Collected Works. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
Quite right, too. And was there no Englishman to take his place?
THE CLERK. There was. But he was caught spying; and they took him up to London and shot him.
AUGUSTUS. Shot an Englishman!
THE CLERK. Well, it stands to reason if the Germans wanted to spy they wouldn't employ a German that everybody would suspect, don't it?
AUGUSTUS [rising again]. Do you mean to say, you scoundrel, that an Englishman is capable of selling his country to the enemy for gold?
THE CLERK. Not as a general thing I wouldn't say it; but there's men here would sell their own mothers for two coppers if they got the chance.
AUGUSTUS. Beamish, it's an ill bird that fouls its own nest.
THE CLERK. It wasn't me that let Little Pifflington get foul. I don't belong to the governing classes. I only tell you why you can't have no rolls.
AUGUSTUS [intensely irritated]. Can you tell me where I can find an intelligent being to take my orders?
THE CLERK. One of the street sweepers used to teach in the school until it was shut up for the sake of economy. Will he do?
AUGUSTUS. What! You mean to tell me that when the lives of the gallant fellows in our trenches, and the fate of the British Empire, depend on our keeping up the supply of shells, you are wasting money on sweeping the streets?
THE CLERK. We have to. We dropped it for a while; but the infant death rate went up something frightful.
AUGUSTUS. What matters the death rate of Little Pifflington in a moment like this? Think of our gallant soldiers, not of your squalling infants.
THE CLERK. If you want soldiers you must have children. You can't buy em in boxes, like toy soldiers.
AUGUSTUS. Beamish, the long and the short of it is, you are no patriot. Go downstairs to your office; and have that gas stove taken away and replaced by an ordinary grate. The Board of Trade has urged on me the necessity for economizing gas.
THE CLERK. Our orders from the Minister of Munitions is to use gas instead of coal, because it saves material. Which is it to be?
AUGUSTUS [bawling furiously at him]. Both! Don't criticize your orders: obey them. Yours not to reason why: yours but to do and die. That's war. [Cooling down.] Have you anything else to say?
THE CLERK. Yes: I want a rise.
AUGUSTUS [reeling against the table in his horror]. A rise! Horatio Floyd Beamish, do you know that we are at war?
THE CLERK [feebly ironical]. I have noticed something about it in the papers. Heard you mention it once or twice, now I come to think of it.
AUGUSTUS. Our gallant fellows are dying in the trenches; and you want a rise!
THE CLERK. What are they dying for? To keep me alive, ain't it? Well, what's the good of that if I'm dead of hunger by the time they come back?
AUGUSTUS. Everybody else is making sacrifices without a thought of self; and you—
THE CLERK. Not half, they ain't. Where's the baker's sacrifice? Where's the coal merchant's? Where's the butcher's? Charging me double: that's how they sacrifice themselves. Well, I want to sacrifice myself that way too. Just double next Saturday: double and not a penny less; or no secretary for you [he stiffens himself shakily, and makes resolutely for the door.]
AUGUSTUS [looking after him contemptuously]. Go, miserable pro-German.
THE CLERK [rushing back and facing him]. Who are you calling a pro-German?
AUGUSTUS. Another word, and I charge you under the Act with discouraging me. Go.
The clerk blenches and goes out, cowed.
The telephone rings.
AUGUSTUS [taking up the telephone receiver.] Hallo. Yes: who are you?... oh, Blueloo, is it?... Yes: there's nobody in the room: fire away. What?... A spy!... A woman!... Yes: brought it down with me. Do you suppose I'm such a fool as to let it out of my hands? Why, it gives a list of all our anti-aircraft emplacements from Ramsgate to Skegness. The Germans would give a million for it—what?... But how could she possibly know about it? I haven't mentioned it to a soul, except, of course, dear Lucy... Oh, Toto and Lady Popham and that lot: they don't count: they're all right. I mean that I haven't mentioned it to any Germans.... Pooh! Don't you be nervous, old chap. I know you think me a fool; but I'm not such a fool as all that. If she tries to get it out of me I'll have her in the Tower before you ring up again. [The clerk returns.] Sh-sh! Somebody's just come in: ring off. Goodbye. [He hangs up the receiver.]
THE CLERK. Are you engaged? [His manner is strangely softened.]
AUGUSTUS. What business is that of yours? However, if you will take the trouble to read the society papers for this week, you will see that I am engaged to the Honorable Lucy Popham, youngest daughter of—
THE CLERK. That ain't what I mean. Can you see a female?
AUGUSTUS. Of course I can see a female as easily as a male. Do you suppose I'm blind?
THE CLERK. You don't seem to follow me, somehow. There's a female downstairs: what you might call a lady. She wants to know can you see her if I let her up.
AUGUSTUS. Oh, you mean am I disengaged. Tell the lady I have just received news of the greatest importance which will occupy my entire attention for the rest of the day, and that she must write for an appointment.
THE CLERK. I'll ask her to explain her business to me. I ain't above talking to a handsome young female when I get the chance [going].
AUGUSTUS. Stop. Does she seem to be a person of consequence?
THE CLERK. A regular marchioness, if you ask me.
AUGUSTUS. Hm! Beautiful, did you say?
THE CLERK. A human chrysanthemum, sir, believe me.
AUGUSTUS. It will be extremely inconvenient for me to see her; but the country is in danger; and we must not consider our own comfort. Think how our gallant fellows are suffering in the trenches! Show her up. [The clerk makes for the door, whistling the latest popular ballad]. Stop whistling instantly, sir. This is not a casino.
CLERK. Ain't it? You just wait till you see her. [He goes out.]
Augustus produces a mirror, a comb, and a pot of moustache pomade from the drawer of the writing-table, and sits down before the mirror to put some touches to his toilet.
The clerk returns, devotedly ushering a very attractive lady, brilliantly dressed. She has a dainty wallet hanging from her wrist. Augustus hastily covers up his toilet apparatus with The Morning Post, and rises in an attitude of pompous condescension.
THE CLERK [to Augustus]. Here she is. [To the lady.] May I offer you a chair, lady? [He places a chair at the writing-table opposite Augustus, and steals out on tiptoe.]
AUGUSTUS. Be seated, madam.
THE LADY [sitting down]. Are you Lord Augustus Highcastle?
AUGUSTUS [sitting also]. Madam, I am.
TAE LADY [with awe]. The great Lord Augustus?
AUGUSTUS. I should not dream of describing myself so, Madam; but no doubt I have impressed my countrymen—and [bowing gallantly] may I say my countrywomen—as having some exceptional claims to their consideration.
THE LADY [emotionally]. What a beautiful voice you have!
AUGUSTUS. What you hear, madam, is the voice of my country, which now takes a sweet and noble tone even in the harsh mouth of high officialism.
THE LADY. Please go on. You express yourself so wonderfully!
AUGUSTUS. It would be strange indeed if, after sitting on thirty-seven Royal Commissions, mostly as chairman, I had not mastered the art of public expression. Even the Radical papers have paid me the high compliment of declaring that I am never more impressive than when I have nothing to say.
THE