Paul Scott (1920-1978) won the Booker Prize shortly before his death and acquired posthumous fame when the ‘Raj Quartet’ – his tetralogy of novels about the final years of British rule in India – was televised in 1984.
The first in the sequence is ‘The Jewel in the Crown’ (1966), which gave its name to the television series.
The action takes place in and around a fictional Indian town called Mayapore, the administrative centre of an unnamed Indian province. This has clearly defined, entirely separate residential areas for the British, the Eurasian (mixed race) community and the native Indians.
The novel begins by tracing the career of Edwina Crane, a woman in her late 50s who first arrived in India in 1907. She was then employed as a ‘nurse-companion’, but ultimately becomes a mission school superintendent.
It subsequently features two starcrossed lovers: Daphne Manners, a clumsy, large-boned, English orphan who arrives from England in 1941 to live with her aunt, subsequently taking up a voluntary role in Mayapore Hospital; and Hari Kumar, a strikingly handsome young Indian who has lived in England throughout his childhood, even attending an English public school. When his father’s business failures result in suicide, the penniless young Kumar is forced to return to India. He also goes to live with an aunt who lives in the Indian part of Mayapore.
Such is the endemic racism of the Raj; so rigid the enforced apartheid between the Indian and British communities that Hari, by virtue of his skin colour, is excluded from the society of those whose background he shares.
His nemesis is Ronald Merrick, the over-zealous and faintly creepy District Superintendent of Police. Already suspicious of Hari’s motives, Merrick’s professional interest becomes intensely personal once Daphne rejects his marriage proposal. He warns her against consorting with Hari.
The narrative reaches its climax in the summer of 1942, when the British authorities decide to arrest prominent members of the Indian National Congress, fearful that India will refuse to fight with the British against the Japanese, who are advancing through Burma.
These arrests prompts serious civil unrest, which eventually brings about the destruction of both women.
Edwina Crane witnesses the murder of an Indian teacher who sacrifices himself to protect her. Contrite because she has disliked him, she holds the dead man’s hand until rescued. She contracts pneumonia but, following her recovery, is perceived to be ‘mad’. Ultimately, she kills herself by emulating suttee.
Meanwhile, Daphne and Hari draw closer together, trying to overcome the insurmountable obstacles in the path of their relationship. Eventually, they consummate their love in the Bibaghar Gardens, only to be jumped by a gang of thugs. They tie up Hari before raping Daphne in front of him.
Fearing that he will be implicated in the rape by Merrick, Daphne lies to protect him, insisting that he does the same. He is tortured anyway, and imprisoned alongside five other innocent suspects, not on grounds of rape but because they are suspected of trying to undermine the Raj.
By the end of the book Hari has disappeared into the penal system. Finding herself pregnant, Daphne eventually gives birth to a mixed-race daughter, Parvati, only to die as a consequence of childbirth.
The narrative takes several different forms, the voice of the omniscient narrator often replaced and supplemented by the apparent testimony – both verbal and written – of various characters. This largely works well, but can occasionally seem a little clumsy.
The tragic love story at the heart of the book clearly owes something to ‘A Passage to India’ (1924) by E M Forster, which focuses on the trial of Dr Aziz, suspected of assaulting Adela Quested in the Malabar Caves.
It is an outstanding novel in all respects – excellently written, deeply moving and thought-provoking. It is essential reading for those seeking to understand India as it was in the years immediately prior to independence and partition.
TD
October 2024
Postscript, December 2024
Having now completed all four volumes of ‘The Raj Quartet’ – The Jewel in the Crown (1966), The Day of the Scorpion (1968), The Towers of Silence (1971) and A Division of the Spoils (1975) – my admiration for Scott’s work has only increased.
By the later stages of this tetralogy, his consummate skill in developing and sustaining an extended narrative has reached a level almost unparalleled.
He kept this discerning reader utterly gripped throughout, even until the final pages.
Despite the televising of these books some 40 years ago, Scott remains underrated and is now perhaps unfashionable too. In my humble opinion, he strongly deserves to be more celebrated than he is.
TD
timdracup.com 