Part 1

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_CARLYON SAHIB_

_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

ANDROMACHE

A Play in Three Acts

LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN 21 Bedford Street, W.C.

_CARLYON SAHIB_

_A DRAMA_

_In Four Acts_

_By_

_GILBERT MURRAY_

_LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN_

_MDCCCC_

_PREFATORY NOTE_

_This play was written at Viareggio in 1893, and passed an eventful though not unchequered existence for six years before it was produced by Mrs. Patrick Campbell at the Princess of Wales' Theatre, Kennington, on June 19, 1899. The version here published is not exactly that which was acted, though it is much nearer to the acted version than to the original play as it stood before I had the benefit of Mrs. Campbell's vivid and helpful criticism._

_I may remark here that the Play never had the ghost of a glimmer of a conscious political allusion in it; nor did it occur to me, when I put my Napoleonic hero in the surroundings which seemed to give most scope to his autocratic and unscrupulous genius, that any sane person would suppose that I wished to attack the Indian Civil Service. The plays on my bookshelves teem with villains of the most diverse professions, from kings and clergymen--chiefly, I must confess, Roman Catholics or Dissenters--to lawyers and journalists. I do not think I should chafe at the appearance of a villanous Professor of Greek. And on the whole I cannot help hoping that those of my critics and friends who adopted a high patriotic tone against this play, will upon reflection be inclined to agree that their imperial sensitiveness was a little overstrained._

_GILBERT MURRAY._

_DRAMATIS PERSONÆ_

THE RIGHT HON. SIR } _Sometime Chief Commissioner of Rajpor,_ DAVID CARLYON } _and formerly Political Agent in Bhojâl._

VERA CARLYON _His daughter: student of Medicine at Zurich._ ELIZABETH _A friend, acting as housekeeper to the Carlyons._ ADENE _A young writer on philological subjects._ DR. RHEINHARDT _A medical professor at the University of Zurich._ SELIM _A former servant of Sir David Carlyon._

A TRAINED NURSE A MANSERVANT A PUNKAH-BOY

(CARLYON _is a man approaching sixty, strong, genial, eagle-eyed_; ELIZABETH, _a nice-looking though slightly haggard elderly lady, with white hair, very quiet in demeanour_; RHEINHARDT, _a short man with an excitable manner and bristly iron-grey hair_.)

_The First Three Acts take place in Carlyon's country house in England._ _The Fourth Act in a bungalow in the Ghautgherry Hills, India._

_Carlyon is pronounced like the two words "car-lion," the accent being on the_ i. _The Indian form Kaliena, has the_ i _long and accented, the other syllables short_.

CARLYON SAHIB

THE FIRST ACT

SIR DAVID CARLYON'S _country house_; VERA'S _sitting-room. Window right, behind window a curtain on a rod projecting into the room and forming a recess. By window table strewn with books and papers. The books chiefly foreign, with paper backs. On another table a very large birdcage covered with a tablecloth. Doors in the left corner of the back wall, and in the side wall, right._

ELIZABETH _discovered sitting in a large chair in the recess_. VERA _holding an ophthalmoscope_.

ELIZABETH.

Am I sitting right, dear?

VERA.

Yes, that's it. Just the same as before. [_Drawing the curtain so as to darken the recess._] Now, I must let the light fall full on your eye--just for a minute. Don't wink. That's all; now you can go right into the dark again, Elizabeth. [ELIZABETH _comes out rubbing her eyes_.] I'm afraid it hurt; it is so kind of you!

ELIZABETH.

Not at all, dear. And it is all right as soon as I get into the dark again.

VERA.

Should you like to see what the end of your optic nerve is like? There! [_Showing plate in a book._

ELIZABETH.

Dear me, Vera; is there anything wrong with me?

VERA.

Not a thing! That's a picture of a typical healthy eye. You are quite uninteresting, you and Father both!

ELIZABETH.

I don't see how _his_ eyes can be uninteresting.

VERA.

From Dr. Rheinhardt's point of view, quite. Here are two abnormal ones. See how different they are from yours.

ELIZABETH.

[_Without interest._] Yes, dear. [_Hesitating._] I was wondering----

VERA.

You see the depression of that line? That man died insane in two years. If ever one saw that, one would know---- [_Breaks off._] What did you say?

ELIZABETH.

That poor bird: I wondered if I might feed him in here, where it's warm?

VERA.

[_Suspiciously._] What are you going to feed him with?

ELIZABETH.

[_Apologetically._] Well, you see, Vera, he is really ill. He won't eat anything at all unless it's alive.

VERA.

Then you can't feed him in my room!

ELIZABETH.

Very well, dear. [_Goes and takes the great cage._] Do you know, Vera, I think you are really a little unkind about my eagles.

VERA.

I can't think why father ever gave you such horrid things!

ELIZABETH.

I dare say I shouldn't care for them so much if he hadn't given them to me. But really, Vera, they are such splendid great things, with their fierce eyes----

VERA.

Oh, their looks are magnificent; it's their habits! But I must get to work again.

[_Turns to the table and opens a book_; ELIZABETH _is moving towards the door back, when enter_ SERVANT, U.L.

SERVANT.

If you please, ma'am, a gentleman asking for Sir David.

ELIZABETH.

Oh!

[_Moving towards door_ R. _with evident wish to escape_.

VERA.

Don't run away, Elizabeth.

ELIZABETH.

I think I must, dear. [_Exit_ ELIZABETH.

VERA.

I cannot see any one till five.

[ADENE _appears behind_ SERVANT _in doorway_.

ADENE.

I beg your pardon, Miss Carlyon, I only wanted to ask----

VERA.

My father is not at home. Why, surely it isn't----? [_Rises._

ADENE.

Yes, it is!

VERA.

Mr. Adene! How stupid of me! But you've changed a great deal!

ADENE.

I wrote to Sir David. Didn't he tell you?

VERA.

Father has been away for three days. No doubt I forwarded your letter to him.

ADENE.

Without recognising the handwriting? [VERA _motions him to a chair and sits_.] When will he be back?

VERA.

This afternoon.

ADENE.

I am glad. I want to ask him for some advice and some introductions. I'm going to India.

VERA.

What!

ADENE.

The fact is, I feel rather run down, and I'm going to take a holiday--with a little work to fill in spare moments.

VERA.

I know your idea of a holiday: twelve hours a day at a new subject instead of ten at an old one!

ADENE.

I'm going to Rajpoor, your father's old province: and I want specially to get up into the mountains, to the scene of his great exploits.

VERA.

To Bhojâl! You'll find that difficult. But why in the world are you going?

ADENE.

You know I've been working for some years at Indian dialects?

VERA.

Yes; you sent us your book. Father said he couldn't imagine where you had learnt all those languages.

ADENE.

Where? Why at "Stratford-atte-Bow!" [VERA _looks inquiringly_.] More precisely at Limehouse. All nationalities come in course of time to London Docks. But Bhojâli is my last acquisition--since my book. I came across my Bhojâli by accident a year ago. And now I can talk pretty well with him.

VERA.

Then, all the more, why go to Bhojâl?

ADENE.

Well, you see, it is history rather than philology that I have in mind for the moment.

VERA.

Not the history of Bhojâl?

ADENE.

The history of the Indian Frontier--from the native's point of view!

VERA.

Do you mean an account of the various small wars?

ADENE.

Well, chiefly all that came before the wars; the intrigues, and the motives----

VERA.

Isn't it all in the Blue Books?

ADENE.

Of course, but the point is---- [_Pauses with a smile._

VERA.

Don't be afraid!

ADENE.

If you take the Blue Books, the natives always seem to be in the first place treacherous criminals----

VERA.

Which savages often are.

ADENE.

And also insanely blind to their own interests; which even savages are not! [VERA _laughs as if beaten_.] I know the English mind already; I want to get inside the Bhojâli mind.

VERA.

It is like the programme of a Baboo Protection Society. I hope the officials will like it.

ADENE.

I have thought of that. But I know too much of India to be even suspected of thinking ill of the officials. And Sir David's recommendation will soften them.

VERA.

"Please give bearer every facility for attacking the reputation of my late colleagues;" is that it?

ADENE.

[_Rising._] I don't want to attack any one! Of course there may be cases. If I met an actual instance of foul play on our part----

VERA.

[_Mockingly._] "Foul play!" It is to be as bad as that?

ADENE.

I suppose even Englishmen have occasionally done wrong?

VERA.

And you go there expecting to find crimes committed by English officers?

ADENE.

In some cases, I am afraid--or if not crimes----

VERA.

How considerate of you to begin with Bhojâl!

ADENE.

[_Sitting, in amused impatience._] Oh, let us start fair again! I begin with Bhojâl because a certain Sir David Carlyon was the Political Agent there, a gentleman who was afterwards Chief Commissioner of the province of Rajpoor.

VERA.

Don't be ironical!

ADENE.

Everybody who has heard of India has heard of his marvellous power of governing; also, everybody knows that if ever there was a war forced upon us against our will, it was the war of the annexation of Bhojâl.

VERA.

And then?

ADENE.

Then, I want to begin my studies with the best possible instance.

VERA.

[_After fidgeting for a moment._] Well, it makes me somewhat impatient. Suppose you do discover that in the summer of 1820 an English major threw a bootjack at his syce?

ADENE.

Forcing an unjust war on a weak tribe is a different thing from misdirecting a bootjack.

VERA.

How are you to know the war was unjust? The people who made it had full knowledge. You come to judge them with very imperfect knowledge; and you appeal to the public, which has no knowledge at all!

ADENE.

[_Shaking his head._] When I write a book there is no danger of its appealing to the public.

VERA.

That is shirking! Besides, _I_ am the public and it _did_ appeal to me.

ADENE.

Let Sir David deal with me! He did more for the natives than I am likely to ask.

VERA.

Agreed! But it's five o'clock.

[_Goes from table to small book-case with books._

ADENE.

[_Rising._] Let me help! Where does this go?

[_Touching the ophthalmoscope._

VERA.

That is very precious! [_Takes it and puts it down on table_ R.] But I'll tell you one thing more. Father has made things harder for the ordinary officials, especially for residents. It is practically impossible to come up to his standard. A man who first conquered and then ruled the most savage and turbulent tribes in India without ever letting his lowest subordinate do an oppressive act, a man with that extraordinary power of making others obey him----

[_She is now back again at the table and does not see_ CARLYON, _who enters at this moment_.

CARLYON.

[_Genially._] Who is this paragon, Vera?

VERA.

Father! [_Goes to him._

CARLYON.

[_Continuing._] Ah, Adene, you are most welcome! So you've taken my answer for granted. That's right.

ADENE.

I thought I might venture. I have so little time before starting for India. [_They shake hands._

CARLYON.

You must give us all you can spare of it. It must be two years since we were all at Rothesay.

ADENE.

Miss Carlyon actually did not know me.

VERA.

For the first instant!

CARLYON.

At any rate she has resumed the friendship where it was broken off. Making you tidy her books, I see, and scolding you as you do it!

[ADENE _continues putting the books away_.

ADENE.

I interrupted her; and worse, she took me for a champion of the Baboo!

CARLYON.

She never forgives an interruption. That is why I always have the general tea in her room. By-the-bye, Vera, before I forget, you're to give away the prizes at the Y.M.C.A. Shooting Club.

VERA.

Oh, Father, when?

CARLYON.

Thursday next: eleven A.M. It'll take most of the day. But what is this about India and the black man? I heard noble sentiments as I came in.

VERA.

Mr. Adene says that he expects to find----

ADENE.

That _if_ I find a British official guilty of unfair behaviour----

VERA.

Foul play!

ADENE.

I shall report the action.

VERA.

Attack the man.

ADENE.

You have heard us both.

VERA.

I want you to make him feel the difficulties.

ADENE.

And I claim that you for one have conquered the very worst difficulties without ever acquiescing in wrong to a native.

CARLYON.

[_Coolly; sitting down in chair by the tea-table._] Both of you wrong, quite wrong. I never knew any real difficulties, and I often wrong people--natives and others. What do you call a wrong?

ADENE.

Roughly, anything you wouldn't do to an Englishman in England.

CARLYON.

Any objection to murder, for instance?

ADENE.

[_Smiling._] Ah, but seriously, a general attitude----

CARLYON.

I have condoned murders occasionally. On the whole I am not sure we have enough of them. I have often wished to see a man knocked on the head when nobody would do it.

[_Turns chair facing_ ADENE.

_Enter_ SERVANT _with tea, and exit again_.

VERA.

[_To_ ADENE, _laughing_.] Prepare to receive shocks!

CARLYON.

Oh, Adene knows of old how unregenerate I am. But I've said as much as that to an interviewer!

ADENE.

There are certainly people I should like to see removed----

CARLYON.

Well, I'll tell you. Once when I was at---- I wish somebody would give me tea! Where's Elizabeth?

VERA.

[_To_ CARLYON, _taking possession of the tea-table_.] Be patient! [_To_ ADENE.] Now you've done us a service. We can never make him talk about himself.

CARLYON.

Well, I won't say where I was, it might implicate people; but there was a poor fellow, a villager, there, called Natthu, who was in the power of a money-lender. You know the sort of man?

_Enter_ ELIZABETH, R., _with her left hand wrapped, negligently in a handkerchief. She comes first up to the tea-table, and then retires to the back of the room._

ADENE.

The worst in the world! I admit occasional murdering may do them good. [_Takes tea._

CARLYON.

It wasn't the money-lender this time! It was a policeman. Natthu had a wife and one daughter about twelve. Well, at last the money-lender was going to carry off his standing corn.

[ELIZABETH _comes forward so as to look at_ ADENE. VERA _beckons her to come and pour out the tea. She declines and retires back again._

ADENE.

Sheer ruin, of course.

CARLYON.

Starvation. Natthu was in despair, when the policeman came round one night and offered to get the money-lender sent to prison if Natthu would let him have his daughter, and he gave her.

ADENE.

But he had no power to get the man imprisoned?

CARLYON.

None in the world of course! In a few days down came the money-lender to cut the corn, and the policeman with him to see no resistance was made. Natthu reproached him; the policeman laughed, and said he could now have the girl back if he liked! Thank you! [_Receiving tea, from_ VERA.

ADENE.

The brute!

CARLYON.

Next day but one the brute was found in a ditch with his head off. And I don't mind telling you I smuggled Natthu and his wife out of the country.

ADENE.

He could hardly have been hanged.

CARLYON.

Possibly not.

[VERA _offers_ ELIZABETH _tea; she comes and takes it and retires again_.

ADENE.

Then why couldn't you let him take his trial?

CARLYON.

He'd have been murdered by the policeman's relations, and his wife with him. They had a shot at me as it was. Now are you going to attack me?

ADENE.

I'm not sure. Couldn't you have had him tried first and then sent him off?

CARLYON.

Too dangerous! And there were other reasons too. Anyhow I thought of it, and determined I had better not.

ADENE.

I'm not clear that you were right.

CARLYON.

Well, they'll finish your education in Rajpoor.

ADENE.

I don't mean to stay in Rajpoor, it is too English. I want to get into Upper Bhojâl among the hills.

CARLYON.

[_Looking hard at him, then turning a little towards_ ELIZABETH.] Capital! Capital! My pet tribes! Yes, I wondered if you meant that in your letter.

ELIZABETH.

[_Calmly, as though to herself and stating a fact._] You will never be able to get there.

VERA.

Have you met my Aunt Elizabeth, Mr. Adene. [_To_ ELIZABETH.] Or am I to say "Cousin"?

ELIZABETH.

Well, I'm only a second or third cousin at the best, dear.

[_Comes down and shakes hands with_ ADENE _who rises_.

ADENE.

[_To_ ELIZABETH.] I have a Bhojâli acquaintance who will go with me.

CARLYON.

You realise the geography, do you? Lower Bhojâl of course, is British, and part of the province of Rajpoor.

ADENE.

Annexed by you! Yes, that is where my man comes from.

CARLYON.

The Upper Country is almost inaccessible, and quite cut off from communication. Koreb's rebels fled there.

ADENE.

My man has relations in the Upper Country.

CARLYON.

I shouldn't depend much on that. However, if you're only well disguised and avoid speaking----

ADENE.

I must _speak_! It is information I go for!

CARLYON.

Oh, it is not the place for information. They have no writings, and no one village knows anything of another.

ADENE.

There must be local traditions, and if I question them----

CARLYON.

If you question them they will shoot you. I knew an American killed there for pressing a Bhojâli to tell his children's names.

VERA.

[_Coming across to him._] But, Father, you've travelled over all that country yourself!

ADENE.

And unarmed, wasn't it?

CARLYON.

[_To_ VERA.] Yes, child, but it does not follow that another man can! [_Turning to_ ADENE _with change of manner from proud to pleasant_.] Perhaps you've not heard how they have shrines built to me there and offer sacrifices to one of my old swords.

ADENE.

Yes, I know. Like Nicholson in the Mutiny. Had you to persecute your worshippers as he did?

CARLYON.

No; froze the heresy by neglect.

ADENE.

Well, you will give me letters?

CARLYON.

[_Laughing._] Yes, of course I will, and tokens to the tribesmen too, which will be more to the purpose.

ADENE.

Then I will risk the rest.

CARLYON.

Oh! The recklessness of youth!

ADENE.

Well, with your letters and tokens, when they had that devotion to you----

CARLYON.

[_Turning sharply._] Do you think it was from love they didn't touch me? The account you will get of me there is not what you'll get at Exeter Hall.

ADENE.

Surely it was at bottom because of your fairness, because you stood by the weak?

CARLYON.

Much those savages care for that! It was not my fairness that saved me! Do you know the Bhojâli song, "Said the tiger to Carlyon?"

ELIZABETH.

[_Above table_ L.] Will no one have some more tea?

ADENE.

I know a proverb--No thank you--about you. "He has no fear and his justice is----"

CARLYON.

No, no, no! Not that absurd thing!

VERA.

You are quite right, Mr. Adene! He brought it on himself, pretending to be such a reprobate: "His justice is the justice of a god."

CARLYON.

If people took there opinion of me from you, Vera. No, my song is a very different thing: "Said the tiger to Carlyon as they hunted together: 'Let us kill no more. My hunger is dead and my limbs are weary.' And Carlyon answered the tiger: 'Out of my body I will give thee hunger and strength, for my hunger dies not and my limbs are never tired.' Said the death-snake to Carlyon----"

VERA.

[_Rising and putting her arms round his neck and her hands over his month from behind._] That's quite enough! We don't admire your song.

ELIZABETH.

Oh, you don't understand.

CARLYON.

It goes on to tell how the cobra had spent all its poison till I gave it of the venom of my heart, and we all went on killing together. Upon my word, it's what they believe of me!

VERA.

It was just a wild angry song of the rebels!

ELIZABETH.

Don't you see, child? The tiger was the noblest of beasts for them; there was nothing else so royal and terrible. They meant that he was nobler than the noblest! [_She speaks with quiet emotion._

CARLYON.

Exactly! Exactly! And they happened to be fond of snakes, so they said I was like one! [_Satirically._

ELIZABETH.

Of course they only saw him as a deadly fighter; that was as much as they could understand! They never dreamed of the heights and depths----

CARLYON.

_You_ would have made me one of your invalid fowls, Elizabeth, wouldn't you? Hullo, has one of them been biting you?

[_Pointing to her hand in the handkerchief._

VERA.

Why, Elizabeth!

ELIZABETH.

Oh, it's nothing at all.

VERA.

Let me see. [ELIZABETH _tries to put her off_.] No, I _will_ see! Why, it is right to the bone both sides! That creature ought really----

ELIZABETH.

[_With mild annoyance._] Dear me, Vera, it's really nothing at all! The chicken I put in was frightened and lay still, so the poor fellow wouldn't look at it. So I just put my hand in and was stirring the chicken up----

CARLYON.

And he swooped upon you! Go away at once, Elizabeth; and never say I'm like those eagles again!

[ADENE _opens the door for_ ELIZABETH.

ELIZABETH.

[_To_ VERA.] No, you shan't come with me, dear! I am quite ashamed, Mr. Adene, to make such a fuss!

ADENE.

My dear lady, it is the absence of fuss that strikes me! [_Exit_ ELIZABETH.] Well, if I had had my hand bitten right through by a Himalayan eagle----

VERA.

It's a frightful bite!

CARLYON.

[_Carelessly._] Oh, that's Elizabeth all over! It is true, though, in the main, what she was saying. The thing those people care for is fighting-power. They like a conqueror to enjoy his conquering, the trampling and slaughtering and all the rest of it.

ADENE.

What did they make of your hospitals and your care for the wounded?

CARLYON.

Didn't like it! Too inconsistent altogether!

VERA.

In fact, Mr. Adene, if you want to be popular in Bhojâl, get a certificate from a clergyman stating that you are a professional robber, and have burnt alive all your female relations!

ADENE.

Well, you've rather staggered me. But I can't give up Bhojâl. It is my work.

CARLYON.

[_Rises._] You young people and your work! I suppose I am growing decrepit. I would sooner keep a whole skin than even know about the dialects. It is to be the dialects? Or is it the history?--of Bhojâl. [_Near_ ADENE.

ADENE.

History first.

CARLYON.

Ah well, there isn't any! So even the dialects are more important. Forgive me, Adene! I am far from depreciating your work, but you're like Vera. She thinks the world would stand still if a particular medical treatise were not ready by November, and you---- Ah, I prefer to take things easily! [_Goes towards door. To_ VERA _who follows him_.] Mr. Adene may have letters to write. You'll ring when he wants to be shown his room.

[ADENE _rises. Exit_ CARLYON; VERA _goes with him to the door_.

VERA.

Shall I ring now? Post at six.

ADENE.

Not unless you wish to be rid of me. I suppose this is the medical treatise?

[_Pointing to MS. on table._

VERA.

That is what he meant. It is only a thesis for my degree.

ADENE.

So you're at Zurich under my old friend Rheinhardt! I saw him in London, by the way.

VERA.

Is he over in England? I wonder if he would come here?

ADENE.

Judging from what he said, he'd go to the North Pole if you asked him.

VERA.

[_With interest._] Did he speak of me?

ADENE.

Of almost nothing else--you and his enemy Steinmetz; but he forbade me to repeat a word of it. Would you much like to know?

VERA.

Of course I should, immensely. But I'm not going to try and find out if he doesn't want me to.

ADENE.

That's what he said you would say! [_Touching the MS._] When is it to be sent in?

VERA.

I have only a month left, and look what I have to get through! [_Goes to revolving case._

ADENE.

You can't possibly read all these?

[_Goes to her up_ R.

VERA.