Teaching English at College Level: Problems and Possibilities

Teaching English at College Level: Problems and Possibilities

English is being treated as a global language because of its vast presence all over the world. More or less English is enjoying the status of lingua franca of the world. With the IT revolution, most of the software and operating systems being in English Language, a new utility for written and oral communications in English language has emerged. English is used all over the world not out of any imposition but because of the realization that it has certain advantages. A very important reason for regarding English as a world language is that the most of the world’s knowledge is enshrined in English.  It is, undisputedly, a progressive, dynamic and flexible language. Over and above English is universally renowned for its power of expression and its rich literature. So, English has been lauded as the most successful language. In modern prospective, English symbolizes as better education, better future, better culture and higher intellect, therefore, in present times, English is the most preferred language for higher education as well as technical education.

The advent of English in India happened as early as in 1800 AD as the East India Company (EIC) imparted English education only to the children of the European employees of the company and to the very small percentage of Anglo-Indians in the country, hence English has a very limited sphere of dominance and it was an extremely marginalized language used only by the British. Invariably English has co-existed in the Indian sub-continent along with hundreds of local languages.

It was an historical movement when Lord Macaulay’s ideas took a clearer picture in 1835 when he presented his ‘minute’ on 2^nd February 1835 in the ‘Manifestation of English Education in India’. This ‘minute’ is often quoted as ‘the real beginning of bilingualism in India’.  This ‘minute’ was very clearly pushed for the English education for ease in administration and in civilizing ‘race of half-naked, uncivilized’ people in India. This controversial ‘minute’ was given the Seal of Approval by Lord William Bentinck in 1835 in spite of facing strong protests by the orientalists on the pretext that Indians ‘wanted’ English Education. This resolution “formed the cornerstone of the implementation of a language policy in India and ultimately resulted in the dissemination of bilingualism in English” and paved way to Christian missionaries to enter India to establish a number of schools and colleges.

Of course all these facilities are only benefited the students of cosmopolitan cities like Calcutta (Kolkata), Bombay (Mumbai), Madras (Chennai) etc., According to recent surveys, approximately 4% of the Indian population use English. This figure might seem insignificant, but out of the total population it represents 35 million people communicate in English. It means India is the largest English speaking community outside USA and UK.   English may be virtually the mother-tongue for many educated Indians, but for the vast majority of people, it remains as a second language.

Language learning is a natural process for the natives of any country. The approach to this learning process is called the ‘behavioristic approach’. But the students of other languages, deliberate efforts are required to learn a foreign language which requires a ‘mentalistic approach’. The students of rural and semi-urban areas in India face such problems because English is not their mother-tongue. It is either instinctive nor intuitive. Language acquisition seems to be a process of both of analogy and application, nature and nurture. In the process of teaching English as a second language in India the teachers of English language have adopted, invented and developed a variety of methods to teach English. Edward M. Anthony says in his book “Approach, Method and Technique – Teaching English as a Second Language”, “Method is an overall plan for the orderly presentation of language material no part of which contradicts and all of which is based upon, the selected approach. Approach is axiomatic and a method is procedural”. The orderly presentation of language to students is influenced by several factors. The teacher has to keep in mind the age of the student, his native language, his cultural background and his previous experience with English. The experience of the teacher and his level of mastery over his English language are equally important. To achieve desired effects, the goal of course must be kept in mind – whether it is aimed at reading, fluency in speech, inculcating translation skill. All these objects shape methodology.

Being English as a second language, Students of rural colleges face a number of problems. Learning second language means acquiring a system of rules with little knowledge of those rules. Students learn basic grammar at school level for the purpose of passing in the school examinations and not to face any real life situations.  Application-oriented grammar is rarely taught. Inadequate practice and facilities are provided to students to learn English language. In this phase a student grows from a small child to a grown-up when he/she completes higher secondary examinations. In this transition period each student has his own whims and fancies about college life because of the tremendous influence of mass-media. Many a time the media project a false perception about colleges and life of a student. On seeing such things in movies, students take it for granted. As a result of this, they have formed an image for a college and want to act upon those images.

The twelve years of school life is considered as a restricted life of students. They are taught with heavy dose of discipline and obedience. The moment they enter into college life; they think as if they got freedom from their confinement. During adolescence students usually embark to learn all bad things and forget good things, which have learnt through twelve years of rigorous training in schools. Carefree life and without responsibilities give them opportunity to implement whatever they can think off. No compulsion for attending classes and being away from family elders’ supervision make them feel difficulty to sit in the classes and listen to the lessons. The students of UG Courses are neither immature nor fully matured group. This adolescence is really a challenging age to deal with. They are egoistic in many ways. The students of this group are tend to be identified by many means. They are more idiotic than rationalistic understanding. For them, sitting and listening a language class is something an uphill task. 

English is made compulsory as a second language for all students who seek admission at U G level. A large number of students are really not interested in studying English however they are all forced to undergo this trouble despite their lack of basic knowledge in English in previous classes. Many students in B.A. and B. Com classes are not able to read the simplest sentences even though they are very familiar to them. Further, they are not able to mange to read the sentences meaningfully dividing them into meaningful units. Such students do really lose interest in learn English and fail in the examinations.

The hackneyed, stereotyped and traditional pattern of exams aims at clearing English not as a language but as a subject. The students, therefore, are guided to practice pick and choose method from the sub-standard material available in the market. So, the students merely pass the subject far away from learning any level of the Language. It is shocking to learn that even the questions that students supposed to answer are told to learn through their own vernacular. Lack of proper vocabulary, lack of skill in making the sentences, no knowledge of English usage forces the student to adopt a casual approach. Even after studying English for 14 to 15 years the level of student’s skills in English remain poor.

Generally, the classrooms are often overflowing with students in rural and semi-urban colleges which have a name and little fame despite the poor performance of students. The strength of each class may usually ranging from 250 to 300 students comprising with students of mixed ability. English Language Teaching (ELT) experts suggest ways for teachers to teach English meaningfully by grouping them according to their ability as ‘very able’ ‘able’ ‘less able’ and ‘unable’ students.  No doubt some good teachers are trying to group the students with the limited resources and time available to them. However, a large number of college teachers do not do such activities because of their apprehension that they won’t be able to complete the syllabus within the set time frame. Teachers cannot be blamed for this because they are answerable to the stakeholders as well as institutional authorities and hence their aim is to teach in such large classes and make a good number of students pass in the examinations. Thus, testing and evaluating designed by boards of education and universities have a negative effect on their teaching efforts in the classrooms.

It often surprises to hear that many of the ‘less able’ and ‘unable’ students have scored first class marks in their previous qualifying examinations although spellings of simple words are also a great puzzle for them.  For obvious reasons, let us not discuss their failure in constructing simple meaningful sentences. Such weak knowledge of English underscores the fact that there is something awfully wrong in the way the typical student is ‘brought up’ to do his graduation in colleges where all efforts of teachers to reform their English language skills prove futile.

To solve above discussed problems a systematic approach is required. Governments of the states should develop sufficient infrastructure in the schools and appoint well trained teachers to teach English more impressively on modern lines not knowledge but skill. Teachers of English should be very resourceful to help students to enjoy their language activities in the classroom. Exposing students to the language laboratories may enhance their confidence in the process of learning language. Students learn by way of imitation, similarly, the students tend to follow the example set by their teacher.  The English teacher should be more resourceful with considerable amount of enthusiasm and imagination in inculcating the habit of learning new words in them. Students newly learnt words will become a part of their vocabulary and they will be in a position to use those words purposefully and meaningfully. This enhancement of vocabulary will result into better expression. Timings for English teaching in the college time-table should be convenient for the students who travel from remote places. Appointing good number of language lecturers and reducing student and teacher ratio may yield better results. Minimum student strength of each class, regular attendance and personal assessment of each student are to be exercised in every college. Personal guidance is to be provided for the students who are less able and unable students through remedial classes.

At the outset, teachers should motivate students for participative learning. This will solve all the stumbling blocks in students. Above all, a teacher is not only a teacher but also a friend, guide and a philosopher to students. The teacher guides not only to pass in the exam but also to face challenges and take right decisions during the time of crisis in life. This is, of course, a real and tough task ahead of a good teacher.

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ODE TO PSYCHE - John Keats

ODE TO PSYCHE - John Keats

 

The legend:

Psyche was a damsel so beautiful that Venus became jealous of her. Venus sent Cupid to make Psyche fall in love with some ugly creature, but Cupid himself fell in love with her. He placed her in a palace, but only visited her in the dark and forbade her to attempt to see him, Her sisters out of jealousy told her that her lover was a monster and would devour her. One night she secretly lighted a lamp, and looked at Cupid when he was asleep. Amazed, wonder struck and agitated at the sight of his beauty, she let fall on him a drop of oil from the lamp, and woke him. There upon the god left her, angry at her disobedience. Psyche, lonely and repentant, searched for her lover all over the earth. Venus imposed various superhuman tasks upon her, which, however, she was able to accomplish, except the last. Jupiter, at Cupid's entreaty, at last consented to her marriage to her lover, and she was taken to heaven and deified.  The myth symbolizes the purification of human soul by passion and suffering.  

 

Psyche is the Greek word for the soul. Keats seems to regard Psyche not only as the personification of the human soul but also as the personification of beauty.

Summary:

Addressing the divinity, Psyche, Keats says that he writing this poem under a sweet compulsion and in order to record his feeling of affection for her. He seeks her pardon for singing her secrets in to her own soft and shell-shaped ears. He then goes on to describe what he thinks might have been a dream or an actual experience. Wandering in a forest thoughtlessly, he was astonished to see two lovely creatures lying side by side in deep grass under the leaves and blossoms of trees, near a stream, which was hardly visible. The two lovely creatures lay in the midst silent, cool and sweet-smelling flowers of blue, silver-white, and purple colours. They lay in an embrace. Their lips did not touch but seemed to have temporarily parted to renew their kisses very soon. Keats recognised the winged boy as Cupid, the god of love, but he was a little doubtful about the identity of the goddess who was probably Psyche, the devoted and loyal beloved of Cupid.  (Lines 1 - 23)

Keats addresses Psyche as the latest-born and the loveliest of all the gods and goddesses who lived on Mount Olympus. He considers her to be fairer than Venus (the morning star), and fairer than Vesper (the evening star).  It is unfortunate, however, that Psyche was never made the object of worship in ancient times because she became a goddess too late. Describing the Paraphernalia of religious worship, Keats laments the fact that Psyche did not receive her due as a goddess. No temple was built to her; no altar was heaped with flowers; no tribute of musical composition on her either on the lute or on the pipe; no incense was burnt in censers; no priest showed any fervour of worship in relation to her or uttered prophecies in her behalf.  She was certainly the brightest of all divinities, but she came too late for ancient vows, and too late for the lyric poets of antiquity to celebrate her. The ancient people believed that divinities lived amongst the trees, in the air, in water, and in fire; but because Psyche attained the status of a divinity when the age of mythical beliefs had almost passed, she was not worshipped. The fact does not, however, discourage the poet from paying his tribute to her. He can see her even in these days, which are so far paying his tribute to her.  He can see her even in these days, which are so far removed from the ancient ages of mythical beliefs. The poet himself will serve as her choir, and sing sweet songs in her honour; he will himself serve as her lute, her pipe, her sweet incense, her shrine, her oracle, and her priest. (Lines 24 - 49)

The poet reiterates that he will himself act as a priest or worshipper of Psyche. He will build a temple to her in some unexplored region of his mind. In that region of his mind, new thoughts will grow like branches of pine trees and will make him experience a feeling of pain accompanied by pleasure. His mind will serve as a forest and his thoughts will serve as pine trees. There, in that region of his mind, will the wood-nymphs lie on the moss in the midst of streams, birds, and bees, with cool breezes blowing around. In the midst of such an extensive and peaceful region, the poet would build a rose-covered shrine for Psyche and he will worship her with the loveliest buds and blossoms of verse with the gardener Fancy can produce. Fancy, the gardener, has an infinite productive capacity and does not repeat herself.  This poet, using his Fancy, will provide for Psyche all those soft pleasures, which his brain can devise. He will also provide a bright torch in open window of the temple so that Psyche may be able to enter the temple. (Lines 50 -60)

(In the concluding stanza, Keats expresses his idea by means of an elaborate metaphor. " His mind is the forest, full of the varied beauty of Nature and myth: his thoughts are the pine trees, in the midst of which, he will build a temple dedicated to the worship of Psyche; the flowers are apparently his verses, tended by the worship of Fancy, and the rose-clad temple of poetry is to be prepared and thrown open for the entrance of Psyche. Probably by the 'fane' he means the ode which, with this beautiful imagery, he brings to a close.")

Appreciation

This Ode is addressed to Psyche, a king’s beautiful daughter with whom Cupid, the god of love, fell in love and who was, after many vicissitudes, united with him. It was only in the age of Apuleius (in the second century A.D.) that Psyche was given the status of divinity and it is for this reason that Keats refers to her as the latest born of all gods and goddesses who had their abode on Mount Olympus.  Keats emphasizes the fact that Psyche was not made immortal till the days of simple religious faith and observance were gone by and  he, therefore, deplores the fact that Psyche has never been duly worshipped.  In the Ode, eats offers himself as her worshipper. However, he seems to regard Psyche as the personification of Beauty rather than of the human Soul, which she is normally believed to symbolize. (Psyche in the Greek word for the soul.) In a letter to George, Keats wrote: “you must recollect the Psyche was not embodied as a goddess before the time of Apuleius, the Platonist, who lived after the Augustan age, and consequently the goddess was never worshipped or sacrificed to with any of the ancient fervour—and perhaps never thought of in the religion. I am more orthodox than to let a heathen goddess be so neglected.”

Sensuous Imagery:

The poem is remarkable for its concrete and sensuous imagery, which constitutes one of the most striking characteristics of Keats poetry. There is, first of all, the lovely picture of Cupid and Psyche lying in an embrace in deep grass, beneath a roof of leaves and blossoms, by the side of a brooklet. Keats imagines the two fair creatures.

                                    Couched side by side

In deepest grass, beneath the whispering roof

Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran

A brooklet, scarce espied:

The Lovers lay in the midst of flowers of varied colours, We get one of the most exquisite pictures in Keats’s poetry in the two lines in which he describes with and unsurpassed felicity of word and phrase,

’Mid hush’d, cool-rooted flowers fragrant-eyed,

Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian ……

The use of the compound epithets ‘cool-rooted’ and ‘fragrant-eyed’ shows Keats’s genius for original Phrase-making. Another sensuous shows picture follows in the lines where the lovers described as lying with lips that touched not but which had not at the same time bidden farewell:

As if dis-joined by soft-handed slumber,

And ready still past kisses to outnumber

At tender eye-drawn of aurorean love….

Keats means that on waking up the two lovers will start kissing each other again and that the number of their kisses this time will exceed the number f kissed they have already exchanged before falling asleep.

Concrete and sensuous imagery continues in the poem when Keats describes the superior beauty of Psyche as compared with Venus and Vesper. Venus and Vesper are themselves described in lovely phrases: “Phoebe’s Sapphire-region’s star”; and “vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky”. Psyche is not only the latest-born but also the loveliest of all the half forgotten gods and goddesses of Mount Olympus. Then follows a description of the paraphernalia of worship in a temple: altar, Virgin-choir, lute, pipe, sweet incense burning in a chain-swung censor, shrine, oracle and the fervour of a priest.

In the concluding stanza, we have more of concrete and sensuous imagery. We are given pictures of a forest, wild ridged mountains, streams, birds, breezes, and wood-nymphs lulled to sleep. One of the most exquisite pictures comes at the end where we see a bright torch burning in the casement to make it possible for cupid to enter the temple in order to make love to Psyche.

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The Old Man and the Sea - Earnest Hemingway

The Old Man ad the Sea - Earnest Hemingway

The Old Man and the Sea is the story of a battle between an old, experienced fisherman and a large marlin. The novel opens with the explanation that the fisherman, who is named Santiago, has gone 84 days without catching a fish. Santiago is considered "salao", the worst form of unluckiness. In fact, he is so unlucky that his young apprentice, Manolin, has been forbidden by his parents to sail with the old man and been ordered to fish with more successful fishermen. Still dedicated to the old man, however, the boy visits Santiago's shack each night, hauling back his fishing gear, getting him food and discussing American baseball and his favorite player Joe DiMaggio. Santiago tells Manolin that on the next day, he will venture far out into the Gulf Stream, north of Cuba in the Straits of Florida to fish, confident that his unlucky streak is near its end. Thus on the eighty-fifth day, Santiago sets out alone, taking his skiff far onto the Gulf Stream. He sets his lines and, by noon of the first day, a big fish that he is sure is a marlin takes his bait. Unable to pull in the great marlin, Santiago instead finds the fish pulling his skiff.

Two days and two nights pass in this manner, during which the old man bears the tension of the line with his body. Though he is wounded by the struggle and in pain, Santiago expresses a compassionate appreciation for his adversary, often referring to him as a brother. He also determines that because of the fish's great dignity, no one will be worthy of eating the marlin. On the third day of the ordeal, the fish begins to circle the skiff, indicating his tiredness to the old man. Santiago, now completely worn out and almost in delirium, uses all the strength he has left in him to pull the fish onto its side and stab the marlin with a harpoon, ending the long battle between the old man and the tenacious fish. Santiago straps the marlin to the side of his skiff and heads home, thinking about the high price the fish will bring him at the market and how many people he will feed.

While Santiago continues his journey back to the shore, sharks are attracted to the trail of blood left by the marlin in the water. The first, a great mako shark, Santiago kills with his harpoon, losing that weapon in the process. He makes a new harpoon by strapping his knife to the end of an oar to help ward off the next line of sharks; in total, five sharks are slain and many others are driven away. But the sharks keep coming, and by nightfall the sharks have almost devoured the marlin's entire carcass, leaving a skeleton consisting mostly of its backbone, its tail and its head. Finally reaching the shore before dawn on the next day, Santiago struggles on the way to his shack, carrying the heavy mast on his shoulder. Once home, he slumps onto his bed and falls into a deep sleep. A group of fishermen gather the next day around the boat where the fish's skeleton is still attached. One of the fishermen measures it to be 18 feet (5.5 m) from nose to tail. Tourists at the nearby café mistakenly take it for a shark. Manolin, worried during the old man's endeavor, cries upon finding him safe asleep. The boy brings him newspapers and coffee. When the old man wakes, they promise to fish together once again. Upon his return to sleep, Santiago dreams of his youth—of lions on an African beach.

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Philosophy for Laymen – Bertrand Russell

Philosophy for Laymen – Bertrand Russell

Bertrand Russell achieved an international reputation as a philosopher, mathematician, thinker, social critic, pacifist and a fighter for freedom. Born in a family of English aristocrats, he consistently advocated democracy and was an inveterate opponent and enemy of colonialism, racism and totalitarianism. He waged a relentless war against massive armament, especially nuclear arms, in which the major countries of the world are now involved. As a rationalist, he tried to expose every kind of irrational humbug prevalent in a contemporary society. He was a prolific writer and expressed his ideas with great power and precision on a variety of subjects, but he was essentially a philosopher.

In the essay ‘Philosophy for Laymen’ Russell explains very briefly the uses of philosophy. Philosophy, he says, means a love of wisdom. Philosophy, in this sense, is what people must acquire if new technical powers achieved by man are not to plunge mankind into the greatest that the ordinary people should be taught is not the same thing as the philosophy of specialists.

The theoretical function of philosophy:

Philosophy has always had two different objects: to arrive at a theoretical understanding of the structure of the world; and to discover and propagate the best possible way a life. Philosophy has thus been closely related to science on the one hand and to religion on the on the other. On its theoretical side philosophy partly consists in the framing of large general hypotheses they become part of science, and no longer belong to philosophy. There are a number of purely theoretical questions, of everlasting interest, which science is unable to answer at present. Do we survive after death? Can mind dominate matter? or does matter completely dominate mind?  Does this universe has a purpose, or is it driven by blind necessity? To keep alive the interest in such questions is one of the functions of philosophy.

The practical aspect of philosophy:

On its practical side, philosophy can greatly increase a man’s value as a human being and as a citizen. It can give a habit of exact and careful thought. It can give an impressive breadth and scope to the conception of the aims of life. It can give to the individual a correct estimate of himself in relation to society and of man in the present to man in the past and in the future. It can offer a cure, or at least a palliative, for the anxieties and the anguish, which afflict mankind at present.

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Milton’s portrayal of Satan in the first two Books of "Paradise Lost".

Milton’s portrayal of Satan in the first two Books of 'Paradise Lost'.

Satan, before fall, was called Lucifer and was far superior to all other angels in shape, pomp, authority, worthiness and dwelling. His pride was responsible for his fallen state. Milton accepted the image of Satan as conceived by the ethnologists and depicted Satan as an embodiment of the spirit of pride and ambition in ‘Paradise Lost’. This ambition is the fevered lust for power, which sprang from self-exaltation; This pride and egotism vitiate all that is noble and good in him. He declares to his followers that they might have lost Heaven, but still possesses the unconquerable will, courage never to submit or yield. This is heroic quality. He is also presented by the poet as a noble rebel and acts as poet’s mouthpiece. Milton’s republican fervor and his Fustian sense of freedom are reflected in Satan.

Satan’s firm conviction is that it is better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven. He succeeds in achieving unanimity among his followers about this. In Hell, he cherishes the desire of being the leader and gives a call to his legions “to Arise, awake, or be for ever fallen”. Like an able leader, he intelligently tells his legions that Heaven is not at all lost, because “The mind its own place; it can make a Hell of Heaven and Heaven of Hell”.

Thus Satan with his heroic qualities as presented in Book I makes most readers feel that he is the real hero of "Paradise Lost".

     

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My Last Duchess - Robert Browning

My Last Duchess – Robert Browning

Ferrara

That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,

Looking as if she were alive.   I call

That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf’s hands

Worked busily a day, and there she stands.

Will’t please you sit and look at her?    I said

“Fra Pandolf” by design, for never read

Strangers like you that pictured countenance,

The depth and passion of its earnest glance,

But to myself they turned (since none puts by

The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)

And seemed they would ask me, if they durst,

How such a glance came there; so not the first

Are you to turn and ask thus.    Sir, ’twas not

Her husband’s presence only, called that spot

Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek: perhaps

Fra Pandolf chanced to say “her mantle laps

Over my lady’s wrist too much,” or Paint

Must never hope to reproduce the faint

Half-flush that dies along her throat”: Such stuff

Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough

For calling up that spot of joy.     She had

A heart – how shall I say? – too soon made glad,

Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er

She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.

Sir, ’twas all one! My favour at her breast,

The dropping of the daylight in the West,

The bough of cherries some officious fool

Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule

She rode with round the terrace – all and each

Would draw from her alike the approving speech,

Or blush, at least. She thanked men – good! But thanked

Somehow – I know not how – as if she ranked

My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name

With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame

This sort of trifling? Even had you skill

In speech – (Which I have not) – to make your will

Quite clear to such a one, and say, “Just this

Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,

Or there exceed the mark” – and if she let

Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set

her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse

--E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose

Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt

Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without

Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;

Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands

As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet

the company below, then. I repeat

The Count your master’s known munificence

Is ample warrant that no just pretence

Of mine dowry will be disallowed

Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed

At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go

Together down, Sir. Notice Neptune, though,

Taming a sea horse, thought a rarity,

Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

My Last Duchess (Summary)

The duke of Ferrara, a powerful, and hard-hearted Italian Duke of the 16^th century, has been widowed recently, He intends to marry a second time. The messenger of the powerful count, who has his estate in the neighborhood, comes to the Duke’s palace to negotiate with him the marriage of the Count’s daughter. The Duke takes him round his picture-gallery and shows to him the portrait of his last Duchess. The portrait is life-like and realistic, and the Duke, who is a great lover of the fine arts, is justly proud of it.

The Duke points out the portrait to the messenger and tells him that he alone uncovers the picture and nobody else is allowed to do so. At this point, the Duke notices an inquiring look in the eyes of the messenger and at once understands that he wants to know the cause of the deep, passionate look in the eyes of the Duchess, and proceeds to satisfy his curiosity.

In response to the inquiring look of the messenger, the Duke tells him that the deep passion in the eyes of the Duchess does not result from any sex-intrigue of guilty of love. He did not give her any occasion to be unfaithful to him. Even the portrait on the wall was done not by an ordinary artist, but by a monk, and he was allowed only one day to it. He did not allow the Monk any longer time, for he did not want to provide them any occasion for intimacy. This shows that the Duke is a jealous tyrant and the poor Duchess could not have enjoyed any freedom of movement as the wife of such a man.

Continuing further with his explanation, the Duke tells the envoy that his last Duchess had very childish and foolish nature. She was pleased with trifles, would thank others for even the slightest service they happened to render to her, and had no sense of dignity and decorum. For example, the faint blush of joy on her cheek and neck was not caused by the presence of her husband alone. If the painter happened to mention that her cloak covered her wrist too much, or that paint could never hope to capture the light pink glow on her throat, she would take such chance remarks as compliments and blush with pleasure. She had a childish heart, and was pleased too easily by such trifles as the gift of a branch laden with cherries, the beautiful sunset, or the mule presented to her by someone for her rides round the terrace. She would blush with pleasure at such trifles, just as much as she would at some costly ornament presented by him. She was the wife of a Duke who belonged to an ancient family, nine hundred years old. But she considered even this gift of his at par with the trifling services rendered to her by others.

As a matter of fact, she had no discrimination, and no sense of dignity and decorum. She smiled at everybody without any distinction; she thanked everybody in the same way. He expected better sense from his wife. He did not correct her, for even to notice such frivolity would have meant loss of dignity, and he did not like to suffer this loss. Besides, she would have argued and discussed with him, instead of listening to his advice. Her habit of smiling continued to grow will it became intolerable to him. At last he gave orders, and, “Then all smiles stopped together”. Te line has been left intentionally enigmatic; we cannot say certain how the smiling stopped. But, most probably, the poor, innocent Duchess was murdered at the command of her brutal and stony-hearted husband.

The duke then asks the messenger to come down, where the other guests of his are waiting. In passing, he tells the messenger that he would expect a rich dowry from his master, the Count, though, of course, he adds very cleverly, his primary concern is the daughter, and not the dowry. The duke is not only hard-hearted, proud and tyrannical, but also greedy and cunning. He is a hypocrite of the first water. The only good point about him is his love of art. As they go down the stairs, he asks the messenger to have a good look at the bronze statue of Neptune, the sea-god. In this statue, the god is shown riding and controlling a sea horse. It was done specially for him by the great sculptor, Claus of Innsbruck. It is the name of an imaginary artist invented to impress the messenger; just as earlier he invented the name of the painter, Fra Pandolf

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Mukta-Dhara - Rabindranath Tagore

Mukta-Dhara, from which the play takes its name, is a mountain spring whose waters, rushing down the slopes of Uttarakut, irrigate the plains of Shiva-tarai, whose people are held in subjection to the king of Uttarakut. In order to enforce this subjection more effectively, the King of Uttarakut desires to control the source of their economic well being. In order to cherish this end he wanted  a great dam to be erected to prevent the waters of Mukata-dhara from reaching the plains below. It was a difficult and hazardous operation, but the skill of the royal engineer Bibhuti, utilizing the resources of modern science and technology with the help of conscripted labour, has at last successfully achieved the feat, though with considerable loss of life. A mighty engine-tower, out- soaring the trident of the Temple of Shiva on a mountain peak, has been erected. The play opens with the King and the citizens of Uttarakut preparing to participate in a religious festival in honour of the Machine. The King as well as the bulk of the people of Uttarakut, are very proud of the Machine and quite confident that the poor defenseless people of Shiva-tarai will now forever be at their mercy. Neither the recurring wail of the poor, demented mother, Amba, looking for her son, one of the conscripted victims sacrificed in the building of the dam, nor the warnings of the simple, god-fearing folk who presage ill for such colossal pride and greed, touch their hearts. 

The crown Prince Abhijit, however, professes open sympathy for the people of Shiva-tarai and protests against Bibhuti’s soulless achievement. The character of the Prince provides the main psychological interest in the play. In him, love of freedom and sympathy for the oppressed discover their appropriate symbolism, or as the author so aptly puts it, their objective counterpart, in the fate of Mukta-dhara, whose free current has been imprisoned by the dam.  The emotional significance of this symbolism gains intensity till it becomes a passion, when the Price learns that he is not the son of the king but a foundling picked up near the source of Mukta-dhara. ‘This unexpected revelation profoundly affects his mind, making him believe that his life has a spiritual relationship with this waterfall; that its voice was the first voice which greeted him with a message when he came to the world. From that movement the fulfillment of that message becomes the sole aim of his life, which is to open out paths for the adventurous spirit of Man’. He determines to sacrifice his life in an attempt to liberate the imprisoned current by forcing the dam at a point, which he happens know was weakly built. He succeeds. The leaping torrent breaks free, carrying away the body of its foster-child in its turbulent rush. The social motive of the play, if it had any, is sense of mystic self-fulfillment, as in some of Ibsen’s later dramas. 

The author has also re-introduced into the play the remarkable character, the Ascetic Dhananjaya, who first appeared in Prayaschitta (Atonement), published in 1909. In that play as in the present one, Dhananjaya teaches the people to resist their ruler’s unjust claims non-violently but fearlessly.  He exhorts the subject people, ‘as soon as one can hold up your head and say that nothing has power to hurt you, the roots of violence will be cut … nothing can hurt your real man hood, for that is a flame of fire. The animal, that is flesh, feels the blow and whines. But you stand there gaping – don’t you understand?’  A disciple answers, ‘we understand you, but your words we don’t understand.’ Dhananjaya replies, ‘Then you are done for.’ Both the personality and the words of Dhananjaya are a remarkable anticipation of the shape that the struggle for Indian Independence was to assume later under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. In the earlier play Dhananjaya even leads the people in a sort of no-rent campaign.   

Perhaps no other play of Rabindranath expresses his political convictions with such directness and force. Technically too the drama is not overburdened with any sub-plot or extraneous incidents, which might break the continuity of the main theme. Incidentally the Greek classical unites of time and place are fully observed.

The drama is packed with meaning and rich in suggestions, which may tempt critics into a variety of interpretations. But he has gently warned his readers against missing the main significance of the play, which is psychological and lies in the growing identity that is achieved in the Prince’s mind between his own spirit and the current of Mukta-dhara. The last desperate act of self-sacrifice, the awful nature of the consummation sought and achieved by the Prince, which brings the play to its close, leaves one with a sense of the tragic splendour of man's spirit, silencing all contentions for the moment. What happens to the people of Shiva-tarai, we have forgotten to inquire.

There is no doubt the Mukta-dhara is one of the most moving and well-knit of the author’s dramas. Mr Edward Thompson has called it ‘the best of his prose dramas’. Without endorsing so categorical a judgement, it is well quoting the English critic’s excellent appreciation of the play.

‘It is a reasoned though highly allegorical presentation of his convictions, as expressed during many previous years, on modern politics. It has many strands of significance woven into it, so that it is like shot silk suggesting many colours; the play’s achievement is that in it he has attained a synthesis of his different convictions and message. His deep distrust of all government machinery and of all prostitution of science to serve violence and oppression. His hatred of a slavish system of education, his scorn of race-hatred and of all politics, which seek to make one tribe dependent on another instead of risking the gift of the fullest freedom. His certitude that it is in freedom that God is found – all these are so prominent that each may with justice be claimed as the play’s message.  Through all, as a tender undertone, runs the murmur of the Free Current, a haunting sound in the soul of the boy whose foster-mother she was, and whose lifeless body, after he has broken her fetters, her waves are to carry majestically away. There are impressive passages, as where the Machine is seen, sinister against the sunset, crouching over the land and its life, over topping even God’s temple; or where the noise of the breaking dam and the raging waters is first heard. All through the play sounds the menace of God’s gathering anger at the hardness of men’s hearts and the sordidness of their hopes. Finest of all is the constant quiet drift of folk along the roads, the procession of life. It is the greatest of his symbolical plays.  

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A DISTANT RELATIVE – W. W. JACOBS

A DISTANT RELATIVE – W. W. JACOBS

CHARACTERS

Mr. George Spriggs    : a bricklayer aged about fifty

Mrs. Spriggs               : his wife

Ethel Spriggs               : his daughter

Mr. Augustus Price     : Mrs. Spriggs’s brother, forty

Mr. Alfred Potter        : engaged to Ethel

Scene: Mr. SPRIGGS’S living room.

Time:   Evening.

Old-fashioned window C., door opening on to street R.C., door up L. Fireplace L. Two easy-chairs by fireplace, table up C., small chairs, oleographs, vases on mantelpiece, etc. small table in window, with plants; one or two old-fashioned pieces of furniture about the room.

MR. SPRIGGS: (glaring at door L.) How much longer are they going to be? They seem very fond of the     kitchen.

MRS. SPRIGGS: It’s only natural, George. Don’t you remember when——

MR. SPRIGGS: (fumbling at collar) No, I don’t. all I know is that your poor father never ’ad to put on a collar for me; and, mind you, I won’t wear one after they are married, not if you all went on your bended knees and asked me to. (He takes the other easy-chair.)

                        (Door L., opens and ETHEL and Mr. POTTER enter and cross to door R. ETHEL opens door, and stands holding it. Mr. SPRIGGS shivers, and then coughs.)

MR. POTTER: Your father has got a cold.

ETHEL:            Not him; it’s too much smoking. He’s smoking all day long.

MR. SPRIGGS: (coughing again) It’s a cold.

(ETHEL ignores him. She and POTTER are whispering and scuffling. She pushes him out, and he pushes in again. The door is enacting the part of a ventilating fan. MR. SPRIGGS rises.)

MRS. SPRIGGS: (hastily) It’s only another fortnight, Father.

MR. SPRIGGS: (resuming his seat ad speaking vindictively) After they’re spliced I’ll play about with their front door—

                        (ETHEL pushes MR. POTTER out and closes door on him with a violent bang. MR. SPRIGS rises again.)

ETHEL:           (crossing to him) What’s the matter? What are you looking like that for?

MR. SPRIGGS: (feebly) Too much draught— for your mother. I’m afraid of her asthma again.

ETHEL:            You are thoughtful! Ta-ta! We shall be back soon. Mind you don’t sit in a draught. And what about an antimacassar for your poor old shoulders?

                        (Snatches one from a chair, throws it over him, gives him a pat on the head and them runs to join MR. POTTER, who has opened the door again. They both exit.)

MR. SPRIGGS: (feeling his head, proudly) anybody who can’t be happy with her— don’t deserve to be happy.

MRS. SPRIGGS: (nervously) I wish it was over. She’ll break her heart if anything happens to prevent it, and Gussie ——

MR. SPRIGGS: A gal can’t ’elp what her uncle does. If Alfred throws her over for that he’s no man.

MRS. SPRIGGS: (shaking her head) Pride is his great fault.

MR. SPRIGGS: It’s no good taking up troubles afore they come; and if you do ’ave to take ’em up chuck down at once— see?

MRS. SPRIGGS: Yes, you try chucking Gussie down, and see what happens. I used to try it when we was children together; but if I had a ha’penny Gussie always got it. And always did it as though he was doing me a favour. That’s Gussie.

MR. SPRIGGS: (in a doleful voice) Cheer up, old gal. It was lucky you and Ethel wasn’t here when he came.

MRS. SPRIGGS: But he’ll come again.

MR. SPRIGGS: Yes, but he’ll come diff’rent. (In a raspy voice) this afternoon he touched me for a tail-coat and fancy trousers and a top-’at. (Groans) he made a favour of it; said he must do us credit.

MRS. SPRIGGS: (nodding) That’s Gussie. That’s ’im all over.

MR. SPRIGGS: P’raps he won’t come. I believe he’ll be ashamed to show ’is face here when ’e comes to think of it; but if he does don’t forget he ’as come back from Australia. I told ’im we ’ad always told Ethel that ’er uncle was in Australia. See? It’ll make it nicer for ’im too. You don’t suppose ’e wants to boast of where he’s been!

MRS. SPRIGGS: And suppose he comes while Alfred is here?

MR. SPRIGGS: Then I ses, ‘How ’ave you left ’em all in Australia?’ and winks at ’im.

MRS. SPRIGGS: And suppose you aren’t ‘’ere?

MR. SPRIGGS: Then you say it and winks at ’im (Hastily) No, I know you can’t: you’ve been too well brought up. Still, you can try. Try now.

                        (MRS. SPRIGGS contorts her face horribly, first one side and then the other.)

MRS. SPRIGGS: I believe I did it then. It felt like it.

MR. SPRIGGS: No, don’t try it. Wot a pity they let Gussie out! If they give a man ten years, why do they let ’im out afore he ’as done it? Where’s the sense of it? Ticket-of-leave be jiggered! And if they do give a man a ticket it ought to be pinned on to — on to his coat-tails.  

                        (Both turn and look at each other as a shuffling is heard outside door R.)

MRS. SPRIGGS: (nervously putting her finger to her mouth) Gussie!

MR. SPRIGGS: Don’t take up troubles afore they come. Ha! It has come.

                        (MR. AUGUSTUS PRICE enters slowly R. and shuts the door with exaggerated care. He is dressed in a frock coat too large for him, with large flower in buttonhole, fancy trousers, high stiff collar, a flaring necktie embellished with a scarf pin, shoes and white spats.)

MR. PRICE:     (in a weak, mournful voice) Emma!

MRS. SPRIGGS; Gussie!

MR. PRICE:     (gives her a stage embrace, pats her shoulder, and, passing his coat-sleeve across his eyes, totters into a chair) Emma! I’ve come home to die. (Extends hand to SPRIGGS.)

MR. SPRIGGS: (taking it reluctantly, and afterwards wiping his hand on the seat of his trousers) what are you going to die of?

MR. PRICE:     Broken ’art, George.

MRS. SPRIGGS: (hopefully) Why, have you ’ad an accident?

MR. PRICE:     (reproachfully) No, I’ve had enough to bear with-out accidents. My ’art is broken for want of fair play and justice.

MR. SPRIGGS: Justice! Want o’ justice! Why, how much more do you want? You ’ad ten years, didn’t you?

(MR. PRICE groans)

MRS. SPRIGGS: (shaking her head) George!

MR. PRICE:     (closing his eyes) I shan’t last the night. But don’t take any trouble about me. I can die anywhere. The doorstep is good enough for me. (Assumes pious, resigned expression) It’s no colder than Christian charity. (Gets up and looks round with half-closed eyes) Where is it? Where is it? Where’s the doorstep?

MR. SPRIGGS: I’m sorry we can’t ask you to stay with us, Gussie, ’specially as you are so ill, but we haven’t got a room.

MR. PRICE:     (moaning, and closing his eyes) I must die some-where; I shan’t last the night. The doorstep’ll do.

MRS. SPRIGGS: You can’t die ’ere, Gussie. Ethel is going to be married in a fortnight, and if you died ’ere that would put it off.

MR. PRICE:     (slowly opening his eyes) I might last longer if I was took care of.

MRS. SPRIGGS: And, besides, Ethel don’t know where you’ve been— she’s going to marry a very particular young chap — in the grocery line — and if he found it out it might be awkward.

(MR. PRICE groans)

MR. SPRIGGS:  It took ’im some time to get over me being a bricklayer …. What he’d say to you——

MR. PRICE:     Why can’t he be given to understand I’ve been in Australia? Same as you told EHTEL. Tell ’em anything you like — I don’t mind.

MR. SPRIGGS: (clearing his throat) But, you see, we told ETHEL you was doing well out there, and, gal-like— and ALFRED talking a lot about his relations—she, she’s made the most of it.

MR. PRICE:     It don’t matter. You say what you like. I shan’t interfere with you.

MRS. SPRIGGS: But you don’t know anything about Australia, and Alfred’s very sharp.

MR. PRICE:     (haughtily) I know all about it. Some of the library books they used to give us was about it. One time I almost made up my mind to go there. You wait till you hear me put it over to them.

MR. SPRIGGS: And what are you going to do for a living now you’re out?

MR. PRICE:     Anything that happens to come along, GEORGE.

MR. SPRIGGS: ’ave you got any money?

MR. PRICE:     (facetiously) I left it behind—in Australia.

MR. SPRIGGS: (sharply) Getting better, ain’t you? How’s that broken ’art getting on?

MR. PRICE:     It’s going better under this nice waistcoat you gave me.

MR. SPRIGGS: (violently) you’re a low-down trickster, that’s What you are! A disgrace to your family. You never done any good, and you never will do. You’re the black sheep of the family.

MR. PRICE:     Don’t get excited. You’re only wasting your breath. I’m trying to help you — that’s all. I don’t mind anybody knowing where I’ve been —I was innercent. If you will give way to sinful pride you must pay for it.

MR. SPRIGGS: ’Ow much do you want?

MR. PRICE:     Eh?

MR. SPRIGGS: Will you go away if I give you a quid?

MR. PRICE:     (smiling affably) Not much; I’ve got a better idea of the value of money than that. Besides, I want to see my dear niece, and see whether that young man’s good enough for her.

MR. SPRIGGS: Two quid?

MR. PRICE:     (shaking his head) sorry, George. I couldn’t do it. In justice to myself I couldn’t do it. You’ll be feeling lonely when you low Ethel, and I might stay on and keep you company. (Mr. and Mrs. SPRIGGS exchange glances of consternation. Mr. PRICE fills his pipe from a paper on the mantelpiece, and winks at himself in the glass as he adjusts his tie) a nice watch and a little money in my pocket, and I shall be the rich uncle from Australia to a t

MR. SPRIGGS: (furiously) You won’t get any more out of me! I’ve spent every farthing I’ve got.

MR. PRICE:     Except what’s in the bank. It’ll take you a day or two to get at it, I know, S’pose we say Saturday for the watch and chain? At present my watch is being mended. See? The sea voyage upset it. See? (Mr. SPRIGGs looks helplessly at his wife, who looks away. He gazes in a fascinated fashion at Mr. PRICE, who nods cheerfully in return) I’ll  go with you and help choose it. It’ll save you trouble, if it don’t save your pocket.

                        (He stands with his back to the fire, thrusts his hands in his pockets, spreads his legs apart, and blows smoke towards the ceiling. Enter Mr. POTTER and Ethel R. ETHEL stands eyeing Mr. PRICE.)

MRS. SPRIGGS: It’s —it’s your Uncle Gussie.

MR. SPRIGGS: (Choking) From Australia. Just come over.

ETHEL:            O – oh!

                        (Mr. PRICE removes his pipe, ad, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, moves towards ETHEL and kisses her on the eyebrow.)

MR. PRICE:     well, well, well! How this takes me hack! I thought it was your mother again, as I knew her years ago. Before the married and before I went to Australia. Prettiest girl in the town she was then— and, mind, I’m not saying she ’as altered much.

ETHEL:            Uncle!

MR. PRICE:     true, my dear.

MR. SPRIGGS: (turning to POTTER and speaking gruffly) this is Mr. Alfred Potter. His as is engaged to Ethel.

MR. PRICE:     (shaking hands) Pleased to know you, sir. Pleased to know you. It’s a most extraordinary thing, but you are the living image of a young friend of mine, jack Bates by name, who has just come in for forty thousand a year.

                        (Mr. and Mrs. SPRIGGS start slightly, and eye each other.)

ETHEL:            (daringly) That’s nearly as much as you’re worth, Uncle, isn’t it?

MR. PRICE:     (shaking his head and pondering) rather more, my dear. Rather more. (There is an impressive silence. Mr. SPRIGGS, who is stooping to get a light from the fire, nearly falls into it. Looking round and shaking his head) Money isn’t everything; it won’t give you ’appiness. It’s not much good, except to give away.

                        (He gazes benevolently of Mr. POTTER.)

ETHEL:            Fancy coming over without saying a word to anybody, and taking us all by surprise, like this!

MR. PRICE:     (simply) I felt I must see you all once more before I died. Just a flying visit I meant it to be—here to-day and gone to-morrow —but your father and mother won’t hear of my going back just yet.

ETHEL:            I should think not!

MR. PRICE:     When I talked of going your father ’eld me down in my chair.

ETHEL:            Quite right too. Now, sit down, Uncle, and tell us about Australia.

                        (Mr. Price seats himself. Ethel and Potter seat themselves, one each side of him. Mr. and Mrs. SPRIGGS sit a little apart.)

MR. POTTER: It’s a big place, sir Australia.

MR. PRICE:     E—normous.                                                                            (Shakes his head)

MR. POTTER: (wistfully) Opportunities?

MR. PRICE:     (pursing his lips) To a smart young man, yes. But, mind you, he mustn’t be afraid of work. If I’d been afraid of work I shouldn’t be where I am now.

MR. SPRIGGS: (forgetting himself) Or where you ’ave been.

MR. PRICE:     Oh, South Africa! …. No, I shouldn’t ’ave been there, neither. (Turns ad glares defiantly at Mr. SPRIGGS.)

                        (Mrs. SPRIGGS rises anxiously and nudges her husband)

MRS. SPRIGGS: Lor’, I’d nearly forgot! George, you promised to look at that kitchen stove for me.

                        (Hustles him out door L.)

MR. PRICE:     (genially) Every man to his trade. Now, I shouldn’t know one end from the other.

ETHEL:            Of course you wouldn’t, Uncle. I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen yours.

MR. PRICE:     Can’t say I have, my dear. It wouldn’t do for me to go prying about in the kitchen. (Grandly) The servants wouldn’t like it. Very touchy in Australia they are. Why, one of my butlers gave me notice because I asked him not to eat peppermint bull’s-eyes when he was waiting at table.

ETHEL:            Fancy!

MR. PRICE:     It didn’t look well—and it smelt worse.

ETHEL:            I suppose you soon got another, Uncle?

MR. PRICE:     Yes, my money is good and I’ve always found you can get anything you want if you pay for it. Besides, it isn’t every butler that has five footmen to help him.

ETHEL:            Five? Why, what do they do?

MR. PRICE:     (shrugging his shoulders) Well, I don’t know as they do much, but they look well about the place. A man in my persition—

MR. POTTER: (nodding) Of course.

MR. PRICE:     As a matter of fact, I don’t want six motor-cars; still, it’s no use having money if you don’t spend it, is it?

                        (Mr. PROTTER and Ethel eye each other in amazement.)

ETHEL:            (wistfully) It must be wonderful to be so rich, Uncle.

MR. PRICE:     Well, well, everybody has their choice. I made my money, and there’s no reason why your young gentleman shouldn’t make his.

MR. POTTER: (timidly) hard work, I suppose, sir?

MR. PRICE:     Ye-es.

MR. POTTER: And saving?

MR. PRICE:     Ye-es. All very good in its way, but the important thing to ’ave is brains!

MR. POTTER: (despondently) Ah!

MR. PRICE:     If you have brains you use ’em. You might save for hundreds of years and not ’ave ’arf what I’ve got. The thing to do is to save a bit to begin with, and them use the money to make more. But if you haven’t got any saved you can’t begin.   (Eyes them furtively)    

ETHEL:            Alfred’s got a little, Uncle.

MR. PRICE:     (fervently) That’s good. I hope it’s a nice little sum.

MR. POTTER: With what I’ve saved, sit, and what an aunt left me, I’ve got two hudred and eighty pounds.

MR. PRICE:     (starts and eyes him) well, well, that’s a beginning. And what are you going to do with it?

ETHEL:            Alfred is going to stay on with Palmer and May’s for another year, and then we shall take a little business of out own.

MR. PRICE:     Quite right, quite right. I like to see young people make their own way; it’s good for them. Still— h’mm!

ETHEL:            (after a pause) Yes, Uncle?

MR. PRICE:     Perhaps a little help, or a little advice, wouldn’t hurt.

MR. POTTER: I’m sure it wouldn’t , sir.

MR. PRICE:     Well, if it was my money I should use it to make more with. When I was your age I ’ad saved about half what you’ve got and in five years I was worth twenty thousand pounds.

ETHEL:           │

│    How?

MR. POTTER  │

MR. PRICE:     (smiling indulgently) By careful but perfectly safe speculation. (Eyes Mr. Potter) But I suppose your little bit is tied up?

MR. POTTER: (eagerly) No sir. Some of it is on deposit in at Building society and the other is in the Savings Bank. I could get it all out in a few days.

                        (Mr. PRICE looks thoughtful. Mr. Potter and Ethel eye him anxiously.)

MR. PRICE:     (slapping his leg and speaking very slowly) Well,  I’ve never done it before, but seeing as how it’s my own niece— in the family, so to speak——

ETHEL:           Oh, Uncle!

MR. PRICE:     If you’re not worth, say, ten thousand in five years you can call me anything you like. If you change your mind at any time, you can have the money back by asking for it, with interest. (ETHEL and Mr. POTTER spring to their feet. Ethel puts her hands on Mr. Price’s shoulder and kisses his cheek; Mr. POTTER takes his outstretched hand. Glancing at kitchen door) and not a word of this to your stand it’s thanks. It always makes me feel so foolish. If you like to tell him after I’ve gone back to Australia you can. (Pauses) His thanks won’t hurt me then.

MR. POTTER: I can never thank you enough, sir. I’ll start getting the money out to-morrow.

MR. PRICE:     (warmly) That’s right. That’s businesss! I can see you’re going to get on. (Looks at door L.) H’sh! Not a word. (Enter Mr and Mrs. Spriggs from door L.) Made a good job of it, George? (Mr. SPRIGGS grunts)            If not, you’d better let me give you a new one.

MR. SPRIGGS: When I want a new stove I’ll buy one. (Turns to Ethel) Wot was your uncle telling you to ’ush about?

ETHEL:            (glancing of Messrs Price and Potter) Nothing.

MR. SPRIGGS: (loudly) Wot was it?

ETHEL:            (uneasily) It’s a secret.

MR. SPRIGGS: I won’t ’ave no secrets in this house. (Turns to Mr. POTTER) Wot was it?

MR. POTTER: (stiffly) It’s a little private business between me and Mr. Price

MR. SPRIGGS: (stammering) Bu-business! You—you haven’t been lending ’im money, ’ave you?

ETHEL:             (laughing scornfully) Don’t be silly, Father! What good would Alfred’s little bit of money be to Uncle Gussie? If you must know, Alfred is drawing it out for Uncle to invest it for him.

MR. POTTER: In his own business.

MR. PRICE:     (with a threatening glance at Mr. SPRIGGS) In Australia.

MR. POTTER: And he didn’t want his generosity to be known (Mr. SPRIGGS chokes, and looks helplessly at his wife. She presses her lips together and frowns at him.)

MR. SPRIGGS: (turning to Mr. POTTER) I —I didn’t know you had got your money handy.

MR. POTTER:  (laughing) I’ll get it all right. You don’t get a chance like this every day. It’s like a fairy-tale.       (Mr. SPRIGGS stands looking from one to the other. He swallows and clears his throat.)

MR. SPRIGGS: I should go careful, Alfred, if I was you. Little and sure is my motter. Every little bit I could manage to put by I took care of.

ETHEL:            (glancing fondly at Mr. PRICE) But you didn’t have an Uncle Gussie!

MR. POTTER: (impatiently) There’s two ways of saving, Mr. Spriggs. There’s your way and there’s Mr. Price’s way.

ETHEL:            Hear, hear!

MR. POTTER: And look at him now.

                        (All turn instinctively and look at Mr. Price. He adopts a modest attitude.)

MR. SPRIGGS: (huskily) Have it your own way. Have it your own way.

MR. PRICE:     And, now, what about drinking the young couple’s health? (ETHEL produces bottle of beer and glasses. She fills them. Holding up his glass) the health of the young couple. My niece, Ethel, and Mr. Alfred Potter, one of the best and smartest young men I’ave ever met. A credit to the Old County. (He empties his glass. Mrs. SPRIGGS sips at hers, nervously eyeing Mr. SPRIGGS, who does not drink. Pointing to glass) George!

MR. SPRIGGS: I don’t want any.

ETHEL:            Father!                                                                                     (All stare at him.)

MR. SPRIGGS: I don’t want any, I tell you. I feel it might go the wrong way.

MR. PRICE:     (softly) Go the wrong way, George? Why, is ought to know the way by this time. (Laughs.)

ETHEL:            Anything the matter, Father?

MR. SPRIGGS: Only the sight of your Uncle Gussie. (Mrs. SPRIGGS makes and half-movement forward. Recovering) so unexpected, I mean —to see ’is nice, honest face again. Gave me quite a shock. I don’t want to drink. I just want to sit and look at him. I can’t quite believe he is real.

MR. PRICE:     (jovially) Well, you can pinch me if you like, just to make sure. Not too ’ard, mind. (Mr. SPRIGGS eyes him for a moment, then moves stealthily towards him. Mr. PRICE, somewhat uneasy, edges away, followed up by Mr. SPRIGGS, who, with a sudden movement, clutches him with his left hand and pinches vigorously with his right. Calling out) Oh! Here! Stop it, d’ye hear —stop it! O-o-h! O-o-oh!

                        (Limps away, and, falling into a chair, rubs himself tenderly. The others gaze in bewilderment.)

ETHEL:            Father!

MRS. SPRIGGS: George!

MR. POTTER: (solemnly) You don’t know your own strength, Mr. Spriggs.

MR. SPRIGGS: Ph-h! I didn’t ’urt ’im. (Advances on Mr. PRICE) I just took hold— —

(Mr. PRICE jumps up and takes refuge behind the astonished Ethel.)

ETHEL:            (strenuously) father! What are you doing?

(Mr. SPRIGGS pulls up short. They are all staring at him in amazement. He sits down, with his face in his hands.)

MRS. SPRIGGS: George! What is the matter with you?

MR. SPRIGGS: (wildly) Oh, I’m ’arf crazy!

(They all approach him, Mr. PRICE keeping behind ETHEL.)

MRS. SPRIGGS: (nervously) Don’t be silly, George! What’s the matter?

MR. SPRIGGS: (desperately) Too—toothache. It’s been coming on all the evening. (Holds his jaw, and rocks to fro.)

ETHEL:            I thought he was acting funny.

MR. POTTER: (wisely) Ha! When he pinched you, Mr. Price, he was in agony.

MR. PRICE:     (sourly) So was I.

ETHEL:            Which tooth is it, Father?

MR. SPRIGGS: The bad one.                                                                            (They all regard him.)

MRS. SPRIGGS: (timidly) P’raps you’d better get to bed. George.

MR. SPRIGGS: I’m not going to bed.

MR. POTTER: Have you tried holding whisky in your mouth? I’ve heard ——

MR. PRICE:     (gently) He couldn’t do it — it ’ud slip down. If you find me a pair of pincers, I’ll take it out for him— with pleasure. I’ve often ’ad to do it in Australia. I took out six running once.

ETHEL:            Oh, Uncle!

MR. PRICE:     That’s nothing—nothing. I ’ad to take a man’s log once. The doctor couldn’t  ’ardly believe his eyes when he saw it! He said it was a miracle.

MR. SPRIGGS: (face savagely contorted) So it was.

MR. PRICE:     (blandly) Tooth still aching. George? Won’t you let me ’ave a go at it? Open your mouth and shut your eyes and I’ll have it out afore you can say ‘Jack Robinson’— or any other words you might ’ave a fancy for.

ETHEL:            Do let him, Father. (Mr. SPRIGGS stares at her.)

MR. POTTER: I’m sure he won’t hurt you.

(Mr. SPRIGGS starts up with an inarticulate cry, snatches his hat from peg, and goes to door R.)

MRS. SPRIGGS: George! Where are you going?

MR. SPRIGGS: (eyeing her wildly) Damntist.                                                                (Exit R.)

MR. PRICE:     Poor George! Some people can’t bear pain.

ETHEL:            I thought he seemed strange — pinching people and all that. It’s a shame you had to suffer, Uncle.

MR. PRICE:     (nobly) Better me than anybody else. I don’t mind pain. I’m used to it. If pinching me done your father’s tooth any good he’s welcome.

MR. POTTER: (much impressed) You have a noble disposition, sir.

MR. PRICE:     No, no. That’s what you learn in Australia. Ah, I wish you could see it! P’raps——

ETHEL:            (eagerly) Perhaps what, Uncle?

MR. PRICE:     (laughing) Well, well, I was thinking, P’raps that next time I come over the two of you might like to go back with me for a visit. I’m a bit lonely sometimes.

ETHEL:            (clasping her hands) Oh, uncle! It sounds like a dream. Isn’t he wonderful, Mother?

MRS. SPRIGGS: (slowly) Yes. He was always wonderful. Sometimes I could ’ardly believe he was my brother. None of us could make him out. 

ETHEL:            (brightly) There! There’s a character for you, Uncle

MR. POTTER: They must have been proud of you, Mr. Price. You must have been, Mrs. Spriggs.

MRS. SPRIGGS: ‘Proud’ isn’t the name for it. (Turning to ETHEL) I hope your father is all right. When you and Alfred go you might keep a look-out for him.

ETHEL:            Yes. I expect he’s walking up and down. I don’t really think he’s gone to a dentist. Much more likely to wait and give it a chance of going off. Come along, Alf, See you later, Uncle Gussie.

                        (ETHEL goes off L, and return putting on hat and coat Mr. PRICE assists, and, shaking hands with Mr. POTTER, sees them off R. He looks at Mrs. SPRIGGS, who is looking at him, and with a jaunty air takes up a position with his back to the fireplace.)

MRS. SPRIGGS: Are you going steal that boy’s money, Gussie?

MR. PRICE:     (shocked)  Steal? No, I’m going to invest it for him. He oughtn’t to ’ave money; he don’t know ’ow to use it.

MRS. SPRIGGS: And what are we going to say to him when he finds he ’as lost it?

MR. PRICE:     I don’t know. P’raps he’ll find fault with you for telling ’im lies about me and Australia. Why not tell ’im the truth now, and save ’im his two ’undred and eighty pounds? (Mrs. SPRIGGS looks down and dabs her eyes with her pocket-handkerchief. Shaking his head and smiling) Sinful pride, Emma, that’s what it is. Sinful pride. Well, well! We all ’ave our faults. (Turns to mantelpiece, and, taking a match, lights his pipe) Even George (puffs) — too careful of money, that’s his trouble. Still — it comes in handy sometimes. It’ll be a pinch for ’im, getting that gold watch and chain for me. (Stands with legs apart and blows out a cloud of smoke) I don’t suppose ’e thought for a moment ’e was saving up for me. And young Potter didn’t, neither. That’s where brains come in. (Crosses to table, fills glass, and drinks) Ha! This is better than quod. Lord! I just came in the nick of time.

                        (Sinks into easy-chair with legs apart as Mr. SPRIGGS enters R.)

MR. PRICE:     ’Ad it out, George?

MR. SPRIGGS: Eh? Oh, the tooth! No, I didn’t ’ave the toothache, Gussie. It was the sight of your nasty, artful little face wot upset me. But it’s all right now.

                        (Nods at wife, then dance one or two clumsy steps.)

MR. PRICE:     (sourly) Come in for a fortune?

MR. SPRIGGS: No, I’ve just saved one. I wonder I didn’t think of it myself.

MR. PRICE:     Think of what?

MR. SPRIGGS: You’ll soon know; and you’ve only got yourself to thank for it.

MRS. SPRIGGS: (trembling) George!

MR. SPRIGGS: It’s all right, old gal, I’ve got out of the difficulty. Nobody’ll suffer but Gussie.

MR. PRICE:     (sharply) Ho?

MR. SPRIGGS: (brightly) Just as I got outside the door I ran into Bill White, the policeman. Being a pal o’ mine, I told ’im all about Gussie.

MR. PRICE:     (leaping from his chair) What?

MR. SPRIGGS: Acting under his advice, I told ’im that Augustus Price, ticket-of-leave man, was trying to obtain money under false pretences. I told ’im to tell the Inspector — as soon as he goes off duty.

MR. PRICE:     You—you——

MR. SPRIGGS: (with much enjoyment) the beauty o’ that, as Bill says, is that Gussie’ll ’ave to set out on ’is travels again. He’ll have to go into hiding, because if they catch ’im he’ll ’ave to finish ’is time. And Bill says if he writes letters to any of us it’ll only make it easier to find him. You’d better take the first train to Australia, Gusssie.

MR. PRICE:     (breathlessly) What —–what time does he go off duty?

MR. SPRIGGS: (glancing at clock) About ten minutes. I reckon you’ve just got time. (Mr. PRICE snatches up his hat, gives them a poisoness glance, opens door R., and after carefully looking out closes it noiselessly behind him. To wife) Remember: called away to Australia by special telegram. Couldn’t wait to say good-bye.

MRS. SPRIGGS: Oh, George! Is Mr. White really going to tell the Inspector?

MR. SPRIGGS: I wonder?

—:CURTAIN:—

A DISTANT RELATIVE – W. W. Jacobs

Glossary

Oleographs:      pictures printed (not painted) on cloth in oil-colours

scuffling:          struggling with each other, playfully

vindictive:        trying to harm or upset sb. Or showing that you want to, because you think that they have harmed you.             (syn. spiteful)

get spliced:       (old fashioned) -to get married

draught:            a flow of cool air in a room or other confined space.

--- a cold draught of air blew in from the open window.

antimacassar:    covering to protect the back of arm of a chair from grease marks.

chuck:              throw

To throw sth carelessly or without much thought.

*He chucked the paper in a drawer.  *chuck me the newspaper, would you?

Chuck sb off/ Chuck sb out to force sb to leave a place or a job

ticket -of- leave: permission given to a prisoner who has served part of his sentence to have his freedom

                              with certain restrictions (parole)

doleful:            /doulful/ mournful

                        A doleful expression/face/song. * a doleful looking man.

raspy:               croaky

Having a rough sound, as if the person has a sore throat.

touched me:      got money from me (by begging)

(it is almost touching my toes with my nose. (impossible/difficult)

groan:               moan

                        To make a long deep sound because you are annoyed, upset or in pain or with pleasure

wink:                to close one eye and open it again quickly

contort:            to become twisted or make sth twisted out of its natural or normal shape

·         His face contorted with anger * His mouth contorted in snarl

·         Contorted limbs/ bodies

Jiggered:           surprised

·         I’ll be Jiggered!

·         used to show surprise.

Jiggery:            pokery (dishonest behaviour

embellish:        decorate to make sth more beautiful by adding decorations to it.

·         To make a store interesting by adding details that are not always true.

spats:                a cloth covering for the ankle that was worn in the past by men over the shoe and fastened with buttons at the side.

facetiously:       humorously; as a joke

black sheep:     good for nothing person

affably:            politely; in a friendly way

quid:                pounds (slang word which remains unchanged in the singular or plural; hence ‘one quid’, ‘two quid’).

consternation:   surprise and fear

come in for:      inherited

benevolently:    in a kind way

pursing his lips: drawing the lips together, to express severity

or where…. been: Mr. Spriggs refers to the prison

genially:           kindly, sympathetically

peppermint bull’s eyes: large round peppermint sweets

despondently:   dejectedly; hopelessly

furtively:          secretly, stealthily

tied up:             i.e. invested, and not readily available

Old Country:    England; the original home of many Australian immigrants

’ave a go at it:   make an attempt (to pull the tooth out)

afore you can say ‘Jack Robinson’: very quickly.

jaunty air:         a look of self-confidence and self-satisfaction.

quod:               slang for prison

finish ’is time: complete his prison time

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