Press Cuttings
By direction of the Lord Chamberlain the General and the Prime Minister in this play must in all public performances of it be addressed and described as General Bones and Mr. Johnson, and by no means as General Mitchener and Mr. Balsquith. The allusions to commoner persons are allowed to stand as they are.
General Mitchener, by the way, is not the late Lord Kitchener, but an earlier and more highly connected commander. Balsquith (Balfour-Asquith) is obviously neither of these statesmen, and cannot in the course of nature be both.
Dramatis Personae
General Mitchener
Balsquith, the Prime Minister
An Orderly
Mrs. Farrell, an Irish charwoman
Lady Corinthia Fanshawe
Mrs. Rosa Carmina Banger
Offstage voices
Press Cuttings
The forenoon of the first of April, 1911.
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, halfway 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.
A Voice Outside
Votes for Women!
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.
Mitchener
Oh, it’s only you. Well?
The Orderly
Another one, sir. She’s chained herself.
Mitchener
Chained herself? How? To what? We’ve taken away the railings and everything that a chain can be passed through.
The Orderly
We forgot the doorscraper, sir. She lay down on the flags and got the chain through before she started hollerin’. She’s lyin’ there now; and she downfaces us that you’ve got the key of the padlock in a letter in a buff envelope, and that you’ll see her when you open it.
Mitchener
She’s mad. Have the scraper dug up and let her go home with it hanging round her neck.
The Orderly
There is a buff envelope there, sir.
Mitchener
You’re all afraid of these women. He picks the letter up. It does seem to have a key in it. He opens the letter; takes out a key and a note; and reads: “Dear Mitch”—Well, I’m dashed!
The Orderly
Yes, sir.
Mitchener
What do you mean by “Yes, sir”?
The Orderly
Well, you said you was dashed, sir; and you did look—if you’ll excuse my saying it, sir—well, you looked it.
Mitchener
Who has been reading the letter, and is too astonished to attend to the Orderly’s 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.
The Orderly
Tremulously. Don’t do it, governor.
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. Here’s the key. Unlock her and show her up.
The Orderly
Me unlock her! I dursen’t. Lord knows what she’d do to me.
Mitchener
Pepperily, rising. Obey your orders instantly, sir; and don’t 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.
The Voice Outside
Votes for Women! Votes for Women! Votes for Women!
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.
The Orderly
Outside. In you go. He pushes a panting Suffragette into the room. The person, sir. He withdraws.
The Suffragette takes off her tailor-made skirt and reveals a pair of fashionable trousers.
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—
The Suffragette
My dear Mitchener: I am the Prime Minister. He takes off his hat and cloak; throws them on the desk; and confronts the General in the ordinary costume of a Cabinet Minister.
Mitchener
Good heavens! Balsquith!
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.
Mitchener
Why didn’t you telephone?
Balsquith
They tap the telephone. Every switchboard in London is in their hands, or in those of their young men.
Mitchener
Where on earth did you get the dress? I hope it’s not a French dress!
Balsquith
Great heavens, no. We’re not allowed even to put on our gloves with French chalk. Everything’s labelled “Made in Camberwell.”
Mitchener
As a Tariff Reformer, I must say “Quite right.” Balsquith has a strong controversial impulse and is evidently going to dispute this profession of faith. No matter. Don’t argue. What have you come for?
Balsquith
Sandstone has resigned.
Mitchener
Amazed. Old Red resigned!
Balsquith
Resigned.
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.
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.
Mitchener
But you accepted it unconditionally.
Balsquith
Yes, before we knew what it was. It was unworkable, you know.
Mitchener
I don’t know. Why is it unworkable?
Balsquith
I mean the part about drawing a cordon round Westminster at a distance of two miles, and turning all women out of it.
Mitchener
A masterpiece of strategy. Let me explain. The suffragettes 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.
Balsquith
But the women won’t go.
Mitchener
Nonsense: they must go.
Balsquith
They won’t.
Mitchener
What does Sandstone say?
Balsquith
He says: Shoot them down.
Mitchener
Of course.
Balsquith
You’re not serious?
Mitchener
I’m perfectly serious.
Balsquith
But you can’t shoot them down! Women, you know!
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.
Balsquith
But suppose your own daughters—Helen and Georgina—
Mitchener
My daughters would not dream of disobeying the proclamation. As an afterthought. At least Helen wouldn’t.
Balsquith
But Georgina?
Mitchener
Georgina would if she knew she’d be shot if she didnt. That’s 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.
Balsquith
But public opinion would never stand it.
Mitchener
Walking about and laying down the law. There’s no such thing as public opinion.
Balsquith
No such thing as public opinion!!
Mitchener
Absolutely no such thing. 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.
Balsquith
But hang it all—
Mitchener
Intolerantly. No I won’t 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 won’t do what they are told to do, you shoot them down.
Balsquith
Oh, yes; it’s all jolly fine for you and Old Red. You don’t depend on votes for your places. What do you suppose would happen at the next election?
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.
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?
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.
Balsquith
That would cost a lot of money.
Mitchener
Not money necessarily. Bribe them with titles.
Balsquith
Do you think we dare?
Mitchener
Scornfully. Dare! Dare! What is life but daring, man? “To dare, to dare, and again to dare”—
Female Voice in the Street
Votes for Women! Mitchener, revolver in hand, rushes to the door and locks it. Balsquith hides under the table. Votes for Women!
A shot is heard.
Balsquith
Emerging in the greatest alarm. Good heavens, you haven’t given orders to fire on them: have you?
Mitchener
No; but it’s a sentinel’s duty to fire on anyone who persists in attempting to pass without giving the word.
Balsquith
Wiping his brow. This military business is really awful.
Mitchener
Be calm, Balsquith. These things must happen; they save bloodshed in the long run, believe me. I’ve seen plenty of it; and I know.
Balsquith
I haven’t; and I don’t know. I wish those guns didn’t make such a devil of a noise. We must adopt Maxim’s Silencer for the army rifles if we’re going to shoot women. I really couldn’t stand hearing it. Someone outside tries to open the door and then knocks. What’s that?
Mitchener
Who’s there?
The Orderly
It’s only me, governor. It’s all right.
Mitchener
Unlocking the door and admitting the Orderly, who comes between them. What was it?
The Orderly
Suffragette, sir.
Balsquith
Did the sentry shoot her?
The Orderly
No, sir: she shot the sentry.
Balsquith
Relieved. Oh: is that all?
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?
Balsquith
Much relieved. Well, getting shot is what a soldier is for. Besides, he doesn’t vote.
Mitchener
Neither do the suffragettes.
Balsquith
Their husbands do. To the Orderly. Did she kill him?
The Orderly
No, sir. He got a stinger on his trousers, sir; but it didn’t 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.
Mitchener
Groaning. Clouted her head! These women are making the army as lawless as themselves. Clouted her head indeed! A purely civil procedure.
The Orderly
Any orders, sir?
Mitchener
No. Yes. No. Yes: send everybody who took part in this disgraceful scene to the guardroom. No. I’ll 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.
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?
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.
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.
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 can’t go back on it now. Breaking loose from Balsquith. No: it’s no use, Balsquith: he can dictate his terms to you.
Balsquith
Not a bit of it. That affair of the curate—
Mitchener
Impatiently. Oh, damn that curate. I’ve 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 haven’t time to discuss him further. I’m busy. Good morning. He sits down at his table and takes up his letters.
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.
Mitchener
No order is unreasonable; and all orders are unpopular.
Balsquith
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 compulsory military service without full civil rights for the soldier—
Mitchener
Rot.
Balsquith
—I said that no British officer would be capable of abusing the authority with which it was absolutely necessary to invest him.
Mitchener
Quite right.
Balsquith
That carried the House;—
Mitchener
Naturally.
Balsquith
—and the feeling was that the Labor Party were soulless cads.
Mitchener
So they are.
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?
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.
Balsquith
What satisfaction?
Mitchener
Chubbs-Jenkinson would have been reprimanded. In fact, he was reprimanded. Besides, the man was thoroughly insubordinate. You can’t 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!
Balsquith
I bet you a guinea he won’t get even a week. I bet you another that Chubbs-Jenkinson apologizes abjectly. You evidently haven’t heard the news.
Mitchener
What news?
Balsquith
It turns out that the curate is well connected. Mitchener staggers at the shock. He 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; Lady Richmond’s one of them; Mitchener punctuates these announcements with heartrending groans 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. Mitchener attempts to shoot himself.
Balsquith
Seizing the pistol. No: your country needs you, Mitchener.
Mitchener
Putting down the pistol. For my country’s sake. Balsquith, reassured, sits down. But what an infernal young fool Chubbs-Jenkinson is, not to know the standing of his man better! Why didn’t he know? It was his business to know. He ought to be flogged.
Balsquith
Probably he will be, by the other subalterns.
Mitchener
I hope so. Anyhow, out he goes. Out of the army. He or I.
Balsquith
Steady, steady. His father has subscribed a million to the party funds. We owe him a peerage.
Mitchener
I don’t care.
Balsquith
I do. How do you think parties are kept up? Not by the subscriptions of the local associations, I hope. They don’t pay for the gas at the meetings.
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!!!!!
Balsquith
Gloomily. It’s unfortunate. He was at Oxford with Bobby Bessborough.
Mitchener
Worse and worse. What shall we do?
A Voice in the Street
Votes for Women! Votes for Women!
A terrific explosion shakes the building. They take no notice.
Mitchener
Breaking down. You don’t know what this means to me, Balsquith. I love the army. I love my country.
Balsquith
It certainly is rather awkward.
The Orderly comes in.
Mitchener
Angrily. What is it? How dare you interrupt us like this?
The Orderly
Didn’t you hear the explosion, sir?
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 walks in and asks me if I heard an explosion.
Balsquith
By the way, what was the explosion?
The Orderly
Only a sort of bombshell, sir.
Balsquith
Bombshell!
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.
Mitchener
Pooh! Go away. Go away.
The Orderly, bewildered, goes out.
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—
Mitchener
The old girl?
Balsquith
Well, Lady Richmond. Apologize to her. Ask her leave to accept the command. Tell her that you’ve made the curate your adjutant or your aide-de-camp or whatever is the proper thing. By the way, what can you make him?
Mitchener
I might make him my chaplain. I don’t see why I shouldn’t 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.
Balsquith
Then I’ve your promise to take command if Lady Richmond consents?
Mitchener
On condition that I have a free hand. No nonsense about public opinion or democracy.
Balsquith
As far as possible, I think I may say yes.
Mitchener
Rising intolerantly and going to the hearthrug. That won’t do for me. Don’t 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—
Balsquith
Stop. Stop, I say. I don’t 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.
Mitchener
We learn from history—
Balsquith
We learn from history that men never learn anything from history. That’s not my own: it’s Hegel.
Mitchener
Who’s Hegel?
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.
Mitchener
Then you must lay down twelve.
Balsquith
Oh yes: it’s easy to say that; but think of what they’ll cost.
Mitchener
Think of what it would cost to be invaded by Germany and forced to pay an indemnity of five hundred millions.
Balsquith
But you said that if you got compulsory military service there would be an end of the danger of invasion.
Mitchener
On the contrary, my dear fellow, it increases the danger tenfold, because it increases German jealousy of our military supremacy.
Balsquith
After all, why should the Germans invade us?
Mitchener
Why shouldn’t they? What else has their army to do? What else are they building a navy for?
Balsquith
Well, we never think of invading Germany.
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.
Balsquith
But if they won’t recognize it, what can I do?
Mitchener
Shoot them down.
Balsquith
I can’t shoot them down.
Mitchener
Yes you can. You don’t realize it; but if you fire a rifle into a German he drops just as surely as a rabbit does.
Balsquith
But dash it all, man, a rabbit hasn’t got a rifle and a German has. Suppose he shoots you down.
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.
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 don’t believe you ever go to bed without looking under it for a burglar.
Mitchener
Calmly. A very sensible precaution, Balsquith. I always take it; and, in consequence, I’ve never been burgled.
Balsquith
Neither have I. Anyhow, don’t 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. I’m not always looking under the nation’s bed for an invader. And if it comes to fighting, I’m quite willing to fight without being three to one.
Mitchener
These are the romantic ravings of a Jingo civilian, Balsquith. At least you’ll not deny that the absolute command of the sea is essential to our security.
Balsquith
The absolute command of the sea is essential to the security of the principality of Monaco. But Monaco isn’t going to get it.
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?
Balsquith
Dogmatically. Yes. There’s 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’s 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.
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.
Balsquith
My dear Mitchener, the moon is outside practical politics. I’d swap it for a coaling station tomorrow with Germany or any other Power sufficiently military in its way of thinking to attach any importance to it.
Mitchener
Losing his temper. You are the friend of every country but your own.
Balsquith
Say nobody’s enemy but my own. It sounds nicer. You really needn’t be so horribly afraid of the other countries. They’re all in the same fix as we are. I’m much more interested in the death rate in Lambeth than in the German fleet.
Mitchener
You daren’t say that in Lambeth.
Balsquith
I’ll say it the day after you publish your scheme for invading Germany and repealing all the Reform Acts.
The Orderly comes in.
Mitchener
What do you want?
The Orderly
I don’t want anything, governor, thank you. The secretary and president of the Anti-Suffragette League says they had an appointment with the Prime Minister, and that they’ve been sent on here from Downing Street.
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 suffragettes, especially as they are naturally the gentler and timider sort of women. The Orderly moans. Did you say anything?
The Orderly
No, sir.
Balsquith
Did you catch their names?
The Orderly
Yes, sir. The president is Lady Corinthia Fanshawe; and the secretary is Mrs. Banger.
Mitchener
Abruptly. Mrs. what?
The Orderly
Mrs. Banger.
Balsquith
Curious that quiet people always seem to have violent names.
The Orderly
Not much quiet about her, sir.
Mitchener
Outraged. Attention! Speak when you’re spoken to. Hold your tongue when you’re not. Right about face. March. The Orderly obeys. That’s the way to keep these chaps up to the mark. The Orderly returns. Back again! What do you mean by this mutiny?
The Orderly
What am I to say to the ladies, sir?
Balsquith
You don’t mind my seeing them somewhere, do you?
Mitchener
Not at all. Bring them in to see me when you’ve done with them: I understand that Lady Corinthia is a very fascinating woman. Who is she, by the way?
Balsquith
Daughter of Lord Broadstairs, the automatic turbine man. Gave quarter of a million to the party funds. She’s musical and romantic and all that—don’t 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.
Mitchener
What a life! To the Orderly. Where are the ladies?
The Orderly
In No. 17, Sir.
Mitchener
Show Mr. Balsquith there; and send Mrs. Farrell here.
The Orderly
Calling into the corridor. Mrs. Farrell! To Balsquith. This way sir. He goes out with Balsquith.
Mrs. Farrell, a lean, highly respectable Irish charwoman of about fifty, comes in.
Mitchener
Mrs. Farrell: I’ve 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. I’m therefore reluctantly obliged to trouble you.
Mrs. Farrell
Your meddles ’n’ ordhers ’n’ the crooked sword widh 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 you’d be sorry for sendin’ them away; and you told me to mind me own business. You’re wiser now.
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.
Mrs. Farrell
It’s no good flattherin’ me. I’m too old.
Mitchener
Not at all, Mrs. Farrell. How is your daughter?
Mrs. Farrell
Which daughther?
Mitchener
The one who has made such a gratifying success in the Music Halls.
Mrs. Farrell
There’s no music halls nowadays: they’re Variety Theatres. She’s got an offer of marriage from a young jook.
Mitchener
Is it possible? What did you do?
Mrs. Farrell
I told his mother on him.
Mitchener
Oh! What did she say?
Mrs. Farrell
She was as pleased as Punch. Thank Heaven, she says, he’s got somebody that’ll be able to keep him when the supertax is put up to twenty shillings in the pound.
Mitchener
But your daughter herself? What did she say?
Mrs. Farrell
Accepted him, of course. What else would a young fool like her do? He inthrojooced her to the Poet Laureate, thinkin’ she’d inspire him.
Mitchener
Did she?
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 throuble I’ve took with that child’s manners she’s no more notion how to behave herself than a pig. You’ll have to wear General Sandstone’s uniform: it’s the ony one in the place, because he won’t lend it to the shows.
Mitchener
But Sandstone’s clothes won’t fit me.
Mrs. Farrell
Unmoved. Then you’ll have to fit them. Why shouldn’t they fitchya as well as they fitted General Blake at the Mansion House?
Mitchener
They didn’t fit him. He looked a frightful guy.
Mrs. Farrell
Well, you must do the best you can with them. You can’t exhibit your clothes and wear them too.
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.
Mrs. Farrell
If they could only see the seamy side o’ General Sandstone’s uniform, where his flask rubs agen’ the buckle of his braces, they’d tell him he ought to get a new one. Let alone the way he swears at me.
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.
Mrs. Farrell
Would you put up with bad language from me because I’ve risked me life eight times in childbed?
Mitchener
My dear Mrs. Farrell, you surely would not compare a risk of that harmless domestic kind to the fearful risks of the battlefield.
Mrs. Farrell
I wouldn’t compare risks run to bear livin’ people into the world to risks run to blow dhem out of it. A mother’s risk is jooty: a soldier’s is nothin but divilmint.
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.
Mrs. Farrell
You can’t 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 wasn’t for that, the men’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?
Mitchener
Really, Mrs. Farrell, you must discuss these questions with a medical man. You make me blush, positively.
Mrs. Farrell
Grumbling to herself. A good job too. If I could have made Farrell blush I wouldn’t have had to risk me life so often. You ’n’ your risks ’n’ your bravery ’n’ your self-conthrol indeed! “Why don’t you conthrol yourself?” I sez to Farrell. “It’s agen’ me religion,” he sez.
Mitchener
Plaintively. Mrs. Farrell: you’re a woman of very powerful mind. I’m 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.
The Orderly comes in.
The Orderly
Lady Corinthia Fanshawe and Mrs. Banger want to see you, sir. Mr. Balsquith told me to tell you.
Mrs. Farrell
They’ve come about the vote. I don’t know whether it’s dhem dhat want it or dhem dhat doesn’t want it: anyhow, they’re all alike when they get into a state about it. She goes out, having gathered Balsquith’s suffragette disguise from the desk.
Mitchener
Is Mr. Balsquith not with them?
The Orderly
No, sir. Couldn’t stand Mrs. Banger, I expect. Fair caution she is. Chuckling. Couldn’t help larfin’ when I sor ’im ’op it.
Mitchener
Highly incensed. How dare you indulge in this unseemly mirth in the presence of your commanding officer? Have you no sense of a soldier’s duty?
The Orderly
Sadly. I’m afraid I shan’t ever get the ’ang of it, sir. You see, my father has a tidy little barber’s 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 gev my old mother the needle and it gev me the ’ump. I should take it very kind, sir, if you’d let me off the drill and let me shave you instead. You’d appreciate my qualities then: you would indeed, sir. I shan’t never do myself jastice at soljerin’, sir. I can’t bring myself to think of it as proper work for a man with an active mind, as you might say, sir. ’Arf of it’s only ’ousemaidin’; and t’other ’arf is dress-up and make-believe.
Mitchener
Stuff, sir. It’s 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.
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 sergeant’s orders is all right; but the officers don’t know what they’re talkin’ about. Why, the ’orses knows better sometimes. “Fours,” says Lieutenant Trevor at the gate of Buck’nam Palace only this mornin’ 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,” ’e whispers. An’ ’e was on to me again about it when we come back, and called me a fathead, ’e did. “What am I to do,” I says: “the lieutenant’s orders was fours,” I says. “I’ll show you who’s lieutenant here,” ’e says. “In future you attend to my orders and not to ’iz,” ’e says: “what does ’e know about it?” ’e says. “You didn’t give me any orders,” I says. “Couldn’t you see for yourself there wasn’t room for fours,” ’e says: “why can’t you think?” “General Mitchener tells me I’m 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,” ’e says, “you got to do what your sergeant tells you: that’s discipline,” ’e says. “And what am I to do for the General?” I says. “You’re to let him talk,” ’e says: “that’s what ’e’s for.”
Mitchener
Groaning. It is impossible for the human mind to conceive anything more dreadful than this. You’re a disgrace to the service.
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 fam’ly before.
Mitchener
There never was anything else in mine, sir.
The Orderly
My mother’s second cousin was one of the Parkinsons o’ Stepney. Almost in tears. What do you know of the feelings of a respectable family in the middle station of life? I can’t bear to be looked down on as a common soldier. Why can’t my father be let buy my discharge? You’ve done away with the soldier’s right to ’ave his discharge bought for him by his relations. The country didn’t know you were going to do that or it’d never ’ave stood it. Is an Englishman to be made a mockery like this?
Mitchener
Silence. Attention. Right about face. March.
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.
Mitchener
Poltroon. Crybaby. Well, better disgrace yourself here than disgrace your country on the field of battle.
The Orderly
Angrily coming to the table. Who’s going to disgrace his country on the field of battle. It’s not fightin’ I object to: it’s soljerin’. Show me a German and I’ll 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 ain’t pluck: that ain’t fightin’: that ain’t patriotism: it’s bein’ made a bloomin’ sheep of.
Mitchener
A sheep has many valuable military qualities. Emulate them, don’t disparage them.
The Orderly
Oh, wot’s the good of talkin’ to you? If I wasn’t a poor soldier I could punch your head for forty shillins or a month. But because you’re my commandin’ officer you deprive me of my right to a magistrate, and make a compliment of giving me two years ’ard ’sted o’ shootin’ me. Why can’t you take your chance the same as any civilian does?
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.
The Orderly
Call your grandmother. If you take one man off the doors the place’ll be full of suffragettes before you can wink.
Mitchener
Then arrest yourself; and off with you to the guardroom.
The Orderly
What am I to arrest myself for?
Mitchener
That’s nothing to you. You have your orders: obey them. Do you hear. Right about face. March.
The Orderly
How would you feel if you was told to right-about-face and march as if you was a doormat?
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.
The Orderly
What I’m saying to you is the voice of old England a jolly sight more than all this rot that you get out of books. I’d 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 ain’t polite; but it’s English. What you say ain’t anything at all. You don’t act on it yourself. You don’t believe in it. You’d punch my head if I tried it on you; and serve me right. And look here. Here’s another point for you to argue—
Mitchener
With a shriek of protest. No—
Mrs. Banger comes in followed by Lady Corinthia Fanshawe. 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.
Mrs. Banger
Throwing the door open decisively and marching straight to Michener. Pray how much longer is the Anti-Suffragette 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.
Mitchener
I’m 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.
The Orderly
All I said was—
Mitchener
Not another word. Attention. Right about face. March. The Orderly sits down doggedly. Get out of the room this instant, you fool, or I’ll kick you out.
The Orderly
Civilly. I don’t mind that, sir. It’s human. It’s English. Why couldn’t you have said it before? He goes out.
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.
Lady Corinthia and Mrs. Banger
Rising. Thank you. They sit down again.
Mitchener
Sitting down with a slight chuckle of satisfaction. And now, ladies, to what am I indebted—
Mrs. Banger
Let me introduce us. I am Rosa Carmina Banger: Mrs. Banger, organizing secretary of the Anti-Suffragette League. This is Lady Corinthia Fanshawe, the president of the League, known in musical circles—I am not 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 distinctions.
Mitchener
Murmuring politely. Most happy, I’m sure.
Mrs. Banger
We have come to tell you plainly that the Anti-Suffragettes are going to fight.
Mitchener
Gallantly. Oh, pray leave that to the men, Mrs. Banger.
Lady Corinthia
We can no longer trust the men.
Mrs. Banger
They have shown neither the strength, the courage, nor the determination which are needed to combat women like the suffragettes.
Lady Corinthia
Nature is too strong for the combatants.
Mrs. Banger
Physical struggles between persons of opposite sexes are unseemly.
Lady Corinthia
Demoralizing.
Mrs. Banger
Insincere.
Lady Corinthia
They are merely embraces in disguise.
Mrs. Banger
No such suspicion can attach to combats in which the antagonists are of the same sex.
Lady Corinthia
The Anti-Suffragettes have resolved to take the field.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Lady Corinthia
Producing an ivory-handled revolver and pointing it at his nose. You little know your countrywomen, General Mitchener.
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.
Mrs. Banger
Producing an eighteenth century horse pistol. Is it your duty to take possession of this also?
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.
Mrs. Banger
This pistol, sir, was carried at Waterloo by my grandmother.
Mitchener
I presume you mean your grandfather.
Mrs. Banger
You presume unwarrantably.
Lady Corinthia
Mrs. Banger’s grandmother commanded a canteen at that celebrated battle.
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.
Mitchener
Your sword!
Mrs. Banger
The sword with which I slew five Egyptians with my own hand at Kassassin, where I served as a trooper.
Mitchener
Lord bless me! But was your sex never discovered?
Mrs. Banger
It was never even suspected. I had a comrade—a gentleman ranker—whom they called Fanny. They never called me Fanny.
Lady Corinthia
The suffragettes have turned the whole woman movement on to the wrong track. They ask for a vote.
Mrs. Banger
What use is a vote? Men have the vote.
Lady Corinthia
And men are slaves.
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. 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.
Mitchener
Bismarck a woman!
Mrs. Banger
All the really strong men of history have been disguised women.
Mitchener
Remonstrating. My dear lady!
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?
Mitchener
Oh, come, come! Really! Surely female rulers have often shown all the feminine weaknesses. Queen Elizabeth, for instance. Her vanity, her levity—
Mrs. Banger
Nobody who has studied the history of Queen Elizabeth can doubt for a moment that she was a disguised man.
Lady Corinthia
Admiring Mrs. Banger. Isn’t she splendid!
Mrs. Banger
Rising with a large gesture. This very afternoon I shall cast off this hampering skirt forever; mount my charger; and with my good sabre lead the Anti-Suffragettes to victory. She strides to the other side of the room, snorting.
Mitchener
But I can’t allow anything of the sort, madam. I shall stand no such ridiculous nonsense. I’m perfectly determined to put my foot down—
Lady Corinthia
Don’t be hysterical, General.
Mitchener
Hysterical!
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”—
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. The Orderly comes in. Remove that woman. See that she leaves the building at once.
The Orderly forlornly contemplates the iron front presented by Mrs. Banger.
The Orderly
Propitiatorily. Would you ’av the feelin’ ’art to step out, madam.
Mrs. Banger
You are a soldier. Obey your orders. Put me out. If I got such an order I should not hesitate.
The Orderly
To Mitchener. Would you mind lendin’ me a ’and, Guvner?
Lady Corinthia
Raising her revolver. I shall be obliged to shoot you if you stir, General.
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.
Lady Corinthia
Isn’t she magnificent?
Mitchener
Thank heaven she’s gone. And now, my dear lady, is it necessary to keep that loaded pistol to my nose all through our conversation?
Lady Corinthia
It’s not loaded. It’s heavy enough, goodness knows, without putting bullets in it.
Mitchener
Triumphantly snatching his revolver from the drawer. Then I am master of the situation. This is loaded. Ha, ha!
Lady Corinthia
But since we are not really going to shoot one another, what difference can it possibly make?
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 suffragettes.
Lady Corinthia
The suffragettes, General, are the dupes of dowdies. A really attractive and clever woman—
Mitchener
Gallantly. Yourself, for instance.
Lady Corinthia
Snatching up his revolver. Another step and you are a dead man.
Mitchener
Amazed. My dear lady!
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 in alt 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—
Mitchener
I solemnly protest—
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.
Mitchener
This is perfectly ridiculous. I never ruined anyone in my life.
Lady Corinthia
Never! Are you in earnest?
Mitchener
Certainly I am in earnest. Most indignantly in earnest.
Lady Corinthia
Throwing down the pistol contemptuously. Then you have no temperament; you are not an artist. You have no soul for music.
Mitchener
I’ve 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 Forever” at Knightsbridge in 1880 the whole regiment wept. You are too young to remember that.
Lady Corinthia
Your advances are useless. I—
Mitchener
Confound it, madam, can you not receive an innocent compliment without suspecting me of dishonorable intentions?
Lady Corinthia
Love—real love—makes all intentions honorable. But you could never understand that.
Mitchener
I’ll 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 I’ll raise my voice—
Lady Corinthia
Tush!
Mitchener
What do you mean by tush?
Lady Corinthia
You can’t raise your voice above its natural compass. What sort of voice have you?
Mitchener
A tenor. What sort had you?
Lady Corinthia
Had! I have it still. I tell you I am the highest living soprano. Scornfully. What was your highest note, pray?
Mitchener
B flat—once—in 1879. I was drunk at the time.
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.
Mitchener
Springing up and fuming away to the fireplace. Those 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.
Lady Corinthia
Fish.
Mitchener
Fish! This is worse than tush. Why fish?
Lady Corinthia
Yes, fish: coldblooded fish.
Mitchener
Dash it all, madam, do you want me to make advances to you?
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?
Mitchener
Making a movement towards her. I tell you—
Lady Corinthia
Stop. No nearer. No vulgar sensuousness. If you must adore, adore at a distance.
Mitchener
This is worse than Mrs. Banger. I shall ask that estimable woman to come back.
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.
Mitchener
Do you find the combination comfortable?
Lady Corinthia
I do not wear combinations, General: with dignity they are unwomanly.
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.
Lady Corinthia
There is no need to blush and become self-conscious at the mention of underclothing. You are extremely vulgar, General.
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 you’ll not get another word out of me—not if we sit here until doomsday.
Lady Corinthia
I don’t 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 suffragette movement is essentially a dowdy movement. The suffragettes are not all dowdies; but they are mainly supported by dowdies. Now I am not a dowdy. Oh, no compliments—
Mitchener
I did not utter a sound.
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 suffragettes 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 suffragettes themselves. The only ones who are popular are the pretty ones, who flirt with mobs as ordinary women flirt with officers.
Mitchener
Then I understand you to hold that the country should be governed by the women after all.
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.
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.
Lady Corinthia
That is not a very delicate way of putting it; but I suppose that is how you would express what I mean.
Mitchener
Perhaps you’ve 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.
Lady Corinthia
What do you mean by a bad lot?
Mitchener
I mean a woman who would play the very devil if the other women didn’t keep her in pretty strict order. I don’t approve of democracy, because it’s rot; and I’m against giving the vote to women because I’m 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.
Lady Corinthia
You have a coarse mind, General Mitchener.
Mitchener
So has Mrs. Banger. And, by George! I prefer Mrs. Banger to you!
Lady Corinthia
Bounding to her feet. You prefer Mrs. Banger to me!!!
Mitchener
I do. You said yourself she was splendid.
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.
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 hasn’t any charm; and she has no high notes except when she’s giving her husband a piece of her mind, or calling down the street for one of the children.
Lady Corinthia
How disgusting!
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.
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?
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 it’s 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 don’t want to have things arranged for me by Wagner. I’m 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 haven’t made her comfortable unless she has a vote? Do you want her to come and break your windows?
Lady Corinthia
Am I to understand that General Mitchener is a democrat and a suffragette?
Mitchener
Yes: you have converted me—you and Mrs. Banger.
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.
Balsquith
Mitchener: the game is up.
Mitchener
What do you mean?
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.
Mitchener
Infernal impudence!
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.
Mitchener
Balsquith: we must not yield to clamor. I have just told this lady that I am at last convinced—
Balsquith
Joyfully.—that the suffragettes must be supported?
Mitchener
No: that the anti-suffragettes must be put down at all hazards.
Balsquith
Same thing.
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 ask for it.
Balsquith
Earnestly. Mitchener: it’s no use. You can’t have the conveniences of Democracy without its occasional inconveniences.
Mitchener
What are its conveniences, I should like to know?
Balsquith
Well, 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 you’re landed.
Mitchener
Sh—
Balsquith
Desperately shouting him down. No: it’s no use telling me to shoot them down: I’m not going to do it. After all, I don’t suppose votes for women will make much difference. It hasn’t in the other countries in which it has been tried.
Mitchener
I never supposed it would make any difference. What I can’t 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 wouldn’t have happened. It’s a consolation to me that events are proving how thoroughly right I was.
The Orderly rushes in.
The Orderly
Look ’ere, sir: Mrs. Banger locked the door of General Sandstone’s room on the inside; an’ she’s sittin’ on his ’ead ’til he signs a proclamation for women to serve in the army.
Mitchener
Put your shoulder to the door and burst it open.
The Orderly
It’s only in storybooks that doors burst open as easy as that. Besides, I’m only too thankful to ’av a locked door between me and Mrs. B.; and so is all the rest of us.
Mitchener
Cowards. Balsquith: to the rescue! He dashes out.
Balsquith
Ambling calmly to the hearth. This is the business of the Sergeant at Arms rather than of the leader of the House. There’s no use in my tackling Mrs. Banger: she would only sit on my head too.
The Orderly
You take my tip, Mr. Balsquith. Give the women the vote and give the army civil rights; and ’av done with it.
Mitchener returns and comes between them.
Mitchener
Balsquith: prepare to hear the worst.
Balsquith
Sandstone is no more?
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 hadn’t 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.
The Orderly
Chuckling. Wot ’oh, General! Wot ’oh!
Mitchener
Hold your tongue. He goes to the door and calls. Mrs. Farrell! He returns, and again addresses the Orderly. Civil rights don’t mean the right to be uncivil. Pleased with his own wit. Almost a pun. Ha ha!
Mrs. Farrell
What’s the matther now? She comes to the table.
Mitchener
To the Orderly. I have private business with Mrs. Farrell. Outside, you infernal blackguard.
The Orderly
Arguing, as usual. Well, I didn’t ask to—Mitchener seizes him by the nape; rushes him out; slams the door; and comes solemnly to Mrs. Farrell.
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.
Mrs. Farrell
D’ye mean you want to marry me?
Mitchener
I do.
Mrs. Farrell
No thank you. I’d have to work for you just the same; only I shouldn’t get any wages for it.
Balsquith
That will be remedied when women get the vote. I’ve had to promise that.
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?
Mrs. Farrell
I’ve been too busy casting an unfavorable eye on your cloze an’ on the litther you make with your papers.
Mitchener
Wounded. Am I to understand that you refuse me?
Mrs. Farrell
Just wait a bit. She takes Mitchener’s chair and rings up the telephone. Double three oh seven Elephant.
Mitchener
I trust you’re not ringing for the police, Mrs. Farrell. I assure you I’m perfectly sane.
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; an’ tell her her mother wants to speak to her very particularly about General Mitchener. To Mitchener. Don’t you be afeard: I know you’re sane enough when you’re not talkin’ about the Germans. Into the telephone. Is that you, Eliza? She listens for the answer. D’ye 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 playin’ any cards at all. What d’ye think I ought to say? She listens. Well, I’m no chicken meself. To Mitchener. How old are you?
Mitchener
With an effort. Fifty-two.
Mrs. Farrell
Into the telephone. He says he’s fifty-two. She listens; then, to Mitchener. She says you’re down in Who’s Who as sixty-one.
Mitchener
Damn Who’s Who!
Mrs. Farrell
Into the telephone. Anyhow I wouldn’t let that stand in the way. She listens. If I really what? She listens. I can’t hear you. If I really what? She listens. Who druv him? I never said a word to—Eh? She listens. Oh, love him. Arra, don’t be a fool, child. To Mitchener. She wants to know do I really love you. Into the telephone. It’s likely indeed I’d frighten the man off with any such nonsense, at my age. What? She listens. Well, that’s just what I was thinkin’.
Mitchener
May I ask what you were thinking, Mrs. Farrell? This suspense is awful.
Mrs. Farrell
I was thinkin’ that p’raps the Duchess might like her daughther-in-law’s mother to be a General’s lady betther than to be a charwoman. Into the telephone. Wait’le you’re married yourself, me fine lady: you’ll find out that every woman’s a charwoman from the day she’s married. She listens. Then you think I might take him? She listens. G’lang, you young scald: if I had you here I’d teach you manners. She listens. That’s enough now. Back wid you to bed; and be thankful I’m 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 Mitch me love,” she says.
The Orderly opens the door, ushering in Lady Corinthia.
The Orderly
Lady Corinthia Fanshawe to speak to you, sir.
Lady Corinthia
General Mitchener: your designs on Mrs. Banger are defeated. She is engaged to General Sandstone. Do you still prefer her to me?
Mrs. Farrell
He’s out o’ the hunt. He’s engaged to me.
The Orderly, overcome by this news, reels from the door to the standing desk and clutches the stool to save himself from collapsing.
Mitchener
And extremely proud of it, Lady Corinthia.
Lady Corinthia
Contemptuously. She suits you exactly. Coming to Balsquith. Mr. Balsquith: you, at least, are not a Philistine.
Balsquith
No, Lady Corinthia; but I’m a confirmed bachelor. I don’t want a wife; but I want an Egeria.
Mrs. Farrell
More shame for you!
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?
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.
Lady Corinthia
I do not sing comic songs. Neither will you when I am your Egeria. You must come to my musical at-home this afternoon. I will allow you to sit at my feet.
Balsquith
Doing so. That is my ideal of romantic happiness. It commits me exactly as far as I desire to venture. Thank you.
The Orderly
Wot price me, General? Won’t you celebrate your engagement by doin’ something for me? Mayn’t I be promoted to be a sergeant.
Mitchener
You’re 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.
The Orderly
Hooray! The Parkinsons o’ Stepney’ll be proud to have me call on ’em now. I’ll go and tell the sergeant what I think of him. Hooray! He rushes out.
Mrs. Farrell
Going to the door and calling after him. You might have the manners to shut the door afther you. She shuts it and comes between Mitchener and Lady Corinthia.
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.
Mrs. Farrell
You’d only feel like a fool; and so would I.
Mitchener
You are really the most sensible woman. I’ve made an extremely wise choice. He kisses her hand.
Lady Corinthia
To Balsquith. You may kiss my hand, if you wish.
Balsquith
Cautiously. I think we had better not commit ourselves too far. Let us change a subject which threatens to become embarrassing. To Mitchener. The moral of the occasion for you, Mitchener, appears to be that you’ve got to give up treating soldiers as if they were schoolboys.
Mitchener
The moral for you, Balsquith, is that you’ve got to give up treating women as if they were angels. Ha ha!
Mrs. Farrell
It’s a mercy you’ve found one another out at last. That’s enough now.