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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Press Cuttings + +Author: George Bernard Shaw + +Release Date: May 28, 2009 [EBook #5723] +Last Updated: December 10, 2012 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRESS CUTTINGS *** + + + + +Produced by Eve Sobol, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + PRESS CUTTINGS + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Bernard Shaw + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + 1913 + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <div class="mynote"> + <p> + TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: The edition from which this etext was taken lacks + contractions, so it reads dont for don't and Ill for I'll, for example. + The play has been reproduced exactly as printed. + </p> + <br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + The forenoon of the first of April, 1911. + </p> + <p> + General Mitchener is at his writing table in the War Office, opening + letters. On his left is the fireplace, with a fire burning. On his right, + against the opposite wall is a standing desk with an office stool. The + door is in the wall behind him, half way between the table and the desk. + The table is not quite in the middle of the room: it is nearer to the + hearthrug than to the desk. There is a chair at each end of it for persons + having business with the general. There is a telephone on the table. Long + silence. + </p> + <p> + A VOICE OUTSIDE. Votes for Women! + </p> + <p> + The General starts convulsively; snatches a revolver from a drawer, and + listens in an agony of apprehension. Nothing happens. He puts the revolver + back, ashamed; wipes his brow; and resumes his work. He is startled afresh + by the entry of an Orderly. This Orderly is an unsoldierly, slovenly, + discontented young man. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Oh, it's only you. Well? + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Another one, sir. Shes chained herself. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Chained herself? How? To what? Weve taken away the railings and + everything that a chain can be passed through. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. We forgot the doorscraper, sir. She laid down on the flags + and got the chain through before she started hollerin. Shes lying there + now; and she says that youve got the key of the padlock in a letter in a + buff envelope, and that you will see her when you open it. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Shes mad. Have the scraper dug up and let her go home with it + hanging round her neck. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Theres a buff envelope there, sir. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Youre all afraid of these women (picking the letter up). It + does seem to have a key in it. (He opens the letter, and takes out a key + and a note.) "Dear Mitch"—Well, I'm dashed! + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Yes Sir. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. What do you mean by Yes Sir? + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Well, you said you was dashed, Sir; and you did look if youll + excuse my saying it, Sir—well, you looked it. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (who has been reading the letter, and is too astonished to + attend to the Orderlys reply). This is a letter from the Prime Minister + asking me to release the woman with this key if she padlocks herself, and + to have her shown up and see her at once. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY (tremulously). Dont do it, governor. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (angrily). How often have I ordered you not to address me as + governor. Remember that you are a soldier and not a vulgar civilian. + Remember also that when a man enters the army he leaves fear behind him. + Heres the key. Unlock her and show her up. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Me unlock her! I dursent. Lord knows what she'd do to me. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (pepperily, rising). Obey your orders instantly, Sir, and dont + presume to argue. Even if she kills you, it is your duty to die for your + country. Right about face. March. (The Orderly goes out, trembling.) + </p> + <p> + THE VOICE OUTSIDE. Votes for Women! Votes for Women! Votes for Women! + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (mimicking her). Votes for Women! Votes for Women! Votes for + Women! (in his natural voice) Votes for children! Votes for babies! Votes + for monkeys! (He posts himself on the hearthrug, and awaits the enemy.) + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY (outside). In you go. (He pushes a panting Suffraget into the + room.) The person sir. (He withdraws.) + </p> + <p> + The Suffraget takes off her tailor made skirt and reveals a pair of + fashionable trousers. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (horrified). Stop, madam. What are you doing? You must not + undress in my presence. I protest. Not even your letter from the Prime + Minister— + </p> + <p> + THE SUFFRAGET. My dear Mitchener: I AM the Prime Minister. (He tears off + his hat and cloak; throws them on the desk; and confronts the General in + the ordinary costume of a Cabinet minister.) + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Good heavens! Balsquith! + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (throwing himself into Mitchener's chair). Yes: it is indeed + Balsquith. It has come to this: that the only way that the Prime Minister + of England can get from Downing Street to the War Office is by assuming + this disguise; shrieking "VOTES for Women"; and chaining himself to your + doorscraper. They were at the corner in force. They cheered me. + Bellachristina herself was there. She shook my hand and told me to say I + was a vegetarian, as the diet was better in Holloway for vegetarians. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Why didnt you telephone? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. They tap the telephone. Every switchboard in London is in their + hands or in those of their young men. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Where on Earth did you get that dress? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. I stole it from a little Exhibition got up by my wife in + Downing Street. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. You dont mean to say its a French dress? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Great Heavens, no. My wife isnt allowed even to put on her + gloves with French chalk. Everything labelled Made in Camberwell. She + advised me to come to you. And what I have to say must be said here to you + personally, in the most intimate confidence, with the most urgent + persuasion. Mitchener: Sandstone has resigned. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (amazed). Old Red resigned! + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Resigned. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. But how? Why? Oh, impossible! the proclamation of martial law + last Tuesday made Sandstone virtually Dictator in the metropolis, and to + resign now is flat desertion. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Yes, yes, my dear Mitchener; I know all that as well as you do: + I argued with him until I was black in the face and he so red about the + neck that if I had gone on he would have burst. He is furious because we + have abandoned his plan. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. But you accepted it unconditionally. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Yes, before we knew what it was. It was unworkable, you know. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. I dont know. Why is it unworkable? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. I mean the part about drawing a cordon round Westminster at a + distance of two miles; and turning all women out of it. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. A masterpiece of strategy. Let me explain. The Suffragets are a + very small body; but they are numerous enough to be troublesome—even + dangerous—when they are all concentrated in one place—say in + Parliament Square. But by making a two-mile radius and pushing them beyond + it, you scatter their attack over a circular line twelve miles long. A + superb piece of tactics. Just what Wellington would have done. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. But the women wont go. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Nonsense: they must go. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. They wont. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. What does Sandstone say? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. He says: Shoot them down. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Of course. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Youre not serious? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Im perfectly serious. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. But you cant shoot them down! Women, you know! + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (straddling confidently). Yes you can. Strange as it may seem to + you as a civilian, Balsquith, if you point a rifle at a woman and fire it, + she will drop exactly as a man drops. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. But suppose your own daughters—Helen and Georgina. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. My daughters would not dream of disobeying the proclamation. + (As an after thought.) At least Helen wouldnt. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. But Georgina? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Georgina would if she knew shed be shot if she didnt. Thats how + the thing would work. Military methods are really the most merciful in the + end. You keep sending these misguided women to Holloway and killing them + slowly and inhumanely by ruining their health; and it does no good: they + go on worse than ever. Shoot a few, promptly and humanely; and there will + be an end at once of all resistance and of all the suffering that + resistance entails. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. But public opinion would never stand it. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (walking about and laying down the law). Theres no such thing as + public opinion. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. No such thing as public opinion!! + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Absolutely no such thing as public opinion. There are certain + persons who entertain certain opinions. Well, shoot them down. When you + have shot them down, there are no longer any persons entertaining those + opinions alive: consequently there is no longer any more of the public + opinion you are so much afraid of. Grasp that fact, my dear Balsquith; and + you have grasped the secret of government. Public opinion is mind. Mind is + inseparable from matter. Shoot down the matter and you kill the mind. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. But hang it all— + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (intolerantly). No I wont hang it all. It's no use coming to me + and talking about public opinion. You have put yourself into the hands of + the army; and you are committed to military methods. And the basis of all + military methods is that when people wont do what they are told to do, you + shoot them down. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Oh, yes; it's all jolly fine for you and Old Red. You dont + depend on votes for your places. What do you suppose will happen at the + next election? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Have no next election. Bring in a Bill at once repealing all + the reform Acts and vesting the Government in a properly trained + magistracy responsible only to a Council of War. It answers perfectly in + India. If anyone objects, shoot him down. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. But none of the members of my party would be on the Council of + War. Neither should I. Do you expect us to vote for making ourselves + nobodies? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. You'll have to, sooner or later, or the Socialists will make + nobodies of the lot of you by collaring every penny you possess. Do you + suppose this damned democracy can be allowed to go on now that the mob is + beginning to take it seriously and using its power to lay hands on + property? Parliament must abolish itself. The Irish parliament voted for + its own extinction. The English parliament will do the same if the same + means are taken to persuade it. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. That would cost a lot of money. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Not money necessarily. Bribe them with titles. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Do you think we dare? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (scornfully). Dare! Dare! What is life but daring, man? "To + dare, to dare, and again to dare"— + </p> + <p> + WOMAN'S VOICE OUTSIDE. Votes for Women! + </p> + <p> + Mitchener, revolver in hand, rushes to the door and locks it. Balsquith + hides under the table. + </p> + <p> + A shot is heard. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (emerging in the greatest alarm). Good heavens, you havent given + orders to fire on them have you? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. No; but its a sentinel's duty to fire on anyone who persists in + attempting to pass without giving the word. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (wiping his brow). This military business is really awful. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Be calm, Balsquith. These things must happen; they save + bloodshed in the long run, believe me. Ive seen plenty of it; and I know. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. I havent; and I dont know. I wish those guns didnt make such a + devil of a noise. We must adopt Maxim's Silencer for the army rifles if we + are going to shoot women. I really couldnt stand hearing it. + </p> + <p> + Some one outside tries to open the door and then knocks. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER and BALSQUITH. Whats that? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Whos there? + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. It's only me, governor. Its all right. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (unlocking the door and admitting the Orderly, who comes between + them). What was it? + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Suffraget, Sir. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Did the sentry shoot her? + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. No, Sir: she shot the sentry. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (relieved). Oh: is that all? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (most indignantly). All? A civilian shoots down one of His + Majesty's soldiers on duty; and the Prime Minister of England asks Is that + all? Have you no regard for the sanctity of human life? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (much relieved). Well, getting shot is what a soldier is for. + Besides, he doesnt vote. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Neither do the Suffragets. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Their husbands do. (To the Orderly.) By the way, did she kill + him? + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. No, Sir. He got a stinger on his trousers, Sir; but it didnt + penetrate. He lost his temper a bit and put down his gun and clouted her + head for her. So she said he was no gentleman; and we let her go, thinking + she'd had enough, Sir. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (groaning). Clouted her head! These women are making the army as + lawless as themselves. Clouted her head indeed! A purely civil procedure. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Any orders, Sir? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. No. Yes. No. Yes: send everybody who took part in this + disgraceful scene to the guardroom. No. Ill address the men on the subject + after lunch. Parade them for that purpose—full kit. Don't grin at + me, Sir. Right about face. March. (The Orderly obeys and goes out.) + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (taking Mitchener affectionately by the arm and walking him + persuasively to and fro). And now, Mitchener, will you come to the rescue + of the Government and take the command that Old Red has thrown up? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. How can I? You know that the people are devoted heart and soul + to Sandstone. He is only bringing you "on the knee," as we say in the + army. Could any other living man have persuaded the British nation to + accept universal compulsory military service as he did last year? Why, + even the Church refused exemption. He is supreme—omnipotent. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. He WAS, a year ago. But ever since your book of reminiscences + went into two more editions than his, and the rush for it led to the + wrecking of the Times Book Club, you have become to all intents and + purposes his senior. He lost ground by saying that the wrecking was got up + by the booksellers. It showed jealousy: and the public felt it. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. But I cracked him up in my book—you see I could do no + less after the handsome way he cracked me up in his—and I cant go + back on it now. (Breaking loose from Balsquith.) No: its no use, + Balsquith: he can dictate his terms to you. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Not a bit of it. That affair of the curate— + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (impatiently). Oh, damn that curate. Ive heard of nothing but + that wretched mutineer for a fortnight past. He is not a curate: whilst he + is serving in the army he is a private soldier and nothing else. I really + havent time to discuss him further. Im busy. Good morning. (He sits down + at his table and takes up his letters.) + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (near the door). I am sorry you take that tone, Mitchener. Since + you do take it, let me tell you frankly that I think Lieutenant + Chubbs-Jenkinson showed a great want of consideration for the Government + in giving an unreasonable and unpopular order, and bringing compulsory + military service into disrepute. When the leader of the Labor Party + appealed to me and to the House last year not to throw away all the + liberties of Englishmen by accepting universal Compulsory military service + without insisting on full civil rights for the soldier— + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Rot. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. —I said that no British officer would be capable of + abusing the authority with which it was absolutely necessary to invest + him. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Quite right. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. That carried the House and carried the country— + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Naturally. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. —And the feeling was that the Labor Party were soulless + cads. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. So they are. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. And now comes this unmannerly young whelp Chubbs-Jenkinson, the + only son of what they call a soda king, and orders a curate to lick his + boots. And when the curate punches his head, you first sentence him to be + shot; and then make a great show of clemency by commuting it to a + flogging. What did you expect the curate to do? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (throwing down his pen and his letters and jumping up to + confront Balsquith). His duty was perfectly simple. He should have obeyed + the order; and then laid his complaint against the officer in proper form. + He would have received the fullest satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. What satisfaction? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Chubbs-Jenkinson would have been reprimanded. In fact, he WAS + reprimanded. Besides, the man was thoroughly insubordinate. You cant deny + that the very first thing he did when they took him down after flogging + him was to walk up to Chubbs-Jenkinson and break his jaw. That showed + there was no use flogging him; so now he will get two years hard labor; + and serve him right. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. I bet you a guinea he wont get even a week. I bet you another + that Chubbs-Jenkinson apologizes abjectly. You evidently havent heard the + news. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. What news? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. It turns out that the curate is well connected. (Mitchener + staggers at the shock. Speechless he contemplates Balsquith with a wild + and ghastly stare; then reels into his chair and buries his face in his + hands over the blotter. Balsquith continues remorselessly, stooping over + him to rub it in.) He has three aunts in the peerage; and Lady Richmond's + one of them; (Mitchener utters a heartrending groan) and they all adore + him. The invitations for six garden parties and fourteen dances have been + cancelled for all the subalterns in Chubbs's regiment. Is it possible you + havent heard of it? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Not a word. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (shaking his head). I suppose nobody dared to tell you. (He sits + down carelessly on Mitchener's right.) + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. What an infernal young fool Chubbs-Jenkinson is, not to know + the standing of his man better! Why didnt he know? It was his business to + know. He ought to be flogged. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Probably he will be, by the other subalterns. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. I hope so. Anyhow, out he goes! Out of the army! He or I. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. His father has subscribed a million to the party funds. We owe + him a peerage. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. I dont care. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. I do. How do you think parties are kept up? Not by the + subscriptions of the local associations, I hope. They dont pay for the gas + at the meetings. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Man; can you not be serious? Here are we, face to face with + Lady Richmond's grave displeasure; and you talk to me about gas and + subscriptions. Her own nephew. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (gloomily). Its unfortunate. He was at Oxford with Bobby + Bassborough. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Worse and worse. What shall we do? + </p> + <p> + Balsquith shakes his head. They contemplate one another in miserable + silence. + </p> + <p> + A VOICE WITHOUT. Votes for Women! Votes for Women! + </p> + <p> + A terrific explosion shakes the building—they take no notice. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (breaking down). You dont know what this means to me, Balsquith. + I love the army. I love my country. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. It certainly is rather awkward. + </p> + <p> + The Orderly comes in. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (angrily). What is it? How dare you interrupt us like this? + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Didnt you hear the explosion, Sir? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Explosion. What explosion? No: I heard no explosion: I have + something more serious to attend to than explosions. Great Heavens: Lady + Richmond's nephew has been treated like any common laborer; and while + England is reeling under the shock a private comes in and asks me if I + heard an explosion. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. By the way, what was the explosion? + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Only a sort of bombshell, Sir. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Bombshell! + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. A pasteboard one, Sir. Full of papers with Votes for Women in + red letters. Fired into the yard from the roof of the Alliance Office. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Pooh! Go away. Go away. + </p> + <p> + The Orderly, bewildered, goes out. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Mitchener: you can save the country yet. Put on your full-dress + uniform and your medals and orders and so forth. Get a guard of honor—something + showy—horse guards or something of that sort; and call on the old + girl— + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. The old girl? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Well, Lady Richmond. Apologize to her. Ask her leave to accept + the command. Tell her that youve made the curate your adjutant or your + aide-de-camp or whatever is the proper thing. By the way, what can you + make him? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. I might make him my chaplain. I dont see why I shouldnt have a + chaplain on my staff. He showed a very proper spirit in punching that + young cub's head. I should have done the same myself. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Then Ive your promise to take command if Lady Richmond + consents? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. On condition that I have a free hand. No nonsense about public + opinion or democracy. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. As far as possible, I think I may say yes. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (rising intolerantly and going to the hearthrug). That wont do + for me. Dont be weak-kneed, Balsquith. You know perfectly well that the + real government of this country is and always must be the government of + the masses by the classes. You know that democracy is damned nonsense, and + that no class stands less of it than the working class. You know that we + are already discussing the steps that will have to be taken if the country + should ever be face to face with the possibility of a Labor majority in + parliament. You know that in that case we should disfranchise the mob, + and, if they made a fuss, shoot them down. You know that if we need public + opinion to support us, we can get any quantity of it manufactured in our + papers by poor devils of journalists who will sell their souls for five + shillings. You know— + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Stop. Stop, I say. I dont know. That is the difference between + your job and mine, Mitchener. After twenty years in the army a man thinks + he knows everything. After twenty months in the Cabinet he knows that he + knows nothing. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. We learn from history— + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. We learn from history that men never learn anything from + history. Thats not my own: its Hegel. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Whos Hegel? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Dead. A German philosopher. (He half rises, but recollects + something and sits down again.) Oh confound it: that reminds me. The + Germans have laid down four more Dreadnoughts. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Then you must lay down twelve. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Oh yes: its easy to say that: but think of what theyll cost. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Think of what it would cost to be invaded by Germany and forced + to pay an indemnity of five hundred millions. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. But you said that if you got compulsory military service there + would be an end of the danger of invasion. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. On the contrary, my dear fellow, it increases the danger + tenfold, because it increases German jealousy of our military supremacy. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. After all, why should the Germans invade us? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Why shouldnt they? What else has their army to do? What else + are they building a navy for? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Well, we never think of invading Germany. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Yes we do. I have thought of nothing else for the last ten + years. Say what you will, Balsquith, the Germans have never recognized, + and until they get a stern lesson, they never WILL recognize, the plain + fact that the interests of the British Empire are paramount, and that the + command of the sea belongs by nature to England. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. But if they wont recognize it, what can I do? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Shoot them down. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. I cant shoot them down. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Yes you can. You dont realize it; but if you fire a rifle into + a German he drops just as surely as a rabbit does. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH But dash it all, man, a rabbit hasnt got a rifle and a German + has. Suppose he shoots you down. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Excuse me, Balsquith; but that consideration is what we call + cowardice in the army. A soldier always assumes that he is going to shoot, + not to be shot. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (jumping up and walking about sulkily). Oh come! I like to hear + you military people talking of cowardice. Why, you spend your lives in an + ecstasy of terror of imaginary invasions. I dont believe you ever go to + bed without looking under it for a burglar. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (calmly). A very sensible precaution, Balsquith. I always take + it. And in consequence Ive never been burgled. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Neither have I. Anyhow dont you taunt me with cowardice. (He + posts himself on the hearthrug beside Mitchener on his left.) I never look + under my bed for a burglar. Im not always looking under the nation's bed + for an invader. And if it comes to fighting Im quite willing to fight + without being three to one. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. These are the romantic ravings of a Jingo civilian, Balsquith. + At least youll not deny that the absolute command of the sea is essential + to our security. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. The absolute command of the sea is essential to the security of + the principality of Monaco. But Monaco isnt going to get it. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. And consequently Monaco enjoys no security. What a frightful + thing! How do the inhabitants sleep with the possibility of invasion, of + bombardment, continually present to their minds? Would you have our + English slumbers broken in the same way? Are we also to live without + security? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (dogmatically). Yes. Theres no such thing as security in the + world: and there never can be as long as men are mortal. England will be + secure when England is dead, just as the streets of London will be safe + when there is no longer a man in her streets to be run over, or a vehicle + to run over him. When you military chaps ask for security you are crying + for the moon. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (very seriously). Let me tell you, Balsquith, that in these days + of aeroplanes and Zeppelin airships, the question of the moon is becoming + one of the greatest importance. It will be reached at no very distant + date. Can you as an Englishman, tamely contemplate the possibility of + having to live under a German moon? The British flag must be planted there + at all hazards. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. My dear Mitchener, the moon is outside practical politics. Id + swop it for a cooling station tomorrow with Germany or any other Power + sufficiently military in its way of thinking to attach any importance to + it. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (losing his temper). You are the friend of every country but + your own. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Say nobodys enemy but my own. It sounds nicer. You really + neednt be so horribly afraid of the other countries. Theyre all in the + same fix as we are. Im much more interested in the death rate in Lambeth + than in the German fleet. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. You darent say that in Lambeth. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Ill say it the day after you publish your scheme for invading + Germany and repealing all the reform Acts. + </p> + <p> + The Orderly comes in. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. What do you want? + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. I dont want anything, Governor, thank you. The secretary and + president of the Anti-Suffraget League say they had an appointment with + the Prime Minister, and that theyve been sent on here from Downing Street. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (going to the table). Quite right. I forgot them. (To + Mitchener.) Would you mind my seeing them here? I feel extraordinarily + grateful to these women for standing by us and facing the suffragets, + especially as they are naturally the gentler and timid sort of women. (The + Orderly moans.) Did you say anything? + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. No, Sir. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Did you catch their names. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Yes, Sir. The president is Lady Corinthia Fanshawe; and the + secretary is Mrs. Banger. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (abruptly). Mrs. what? + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Mrs. Banger. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Curious that quiet people always seem to have violent names. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Not much quiet about her, sir. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (outraged). Attention. Speak when youre spoken to. Hold your + tongue when youre not. Right about face. March. (The Orderly obeys.) Thats + the way to keep these chaps up to the mark. (The Orderly returns.) Back + again! What do you mean by this mutiny? + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. What am I to say to the ladies, sir? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. You dont mind my seeing them somewhere, do you? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Not at all. Bring them in to see me when youve done with them: + I understand that Lady Corinthia is a very fascinating woman. Who is she, + by the way? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Daughter of Lord Broadstairs, the automatic turbine man. Gave + quarter of a million to the party funds. Shes musical and romantic and all + that—dont hunt: hates politics: stops in town all the year round: + one never sees her anywhere except at the opera and at musical at-homes + and so forth. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. What a life! Still, if she wants to see me I dont mind. (To the + Orderly.) Where are the ladies? + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. In No. 17, Sir. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Show Mr. Balsquith there. And send Mrs. Farrell here. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY (calling into the corridor). Mrs. Farrell! (To Balsquith.) + This way sir. (He goes out with Balsquith.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Farrell, a lean, highly respectable Irish Charwoman of about 50 comes + in. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Mrs. Farrell: Ive a very important visit to pay: I shall want + my full dress uniform and all my medals and orders and my presentation + sword. There was a time when the British Army contained men capable of + discharging these duties for their commanding officer. Those days are + over. The compulsorily enlisted soldier runs to a woman for everything. Im + therefore reluctantly obliged to trouble you. + </p> + <p> + MRS FARRELL. Your meddles n ordhers n the crooked sword with the ivory + handle n your full dress uniform is in the waxworks in the Chamber o + Military Glory over in the place they used to call the Banquetin Hall. I + told you youd be sorry for sendin them away; n you told me to mind me own + business. Youre wiser now. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. I am. I had not at that time discovered that you were the only + person in the whole military establishment of this capital who could be + trusted to remember where anything was, or to understand an order and obey + it. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. Its no good flattherin me. Im too old. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Not at all, Mrs. Farrell. How is your daughter? + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. Which daughther. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. The one who has made such a gratifying success in the Music + Halls. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. Theres no music halls nowadays: theyre Variety Theatres. + Shes got an offer of marriage from a young jook. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Is it possible? What did you do? + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. I told his mother on him. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Oh! what did she say? + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. She was as pleased as Punch. Thank Heaven, she says, hes got + somebody thatll be able to keep him when the supertax is put up to twenty + shillings in the pound. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. But your daughter herself? What did she say? + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. Accepted him, of course. What else would a young fool like + her do? He inthrojooced her to the Poet Laureate, thinking shed inspire + him. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Did she? + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. Faith I dunna. All I know is she walked up to him as bold as + brass n said "Write me a sketch, dear." Afther all the trouble I took with + that chills manners shes no more notion how to behave herself than a pig. + Youll have to wear General Sandstones uniform: its the ony one in the + place, because he wont lend it to the shows. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. But Sandstones clothes wont fit me. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL (unmoved). Then youll have to fit THEM. Why shouldnt they + fitcha as well as they fitted General Blake at the Mansion House? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. They didnt fit him. He looked a frightful guy. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. Well, you must do the best you can with them. You cant + exhibit your clothes and wear them too. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. And the public thinks the lot of a commanding officer a happy + one! Oh, if they could only see the seamy side of it. (He returns to his + table to resume work.) + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. If they could only see the seamy side of General Sandstones + uniform, where his flask rubs agen the buckle of his braces, theyll tell + him he ought to get a new one. Let alone the way he swears at me. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. When a man has risked his life on eight battlefields, Mrs. + Farrell, he has given sufficient proof of his self-control to be excused a + little strong language. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. Would you put up with bad language from me because Ive + risked my life eight times in childbed? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. My dear Mrs. Farrell, you surely would not compare a risk of + that harmless domestic kind to the fearful risks of the battlefield? + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. I wouldnt compare risks run to bear living people into the + world to risks run to blow them out of it. A mother's risk is jooty: a + soldier's nothin but divilmint. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (nettled). Let me tell you, Mrs. Farrell, that if the men did + not fight, the women would have to fight themselves. We spare you that, at + all events. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. You cant help yourselves. If three-quarters of you was + killed we could replace you with the help of the other quarter. If + three-quarters of us was killed, how many people would there be in England + in another generation? If it wasnt for that, the man d put the fightin on + us just as they put all the other dhrudgery. What would YOU do if we was + all kilt? Would you go to bed and have twins? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Really, Mrs. Farrell, you must discuss these questions with a + medical man. You make me blush, positively. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. A good job too. If I could have made Farrell blush I wouldnt + have had to risk me life too often. You n your risks n your bravery n your + selfcontrol indeed! "Why don't you conthrol yourself?" I sez to Farrell. + "Its agen me religion," he sez. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (plaintively). Mrs. Farrell, youre a woman of very powerful + mind. Im not qualified to argue these delicate matters with you. I ask you + to spare me, and to be good enough to take these clothes to Mr. Balsquith + when the ladies leave. + </p> + <p> + The Orderly comes in. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Lady Corinthia Fanshawe and Mrs. Banger wish to see you, sir. + Mr. Balsquith told me to tell you. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. Theyve come about the vote. I dont know whether its them + that want it or them that doesnt want it: anyhow, they're all alike when + they get into a state about it. (She goes out, having gathered Balsquith's + suffraget disguise from the desk.) + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Is Mr. Balsquith not with them? + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. No, Sir. Couldnt stand Mrs. Banger, I expect. Fair caution + she is. (He chuckles.) Couldnt help larfin when I sor im op it. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. How dare you indulge in this unseemly mirth in the presence of + your commanding officer? Have you no sense of a soldier's duty? + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY (sadly). Im afraid I shant ever get the ang of it, sir. You + see my father has a tidy little barbers business down off Shoreditch; and + I was brought up to be chatty and easy like with everybody. I tell you, + when I drew the number in the conscription it gave my old mother the + needle and it gev me the ump. I should take it very kind, sir, if youd let + me off the drill and let me shave you instead. Youd appreciate my + qualities then: you would indeed sir. I shant never do myself justice at + soljering, sir: I cant bring myself to think of it as proper work for a + man with an active mind, as you might say, sir. Arf of its only + ousemaidin; and the other arf is dress-up and make-believe. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Stuff, Sir. Its the easiest life in the world. Once you learn + your drill all you have to do is to hold your tongue and obey your orders. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. But I do assure you, sir, arf the time they're the wrong + orders; and I get into trouble when I obey them. The sergeants orders is + all right; but the officers dont know what theyre talkin about. Why the + orses knows better sometimes. "Fours" says Lieutenant Trevor at the gate + of Bucknam Palace only this morning when we was on duty for a State visit + to the Coal Trust. I was fourth man like in the first file; and when I + started the orse eld back; and the sergeant was on to me straight. Threes, + you bally fool, he whispers. And he was on to me again about it when we + came back, and called me a fathead, he did. What am I to do, I says: the + lieutenant's orders was fours, I says. Ill show you whos lieutenant here, + e says. In future you attend to my orders and not to iz, e says: what does + he know about it? You didnt give me any orders, I says. Couldnt you see + for yourself there wasnt room for fours, e says: why cant you THINK? + General Mitchener tells me Im not to think but to obey orders, I says. Is + Mitchener your sergeant or am I, e says in his bullyin way. You are, I + says. Well, he says, youve got to do what your sergeant tells you: thats + discipline, he says. What am I to do for the General I says. Youre to let + im talk, e says: thats what es for. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (groaning). It is impossible for the human mind to conceive + anything more dreadful than this. Youre a disgrace to the service. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY (deeply wounded). The service is a disgrace to me. When my + mother's people pass me in the street with this uniform on, I ardly know + which way to look. There never was a soldier in my family before. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. There never was anything else in mine, sir. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. My mother's second cousin was one of the Parkinsons of + Stepney. (Almost in tears.) What do you know of the feelings of a + respectable family in the middle station of life? I cant bear to be looked + down on as a common soldier. Why cant my father be let buy my discharge? + Youve done away with the soldier's right to have his discharge bought for + him by his relations. The country didnt know you were going to do that or + it would never have stood it. Is an Englishman to be made a mockery like + this? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Silence. Attention. Right about face. March. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY (retiring to the standing desk and bedewing it with passionate + tears). Oh that I should have lived to be spoke to as if I was the lowest + of the low. Me! that has shaved a City of London aldermen wiv me own hand. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Poltroon. Crybaby. Well, better disgrace yourself here than + disgrace your country on the field of battle. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY (angrily coming to the table). Whos going to disgrace his + country on the field of battle? Its not fightin I object to: its soljerin. + Show me a German and Ill have a go at him as fast as you or any man. But + to ave me time wasted like this, an be stuck in a sentry box at a street + corner for an ornament to be stared at; and to be told "right about face: + march" if I speak as one man to another: that aint pluck: that aint + fightin: that aint patriotism: its bein made a bloomin sheep of. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. A sheep has many valuable military qualities. Emulate them: + dont disparage them. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Oh, wots the good of talkin to you? If I wasnt a poor soldier + I could punch your head for forty shillins for a month. But because youre + my commanding officer you deprive me of my right to a magistrate and make + a compliment of giving me two years ard sted of shootin me. Why cant you + take your chance the same as any civilian does? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (rising majestically). I search the pages of history in vain for + a parallel to such a speech made by a Private to a general. But for the + coherence of your remarks I should conclude that you were drunk. As it is, + you must be mad. You shall be placed under restraint at once. Call the + guard. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Call your grandmother. If you take one man off the doors the + place'll be full of Suffragets before you can wink. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Then arrest yourself; and off with you to the guardroom. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. What am I to arrest myself for? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Thats nothing to you. You have your orders: obey them. Do you + hear? Right about face. March. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. How would you feel yourself if you was told to + right-about-face and march as if you was a doormat? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. I should feel as if my country had spoken through the voice of + my officer. I should feel proud and honored to be able to serve my country + by obeying its commands. No thought of self—no vulgar preoccupation + with my own petty vanity could touch my mind at such a moment. To me my + officer would not be a mere man: he would be for the moment—whatever + his personal frailties—the incarnation of our national destiny. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. What Im saying to you is the voice of old England a jolly + sight more than all this rot that you get out of books. Id rather be spoke + to by a sergeant than by you. He tells me to go to hell when I challenges + him to argue it out like a man. It aint polite; but its English. What you + say aint anything at all. You dont act on it yourself. You dont believe in + it. Youd punch my head if I tried it on you; and serve me right. And look + here. Heres another point for you to argue. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (with a shriek of protest). No— + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Banger comes in, followed by Lady Corinthia Fanshawe. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Banger is a masculine woman of forty, with a powerful voice and great + physical strength. Lady Corinthia, who is also over thirty, is beautiful + and romantic. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER (throwing the door open decisively and marching straight to + Michener). Pray how much longer is the Anti-Suffrage League to be kept + waiting? (She passes him contemptuously and sits down with impressive + confidence in the chair next the fireplace. Lady Corinthia takes the chair + on the opposite side of the table with equal aplomb.) + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Im extremely sorry. You really do not know what I have to put + with. This imbecile, incompetent, unsoldierly disgrace to the uniform he + should never have been allowed to put on, ought to have shown you in + fifteen minutes ago. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. All I said was— + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Not another word. Attention. Right about face. March. (The + Orderly sits down doggedly.) Get out of the room this instant, you fool, + or Ill kick you out. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY (civilly). I dont mind that, sir. Its human. Its English. Why + couldnt you have said it before? (He goes out). + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Take no notice I beg: these scenes are of daily occurrence now + that we have compulsory service under the command of the halfpenny papers. + Pray sit down. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA AND MRS. BANGER (rising). Thank you. (They sit down again.) + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (sitting down with a slight chuckle of satisfaction). And now, + ladies, to what am I indebted? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. Let me introduce us. I am Rosa Carmina Banger—Mrs. + Banger, organizing secretary of the Anti-Suffraget League. This is Lady + Corinthia Fanshawe, the president of the League, known in musical circles—I + am not myself musical—as the Richmond Park nightingale. A soprano. I + am myself said to be almost a baritone; but I do not profess to understand + these dis-tinctions. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (murmuring politely). Most happy, Im sure. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. We have come to tell you plainly that the Anti-Suffragets are + going to fight. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (gallantly). Oh, pray leave that to the men, Mrs. Banger. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. We can no longer trust the men. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. They have shown neither the strength, the courage, nor the + determination which are needed to combat women like the Suffragets. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Nature is too strong for the combatants. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. Physical struggles between persons of opposite sexes are + unseemly. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Demoralizing. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. Insincere. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. They are merely embraces in disguise. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. No such suspicion can attach to combats in which the + antagonists are of the same sex. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. The Anti-Suffragets have resolved to take the field. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. They will enforce the order of General Sandstone for the + removal of all women from the two mile radius—that is, all women + except themselves. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. I am sorry to have to inform you, Madam, that the Government + has given up that project, and that General Sandstone has resigned in + consequence. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. That does not concern us in the least. We approve of the + project and will see that it is carried out. We have spent a good deal of + money arming ourselves; and we are not going to have that money thrown + away through the pusillanimity of a Cabinet of males. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Arming yourselves! But, my dear ladies, under the latest + proclamation women are strictly forbidden to carry chains, padlocks, + tracts on the franchise, or weapons of any description. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA (producing an ivory-handled revolver and pointing it at his + nose). You little know your countrywomen, General Mitchener. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (without flinching). Madam: it is my duty to take possession of + that weapon in accordance with the proclamation. Be good enough to put it + down. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER (producing an XVIII century horse pistol). Is it your duty to + take possession of this also? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. That, madam, is not a weapon; it is a curiosity. If you would + be kind enough to place it in some museum instead of pointing it at my + head, I should be obliged to you. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. This pistol, sir, was carried at Waterloo by my grandmother. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. I presume you mean your grandfather. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. You presume unwarrantably. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Mrs. Banger's grandmother commanded a canteen at that + celebrated battle. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. Who my grandfather was is a point that has never been quite + clearly settled. I put my trust not in my ancestors, but in my good sword, + which is at my lodgings. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Your sword! + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. The sword with which I slew five Egyptians with my own hand + at Kassassin, where I served as a trooper. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Lord bless me! But was your sex never discovered? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. It was never even suspected. I had a comrade—a + gentleman ranker—whom they called Fanny. They never called ME Fanny. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. The suffragets have turned the whole woman movement on to + the wrong track. They ask for a vote. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. What use is a vote? Men have the vote. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. And men are slaves. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. What women need is the right to military service. Give me a + well-mounted regiment of women with sabres, opposed to a regiment of men + with votes. We shall see which will go down before the other. (rises) No: + we have had enough of these gentle pretty creatures who merely talk and + cross-examine ministers in police courts, and go to prison like sheep, and + suffer and sacrifice themselves. This question must be solved by blood and + iron, as was well said by Bismarck, whom I have reason to believe was a + woman in disguise. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Bismarck a woman? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. All the really strong men of history have been disguised + women. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (remonstrating). My dear lady! + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. How can you tell? You never knew that the hero of the charge + at Kassassin was a woman: yet she was: it was I, Rosa Carmina Banger. + Would Napoleon have been so brutal to women, think you, had he been a man? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Oh, come, come! Really! Surely female rulers have often shown + all the feminine weaknesses. Queen Elizabeth, for instance. Her vanity, + her levity. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. Nobody who has studied the history of Queen Elizabeth can + doubt for a moment that she was a disguised man. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA (admiring Mrs. Banger). Isnt she splendid? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER (rising with a large gesture). This very afternoon I shall + cast off this hampering skirt for ever; mount my charger; and with my good + sabre lead the Anti-Suffragets to victory. (She strides to the other side + of the room, snorting.) + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. But I cant allow anything of the sort, madam. I shall stand no + such ridiculous nonsense. Im perfectly determined to put my foot down. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Dont be hysterical, General. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Hysterical! + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. Do you think we are to be stopped by these childish + exhibitions of temper. They are useless; and your tears and entreaties—a + man's last resource—will avail you just as little. I sweep them + away, just as I sweep your plans of campaign "made in Germany—" + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (flying into a transport of rage). How dare you repeat that + infamous slander? (He rings the bell violently.) If this is the + alternative to votes for women, I shall advocate giving every woman in the + country six votes. + </p> + <p> + The Orderly comes in. + </p> + <p> + Remove that woman. See that she leaves the building at once. + </p> + <p> + The Orderly forlornly contemplates the iron front presented by Mrs. + Banger. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY (propitiatorily). Would you av the feelin art to step out, + madam. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER. You are a soldier. Obey your orders. Put me out. If I got + such an order, I should not hesitate. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY (To Mitchener). Would you mind lendin me a and, Guvner? + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA (raising her revolver). I shall be obliged to shoot you if + you stir, General. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BANGER (To the Orderly). When you are ordered to put a person out you + should do it like this. (She hurls him from the room. He is heard falling + headlong downstairs and crashing through a glass door.) I shall now wait + on General Sandstone. If he shows any sign of weakness, he shall share + that poor wretch's fate. (She goes out.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Isnt she magnificent? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Thank heaven shes gone. And now, my dear lady, is it necessary + to keep that loaded pistol to my nose all through our conversation? + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Its not loaded. Its heavy enough, goodness knows, without + putting bullets in it. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (triumphantly snatching his revolver from the drawer). Then I am + master of the situation. This IS loaded. Ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. But since we are not really going to shoot one another, + what difference can it possibly make? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (putting his pistol down on the table). True. Quite true. I + recognize there the practical good sense that has prevented you from + falling into the snares of the Suffragets. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. The Suffragets, General, are the dupes of dowdies. A + really attractive and clever woman— + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (gallantly). Yourself, for instance. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA (snatching up his revolver). Another step and you are a + dead man. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (amazed). My dear lady! + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. I am not your dear lady. You are not the first man who has + concluded that because I am devoted to music and can reach F flat with the + greatest facility—Patti never got above E flat—I am marked out + as the prey of every libertine. You think I am like the thousands of weak + women whom you have ruined— + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. I solemnly protest— + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Oh, I know what you officers are. To you a woman's honor + is nothing, and the idle pleasure of the moment is everything. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. This is perfectly ridiculous. I never ruined anyone in my life. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Never! Are you in earnest? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Certainly I am in earnest. Most indignantly in earnest. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA (throwing down the pistol contemptuously). Then you have no + temperament; you are not an artist. You have no soul for music. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Ive subscribed to the regimental band all my life. I bought two + sarrusophones for it out of my own pocket. When I sang Tosti's Goodbye for + Ever at Knightsbridge in 1880, the whole regiment wept. You are too young + to remember that. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Your advances are useless. I— + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Confound it, madam, can you not receive an innocent compliment + without suspecting me of dishonorable intentions? + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Love—real love—makes all intentions honorable. + But YOU could never understand that. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Ill not submit to the vulgar penny-novelette notion that an + officer is less honorable than a civilian in his relations with women. + While I live Ill raise my voice— + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Tush! + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. What do you mean by tush? + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. You cant raise your voice above its natural compass. What + sort of voice have you? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. A tenor. What sort had you? + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Had? I have it still. I tell you I am the highest living + soprano. (Scornfully.) What was your highest note, pray? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. B flat—once—in 1879. I was drunk at the time. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA (gazing at him almost tenderly). Though you may not believe + me, I find you are more interesting when you talk about music than when + you are endeavoring to betray a woman who has trusted you by remaining + alone with you in your apartment. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (springing up and fuming away to the fireplace). These repeated + insults to a man of blameless life are as disgraceful to you as they are + undeserved by me, Lady Corinthia. Such suspicions invite the conduct they + impute. (She raises the pistol.) You need not be alarmed: I am only going + to leave the room. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Fish. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Fish! This is worse than tush. Why fish? + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Yes, fish: coldblooded fish. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Dash it all, madam, do you WANT me to make advances to you? + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. I have not the slightest intention of yielding to them; + but to make them would be a tribute to romance. What is life without + romance? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (making a movement toward her). I tell you— + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Stop. No nearer. No vulgar sensuousness. If you must + adore, adore at a distance. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. This is worse than Mrs. Banger. I shall ask that estimable + woman to come back. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Poor Mrs. Banger! Do not for a moment suppose, General + Mitchener, that Mrs. Banger represents my views on the suffrage question. + Mrs. Banger is a man in petticoats. I am every inch a woman; but I find it + convenient to work with her. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Do you find the combination comfortable? + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. I do not wear combinations, General: (with dignity) they + are unwomanly. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (throwing himself despairingly into the chair next the + hearthrug). I shall go mad. I never for a moment dreamt of alluding to + anything of the sort. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. There is no need to blush and become self-conscious at the + mention of underclothing. You are extremely vulgar, General. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Lady Corinthia: you have my pistol. Will you have the goodness + to blow my brains out. I should prefer it to any further effort to follow + the gyrations of the weathercock you no doubt call your mind. If you + refuse, then I warn you that youll not get another word out of me—not + if we sit here until doomsday. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. I dont want you to talk. I want you to listen. You do not + yet understand my views on the question of the Suffrage. (She rises to + make a speech.) I must preface my remarks by reminding you that the + Suffraget movement is essentially a dowdy movement. The suffragets are not + all dowdies; but they are mainly supported by dowdies. Now I am not a + dowdy. Oh, no compliments— + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. I did not utter a sound. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA (smiling). It is easy to read your thoughts. I am one of + those women who are accustomed to rule the world through men. Man is ruled + by beauty, by charm. The men who are not have no influence. The Salic Law, + which forbade women to occupy a throne, is founded on the fact that when a + woman is on the throne the country is ruled by men, and therefore ruled + badly; whereas when a man is on the throne, the country is ruled by women, + and therefore ruled well. The suffragets would degrade women from being + rulers to being voters, mere politicians, the drudges of the caucus and + the polling booth. We should lose our influence completely under such a + state of affairs. The New Zealand women have the vote. What is the result? + No poet ever makes a New Zealand woman his heroine. One might as well be + romantic about New Zealand mutton. Look at the suffragets themselves. The + only ones who are popular are the pretty ones, who flirt with mobs as + ordinary women flirt with officers. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Then I understand you to hold that the country should be + governed by the women after all. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Not by all the women. By certain women. I had almost said + by one woman. By the women who have charm—who have artistic talent—who + wield a legitimate, a refining influence over the men. (She sits down + gracefully, smiling, and arranging her draperies with conscious elegance.) + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. In short, madam, you think that if you give the vote to the + man, you give the power to the women who can get round the man. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. That is not a very delicate way of putting it; but I + suppose that is how you would express what I mean. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Perhaps youve never had any experience of garrison life. If you + had, you'd have noticed that the sort of woman who is clever at getting + round men is sometimes rather a bad lot. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. What do you mean by a bad lot? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. I mean a woman who would play the very devil if the other women + didnt keep her in pretty strict order. I dont approve of democracy, + because its rot; and Im against giving the vote to women because Im not + accustomed to it and therefore am able to see with an unprejudiced eye + what infernal nonsense it is. But I tell you plainly, Lady Corinthia, that + there is one game that I dislike more than either Democracy or Votes For + Women: and that is the game of Antony and Cleopatra. If I must be ruled by + women, let me have decent women and not—well, not the other sort. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. You have a coarse mind, General Mitchener. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. So has Mrs. Banger. And by George! I prefer Mrs. Banger to you! + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA (bounding to her feet.) You prefer Mrs. Banger to me!!! + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. I do. You said yourself she was splendid. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. You are no true man. You are one of those unsexed + creatures who have no joy in life, no sense of beauty, no high notes. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. No doubt I am, Madam. As a matter of fact, I am not clever at + discussing public questions, because, as an English gentleman, I was not + brought up to use my brains. But occasionally, after a number of remarks + which are perhaps sometimes rather idiotic, I get certain convictions. + Thanks to you, I have now got a conviction that this woman question is not + a question of lovely and accomplished females, but of dowdies. The average + Englishwoman is a dowdy and never has half a chance of becoming anything + else. She hasnt any charm; and she has no high notes except when shes + giving her husband a piece of her mind, or calling down the street for one + of the children. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. How disgusting! + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Somebody must do the dowdy work! If we had to choose between + pitching all the dowdies into the Thames and pitching all the lovely and + accomplished women, the lovely ones would have to go. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. And if you had to do without Wagner's music or do without + your breakfast, you would do without Wagner. Pray does that make eggs and + bacon more precious than music, or the butcher and baker better than the + poet and philosopher? The scullery may be more necessary to our bare + existence than the cathedral. Even humbler apartments might make the same + claim. But which is the more essential to the higher life? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Your arguments are so devilishly ingenious that I feel + convinced you got them out of some confounded book. Mine—such as + they are—are my own. I imagine its something like this. There is an + old saying that if you take care of the pence, the pounds will take care + of themselves. Well, perhaps if we take care of the dowdies and the + butchers and the bakers, the beauties and the bigwigs will take care of + themselves. (Rising and facing her determinedly.) Anyhow, I dont want to + have things arranged for me by Wagner. Im not Wagner. How does he know + where the shoe pinches me? How do you know where the shoe pinches your + washerwoman?—you and your high F in alt. How are you to know when + you havent made her comfortable unless she has a vote? Do you want her to + come and break your windows? + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Am I to understand that General Mitchener is a democrat + and a suffraget? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Yes: you have converted me—you and Mrs. Banger. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Farewell, creature. (Balsquith enters hurriedly.) Mr. + Balsquith: I am going to wait on General Sandstone. He at least is an + officer and a gentleman. (She sails out.) + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Mitchener: the game is up. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. The strain is too much for the Cabinet. The old Liberal and + Unionist Free Traders declare that if they are defeated on their + resolution to invite tenders from private contractors for carrying on the + Army and Navy, they will go solid for votes for women as the only means of + restoring the liberties of the country which we have destroyed by + compulsory military service. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Infernal impudence? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. The Labor party is taking the same line. They say the men got + the Factory Acts by hiding behind the women's petticoats, and that they + will get votes for the army in the same way. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Balsquith: we must not yield to clamor. I have just told this + lady that I am at last convinced— + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (joyfully). That the suffragets must be supported. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. No: that the anti-suffragets must be put down at all hazards. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Same thing. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. No. For you now tell me that the Labor Party demands votes for + women. That makes it impossible to give them, because it would be yielding + to clamor. The one condition on which we can consent to grant anything in + this country is that nobody shall presume to want it. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (earnestly). Mitchener: its no use. You cant have the + conveniences of Democracy without its occasional inconveniences. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. What are its conveniences, I should like to know? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. When you tell people that they are the real rulers and they can + do what they like, nine times out of ten, they say, "All right, tell us + what to do." But it happens sometimes that they get an idea of their own; + and then of course youre landed. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Sh— + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (desperately shouting him down). No: its no use telling me to + shoot them down: Im not going to do it. After all, I dont suppose votes + for women will make much difference. It hasnt in the other countries in + which it has been tried. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. I never supposed it would make much difference. What I cant + stand is giving in to that Pankhurst lot. Hang it all, Balsquith, it seems + only yesterday that we put them in quod for a month. I said at the time + that it ought to have been ten years. If my advice had been taken this + wouldnt have happened. Its a consolation to me that events are proving how + thoroughly right I was. + </p> + <p> + The Orderly rushes in. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Look ere, sir: Mrs. Banger locked the door of General + Sandstone's room on the inside; and shes sitting on his ead until he signs + a proclamation for women to serve in the army. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Put your shoulder to the door and burst it open. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Its only in story books that doors burst open as easy as + that. Besides, Im only too thankful to have a locked door between me and + Mrs. B.; and so is all the rest of us. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Cowards. Balsquith: to the rescue! (He dashes out.) + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (ambling calmly to the hearth). This is the business of the + Sergeant at Arms rather than of the leader of the House. Theres no use in + my tackling Mrs. Banger: she would only sit on my head too. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. You take my tip, Mr. Balsquith. Give the women the vote and + give the army civil rights; and av done with it. + </p> + <p> + Mitchener returns. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Balsquith: prepare to hear the worst. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Sandstone is no more? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. On the contrary, he is particularly lively. He has softened + Mrs. Banger by a proposal of marriage in which he appears to be perfectly + in earnest. He says he has met his ideal at last, a really soldierly + woman. She will sit on his head for the rest of his life; and the British + Army is now to all intents and purposes commanded by Mrs. Banger. When I + remonstrated with Sandstone she positively shouted "Right-about-face. + March" at me in the most offensive tone. If she hadnt been a woman I + should have punched her head. I precious nearly punched Sandstone's. The + horrors of martial law administered by Mrs. Banger are too terrible to be + faced. I demand civil rights for the army. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY (chuckling). Wot oh, General! Wot oh! + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Hold your tongue. (He goes to the door and calls.) Mrs. + Farrell! (Returning, and again addressing the Orderly.) Civil rights don't + mean the right to be uncivil. (Pleased with his own wit.) Almost a pun. Ha + ha! + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. Whats the matther now? (She comes to the table.) + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (to the Orderly). I have private business with Mrs. Farrell. + Outside, you infernal blackguard. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY (arguing, as usual). Well, I didnt ask to—(Mitchener + seizes him by the nape; rushes him out; and slams the door). + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Excuse the abruptness of this communication, Mrs. Farrell; but + I know only one woman in the country whose practical ability and force of + character can maintain her husband in competition with the husband of Mrs. + Banger. I have the honor to propose for your hand. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. Dye mean you want to marry me? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. I do. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. No thank you. Id have to work for you just the same; only I + shouldnt get any wages for it. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. That will be remedied when women get the vote. Ive had to + promise that. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (winningly). Mrs. Farrell: you have been charwoman here now ever + since I took up my duties. Have you really never, in your more romantic + moments, cast a favorable eye on my person? + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. Ive been too busy casting an unfavorable eye on your cloze + and on the litther you make with your papers. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (wounded). Am I to understand that you refuse me? + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. Just wait a bit. (She takes Mitchener's chair and rings up + the telephone.) Double three oh seven Elephant. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. I trust youre not ringing for the police, Mrs. Farrell. I + assure you Im perfectly sane. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL (into the telephone). Is that you, Eliza? (She listens for + the answer.) Not out of bed yet! Go and pull her out by the heels, the + lazy sthreel; and tell her her mother wants to speak to her very + particularly about General Mitchener. (To Mitchener.) Dont you be afeard: + I know youre sane enough when youre not talkin about the Germans. (Into + the telephone.) Is that you, Eliza? (She listens for the answer.) Dye + remember me givin you a clout on the side of the head for tellin me that + if I only knew how to play me cards I could marry any general on the staff + instead o disgracin you be bein a charwoman? (She listens for the answer.) + Well, I can have General Mitchener without playing any cards at all. What + dye think I ought to say? (She listens.) Well, Im no chicken myself. (To + Mitchener.) How old are you? + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER (with an effort). Fifty-two. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL (into the telephone). He says hes fifty-two. (She listens; + then, to Mitchener.) She says youre down in Who's Who as sixty-one. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Damn Who's Who. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL (into the telephone). Anyhow I wouldnt let that stand in the + way. (She listens.) If I really WHAT? (She listens.)I cant hear you. If I + really WHAT? (She listens.) WHO druv him? I never said a word to— + Eh? (She listens.) Oh, LOVE him. Arra dont be a fool, child. (To + Mitchener.) She wants to know do I really love you.(Into the telephone.) + Its likely indeed Id frighten the man off with any such nonsense, at my + age. What? (She listens.) Well, thats just what I was thinkin. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. May I ask what you were thinking, Mrs. Farrell? This suspense + is awful. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. I was thinkin that perhaps the Duchess might like her + daughter-in-law's mother to be a General's lady betther than to be a + charwoman. (Into the telephone.) Waitle youre married yourself, me fine + lady: you'll find out that every woman is a charwoman from the day shes + married. (She listens.) Then you think I might take him? (She listens.) + Glang, you young scald: if I had you here Id teach you manners. (She + listens.) Thats enough now. Back wid you to bed; and be thankful Im not + there to put me slipper across you. (She rings off.) The impudence! (To + Mitchener.) Bless you, me childher, may you be happy, she says. (To + Balsquith, going to his side of the room.) Give dear, old Mich me love, + she says. + </p> + <p> + The Orderly opens the door, ushering in Lady Corinthia. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Lady Corinthia Fanshawe to speak to you, sir. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. General Mitchener: your designs on Mrs. Banger are + defeated. She is engaged to General Sandstone. Do you still prefer her to + me? + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. Hes out o the hunt. Hes engaged to me. + </p> + <p> + The Orderly overcome by this news reels from the door to the standing + desk, and clutches the stool to save himself from collapsing. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. And extremely proud of it, Lady Corinthia. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA (contemptuously). She suits you exactly. (Coming to + Balsquith.) Mr. Balsquith: you at least, are not a Philistine. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. No, Lady Corinthia; but Im a confirmed bachelor. I don't want a + wife; but I want an Egeria. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. More shame for you. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. Silence, woman. The position and functions of a wife may + suit your gross nature. An Egeria is exactly what I desire to be. (To + Balsquith.) Can you play accompaniments? + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. Melodies only, I regret to say. With one finger. But my + brother, who is a very obliging fellow, and not unlike me personally, is + acquainted with three chords, with which he manages to accompany most of + the comic songs of the day. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA. I do not sing comic songs. Neither will you when I am your + Egeria. Come. I give a musical at-home this afternoon. I will allow you to + sit at my feet. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH. That is my ideal of romantic happiness. It commits me exactly + as far as I desire to venture. Thank you. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Wot price me, General? Wont you celebrate your engagement by + doing something for me? Maynt I be promoted to be a sergeant. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Youre too utterly incompetent to discharge the duties of a + sergeant. You are only fit to be a lieutenant. I shall recommend you for a + commission. + </p> + <p> + THE ORDERLY. Hooray! The Parkinsons of Stepney will be proud to have me + call on them now. Ill go and tell the sergeant what I think of him. + Hooray! (He rushes out.) + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL (going to the door and calling after him.) You might have the + manners to shut the door idther you. (She shuts it and comes between + Mitchener and Lady Corinthia.) + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. Poor wretch; the day after civil rights are conceded to the + army he and Chubbs-Jenkinson will be found incapable of maintaining + discipline. They will be sacked and replaced by really capable men. Mrs. + Farrell: as we are engaged, and I am anxious to do the correct thing in + every way, I am quite willing to kiss you if you wish it. + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. Youd only feel like a fool; and so would I. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. You are really the most sensible woman. Ive made an extremely + wise choice. + </p> + <p> + LADY CORINTHIA (To Balsquith). You may kiss my hand, if you wish. + </p> + <p> + BALSQUITH (cautiously). I think we had better not commit ourselves too + far. If I might carry your parasol, that would quite satisfy me. Let us + change a subject which threatens to become embarrassing. (To Mitchener.) + The moral of the occasion for you, Mitchener, appears to be that youve got + to give up treating soldiers as if they were schoolboys. + </p> + <p> + MITCHENER. The moral for you, Balsquith, is that youve got to give up + treating women as if they were angels. Ha ha! + </p> + <p> + MRS. FARRELL. Its a mercy youve found one another out at last. That's + enough now. + </p> + <p> + CURTAIN <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Press Cuttings, by George Bernard Shaw + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRESS CUTTINGS *** + +***** This file should be named 5723-h.htm or 5723-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5723/ + +Produced by Eve Sobol, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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