The Mayor's parlor in the Town Hall of Little Pifflington. Lord Augustus
Highcastle, a distinguished member of the governing class, in the
uniform of a colonel, and very well preserved at forty-five, is
comfortably seated at a writing-table with his heels on it, reading The
Morning Post. The door faces him, a little to his left, at the other
side of the room. The window is behind him. In the fireplace, a gas
stove. On the table a bell button and a telephone. Portraits of past
Mayors, in robes and gold chains, adorn the walls. An elderly clerk with
a short white beard and whiskers, and a very red nose, shuffles in.
AUGUSTUS [hastily putting aside his paper and replacing his feet on the
floor]. Hullo! Who are you?
THE CLERK. The staff [a slight impediment in his speech adds to the
impression of incompetence produced by his age and appearance].
AUGUSTUS. You the staff! What do you mean, man?
THE CLERK. What I say. There ain't anybody else.
AUGUSTUS. Tush! Where are the others?
THE CLERK. At the front.
AUGUSTUS. Quite right. Most proper. Why aren't you at the front?
THE CLERK. Over age. Fifty-seven.
AUGUSTUS. But you can still do your bit. Many an older man is in the
G.R.'s, or volunteering for home defence.
THE CLERK. I have volunteered.
AUGUSTUS. Then why are you not in uniform?
THE CLERK. They said they wouldn't have me if I was given away with a
pound of tea. Told me to go home and not be an old silly. [A sense of
unbearable wrong, till now only smouldering in him, bursts into flame.]
Young Bill Knight, that I took with me, got two and sevenpence. I got
nothing. Is it justice? This country is going to the dogs, if you ask
me.
AUGUSTUS [rising indignantly]. I do not ask you, sir; and I will not
allow you to say such things in my presence. Our statesmen are the
greatest known to history. Our generals are invincible. Our army is
the admiration of the world. [Furiously.] How dare you tell me that the
country is going to the dogs!
THE CLERK. Why did they give young Bill Knight two and sevenpence, and
not give me even my tram fare? Do you call that being great statesmen?
As good as robbing me, I call it.
AUGUSTUS. That's enough. Leave the room. [He sits down and takes up his
pen, settling himself to work. The clerk shuffles to the door. Augustus
adds, with cold politeness] Send me the Secretary.
THE CLERK. I'M the Secretary. I can't leave the room and send myself to
you at the same time, can I?
AUGUSTUS, Don't be insolent. Where is the gentleman I have been
corresponding with: Mr Horatio Floyd Beamish?
THE CLERK [returning and bowing]. Here. Me.
AUGUSTUS. You! Ridiculous. What right have you to call yourself by a
pretentious name of that sort?
THE CLERK. You may drop the Horatio Floyd. Beamish is good enough for
me.
AUGUSTUS. Is there nobody else to take my instructions?
THE CLERK. It's me or nobody. And for two pins I'd chuck it. Don't you
drive me too far. Old uns like me is up in the world now.
AUGUSTUS. If we were not at war, I should discharge you on the spot for
disrespectful behavior. But England is in danger; and I cannot think of
my personal dignity at such a moment. [Shouting at him.] Don't you think
of yours, either, worm that you are; or I'll have you arrested under the
Defence of the Realm Act, double quick.
THE CLERK. What do I care about the realm? They done me out of two and
seven--
AUGUSTUS. Oh, damn your two and seven! Did you receive my letters?
THE CLERK. Yes.
AUGUSTUS. I addressed a meeting here last night--went straight to the
platform from the train. I wrote to you that I should expect you to be
present and report yourself. Why did you not do so?
THE CLERK. The police wouldn't let me on the platform.
AUGUSTUS. Did you tell them who you were?
THE CLERK. They knew who I was. That's why they wouldn't let me up.
AUGUSTUS. This is too silly for anything. This town wants waking up. I
made the best recruiting speech I ever made in my life; and not a man
joined.
THE CLERK. What did you expect? You told them our gallant fellows is
falling at the rate of a thousand a day in the big push. Dying for
Little Pifflington, you says. Come and take their places, you says. That
ain't the way to recruit.
AUGUSTUS. But I expressly told them their widows would have pensions.
THE CLERK. I heard you. Would have been all right if it had been the
widows you wanted to get round.
AUGUSTUS [rising angrily]. This town is inhabited by dastards. I say
it with a full sense of responsibility, DASTARDS! They call themselves
Englishmen; and they are afraid to fight.
THE CLERK. Afraid to fight! You should see them on a Saturday night.
AUGUSTUS. Yes, they fight one another; but they won't fight the Germans.
THE CLERK. They got grudges again one another: how can they have grudges
again the Huns that they never saw? They've no imagination: that's what
it is. Bring the Huns here; and they'll quarrel with them fast enough.
AUGUSTUS [returning to his seat with a grunt of disgust]. Mf! They'll
have them here if they're not careful. [Seated.] Have you carried out my
orders about the war saving?
THE CLERK. Yes.
AUGUSTUS. The allowance of petrol has been reduced by three quarters?
THE CLERK. It has.
AUGUSTUS. And you have told the motor-car people to come here and
arrange to start munition work now that their motor business is stopped?
THE CLERK. It ain't stopped. They're busier than ever.
AUGUSTUS. Busy at what?
THE CLERK. Making small cars.
AUGUSTUS. NEW cars!
THE CLERK. The old cars only do twelve miles to the gallon. Everybody
has to have a car that will do thirty-five now.
AUGUSTUS. Can't they take the train?
THE CLERK. There ain't no trains now. They've tore up the rails and sent
them to the front.
AUGUSTUS. Psha!
THE CLERK. Well, we have to get about somehow.
AUGUSTUS. This is perfectly monstrous. Not in the least what I intended.