Short Plays · Press Cuttings (2/2) (2/2) (3/5)

| 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. |