PRESS CUTTINGS

Bernard Shaw

1913

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: The edition from which this etext was taken lackscontractions, so it reads dont for don't and Ill for I'll, for example. The play has been reproduced exactly as printed. 

The forenoon of the first of April, 1911. 

General Mitchener is at his writing table in the War Office, openingletters. On his left is the fireplace, with a fire burning. On hisright, against the opposite wall is a standing desk with an officestool. The door is in the wall behind him, half way between the tableand the desk. The table is not quite in the middle of the room: it isnearer to the hearthrug than to the desk. There is a chair at each endof it for persons having business with the general. There is a telephoneon 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 therevolver back, ashamed; wipes his brow; and resumes his work. Heis startled afresh by the entry of an Orderly. This Orderly is anunsoldierly, slovenly, discontented young man. 

MITCHENER. Oh, it's only you. Well?

THE ORDERLY. Another one, sir. Shes chained herself. 

MITCHENER. Chained herself? How? To what? Weve taken away the railingsand everything that a chain can be passed through. 

THE ORDERLY. We forgot the doorscraper, sir. She laid down on the flagsand got the chain through before she started hollerin. Shes lying therenow; and she says that youve got the key of the padlock in a letter in abuff envelope, and that you will see her when you open it. 

MITCHENER. Shes mad. Have the scraper dug up and let her go home with ithanging round her neck. 

THE ORDERLY. Theres a buff envelope there, sir. 

MITCHENER. Youre all afraid of these women (picking the letter up). Itdoes seem to have a key in it. (He opens the letter, and takes out a keyand a note. ) "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 ifyoull excuse my saying it, Sir--well, you looked it. 

MITCHENER (who has been reading the letter, and is too astonished toattend to the Orderlys reply). This is a letter from the Prime Ministerasking 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). Dont do it, governor. 

MITCHENER (angrily). How often have I ordered you not to address me asgovernor. 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. 

THE ORDERLY. Me unlock her! I dursent. Lord knows what she'd do to me. 

MITCHENER (pepperily, rising). Obey your orders instantly, Sir, and dontpresume to argue. Even if she kills you, it is your duty to die for yourcountry. 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 forWomen! (in his natural voice) Votes for children! Votes for babies!Votes for monkeys! (He posts himself on the hearthrug, and awaits theenemy. )

THE ORDERLY (outside). In you go. (He pushes a panting Suffraget intothe room. ) The person sir. (He withdraws. )

The Suffraget takes off her tailor made skirt and reveals a pair offashionable trousers. 

MITCHENER (horrified). Stop, madam. What are you doing? You must notundress in my presence. I protest. Not even your letter from the PrimeMinister--

THE SUFFRAGET. My dear Mitchener: I AM the Prime Minister. (He tears offhis hat and cloak; throws them on the desk; and confronts the General inthe ordinary costume of a Cabinet minister. )

MITCHENER. Good heavens! Balsquith!

BALSQUITH (throwing himself into Mitchener's chair). Yes: it is indeedBalsquith. It has come to this: that the only way that the PrimeMinister of England can get from Downing Street to the War Office isby assuming this disguise; shrieking "VOTES for Women"; and chaininghimself to your doorscraper. They were at the corner in force. Theycheered me. Bellachristina herself was there. She shook my hand and toldme to say I was a vegetarian, as the diet was better in Holloway forvegetarians. 

MITCHENER. Why didnt you telephone?

BALSQUITH. They tap the telephone. Every switchboard in London is intheir hands or in those of their young men. 

MITCHENER. Where on Earth did you get that dress?

BALSQUITH. I stole it from a little Exhibition got up by my wife inDowning Street. 

MITCHENER. You dont mean to say its a French dress?

BALSQUITH. Great Heavens, no. My wife isnt allowed even to put on hergloves with French chalk. Everything labelled Made in Camberwell. Sheadvised me to come to you. And what I have to say must be said here toyou personally, in the most intimate confidence, with the most urgentpersuasion. Mitchener: Sandstone has resigned. 

MITCHENER (amazed). Old Red resigned!

BALSQUITH. Resigned. 

MITCHENER. But how? Why? Oh, impossible! the proclamation of martial lawlast Tuesday made Sandstone virtually Dictator in the metropolis, and toresign now is flat desertion. 

BALSQUITH. Yes, yes, my dear Mitchener; I know all that as well as youdo: I argued with him until I was black in the face and he so redabout the neck that if I had gone on he would have burst. He is furiousbecause 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 dont know. Why is it unworkable?

BALSQUITH. I mean the part about drawing a cordon round Westminster at adistance of two miles; and turning all women out of it. 

MITCHENER. A masterpiece of strategy. Let me explain. The Suffragets area very small body; but they are numerous enough to be troublesome--evendangerous--when they are all concentrated in one place--say inParliament Square. But by making a two-mile radius and pushing thembeyond it, you scatter their attack over a circular line twelve mileslong. A superb piece of tactics. Just what Wellington would have done. 

BALSQUITH. But the women wont go. 

MITCHENER. Nonsense: they must go. 

BALSQUITH. They wont. 

MITCHENER. What does Sandstone say?

BALSQUITH. He says: Shoot them down. 

MITCHENER. Of course. 

BALSQUITH. Youre not serious?

MITCHENER. Im perfectly serious. 

BALSQUITH. But you cant shoot them down! Women, you know!

MITCHENER (straddling confidently). Yes you can. Strange as it may seemto you as a civilian, Balsquith, if you point a rifle at a woman andfire 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 after thought. ) At least Helen wouldnt. 

BALSQUITH. But Georgina?

MITCHENER. Georgina would if she knew shed be shot if she didnt. Thatshow the thing would work. Military methods are really the most mercifulin the end. You keep sending these misguided women to Holloway andkilling them slowly and inhumanely by ruining their health; and it doesno 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 thesuffering that resistance entails. 

BALSQUITH. But public opinion would never stand it. 

MITCHENER (walking about and laying down the law). Theres no such thingas public opinion. 

BALSQUITH. No such thing as public opinion!!

MITCHENER. Absolutely no such thing as public opinion. There are certainpersons who entertain certain opinions. Well, shoot them down. When youhave shot them down, there are no longer any persons entertaining thoseopinions alive: consequently there is no longer any more of the publicopinion 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 themind. 

BALSQUITH. But hang it all--

MITCHENER (intolerantly). No I wont hang it all. It's no use comingto me and talking about public opinion. You have put yourself into thehands of the army; and you are committed to military methods. And thebasis of all military methods is that when people wont do what they aretold to do, you shoot them down. 

BALSQUITH. Oh, yes; it's all jolly fine for you and Old Red. You dontdepend on votes for your places. What do you suppose will happen at thenext election?

MITCHENER. Have no next election. Bring in a Bill at once repealingall the reform Acts and vesting the Government in a properly trainedmagistracy responsible only to a Council of War. It answers perfectly inIndia. If anyone objects, shoot him down. 

BALSQUITH. But none of the members of my party would be on the Councilof War. Neither should I. Do you expect us to vote for making ourselvesnobodies?

MITCHENER. You'll have to, sooner or later, or the Socialists will makenobodies of the lot of you by collaring every penny you possess. Do yousuppose this damned democracy can be allowed to go on now that the mobis beginning to take it seriously and using its power to lay hands onproperty? Parliament must abolish itself. The Irish parliament voted forits own extinction. The English parliament will do the same if the samemeans 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? "Todare, to dare, and again to dare"--

WOMAN'S VOICE OUTSIDE. Votes for Women!

Mitchener, revolver in hand, rushes to the door and locks it. Balsquithhides under the table. 

A shot is heard. 

BALSQUITH (emerging in the greatest alarm). Good heavens, you haventgiven orders to fire on them have you?

MITCHENER. No; but its a sentinel's duty to fire on anyone who persistsin 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 savebloodshed in the long run, believe me. Ive seen plenty of it; and Iknow. 

BALSQUITH. I havent; and I dont know. I wish those guns didnt make sucha devil of a noise. We must adopt Maxim's Silencer for the army riflesif we are going to shoot women. I really couldnt stand hearing it. 

Some one outside tries to open the door and then knocks. 

MITCHENER and BALSQUITH. Whats that?

MITCHENER. Whos there?

THE ORDERLY. It's only me, governor. Its all right. 

MITCHENER (unlocking the door and admitting the Orderly, who comesbetween them). What was it?

THE ORDERLY. Suffraget, 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 HisMajesty's soldiers on duty; and the Prime Minister of England asks Isthat 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 doesnt vote. 

MITCHENER. Neither do the Suffragets. 

BALSQUITH. Their husbands do. (To the Orderly. ) By the way, did she killhim?

THE ORDERLY. No, Sir. He got a stinger on his trousers, Sir; but itdidnt penetrate. He lost his temper a bit and put down his gun andclouted her head for her. So she said he was no gentleman; and we lether go, thinking she'd had enough, Sir. 

MITCHENER (groaning). Clouted her head! These women are making thearmy as lawless as themselves. Clouted her head indeed! A purely civilprocedure. 

THE ORDERLY. Any orders, Sir?

MITCHENER. No. Yes. No. Yes: send everybody who took part in thisdisgraceful scene to the guardroom. No. Ill address the men on thesubject after lunch. Parade them for that purpose--full kit. Don't grinat me, Sir. Right about face. March. (The Orderly obeys and goes out. )

BALSQUITH (taking Mitchener affectionately by the arm and walking himpersuasively to and fro). And now, Mitchener, will you come to therescue of the Government and take the command that Old Red has thrownup?

MITCHENER. How can I? You know that the people are devoted heart andsoul to Sandstone. He is only bringing you "on the knee, " as we say inthe army. Could any other living man have persuaded the British nationto 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 reminiscenceswent into two more editions than his, and the rush for it led to thewrecking of the Times Book Club, you have become to all intents andpurposes his senior. He lost ground by saying that the wrecking was gotup 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 lessafter the handsome way he cracked me up in his--and I cant go back on itnow. (Breaking loose from Balsquith. ) No: its no use, Balsquith: he candictate his terms to you. 

BALSQUITH. Not a bit of it. That affair of the curate--

MITCHENER (impatiently). Oh, damn that curate. Ive heard of nothing butthat wretched mutineer for a fortnight past. He is not a curate: whilsthe is serving in the army he is a private soldier and nothing else. Ireally havent time to discuss him further. Im busy. Good morning. (Hesits 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 LieutenantChubbs-Jenkinson showed a great want of consideration for the Governmentin giving an unreasonable and unpopular order, and bringing compulsorymilitary service into disrepute. When the leader of the Labor Partyappealed to me and to the House last year not to throw away all theliberties of Englishmen by accepting universal Compulsory militaryservice without insisting on full civil rights for the soldier--

MITCHENER. Rot. 

BALSQUITH. --I said that no British officer would be capable of abusingthe authority with which it was absolutely necessary to invest him. 

MITCHENER. Quite right. 

BALSQUITH. That carried the House and carried the country--

MITCHENER. Naturally. 

BALSQUITH. --And the feeling was that the Labor Party were soullesscads. 

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 lickhis boots. And when the curate punches his head, you first sentence himto be shot; and then make a great show of clemency by commuting it to aflogging. What did you expect the curate to do?

MITCHENER (throwing down his pen and his letters and jumping up toconfront Balsquith). His duty was perfectly simple. He should haveobeyed the order; and then laid his complaint against the officer inproper form. He would have received the fullest satisfaction. 

BALSQUITH. What satisfaction?

MITCHENER. Chubbs-Jenkinson would have been reprimanded. In fact, heWAS reprimanded. Besides, the man was thoroughly insubordinate. Youcant deny that the very first thing he did when they took him down afterflogging him was to walk up to Chubbs-Jenkinson and break his jaw. Thatshowed there was no use flogging him; so now he will get two years hardlabor; and serve him right. 

BALSQUITH. I bet you a guinea he wont get even a week. I bet you anotherthat Chubbs-Jenkinson apologizes abjectly. You evidently havent heardthe news. 

MITCHENER. What news?

BALSQUITH. It turns out that the curate is well connected. (Mitchenerstaggers at the shock. Speechless he contemplates Balsquith with a wildand ghastly stare; then reels into his chair and buries his face in hishands over the blotter. Balsquith continues remorselessly, stoopingover him to rub it in. ) He has three aunts in the peerage; and LadyRichmond's one of them; (Mitchener utters a heartrending groan) andthey all adore him. The invitations for six garden parties and fourteendances have been cancelled for all the subalterns in Chubbs's regiment. Is it possible you havent heard of it?

MITCHENER. Not a word. 

BALSQUITH (shaking his head). I suppose nobody dared to tell you. (Hesits down carelessly on Mitchener's right. )

MITCHENER. What an infernal young fool Chubbs-Jenkinson is, not to knowthe standing of his man better! Why didnt he know? It was his businessto 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. His father has subscribed a million to the party funds. Weowe him a peerage. 

MITCHENER. I dont care. 

BALSQUITH. I do. How do you think parties are kept up? Not by thesubscriptions of the local associations, I hope. They dont pay for thegas at the meetings. 

MITCHENER. Man; can you not be serious? Here are we, face to face withLady Richmond's grave displeasure; and you talk to me about gas andsubscriptions. Her own nephew. 

BALSQUITH (gloomily). Its unfortunate. He was at Oxford with BobbyBassborough. 

MITCHENER. Worse and worse. What shall we do?

Balsquith shakes his head. They contemplate one another in miserablesilence. 

A VOICE WITHOUT. Votes for Women! Votes for Women!

A terrific explosion shakes the building--they take no notice. 

MITCHENER (breaking down). You dont 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. Didnt you hear the explosion, Sir?

MITCHENER. Explosion. What explosion? No: I heard no explosion: I havesomething more serious to attend to than explosions. Great Heavens: LadyRichmond's nephew has been treated like any common laborer; and whileEngland is reeling under the shock a private comes in and asks me if Iheard 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 forWomen in red letters. Fired into the yard from the roof of the AllianceOffice. 

MITCHENER. Pooh! Go away. Go away. 

The Orderly, bewildered, goes out. 

BALSQUITH. Mitchener: you can save the country yet. Put on yourfull-dress uniform and your medals and orders and so forth. Get a guardof honor--something showy--horse guards or something of that sort; andcall on the old girl--

MITCHENER. The old girl?

BALSQUITH. Well, Lady Richmond. Apologize to her. Ask her leave toaccept the command. Tell her that youve made the curate your adjutant oryour aide-de-camp or whatever is the proper thing. By the way, what canyou make him?

MITCHENER. I might make him my chaplain. I dont see why I shouldnt havea chaplain on my staff. He showed a very proper spirit in punching thatyoung cub's head. I should have done the same myself. 

BALSQUITH. Then Ive your promise to take command if Lady Richmondconsents?

MITCHENER. On condition that I have a free hand. No nonsense aboutpublic opinion or democracy. 

BALSQUITH. As far as possible, I think I may say yes. 

MITCHENER (rising intolerantly and going to the hearthrug). That wont dofor me. Dont be weak-kneed, Balsquith. You know perfectly well that thereal government of this country is and always must be the government ofthe masses by the classes. You know that democracy is damned nonsense, and that no class stands less of it than the working class. You knowthat we are already discussing the steps that will have to be taken ifthe country should ever be face to face with the possibility of aLabor majority in parliament. You know that in that case we shoulddisfranchise the mob, and, if they made a fuss, shoot them down. Youknow that if we need public opinion to support us, we can get anyquantity of it manufactured in our papers by poor devils of journalistswho will sell their souls for five shillings. You know--

BALSQUITH. Stop. Stop, I say. I dont know. That is the differencebetween your job and mine, Mitchener. After twenty years in the army aman thinks he knows everything. After twenty months in the Cabinet heknows that he knows nothing. 

MITCHENER. We learn from history--

BALSQUITH. We learn from history that men never learn anything fromhistory. Thats not my own: its Hegel. 

MITCHENER. Whos Hegel?

BALSQUITH. Dead. A German philosopher. (He half rises, but recollectssomething and sits down again. ) Oh confound it: that reminds me. TheGermans have laid down four more Dreadnoughts. 

MITCHENER. Then you must lay down twelve. 

BALSQUITH. Oh yes: its easy to say that: but think of what theyll cost. 

MITCHENER. Think of what it would cost to be invaded by Germany andforced to pay an indemnity of five hundred millions. 

BALSQUITH. But you said that if you got compulsory military servicethere would be an end of the danger of invasion. 

MITCHENER. On the contrary, my dear fellow, it increases the dangertenfold, because it increases German jealousy of our military supremacy. 

BALSQUITH. After all, why should the Germans invade us?

MITCHENER. Why shouldnt they? What else has their army to do? What elseare 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 tenyears. Say what you will, Balsquith, the Germans have never recognized, and until they get a stern lesson, they never WILL recognize, the plainfact that the interests of the British Empire are paramount, and thatthe command of the sea belongs by nature to England. 

BALSQUITH. But if they wont recognize it, what can I do?

MITCHENER. Shoot them down. 

BALSQUITH. I cant shoot them down. 

MITCHENER. Yes you can. You dont realize it; but if you fire a rifleinto a German he drops just as surely as a rabbit does. 

BALSQUITH But dash it all, man, a rabbit hasnt got a rifle and a Germanhas. Suppose he shoots you down. 

MITCHENER. Excuse me, Balsquith; but that consideration is what we callcowardice in the army. A soldier always assumes that he is going toshoot, not to be shot. 

BALSQUITH (jumping up and walking about sulkily). Oh come! I like tohear you military people talking of cowardice. Why, you spend your livesin an ecstasy of terror of imaginary invasions. I dont believe you evergo to bed without looking under it for a burglar. 

MITCHENER (calmly). A very sensible precaution, Balsquith. I always takeit. And in consequence Ive never been burgled. 

BALSQUITH. Neither have I. Anyhow dont you taunt me with cowardice. (Heposts himself on the hearthrug beside Mitchener on his left. ) I neverlook under my bed for a burglar. Im not always looking under thenation's bed for an invader. And if it comes to fighting Im quitewilling to fight without being three to one. 

MITCHENER. These are the romantic ravings of a Jingo civilian, Balsquith. At least youll not deny that the absolute command of the seais essential to our security. 

BALSQUITH. The absolute command of the sea is essential to the securityof the principality of Monaco. But Monaco isnt going to get it. 

MITCHENER. And consequently Monaco enjoys no security. What a frightfulthing! How do the inhabitants sleep with the possibility of invasion, of bombardment, continually present to their minds? Would you have ourEnglish slumbers broken in the same way? Are we also to live withoutsecurity?

BALSQUITH (dogmatically). Yes. Theres no such thing as security in theworld: and there never can be as long as men are mortal. England will besecure when England is dead, just as the streets of London will besafe when there is no longer a man in her streets to be run over, or avehicle to run over him. When you military chaps ask for security youare crying for the moon. 

MITCHENER (very seriously). Let me tell you, Balsquith, that in thesedays of aeroplanes and Zeppelin airships, the question of the moon isbecoming one of the greatest importance. It will be reached at novery distant date. Can you as an Englishman, tamely contemplate thepossibility of having to live under a German moon? The British flagmust be planted there at all hazards. 

BALSQUITH. My dear Mitchener, the moon is outside practical politics. Idswop it for a cooling station tomorrow with Germany or any other Powersufficiently military in its way of thinking to attach any importance toit. 

MITCHENER (losing his temper). You are the friend of every country butyour own. 

BALSQUITH. Say nobodys enemy but my own. It sounds nicer. You reallyneednt be so horribly afraid of the other countries. Theyre all in thesame fix as we are. Im much more interested in the death rate in Lambeththan in the German fleet. 

MITCHENER. You darent say that in Lambeth. 

BALSQUITH. Ill say it the day after you publish your scheme for invadingGermany and repealing all the reform Acts. 

The Orderly comes in. 

MITCHENER. What do you want?

THE ORDERLY. I dont want anything, Governor, thank you. The secretaryand president of the Anti-Suffraget League say they had an appointmentwith the Prime Minister, and that theyve been sent on here from DowningStreet. 

BALSQUITH (going to the table). Quite right. I forgot them. (ToMitchener. ) Would you mind my seeing them here? I feel extraordinarilygrateful 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?

THE ORDERLY. No, Sir. 

BALSQUITH. Did you catch their names. 

THE ORDERLY. Yes, Sir. The president is Lady Corinthia Fanshawe; and thesecretary 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 youre spoken to. Hold yourtongue 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?

THE ORDERLY. What am I to say to the ladies, sir?

BALSQUITH. You dont mind my seeing them somewhere, do you?

MITCHENER. Not at all. Bring them in to see me when youve done withthem: I understand that Lady Corinthia is a very fascinating woman. Whois she, by the way?

BALSQUITH. Daughter of Lord Broadstairs, the automatic turbine man. Gavequarter of a million to the party funds. Shes musical and romantic andall 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-homesand so forth. 

MITCHENER. What a life! Still, if she wants to see me I dont mind. (Tothe 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 50comes in. 

MITCHENER. Mrs. Farrell: Ive a very important visit to pay: I shall wantmy full dress uniform and all my medals and orders and my presentationsword. There was a time when the British Army contained men capable ofdischarging these duties for their commanding officer. Those days areover. The compulsorily enlisted soldier runs to a woman for everything. Im therefore reluctantly obliged to trouble you. 

MRS FARRELL. Your meddles n ordhers n the crooked sword with the ivoryhandle n your full dress uniform is in the waxworks in the Chamber oMilitary 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 meown business. Youre wiser now. 

MITCHENER. I am. I had not at that time discovered that you were theonly person in the whole military establishment of this capital whocould be trusted to remember where anything was, or to understand anorder and obey it. 

MRS. FARRELL. Its no good flattherin me. Im 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 MusicHalls. 

MRS. FARRELL. Theres no music halls nowadays: theyre Variety Theatres. Shes 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, hesgot somebody thatll be able to keep him when the supertax is put up totwenty 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 likeher do? He inthrojooced her to the Poet Laureate, thinking shed inspirehim. 

MITCHENER. Did she?

MRS. FARRELL. Faith I dunna. All I know is she walked up to him as boldas brass n said "Write me a sketch, dear. " Afther all the trouble I tookwith that chills manners shes no more notion how to behave herself thana pig. Youll have to wear General Sandstones uniform: its the ony one inthe place, because he wont lend it to the shows. 

MITCHENER. But Sandstones clothes wont fit me. 

MRS. FARRELL (unmoved). Then youll have to fit THEM. Why shouldnt theyfitcha as well as they fitted General Blake at the Mansion House?

MITCHENER. They didnt fit him. He looked a frightful guy. 

MRS. FARRELL. Well, you must do the best you can with them. You cantexhibit your clothes and wear them too. 

MITCHENER. And the public thinks the lot of a commanding officer a happyone! Oh, if they could only see the seamy side of it. (He returns to histable to resume work. )

MRS. FARRELL. If they could only see the seamy side of GeneralSandstones 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 swearsat 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 excuseda little strong language. 

MRS. FARRELL. Would you put up with bad language from me because Iverisked my life eight times in childbed?

MITCHENER. My dear Mrs. Farrell, you surely would not compare a risk ofthat harmless domestic kind to the fearful risks of the battlefield?

MRS. FARRELL. I wouldnt compare risks run to bear living people into theworld to risks run to blow them out of it. A mother's risk is jooty: asoldier's nothin but divilmint. 

MITCHENER (nettled). Let me tell you, Mrs. Farrell, that if the men didnot fight, the women would have to fight themselves. We spare you that, at all events. 

MRS. FARRELL. You cant help yourselves. If three-quarters of you waskilled we could replace you with the help of the other quarter. Ifthree-quarters of us was killed, how many people would there be inEngland in another generation? If it wasnt for that, the man d put thefightin on us just as they put all the other dhrudgery. What would YOUdo if we was all kilt? Would you go to bed and have twins?

MITCHENER. Really, Mrs. Farrell, you must discuss these questions with amedical man. You make me blush, positively. 

MRS. FARRELL. A good job too. If I could have made Farrell blush Iwouldnt have had to risk me life too often. You n your risks n yourbravery n your selfcontrol indeed! "Why don't you conthrol yourself?" Isez to Farrell. "Its agen me religion, " he sez. 

MITCHENER (plaintively). Mrs. Farrell, youre a woman of very powerfulmind. Im not qualified to argue these delicate matters with you. I askyou 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 wish to see you, sir. Mr. Balsquith told me to tell you. 

MRS. FARRELL. Theyve come about the vote. I dont know whether its themthat want it or them that doesnt want it: anyhow, they're all alikewhen they get into a state about it. (She goes out, having gatheredBalsquith's suffraget disguise from the desk. )

MITCHENER. Is Mr. Balsquith not with them?

THE ORDERLY. No, Sir. Couldnt stand Mrs. Banger, I expect. Fair cautionshe is. (He chuckles. ) Couldnt help larfin when I sor im op it. 

MITCHENER. How dare you indulge in this unseemly mirth in the presenceof your commanding officer? Have you no sense of a soldier's duty?

THE ORDERLY (sadly). Im afraid I shant ever get the ang of it, sir. Yousee 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 tellyou, when I drew the number in the conscription it gave my old motherthe needle and it gev me the ump. I should take it very kind, sir, ifyoud let me off the drill and let me shave you instead. Youd appreciatemy qualities then: you would indeed sir. I shant never do myself justiceat soljering, sir: I cant bring myself to think of it as proper workfor a man with an active mind, as you might say, sir. Arf of its onlyousemaidin; and the other arf is dress-up and make-believe. 

MITCHENER. Stuff, Sir. Its the easiest life in the world. Once youlearn your drill all you have to do is to hold your tongue and obey yourorders. 

THE ORDERLY. But I do assure you, sir, arf the time they're the wrongorders; and I get into trouble when I obey them. The sergeants orders isall right; but the officers dont know what theyre talkin about. Why theorses knows better sometimes. "Fours" says Lieutenant Trevor at thegate of Bucknam Palace only this morning when we was on duty for a Statevisit 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 mestraight. Threes, you bally fool, he whispers. And he was on to me againabout it when we came back, and called me a fathead, he did. What am Ito do, I says: the lieutenant's orders was fours, I says. Ill show youwhos lieutenant here, e says. In future you attend to my orders and notto 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 toobey orders, I says. Is Mitchener your sergeant or am I, e says in hisbullyin way. You are, I says. Well, he says, youve got to do what yoursergeant tells you: thats discipline, he says. What am I to do for theGeneral I says. Youre to let im talk, e says: thats what es for. 

MITCHENER (groaning). It is impossible for the human mind to conceiveanything more dreadful than this. Youre a disgrace to the service. 

THE ORDERLY (deeply wounded). The service is a disgrace to me. When mymother's people pass me in the street with this uniform on, I ardly knowwhich way to look. There never was a soldier in my family before. 

MITCHENER. There never was anything else in mine, sir. 

THE ORDERLY. My mother's second cousin was one of the Parkinsons ofStepney. (Almost in tears. ) What do you know of the feelings of arespectable family in the middle station of life? I cant bear to belooked down on as a common soldier. Why cant my father be let buymy discharge? Youve done away with the soldier's right to have hisdischarge bought for him by his relations. The country didnt know youwere going to do that or it would never have stood it. Is an Englishmanto be made a mockery like this?

MITCHENER. Silence. Attention. Right about face. March. 

THE ORDERLY (retiring to the standing desk and bedewing it withpassionate tears). Oh that I should have lived to be spoke to as if Iwas the lowest of the low. Me! that has shaved a City of London aldermenwiv me own hand. 

MITCHENER. Poltroon. Crybaby. Well, better disgrace yourself here thandisgrace your country on the field of battle. 

THE ORDERLY (angrily coming to the table). Whos going to disgracehis country on the field of battle? Its not fightin I object to: itssoljerin. Show me a German and Ill have a go at him as fast as you orany man. But to ave me time wasted like this, an be stuck in a sentrybox 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 aintpluck: that aint fightin: that aint patriotism: its bein made a bloominsheep of. 

MITCHENER. A sheep has many valuable military qualities. Emulate them:dont disparage them. 

THE ORDERLY. Oh, wots the good of talkin to you? If I wasnt a poorsoldier I could punch your head for forty shillins for a month. Butbecause youre my commanding officer you deprive me of my right to amagistrate and make a compliment of giving me two years ard sted ofshootin me. Why cant you take your chance the same as any civilian does?

MITCHENER (rising majestically). I search the pages of history in vainfor a parallel to such a speech made by a Private to a general. But forthe 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 doorsthe place'll be full of Suffragets 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. Thats nothing to you. You have your orders: obey them. Do youhear? Right about face. March. 

THE ORDERLY. How would you feel yourself if you was told toright-about-face and march as if you was a doormat?

MITCHENER. I should feel as if my country had spoken through the voiceof my officer. I should feel proud and honored to be able to servemy country by obeying its commands. No thought of self--no vulgarpreoccupation with my own petty vanity could touch my mind at such amoment. To me my officer would not be a mere man: he would be for themoment--whatever his personal frailties--the incarnation of our nationaldestiny. 

THE ORDERLY. What Im saying to you is the voice of old England a jollysight more than all this rot that you get out of books. Id rather bespoke to by a sergeant than by you. He tells me to go to hell whenI challenges him to argue it out like a man. It aint polite; but itsEnglish. 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; andserve me right. And look here. Heres 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 andgreat physical strength. Lady Corinthia, who is also over thirty, isbeautiful and romantic. 

MRS. BANGER (throwing the door open decisively and marching straight toMichener). Pray how much longer is the Anti-Suffrage League to be keptwaiting? (She passes him contemptuously and sits down with impressiveconfidence in the chair next the fireplace. Lady Corinthia takes thechair on the opposite side of the table with equal aplomb. )

MITCHENER. Im extremely sorry. You really do not know what I have to putwith. This imbecile, incompetent, unsoldierly disgrace to the uniformhe should never have been allowed to put on, ought to have shown you infifteen minutes ago. 

THE ORDERLY. All I said was--

MITCHENER. Not another word. Attention. Right about face. March. (TheOrderly sits down doggedly. ) Get out of the room this instant, you fool, or Ill kick you out. 

THE ORDERLY (civilly). I dont mind that, sir. Its human. Its English. Why couldnt you have said it before? (He goes out). 

MITCHENER. Take no notice I beg: these scenes are of daily occurrencenow that we have compulsory service under the command of the halfpennypapers. Pray sit down. 

LADY CORINTHIA AND MRS. BANGER (rising). Thank you. (They sit downagain. )

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-Suffraget League. This isLady Corinthia Fanshawe, the president of the League, known in musicalcircles--I am not myself musical--as the Richmond Park nightingale. Asoprano. I am myself said to be almost a baritone; but I do not professto understand these dis-tinctions. 

MITCHENER (murmuring politely). Most happy, Im sure. 

MRS. BANGER. We have come to tell you plainly that the Anti-Suffragetsare 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 thedetermination which are needed to combat women like the Suffragets. 

LADY CORINTHIA. Nature is too strong for the combatants. 

MRS. BANGER. Physical struggles between persons of opposite sexes areunseemly. 

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 theantagonists are of the same sex. 

LADY CORINTHIA. The Anti-Suffragets have resolved to take the field. 

MRS. BANGER. They will enforce the order of General Sandstone for theremoval of all women from the two mile radius--that is, all women exceptthemselves. 

MITCHENER. I am sorry to have to inform you, Madam, that the Governmenthas given up that project, and that General Sandstone has resigned inconsequence. 

MRS. BANGER. That does not concern us in the least. We approve of theproject and will see that it is carried out. We have spent a good dealof money arming ourselves; and we are not going to have that moneythrown away through the pusillanimity of a Cabinet of males. 

MITCHENER. Arming yourselves! But, my dear ladies, under the latestproclamation 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 athis nose). You little know your countrywomen, General Mitchener. 

MITCHENER (without flinching). Madam: it is my duty to take possessionof that weapon in accordance with the proclamation. Be good enough toput it down. 

MRS. BANGER (producing an XVIII century horse pistol). Is it your dutyto take possession of this also?

MITCHENER. That, madam, is not a weapon; it is a curiosity. If you wouldbe kind enough to place it in some museum instead of pointing it at myhead, I should be obliged to you. 

MRS. BANGER. This pistol, sir, was carried at Waterloo by mygrandmother. 

MITCHENER. I presume you mean your grandfather. 

MRS. BANGER. You presume unwarrantably. 

LADY CORINTHIA. Mrs. Banger's grandmother commanded a canteen at thatcelebrated battle. 

MRS. BANGER. Who my grandfather was is a point that has never been quiteclearly settled. I put my trust not in my ancestors, but in my goodsword, which is at my lodgings. 

MITCHENER. Your sword!

MRS. BANGER. The sword with which I slew five Egyptians with my own handat 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 gentlemanranker--whom they called Fanny. They never called ME Fanny. 

LADY CORINTHIA. The suffragets have turned the whole woman movement onto 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 awell-mounted regiment of women with sabres, opposed to a regiment of menwith votes. We shall see which will go down before the other. (rises)No: we have had enough of these gentle pretty creatures who merely talkand cross-examine ministers in police courts, and go to prison likesheep, and suffer and sacrifice themselves. This question must be solvedby blood and iron, as was well said by Bismarck, whom I have reason tobelieve was a woman in disguise. 

MITCHENER. Bismarck a woman?

MRS. BANGER. All the really strong men of history have been disguisedwomen. 

MITCHENER (remonstrating). My dear lady!

MRS. BANGER. How can you tell? You never knew that the hero of thecharge at Kassassin was a woman: yet she was: it was I, Rosa CarminaBanger. Would Napoleon have been so brutal to women, think you, had hebeen a man?

MITCHENER. Oh, come, come! Really! Surely female rulers have often shownall the feminine weaknesses. Queen Elizabeth, for instance. Her vanity, her levity. 

MRS. BANGER. Nobody who has studied the history of Queen Elizabeth candoubt for a moment that she was a disguised man. 

LADY CORINTHIA (admiring Mrs. Banger). Isnt she splendid?

MRS. BANGER (rising with a large gesture). This very afternoon I shallcast off this hampering skirt for ever; mount my charger; and with mygood sabre lead the Anti-Suffragets to victory. (She strides to theother side of the room, snorting. )

MITCHENER. But I cant allow anything of the sort, madam. I shall standno such ridiculous nonsense. Im perfectly determined to put my footdown. 

LADY CORINTHIA. Dont be hysterical, General. 

MITCHENER. Hysterical!

MRS. BANGER. Do you think we are to be stopped by these childishexhibitions of temper. They are useless; and your tears andentreaties--a man's last resource--will avail you just as little. I sweep them away, just as I sweep your plans of campaign "made inGermany--"

MITCHENER (flying into a transport of rage). How dare you repeatthat infamous slander? (He rings the bell violently. ) If this is thealternative to votes for women, I shall advocate giving every woman inthe 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 gotsuch 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 youif you stir, General. 

MRS. BANGER (To the Orderly). When you are ordered to put a person outyou should do it like this. (She hurls him from the room. He is heardfalling headlong downstairs and crashing through a glass door. ) I shallnow wait on General Sandstone. If he shows any sign of weakness, heshall share that poor wretch's fate. (She goes out. )

LADY CORINTHIA. Isnt she magnificent?

MITCHENER. Thank heaven shes gone. And now, my dear lady, is itnecessary to keep that loaded pistol to my nose all through ourconversation?

LADY CORINTHIA. Its not loaded. Its heavy enough, goodness knows, without putting bullets in it. 

MITCHENER (triumphantly snatching his revolver from the drawer). Then Iam 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. Irecognize there the practical good sense that has prevented you fromfalling into the snares of the Suffragets. 

LADY CORINTHIA. The Suffragets, General, are the dupes of dowdies. Areally attractive and clever woman--

MITCHENER (gallantly). Yourself, for instance. 

LADY CORINTHIA (snatching up his revolver). Another step and you are adead man. 

MITCHENER (amazed). My dear lady!

LADY CORINTHIA. I am not your dear lady. You are not the first man whohas concluded that because I am devoted to music and can reach F flatwith the greatest facility--Patti never got above E flat--I am markedout as the prey of every libertine. You think I am like the thousands ofweak women whom you have ruined--

MITCHENER. I solemnly protest--

LADY CORINTHIA. Oh, I know what you officers are. To you a woman's honoris nothing, and the idle pleasure of the moment is everything. 

MITCHENER. This is perfectly ridiculous. I never ruined anyone in mylife. 

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 haveno temperament; you are not an artist. You have no soul for music. 

MITCHENER. Ive subscribed to the regimental band all my life. I boughttwo sarrusophones for it out of my own pocket. When I sang Tosti'sGoodbye for Ever at Knightsbridge in 1880, the whole regiment wept. Youare too young to remember that. 

LADY CORINTHIA. Your advances are useless. I--

MITCHENER. Confound it, madam, can you not receive an innocentcompliment without suspecting me of dishonorable intentions?

LADY CORINTHIA. Love--real love--makes all intentions honorable. But YOUcould never understand that. 

MITCHENER. Ill not submit to the vulgar penny-novelette notion that anofficer is less honorable than a civilian in his relations with women. While I live Ill raise my voice--

LADY CORINTHIA. Tush!

MITCHENER. What do you mean by tush?

LADY CORINTHIA. You cant 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 livingsoprano. (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 notbelieve me, I find you are more interesting when you talk about musicthan when you are endeavoring to betray a woman who has trusted you byremaining alone with you in your apartment. 

MITCHENER (springing up and fuming away to the fireplace). Theserepeated insults to a man of blameless life are as disgraceful to youas they are undeserved by me, Lady Corinthia. Such suspicions invite theconduct they impute. (She raises the pistol. ) You need not be alarmed: Iam 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 withoutromance?

MITCHENER (making a movement toward her). I tell you--

LADY CORINTHIA. Stop. No nearer. No vulgar sensuousness. If you mustadore, adore at a distance. 

MITCHENER. This is worse than Mrs. Banger. I shall ask that estimablewoman to come back. 

LADY CORINTHIA. Poor Mrs. Banger! Do not for a moment suppose, GeneralMitchener, that Mrs. Banger represents my views on the suffragequestion. 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) theyare unwomanly. 

MITCHENER (throwing himself despairingly into the chair next thehearthrug). I shall go mad. I never for a moment dreamt of alluding toanything of the sort. 

LADY CORINTHIA. There is no need to blush and become self-conscious atthe mention of underclothing. You are extremely vulgar, General. 

MITCHENER. Lady Corinthia: you have my pistol. Will you have thegoodness to blow my brains out. I should prefer it to any further effortto 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 ofme--not if we sit here until doomsday. 

LADY CORINTHIA. I dont want you to talk. I want you to listen. You donot yet understand my views on the question of the Suffrage. (She risesto make a speech. ) I must preface my remarks by reminding you that theSuffraget movement is essentially a dowdy movement. The suffragets arenot all dowdies; but they are mainly supported by dowdies. Now I am nota dowdy. Oh, no compliments--

MITCHENER. I did not utter a sound. 

LADY CORINTHIA (smiling). It is easy to read your thoughts. I am oneof those women who are accustomed to rule the world through men. Man isruled by beauty, by charm. The men who are not have no influence. TheSalic Law, which forbade women to occupy a throne, is founded on thefact that when a woman is on the throne the country is ruled by men, andtherefore ruled badly; whereas when a man is on the throne, the countryis ruled by women, and therefore ruled well. The suffragets woulddegrade women from being rulers to being voters, mere politicians, the drudges of the caucus and the polling booth. We should lose ourinfluence completely under such a state of affairs. The New Zealandwomen have the vote. What is the result? No poet ever makes a NewZealand woman his heroine. One might as well be romantic about NewZealand mutton. Look at the suffragets themselves. The only ones who arepopular are the pretty ones, who flirt with mobs as ordinary women flirtwith officers. 

MITCHENER. Then I understand you to hold that the country should begoverned by the women after all. 

LADY CORINTHIA. Not by all the women. By certain women. I had almostsaid by one woman. By the women who have charm--who have artistictalent--who wield a legitimate, a refining influence over the men. (She sits down gracefully, smiling, and arranging her draperies withconscious elegance. )

MITCHENER. In short, madam, you think that if you give the vote to theman, 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 Isuppose that is how you would express what I mean. 

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 atgetting 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 theother women didnt keep her in pretty strict order. I dont approve ofdemocracy, because its rot; and Im against giving the vote to womenbecause Im not accustomed to it and therefore am able to see with anunprejudiced eye what infernal nonsense it is. But I tell you plainly, Lady Corinthia, that there is one game that I dislike more than eitherDemocracy or Votes For Women: and that is the game of Antony andCleopatra. If I must be ruled by women, let me have decent women andnot--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 toyou!

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 unsexedcreatures 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 atdiscussing public questions, because, as an English gentleman, I was notbrought up to use my brains. But occasionally, after a number of remarkswhich are perhaps sometimes rather idiotic, I get certain convictions. Thanks to you, I have now got a conviction that this woman question isnot a question of lovely and accomplished females, but of dowdies. Theaverage Englishwoman is a dowdy and never has half a chance of becominganything else. She hasnt any charm; and she has no high notes exceptwhen shes giving her husband a piece of her mind, or calling down thestreet for one of the children. 

LADY CORINTHIA. How disgusting!

MITCHENER. Somebody must do the dowdy work! If we had to choose betweenpitching all the dowdies into the Thames and pitching all the lovely andaccomplished women, the lovely ones would have to go. 

LADY CORINTHIA. And if you had to do without Wagner's music or dowithout your breakfast, you would do without Wagner. Pray does that makeeggs and bacon more precious than music, or the butcher and baker betterthan the poet and philosopher? The scullery may be more necessary to ourbare existence than the cathedral. Even humbler apartments might makethe same claim. But which is the more essential to the higher life?

MITCHENER. Your arguments are so devilishly ingenious that I feelconvinced you got them out of some confounded book. Mine--such as theyare--are my own. I imagine its something like this. There is an oldsaying that if you take care of the pence, the pounds will take careof themselves. Well, perhaps if we take care of the dowdies and thebutchers and the bakers, the beauties and the bigwigs will take care ofthemselves. (Rising and facing her determinedly. ) Anyhow, I dont want tohave things arranged for me by Wagner. Im not Wagner. How does he knowwhere the shoe pinches me? How do you know where the shoe pinches yourwasherwoman?--you and your high F in alt. How are you to know when youhavent made her comfortable unless she has a vote? Do you want her tocome and break your windows?

LADY CORINTHIA. Am I to understand that General Mitchener is a democratand a suffraget?

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 anofficer 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 Liberaland Unionist Free Traders declare that if they are defeated on theirresolution to invite tenders from private contractors for carrying onthe Army and Navy, they will go solid for votes for women as the onlymeans of restoring the liberties of the country which we have destroyedby compulsory military service. 

MITCHENER. Infernal impudence?

BALSQUITH. The Labor party is taking the same line. They say the men gotthe Factory Acts by hiding behind the women's petticoats, and that theywill get votes for the army in the same way. 

MITCHENER. Balsquith: we must not yield to clamor. I have just told thislady that I am at last convinced--

BALSQUITH (joyfully). That the suffragets must be supported. 

MITCHENER. No: that the anti-suffragets must be put down at all hazards. 

BALSQUITH. Same thing. 

MITCHENER. No. For you now tell me that the Labor Party demands votesfor women. That makes it impossible to give them, because it would beyielding to clamor. The one condition on which we can consent to grantanything in this country is that nobody shall presume to want it. 

BALSQUITH (earnestly). Mitchener: its no use. You cant have theconveniences of Democracy without its occasional inconveniences. 

MITCHENER. What are its conveniences, I should like to know?

BALSQUITH. When you tell people that they are the real rulers and theycan do what they like, nine times out of ten, they say, "All right, tellus what to do. " But it happens sometimes that they get an idea of theirown; and then of course youre landed. 

MITCHENER. Sh--

BALSQUITH (desperately shouting him down). No: its no use telling me toshoot them down: Im not going to do it. After all, I dont suppose votesfor women will make much difference. It hasnt in the other countries inwhich it has been tried. 

MITCHENER. I never supposed it would make much difference. What I cantstand is giving in to that Pankhurst lot. Hang it all, Balsquith, itseems only yesterday that we put them in quod for a month. I said at thetime that it ought to have been ten years. If my advice had been takenthis wouldnt have happened. Its a consolation to me that events areproving how thoroughly right I was. 

The Orderly rushes in. 

THE ORDERLY. Look ere, sir: Mrs. Banger locked the door of GeneralSandstone's room on the inside; and shes sitting on his ead until hesigns a proclamation for women to serve in the army. 

MITCHENER. Put your shoulder to the door and burst it open. 

THE ORDERLY. Its only in story books that doors burst open as easy asthat. Besides, Im only too thankful to have a locked door between me andMrs. 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 theSergeant at Arms rather than of the leader of the House. Theres no usein 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 andgive the army civil rights; and av done with it. 

Mitchener returns. 

MITCHENER. Balsquith: prepare to hear the worst. 

BALSQUITH. Sandstone is no more?

MITCHENER. On the contrary, he is particularly lively. He has softenedMrs. Banger by a proposal of marriage in which he appears to beperfectly in earnest. He says he has met his ideal at last, a reallysoldierly woman. She will sit on his head for the rest of his life; andthe 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 hadntbeen a woman I should have punched her head. I precious nearly punchedSandstone's. The horrors of martial law administered by Mrs. Banger aretoo 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! (Returning, and again addressing the Orderly. ) Civil rightsdon't mean the right to be uncivil. (Pleased with his own wit. ) Almost apun. Ha ha!

MRS. FARRELL. Whats 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 didnt ask to--(Mitchener seizeshim by the nape; rushes him out; and slams the door). 

MITCHENER. Excuse the abruptness of this communication, Mrs. Farrell;but I know only one woman in the country whose practical ability andforce of character can maintain her husband in competition with thehusband of Mrs. Banger. I have the honor to propose for your hand. 

MRS. FARRELL. Dye mean you want to marry me?

MITCHENER. I do. 

MRS. FARRELL. No thank you. Id have to work for you just the same; onlyI shouldnt get any wages for it. 

BALSQUITH. That will be remedied when women get the vote. Ive had topromise that. 

MITCHENER (winningly). Mrs. Farrell: you have been charwoman here nowever since I took up my duties. Have you really never, in your moreromantic moments, cast a favorable eye on my person?

MRS. FARRELL. Ive been too busy casting an unfavorable eye on your clozeand 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 upthe telephone. ) Double three oh seven Elephant. 

MITCHENER. I trust youre not ringing for the police, Mrs. Farrell. Iassure you Im perfectly sane. 

MRS. FARRELL (into the telephone). Is that you, Eliza? (She listens forthe 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 veryparticularly about General Mitchener. (To Mitchener. ) Dont you beafeard: I know youre sane enough when youre not talkin about theGermans. (Into the telephone. ) Is that you, Eliza? (She listens for theanswer. ) Dye remember me givin you a clout on the side of the head fortellin me that if I only knew how to play me cards I could marry anygeneral on the staff instead o disgracin you be bein a charwoman? (Shelistens for the answer. ) Well, I can have General Mitchener withoutplaying any cards at all. What dye think I ought to say? (She listens. )Well, Im no chicken myself. (To Mitchener. ) How old are you?

MITCHENER (with an effort). Fifty-two. 

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. 

MITCHENER. Damn Who's Who. 

MRS. FARRELL (into the telephone). Anyhow I wouldnt let that stand inthe 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 wordto-- Eh? (She listens. ) Oh, LOVE him. Arra dont be a fool, child. (ToMitchener. ) 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 myage. What? (She listens. ) Well, thats just what I was thinkin. 

MITCHENER. May I ask what you were thinking, Mrs. Farrell? This suspenseis awful. 

MRS. FARRELL. I was thinkin that perhaps the Duchess might like herdaughter-in-law's mother to be a General's lady betther than to be acharwoman. (Into the telephone. ) Waitle youre married yourself, me finelady: you'll find out that every woman is a charwoman from the day shesmarried. (She listens. ) Then you think I might take him? (She listens. )Glang, you young scald: if I had you here Id teach you manners. (Shelistens. ) Thats enough now. Back wid you to bed; and be thankful Im notthere to put me slipper across you. (She rings off. ) The impudence!(To Mitchener. ) Bless you, me childher, may you be happy, she says. (ToBalsquith, going to his side of the room. ) Give dear, old Mich 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 aredefeated. She is engaged to General Sandstone. Do you still prefer herto me?

MRS. FARRELL. Hes out o the hunt. Hes engaged to me. 

The Orderly overcome by this news reels from the door to the standingdesk, 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 toBalsquith. ) Mr. Balsquith: you at least, are not a Philistine. 

BALSQUITH. No, Lady Corinthia; but Im a confirmed bachelor. I don't wanta wife; but I want an Egeria. 

MRS. FARRELL. More shame for you. 

LADY CORINTHIA. Silence, woman. The position and functions of a wife maysuit your gross nature. An Egeria is exactly what I desire to be. (ToBalsquith. ) Can you play accompaniments?

BALSQUITH. Melodies only, I regret to say. With one finger. But mybrother, who is a very obliging fellow, and not unlike me personally, isacquainted with three chords, with which he manages to accompany most ofthe comic songs of the day. 

LADY CORINTHIA. I do not sing comic songs. Neither will you when I amyour Egeria. Come. I give a musical at-home this afternoon. I will allowyou to sit at my feet. 

BALSQUITH. That is my ideal of romantic happiness. It commits me exactlyas far as I desire to venture. Thank you. 

THE ORDERLY. Wot price me, General? Wont you celebrate your engagementby doing something for me? Maynt I be promoted to be a sergeant. 

MITCHENER. Youre too utterly incompetent to discharge the duties of asergeant. You are only fit to be a lieutenant. I shall recommend you fora commission. 

THE ORDERLY. Hooray! The Parkinsons of Stepney will be proud to haveme call on them now. Ill 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 havethe manners to shut the door idther you. (She shuts it and comes betweenMitchener and Lady Corinthia. )

MITCHENER. Poor wretch; the day after civil rights are conceded to thearmy he and Chubbs-Jenkinson will be found incapable of maintainingdiscipline. 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 inevery way, I am quite willing to kiss you if you wish it. 

MRS. FARRELL. Youd only feel like a fool; and so would I. 

MITCHENER. You are really the most sensible woman. Ive made an extremelywise choice. 

LADY CORINTHIA (To Balsquith). You may kiss my hand, if you wish. 

BALSQUITH (cautiously). I think we had better not commit ourselves toofar. If I might carry your parasol, that would quite satisfy me. Let uschange a subject which threatens to become embarrassing. (To Mitchener. )The moral of the occasion for you, Mitchener, appears to be that youvegot to give up treating soldiers as if they were schoolboys. 

MITCHENER. The moral for you, Balsquith, is that youve got to give uptreating women as if they were angels. Ha ha!

MRS. FARRELL. Its a mercy youve found one another out at last. That'senough now. 

CURTAIN