Short Plays · Press Cuttings (2/2) (2/2) (1/5)
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?