East of Suez: A Play in Seven Scenes

William Somerset Maugham

East of Suez: A Play in Seven Scenes

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

Daisy

George Conway

Henry Anderson

Harold Knox

Lee Tai Cheng

Sylvia Knox

Amah

Wu

The action of the play takes place in Peking

SCENE I

Scene: A street in Peking

Several shops are shown. Their fronts are richly decorated with carved wood painted red and profusely gilt. The counters are elaborately carved. Outside are huge sign-boards. The shops are open to the street and you can see the various wares they sell. One is a coffin shop, where the coolies are at work on a coffin: other coffins, ready for sale, are displayed; some of them are of plain deal, others are rich, with black and gold. The next shop is a money changer's. Then there is a lantern shop in which all manner of coloured lanterns are hanging. After this comes a druggist where there are queer things in bottles and dried herbs. A small stuffed crocodile is a prominent object. Next to this is a shop where crockery is sold, large coloured jars, plates, and all manner of strange animals. In all the shops two or three Chinamen are seated. Some read newspapers through great horn spectacles; some smoke water pipes.

The street is crowded. Here is an itinerant cook with his two chests, in one of which is burning charcoal: he serves out bowls of rice and condiments to the passers-by who want food. There is a barber with the utensils of his trade. A coolie, seated on a stool, is having his head shaved. Chinese walk to and fro.

Some are coolies and wear blue cotton in various stages of raggedness; some in black gowns and caps and black shoes are merchants and clerks. There is a beggar, gaunt and thin, with an untidy mop of bristly hair, in tatters of indescribable filthiness. He stops at one of the shops and begins a long wail. For a time no one takes any notice of him, but presently on a word from the fat shopkeeper an assistant gives him a few cash and he wanders on. Coolies, half naked, hurry by, bearing great bales on their yokes. They utter little sharp cries for people to get out of their way. Peking carts with their blue hoods rumble noisily along. Rickshaws pass rapidly in both directions, and the rickshaw boys shout for the crowd to make way. In the rickshaws are grave Chinese. Some are dressed in white ducks after the European fashion; in other rickshaws are Chinese women in long smocks and wide trousers or Manchu ladies, with their faces painted like masks, in embroidered silks. Women of various sorts stroll about the street or enter the shops. You see them chaffering for various articles.

A water-carrier passes along with a creaking barrow, slopping the water as he goes; an old blind woman, a masseuse, advances slowly, striking wooden clappers to proclaim her calling. A musician stands on the curb and plays a tuneless melody on a one-stringed fiddle. From the distance comes the muffled sound of gongs. There is a babel of sound caused by the talking of all these people, by the cries of coolies, the gong, the clappers, and the fiddle. From burning joss-sticks in the shops in front of the household god comes a savour of incense.

A couple of Mongols ride across on shaggy ponies; they wear high boots and Astrakhan caps. Then a string of camels sways slowly down the street. They carry great burdens of skins from the deserts of Mongolia. They are accompanied by wild looking fellows. Two stout Chinese gentlemen are giving their pet birds an airing; the birds are attached by the leg with a string and sit on little wooden perches. The two Chinese gentlemen discuss their merits. Round about them small boys play. They run hither and thither pursuing one another amid the crowd.

END OF SCENE I

SCENE II

A small verandah on an upper storey of the British American Tobacco Company's premises, the upper part of which the staff lives in. At the back are heavy arches of whitewashed masonry and a low wall which serves as a parapet. Green blinds are drawn. There is a bamboo table on which are copies of illustrated papers. A couple of long bamboo chairs and two or three smaller arm chairs. The floor is tiled.

On one of the long chairs Harold Knox is lying asleep. He is a young man of pleasing appearance. He wears white ducks, but he has taken off his coat, which lies on a chair, and his collar and tie and pin. They are on the table by his side. He is troubled by a fly and, half waking but with his eyes still closed, tries to drive it away.

Knox. Curse it. [He opens his eyes and yawns.] Boy!

Wu. [Outside.] Ye.

Knox. What's the time?

[Wu comes in; he is a Chinese servant in a long white gown with a black cap on his head. He bears a tray on which is a bottle of whisky, a glass and a syphon.]

Wu. My no sabe.

Knox. Anyhow it's time for a whisky and soda. [Wu puts the tray down on the table. Knox smiles.] Intelligent anticipation. Model servant and all that sort of thing. [Wu pours out the whisky.] You don't care if I drink myself to death, Wu – do you? [Wu smiles, showing all his teeth.] Fault of the climate. Give me the glass. [Wu does so.] You're like a mother to me, Wu. [He drinks and puts down the glass.] By George, I feel another man. The bull-dog breed, Wu. Never say die. Rule Britannia. Pull up the blinds, you lazy blighter. The sun's off and the place is like a oven.

[Wu goes over and pulls up one blind after the other. An expanse of blue sky is seen. Henry Anderson comes in. He is a man of thirty, fair, good-looking, with a pleasant, honest face. His obvious straightforwardness and sincerity make him attractive.]

Harry. [Breezily.] Hulloa, Harold, you seem to be taking it easy.

Knox. There was nothing to do in the office and I thought I'd get in my beauty sleep while I had the chance.

Harry. I thought you had your beauty sleep before midnight.

Knox. I'm taking time by the forelock so as to be on the safe side.

Harry. Are you going on the loose again to-night?

Knox. Again, Henry?

Harry. You were blind last night.

Knox. [With great satisfaction.] Paralytic… Hulloa, who's this? [He catches sight of the Amah who has just entered. She is a little, thin, wrinkled, elderly Chinawoman in a long smock and trousers. She has gold pins in her sleek black hair. When she sees she has been noticed she smiles obsequiously.] Well, fair charmer, what can we do for you?

Harry. What does she want, Wu?

Knox. Is this the face that launched a thousand ships?

Amah. My Missy have pay my letter.

Harry. [With sudden eager interest.] Are you Mrs. Rathbone's amah? Have you got a letter for me?

Amah. My belong Missy Rathbone amah.

Harry. Well, hurry up, don't be all night about it. Lend me a dollar, Harold. I want to give it to the old girl.

[The Amah takes a note out of her sleeve and gives it to Harry. He opens it and reads.

Knox. I haven't got a dollar. Give her a chit or ask Wu. He's the only man I know who's got any money.

Harry. Let me have a dollar, Wu. Chop-chop.

Wu. My go catchee.

[He goes out. The Amah is standing near the table. While Knox and Harry go on talking she notices Knox's pin. She smiles and smiles and makes little bows to the two men, but at the same time her hand cautiously reaches out for the pin and closes on it. Then she secretes it in her sleeve.

Harry. I thought you were going to play tennis this afternoon.

Knox. So I am later on.

Harry. [Smiling.] Do it now, dear boy. That is a precept a business man should never forget.

Knox. I should hate to think you wanted to be rid of me.

Harry. I dote on your company, but I feel that I mustn't be selfish.

Knox. [Pulling his leg.] To tell you the truth I don't feel very fit to-day.

Harry. A little bilious, I dare say. Half a dozen hard sets are just what you want. [He hands Knox his coat.]

Knox. What is this?

Harry. Your coat.

Knox. You're making yourself almost more distressingly plain than nature has already made you.

[Wu comes back and hands Harry a dollar, and then goes out. Harry gives the dollar to the Amah.

Harry. Here's a dollar for you, amah. You go back to missy and tell her it's all right and will she come chop-chop. Sabe?

Amah. My sabe. Goo'-bye.

Knox. God bless you, dearie. It's done me good to see your winsome little face.

Harry. [With a smile.] Shut up, Harold.

[The Amah with nods, smiles and bows, goes out.

Knox. Harry, my poor friend, is it possible that you have an assignation?

Harry. What is possible is that if you don't get out quick I'll throw you out.

Knox. Why didn't you say you were expecting a girl?

Harry. I'm not; I'm expecting a lady.

Knox. Are you sure you know how to behave? If you'd like me to stay and see you don't do the wrong thing I'll chuck my tennis. I'm always ready to sacrifice myself for a friend.

Harry. Has it struck you that the distance from the verandah to the street is very considerable?

Knox. And the pavement is hard. I flatter myself I can take a hint. I wonder where the devil my pin is. I left it on the table.

Harry. I expect Wu put it away.

Knox. It's much more likely that old woman pinched it.

Harry. Oh, nonsense. She wouldn't dream of such a thing. I believe Mrs. Rathbone's had her for ages.

Knox. Who is Mrs. Rathbone?

Harry. [Not wishing to be questioned.] A friend of mine.

[George Conway comes in. He is a tall, dark man in the early thirties. He is a handsome, well-built fellow, of a somewhat rugged appearance, but urbane and self-assured.

George. May I come in?

Harry. [Eagerly, shaking him warmly by the hand.] At last. By Jove, it's good to see you again. You know Knox, don't you?

George. I think so.

Knox. I wash bottles in the B. A. T. I don't expect the legation bloods to be aware of my existence.

George. [With a twinkle in his eye.] I don't know that an Assistant Chinese Secretary is such a blood as all that.

Knox. You've just been down to Fuchow, haven't you?

George. Yes, I only got back this morning.

Knox. Did you see Freddy Baker by any chance?

George. Yes, poor chap.

Knox. Oh, I've got no pity for him. He's just a damned fool.

Harry. Why?

Knox. Haven't you heard? He's married a half-caste.

Harry. What of it? I believe she's a very pretty girl.

Knox. I daresay she is. But hang it all, he needn't have married her.

George. I don't think it was a very wise thing to do.

Harry. I should have thought all those prejudices were out of date. Why shouldn't a man marry a half-caste if he wants to?

Knox. It can't be very nice to have a wife whom even the missionary ladies turn up their noses at.

Harry. [With a shrug of the shoulders.] You wait till Freddy's number one in Hankow and can entertain. I bet the white ladies will be glad enough to know his missus then.

George. Yes, but that's just it. He'll never get a good job with a Eurasian wife.

Harry. He's in Jardine's, isn't he? Do you mean to say it's going to handicap a man in a shipping firm because he's married a woman who's partly Chinese?

George. Of course it is. Jardine's are about the most important firm in China and the manager of one of their principal branches has definite social obligations. Freddy Baker will be sent to twopenny halfpenny outports where his wife doesn't matter.

Knox. I think he's damned lucky if he's not asked to resign.

Harry. It's cruel. His wife may be a charming and cultivated woman.

Knox. Have you ever known a half-caste that was?

Harry. I have.

Knox. Well, I've been in this country for seven years and I've never met one, male or female, that didn't give me the shivers.

Harry. I've no patience with you. You're a perfect damned fool.

Knox. [A little surprised, but quite good-humoured.] You're getting rather excited, aren't you?

Harry. [Hotly.] I hate injustice.

George. Do you think it really is injustice? The English are not an unkindly race. If they've got a down on half-castes there are probably very good grounds for it.

Harry. What are they?

Knox. We don't much like their morals, but we can't stick their manners.

George. Somehow or other they seem to inherit all the bad qualities of the two races from which they spring and none of the good ones. I'm sure there are exceptions, but on the whole the Eurasian is vulgar and noisy. He can't tell the truth if he tries.

Knox. To do him justice, he seldom tries.

George. He's as vain as a peacock. He'll cringe when he's afraid of you and he'll bully when he's not. You can never rely on him. He's crooked from the crown of his German hat to the toes of his American boots.

Knox. Straight from the shoulder. Take the count, old man.

Harry. [Frigidly.] Oughtn't you to be going?

Knox. [Smiling.] No, but I will.

Harry. I'm sorry if I was rude to you just now, old man.

Knox. Silly ass, you've broken no bones; my self-esteem, thank God, is unimpaired. [He goes out.

Harry. I say, I'm awfully glad you're back, George. You can't think how I miss you when you're away.

George. As soon as the shooting starts we'll try and get two or three days together in the country.

Harry. Yes, that would be jolly. [Calling.] Wu.

Wu. [Outside.] Ye'.

Harry. Bring tea for three.

George. Who is the third?

Harry. When you said you could come round I asked somebody I want you very much to meet.

George. Who is that?

Harry. Mrs. Rathbone … I'm going to be married to her and we want you to be our best man.

George. Harry.

Harry. [Boyishly.] I thought you'd be surprised.

George. My dear old boy, I am so glad. I hope you'll be awfully happy.

Harry. I'm awfully happy now.

George. Why have you kept it so dark?

Harry. I didn't want to say anything till it was all settled. Besides, I've only known her six weeks. I met her when I was down in Shanghai…

George. Is she a widow?

Harry. Yes, she was married to an American in the F. M. S.

George. Is she American?

Harry. Only by marriage. I'm afraid she didn't have a very happy married life.

George. Poor thing. I think I'd take a small bet that you won't beat her.

Harry. I mean to try my best to make her happy.

George. You old fool, I've never known a man who was likely to make a better husband.

Harry. I'm most awfully in love with her, George.

George. Isn't that ripping? How old is she?

Harry. Only twenty-two. She's the loveliest thing you ever saw.

George. And is she in love with you?

Harry. She says so.

George. She damned well ought to be.

Harry. I do hope you'll like her, George.

George. Of course I shall. You're not the sort of chap to fall in love with a woman who isn't nice.

[Harry walks up and down for a moment restlessly.

Harry. Will you have a whisky and soda?

George. No, thanks … I'll wait for tea.

Harry. She ought to be here in a moment. [Suddenly making up his mind.] It's no good beating about the bush. I may as well tell you at once. Her – her mother was Chinese.

George. [Unable to conceal his dismay.] Oh, Harry. [A pause.] I wish I hadn't said all that I did just now.

Harry. Of course you didn't know.

George. [Gravely.] I should have had to say something very like it, Harry. But I shouldn't have put it so bluntly.

Harry. You said yourself there were exceptions.

George. I know. [Distressed.] Won't your people be rather upset?

Harry. I don't see how it can matter to them. They're nine thousand miles away.

George. Who was her father?

Harry. Oh, he was a merchant. He's dead. And her mother is too.

George. That's something. I don't think you'd much like having a Chinese mother-in-law about the place.

Harry. George, you won't let it make any difference, will you? We've known one another all our lives.

George. My dear old chap, as far as I'm concerned I shouldn't care if you married the first cousin of the Ace of Spades. I don't want you to make a hash of things.

Harry. Wait till you see her. She's the most fascinating thing you ever met.

George. Yes, they can be charming. I was awfully in love with a half – with a Eurasian girl myself years ago. It was before you came out to the country. I wanted to marry her.

Harry. Why didn't you?

George. It was up in Chung-king. I'd just been appointed vice-consul. I was only twenty-three. The Minister wired from Peking that I'd have to resign if I did. I hadn't a bob except my salary and they transferred me to Canton to get me away.

Harry. It's different for you. You're in the service and you may be Minister one of these days. I'm only a merchant.

George. Even for you there'll be difficulties, you know. Has it occurred to you that the white ladies won't be very nice?

Harry. I can do without their society.

George. You must know some people. It means you'll have to hobnob with Eurasian clerks and their wives. I'm afraid you'll find it pretty rotten.

Harry. If you'll stick to me I don't care.

George. I suppose you've absolutely made up your mind?

Harry. Absolutely.

George. In that case I've got nothing more to say. You can't expect me not to be a little disappointed, but after all the chief thing is your happiness, and whatever I can do I will. You can put your shirt on that.

Harry. You're a brick, George.

George. The little lady ought to be here, oughtn't she?

Harry. I think I hear her on the stairs.

[He goes to the entrance and then out. Wu brings in the tea and sets it on the table. George walks over to the parapet and looks thoughtfully before him. There is a sound of voices in the adjoining room.

Harry. [Outside.] Come in; he's on the verandah.

Daisy. [Outside.] One brief look in the glass and then I'm ready.

[Harry enters.

Harry. She's just coming.

George. I bet she's powdering her nose.

Daisy. Here I am.

[Daisy enters. She is an extremely pretty woman, beautifully, perhaps a little showily, dressed. She has a pale, very clear, slightly sallow skin, and beautiful dark eyes. There is only the very faintest suspicion in them of the Chinese slant. Her hair is abundant and black.

Harry. This is George Conway, Daisy.

[George stares at her. At first he is not quite sure that he recognizes her, then suddenly he does, but only the slightest movement of the eyes betrays him.

Daisy. How do you do. I told Harry I had an idea I must have met you somewhere. I don't think I have after all.

Harry. George flatters himself he's not easily forgotten.

Daisy. But I've heard so much about you from Harry that I feel as though we were old friends.

George. It's very kind of you to say so.

Harry. Supposing you poured out the tea, Daisy.

George. I'm dying for a cup.

[She sits down and proceeds to do so.

Daisy. Harry is very anxious that you should like me.

Harry. George and I have known one another since we were kids. His people and mine live quite close to one another at home.

Daisy. But I'm not blaming you. I'm only wondering how I shall ingratiate myself with him.

Harry. He looks rather severe, but he isn't really. I think you've only got to be your natural charming self.

Daisy. Have you told him about the house?

Harry. No. [To George.] You know the temple the Harrisons used to have. We've taken that.

George. Oh, it's a ripping place. But won't you find it rather a nuisance to have those old monks on the top of you all the time?

Harry. Oh, I don't think so. Our part is quite separate, you know, and the Harrisons made it very comfortable.

[Harold Knox comes in. He has changed into tennis things.

Knox. I say, Harry … [He sees Daisy.] Oh, I beg your pardon.

Harry. Mr. Knox – Mrs. Rathbone.

[Knox gives her a curt nod, but she holds out her hand affably. He takes it.

Daisy. How do you do.

Knox. I'm sorry to disturb you, Harry, but old Ku Faung Min is downstairs and wants to see you.

Harry. Tell him to go to blazes. The office is closed.

Knox. He's going to Hankow to-night and he says he must see you before he goes. He's got some big order to give.

Harry. Oh, curse him. I know what he is. He'll keep me talking for half an hour. D'you mind if I leave you?

Daisy. Of course not. It'll give me a chance of making Mr. Conway's acquaintance.

Harry. I'll get rid of him as quickly as I can.

[He goes out accompanied by Knox.

Knox. [As he goes.] Good-bye.

[George looks at Daisy for a moment. She smiles at him. There is a silence.

George. Why didn't you warn me that it was you I was going to meet?

Daisy. I didn't know what you'd say about me to Harry if you knew.

George. It was rather a risk, wasn't it? Supposing I'd blurted out the truth.

Daisy. I trusted to your diplomatic training. Besides, I'd prepared for it. I told him I thought I'd met you.

George. Harry and I have been pals all our lives. I brought him out to China and I got him his job. When he had cholera he would have died if I hadn't pulled him through.

Daisy. I know. And in return he worships the ground you tread on. I've never known one man think so much of another as he does of you.

George. All that's rot, of course. Sometimes I don't know how I'm going to live up to the good opinion Harry has of me. But when you've done so much for a pal as I have for him it gives you an awful sense of responsibility towards him.

Daisy. What do you mean by that?

[A short pause.

George. I'm not going to let you marry him.

Daisy. He's so much in love with me that he doesn't know what to do with himself.

George. I know he is. But if you were in love with him you wouldn't be so sure of it.

Daisy. [With a sudden change of tone.] Why not? I was sure of your love. And God knows I was in love with you.

[George makes a gesture of dismay. He is taken aback for a moment, but he quickly recovers.

George. You don't know what sort of a man Harry is. He's not like the fellows you've been used to. He's never knocked around as most of us do. He's always been as straight as a die.

Daisy. I know.

George. Have mercy on him. Even if there were nothing else against you he's not the sort of chap for you to marry. He's awfully English.

Daisy. If he doesn't mind marrying a Eurasian I really don't see what business it is of yours.

George. But you know very well that that isn't the only thing against you.

Daisy. I haven't an idea what you mean.

George. Haven't you? You forget the war. When we heard there was a very pretty young woman, apparently with plenty of money, living at the Hong Kong Hotel on very familiar terms with a lot of naval fellows, it became our business to make enquiries. I think I know everything there is against you.

Daisy. Have you any right to make use of information you've acquired officially?

George. Don't be a fool, Daisy.

Daisy. [Passionately.] Tell him then. You'll break his heart. You'll make him utterly wretched. But he'll marry me all the same. When a man's as much in love as he is he'll forgive everything.

George. I think it's horrible. If you loved him you couldn't marry him. It's heartless.

Daisy. [Violently.] How dare you say that? You. You. You know what I am. Yes, it's all true. I don't know what you know but it can't be worse than the truth. And whose fault is it? Yours. If I'm rotten it's you who made me rotten.