels of the stubborn …, And to … it! Leel: O my cruel Munher! Why dost thou look so fierce— (a pause) Munh: Sweet my Leela! … a man’s spirit … nothing my inmost self! (sits down again) Leel: Thine too— Munh: Well—our Empress— Thou conquer’st me, beautiful! and I do [yield] me, Know’st thou that she herself doth lead the army, To meet the rebel riot? It is her will, And she hath spoken. When she speaks, thou know’st, ’Tis as the interpreter of changeless Fate! O Leela, what a proud and lofty woman! Leel: Yet soft, dear Munher, as a gentle dove, And … as is, as is— Mine own lov’d Leela! Munh: (Kissing her fondly.) Thou limnest well mine own, O, I do love her! Leel: What, tho’she worships not the gods we worship, Her heart is as a shrine, and … Is altar’d there in rosy beauty, dearest! Munh: ’Tis whisper’d that Sherin and thou, sweet maiden, Go with her to the wars. O fly with me! How long— Leel: That can not be. Munh: Thou lovest me not,

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By Cama36, thou lovest me not! Leel:

O, say not so! O, do unsay those bitter words, my Munher! Munh: Thou lov’st me not.— I tell thee, Leela! I do hate this city, O, like a bitter and vile renegade It taunts my heart! (Rises.) It has a thousand tongues To chronicle our shame, our [guilt] or shame, And the proud Moslem’s glory! Come away, To where the [Banas?]37 sing the song of Freedom, And the … Lord The glorious chorus! ’Tis for thee I live, Amidst this hated scene, … Of all once dear to us—our … destroy Come nestle thee upon my bosom, Leela! And like a steed unbound … Imprison’d floods unchain’d— Leel: It can not be, (rises.) And yet I long to fly with thee, dear Munher, To that sweet land, thou speakest of so sweetly. I long to sit me on the flowery margent O’the murmuring Chumbul, or where flows the Loni38 By the silvery-sanded desarts of thy Ajmeer, Peopling with melody its solitude, Encircling thee as yonder mâlati39 Clings fondly to her lover—with these arms, (Embraces him) Gazing upon those eyes, as yonder lover 36 37 38 39

Kama, Hindu god of love. The rivers Banas and Chambal (mentioned later) flow south of Ajmer. Ajmer lies on the banks of the Luni. The fragrant mālati creeper, Aganosma dichotoma. A common conceit in traditional Sanskrit poetry.

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Gazes upon her lover’s golden brow; And yet it may not be—I could not leave her! She revived me from the devouring fever … no, when on my head On my unhappy, on my barëd head, The world shower’d pitily contempt, hard scorn! I may not leave her, Munher! E’en for thee. She goeth her to the wars, thou say’st, poor lady! O, could I leave her when dark dangers gather Like clouds around her? (A trumpet sounds) Munh: My noble Leela— Thy gentle eloquence doth woo his heart For her thou lov’st! Farewell. I may not … (Enter Sherin.) Sher: My Indian Roustum here? Didst hear the … Munh: Ay, my fair Persia’s Rose! Farewell, Leela! And thou too, sweet our sister! (Exit) Sher: How like a lion doth he bound and … In the wild glee of youth and strength ... Why look’st thou sad, my lotus! ... Soon will it wane to love … day— Leel: Sweet Sherin, seat thee by me. (They both sit down) am as I one who wakes her from a dream A hideous dream! But of that hereafter[.] Know’st thou our Empress hath herself— Sher: Dear Leela! When from the Council-hall, the queen return’d With a pale brow and fiercely heaving eyes, She sat her down in silence, musing deeply. Like one upon whose soul there is a weight,

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A burthen, and she sigh’d, and when I heard Her further sigh, I ceas’d to tremble, Leela! She cried—Where is my Leela? Where my Sherin? I knelt me down; she said,—My rose of Persia! Where is thy sister, mine own lotus? Call her. Go—call the thoughtless truant to my side. I go me to the wars; wilt follow me? Go—call thy sister.— Come, my gentle Leela! Leel: Thou art a Moslem, A daughter of the strangers’ creed. Dear Sherin! Wilt follow me to where our people worship? And we shall see the Future’s mystic page Unvolum’d. Sher: I’m a daughter of the Prophet And I have heard that ye do worship Eblis, But I will follow thee.— A being … my sweetest Leela! (Embracing her.) So good, so beautiful, so pure, so sweet, Can never worship that which is not good! But come. (Exeunt) Scene V (Delhi—The banks of the Jumna, a banyan tree with a small temple)

LEELA, SHERIN Leel: (after walking three times round the tree and kneeling.) I kneel me thus before thee, reverend tree, Image on earth of God’s benevolence!— Beneath thy spreading wings the fainting traveler, Reposeth him, fann’d by thy gentle breath,

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When the Sun sheds around a fiery flood, Fevering the earth’s blood thro’her thousand veins, Nor man alone: but heat-oppressëd flocks And suffering herds fly to thee, as her young ones To the fond mother-bird, their home of love! Thou hast a thousand leafy mansions for Night-tenants, weary pilgrims of the air, And luscious food thou dol’st with liberal hand Whispering sweet welcome with thy aëry tongue. O, I do worship thee, thou reverend tree, Image on earth of God’s benevolence! (Rises and joins Sherin.) Sher: It is a beautiful scene, my sweetest sister! List to the liquid warble of yon stream— Leel: It is her murmur’d vesper-hymn, dear Sherin! She is a goddess,40 Sweet! Thou smil’st— Sher: Methinks, she is a royal worshiper. Look, how the stars do gem her glorious brow; And the Moon clothes her with a silvery garment! Leel: She is the daughter of yon King of Mountains, Twin-born with Gunga; & she comes from where Eternal solitude sits thron’d on rocks Clad in the whitest snow: and I have heard That if a pilgrim’s daring feet can scale The wild, bleak, frowning height & reach the spot, Where the Sun first doth kiss her aeriëd waters, His eyes behold the golden portals of Bright Swerga41—where the blest immortals are, And his ears drink the harmony of Heaven In fitful bursts of sweetness. Dost thou smile?— Sher: Our Persian maidens too have wondrous tales 40 The river Jamuna (“Jumna”), which, like the Ganga, rises in the Himalaya mountains. 41 Swarga, or heaven.

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Of mist-encurtain’d Paradise, dear Leela! But look around thee. (Rises.) O, how glorious!— Look, on each dewy leaf the fire-fly revels With his pale sapphire-lamp. (Enter Bramin42.) Leel: Holy father! Thou know’st what I do seek? Bram: I do, my daughter! Approach not yonder temple, seat ye there. Methinks the hour’s propitious—the Moon reposes In her fifth starry mansion— (Enters the temple.) Sher: Why art thou silent, Leela? Leel: ’Tis a dread thing— O, seat thee by me. The earth trembles, God! It thunders! Fie, the heavens are smiling brightly; Sher: There is a voice of music in the air, And the firm-seated earth doth gaily wear Her festive robe, wove of pale moon-light— God! Leel: Didst hear that dismal shriek? Sher: I hear the nightingale— From yon far grove trilling her honied throat, Freighting the breeze with richest melody, Like to a princely merchant— God! Leel: See’st thou no shadowy forms upon the air? Sher: I see afar the proud, imperial city Rising in shadowy grandeur—

42 Brahmin.

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Leel:

Mercy, (Prostrating herself) Mercy, O dread Destroyer! frown not on me! Sher: (aside) There is no God but God, Mahomed is The Prophet of God!—(aloud) Arise, my sweetest Leela! ’Tis phantasy, thou dream’st— Leel: Mercy, O mercy, Blast me not with the lightning of thine eyes! Sher: Arise, thou foolish maiden! Leel: Mercy, O terror-clad!— Bram: (Rushing out of the temple) ’Tis horrible, O fly, Daughters of clay! Leel: (Rising) What say’st thou? Bram: Fly, O fly, Seek not to know the fearful mystery. Alas! My daughter! (Descends into the stream.) O thou holy stream! Clothe me with liquid robe of purity! Fly, Oye earth-born! fly— Alas! for thee, My daughter! (Disappears.) Sher: Come, follow me. Thou trembl’st and art pale, Poor Leela! Leel: (Wildly) I have seen the terror-clad! Sher: ’Tis phantasy. But come. (Leads her out.) Bram: (Reappearing) Go—thou art doom’d! And she too, whom thou lov’st.

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O, thou art merciful, eternal God! And ’tis thy love doth veil the future from! Thy sweetest boon, this life, would be a curse, A desolation, a calamity, Didst thou not clasp the gloomy-chapter’d volume! (Exit) Scene VI (Delhi—A Dargah and Mosque.)

PEER43 Peer: (Playing on his tamboura and chanting) It is sweet midnight’s stilly, silent hour— How beautiful and calm! Awake, my soul, Walk forth e’en as a guest unto a feast, And glorify the Giver! This vast city Sleeps so weary … (A gong strikes.) Wake, my brother! To prayer, to prayer! (A Muezzin enters & ascends a minaret.) The night o’the silent grave —Season of rest, approacheth, wake to prayer! Send forth thy voice to wake the slumbering … That sleep doth clasp now to her woo’d embrace. Muez: (From above) God is the greatest—hear, glorious heavens! God is the greatest—our mother Earth! God is greatest—hear, thou Universe! Verily—there is no God but God! Verily—there is no God but God! Verily—Mahomed is God’s Prophet— 43 Pir, a Muslim saint.

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Yea, verily the Prophet of our God! Awake to prayer, awake to prayer, arise! Salvation cometh, slumber not, arise! Salvation cometh, slumber not, for Pray’r Is greater than the … couch of sleep! (Descends) Peer: A sinner kneeleth him before the portal O’thy temple, Ever-lasting! Rain thy mercy, … warn his leprous soul, for thou art good. (They both go in. Enter Kabirc.) Kab: How sweetly did that voice rise in the air, So solemn, and so musical, so sad! Methought it was a spirit from on high, Come to rebuke the world for sinful sloth, Forgetfulness of Him who never slumbers, But as a loving father by the … Of helpless infamy, awakes and watches Lest harm should come on stealthy steps. How I do long to tread once more the beach— The peopl’d and pebbly beach, from which the vessel Upon whose deck I stand, now … her flight With out-spread wings and sea-ward! ’Tis a sin (Which the recording angel shuddering writes With blackest ink upon his memory’s page) To work them harm who never injure thee. She has been aye to me a gracious mistress But go, Repentance! thou dost come too late; And when thou com’st too late, thou com’st to mock Like a malevolent demon Coward folly Hath lost occasion to controul. (Enter Several Turkish Chiefs and Slaves) Well met, Brave lords from the far land, the … Laves with his crystal waters! Ye are welcome.

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T.C.: Where is the fleshless ghoul who by yon grave Sits night and day, feasting his hellish nose As with a rich repast? T.C.: O hush, thou Kafir! am T.C.: I no Kafir, brother! Tho’ I love The sparkling Sheraz! O, for one more goblet Blushing as crimson’d cheeks of a fair houri On a soft bed o’roses on thy bank, My beautiful-flowering …! Battling family (Sweet traitor) when love lays the hotter siege! T.C.: O hush! T.C.: Bring me another goblet …! I loathe this spot, here ghouls alone shd. dwell, And dance and feast with a damned crew of Afrits! Kab: (aside) Ye have not slept my friends, nor wak’d to ’fast! …, my noble lords! (Reenter Peer & Muez:) Peer: What seek ye, nobles! Come ye to pray, O enter and thy Prophet— T.C.: Thou art the King of ghouls, thou fleshless sprite! Kab: My holy father! Thou must enter with us, For we do need thee,— Why dost thou stare at me? T.C.: Kab: (whispering to Peer) O mind him not, but enter with us, father! (Looks at the slaves—they draw their swords and surround the Muezzin) This visit is unseasonable Forgive this wild intrusion, Dervise.44 Peer: I know not what ye seek, my noble lords, Nor why ye come like to mad …, Frighting the dove. Like … spirit of … flesh That broodeth over … sanctuary. T.C.: Silence, thou ghoul! or the Prophet[—] 44 Dervish, which may explain why the Turkish Chief ridicules him.

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Kab:

Hush, Come, lead the way and we will follow— Thou man of God! (Peer, Kabirc and the Turkish Chiefs go in.) Muez: What meaneth this? Slave: Thou art hoarse, friend! An thou croakest with that cracked throat o’thine from yond’ Minaret, the faithful will swear thou com’st from Eblis to mock and delude! Muez: What meaneth this, friend! Sl: Ah! thou mendest thy voice, ’tis weak for thee, for look you, your mechanic with blunted tools, starveth and no one pitieth him! Muez: But what meaneth this? Sl: Go to—Thou art a very woman. Look at this beard, ’tis blue! (A noise as of unsheathing & of sheathing swords within) Muez: O Alla! Sl: Fear not, ’tis not the crowing o’the cock, he sleepeth him [holily] in his harem: thy [sic] Muezzin ’tis no time for thee to fly up to thy aery nest and crow. Sleep is sweeter than prayer, say I. Muez: O Alla! Will they murder him? Sl: (Mimicking) O Alla! Will they murder him! Will they bathe their hands in the blood of a pig? Fie, thou cock o’the minaret, thou raven that croakest to startle honest men from soul-soothing sleep! O, I hate thee. Thy unwelcome, unearthly yellings pale the blush of joy on the brow of love like the dreaded voice o’ jealousy! They hiest the Song of sacrament. Muez: Thou speak’st like a son o’Eblis! Sl: Beshrew thy leprous tongue! (Reenter Peer, Kabirc and T.C.) T.C.: And call’st thou her a woman,45 [1st T.C.: And call’st thou her a woman? By the Prophet! A fury, loose from hell, and nurst in wrath! 45 Possibly a cue: a blank half-page follows, suggesting that Dutt may have intended to insert this brief passage from Scene V in the PT, which I have excerpted in square brackets.

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Kab: What—doth thy heart then faint? 1st T.C.: My valiant friend! This heart would scorn to faint, and false the tongue Which dares— 2nd T.C.: My Noble peers! brave gentlemen? Hear me—let the Lord Kabirc once again Assure us of his honour— Kab: Yes—I do— Fair, wide Jaghires46—and tow’r-crown’d castles high— And all the brightest honours Royalty Hath in her glittering store— 1st T.C.: But you forget— cull Freedom to fair flow’rs from every bow’r, To gem—enstar our Harems— Kab: Yes—you have. 1st T.C.: Here, by the Prophet! here’s my sheathless blade— 2ndT.C.: 1st T.C.: Beware—this is no place— go— Then let us Why tarry we? (Exeunt Turkish Chiefs) Kab: The scoundrels!—They would plunder The temples of their God for filthy lucre, And rob the Prophet’s own bright Paradise Of houris, if they could—the scurvy caitiffs! But now to poor Prince Byram! …] O good my father, the Prince Byram longeth For thy sweet converse, go thou to his prison, And marvel not that these go with thee, Dervise! It is to escort thee and this thy friend. (Pointing to the Muez:) Thou know’st the soldiery that crowds the city, Are wild and know no reverence. (Exeunt Peer, Muez: & Slaves.) 46 Jagirs, estates.

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’Tis well thought on. This holy man might work us mischief. Yes, With Byram he must dwell, till Rizia Is far beyond the reach o’his tell-tale tongue. (Trumpets from various parts of the suburbs.) Ay, welcome in the morrow and awake her, Who ne’er again shall sleep—O gracious Alla! How like a shaft invisible, it pierces This guilty heart! I must away— (Exit) Scene VII (Delhi—a chamber in the imperial palace.)

RIZIA, JAMMAL. Riz: Go—rest thee, sweet Jammal! Methinks, I see Sleep like a porter (when ’tis late at night) Eager to close the portals of thy eyes. (Exit Jammal.) He comes thro’ Ajmeer, bellowing like a wild, A fiery-eyed, earth-spurring Buffalo, When madden’d by the spear-wound—let him come. Our hearts like precious gems are casketed, And sweet Desire doth owe [sic: own] the golden key. (Sees Sherin and Leela sleeping on a carpet.) How sweetly do they sleep like twin-born flow’rs! Awake, fair maidens! Unhand me, villain! Leela: (Starting up) Blast me not with the terror of those eyes! Riz: Thou ravest, maiden! Leel: O my gracious Empress! I had a hideous dream— Riz: Ah! So had I:

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But mine, sweet Leela! was a waking dream! Would that I could like thee awake to smile, Because it was a dream, an aëry nothing, The idle mimicry of idle Fancy! Leel: Why look’st thou pale, dear lady! I’ve not slept— Riz: I could not sleep: the wakeful mariner, When Night comes storm-carr’d on the boundless deep, Is happier, Leela! (Trumpets sound.) Ha! ’tis morn, awake— (Sherin rises) O when again, proud palace of my fathers! Will sleep rock me to slumber neath this roof, Driving away a while, all care-born thought, Dreams of ambition, that disease the mind!— (Opens a window.) Look, Leela! How many thousands o’er this boundless region, Do bend their knees to thee, thou glorious Sun! And ’tis no wonder—(Pauses.) O imperial Delhi! My beautiful city—over which the light, The rosy light of dawn is creeping now Like a sweet blush of joy which the glad heart Strives but in vain to hide within its depths— O thou my beautiful city! Fare thee well! (Trumpets sound) be if O fare thee well, and it for ever, Look at the ornaments that deck thee, And think of her who as a loving mother Decks for the bridal altar her fair daughter, Rob’d thee with beauty! Now, my gentle maidens,

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Prepare ye for the march, the hour is nigh. (Exit.) Scene VIII (Delhi—watch-tower of the Southern gate of the city)

MUST and MEHDEE. Must: What are we, sweet Mehdee? Mehd: What are we? Must: Go to—sorrow hath dull’d thy brain, Peri! Are we not a pair o’ vultures perch’d on a skyey tree to— Mehd: O, fie! There they go— Must: By the beard o’ the Prophet! ’Tis a glorious sight! There go the royal elephants like dark and ponderous clouds gathering round the lightning banner of the Storm-demon, what time his trumpeter, thunder, bellows him so madly! Mehd: O, look at those caparison’d steeds, how proudly they tread the earth! Must: Your elephant is the noblest animal, Peri, that walketh him on four legs!—Your horse is beautiful—Symmetry herself chiseleth his limbs, his arched neck, his broad chest; the speed o’the whirl-wind shoeth it: Your gazelle is beautiful—it is woman-eyed and soft: but give me the noble elephant— Mehd: Wherefore, Must! Must: O, it loveth—drink! It knoweth how sweet the milk o’the palm is!— (Drinks from a bottle) Mehd: O, shame! ’Tis the hellish wickedness of man, that; not content with sowing choking tares in the fair field of humanity, corrupteth even the scanty growth of the frute-soil! But look, yonder is the Empress on her war-steed: methinks, ’tis the Sûltana o’the Jens [Jinns], the fair Queen o’Sheba, that Soliman lov’d.—O, there they go—yond’ is her

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palanquin! God’s benizon on thee, sweetest maiden! O, when shall I see thee again! (Weeps) Must: Weep not, my Mehdee! ’Tis a sweet woman is the lady Leela! They go to the wars—O, ’tis a noble pastime! But come away. (Leads her out.) (Munher loquitur:-) How lone, how solitary is to me This vast, this many-peopl’d city! I Do wander like a being of another, A far, an alien world; I have no eye For all the wonders which are spread around me, No ear for all the music breathing round me! This is the curse of love! When torn away From those we love, life is a cruel burthen! Yet who wd. lose that life when there is hope Of meeting once again? Then comes thy voice Like a sweet angel’s, Hope! To soothe the sufferer! O, why art thou not ever with me, Leela? Would I could temple thee within this bosom, Could casket thee as they do precious gems! (Reenter Must.) Must: Thou hast gladden’d this heart, by Alla! Blessings on thy shaggy head! May thy claws soon learn to tear thy enemies— Munh: What mean’st thou? Must: Thou art a mere whelp, and thy claws do but scratch now. Look at thy chin, ’tis a treeless, a shrubless, a herbless desart, there is not a single blacken’d palm! But live. An thou grow not up the shaggiest line [sic: lion] that ever roar’d, I am a pagan! Munh: What art thou? Must: I am a Moslem! Munh: Doth not thy Prophet forbid— Must: Hush! speak with reverence. (Enter Mehdee) Mehdee?

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Mehd: Come I like a terrible spirit that thou start’st? Must: Thou com’st to me like an angel, by Alla! Mehd: The lady Leela, my most valiant Raja! (Enter Leela.) Munh: O sweet my love! Leel: Approach me not, dear Munher! I come to crave thy secret ear awhile— Munh: I live but to obey— (They retire.) Mehd: Here is a purse of bright gold, the lady Leela gave it me— Must: To lay it at the feet o’the cudgel-bearing Must, Mehdee! (Reenter Munher and Leela, come forward.) Munh: I do regret me, sweet! I cannot go. Leel: Farewell! Do not forget the Priest, dear love! Munh: Farewell, and God be with thee, gentle Leela! (Exeunt Munher and Leela. As they go out in different directions, Leela looks back.) Duty doth chain me to yon royal prison. (Points to the palace) Must: (Looking at Leela) Thou art a Turk, by Alla! Thou feign’st flight and shoot’st thy keen arrows! Give me the gold and I shall tell thee a merry tale of a fierce hawk and a gentle dove— Mehd: Give thee the gold, thou prodigal! Nay— (She runs out, he follows. Reenter Leela with Sherin [sic?]) [Scene IX]47 (A Prison)

PRINCE BYRAM and BALIN Byr: Would he were come! Bal: Nay patience, gentle Lord! Byr: Why talk to me of Patience? I am mad— 47 The second Byram scene in the PT (Scene VI) should logically come here. It has no equivalent in the MS. However, since the MS skips any Act II Scene IV, the Act II scenes can be sequenced serially, ending with this one as II.viii.

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Yes—mad with hope and fear! Last night, dear Balin I had a dream—a wondrous dream it was— Methought I sat upon my father’s throne, But hark! I hear a sound— (Looks out of the window) O glorious vision! The warrior pomp and pride of Majesty.— Look there, dear Balin! O what lofty steeds— And sun-bright armour! Will they e’er be mine? A countless multitude with streaming banners, And glittering spears— (Suddenly closes the window) No—Never—Ne’er again, I’ll gaze upon that face, tho’ from the mould Of Beauty, fashion’d in her gayest mood! For thine the heart in which the voice of Love Ne’er finds the faintest echo—O my God! What long—long years within this living grave Flung by a sister’s doom—a sister’s? Go The death-worm soon will pale the brighter rose Which blushes in thy cheek— Bal: (aside) Ah! he hath seen His royal sister midst yon cavalcade, (aloud) But tell me, gentle Lord! thy wondrous dream— Byr:. Our dreams are oft the longings of our hearts, Shap’d in sweet beings of beauty—and they steal The eloquence of Hope—the melody Of Love—but to deceive— (Enter Kabirc) Thrice welcome Kabirc! Be Kab: thine the laurel-wreath of Victory— O! emperor of proud Inde—

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Byr:

Ha! say’st thou so? (He embraces him) Let me embrace thee, for upon thy brow I read unutter’d tales of hope and joy! Kab: Look yonder, Prince! that blaze of nameless pomp Is like the golden smile, the last which lights The paling lips o’the faint—expiring Day! Yes—she is doom’d— Bal: But, tell us Kabirc! how? Kab: The Turkish chiefs are ours—and she must go —E’en as a sacrifice—to quiet the chief Of green [Sind], and then the empire’s thine! Bal: But then Altunia—doth he not aim— Kab: Not he—poor fool! Pardon me, Royal Liege! And should the freedom of my tongue offend— Byr: Nay—speak as doth thee list, my noble friend! Kab: He sighs not for this empire—but the smiles Of yon proud ladye—and when once he finds This bird of beauty in his castle cag’d, No more again on wings of high ambition Will she then soar— Bal: Alas! ye know her not— Her wiles may work us woe— Kab: What can she do, Armless and friendless? Never fear her more. But I must join our friends—soon shalt thou hear Glad tidings, gracious Prince! so now farewell. (Exit Kabirc)

Byr: And may success be thine, my noble friend! Now Balin, go—bestir thee—see our friends And tell them all.— (Exit Balin) To-day a captive lone— To-morrow on the mightiest—proudest throne!

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Be silent, Hope! thy faery melody May rouse fell Disappointment from his sleep To silence thee, sweet bird! Oft, when in joy The lily-bosom’d dove doth trill his lay— Her silver voice, loud-echo’d thro’ the vale, Calls the fierce eagle on his wings of Death! Be silent, Hope! O Allah! I could weep— How is thy Providence mysterious—deep!

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Act III Scene I (Ajmeer, the the [sic] borders of the great desart, Altunia’s camp.)

TWO OFFICERS. 1 Offic: Ay, ’tis a gallant host; and by my soul I would not grieve if those vile plotters fail’d— Would’st thou? 2 Offic: I know not—but they will not fail. The Prophet’s curse on their dark-scheming heads! 1 Offic: Would’st place a rich repast before a man, A famish’d man, bidding him freely taste The season’d viands, and then— 2 Offic: Well and what then? 1 Offic: —When he doth sit him down with eager joy, With [hasty]-murmur’d thanks— Would’st take away thy proffer’d, welcome gift? 2 Offic: No—by the Prophet! It were a shame—a cruel mockery. 1 Offic: Then, Sir, I would that those vile plotters fail’d: For look around you, Those be the famish’d men; the rich repast, The war they hunger after; ’tis before them; It were a shame, a cruel mockery To bid them sheathe their swords— ’Tis better far 2 Offic: That the seal’d fountains of life’s purple currents Should not be burst— 1 Offic: O, there is glorious music I’the clash o’ [kissing] swords, as there is music I’ the soft rustle of sweet Beauty’s veil, And—

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The first page of Rizia Act III, dated

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2 Offic: I’ the unbaring o’the corky portals O’the high, ventless tow’r that doth enpalace The rose-lipp’d Sheraz— 1 Offic: By the holy Kaaba! Thou tonguest my inmost heart, most … friend! War, woman, wine—my valiant … frd.! 2 Offic: Do form thy mystic Triad, Wisest of Bramins thou! Melodious Hafiz Is then thy Veda: ’tis a need sublime! But thou must ... And like sad ... , War, thy dread destroyer, Must sigh him, ... and unalter’d, ... 1 Offic: Curse on the scheming cowards! 2 Offic: Fie, thou wrong’st them. 1 Offic: O, the joys of houried Paradise! Be thou their advocate,—behold, the Cazi,48 The grave and reverend judge! (Sits down.) Unseal the fountain of thy eloquence: He giveth thee a patient hearing—speak! 2 Offic: O thou sublime and venerable Cazi, That like a trumpet-tongu’d, loud-vaunting cock Crow’st of that justice by thy sworded mate, But in thy softer hours dost gayly steal To the embrace of her sweet, gracious rival, Fair Brib’ry,—deign to hear me, learned judge! 1 Offic: Thou’rt permitted, speak— 2 Offic: O, hush!— (Altunia passes followed by a slave-boy) How like a stricken lion doth he wander, As if he sought him where to lay his head And die—poor lord! There is an awful … something That clothes the cloudied visage of his sorrow; 48 Kazi, an Islamic judge or interpreter of laws.

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As with a veil of royal dignity; Pity can only weep as the dumb do, When they look at some pale, and writhing sufferer! 1 Offic: (Rising) The Prophet’s malison upon the head That so could work thee woe, thou noblest heart! But come, Sir advocate!—The Reverend ear O’the Cazi like a … eavesdropper, longs For the expected colloquy. Begin— 2 Offic: I’m in no jesting mood— 1 Offic: Then tell thy tale With prelude groans, with episodes o’tears, Chorus’d by sighs— 2 Offic: The great, imperial army Hath been wean’d from the breasts that suckl’d it, And its wayward, babyish humour kicks The nurse it lov’d so late— 1 Offic: Beshrew the ingrate! 2 Offic: And ’tis determined Rizia shd. be sent A Prisoner to our Tatta; and Prince Byram Proclaim’d the Emperor of boundless Inde— 1 Offic: Then why this war-like preparation, why— 2 Offic: O, sir, be patient— They dare not seize her in her capital, There—she sits castl’d in her people’s love! [in margin: and garison’d by sleepless gratitude!] When she doth leave the city with the army, (For tho’a woman, she nor fears nor shrinks To shake the gauntlet-hand of of [sic] steel-clad war) When she doth leave the haven shelters her, Amidst the solitude o’the shoreless mains, The fellows will o’erwhelm her lonely barque, Un… her shrieks— 1 Offic: By Alla! ’tis a shame— And could Altu—

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2 Offic:

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(Altunia comes forward) O hush, he comes.— (They go out)

Alt: Come hither, boy! (Slave-boy comes forward) Thou com’st from far [Caucassia]? Boy: Yea—my lord! Alt: It is a beautiful land— Boy: O good my lord!— (Bursts into tears) Alt: Why weep’st thou, child? Boy: It is my father-land! There in a lonely cot, illustrious noble, Aye haunted by the spirit-like melody Of a leaf-hidden rill, my mother dwelt And I and my two sisters nestl’d us Upon her bosom!— Alt: Where are they—thy sisters? Boy: Gone to a far, far land, they call it Roum. Were I as thou and … a beautiful sword Like thine, I’d kill them all. Kill whom, poor child? Alt: Boy: The stern and bearded men that they call merchants. Alt: (aside) ’Tis we, great Alla! that do train those [wretches], As hunters train fierce leopards, … them To cruel deeds of blood! (aloud) They tell me, boy! That thou dost sing most sweetly. O my lord! Boy: It was my sister taught us many a lay, And I do love her songs—I know not why,— Alt: Go, fetch thee thy sitar. (Exit boy) They are the relics

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Of bygone happiness, and ’tis no wonder, That he shd. love them. Memory, the witch, Is the devoutest relic-worshipper! The eloquence of old—dead argument, Of fierce impatient flames, that as they preach, Dart forth their [forty] tongues, as if they long’st To lick the blood o’the harden’d heretic, Doubt-… and brief logic of the sword, May wean her not from her idolatry. (Reenter boy.) Boy: Behold my sweet sitar, most valiant lord! And this that was the image of my … sister. (Shows a faded rose) Alt: It is a faded rose, my gentle boy! Why call’st thou it thy sister? Boy: Gracious noble! (He kisses the rose) When, in my own far land, I kissed my sister, She smelt as sweet; the bud upon her brow Was beautiful as that of this dear flow’r. When first I pluckt it ... O, I do [grasp] it to my [body] I love it, ’tis my sister!— Alt: Prithee, peace. Sing one o’thy songs—boy! To hear is to obey— Boy: ’Tis then they tell me I must … (Sets down and …) Hast seen a cypress grove? Alt: I’ve dreamt of it. Boy: O, there are a thousand in my fatherland! Oft with my sister I did wander in them. When thou dost walk thee in the Sun, my lord, See’st aught behind thee?

Rizia

Alt: I do see my shadow. Boy: Why doth it follow thee? Why doth it, Boy? Alt: Boy: Because it loveth thee, it is thy lover. ...49 Boy: Methought, he kiss’d her. Alt: Well— Boy: Sweet were the songs they sang together That he sang with my sister! ... they wept Embracing; I did worship and then cry. Wilt hear a song that he did weep & sing, When last they met? Alt: Sing it, my gentle boy! Boy: (Playing & singing) I know that there &tc Alt: Away! (The boy retires at a distance) ’Tis here, great God! (Puts his hand on his heart) Doth like a fell, a ruthless enemy, It doth besiege the citadel o’the soul, Winging in ceaseless flight o’poison’d barbs! (Pauses) Yea Rizia!—Thou wast sweet, O how sweet! … thou wert pure, ay—[fairer far.] [Than] is the snow upon the mountain’s brow, [Than] is the … on its lofty throne, Than is the dream of love when first it springs Like to a plant from Heav’n, within the heart! But thou art fall’n, exil’d from Paradise— From the sweet Eden of sweet Innocence, Wherein the Maker houseth gentle woman! O, that I could forget thee!— 49 Next half-page torn beyond repair.

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Come hither, boy! Dost tremble? (Boy approaches) Boy: Yea—my lord! Why did’st thou look so fiercely at me? Alt: O, ’twas nothing. Boy: O Alla! Your eagle that … itself i’ the cloud-veil’d peaks of Caucasus, looketh not so fierce when the shepherd snatcheth away from his bloody talons the struggling & piteously bleating lamb!— Alt: Go—let my confectioner reward thee, see that he doeth it liberally— my gentle boy! Boy: Salaam, my lord! (Exit) …! [Alt:] Fie, Thou dost make me idle; thou Dost dull all action to faint listlessness, Robbing it of its fangs, ’tis hard to rouse it, Make it expand its glossy hood, erect Its column’d length and hissing deadly war, Dart … fated foe! (Enter an officer) What news—brave Sirdar50! Offic: A messenger, my lord, with hottest haste Comes from the imperial city— O, by Alla! Alt: Thou com’st as … of the coffin’d soul With gracious … from the … throne! Away to the Durbar tent. (Exeunt)

50 British spelling of Sardar.

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Scene II (Delhi—A Burial-ground at short distance from the Eastern gate of the city.)

JOWAN, MASAL. Jow: By my troth, I’m in no merry mood, Masal! Dame Fancy sitteth her like a beggar at the gate o’ the city o’ my soul, and telleth a thousand piteous tales.— Mas: Thou let Warder R … his clamorous tongue. Your beggar that sitteth him at the gate o’a city, is aye an imposter—’tis a spider that weaveth a wordy web for the flies that be i’ the purse o’ the unwary passer-by. Jow: ’Tis true.—But, methinks, ’twas an evil hour when the Empress—God shield her—left the city. Your tortoise is safe an it sit castled within its impregnable citadel! But away sad thoughts!—Where is Must? (Enter Must) Must: Your slave basketh him i’the sun-shine o’the Presence, my Emperor! Jow: Ah, thou merry rogue, where is the fair Mehdee? Must: By the Prophet, she sitteth her like a patient angler with his baited hook near yond’ gate. Ah!—this (looking around) is the whirl-pool that swalloweth up the barque o’humanity! This the kitchen wherein your maggot dresseth him his pillaw and his kebaub51 to feast upon! Hark ye, friends! When this vile world rendereth itself unworthy to own this poor soul, and ye … this poor body for the voracious maggot, forget not the [bulk?] o’the palm, Jow: What meanest thou? Must: Cellar me some i’ the coffin. Jow: Wherefore, Must? Must: To melt the obdurate hearts o’the two rogues (God forgive me) that come prying into every frame! An I could persuade them to drink, all would be well; for look you, my masters, your good liquor is a sovran balm; it refresheth sweet hearts … even when frustrated by the … o’

51 Pilaf or pulao, and kebab.

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this dreary world! A cup o’ liquor, seasonably offered, may purchase an eternity o’ Paradise— Jow: O, hush, ’tis rank blasphemy, by Alla! Must: I’m a son o’Islam, & by the sword o’Ali, he lieth him in his throat that sayeth I blaspheme— Jow: Art mad, Must? Mas: Silence, my brother ghouls! They come. (Enter Mehdee leading in Lafzun) Bestow yourselves behind yond’ tombs. Thou art no blasphemer, Must! Thou art the holiest saint i’the calendar o’Eblis! Away— (They conceal themselves) Lafz: O Alla!—’tis a dismal scene—so dark, so cold, so silent,—so lonesome! Mehd: Come, seat thee, my sweet Roustum! O, thou lov’st me not! Thou art cold. (They sit down) [Lafz:] (aside) Beshrew the bold troll! Mehd: I’m a [sic] unhappy woman—thou despiseth me! (sobs) Lafz: Nay—thou wrong’st me! Mehd: Why then art thou silent? Where is the heart-stealing music o’thy tongue? Am I not thy Tuhmeeneh, thy Peri, thy Rose? (sobs) Lafz: Yea—by Alla! But ’tis no place for the gay dalliance o’love. Mehd: O, thou lov’st me not. True love knoweth no Paradise, but when she he [doateth] upon is ... thee a dungeon would be a palace to me: This lonely and dark Place o’ Tombs, is as a garden o’roses to me, for—thou art here (sobs) Lafz: O Alla! Look there— (Points to a tomb) Mehd: ’Tis a tomb, my Rustum—art afeard? Lafz: Afeard? Nay—O Alla! Hark, Mehd: ’Tis the wind, Lafz: (aside) How like the wail of a suffering spirit! (aloud) Come, draw thou nearer. Mehd: O thou lov’st me not! A warrior’s love, thou said’st, knew no patience. Wherefore art thou so cold?

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Lafz: (Faintly) Unveil thee, Peri! (Approaches her) Mehd: Nay—thou lov’st me not. Thou challeng’st love to combat coldly, heralding by thy looks that denial would be more welcome than compliance—O, thou lov’st me not! Lafz: O Alla! Hark, Mehd: ’Tis night’s watchman, the owl. Lafz: (aside) How like a damned spirit’s shrieks o’agony! Mehd: (aside) What a soulless coward! (aloud) An I unveil me, thou would’st despise me—alas! I’ve no beauty! Lafz: Unveil thee, Peri! Mehd: Behold!— (She unveils herself and shows a hideously masked face, Masal burns a … light.) Lafz: (Falls down) O Alla!—a hideous she-ghoul! (The men come forward and blind-fold him.) Must: Tear the accursed mortal to pieces—O, I long to banquet me on his blood-gravied limbs! Lafz: There is no God but God and Mahomet is his Prophet!— Mas: Wag not thy leprous tongue. Thou art i’the Presence o’the Sûltan o’ the ghouls! Jow: How now, my merry brethren, whom have we here?— Mas: ’Tis a fine, sumptuous son o’clay, an’t please Your Majesty, that came to … with our mysteries— Lafz: Mercy, holy Majesty! ’Twas a she-ghoul tempted me hither! Jow: Why did’st follow her, accursed mortal? Lafz: Mercy, holy Emperor! Methought ’twas a daughter o’Earth— Jow: Reward the man, whose heart burneth with the worldly fire o’Lust, my brethren! (They beat him) Lafz: O!—mercy, dread Sovereign! Jow: Hark thee, vile and sinful son o’clay! Lust and Vanity are as a yoke o’bullocks, the body as a cart, and the soul the rider: an thou give them the reins, thou driv’st to shame, to suffering, to infamy, which

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be the stages to the goal o’the journey—Hell! Go thy way, and on thy hand & knee, thank God that thou escap’st the sharp sword o’ Justice. Hark, brethren, ’tis our minstrel, the owl—Come, he biddeth us to the banquet. (They tie Lafzun to a tomb.) Must: (aside) Did’st lust after my sweet Mehdee, thou lecherous dog! (Beats him) Lafz: O!— Jow: Forbear and away— (They go out) Lafz: O Prophet! I’m a sinner, plead thou for me. O! (Groans) Curse the enchantress! Yet, why? ’Twas my own vanity, my … myself. O! (Groans) An I escape this time, I shall none o’women! (Reenter Jowan and Masal with a light) Jow: Who art thou that groan’st so dismally? What—Lafzun, the Rustum o’Inde! Lafz: Mas: (aside) I am a O poor theshepherd’s lying rogue! sonHe o’Caubool52, said he was my thelord! son o’a Persian lord! Jow: (to Masal) ’Tis the curse o’the Service in this poor land: every beggar’s brat that knoweth him his alphabet—his alif53, … is the son o’a Persian lord, or a Caubool ameer54: he, whose father weareth himself out by mending the worn out soles o’men’s boots at home, is here a Mirza55 in disguise! O, I know me several, whom the capricious Fortune hath holpen to mount the ladder. Lord! An they were the whelps o’ your truest imperial lions, they could not be prouder! The Prophet’s curse on the dung-hill-born caitiffs that ape the manners o’the great, yea— bedight themselves, the carrion-crows that they are—with the starry plumes o’the royal pea-cock! But come, let us look to this wretch. (They unbind him) Lafz: O, slay me not! 52 53 54 55

Kabul. aleph. amir or emir. Persian and Indian Muslim honorific for prince, noble, commander or even scholar.

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Jow: Thou art bewitched, thou fool. I am Jowan and this here Masal, the lamp-lighter. Lafz: O dear Jowan, save me. Jow: Baugh! Thou art bewitched: Come,—follow! (They lead him out.) Scene III56 (Delhi—The imperial Camp on the banks of the Jumna. Six days’march from the City.)

RIZIA (alone in the royal pavilion) Riz: It can not be that such a mighty host, And multitudinous as ocean’s waves, Fie’tis an idle fear, a darkening dream Born o’er the soul by foolish Phantasy: How oft the night-wind, in its wanton play Hangs such a cloud i’ the path o’ the lady moon, Veiling awhile her glorious majesty! (Walks up and down.) How lonely!—And dost thou, O Solitude! Thus haunt me here? Thou art a blighting curse, Some fly to thee, for they do fondly dream Thou hast the gentlest balm o’sympathy, To heal the aching heart, to still its storm; Some call thee fruitful mother, tranquil nurse Of thoughts or calm, or deep, or eagle-wing’d. But to the great thou com’st e’en as the wrath, The silent wrath of some offended God! Thou seal’st all tongues for them; and mak’st their glory —As beacon-fire on danger-circl’d [sic: circled] rock 56 Rizia’s soliloquy also opened Scene VII in the PT, but the rest of that scene, in which the Turkish Chiefs show her Jammal’s severed head, does not appear in the MS. Dutt probably wanted to use that portion in Act IV, where I have relocated it. More evidence of his revision of the PT exists in the MS, where he had written but then struck out lines 2 and 6 from the PT soliloquy.

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To warn the wingëd barque—appal away Life’s sweet, sweet social joys,— Methinks, the proud and royal lioness Oft in her loneliest mood doth sadly sigh For the calm lot o’the lowlier gazelle! (Shouts heard from different parts of the camp.) What mean these strange, tumultuous shouts? (Shouts) Great God— They bode no good! O, hush, thou fluttering heart! (Exit) [(Enter Jammal.)57 Riz: Thou’rt welcome, Jammal! I did long for thee. And yet—’tis strange, walks (a pause) It almost vexes me—be not offended— That thou should’st at this moment come, o’er-leaping The wall that jealous royalty rears ’round me— As round a tree that is forbid to feed With its green, delicate leaves, its honey-fruit, The lamb that eyes them longingly, and bleats, The lowing cattle that with ruder accents, Petition for them: Yet, I long’d for thee! (Walks up and down) art Why thou silent, Jammal! Gracious lady! Jam: Methinks, thou’rt in a strange mood. Riz: Thou say’st true. I long’d for thee, and yet it vexes me That thou should’st come.—Hast ever seen a lotus, 57 This duologue occurs in Act III Scene XI of the MS, in the midst of the three rebel Nobles talking to Rizia, where it obviously does not belong, since Jammal dies beforehand, in III.v. The reason for Dutt writing it on those pages remains unclear. There does not seem to be a more appropriate location for these lines than here.

Rizia

With night’s star-canopy unroll’d above her? Jam: Yea—sweetest lady! Well—how looks she then? Riz: Jam: The temple of her beauty is then clos’d, Green-wall’d around— Riz: Ah, then her perfume-soul in Sits its solitary chamber. Well, When Night’s star-canopy is folded, Jammal, And the Earth’s … young and glorious groom Comes forth to kiss his bride,— Jam: O, then, fair Sovereign! In maiden majesty—so dainty sweet— She giveth audience to th’ambassador-beams That come from their right royal lord, the Sun, To woo her for him,—to the morning-breeze. A humbler lover he, (kneels) as the poor slave, Thou see’st before thee, O thou fairer lotus, Thron’d on the stream of Royalty— Riz: (Raising him) Arise, My morning-breeze! Thy vows, so musical, Are not unheard. But to my parable: My heart was as the lotus, when ’tis night, Alone and brooding over unnam’d dreams, Ere that thou cam’st here: now— The … dawn, the dewy morn— Jam: (kneeling) O, for a seraph’s tongue, To give sweet utterance to this labouring soul! But ’tis heav’n-essenced, and its progeny, The golden fruits of fond love’s chaste embracements, (Heav’n-essenc’d be like her) are ever marr’d By their gross, earthly tongue, that midwives her!

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Riz: (Raising him) Arise, my gentle friend! (distant shouts) What means that tumult? Dost think the rebel—Ha? Why came that cloud Upon thy brow? Jam: I know not, gracious lady!] Scene IV (A distant part of the same.)

OFFICER, TRUMPETER. Trump: The whole camp is ... , most valiant Sirdar!— Offic: Aye—’tis the appointed hour. Summon the soldiers. (Trumpet sounds) There sounds the mort o’the stately, royal stag! (Enter soldiers) My valiant men, it is the soldiers [sic] creed To yield obedience unto the Pow’rs that be Unquestioning; a solemn sacrament, Doth bind us to it; and ’twere foul dishonour (Than which grim Death, in grimmest terrors clad, Is far more welcome to the warrior soul) To swerve from it. I bid ye follow me, To where I’m bade to lead ye; ’tis no matter Whether it be to do that which is right, Or wrong, or both; I say—it is no matter; Let them look to it, that are sit above us. Sold: We’re bound t’ obey thee, our most noble Sirdar! Offic: Follow me, soldiers! (They march out.)

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Scene V (Another part of the same.)

JAMMAL, SOLDIERS. 1 Sold: Yield thee, thou Abyssinian dog! (Attacks him.) Jam: (Defending himself) They all desert me. Thou art but a novice i’ the trade o’ War—There— (Wounds him) am 1 Sold: O, I slain! (Falls down and dies) 2 Sold: By the Prophet, thou shalt comrade him to the Land o’Shadows— (Attacks him) Jam: (Defending himself) Nay—I knew him not, thou didst: Go thou with him—Here is thy pass-port. (Wounds him) 2 Sold: O Alla! (Falls down & dies) 3 Sold: Thou wield’st thy blade right valiantly. By the Prophet, that art no common slave— (Attacks him) Jam: (Disarming him) Thou art a brave spahi, Take thy life;—I thirst not for thy blood! 4 Sold: We thirst for thine—thou hast slain our comrades, thou slave! Thou hast slain two soldiers o’the Empire, thou traitor! (Several soldiers attack him) Jam: Shield me, gracious Alla! (Defends himself) 3 Sold: Fie, comrades! By my manhood, ’tis a shame— (Jammall [sic] falls down mortally wounded) Alas! brave Jammal! Jam: Convey my farewell to the Empress, Soldier! The tears thou see’st—Dost mark me?

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3 Sold: Yea—my lord! Jam: I know not where thou stand’st. The tears thou see’st Are the last tribute of this parting soul, To her—to Rizia—to my queenly love. Tell her I wept to leave this world, because It is my Paradise, it shrineth her! I know no other— (Dies) 3 Sold: [F]arewell, noble heart! Thou wert no slave, School’d to interpret frowns, smiles, nods and becks, To taste the scourge and whine; start like a maiden At the lightning flash o’the sword unsheath’d in anger! (Enter Kabirc and Balin followed by several officers and soldiers) Kab: And is he gone, poor wretch? 3 Sold: O good my lord! He fought him like a lion— Bal: Silence! Speak when thou’rt bade to speak, art thou a soldier, And know’st no reverence for thy chiefs? away— (Soldier falls back) Look at those lips that like two joyous bees Drank from the golden chalice of the rose, The sweetest honey! Is the bed thou press’st This purple-linen’d bed, as downy soft, As an imperial couch, luxurious slave! (Kicks the body) Kab: (aside) When the dead elephant lies in a ditch They very frogs do kick it— Noble Kabirc! Bal: Methinks yon minion’s head wd. be a gift Meet for his shameless paramour— Kab: My lord! She is or was our Empress: to insult Fall’n greatness is the basest cowardice!

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I would not for the world be guilty of So foul a deed; Bal: Thou art too tender-hearted, For an arch-rebel, Kabirc! Would’st shed tears For yon vile dog— Kab: He was no dog, lord Balin! It was no dog that pluckt the golden fruit, For which a thousand nobles sigh’d in vain! (Trumpets sound) Bal: Proceed, thou eulogist, we follow thee. Hark to the call that chides this our delay. (Exeunt) Scene VI [NOBLE, OFFICERS.]

Noble: What means this tumult, soldiers! 1 Offic: Noble lord! Thou art my prisoner, I demand thy sword. Noble: What says my beardless Soohrab? 1 Offic: Noble lord! Yield me thy sword, thou art my prisoner. Noble: Yield thee my sword? At whose proud bidding, sir? 1 Offic: I’m bid to act my lord and not to parley. Give up thy sword— (Approaches him) Noble: O, by the soul o’Ali!— (Draws) an Thou diest thou approach me! 2 Offic: Forbear! [Noble:] (To the officer) Tempt not the toothless lion, brave Sirdar! When thy dead father was a squalling infant, I was a gallant soldier, Impudence!

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And fought by the side o’Altumush, glorious chief, God rest his soul! 2 Offic: We know thee, my noble lord! Who knows thee not—this Empire is a volume Rich with … blazon of of [sic] thy renown, And chapter’d with thy deed o’wondrous valour! But thou must yield thy sword— Am I a traitor? Noble: 2 Offic: When thou art in the Presence— Noble: Bear me thither— 2 Offic: Patience, my lord! The Emperor’s majesty, Noble: Ah, thou say’st true; she is an emperor, A man o’men, tho’ brightest o’Beauty’s daughters! 2 Offic: Thou dream’st of days, my lord! that are no more. The daughter of Altumush— Noble: Irreverent youth! 2 Offic: Is now a captive; and the princely Byram May glory hedge him round!—is Emperor O’Inde. Noble: Great God! Mysterious are thy ways! Here is my sword. (Officer takes it) Where is the gallows, friend? If thou art hangman, come and do thine office. I am a worn out robe, an oilless lamp, A palm sear’d by the lightning bolt of age, 2 Offic: Nay—gentle lord! Thou must t’imperial Delhi, Noble: I follow thee, my friend! (Exeunt)

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Scene VII (Another part of the same)

HERALD (followed by a drummer & soldiers) Hear, Oye chivalry o’boundless Inde! The usurper and the tyrant, Rizia, That, contrary to usage and tradition, The solemn Law o’Islam, did dishonour The throne o’the King o’Kings, high Emperor, Magnificent Altumush, renowned Lord, —God rest his soul!—is now a prisoner Shorn of stol’n majesty and pomp of power: Our rightful sovereign, illustrious Byram, Doth wear the crown of his proud ancestry! Come, taste his bounty— (throws handsful of money on every side.) ’Tis a prelude show’r— All: God save the Emperor Byram! (scrambling for the money) Herald: Ay, gather honey, O ye busy bees! Tho’the sweet tree as yet but blossometh; The season of luscious fruits is right at hand! (Exeunt) Scene VIII (The same)

MUNHER SING. M: Great God! I know not where she is—poor Leela! This camp is as the sea, when howling tempests Like madmen that have burst their prison bars,

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Do vex its waves: I know not where to find her— (Enter a slave) S: O, they have slain her! M: Slain her—whom? Thou fool! S: The Empress! O great Alla! (Exit) M:

’Tis most strange. It can not be—they dare not slay her—no! ’Tis fear that makes these cowards dream such dreams[.] Where art thou, sweetest Leela!—sweet my love! Perchance like a lone barque, rude buffeted By angry surges, thou strugglest, poor maiden! And cry’st—where art thou Munher! I perish!— By Heav’n I’ll seek thee till I faint and die! (Exit) Scene IX (The same—a distant tent)

SHERIN, LEELA. S: Mirth is a strange, fantastic visitant: E’en when sad grief doth bar the portals, Leela, And close the windows curtaining out sweet light, It comes, unseasonable guest! (She laughs) Forgive! My gentle sister, O, forgive this mirth! Leel: Why laugh’st thou, Sherin! O, how can’st thou smile? Sher: Thou cam’st to cheer my drooping heart, sweet angel! But, lo! thou trembl’st [sic: tremblest] like a lotus-stalk, When the rude current flows with onward haste! One sat him by the pillow a patient, The live-long night; when morning dawn’d, they found him,

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Dissolv’d in tears and dead! The patient liv’d. L: O, cease my gentle sister! Gracious God! (Shouts) How fearful! Where is he? O, shield him, lord! O, Sherin ’tis as if the Day of Doom The cycling end, is come to drown once more, With roaring waters, the poor, trembling world! (Shouts) Sher: O Alla! is the dread Day of thy Judgment Dawning upon the terror-stricken earth, That groans! (Shouts—they both fall on their knees) Leel: O save us thou, that on the lotus-leaf Didst float upon the surging waters of the dark, World-swallowing deluge,58 Sher: Gracious Alla! Whom Mousa on the cloud-encurtain’d top Of Horeb,59 worshipp’d, save us Thou— (Shouts) Both[:] How fearful! Scene X A SLAVE.

1 Slave: By the Lord! ’Tis a rich prize! (Examining several caskets of jewels) When this storm dies away, I shall purchase me a patent o’ Nobility, build [then] me a royal mansion, at Arabia people shall send me her fleetest steeds; Circasia & Cashmeer,60 their brightest-eyed maidens and Sheraz its choicest, most sparkling wines! This is my Aladin’s 58 In Hinduism, both Brahma and Vishnu are associated with the lotus on the waters of chaos. 59 Musa is the Arabic form of Moses, mentioned many times in the Quran, and Horeb usually identified with Mount Sinai. 60 Circassia and Kashmir, both fabled for their beautiful women.

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lamp! The imperial tent is as a deserted bee-hive, stored with the most luscious honey. Alla! If I were the largest ship that ever sail’d across the silver-sand desarts o’holy Arabia, with the speed o’El Bȏrak,61 I could not convey to the nearest port a hundreth part o’the jewels in six o’ the longest hours that e’er mock’d the impatience o’a lover! O, I hath your Order—’tis the miserly child o’that stern, and merciless monster—Law! Give me Anarchy—sweet, generous Anarchy, that curbeth not the steed o’ Enterprize, extracteth not the fangs o’ Ambition, starving it to listlessness; but—conferreth Rank, [W]ealth, Honour, its blooming daughters, on the bravest and the best, your noblemen coin’d in the mint o’gracious Nature, and not begotten by the minions o’Luxury in perfum’d chambers! (Exit) Scene XI62 (The same.—The Imperial Pavilion)

RIZIA, BALIN, KABIRC, TURKISH CHIEFS, nobles, slaves, soldiers &c. Bal: Thou art our captive, lady!— Must I kneel, Riz: And with clasped hands and streaming eyes entreat/beseech63 thee, For mercy, thou bold traitor! By my troth, Bal: I am no traitor, lady! Wert thou a man— Riz: I’d tear thy tongue and fling it at the dogs! Silence, audacious slave! (aside) By Alla’s throne! Kab: Dost tremble, valiant Balin? Well thou may’st. 61 Al Borak, the mythical horse that carried Muhammad to the seventh heaven. 62 A few lines in this scene echo some in the second half of Scene VII in the PT (see the scene after the next in this edition), where the Turkish Chiefs show Rizia the severed head of Jammal. See also my note to III.iii. 63 Dutt wrote both words but underlined “beseech”.

Rizia

It is no silly wench! Those flashing eyes, That pale, and soul-lit brow, that cypress shape So tall, so stately, so majestical, Would awe the lion! ay, the melody Of that so soft, so sweet, and yet proud voice, Would still a storm, as if an angel spake! Riz: My noble lords, and valiant gentlemen,— What means this lawless tumult, this o’erflowing Of the embankment, seemly order rears To curb the wave-like children of fierce War? What brings ye to the Presence thus unbid, Unusher’d by respect and reverence? (a pause) What—are ye silent, sirs? Speak— Royal lady! 1 Noble: will It is the sovran of the gracious Byram all Our mighty and glorious Emperor, —May God defend his throne! This piety Riz: Becomes thee well, most honourable lord, Proceed— 1 Noble: His most imperial majesty Doth will that thou his royal and loved sister, Should’st go to Tatta—the high capital Of the right loyal lord Altunia, Thy affianc’d husband,— (hesitates) Riz: O, Sir, proceed.— What saith my royal and right loving brother? 1 Noble: When the great Altumush, most renown’d lord, God’s and the Prophet’s peace upon his soul! Did fill the world with his dread majesty, Uprooting the poisonous tree of hell-born …, That wounded sore the bosom of the earth,

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Watering & tending Virtue’s gentle plant, Whose golden deed sweet perfume breathing flow’rs Bal: Be brief, my lord! 1 Noble: O, I cry you mercy, Most noble Balin! I’m impatient, Sir! Riz: 2 Noble: Most gracious lady! Thou know’st how ill it doth beseem thy sex, So soft, so beautiful,— Riz: O good my lord! Such sweet, and eloquence-perfumëd words, Are meeter for the bright festoonëd chamber Of gay festivity, or trysting bow’r. I pray you, cease. Ye have forgot, my lords, The reverence aye due to Majesty; Why not forget ye ’re courtiers—64 3 Noble: ’Tis most meet, Daughter of Alt’mush, that thy feebler sex, [Created for the comfort and the joy Of men in lighter hours, on earth the foretaste Of Paradise— Thou grey-hair’d Preacher, cease.]65 Riz: [3 Noble:] Should be, like sweetest roses hedg’d around Within the harem; for when eden’d there Ye bloom and fill the air with odorous breath, Unsoil’d by aught of the vile outer world! 64 This page of the MS ends here. Turning to the next page (verso) we read “Enter Jammal” at the top, followed by the duologue that I have moved to the end of III.iii (since Jammal died in III.v). After that conversation finishes on a recto page, Dutt has drawn a line under which he has written some alternative phrases and lines at the foot of the page, but their place of insertion is unclear. When we turn over, the Third Noble begins his exchange at the top of the verso, and his short line completes Rizia’s iambic pentameter perfectly. 65 Dutt rewrote these lines, beginning again with “’Tis most meet”, on a new page four blank pages after the end of the scene.

Rizia

And ’tis a Paradise wherein the tree Of the forbidden fruit, doth never grow. Long hast thou sham’d the chivalry of Inde, Daughter of Alt’mush[.] Riz: Sir, I pray you, silence! My noble lords and valiant gentlemen,— … stood ... upon a glorious hill Round him bright, many-mingled clouds did roll Like waves of incense: When he looked above, He saw the eternal crystal arch of heav’n, Hung o’er his solitary majesty— ’Twixt it and him the eagle dar’d not soar, Nor minstrel lark,—he stood … o’high! That man, Ladder’d by Fortune to that aery height, When he did cast his eyes on the abject earth, Saw thousands with piteous … and prayers Did seek to mount but dar[’]d not: he did help them, With look, with cheering word; or where they fall’d, He rais’d them with his hands: his sun-lit glory Fill’d them with golden light; and the world saw, And wonder’d as it saw, and envied them That tho’earth-born, and base, could so ascend! What think ye, nobles[,] did those men thus graced? They hurl’d him that did help them far below, To the dark ravines and the yawning depth, And as he fell, they shriek’d with frantic joy! What say ye, nobles!—Have ye warrior hearts, And sleep your blades within your scabbards thus? What—silent all? Bal: I pray you, royal lady! Riz: I do not deign to hear thee, Sir! Away— Bal: Then hear by the Prophet!—ye my noble peers, And loyal gentlemen, I crave ye all, Depart this tent. My fellow i’the command

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Of this most war-like host, the noble Kabirc, Together with myself will see the prisoner Entreated as becometh her high rank— (Exeunt nobles, officers &c.) Riz: It were a degradation and a shame To parley, Balin! with a wretch like thee! Thy presence is an insult. Fare thee well. What—my Lord Kabirc!—Thou a traitor—thou? God help thee, thou misguided, erring man! (Exit) Bal: Guard well this wide pavilion, she may fly. (Exeunt slaves.)

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[Act IV] (At a distance

Scene66 from the same—a mangoe-grove)

THREE SOLDIERS (standing by a new grave) 1 Sold: Thou hast paid the debt of gratitude nobly, brother! Those tears shame thee not, they unburthen a heart oppressed by manly sorrow. 2 Sold: He gave me my life, when I sought his like a demon, to whom murder is a pastime! O’the accursed curs thronged around him like famished & grim wolves! Call ye such soldiers? May’st thou wither this right hand, great God! if ever again I draw sword with the like of them! No—I should live and die for her whose name burthen’d the farewell sigh of his noble soul! (Trumpet) 3 Sold: Hark!— 2 Sold: Fare ye well, brethren! God prosper ye! O, forget not the companion of so many years! 1 Sold: By the Prophet, never! 2 Sold: Let silence seal your tongues. Should they seek the deserter—Hush, I hear footsteps. Adieu, comrades! 2 [sic] & 3 Sold: God prosper thee! (They go out. Enter Munher Sing and a Rajpoot soldier) Munher: Bear this message to my dear, and honoured parents, soldier! that I follow the deposed Empress, for I have season’d my meat with her salt. Honourable Poverty is dearer to me than wealth and rank bought at such a fare as yonder Camp, from which Perfidy and Falsehood alone return home laden with costly purchases.— Sold: As you command, my lord!

66 This unnumbered scene, the last in the MS, comes after four blank pages and a fifth containing the Third Noble’s rewritten speech and Rizia’s retort, which I have inserted in III.xi. I believe Dutt wished to start Act IV here.

The last scene in the manuscript of Rizia, conjecturally starting Act IV

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Munher: Tell them I go to Tatta. The Empire recknoneth [sic] me not among her chivalry; for, like a false and foul harlot, she hath this day, done a deed of shame! These accursed Moslems have no faith in them, no honour. They are brave & they fight excellent well;—but there the song of praise must cease! Loyalty and honour that are as it were, the ministers, the viziers of King Courage, they have not! O, I hate the cursed race! Go thou, soldier! And lay my filial love and reverence at their feet. I go to Tatta. Tell them I shall live and die for her—I have eaten her salt! (To himself) She loves her, my Leela loves her—the sweet creeper embraceth not with loving arms a rugged or thorny tree: the fair lotus bloometh not in a pool of impure water: can Leela love one that is not good and pure? I shall live and die for her. Fare thee well, brave soldier! Never again may these lips kiss the feet of the dear mother that bore me; O, lay my filial love at her sacred feet, soldier! Tell her I send it with tears, like a man that sends a vowed offering to a remote temple, to which fate suffers him not to go in person! Farewell thee well, honest soldier! Sold: May prosperity attend my lord! (Exit) Munh: Let me awhile rest in this lonely grove: The clouds are gathering fast, & the far thunder Sounds as the voice of wrath: the gentle breeze, That erst did sport him with the merry leaves, Is as a good man only angerëd, Whose wrath is temper’d with the [milky] mildness That’s native to his heart: the leafy … Heav’n-pointing, are wav’d most fantastically, Like flags on warrior-cars, when the lash’d steeds Bound onwards. Ah! it rains. The … drops Fall like bright pearls shower’d by the lavish hands67 67 The MS ends here, incomplete, even without punctuation. The next page has the crossed-out statement datelined Madras 1855 that I have placed at the end of this text. Dutt turned the whole volume upside down to write it as well as the matter on the inside back cover. On the other hand, he could have written those two pages first, then turned the MS round and started the play from the other cover.

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[Next Scene]68 Riz: How fearful!—Heavens! Like sound of mighty waters—mingling all! (Several Turkish Chiefs rush in with drawn swords) Ha! 1st T.C.: Yield thee— (Approaching to seize her) Riz: (Rising) Stand off—and dost thou dare— Several: We dare— Kab: (From behind) That’s right—be bold and seize her, friends! Riz: Summon my guard! All gone t’imperial Delhi, 1st T.C.: To revel in the coronation-feast O’thy brother Byram— Riz: Miscreant! thou lyest—call Jammal— 2nd T. C.: Here he is[!] (Throwing down the head of Jammal) Riz: O God!— (She starts then looks at it) What would ye, chiefs! How pale she looks! 3rd T.C.: When first we came, my heart felt rather faint To see her flashing eyes—her form erect Like to the stateliest palm—majestical, And her stern frown—now am I bold again— (aloud) Yield thee!— 2nd T. C.: Nay—hush! O fair and royal ladye! Thou must to green [Sind]—e’en as a pilgrim Of love, and there within his joyous bow’r Forget the thousand cares of sovereignty, And rule—the empress of a loving heart. 68 This is the rest of Scene VII in the PT, from where Dutt placed only Rizia’s opening soliloquy in III.iii.

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Riz: At whose proud bidding? 2nd T. C.: ’Tis the sovran will O’thy brother Byram—emperor of Inde— Riz: Silence—audacious slave! Know’st thou to whom Thou speakest? 2nd T. C.: Yes—I do—as to an oak, all When its summer-beauty’s faded—gone.— Anger us not, for look yonder, (Points to the head of Jammal) Thy wretched minion—thy only friend— Riz: (Faintly) Where would he send me, chiefs? 2nd T. C.: To green [Sind]. Riz: (aside) It is no loathsome dungeon—and Altunia Must serve my will— (aloud) I yield me—noble chiefs! But when[?] 2nd T. C.: Within an hour— Then leave me now[.] Riz: (She sits down) Kab: (as before) Guard well this wide pavilion—she may fly.69 2nd T. C.: No fear.— (Exeunt Turkish Chiefs &c.) Riz: And is this all? It is a dream— A hideous—hideous dream! wake, Rizia! wake— And let no idle dreams now daunt thy heart, Wake, empress of proud Inde! (She rises) Why should’st thou fear? Earth hath no glory brighter than thine own!— They talk’d of Byram—of my brother Byram— Poor Byram! I did love him—where is he? The tenant of an iron-mured dungeon! 69 Dutt gave this line to Balin at the end of III.xi.

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Fy! ’twas a baseless dream! (She turns round and sees the head of Jammal) O God! O God! And art thou there, mute witness of dread Truth! Then ’twas no dream? Canst thou not speak? An Empress— E’en when a mighty empress questions thee? O that this heart would break! But sleep in peace! (She covers it) Nations will weep for thee—and seas of blood Will flow as warm libations to thy manes— And then will Rizia mourn! But now—foul Treason! Will they not curse the day when thou wert berth’d In some disloyal mind, by Pride engender’d, And nurs’d by hellish treachery? They will! But why to far [Sind]?—O now I see— The miscreants! Ah! they know not—let me go— And when I come they’ll sorrow ... (Exit) [Penultimate Scene]70 Delhi (A chamber in the Palace)

(Enter two Slaves) 1st S: And so they’ve murder’d the poor Empress? 2nd S: I’faith—I know not: ’tis a pity if they have, for look you, she had the manliest heart—tho’ a woman, and was a very Hatim* in her generosity.— 1st S: How unlike her brother— 2nd S: O by the Prophet!—Our foolish new emperor is no more like her than the silly glow-worm is rival to the light-brow’d Queen of Night,

70 The last two scenes from the PT, Scenes VIII and IX, follow.

*

“Hatim”—A man famous for generosity among Persian writers. [PT]

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when she walks on the star-peopl’d heavens in unclouded majesty. Ah!—I sigh for the days of good queen Rizia! 1st S: Have they really murder’d her? (Enter another Slave) 3rd S: Avaunt ye caitiffs! (affectedly gesticulating) The mighty—the glorious Emperor of the world approaches! Lo! the proud earth doth joy to kiss his feet, And thousand perfum’d breezes whispering meet To fan his royal brow; the boundless sky Looks brighter with the lustre of his eye! 2nd S: Bravely done!—But where’s the empress? 3rd S: Gone to green [Sind]— 1st S: Not murder’d? O Allah!— 3rd S: No—no. Sent to the keeping of the Lord Altunia— 2nd S: Any retinue? 3rd S: A few of her oldest slaves—and her two little Peris—Sherin and Leela— 1st S: O glorious!—Then we shall see her again! 2nd S: Vanish—the emperor— (Exeunt Slaves.— Enter Byram—Balin—Kabirc—Turkish Chiefs—attendants &c.) Byr: Our thanks are due to you—most noble Lords! Your wisdom, and your valour have for us Form’d strong—and lasting steps to this high throne And now we pray that your proud arms may shine E’en as an adamant wall to guard it: Come— This boundless empire is the monument Of your brave deeds: Come, wear these mighty Lords! (He gives them each a dress of state) And Fame, the everlasting trumpeter, Will register your names in her deathless scroll. And now to joyous feast and revelrie, For all around is still—like to the sea,

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When vanquisht storms have fled with hollow moans, And the fierce anger’d waves have sunk in rest. Bal: Be thine for aye, O dread and royal liege! Honour and glory!— Kab: And may those who be Foes to thy throne perish— Turkish Chief: Amen!—amen[.] Byr: Thanks, valiant Lords! and now to festive joys! (Exeunt Byr:—Bal:—T. Chief—attendants &c.) Kab: I do regret me—this is my reward— (Looking at his dress of state) She never wrong’d me— Did I not thrive as well when she did rule? But ’tis too late. Poor Queen! and where’s she now? Perhaps in some lone chamber—weeping! Fy! I feel unmann’d. I must not in this mood Present me to the banquet—Let me see— The sparkling Sheraz—that will cure my sorrow! (Exit) [Last extant Scene] [Sind] (A chamber in the castle of Altunia)

RIZIA—LEELA—SHERIN Riz: I cannot weep— Leela: My sweet—my gracious mistress! Riz: O Leela! gentle Leela!—hast thou no spell To thaw—resolve the cold, the icy weight Which crushes this mine heart?— O royal ladye! Leela: Is it not said, e’en by the wise and good,*

*

From the celebrated Persian poet—Sadi . [PT]

Rizia

That Patience sits at the gold-portal’d gate Of the bright, fairy palace of Desire, And holds its weird key?— Riz: I cannot weep.— Last eve I sat beneath a tow’ring tree In yon wide wood! it was a stately tree, But wither’d and all naked as the mast Of some tall ship, left to the surging wrath Of storms and ocean-waves—and there, me-thought, I heard a wild, lone voice, and thus it came: ‘A realmless Queen beneath a leafless tree! ‘Well have they met—the fallen!’ Leela: My gracious Mistress! When once again sweet spring with rosy steps Shall tread the gladden’d earth, will not she deck That wither’d tree with freshest charms, and breathe A soul of beauty in each leaf and spray? Riz: Ay—so doth hope, the false enchantress, sing! Leela: Then list thee to her song— Alas! poor child! Riz: When the sweet breeze of eve comes wandering on, Each blushing rose doth welcome with bright tears The gladsome pilgrim, for to her he breathes The fondest vows of love: but when that breeze Soars high around a tall and leafless tree, His voice of melody is as a dirge— His whispers as the melancholy accents Of one who mourns with, but can never heal Some pale, lone sufferer!—Thus it is with Hope: For to the young—the innocent—the gay, Hers is the sweetest song—the brightest smile; But to the broken-heart—that song—that smile, Are as a lonely wail—a pale, cold ray Which falls upon a waste—a desolate ruin!

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Leela: Ah me!—that thus it should— Sherin: ’Tis Destiny, Mysterious and unfathom’d: look around— One revels in the crystal-pillar’d dome* Rear’d by gay-thoughted Pleasure; and another Sighs in the solitude of some poor shed Roofless—with lightless hearth—and damp and cold:— One sits him on his gold and sun-bright throne, In sovran pomp—and glorious Majesty; Another, prostrate on the lowly dust, Breathes his faint prayers as to a mighty god:— One in voluptuous mood is softly couch’d By Luxury upon her rosy bosom; Another toils and sweats and pants to rend The crushing chain of bleak, stern Penury: One joys him in the warm, the fond embrace Of glad-eyed Love, and wears its silken chain But to be bless’d and triumph; and another Weeps in the melancholy widowhood Of his lone heart beside the silent tomb Where sleeps the lov’d—the loving snatch’d away In life’s young morn by the black hand of Death: One blithely wanders in hope’s bow’r of bliss, While with her starriest smiles she guides his path; Another sits him in the rayless cave Of sad Despair, in bitterness of soul,— Or breathes unhallow’d curses— Riz: Prithee cease. It is a bitter truth— Sherin: Then why should we Mourn, mighty Queen! for aught in this wide world, Thick-peopl’d with strange contrarieties? ’Tis Destiny—but Destiny o’r-rul’d

*

Imitated from Sadi.

Rizia

By Him, the God of wisdom and of love— Of wisdom infinite and passing thought, Of love abysmal as th’unfathom’d Deep! Riz: ’Tis true— Sherin: And, therefore, ’tis, methinks, enough To bathe the soul in the sweet-flowing waters Of calm content, and lull it with its hosts Of troublous passions and all reinless thoughts Upon the bosom of meek Resignation! As on some tow’ring tree, whose out-stretch’d arms O’er-shadow many a rood, ten-thousand pilgrims, Winged and music-throated, seek a home, When dewy Eve comes with her lonely star; But cleave their aery paths to many a region, When the sun mounts the crystal, orient hill: ’Tis thus we come—’tis thus we pass away! Full many a warrior-monarch, who unfurl’d* The banner of earth-conquering victory— Full many a child of beauty, whose proud form Sham’d e’en the cypress-ladye of the wood— Whose sun-bright eyes won deepest adoration— Once walk’d this earth, and yet—where are they now? The spider weaves and hangs its frail, funereal pall† In the lone chambers of proud Caesar’s palace; And the hoarse, midnight owl doth sing its dirge From thy high castle-tow’r, Afrasiab!— Riz: ’Tis true—my gentle ones! and yet the heart Is deaf—oft deaf to— Gracious Mistress mine! Leela: Hear of a royal warrior of this land, Who lost and won his kingdom—

* †

H: [Hafiz?] From the Persian. “Afrasiab,” a famous king and warrior of Persia.

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Riz: Lost and won? Leela: Yes—lost and won. It is a Lay of Eld, Wove by a youthful Minstrel of my land— Of green Bengala— Riz: Take thy lute, My sweet! (Leela plays) Hush—tell me first, how was this monarch nam’d? Leela: THE BRAVE KING PORUS. (Singing) I ‘O wake thee from thy rest, ‘Land of the sun! hear’st thou the din of war? ‘Hark!—from the blue-skied west, ‘It rolls like thunder-bursts, deep—echo’d far! ‘And thousand pilgrims, faint and pale, ‘Come shrieking many a fearful tale, ‘Of well-greav’d warrior, stern and brave,* ‘Whose path is o’er his foeman’s grave— ‘Of phalanx’d squadron banner’d high, ‘In bright and gleaming panoplie— ‘Of fiery barb, and glowing wheel— ‘Of foughten waving crest fieldand andlinked gory plain— steel— ‘Of death—of shame—of captive chain! ‘In queenly Persia’s sun-bright vale, ‘There is a murmur’d voice of wail, ‘And strangers in her bow’r and hall ‘Now revel in glad festival, ‘And ravish’d maid and widow’d bride ‘Weep by her blood-red fountain-side,

*

From Homer.

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‘For on Granicus’ fatal field,* ‘By death’s eternal signet seal’d ‘All coldly sleep the young—the brave, ‘Whose valour-sinew’d arms could save— ‘And there, gor’d by foul traitor-blade, ‘Her royal lord is lowly laid!† ‘Wake—quiver’d warrior! from thy bow ‘Hurl death-wing’d shaft to pierce the foe— ‘Or—on thy whirl-wing-footed steed, ‘Rush forth to proud and glorious deed— ‘With blade un-sheath’d and mighty shield, ‘O wake thee for th’embattl’d field— ‘And lift thy flashing spear on high, ‘And blast with glance of warrior-eye— ‘And deafen with the stormy yell, ‘The dread—deep thunder of this shell! ‘Wake—for the fanes your Fathers trod ‘To worship Him—your Fathers’ God— ‘Wake—for the maid, the lotus-flow’r ‘Who decks your hearth—enstars your bow’r ‘Wake—for the demon-spoiler’s nigh— ‘Wake for thy home—thy liberty!’ II Thus sang the Bard from where the tide Of Indus rolls in sleepless pride— Thus sang the Bard—and echo caught The music of each glowing thought, And on she flew o’er mount and hill, Tumultuous stream and murmuring rill:—

* †

The field on which Darius, the King of Persia fought his last battle with Alexander. I hope I am correct—the disappearance of my “Curtius” obliges me to rely on a somewhat clouded recollection of the subject. Darius was killed by treachery.

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Cashmeera—land of fount and rose, Sprung in wild haste from soft repose— Panchala—land of mighty streams,* Woke from her mood of gentle dreams— Husteena flung her banner high,† Like eagle-wing of victory— Ayodhya fiercely twang’d the bow‡ Which aye appals the bravest foe— And from Bengala’s sun my vale Came proud defiance on the gale— While in the countless-realm’d Dekan71 Rose many a wild and warrior-clan. Thus on the wide and shoreless plain Of the blue-heaving-bosom’d main, Ten thousand—thousand billows swell, In giant wrath, full stern and fell, What time the tempest, on his car, Comes in dread majesty from far. III King Porus sat in his royal hall,§ In stateliest pomp—majestical, And all around his mighty throne, Full many a steel-clad chieftain shone— Stern—stalwart—and with dauntless breast, As doth beseem a warrior best. ‘Ha!’—quoth king Porus, ‘by my [say], ‘’Twill be, I ween, a bloody fray, 71 Dekkan or Deccan.

* † ‡ §

The Punjaub. [Punjab, but Dutt’s note is incorrect because modern historians identify Panchala with upper Uttar Pradesh] Delhi [Hastinapur] Oude [Awadh] Porus was the king of Lahore.

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‘For, stout—right valiant foemen they ‘Who foot them many a weary rood ‘For conquest and for deeds of blood. — ‘But, by yon high and bright-hair’d sun, ‘Whose proud blood in these veins doth run,* ‘Will stand e’en as a mountain-wall, ‘To stem the tide and save or—fall! ‘And now—aye, ’tis the parting hour— ‘I’ll seek my ladye in her bow’r, ‘Away—my valorous warriors all!’ IV O canst thou dream of the ladye’s bow’r In eastern lands—of fount and flow’r, All bright with Beauty’s nameless dow’r? Bethink thee of that primal hill— Its garden and palm-marged rill, Where first the father of mankind, In joyous wonder unconfin’d, Saw—lov’d—ador’d, when by his side There stood God’s sweetest gift—his bride— ’Twill aid thy Fancy’s limning well, ’Twill teach thee what no tongue may tell!

*

Of the “Suryavansha”—Family of the Sun [one of the two legendary Indian royal lineages].

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Additional Songs72 From Scene II 1st Noble: A strange, sad prelude—sad and passing strange! 2nd Noble: Hush! O how sweet! (Leela plays on her lute) Her eyes are full of tears[.] Leela: (Singing) She stands beside the Holy Stream—* The star of Eve is on the sky, But softer than its pensive beam Is the pale lustre of her eye: The full-blown rose blooms by her side, Gem’d with the dew—so pearly bright— And breathes, as if in Beauty’s pride, Sweet perfumes on the brow of night; But brighter is the tear that flows 72 Dutt omitted from his MS two songs by Leela and Sherin, in Scenes II and III respectively of the PT, no doubt in the interests of dramatic brevity. I have provided them here, after appropriate emendation as needed. The asterisks are present in the text.

*

“As they passed along a sequestered river after sun-set, they saw a young Hindoo [PT has “Hindu”] girl upon the bank, whose employment seemed to them so strange, that they stopped their palankeens [i.e., palanquins; PT capitalizes it] to observe her. She had lighted a small lamp, filled with [PT inserts “the”, but Moore’s original does not have it] oil of cocoa, and placing it in an earthen dish, adorned with a wreath of flowers, had committed it with a trembling hand to the stream. ... [i]t was the usual way in which the friends of those who had gone on dangerous voyages, offered up vows for their safe return. If the lamp sunk immediately, the omen was disastrous; but if it went shining [PT has “spinning”] down the stream, and continued to burn till entirely out of sight, the return of the beloved object was considered as certain.” LALLA ROOKH. [I have compared against Lalla Rookh as printed in Thomas Moore’s The Poetical Works (Paris: A. and W. Galignani, 1827), 15.]

Rizia

Adown that lonely maiden’s cheek— And sweeter are the sighs that break The tranquil and the deep repose Of that so wild—and lovely scene— That faery bank of mossy green! She stands beside the Holy Stream— A glimmering lamp is in her hand, Enwreath’d with flow’rs of starry gleam— The brightest of her flow’ry land: She looks upon the rippling wave, With Music—soft as heard in dream— That comes her moveless feet to lave, Bright sparkling with the moon-lit beam. A paler hue is on her cheek— And higher her soft bosom heaves— Why trembles she—as when the bleak Autumnal blasts sweep o’er the leaves? So! on the glassy wave—so gay— Her flow’r-wreath’d lamp now floats away! On—on it floats along the tide— ’Tis sweet to mark its trembling ray, Soft—undulating far and wide— In star-like beauty glide away! Hope! bid the breeze in whispers sweeping O’er yonder river’s glistening breast, And fanning every star that’s sleeping, Flee to his coral cave of rest. Oh! waft that lamp with angel-wings Far—far from that pale maiden’s eye, Till Distance veils its glimmerings With gloom, like dark Futurity, For in that ark—so frail and fair— Her softest dreams of bliss are there!

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’Tis gone! hark! there’s a shriek— * * * And where is she that maiden fair? * * * Go—ask the moon-light crested wave Which murmurs on her early grave! * * * Riz: My heart is sad—a melancholy lay! Give me the liquid ruby. (A slave offers her wine)

From Scene III Sherin: Give me the lute O God! that such should be The fate of those that love!— (She plays and sings) Where loneliest waters calmly glide, And leafy branches twine and meet, And founts, inurned in silver pride, Make music low and sad and sweet,— The beauty of the wood-land bow’r, The bright gazelle of liquid eye, Doth bloom a solitary flow’r, Far from the world’s dark treachery! Then [sic: There?], sweet-eyed maiden! fly, O fly, In solitude to live and die, For the world hath charms, without a name, To work thee woe—to do thee shame! Upon the lonely—murmuring stream, Her beautiful, blue-heaving throne, The lotus loves to sit and dream— Far from the world—alone—alone!

Rizia

She blooms not where gay roses bloom, Tho’ fair the hue upon her brow, And sweet her breath of soft perfume, And bright her cheek with beauty’s glow. Then [There,] sweet-eyed maiden! fly, O fly, In solitude to live and die, For the world hath charms, without a name, To work thee woe—to do thee shame!

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[Back Matter] There is not a single line, expression, or thought, in the following pages, suggested by an Englishman: it is the author’s ambition to stand or fall alone. M.S.D. Madras University 1855.

[Inside Back Cover]

The Drama of the East (First Series)

By M. S. Dutt

1855

KAMINEE

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INTRODUCTION While stray, usuallysecond-handand inaccurate, citations of The Persecuted and Rizia crop up in literary histories and criticism, I have not seen any reference to Kaminee anywhere, other than a couple of bibliographical entries. This is understandable because it is not a significantly early play, appearing over forty years after Banerjea’s path-breaking work, but also because its author is not well-known—indeed, not known at all, for it was published anonymously. Therein lies an intriguing mystery. According to the mandate of the Press and Registration of Books Act (1867), publishers had to deposit new books to the government (unstated: for surveillance purposes after the First War of Indian Independence had caught the British off-guard). The invaluable register known as the Bengal Library Catalogue provides us a virtually infallible record of publications in all Indian languages. Even though Kaminee does not reveal its writer’s name, the Catalogue lists him or her as “G. Ritchie” in the appropriate column.1 This surname will ring bells of recognition to those familiar with Anglo-Indian (in the old sense of the term) literature: it belongs to the illustrious Thackeray-Ritchie extended family, whose most celebrated representative was William Thackeray, born in Calcutta. Several Ritchies of this pedigree, covering three generations, became eminent citizens of Calcutta, from William Ritchie (1817-62) to his younger sons Gerald (1853-1921) and Richmond (1854-1912). But none of them fits the bill for a G. Ritchie who published in 1874 in Calcutta. The obvious candidate, Gerald, left the city as a child and returned to India as a civil servant only in 1875. His adult experiences of the country date from that year at the earliest. He had a famous literary sister-in-law, Lady Anne Isabella Ritchie (1837-1919), but she qualified as a Ritchie only later, after marrying Richmond in 1877. Gerald also had an elder sister, Augusta (1847-1911), nicknamed Gussie, but she had departed from Calcutta for England long before, as had her mother, also named Augusta (1817-88). Besides, Gussie became Mrs 1

“Bengal Library Catalogue of Books”, Appendix to The Calcutta Gazette, 6 January 1875, 44-45.

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Douglas Freshfield after marriage in 1869. Neither could have written the play because it contains topical allusions to Calcutta events in the 1870s, particularly the latest, the Indian Majority Bill passed in 1874, and the launch of the Bengali cartoon magazine, Basantak, the same year. Given that the Bengal Library Catalogue entered the book’s date of issue from the press as 14 September, the tight time window makes it almost impossible for any of them based in England to incorporate such details and get the play printed in Calcutta by September. None of Gerald’s five other siblings seems eligible either. I have failed to identify any other G. Ritchie living in Bengal during that year. The purportedly exhaustive lists of European inhabitants in The Bengal Directory and Calcutta Directory do not throw up any match for both 1874 and 1875.2 Assuming that this person could not have slipped under the radar, we face two possibilities. One, that the name is a pseudonym. Why, risking allegations of fraud and impersonation, I cannot presume to answer. Two, that joint authorship is plausible. In other words, a certain Ritchie composed the original script, but somebody else, perhaps a native Indian who wished to remain unnamed because of the play’s content, completed or collaboratively wrote it, maybe inserting the more immediate topical references. At this point I shall divulge dramatically another cryptic detail from the Bengal Library Catalogue. The penultimate column for all entries identifies the proprietor of copyright. For Kaminee, this was J. Belmont Gomes—a typically Bengali Christian name.3 In the 1870s, one J. B. Gomes (Jr) worked as a reporter for the British-owned Indian Daily News 2

3

The Bengal Directory (Calcutta: Thacker, Spink and Co., 1874 and 1875); Calcutta Directory for 1874 (Calcutta: Cones and Co., 1874). A pensioner by the name of C. Ritchie lived in Nynee Tal (Naini Tal), but I see no reason to believe that the meticulous Bengal Library Catalogue erred in printing the initial, even though Kaminee contains a throwaway remark on Nynee Tal in Act III. It is interesting to remember here that the Tagore family appointed a Mrs Gomes as tutor for their small children. It was a fairly common practice for elite Hindu, and Brahmo, families to ask European or Indian Christian ladies, known for their fluency in English, to come home to educate girls within the zenana, rather than send them outside the house to schools. The play includes such a female character, albeit British.

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printed from Calcutta.4 But why would Ritchie give copyright to Gomes? Had Ritchie gone away or died and bequeathed this intellectual property to Gomes, or did Gomes simply have possession of the manuscript? It was an onerous responsibility to bear, due to the reformist as well as religious nature of the material, and could account for the decision to publish anonymously. The curious epigraph to Kaminee suggests a third conjecture. It reworks a stanza from a poem titled “The Hindoo Widow” by the Anglo Indian author and Calcutta resident, Thomas Benson Laurence (?–1871?), a “newspaper reporter” by profession.5 While it could be simply a tribute by a friend to the recently-departed Laurence, it is not inconceivable that Laurence rewrote his own lines and drafted the play, given the similar subject of his earlier poem. At the same time, this seems unlikely because as far as evidence from literature search reveals, Laurence never composed drama (he had to his credit two volumes of poetry, a two-part pioneering anthology titled English Poetry in India, a memoir, and a collection of miscellaneous prose and verse), and his presumed death in 1871 means that he could not have made the most recent allusions I have previously mentioned. However, as already speculated, someone else could have interpolated these; could it have been Gomes, a fellow journalist? But then why hide Laurence behind the name of Ritchie?

4

5

The Calcutta Directory for 1874, 8:31, mentions his profession. Another J. B. Gomes, Sr, presumably his father, lived in the same house and was an accountant in the Howrah Municipality. John Belmont died very young, at the age of 28 in January 1875, and was buried in the Lower Circular Road Cemetery. According to their common headstone, John Boilard Gomes died in 1879, aged 64. “Alphabetical List of Residents”, The Bengal Directory (Calcutta: Thacker, Spink and Co., 1871), 130. The directory lists him as “Lawrence, T. B.”, an obvious misspelling. Although not an exact match, the chances of two men in Calcutta with British-origin names having near-identical surnames and identical double initials are negligible. From 1872 onwards, street directories no longer name him as residing in his house, but “Mrs Lawrence”, hence my circumstantial conclusion that he died in late 1871 or early 1872. However, I have not traced any burial record.

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Whatever the truth about the author, his theme certainly explains why the Indian Mirror Press accepted it for publication. The Indian Mirror was a periodical of the Brahmo Samaj, espousing its liberal ideals against orthodox Hinduism and simultaneously propagating nascent nationalism. In 1874, the proprietor of the Press was the somewhat controversial Keshub Chunder Sen (1838-84), who had broken away from the original Brahmo Samaj to found his own branch, and had transformed the Indian Mirror newspaper into a widely-read daily. All the more reason to regard Kaminee as Indian drama, whether written pseudonymously, singly by Ritchie, a British national, or Laurence, or cowritten by either one and an Indian (Gomes?). The play touched on one of the most hotly debated issues of its day: widow marriage. Through the relentless crusading of Iswar Chandra Vidyasagar (1820-91), the government had promulgated the Hindu Widows’ Remarriage Act in 1856. Even then, this legislation did not gain popular acceptance. In 1859, a circle of progressive young men who eventually formed the top brass of the Indian Mirror, including K. C. Sen, a few relations (among them, Norendronath Sen was the editor in 1874) and their friends, established the amateur Metropolitan Theatre to stage one of the earliest original Bengali plays, Bidhabā Bibāha (“Widow Marriage”), under K. C. Sen’s direction, presenting both the emancipation and the social troubles of young widows who married again.6 Therefore, it would not surprise me to learn that someone from the Indian Mirror actually authored Kaminee. Furthermore, the dramatist spliced that theme with another sensitive and contentious topic, conversion to Christianity, and may have drawn primary inspiration from a real-life cause célèbre in Calcutta to which the text refers. The case of Gunesh Soondery Dabee Sen7 had become sensational in 1870. A teenage Hindu widow and possibly distant relative

6

7

Sen often supervised theatre productions. In 1857, he performed as Hamlet in English, with Norendronath opposite him as Ophelia. See Ananda Lal and Sukanta Chaudhuri, ed., Shakespeare on the Calcutta Stage: A Checklist (Calcutta: Papyrus, 2001), 30. In contemporary spelling, Ganesh Sundari Devi Sen.

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of K. C. Sen, she embraced Christianity but family members alleged missionary influence: [To the Editor of the “Spectator.”]8 Sir,--The Times of June 13 contained an account of a recent case before the Calcutta High Court, arising out of a conversion, in which the writer stated that a widow girl, Gunesh Soondery Dabee, “a relation” of Baboo [Babu] Keshub Chunder Sen’s, had “excited the animosity of the whole class of Brahmos by being baptized by the Church missionaries.” A letter in the Record of June 6 had made similar statements, adding that the girl’s relations were “leading Brahmos,” and both these writers commented on the inconsistency of Baboo Keshub’s professions with the intolerant practice of the Somaj, the Times even saying that “the most liberal missionaries declare that they find the Brahmos their most bitter opponents.” As these statements are being widely circulated here, may I request space to correct them on the authority of those concerned? 1. Baboo K. C. Sen writes to me,—“It is not true, as has been alleged, that the girl is a near relative of mine. She is of the same caste (Vaidya), and may be a distant connection of our family. But I never knew her, and never heard of her before the event in question happened. She was not a member of the Brahmo Somaj before her conversion to Christianity,” but “was a Hindoo.” Baboo K. C. Sen’s brother, Baboo Krishna B. Sen, writes to the Calcutta Daily Examiner to make precisely similar statements. The Indian Mirror, the organ of the Brahmo Somaj Mission, also contradicts the report “that the girl was in any way connected with the Brahmo Somaj,” 8

In London. “Alleged Intolerance of the Brahmo Somaj” [Somaj was the institution’s official English spelling in those days], The Spectator, 2 July 1870, p. 13.

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and doubts her family relationship to its leader,—and to the insinuation made by the missionaries, “that the Brahmo Somaj had had some connection with the action taken by the plaintiffs” for the recovery of the girl, the Mirror replies, “to this statement we are authorized to give an unqualified contradiction.” Baboo Keshub, also referring to the charge “that the Brahmos persecuted the girl,” writes to me, “This is simply untrue, and morally impossible. One or two individual Brahmos perhaps supported the case, as friends and relations of the mother of the girl,—not as Brahmos. One of them was a cousin of mine [Norendronath Sen]9, who was engaged as attorney for the prosecution.” It is probable that this circumstance, combined with the fact that the girl’s family name was also Sen, gave rise to the idea that Baboo Keshnb’s “relations and confraternity” were persecuting her. 2. But the further question arises,—supposing that a few Brahmos did interest themselves in the case, why were they arrayed against Christian missionaries, unless from a bigoted repugnance to a native’s conversion? Because this appeared to be a case, not of independant [sic] adult convictions, but of a young girl eloping from home under the clandestine persuasion of a Zenana teacher. Her actual age was not proved one way or the other; her mother said she was fourteen, while she herself claimed to be over sixteen (the usual age of Hindoo majority), and the judge believed himself to be bound in law to accept the latter statement as made by the missionaries in return to the writ of Habeas Corpus. Upon this narrow technical point the decision turned; but the judge gave the following unfavourable estimate of the girl’s state of 9

The afore-mentioned editor of the Mirror, and one-time actor of Ophelia in Hamlet.

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mind as the result of his private examination of her:—”I could not help coming to the conclusion that the young lady is exceedingly ignorant and very ill-informed upon that particular subject which she says has engaged her attention, and which has been the particular purpose of instruction for the last two years. It appears to me from that short interview that she does not possess a single tangible idea which can be called correct. Her ignorance of the one sacred Book is in itself simply marvellous, and I am not blind to the danger which exists when a girl so young, so ignorant, and so inexperienced, leaves the society of those amongst whom she has lived all her life, and goes to live in the society of those strangers whose names even she does not know.” The Rev. Mr. Vaughan, who examined her previous to baptism, writes to the Indian Mirror, saying that she was too frightened to give a clear account to the judge of what she knew. On these points it is impossible to form a decision at a distance; but it is noteworthy that the course taken by the missionaries in this affair has been condemned by nearly all the Calcutta Press, and that Christian public opinion is increasingly setting against these conflicts with heathen parents for the bodily possession of juvenile converts. 3. Of course Baboo Keshub frankly states his disapproval of this “barrack system,” as it is called. But in opposing it, he does not feel that he is opposing the missionaries, but only some of their modes of conversion. That body for whom alone he is at all responsible, the “progressive Brahmos,” are not, he says, enemies of Christianity. All the leading men among them honour Christ, and cannot, therefore, hate or persecute His servants. Trusting that these explanations may remove some of the misconceptions that are abroad,—I am, Sir, &c., S. D. Collet.

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[Everybody, the Judge included, who touches this case seems to miss the real point,—namely, the right of free people to go their own way. The woman had a right to go where she liked, the family had a right to persuade her to go where they liked, and so had the Missionaries. Nobody broke the law, and the woman’s ignorance had nothing to do with her inherent right to do as she pleased.—Ed. Spectator.] Upon reading Kaminee, we can conclude that the playwright borrowed much material from this incident, but simultaneously complicated the drama by making the teenaged heroine a highly intelligent and accomplished young lady with a bright future ahead of her in empowered conditions, denied by her rigid father. Unusually for a 19th-century play, the open ending leaves us guessing as to her fate; in Act IV, she does not give any indications that she will leave home, though her walkout reported afterwards is as unthinkable a step in her society as Nora’s slamming the door behind her in A Doll’s House, five years later. Kaminee does not appear in the last act, in which other characters ask what options lie before her—in terms of marriage (both the men, Indian and British, who fancied her choose other women, happily and safely), in terms of religious faith, and in terms of returning to her own family. I have not found any record of Kaminee being staged, though theatre in the English language had grown in Calcutta over the decades. Keshub Sen’s own house served as a venue into the early 1880s. However, in the last ten years of his life he became a philosophical reactionary, to the extent of marrying off his underage eldest daughter in 1878, scandalizing members of his denomination of the Brahmo Samaj, which consequently split yet again.

Note on the Text As is to be expected from a respected press, the book has very few typographical mistakes. The publisher attached an errata slip inside the inner back cover; rather than reprint its contents separately, I have corrected those three errors in the text itself. Some evidence of hurrying

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to finish the play does exist, which I have pointed out in my notes, but nowhere near the same as found in The Persecuted. Ananda Lal

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KAMINEE, THE VIRGIN WIDOW, AN

ENGLISH DRAMA IN

FIVE ACTS. ----------------------------“Her ardent joys are over now, Tho’blooming into womanhood. The shade of grief is on her brow— Bereft of every earthly good.”1

===============

CALCUTTA: PRINTED AT THE INDIAN MIRROR PRESS. -----------Price to Subscribers, 8 Annas. -----1874.

1

Probably a response to Thomas Benson Laurence’s “The Hindoo Widow”: Her earthly joys are over now, Tho’ blooming into womanhood ; The brand of shame is on her brow— Poor outcast of the human brood. Thomas Benson Laurence, “Augusta: A Tale of the Mutiny of 1857 in Three Cantos” and Other Poems (Calcutta: George Wyman & Co., 1866), 100-1.

Title page of Kaminee

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Dramatis Personae. Harry Wilton … … … … … … … … … … … … … … A Teacher of Music. Banee Madhob2 [Beni Mādhab]3 Sen … … … … … A Medical Practitioner. Madhob Chunder [Mādhab Chandra] Mookerjee … A Progressive Brahmo. Chunder Mohun [Chandra Mohan] Chatterjee … An enlightened Hindoo. Doyal Chunder Seal [Dayāl Chandra Shil] … A friend of Chunder Chatterjee. Peary Mohun [Piyāri Mohan] Banerjee … … … … An orthodox Hindoo. Kistodhone4 [Krishnadhan] Banerjee … …Father of the Virgin Widow and a bigotted Hindoo. Sibnarain [Shibnārāyan] Banerjee5 … … …A reformed Hindoo, and father of Komolinee and Phool Coomaree. Prankissen [Prānkrishan] Sen … … … … …A Solicitor of the High Court. Rev. Shama Churn [Shyāmā Charan] Mookerjee … … … … A Catechist. Beharry Lall [Bihāri Lāl] Dey… … … … … An eminent Hindoo Reformer.

--------------------Alice Thornhill … … … … … … … … A Zenana Teacher. Kaminee Phool Komolinee Coomaree [Kāmini] [Kamalini] [Phul … …… K…… …umāri] ……… …… … … … … The Virgin Widow. …… … Daughters … … … …of Sibnarain Banerjee. … … …… …

}

---------------------

2

3 4 5

Spelt consistently as “Mahdob” in text. Same for Madhob Chunder. In the transcription, I have retained the original printed spellings of English words to stay as close to the source as possible, for example, “bigotted”. I have provided the accepted modernized spellings within parentheses, and macrons above the long vowel ā, to help readers. Spelt consistently as “Kistodone” in text. Sibnarain Banerjee, Prankissen Sen and Rev. Mookerjee do not appear on stage in the play, though they are mentioned. The author may have planned to represent them, or ultimately deleted scenes including them.

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KAMINEE—THE VIRGIN WIDOW.

ACTI. Scene = The Theatre of the Medical College.6 [BANEE MAHDOB SEN STANDING IN THE VESTIBULE. ENTER MAHDOB CHUNDER MOOKERJEE.] BANEE.—Come along my learned Theist, you are rather early for the lecture. Come, give us a shake of your Brahmic7 paw—John-Bull fashion. MAHDOB.—Happy to see you, old crone—gushing patriot I should say. But where is Chunder? I saw his brougham enter the college when I was a mile off. BANEE.—Oh! he will be here directly—he has just stepped over to the dispensary across the road for some bitters. MAHDOB.—Here he comes in a rollicking humour—let us chaff him a bit. Precious bitters he needs. If he intends serenading the virgin widow to-night, he ought to take something more luscious than bitters, eh? [Enter Chunder Mohun Chatterjee.] CHUNDER.—What are you two wags gossiping about? I hope no combination for a practical lark at the lecture. MAHDOB.—No fear, milor—but what ails you, Mr. Lothario? Surely bitters cannot cure a love-sick swain, or we have studied Materia Medica in vain. CHUNDER.—Pshaw—leave off your raillery. Your intuitional knowledge of Materia Medica is as profound as that of a gorilla with a skull cap, from a Darwinian point of view, I mean.

6 7

The lecture theatre of the Medical College was regularly used as a venue for public addresses. Because Madhob is a Brahmo.

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BANEE.—Well done, Young Bengal, you are getting tarnation witty. It is a pity your mellifluous sitar does not temper down your angular jokes and bitter sarcasms a bit. MAHDOB.—Oh! his banter falls innocuous—it is a mere telum imbelle; it has not hurt me; but let us turn to the subject of the lecture which our friend Issen Chunder Dutt is going to deliver here this evening on widow marriage. BANEE.—That has been his hobby for years past. Whenever he meets a friend he is sure to hold him by the chupkan-string8 and bore him with his unmeaning platitudes about widow marriage for an hour! CHUNDER.—But have you aught to say against it? BANEE.—A great deal; for I am a steady advocate of orthodoxy; but we expect to hear you following up Issen Baboo to-night with a sensation speech—a brilliant oration. Perhaps you have got it ready in your pocket. Now is the time to make yourself famous; but you must endeavour to mouth it Dundreary9 fashion. CHUNDER.—Nonsense, man, I am not going to speechify at all, though I have been asked pressingly. Issen Baboo does not need any support from such a humble scholar as myself; but if I wanted to help him a bit, it would not be by a cut and dried affair, but a spontaneous speech on the spur of the moment. MAHDOB.—Stans pede in uno, like a certain domestic bird of the Tunda Goose genera? That wouldn’t anser,10 I fear, but at any rate we shall lose an intellectual treat. CHUNDER.—That cannot matter much, Mr. Intuitive Savant; you will hear a speech of stirring eloquence from the learned President, and I understand Peary Mohun Bose and Nokoor Chunder Roy are prepared to chāpkān, a loose robe used in formal wear. In Tom Taylor’s Our American Cousin, a brainless Lord with long drooping whiskers. 10 Madhob plays on Anser, the zoological genus of the goose, and “answer”. “Tunda Goose” alludes to the hit song “Bengalee Baboo” by Dave Carson, where he lampooned the English speech of a fictitious Bengali babu, “Ramchand Tunda Ghosh my name”. A line in Act IV refers to “Tunda Ghose”, Ghose or Ghosh being a common Bengali surname, therefore Madhob makes a double pun here.

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take part in the discussion. I need not tell you that Peary Bose is an elegant speaker. He once electrified an audience—not at your Brahmo Mandir, but at the Family Literary Club.11 BANEE.—That is all rot, believe me. Peary keeps a stock of screaming hits to make effect. Like Bassanio12 he talks an infinite deal of nothing. He may possess the gift of the gab and amuse you parrot-wise; but he is not quite up to the subject, which requires more consumption of the midnight oil. I suspect he has got his speech written out by the Editor of the Morning Beam13. MAHDOB.—Why, there is nothing difficult in the topic which you and I cannot master. The subject of widow marriage has become thread bare, stale, flat, and unprofitable as a thrice-told tale. It has been aired in all the newspapers—debated by the unfledged orators of the Union Chapel Hall14—and dreamt over by pessimist philosophers—without producing any appreciable benefit. I dare say there will be some allusion to the case of Gunesh Soondery Dabee, the unfortunate convert, and to the “Eastern Lily,” whom Mr. Storrow’s sentimentalism has immortalized.15 CHUNDER.—The speeches no doubt will be characterized by a breadth and comprehensiveness of view befitting the theme, and will not only include Gunesh Soondery’s case, but numerous other cases of similar type, such as will appal the mind of our apathetic countrymen; and whatever

11 mandir means temple, here the Brahmo prayer assembly hall. Despite its innocuous name, the Family Literary Club was established in 1857 (with K. M. Banerjea a leading sponsor) to bring Indians and Europeans together in discussing issues like governance and female education sympathetically. 12 In Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice. 13 A Bengali daily of that time. 14 The hall of the Union Chapel in Creek Row, often used for public lectures. 15 Rev. Edward Storrow, The Eastern Lily Gathered: A Memoir of Bala Shoondore Tagore, with a preface by Rev. James Kennedy (London: John Snow, 1852). A biography of Ganendra Mohun Tagore’s young wife, who gravitated toward Christianity and expressed the wish that both of them convert. But she died suddenly in 1851. Ganendra (or Gyanendra), son of Prosunno Coomar (Prasanna Kumar) Tagore, embraced Christianity within a few weeks after her death. As mentioned in my Introduction to The Persecuted, K. M. Banerjea baptized him.

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may be your indifference about this matter, in the words of Shakspeare [sic]:— I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul and [sic] freeze thy young blood!16

MAHDOB.—Bravo, stump orator! You ought to be a burning and shining light in Lewis’ Theatre Royal17, as you seem to possess excellent histrionic talent. I wonder if you can successfully personate the character of a despairing lover, or indite impromptu sonnets to the eye-brow of the virgin widow. BANEE.—Shut up your silly rant. You fancy you are an irrepressible joker, and are always interrupting sensible talk. I suppose paying off old scores—gorilla in a skull cap, eh? CHUNDER.—Oh! there is no harm in a little passage at arms of this kind; but Mahdob has not mastered yet the A B C of the subject, so that all his intuitive ipse dixit, and foregone conclusions, will not affect the opinion I have formed on it. The wretched condition of Hindoo widows is a gigantic evil. Its existence reflects the greatest disgrace on the enlightenment of our countrymen, who have been educated by our worthy rulers for more than half a century; and the removal of it requires all the efforts we can put forth. The splendid eloquence of our pretended patriots and moral reformers is a mere sham. What we want are not lectures disfigured by high-falutin language, nor fine writing in the newspapers for self-glorification, but deeds. The moral degradation of our countrywomen is mainly to be attributed to the effete system of perpetual widowhood, which, like the deadly Upas tree, is shedding a pernicious influence around, demanding our immediate attention: besides, something must be done to stir up our would-be reformers from the vis inertia in which they seem to be comfortably ensconced. Let them prove that all their eloquence is not mere appeals to bunkum, to be followed by falling into old grooves of inaction and indifference, but a heart-felt desire to ameliorate the condition of their countrywomen, not to be repressed by any opposition or difficulty. If they 16 Hamlet, Act I Scene 5. 17 Mrs Lewis’s fashionable but short-lived English playhouse, built on Chowringhee in 1872.

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fall in this laudable cause, let them fall like Antæus, to rise stronger from the fall; and persevere until their praiseworthy object be accomplished—a consummation devoutly to be wished. MAHDOB.—Bravo, Shakspeare again! Why, you have certainly studied the immortal bard to some purpose. CHUNDER.—The wretched fate to which our society remorselessly consigns the widow is one of the worst features of our national religion. We do not ignore the difficulties which surround the task of emancipating our femalesfromtheirthraldom,butsurelythe indifferenceandapathydisplayed by our brethren in the matter deserve to be denounced by the loudest anathemas. While we hear so much refined speculations about reforms, and see so much wasting of marketable energy about non-essentials, no steps are taken to remove the blot of perpetual widowhood, which, like a canker, is eating into our social system. This is the fruitful source of the wide-spread misery of our women, and the deep-rooted immorality which disgraces our society. That theory which inculcates a course of life that demands the severest self-denials and sacrifices, as its normal condition, shutting out for ever the blessings of life and its enjoyments, the inalienable right of human nature, cannot be upheld as rational; and no one could advocate it unless held down in intellectual helotry, sunk in superstition as dark as Erebus, and completely over-ridden by Brahminical bigotry. MAHDOB.—Hear, hear! BANEE.—Well done, Mr. Demosthenes; you should be crowned with a chaplet of laurels as a veritable Knight of La Mancha18, and go forth like your prototype into the scented gullies19 and perfumed slums of Calcutta to emancipate the languishing ladies from their parental dungeons. MAHDOB.—Really that was an exhaustive speech, Chunder. I fear you have anticipated all that the Lecturer or the President may have to say. CHUNDER.—I don’t mind your irony and sneer. I have a great deal yet to add. I have but just lifted the corner of the vast field before me.

18 Don Quixote. 19 gali, or lane.

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MAHDOB.—It would be decidedly unfair to the expected Boanerges20, I think, to hear your facinating [sic] harangue any longer. BANEE.—Besides, see the lights are lit—the people are gathering in fast—let us be going to secure prominent seats. (Exeunt.)

20 “sons of thunder”, the name Jesus gave to James and John for offering to call down fire from heaven to smite the Samaritans.

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ACTII. Scene = Drawing-room in the Mansion-house of Baboo Sibnarain Banerjee. [KOMOLINEE, PHOOL COOMAREE, AND KAMINEE, STANDING IN A GROUP, CONVERSING.] KOMOLINEE.—I wonder what keeps Miss Alice. It is past 11 o’clock. Do you know the cause? Did she tell you she would be late this morning? PHOOL.—Not a word. Perhaps she was requested to purchase some books for us from the Baptist Mission Press21. KOMOLINEE.—No; the music books we require will be brought by Mr. Wilton from Harold’s22. PHOOL.—Well, but the vocabulary? I know father was talking to Miss Alice about procuring a copy from the Rev. Mr. Rouse. KOMOLINEE.—Oh! here she comes. I heard the rattle of a gharry23, am I sure. [Enter Miss Alice Thornhill, in great haste.] ALICE.—Good morning girls. I suppose you have been expecting me sometime now. I went to procure the vocabulary from the Baptist Mission Press. On my return I met with an accident, that is, my gharry came in collision with that of a baboo’s near Miss Leslie’s School24 in Boitaconnah, and there was a terrible confusion about it. Luckily there was no injury to any one. KOMOLINEE.—We are glad to hear it. ALICE.—Well, now, let us begin work—better late than never, you know. Are your lessons ready? PHOOL.—Yes, we are quite prepared for you. Kaminee is also here, and has read carefully the chapter marked by you; but I fear before we can

21 Major printer and publisher of missionary and other books in Calcutta, run at that time by Rev. George Henry Rouse (1838-1909). 22 Music shop in Dalhousie Square. 23 Anglicized from gāri, for horse-drawn carriage. 24 One of the few girls’ schools for “natives”, run by a missionary.

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well get through, Mr. Wilton will drop in, as this is the day for our music lesson. ALICE.—Let us put off our reading then for to-day, and make up for lost time to-morrow. KOMOLINEE.—Mr. Wilton wishes to meet you, Miss Alice. He desired me to communicate this message to you without fail. ALICE.—I shall see about it. Well, Kaminee, you look unusually tidy to-day. Nature unadorned is adorned the best. What does your father say about getting you united to some rich baboo of a good character? KAMINEE.—Oh! he will not listen to any such strange propositions. ALICE.—He must be veryinexorableindeed if, after all the arguments of his friends, he remains unmoved; and this is the more remarkable, as his brother, your uncle, is a very different person altogether—liberal-minded, open to conviction, and an enemy to all superstition and priestcraft. He has spared no expense for the improvement and enlightenment of Komolinee and Phool Coomaree. You have probably not heard of a melancholy episode in the life of Parbuttee, who, like Kaminee, was a virgin widow of fourteen. Her father was as relentless as Baboo Kistodone Banerjee. He received an overture from a respectable Koolin25 for an honorable alliance with his daughter, but he rejected it with indignation. He was a Hindoo of the old school, and he vowed by Doorgah26, and the three hundred and thirty millions of gods they worship, that he would rather see her a corpse than think of marrying her a second time to any one. KOMOLINEE.—This case is similar to that of our Kaminee. ALICE.—Oh! you cannot conceive what privations she had to endure. Her father, being an orthodox Hindoo, scouted the idea of adopting any new-fangled system. “The traditions of our forefathers,” said he, “must be observed in all their rigid integrity, whatever the Inglified27 dram-drinking Young Bengals may think of them.” The poor girl committed suicide at last! KOMOLINEE.—Unfortunate creature!

25 Kulin, one of the upper-caste Bengali Hindus who traditionally could marry multiple times. 26 Durga, the mother goddess. 27 Anglicized, from “English”.

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KAMINEE.—My father holds precisely the same views, and it was with difficulty that he was persuaded to permit my visiting this house of his brother’s to enable me to pick up a little more of English, &c., while my cousins were prosecuting their studies. ALICE.—Well, I heartily pity you, Kaminee; but your father may in time change his opinion. All reforms must progress gradually, considering how much superstition and prejudices he has to overcome. KOMOLINEE.—I fear that will not be on this side of the grave. The leopard will sooner change his spots and the Ethiop his skin. PHOOL.—I have reason to believe that long before uncle reforms, Kaminee will be a married person. ALICE.—Indeed! that will certainly create a great sensation in baboodom—at least among the Hindoos of the old school. PHOOL.—Why there is an enlightened Baboo, Chunder Chatterjee, a very musical person, who is generally in the evenings under her window with a sitar, serenading English fashion!28 KAMINEE.—Oh! for shame, sister, I told you that he only sometimes passes our way; how do you know that he has any special regard for me, any more than for you? KOMOLINEE.—You need not disguise the fact. The story, though romantic, is a true one, and, perhaps, we shall hear of an elopement ere long, if uncle continues hard-hearted. PHOOL.—Why, as to hard-heartedness, Kaminee is chargeable with in it a greater degree than uncle, for disregarding the tender overtures and musical appeals of poor Chunder Baboo. KAMINEE.—So you are all determined to trump up a ridiculous story in spite of my protestations. You certainly possess great inventive powers.

28 An unlikely suggestion, even if allowing for teasing banter, because the sitar is too heavy an instrument to play while standing up, and because such a serenade could not have gone unheard or unnoticed in Calcutta’s crowded streets and lanes, immediately leading to social scandal.

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ALICE.—Oh! you need not blush to own it, Kaminee; you are an interesting creature, and what wonder if any unprejudiced intelligent baboo were smitten with your charms? KAMINEE.—For shame, Miss Alice. KOMOLINEE.—Another interesting matter, or affaire du cœur, as Miss Flash used to say, is likely to ooze out if you are not more cautious, Kaminee. ALICE.—Bless me! Is it so? KOMOLINEE.—Do you know Miss Alice that Kaminee, though our junior in years, is more advanced in music than any of us, although we pay handsome fees, and Kaminee is expected to pick up only odds and ends from us. KAMINEE.—You are in a tell-tale humour to-day, that is positive. ALICE.—Mr. Wilton, no doubt, takes unusual pains with Kaminee. PHOOL.—Oh! he is unremitting in his attentions. KAMINEE.—That is an exaggeration, sister Phool Coomaree. KOMOLINEE.—To whom, pray, does he generally present the roses, the geraniums, and the camalias [sic], which he sometimes brings with him on lesson days? KAMINEE.—Why, did not sister Phool Coomaree wear a rose only yesterday? KOMOLINEE.—Certainly, but that was plucked from the garden by our venerable Mally29. What would you have us infer from it? Besides, your sister Phool Coomaree does not understand the language of flowers so well as you do, I fancy. ALICE.—So then there is a good foundation for these surmises? PHOOL.—Evidently, but we are not surprised at Mr. Wilton’s partiality. Sister Kaminee is certainly a nice girl, and deserves all the attention.

29 māli, or gardener.

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ALICE.—Here comes Mr. Wilton, running up in breathless haste, I declare. Why, he has taken us all by surprise. [Enter Harry Wilton, with a nosegay.] HARRY WILTON.—Good day, ladies. How are you Alice? Kaminee, here is a bouquet for you. ALICE.—I must be going now. I have a pressing engagement, and have far exceeded my prescribed time here. HARRY WILTON.—Stay Alice, just a while. I have a great deal to speak to you. ALICE.—You must really excuse me, sir. I have no inclination to listen to you. You will be better engaged with the virgin widow and the music lessons. Good bye, girls; good bye, Mr. Butterfly beaux. (Exeunt.)

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ACT III. Scene. = Mansion-house of Baboo Sibnarain Banerjee. [KOMOLINEE, PHOOL COOMAREE, KAMINEE, AND WILTON, SEATED IN THE BOYTAKHANAH30, CONVERSING.] KOMOLINEE.—I am sorry Miss Alice left us so abruptly. PHOOL.—And I fear not in the best of humour. KOMOLINEE.—What could have given her umbrage? KAMINEE.—Impossible to say. Perhaps she was chagrined at Mr. Wilton’s delay. WILTON.—I am sorry to have given offence. She has no doubt a rod in pickle for me; but it is no use growing melancholy over the matter. I have brought some excellent music from Burkinyoung’s31 for you, Kaminee. You must practice them constantly. It is then that you will acquire a facility, and be regarded a good pianist. KAMINEE.—Thanks for the music. I will do my best to comply with your directions. KOMOLINEE.—Kaminee is very persevering and painstaking, and has improved vastly since she joined us. She was trying last evening the “Bengalee Baboo,” and played it sweetly enough to enchant Dave Carson!32 WILTON.—I have no fault to find with any of my scholars here. You and your sister, Phool Coomaree, have made marvellous progress, and I hope in a short time to make you all accomplished pianists. KAMINEE.—I have no such ambition. The prospect before me is cheerless. According to the dogmas of our religion, and the ruling of our

30 baithak-khānā, an outer sitting-room. The generic term gave its name to the locality in central Calcutta known as Boitaconnah in Anglicized spelling, where Alice’s carriage met with an accident (Act II). 31 A well-known music shop at that time. 32 Popular British entertainer who used to perform comic skits in Calcutta’s Opera House and billed himself as “the only Anglo-Indian comedian in the world”. In one of them, titled “Bengalee Baboo”, he mimicked Bengalis with his hit song beginning “I very good Bengali babu” in affected Babu English and accent.

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gooroos33, I must pine in perpetual widowhood, having lost my husband when young, so what avails my acquirements, or success in studies? WILTON.—What a monstrous religion! Contrary to all reason and philosophy: in fact it is no religion at all. It is Brahminical tyranny and superstition, and should be swept away by the besom of destruction, or stamped out by legislative enactment. KAMINEE.—Till then we must suffer the direst pangs, and endure the greatest privations. PHOOL.—Oh! don’t be getting so sombre and melancholy, sister Kaminee. Mr. Wilton may be able to cheer and comfort us with his advice. KOMOLINEE.—I have a presentiment that Kaminee’s trials and troubles will soon come to an end. PHOOL.—That looks like a prophetic declaration. WILTON.—Yes, if the sweet doves of Dodona have prophesied, it must come right, I think. KAMINEE.—Pray where are these prophetic birds to be found? WILTON.—The story is but a classic fable. The oracles of Pelasgic Zeus was [sic] situated among the oak groves of Dodona at the declivity of mount Tomaurus. The responses were made by three old women named Peliades. The word pelias signifies dove in the attic dialect. The story thus got about that the doves prophesied in the groves of Dodona. KAMINEE.—The fable is a charming one; but adds little comfort to a mind diseased like mine with cares and anxieties. KOMOLINEE.—Why should you despair as one without any hope? KAMINEE.—I must hope against hope then. PHOOL.—And we read somewhere that hope tells a flattering tale. KAMINEE.—This reminds me of Pandora’s box, which Miss Alice used to tell us was filled with all sorts of evils, with hope at the bottom. WILTON.—Yes, and but for that hope, which like an oasis in a desert comforts us in our trials, all girls in similar unfortunate position would be driven to utter despair, and end their existence by violent hands. PHOOL.—We know nothing of the future, and who can say what change may yet come over the determination of uncle. 33 gurus.

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WILTON.—Change or no change, some good, I think, will turn up at last. KOMOLINEE.—We sincerely trust some arrangements may be suggested to relieve her sorrows. KAMINEE.—Mahdob Baboo, who came on a visit to uncle’s, is, I see, coming this way. I fancy he wishes to meet you. WILTON.—Who is Mahdob Baboo? Is he a clerk of the High Court, an inveterate Brahmo? PHOOL.—Can’t say where he is employed, but we have heard that he is a staunch Brahmo. WILTON.—Oh! then I know him well, but what can he want with me here? KOMOLINEE.—He is very friendly and intimate with father, and may wish to consult you upon some subject. WILTON.—Well, it is time for you all to repair to the drawing-room to practice. I shall just speak to the Baboo a few words, and be with you directly. (Girls retire.) [Enter Mahdob Chunder Mookerjee.] MAHDOB.—How are you, Mr. Wilton? WILTON.—All serene, Baboo; glad to see you; hope you are salubrious. MAHDOB.—As sound as a roach. WILTON.—Anything particular to say? I have to instruct the girls in music; would you tarry a while till I am done? MAHDOB.—I am sorry I cannot. I have just a word to say. I have been asked to secure a person to play on the harmonium at the Mandir on Sunday during service. The gentleman who used to assist us has unexpectedly taken ill. Please say if you could undertake to come, and what remuneration would you take? WILTON.—We don’t take remuneration for divine service; but I could not think of going to the Mandir, and neglecting my own church. MAHDOB.—Why, what difference would it make? Could you not worship at the Mandir as you would at any of the Christian churches?

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WILTON.—By no means. There is an essential difference in our faith. The Theists say we cannot pray for temporal mercies or forgiveness from punishment of sin, because physical phenomena happen according to immutable laws, and God cannot deliver us from the punishment of guilt. MAHDOB.—Undoubtedly, the Brahmo idea of sin and punishment is that of cause and effect. Prayer may be offered for spiritual blessings only. WILTON.—There being such a fundamental difference in our views of prayer, how could you expect me to join you in the services of the Mandir? MAHDOB.—But the view I have presented to you is the more rational of the two, being founded on the rock of intuition. WILTON.—Not so fast, Mr. Brahmo. Your knowledge of things are intuitional, as you allege, but not rational, as I think; and each Brahmo may have his own intuition on any given subject as dissimilar as the human face divine! Brahmoism has no authoritative standard. Its tenets, its principles, and its doctrines are constantly changing. MAHDOB.—Is not the religion of the Christians also changing? Look at the various sects and heresies—see the changes in the Church of Rome. May it not be said of them— Manners with fortunes, humours turn with climes, Tenets with books, and principles with times.34

WILTON.—No; it is founded on a rock; and though assailed by adversaries these eighteen hundred years, its character is unchanged in spite of the differences of the various sects. MAHDOB.—Neither has Brahmoism changed its character if properly viewed. WILTON.—What its tenets and character are, and what they may be twelve months hence, it is difficult for you to say. Your leaders are trying by a process of eclecticism to concoct a pure system of theology, forgetting that such an attempt was made by Ammonius Saccus [sic], which eventually failed. Besides, you do not candidly acknowledge the source from which you borrow your principles and your doctrines. You may vaunt about their purity and sublimity, but where did you obtain them from? MAHDOB.—They are God’s truth. 34 From Alexander Pope, Moral Essays.

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WILTON.—Yes; but they were taken from God’s book, the Bible; and while you ignore all paper revelation, you do not scruple, like many modern Deists, to take very largely from that very paper revelation. MAHDOB.—Most of these are acknowledged truths, and the rest are discoverable by intuition, and would have been taught, as our theory became more developed. WILTON.—Would they, indeed? But let us change the topic. Who is going to lecture to-morrow at the Mandir? MAHDOB.—A worthy coadjutor of our well-known High Priest and leader. WILTON.—What has become of the Great Apostle of the Unitarian Mission? Was there not an offer to fraternize with you all? I understand an attempt was made to lead the Brahmos by a coup d’etat to the acceptance of a paper revelation and unitarianism; but the ruse was seen and avoided. MAHDOB.—That is a ridiculous canard. Read Rev. Dall’s lecture at Nynee Tal35 for a faithful exposition of the matter. WILTON.—Well, have you decided who is to preside at the harmonium? MAHDOB.—You have just reminded me of what I had nearly forgotten. Though unwilling, I must be off. WILTON.—Won’t you stay a wee bit, and hear our little concert. MAHDOB.—I should like it marvellously, as I understand your scholars are good pianists; but you know the exigency of the case. WILTON.—Harkee, friend, why don’t you propose to one of the as girls, you are an unmarried man? or you may marry the whole three. Are not your followers allowed this privilege? MAHDOB.—Heaven forbid! That would be too much of a good thing for a poor soul like me. The Brahmos are strictly monogamists. WILTON.—Well, then, take Komolinee, or Phool Coomaree. Won’t either of them suit?

35 Naini Tal in Uttarakhand. Rev. Charles Dall, an American Unitarian minister, lived in India for many years and was in charge of the Unitarian Society in Calcutta at this time. The Brahmo Samaj had ideological differences with him during his stay in Calcutta.

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MAHDOB.—I shall think over the matter, and, if need be, I shall seek your advice. So good bye for the present. WILTON.—Ta, ta, Mr. Celebs. I should like to see your intuitive progress towards discovery of the missing link. (Exeunt.)

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ACT IV. Scene. = Sitting-room in the Garden-house of Baboo Kistodone Banerjee. [KISTODONE BANERJEE, PEARY MOHUN BANERJEE, AND DOYAL CHUNDER SEAL, CONVERSING.] PEARY.—Have you seen the Mirror of this morning? It contains a spirited correspondence on the questio vexata, widow marriage, under the nom de plume of “Hymenæus.” DOYAL.—It is suspected that Madhob36 Mookerjee is the author of it. PEARY.—That is not unlikely. The writer suggests an appeal to the Legislature. DOYAL.—He may as well ask the Government to legislate as to the quantity of rice each Hindoo should consume daily. Would it not be more sensible to refer the matter for decision to the Sanatana Dharma Rakshini Sava?37 KISTODONE.—Depend on it that all this spasmodic zeal and tall writing will end in smoke. I have seen in my day when I was but a youngster like yourself many such patriots—the heroes of the hour—strut about their time on the stage of life, then drop off the scene, and accomplish changes as important as the whiggling of a cat’s tail. They might as well endeavor to set fire to an iceberg with the stump of a Manilla cigar! DOYAL.—From your experience, Kisto Baboo, you ought to know that reforms and radical changes cannot be effected in a day. To eliminate truth from decaying creeds must be the work of time. It is, however, a hopeful sign that the thin end of the wedge is struck in. KISTODONE.—Mere hallucination, my friend. What is it desired to effect? Do you think any good will result from the exertions of Miss Mary 36 The text returns to the spelling in the Dramatis Personae. 37 The Bharatavarshiya Sanatana Dharma Rakshani Sabha (literally “society to protect the ancient religion of India”) was founded in 1869 by “orthodox Hindus, for the maintenance of their ancient Doctrines” (Calcutta Directory, 5:42). The body opposed what it perceived as growing liberalism among Hindus.

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Carpenter, Miss Akroyd,38 and the lovely phalanx of female reformers? Hindooism is built on a foundation which no amount of missionary preachment, no pulpit oratory, nor the denunciations of bubbling patriots can shake. DOYAL.—Time will show. You have heard perhaps of the formation of the Bhowanipore Reform League.39 KISTODONE.—Yes, I have, and I am well aquainted [sic] with most of the members. They are a set of hot-headed Young Bengals, representatives of the typical Tunda Ghose,40 full of vanity and conceit. I wonder their parents, none of whom are of high connexions, allow them to run riot in all kinds of extravagance and wild speculations, and expose their silliness in attempting to carry out the most impracticable reforms. DOYAL.—You need not be so severe on these respectable men. If they do not belong to the upper strata of society, they are nevertheless the picked men of our educated class; and although the orthodox folks of the old school, sunk, as it were, in mediæval ignorance, unjustly malign them, and impugn their disinterested motives, they have received the smile and the encouragement of all enlightened and reformed Hindoos, and the approbation of European gentlemen. PEARY.—Yes, such gentlemen as have been cajoled by the affected English swagger of Young Bengal and their proclivity to sport japanned boots and Havanahs, and desire fondly to lionize them, as indeed some of this type have been lionized in England by misguided retired officers. KISTODONE.—While they possessed no merit beyond sporting black alpacca [sic] surtouts, hair parted English fashion, and a profusion of chain and seal.

38 Mary Carpenter (1807-77), English social worker, visited India and advocated female education. Annette Akroyd (1842-1929) came to Calcutta in 1872 and set up a school for women in 1873, the Hindu Mahila Vidyalaya, which created a schism between conservatives and progressives within the Brahmo Samaj. In 1875, Akroyd accused Keshub Sen of preaching liberal views but actually upholding orthodoxy. Both ladies hailed from Unitarian family backgrounds. 39 Bhowanipore is a locality in Calcutta. 40 Another allusion to Dave Carson’s song “Bengalee Baboo”, where this imaginary name appears. See footnotes 10 and 32.

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PEARY.—With a slight perfume of aqua vitæ. KISTODONE.—Oh! they are adepts in dipsomania. When sitting in grave conclave to consider the amelioration of their countrymen, and the social advancement of Hindoo females, they like a little water—iced water—weakened with brandy. DOYAL.—You are so madly bent upon detraction and scandal that you do not seem to recollect that some of the most respected of our class have been to England, and have deservedly obtained the highest renown you can conceive of, having been honored by Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen, and by Dean Stanley, Lord Lawrence, Earls and Bishops, and other distinguished notabilities of the country. And the lectures and discourses delivered by our countrymen there were always attended by crowds of the elite. PEARY.—These are exceptional cases, like a drop in the ocean. I fancy the lord you mention was distinguished for masterly inactivity while here.41 DOYAL.—Well, gentlemen, you cannot deny that in spite of your misrepresentation and irony the members of the club are unquestionably superior men to any of us here. PEARY.—Superior in what respect? I will just mention some of these “wise men of the East,” who compose your mutual admiration society. Koil ass Chunder Chatterjee is a chattering donkey; the more he chatters, the more he exposes his asinine qualities. Raj-Kiss-toe has risen in the world by flunkeyism and kissing the toe of the big bugs. Mudden Mohun is a mudden-headed noodle. Rogue-o-nauth is feathering his nest by dishonest shifts. Gobin Sane is not quite sane in his intellect. Greece Chunder is as fat witted as he is corpulent. Peary Mohun Soar, by his dissolute manners and profligate habits, has rendered himself a veritable soar. Butter-charjee Baboo knows well which side his bread is buttered, and that is all he cares about. Bow-wow-ni Churn is continually barking at the ruling powers, and trying to dogmatize, not knowing that dogmatism, as Jerrold says, is puppyism

41 Lord John Lawrence, Viceroy of India from 1863 to 1869, followed very cautious policies.

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come to maturity; and Ghost-o-beharry is but a ghost of a patriot, effiminate [sic] in voice, weak in intellect, and attenuated in person.42 KISTODONE.—By Kally43, Peary, your attack is like the double extract of a compound avalanche. DOYAL.—That is enough, Peary Baboo. The mere mention of the new society appears to have had the effect of a red rag upon a bull. This is a premeditated attack, which you must have been coining over at night. You are an incorrigible punster, no doubt, and ought to be on the staff of the Busuntuck, or Colonel Wyndham’s Indian Charivari;44 but your foregone conclusions, and all the scurillous things you have said, cannot detract one iota from the merits of the worthy men you have maliciously attempted to vilify. PEARY.—I have not graduated in the school of hero-worship, nor can I adore your over-rated men, so I leave you to the gratification of your apotheosis, with all the veneration you like; but you cannot be ignorant of what a keen satirist has said about a “sainted ass and canonized ape.” DOYAL.—Youroutrageous attack upon your own race, Peary, realizes to my mind something of the repulsion of affinities. I cannot understand what has riled you and led you to the use of unparliamentary language. You are not warranted in being so relentlessly severe on them. Whatever may be the divergence of our views, and conflict of our interests, we are one in nationality. If you are so unsparing, what must we not expect from the European community? It is an ill bird that fouls its own nest. PEARY.—I was sick of hearing your fulsome flattery of these would be reformers, and a re-action took place; besides you goaded me on to give you a bit of my mind, and you intensified my ill-feeling by your attack on the venerable institutions of our country, which you should have reverenced. 42 Punning on the italicized syllables in the names of Kailas, Rajkrishna (in Bengali often Rajkishto), Madan, Raghunath, Sen, Girish, Sur (with another pun on the Indian word suwar = pig), Bhattacharya (or Bhattacharjee), Bhabani (or Bhawani) and Goshthabihari. 43 Kali, the goddess. 44 Basantak, the pioneering Bengali cartoon magazine, began publication in 1874. Percy Wyndham started his comic newspaper The Indian Charivari in Calcutta in 1872, modelled on Punch.

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DOYAL.—Among the educated class, in which I include you and my respected friend Baboo Kistodone, there cannot be two opinions in the present day as to the decay of our old creed and the receding darkness of ancient times before the sun of Western civilization. KISTODONE.—They are all chimerical notions—maudlin reveries of crazy enthusiasts. DOYAL.—I am surprised that you should be so strong in your prejudice, as I find your younger brother, Baboo Sibnarain, is a thoroughly reformed man. He has no objection to educate his daughters in English by Christian people, and has not yet got them married according to Hindoo custom, although one is over 18 years of age, and the other 17; and if I mistake not, even your daughter Kaminee, known as the virgin widow, is frequently among them. KISTODONE.—I suffered Kaminee to go to her cousins just to pick up a little English and music; especially as she seemed to be very fond of the latter, and had made considerable progress in the former before the death of her husband. DOYAL.—I don’t wish to stand forward as a fault-finder; but I don’t think a young widow like Kaminee has any thing to do with such accomplishments according to the prescriptive and ancient usages of Hindoo society. But since you have been so liberal in your conduct towards your child—and I commend you sincerely for it—I have a proposition to make in respectof [sic] her. KISTODONE.—What proposition? Have you discovered any thing wrong in her virtue? By Kally! she shall be expelled from my domicile at once. DOYAL.—You need not be exasperated unnecessarily. There is no stigma on her character. You know Chunder? KISTODONE.—Well, what about him? DOYAL.—He is of respectable parents, and expects a handsome reversion. He isveryintelligent, kind-hearted, andhaslately been transferred to the Financial Department on a salary of Rs. 450 per mensem. KISTODONE.—I have heard of all these; but what have they to do with the subject-matter of our conversation?

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DOYAL.—I am a friend of his, and he has importuned me to convey to you a serious message, and intercede on his behalf. KISTODONE.—That is strange. What can he mean? DOYAL.—Why the long and the short of it is he wants to marry Kaminee, and set a noble example to his countrymen. KISTODONE.—That is impossible: noble or ignoble, I will listen to no such foolish overtures. I hope he does not wish to insult me. Does he imagine this proposed alliance can seduce me to abandon the religion of my forefathers? DOYAL.—I do not think there is any disgrace attaching to such a course. On the contrary, you will confer a great blessing on your daughter, promote the happiness of my friend Chunder, and be held up as a praiseworthy example to posterity. KISTODONE.—Nothing will tempt me to change my resolution. I would rather see her die. I must prevent her visits to her cousins at once. DOYAL.—There is no occasion for it. Chunder seldom visits your brother’s house; but I wish you to consider the misery and wretchedness you entail upon your child by your cruel determination. KISTODONE.—That is what our religion requires. You might as well talk of misery, because our religion interdicts the eating of beefsteaks and pork chops! DOYAL.—You are inclined to be jocular, but I did not intend any such absurdity. KISTODONE.—Well, our rule, as you know, is—like the laws of Maids and Prussians, as Sairy Gamp45 says—unalterable, so you will get nothing by your motion. But I must go to Ram Loll to settle a legacy, so I will leave you with my nephew, Peary Banerjee. He will give you some more of his studied puns and ready-cooked lampoons. Good bye. (Exit Kistodone.) DOYAL.—Well, Peary, joking apart, will you not befriend Chunder, and put in a word for him? PEARY.—If I have so soon changed my views, my conversion must be more miraculous than St. Paul’s of the Christians. But supposing I was not 45 Sarah Gamp in Dickens’s Martin Chuzzlewit.

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opposed to widow marriage, I do not think my persuasion would be of any avail, as I have heard some strange stories, which I have not communicated yet to my uncle, but which extinguishes [sic] all chance of Chunder’s success. DOYAL.—I am really very sorry for it. PEARY.—This is about the time for Kaminee to return from her cousins, and I intend to question her a bit. DOYAL.—Has she heard aught against the character of my friend? PEARY.—No; but her predilections point to another to the detriment of your friend. DOYAL.—She sees no one, unless it be some Christian ladies and gentlemen who visit her cousins to instruct. PEARY.—I believe Kaminee has just returned. I hear her talking to the cook maid. DOYAL.—Well, I will leave you to question her while I go to console my friend Chunder. PEARY.—The best thing he can do is to propose to one of Kaminee’s cousins, Komolinee or Phool Coomaree, both of whom are well accomplished. DOYAL.—He has already had a significant hint to that effect from another quarter, and I will certainly suggest it also, and persuade him to give up all ideas about Kaminee. So I had better skedaddle. Good bye. (Exit Doyal.) [Enter Kaminee.] PEARY.—Well, Kaminee, just returned, are you? KAMINEE.—Yes, but I will have to go again to-morrow for some particular exercise. PEARY.—Does Mr. Wilton call every day? KAMINEE.—No, but he desired me to call at uncle’s to-morrow. PEARY.—I don’t think you will be allowed to go any more. Have you ever seen Chunder Baboo, or conversed with him? KAMINEE.—Never conversed with him, but he sometimes passes our way, and young Kisto knows him well. PEARY.—Would you like to marry him?

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KAMINEE.—What made such a wild idea enter your mind? Are young widows ever allowed to marry? PEARY.—Of course not, but I simply asked, in case your father should alter his determination. KAMINEE.—Oh! that is impossible. PEARY.—But shouldn’t you like to marry Chunder? KAMINEE.—Certainly not. If father changes his resolve, I should prefer somebody else. PEARY.—Why, you don’t know any body else. Has any one made you any proposals? KAMINEE.—No proposals, but— PEARY.—But what? KAMINEE.—Well, never mind. PEARY.—Are you advancing in your music lessons? KAMINEE.—Yes, I have had some new pieces presented to me by our music master. PEARY.—He seems to like you, does he not? KAMINEE.—Perhaps a little. PEARY.—Does he often present you with flowers? KAMINEE.—Occasionally. PEARY.—Which means every time he comes? KAMINEE.—I cannot prevent his being kind to me. PEARY.—But he will never marry you. KAMINEE.—I didn’t tell you that he proposed such a thing. PEARY.—There are insurmountable obstacles on both sides, and I must suggest to your father the propriety of preventing your visits to your cousins any more. Mr. Wilton is only trifling with you, as I know for a certainty he is going to marry Miss Alice, one of his own race, and a very accomplished lady. KAMINEE.—Heaven only knows what is in reserve for me. PEARY.—Come, let us retire. (Exeunt.)

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ACT V. Scene. = Dalhousie Square, moon-light. [ALICE AND WILTON CONVERSING NEAR THE EAST ENTRANCE.] WILTON.—I was most anxious to meet you, Alice, in the square after Monsieur Zeigler’s concert, and I am glad you have thought of taking a moon-light stroll before returning home, as you left us rather abruptly the other day, and I don’t know whether the explanation I have since given in my note respecting my alleged regard for the virgin widow was satisfactory. ALICE.—I don’t think “a momentary lark,” as you term your undue attention, would sufficiently explain your very apparent bias for the girl, and your protestation is evidently an after-thought; for you must have heard that your apt scholar has been interdicted by her father from visiting her cousins any more, and that consequently you have but little chance of carrying on your flirtation. WILTON.—Flirtation! If all my solemn declarations are of no avail, I must really despair ever to set myself right with you. ALICE.—I cannot understand how you could have been so weak as to expose yourself to the observations of even little children by your indiscreet conduct, unless it be that love is blind. Your predilection was too obvious. WILTON.—No person has any right to put such an unwarrantable construction on my conduct. How could any one think that I was courting her? Could I possibly ever change like Shaik Melville46, and marry her? ALICE.—You cannot deny you used to look unusually sweet on her. WILTON.—Could any one, not absolutely a maniac, ever prefer a raw Indian girl to one so accomplished and charming as yourself. ALICE.—So, Mr. Strephon,47 are you coming the old dodge over me? The ruse is too apparent. You may cajole raw Indian girls with such chaff, but— 46 Probably alluding to Sir John Melvil in The Clandestine Marriage (1766), a comedy by George Colman the elder and David Garrick. 47 Synonymous with a rustic lover, from the name of the shepherd in Philip Sidney’s Arcadia.

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WILTON.—By heavens, Alice, don’t drive me mad with your insinuations. My honorable intentions towards you are well known to your parents; and they have not only accepted my offer, but have uniformly treated me with kindness. ALICE.—It was a very unworthy return then you made to them when you lavished all your admiration on a dingy beauty. WILTON.—Bad luck. We are interrupted. Komolinee and Phool Coomaree, who were at the concert, have taken into their heads to walk out also here, and I declare Baboo Chunder too! [Komolinee and Phool Coomaree promenading near the south angle of the tank.] ALICE.—Is he the suitor of Komolinee and your rival in the affections of the virgin widow? WILTON.—Darn all the rivals. The virgin widow loved him as much as she did a soondry [sic] post, although he used to serenade her nightly. And see what real regard he has manifested, when, in the time of her trial, he forsakes her and applies for the hand of her cousin, Komolinee. ALICE.—Really this is something like the controversy between the pot and kettle. By your professions to me, if real, you have also abandoned Kaminee in the time of her affliction, and have acted no better than Chunder. WILTON.—There is no analogy between our cases. I never went playing the sitar under her window. ALICE.—And yet the presentation of flowers and bouquets to the virgin widow, in preference to other girls present, showed as much of your devotedness, I think. WILTON.—Well, I won’t defend myself, but here are Komolinee and Phool Coomaree come to meet you. (The trio approaching.) ALICE.—Well, Komolinee and Phool Coomaree, I am glad you were at this concert. WILTON.—It shows your appreciation of music. ALICE.—Did Chunder Baboo come along with you to the concert?

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KOMOLINEE.—Yes, he is partial to music. He plays on the sitar, but knows little of English music. WILTON.—Well, how are you, Chunder? If you have any taste for music, you must have been well repaid for your trouble. The programme was strongly cast, and some of our best musical dilettante took part in the entertainment. ALICE.—Pray, Komolinee, what is the news? What about Kaminee? Do you ever hope to see her? KOMOLINEE.—I really don’t know what to say. Things look very gloomy at present. Two days after she was prohibited coming to our quarters, she disappeared. A strict search is being instituted, and it is expected she will be found in the residence of some of our relations or neighbours. CHUNDER.—At present she is non est inventus, as penny-a-liners generally say. PHOOL.—Uncle has brought on all these troubles and disgrace by his deep-rooted prejudice and obstinate determination. I hope she has not taken any desperate step. ALICE.—I understand your uncle not only interdicted her going to your quarters, but would not even accept the offers of a certain baboo of respectability for a matrimonial alliance. KOMOLINEE.—And poor Kaminee was treated at home since the affair with great indignities and severities. ALICE.—I shouldn’t be surprised to hear that she has betaken to a course of infamy and shame with an abandon equal to her desperate case, if indeed she has not adopted the dernier resort which native females generally embrace under such circumstances. I mean self-destruction. WILTON.—I think the unnatural father had better advertise in all the local papers, offering a handsome reward to any one who will restore the girl. CHUNDER.—He should not allow grass to grow under his feet, but give notice to the Police immediately about the missing girl, giving a full description of her person, age, &c. WILTON.—I should like very much to know who spirited her away. ALICE.—That is very natural.

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WILTON.—No more of that Alice; the affair demands more sorrow than satire. KOMOLINEE.—I just over-heard Prankissen Baboo talking to Beharry Loll [sic] Dey about Kaminee, and I think Mr. Wilton might ask him for some information. It will save us a great deal of care, and the news might relieve uncle of much of his anxieties. PHOOL.—There, Beharry Baboo is coming this way; now is the time. WILTON.—How do you do, Beharry? Having a moon-light walk? How did you like the concert? Was it not a great success? All went off well, I think. BEHARRY.—Excepting the impudence of a couple of fops, who were grimacing and gesticulating—sometimes cocking up their quizzing glasses, sometimes tittivating their moustaches and striving to affect the languid swell. CHUNDER.—Such nuisances are always to be met with in all public gatherings. ALICE.—They are sometimes to be seen even in our religious meetings. WILTON.—Well, did you not bring them down to their bearings? CHUNDER.—If we attempt to cast stones on dirt, we are sure to get a splashing. BEHARRY.—I was saved this disaster, as a stout sexagenarian colonel, of the zubberdust48 type, with terrific whiskers, sitting near me, rated them roundly, and they collapsed, but not till they had insulted the daughter of Revd. B. L. Dey49 by leering her out of countenance, and talking some

48 zabardast, from Hindustani, meaning forceful, proactive. 49 No doubt an error, for Beharry Lall Dey himself is speaking. Besides, he uses the honorific “Revd.”, which cannot apply to him, as he is introduced in the Dramatis Personae as a “Hindoo Reformer”. The slip could have been due to the fact that this character’s name is the only one that corresponds closely to a living person’s: Rev. Lal Behari Day (1824-92), an eminent Calcutta citizen, Christian priest and literary figure. There seems to have been some careless haste in concluding the play, because we also find no stage direction announcing Beharry’s entrance.

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gibberish beyond the comprehension of native female girls, although the lady I allude to is one of the best girls of the Bethune School.50 ALICE.—Of course they are not taught any slang there, nor do they care about flash terms, which give such a piquancy to the vapid inanities of snobs and fast men. WILTON.—Have you, Beharry Baboo, heard any strange news? BEHARRY.—What about? In these progressive times, when psychic force and spiritualism are the orders of the day, and comets and planetary transits are cropping up, we have strange news every day. ALICE.—Mr. Wilton alludes, I think, to the mysterious disappearance of Kaminee, who is commonly known as the “virgin widow,” the unfortunate daughter of Baboo Kistodone Banerjee. BEHARRY.—Why, yes, I heard a great deal about this virgin widow before Icame to the concert here, and have since received further intelligence from a reliable source: in fact from a gentleman who has visited the house where she is harbouring at present. ALICE.—It is very comforting to know that she has not been driven to adopt any desperate measures, and is yet in the land of the living. CHUNDER.—Perhaps you will kindly oblige us all, and clear up the mystery a little. You cannot conceive what a load of oppression you will remove from our minds. BEHARRY.—I don’t think there is any necessity to make a secrecy of the matter. Kaminee, the virgin widow, is in the house of the Revd. Shama Churn Mookerjee, an ex-student of the Bishop’s College, but now located in Hastings.51 He is a friend and kinsman of her father, and knows the family intimately. When the father prohibited her visits to the uncle, taxed her about some scandalous rumours, and began to treat her withgreatrigour, the poor girl was obliged to fly to the house of the Revd. Mookerjee, a brother of her deceased mother, where she hopes to be treated with more consideration and kindness, and have for her companions his amiable daughters, who are members of Christian churches. Ere long she may possibly cast in her lot with them. 50 Famous in Calcutta as the first formal school for girls from elite Indian families. 51 A locality in Calcutta.

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KOMOLINEE.—But can she continue there against her father’s will? CHUNDER.—No; she can be brought up under the Habeas Corpus Act, or, as Sam Weller says, “Have his carcass act.”52 ALICE.—And according to the “Majority Bill” just passed by the Legislature,53 she is an infant, and cannot act for herself, being only 15. WILTON.—But I think a simple application from the father will induce the padree54 to deliver over the virgin widow without forcing him to have recourse to law, which is an expensive luxury. BEHARRY.—Well, ladies and gentlemen, you need not bewilder yourselves with idle speculations. The father has had a long conference with the padree, and matters have been amicably settled. ALICE.—Is the virgin widow to live with the family of the padree? KOMOLINEE.—And die a virgin widow? PHOOL.—Or become a Christian? ALICE.—Or is she to return to her paternal mansion and suffer all the privations and wretchedness as before? BEHARRY.—I should have had as many heads as Doorgah has hands be to able to answer all the queries simultaneously. Well, to be brief, the mutual friends hadmanyangrydebates—longandstormydiscussions. Logic and metaphysics, morality and expediency, Brahmoism and Hindooism, were all brought into requisition. WILTON.—That must have been a most dreadful combat. CHUNDER.—Intellectual and bloodless of course. ALICE.—Was it not something like bedlam let loose? BEHARRY.—Oh! no, not quite so sensational as that. The bigot was a foeman worthy of the padree’s steel. There were many passes and rebuffs, fencings and wardings, hits and counter hits, but the friend prevailed over the father. ALICE.—I trust the father has been convinced now of the evil consequences of his cruel determination.

52 In Dickens’s The Pickwick Papers. 53 The Legislative Council passed the Indian Majority Bill in 1874. It became an Act in 1875. 54 padre.

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CHUNDER.—Oh! it was shewn to him as with a sun-beam by many intelligent and disinterested friends that the ancient superstition and time honored prejudices of the orthodox Hindoos were the chief causes of the disorgainzed [sic] condition of our society, and the low status of morality among our Hindoo females. WILTON.—It is most inhuman and unnatural to doom a girl to perpetual widowhood. Burning as a suttee was scarcely worse. PHOOL.—Oh! horrid indeed. KOMOLINEE.—Most strange, too, that uncle could not be persuaded to change his resolution. BEHARRY.—Well, the up-shot of the conference is that Kaminee, the virgin widow, is to remain with the family of the Revd. Mookerjee for good. She may be required some times to go and see her father, but such visits will of course be like angels’ visits, few and far between. She is to have no intercourse with any strange men. ALICE.—Hard lot indeed. I hope she may be induced to embrace Christianity. BEHARRY.—That is as certain as effect follows cause. Well, Chunder, I must congratulate you on the happy termination of your affairs. You are aware that I cannot be ignorant of what has transpired in the house of Sibnarain Baboo. I have heard of your proposal and acceptance, and have no doubt that Komolinee will realize the ideal you have been picturing to yourself of a good wife. CHUNDER.—Thanks for your good wishes. BEHARRY.—The same good feelings I must express towards you, Mr. Wilton, and Miss Alice. I trust the happy day is not far distant when your felicity will be completed. WILTON.—I must return you our unfeigned acknowledgments. The day has not been fixed yet, but before another month, I hope we shall be united. BEHARRY.—While the heart expands with unspeakable joy at the prospect of your approaching happiness, that joy is dashed with sorrow when we reflect upon the wretched condition of Kaminee, the virgin widow, and all young widows in the same category—and their name is legion. Oh!

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that our countrymen would be roused up to see the tremendous curse this perpetual widowhood is. The zealous reformers and reconstructors of Hindoo society, the pioneers of civilization and benefactors of the race, should unite together—for in union is strength—to extirpate this hydra headed evil from our community. (Exeunt.)

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