Books: MAJOR BARBARA
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GEORGE BERNARD SHAW >> MAJOR BARBARA
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BILL. Rotten drunken whisky it is too.
MRS BAINES. Dear Barbara: Lord Saxmundham has a soul to be saved
like any of us. If heaven has found the way to make a good use of
his money, are we to set ourselves up against the answer to our
prayers?
BARBARA. I know he has a soul to be saved. Let him come down
here; and I'll do my best to help him to his salvation. But he
wants to send his cheque down to buy us, and go on being as
wicked as ever.
UNDERSHAFT [with a reasonableness which Cusins alone perceives to
be ironical] My dear Barbara: alcohol is a very necessary
article. It heals the sick--
BARBARA. It does nothing of the sort.
UNDERSHAFT. Well, it assists the doctor: that is perhaps a less
questionable way of putting it. It makes life bearable to
millions of people who could not endure their existence if they
were quite sober. It enables Parliament to do things at eleven at
night that no sane person would do at eleven in the morning. Is
it Bodger's fault that this inestimable gift is deplorably abused
by less than one per cent of the poor? [He turns again to the
table; signs the cheque; and crosses it].
MRS BAINES. Barbara: will there be less drinking or more if all
those poor souls we are saving come to-morrow and find the doors
of our shelters shut in their faces? Lord Saxmundham gives us the
money to stop drinking--to take his own business from him.
CUSINS [impishly] Pure self-sacrifice on Bodger's part, clearly!
Bless dear Bodger! [Barbara almost breaks down as Adolpbus, too,
fails her].
UNDERSHAFT [tearing out the cheque and pocketing the book as he
rises and goes past Cusins to Mrs Baines] I also, Mrs Baines, may
claim a little disinterestedness. Think of my business! think of
the widows and orphans! the men and lads torn to pieces with
shrapnel and poisoned with lyddite [Mrs Baines shrinks; but he
goes on remorselessly]! the oceans of blood, not one drop of
which is shed in a really just cause! the ravaged crops! the
peaceful peasants forced, women and men, to till their fields
under the fire of opposing armies on pain of starvation! the bad
blood of the fierce little cowards at home who egg on others to
fight for the gratification of their national vanity! All this
makes money for me: I am never richer, never busier than when the
papers are full of it. Well, it is your work to preach peace on
earth and goodwill to men. [Mrs Baines's face lights up again].
Every convert you make is a vote against war. [Her lips move in
prayer]. Yet I give you this money to help you to hasten my own
commercial ruin. [He gives her the cheque].
CUSINS [mounting the form in an ecstasy of mischief] The
millennium will be inaugurated by the unselfishness of Undershaft
and Bodger. Oh be joyful! [He takes the drumsticks from his
pockets and flourishes them].
MRS BAINES [taking the cheque] The longer I live the more proof I
see that there is an Infinite Goodness that turns everything to
the work of salvation sooner or later. Who would have thought
that any good could have come out of war and drink? And yet their
profits are brought today to the feet of salvation to do its
blessed work. [She is affected to tears].
JENNY [running to Mrs Baines and throwing her arms round her] Oh
dear! how blessed, how glorious it all is!
CUSINS [in a convulsion of irony] Let us seize this unspeakable
moment. Let us march to the great meeting at once. Excuse me just
an instant. [He rushes into the shelter. Jenny takes her
tambourine from the drum head].
MRS BAINES. Mr Undershaft: have you ever seen a thousand people
fall on their knees with one impulse and pray? Come with us to
the meeting. Barbara shall tell them that the Army is saved, and
saved through you.
CUSINS [returning impetuously from the shelter with a flag and a
trombone, and coming between Mrs Baines and Undershaft] You shall
carry the flag down the first street, Mrs Baines [he gives her
the flag]. Mr Undershaft is a gifted trombonist: he shall intone
an Olympian diapason to the West Ham Salvation March. [Aside to
Undershaft, as he forces the trombone on him] Blow, Machiavelli,
blow.
UNDERSHAFT [aside to him, as he takes the trombone] The trumpet
in Zion! [Cusins rushes to the drum, which he takes up and puts
on. Undershaft continues, aloud] I will do my best. I could vamp
a bass if I knew the tune.
CUSINS. It is a wedding chorus from one of Donizetti's operas;
but we have converted it. We convert everything to good here,
including Bodger. You remember the chorus. "For thee immense
rejoicing--immenso giubilo--immenso giubilo." [With drum
obbligato] Rum tum ti tum tum, tum tum ti ta--
BARBARA. Dolly: you are breaking my heart.
CUSINS. What is a broken heart more or less here? Dionysos
Undershaft has descended. I am possessed.
MRS BAINES. Come, Barbara: I must have my dear Major to carry the
flag with me.
JENNY. Yes, yes, Major darling.
CUSINS [snatches the tambourine out of Jenny's hand and mutely
offers it to Barbara].
BARBARA [coming forward a little as she puts the offer behind her
with a shudder, whilst Cusins recklessly tosses the tambourine
back to Jenny and goes to the gate] I can't come.
JENNY. Not come!
MRS BAINES [with tears in her eyes] Barbara: do you think
I am wrong to take the money?
BARBARA [impulsively going to her and kissing her] No, no:
God help you, dear, you must: you are saving the Army. Go; and
may you have a great meeting!
JENNY. But arn't you coming?
BARBARA. No. [She begins taking off the silver brooch from her
collar].
MRS BAINES. Barbara: what are you doing?
JENNY. Why are you taking your badge off? You can't be going to
leave us, Major.
BARBARA [quietly] Father: come here.
UNDERSHAFT [coming to her] My dear! [Seeing that she is going to
pin the badge on his collar, he retreats to the penthouse in some
alarm].
BARBARA [following him] Don't be frightened. [She pins the badge
on and steps back towards the table, showing him to the others]
There! It's not much for 5000 pounds is it?
MRS BAINES. Barbara: if you won't come and pray with us, promise
me you will pray for us.
BARBARA. I can't pray now. Perhaps I shall never pray again.
MRS BAINES. Barbara!
JENNY. Major!
BARBARA [almost delirious] I can't bear any more. Quick march!
CUSINS [calling to the procession in the street outside] Off we
go. Play up, there! Immenso giubilo. [He gives the time with his
drum; and the band strikes up the march, which rapidly becomes
more distant as the procession moves briskly away].
MRS BAINES. I must go, dear. You're overworked: you will be all
right tomorrow. We'll never lose you. Now Jenny: step out with
the old flag. Blood and Fire! [She marches out through the gate
with her flag].
JENNY. Glory Hallelujah! [flourishing her tambourine and
marching].
UNDERSHAFT [to Cusins, as he marches out past him easing the
slide of his trombone] "My ducats and my daughter"!
CUSINS [following him out] Money and gunpowder!
BARBARA. Drunkenness and Murder! My God: why hast thou forsaken
me?
She sinks on the form with her face buried in her hands. The
march passes away into silence. Bill Walker steals across to her.
BILL [taunting] Wot prawce Selvytion nah?
SHIRLEY. Don't you hit her when she's down.
BILL. She it me wen aw wiz dahn. Waw shouldn't I git a bit o me
own back?
BARBARA [raising her head] I didn't take your money, Bill. [She
crosses the yard to the gate and turns her back on the two men to
hide her face from them].
BILL [sneering after her] Naow, it warn't enough for you.
[Turning to the drum, he misses the money]. Ellow! If you ain't
took it summun else az. Were's it gorn? Blame me if Jenny Ill
didn't take it arter all!
RUMMY [screaming at him from the loft] You lie, you dirty
blackguard! Snobby Price pinched it off the drum wen e took ap iz
cap. I was ap ere all the time an see im do it.
BILL. Wot! Stowl maw money! Waw didn't you call thief on him, you
silly old mucker you?
RUMMY. To serve you aht for ittin me acrost the face. It's cost
y'pahnd, that az. [Raising a paean of squalid triumph] I done
you. I'm even with you. I've ad it aht o y--. [Bill snatches up
Shirley's mug and hurls it at her. She slams the loft door and
vanishes. The mug smashes against the door and falls in
fragments].
BILL [beginning to chuckle] Tell us, ole man, wot o'clock this
morrun was it wen im as they call Snobby Prawce was sived?
BARBARA [turning to him more composedly, and with unspoiled
sweetness] About half past twelve, Bill. And he pinched your
pound at a quarter to two. I know. Well, you can't afford to lose
it. I'll send it to you.
BILL [his voice and accent suddenly improving] Not if I was to
starve for it. I ain't to be bought.
SHIRLEY. Ain't you? You'd sell yourself to the devil for a pint o
beer; ony there ain't no devil to make the offer.
BILL [unshamed] So I would, mate, and often av, cheerful. But she
cawn't buy me. [Approaching Barbara] You wanted my soul, did you?
Well, you ain't got it.
BARBARA. I nearly got it, Bill. But we've sold it back to you for
ten thousand pounds.
SHIRLEY. And dear at the money!
BARBARA. No, Peter: it was worth more than money.
BILL [salvationproof] It's no good: you cawn't get rahnd me nah.
I don't blieve in it; and I've seen today that I was
right. [Going] So long, old soupkitchener! Ta, ta, Major Earl's
Grendorter! [Turning at the gate] Wot prawce Selvytion nah?
Snobby Prawce! Ha! ha!
BARBARA [offering her hand] Goodbye, Bill.
BILL [taken aback, half plucks his cap off then shoves it on
again defiantly] Git aht. [Barbara drops her hand, discouraged.
He has a twinge of remorse]. But thet's aw rawt, you
knaow. Nathink pasnl. Naow mellice. So long, Judy. [He
goes].
BARBARA. No malice. So long, Bill.
SHIRLEY [shaking his head] You make too much of him, miss, in
your innocence.
BARBARA [going to him] Peter: I'm like you now. Cleaned out, and
lost my job.
SHIRLEY. You've youth an hope. That's two better than me. That's
hope for you.
BARBARA. I'll get you a job, Peter, the youth will have to be
enough for me. [She counts her money]. I have just enough left
for two teas at Lockharts, a Rowton doss for you, and my tram and
bus home. [He frowns and rises with offended pride. She takes his
arm]. Don't be proud, Peter: it's sharing between friends. And
promise me you'll talk to me and not let me cry. [She draws him
towards the gate].
SHIRLEY. Well, I'm not accustomed to talk to the like of you--
BARBARA [urgently] Yes, yes: you must talk to me. Tell me about
Tom Paine's books and Bradlaugh's lectures. Come along.
SHIRLEY. Ah, if you would only read Tom Paine in the proper
spirit, miss! [They go out through the gate together].
ACT III
Next day after lunch Lady Britomart is writing in the library in
Wilton Crescent. Sarah is reading in the armchair near the
window. Barbara, in ordinary dresss, pale and brooding, is on the
settee. Charley Lomax enters. Coming forward between the settee
and the writing table, he starts on seeing Barbara fashionably
attired and in low spirits.
LOMAX. You've left off your uniform!
Barbara says nothing; but an expression of pain passes over
her face.
LADY BRITOMART [warning him in low tones to be careful] Charles!
LOMAX [much concerned, sitting down sympathetically on the settee
beside Barbara] I'm awfully sorry, Barbara. You know I helped you
all I could with the concertina and so forth. [Momentously]
Still, I have never shut my eyes to the fact that there is a
certain amount of tosh about the Salvation Army. Now the claims
of the Church of England--
LADY BRITOMART. That's enough, Charles. Speak of something suited
to your mental capacity.
LOMAX. But surely the Church of England is suited to all our
capacities.
BARBARA [pressing his hand] Thank you for your sympathy, Cholly.
Now go and spoon with Sarah.
LOMAX [rising and going to Sarah] How is my ownest today?
SARAH. I wish you wouldn't tell Cholly to do things, Barbara. He
always comes straight and does them. Cholly: we're going to the
works at Perivale St. Andrews this afternoon.
LOMAX. What works?
SARAH. The cannon works.
LOMAX. What! Your governor's shop!
SARAH. Yes.
LOMAX. Oh I say!
Cusins enters in poor condition. He also starts visibly when he
sees Barbara without her uniform.
BARBARA. I expected you this morning, Dolly. Didn't you guess
that?
CUSINS [sitting down beside her] I'm sorry. I have only just
breakfasted.
SARAH. But we've just finished lunch.
BARBARA. Have you had one of your bad nights?
CUSINS. No: I had rather a good night: in fact, one of the most
remarkable nights I have ever passed.
BARBARA. The meeting?
CUSINS. No: after the meeting.
LADY BRITOMART. You should have gone to bed after the meeting.
What were you doing?
CUSINS. Drinking.
LADY BRITOMART. {Adolphus!
SARAH. {Dolly!
BARBARA. {Dolly!
LOMAX. {Oh I say!
LADY BRITOMART. What were you drinking, may I ask?
CUSINS. A most devilish kind of Spanish burgundy, warranted free
from added alcohol: a Temperance burgundy in fact. Its richness
in natural alcohol made any addition superfluous.
BARBARA. Are you joking, Dolly?
CUSINS [patiently] No. I have been making a night of it with the
nominal head of this household: that is all.
LADY BRITOMART. Andrew made you drunk!
CUSINS. No: he only provided the wine. I think it was Dionysos
who made me drunk. [To Barbara] I told you I was possessed.
LADY BRITOMART. You're not sober yet. Go home to bed at once.
CUSINS. I have never before ventured to reproach you, Lady Brit;
but how could you marry the Prince of Darkness?
LADY BRITOMART. It was much more excusable to marry him than to
get drunk with him. That is a new accomplishment of Andrew's, by
the way. He usen't to drink.
CUSINS. He doesn't now. He only sat there and completed the wreck
of my moral basis, the rout of my convictions, the purchase of my
soul. He cares for you, Barbara. That is what makes him so
dangerous to me.
BARBARA. That has nothing to do with it, Dolly. There are larger
loves and diviner dreams than the fireside ones. You know that,
don't you?
CUSINS. Yes: that is our understanding. I know it. I hold to it.
Unless he can win me on that holier ground he may amuse me for a
while; but he can get no deeper hold, strong as he is.
BARBARA. Keep to that; and the end will be right. Now tell me
what happened at the meeting?
CUSINS. It was an amazing meeting. Mrs Baines almost died of
emotion. Jenny Hill went stark mad with hysteria. The Prince of
Darkness played his trombone like a madman: its brazen roarings
were like the laughter of the damned. 117 conversions took place
then and there. They prayed with the most touching sincerity and
gratitude for Bodger, and for the anonymous donor of the 5000
pounds. Your father would not let his name be given.
LOMAX. That was rather fine of the old man, you know. Most chaps
would have wanted the advertisement.
CUSINS. He said all the charitable institutions would be down on
him like kites on a battle field if he gave his name.
LADY BRITOMART. That's Andrew all over. He never does a proper
thing without giving an improper reason for it.
CUSINS. He convinced me that I have all my life been doing
improper things for proper reasons.
LADY BRITOMART. Adolphus: now that Barbara has left the Salvation
Army, you had better leave it too. I will not have you playing
that drum in the streets.
CUSINS. Your orders are already obeyed, Lady Brit.
BARBARA. Dolly: were you ever really in earnest about it? Would
you have joined if you had never seen me?
CUSINS [disingenuously] Well--er--well, possibly, as a collector
of religions--
LOMAX [cunningly] Not as a drummer, though, you know. You are a
very clearheaded brainy chap, Cholly; and it must have been
apparent to you that there is a certain amount of tosh about--
LADY BRITOMART. Charles: if you must drivel, drivel like a
grown-up man and not like a schoolboy.
LOMAX [out of countenance] Well, drivel is drivel, don't you
know, whatever a man's age.
LADY BRITOMART. In good society in England, Charles, men drivel
at all ages by repeating silly formulas with an air of wisdom.
Schoolboys make their own formulas out of slang, like you. When
they reach your age, and get political private secretaryships and
things of that sort, they drop slang and get their formulas out
of The Spectator or The Times. You had better confine yourself to
The Times. You will find that there is a certain amount of tosh
about The Times; but at least its language is reputable.
LOMAX [overwhelmed] You are so awfully strong-minded, Lady Brit--
LADY BRITOMART. Rubbish! [Morrison comes in]. What is it?
MORRISON. If you please, my lady, Mr Undershaft has just drove up
to the door.
LADY BRITOMART. Well, let him in. [Morrison hesitates]. What's
the matter with you?
MORRISON. Shall I announce him, my lady; or is he at home here,
so to speak, my lady?
LADY BRITOMART. Announce him.
MORRISON. Thank you, my lady. You won't mind my asking, I hope.
The occasion is in a manner of speaking new to me.
LADY BRITOMART. Quite right. Go and let him in.
MORRISON. Thank you, my lady. [He withdraws].
LADY BRITOMART. Children: go and get ready. [Sarah and Barbara go
upstairs for their out-of-door wrap]]. Charles: go and tell
Stephen to come down here in five minutes: you will find him in
the drawing room. [Charles goes]. Adolphus: tell them to send
round the carriage in about fifteen minutes. [Adolphus goes].
MORRISON [at the door] Mr Undershaft.
Undershaft comes in. Morrison goes out.
UNDERSHAFT. Alone! How fortunate!
LADY BRITOMART [rising] Don't be sentimental, Andrew. Sit down.
[She sits on the settee: he sits beside her, on her left. She
comes to the point before he has time to breathe]. Sarah must
have 800 pounds a year until Charles Lomax comes into his
property. Barbara will need more, and need it permanently,
because Adolphus hasn't any property.
UNDERSHAFT [resignedly] Yes, my dear: I will see to it. Anything
else? for yourself, for instance?
LADY BRITOMART. I want to talk to you about Stephen.
UNDERSHAFT [rather wearily] Don't, my dear. Stephen doesn't
interest me.
LADY BRITOMART. He does interest me. He is our son.
UNDERSHAFT. Do you really think so? He has induced us to bring
him into the world; but he chose his parents very incongruously,
I think. I see nothing of myself in him, and less of you.
LADY BRITOMART. Andrew: Stephen is an excellent son, and a most
steady, capable, highminded young man. YOU are simply trying to
find an excuse for disinheriting him.
UNDERSHAFT. My dear Biddy: the Undershaft tradition disinherits
him. It would be dishonest of me to leave the cannon foundry to
my son.
LADY BRITOMART. It would be most unnatural and improper of you to
leave it to anyone else, Andrew. Do you suppose this wicked and
immoral tradition can be kept up for ever? Do you pretend that
Stephen could not carry on the foundry just as well as all the
other sons of the big business houses?
UNDERSHAFT. Yes: he could learn the office routine without
understanding the business, like all the other sons; and the firm
would go on by its own momentum until the real Undershaft--
probably an Italian or a German--would invent a new method and
cut him out.
LADY BRITOMART. There is nothing that any Italian or German could
do that Stephen could not do. And Stephen at least has breeding.
UNDERSHAFT. The son of a foundling! nonsense!
LADY BRITOMART. My son, Andrew! And even you may have good blood
in your veins for all you know.
UNDERSHAFT. True. Probably I have. That is another argument in
favor of a foundling.
LADY BRITOMART. Andrew: don't be aggravating. And don't be
wicked. At present you are both.
UNDERSHAFT. This conversation is part of the Undershaft
tradition, Biddy. Every Undershaft's wife has treated him to it
ever since the house was founded. It is mere waste of breath. If
the tradition be ever broken it will be for an abler man than
Stephen.
LADY BRITOMART [pouting] Then go away.
UNDERSHAFT [deprecatory] Go away!
LADY BRITOMART. Yes: go away. If you will do nothing for Stephen,
you are not wanted here. Go to your foundling, whoever he is; and
look after him.
UNDERSHAFT. The fact is, Biddy--
LADY BRITOMART. Don't call me Biddy. I don't call you Andy.
UNDERSHAFT. I will not call my wife Britomart: it is not good
sense. Seriously, my love, the Undershaft tradition has landed me
in a difficulty. I am getting on in years; and my partner Lazarus
has at last made a stand and insisted that the succession must be
settled one way or the other; and of course he is quite right.
You see, I haven't found a fit successor yet.
LADY BRITOMART [obstinately] There is Stephen.
UNDERSHAFT. That's just it: all the foundlings I can find are
exactly like Stephen.
LADY BRITOMART. Andrew!!
UNDERSHAFT. I want a man with no relations and no schooling: that
is, a man who would be out of the running altogether if he were
not a strong man. And I can't find him. Every blessed foundling
nowadays is snapped up in his infancy by Barnardo homes, or
School Board officers, or Boards of Guardians; and if he shows
the least ability, he is fastened on by schoolmasters; trained to
win scholarships like a racehorse; crammed with secondhand ideas;
drilled and disciplined in docility and what they call good
taste; and lamed for life so that he is fit for nothing but
teaching. If you want to keep the foundry in the family, you had
better find an eligible foundling and marry him to Barbara.
LADY BRITOMART. Ah! Barbara! Your pet! You would sacrifice
Stephen to Barbara.
UNDERSHAFT. Cheerfully. And you, my dear, would boil Barbara to
make soup for Stephen.
LADY BRITOMART. Andrew: this is not a question of our likings and
dislikings: it is a question of duty. It is your duty to make
Stephen your successor.
UNDERSHAFT. Just as much as it is your duty to submit to your
husband. Come, Biddy! these tricks of the governing class are of
no use with me. I am one of the governing class myself; and it is
waste of time giving tracts to a missionary. I have the power in
this matter; and I am not to be humbugged into using it for your
purposes.
LADY BRITOMART. Andrew: you can talk my head off; but you can't
change wrong into right. And your tie is all on one side. Put it
straight.
UNDERSHAFT [disconcerted] It won't stay unless it's pinned [he
fumbles at it with childish grimaces]--
Stephen comes in.
STEPHEN [at the door] I beg your pardon [about to retire].
LADY BRITOMART. No: come in, Stephen. [Stephen comes forward to
his mother's writing table.
UNDERSHAFT [not very cordially] Good afternoon.
STEPHEN [coldly] Good afternoon.
UNDERSHAFT [to Lady Britomart] He knows all about the tradition,
I suppose?
LADY BRITOMART. Yes. [To Stephen] It is what I told you last
night, Stephen.
UNDERSHAFT [sulkily] I understand you want to come into the
cannon business.
STEPHEN. _I_ go into trade! Certainly not.
UNDERSHAFT [opening his eyes, greatly eased in mind and manner]
Oh! in that case--!
LADY BRITOMART. Cannons are not trade, Stephen. They are
enterprise.
STEPHEN. I have no intention of becoming a man of business in any
sense. I have no capacity for business and no taste for it. I
intend to devote myself to politics.
UNDERSHAFT [rising] My dear boy: this is an immense relief to me.
And I trust it may prove an equally good thing for the country. I
was afraid you would consider yourself disparaged and slighted.
[He moves towards Stephen as if to shake hands with him].
LADY BRITOMART [rising and interposing] Stephen: I cannot allow
you to throw away an enormous property like this.
STEPHEN [stiffly] Mother: there must be an end of treating me as
a child, if you please. [Lady Britomart recoils, deeply wounded
by his tone]. Until last night I did not take your attitude
seriously, because I did not think you meant it seriously. But I
find now that you left me in the dark as to matters which you
should have explained to me years ago. I am extremely hurt and
offended. Any further discussion of my intentions had better take
place with my father, as between one man and another.
LADY BRITOMART. Stephen! [She sits down again; and her eyes fill
with tears].
UNDERSHAFT [with grave compassion] You see, my dear, it is only
the big men who can be treated as children.
STEPHEN. I am sorry, mother, that you have forced me--
UNDERSHAFT [stopping him] Yes, yes, yes, yes: that's all right,
Stephen. She wont interfere with you any more: your independence
is achieved: you have won your latchkey. Don't rub it in; and
above all, don't apologize. [He resumes his seat]. Now what about
your future, as between one man and another--I beg your pardon,
Biddy: as between two men and a woman.
LADY BRITOMART [who has pulled herself together strongly] I quite
understand, Stephen. By all means go your own way if you feel
strong enough. [Stephen sits down magisterially in the chair at
the writing table with an air of affirming his majority].
UNDERSHAFT. It is settled that you do not ask for the succession
to the cannon business.
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