The SERGEANT considers that her feelings do her credit, and is sympathetic in an encouraging military way. Being a fine figure of a man, vain of his uniform and of his rank, he feels specially qualified, in a respectful way, to console her.
SERGEANT You can have a quiet word with him here, mum.
JUDITH Shall I have long to wait?
SERGEANT No, mum, not a minute. We kep him in the Bridewellbu for the night; and he’s just been brought over here for the court martial. Dont fret, mum: he slep like a child, and has made a rare good breakfast.
JUDITH [incredulously] He is in good spirits!
SERGEANT Tip top, mum. The chaplain looked in to see him last night; and he won seventeen shillings off him at spoil five. He spent it among us like the gentleman he is. Duty’s duty, mum, of course; but youre among friends here. [The tramp of a couple of soldiers is heard approaching]. There: I think he’s coming. [RICHARD comes in, without a sign of care or captivity in his bearing. The sergeant nods to the two soldiers, and shews them the key of the room in his hand. They withdraw]. Your good lady, sir.
RICHARD [going to her] What! My wife. My adored one. [He takes her hand and kisses it with a perverse, raffishbv gallantry]. How long do you allow a brokenhearted husband for leave-taking, Sergeant?
SERGEANT As long as we can, sir. We shall not disturb you til the court sits.
RICHARD But it has struck the hour.
SERGEANT So it has, sir; but there’s a delay. General Burgoyne’s just arrived—Gentlemanly Johnny we call him, sir—and he wont have done finding fault with everything this side of half past. I know him, sir: I served with him in Portugal. You may count on twenty minutes, sir; and by your leave I wont waste any more of them. [He goes out, locking the door. RICHARD immediately drops his raffish manner and turns to JUDITH with considerate sincerity].
RICHARD Mrs. Anderson: this visit is very kind of you. And how are you after last night? I had to leave you before you recovered; but I sent word to Essie to go and look after you. Did she understand the message?
JUDITH [breathless and urgent] Oh, dont think of me: I havent come here to talk about myself. Are they going to—to—[meaning “to hang you”]?
RICHARD [whimsically] At noon, punctually. At least, that was when they disposed of Uncle Peter. [She shudders]. Is your husband safe? Is he on the wing?
JUDITH He is no longer my husband.
RICHARD [opening his eyes wide] Eh?
JUDITH I disobeyed you. I told him everything. I expected him to come here and save you. I wanted him to come here and save you. He ran away instead.
RICHARD Well, thats what I meant him to do. What good would his staying have done? Theyd only have hanged us both.
JUDITH [with reproachful earnestness] Richard Dudgeon: on your honour, what would you have done in his place?
RICHARD Exactly what he has done, of course.
JUDITH Oh, why will you not be simple with me—honest and straightforward? If you are so selfish as that, why did you let them take you last night?
RICHARD [gaily] Upon my life, Mrs. Anderson, I dont know. Ive been asking myself that question ever since; and I can find no manner of reason for acting as I did.
JUDITH You know you did it for his sake, believing he was a more worthy man than yourself.
RICHARD [laughing] Oho! No: thats a very pretty reason, I must say; but I’m not so modest as that. No: it wasnt for his sake.
JUDITH [after a pause, during which she looks shamefacedly at him, blushing painfully] Was it for my sake?
RICHARD [gallantly] Well, you had a hand in it. It must have been a little for your sake. You let them take me, at all events.
JUDITH Oh, do you think I have not been telling myself that all night? Your death will be at my door. [Impulsively, she gives him her hand, and adds, with intense earnestness]. If I could save you as you saved him, I would do it, no matter how cruel the death was.
RICHARD [holding her hand and smiling, but keeping her almost at arms length] I am very sure I shouldnt let you.
JUDITH Dont you see that I can save you?
RICHARD How? By changing clothes with me, eh?
JUDITH [disengaging her hand to touch his lips with it] Dont [meaning “Dont jest”]. No: by telling the Court who you really are.
RICHARD [frowning] No use: they wouldnt spare me; and it would spoil half of his chance of escaping. They are determined to cow us by making an example of somebody on that gallows today. Well, let us cow them by showing that we can stand by one another to the death. That is the only force that can send Burgoyne back across the Atlantic and make America a nation.
JUDITH [impatiently] Oh, what does all that matter?
RICHARD [laughing] True: what does it matter? what does anything matter? You see, men have these strange notions, Mrs. Anderson ; and women see the folly of them.
JUDITH Women have to lose those they love through them.
RICHARD They can easily get fresh lovers.
JUDITH [revoltedJ Oh! [Vehemently] Do you realise that you are going to kill yourself?
RICHARD The only man I have any right to kill, Mrs. Anderson. Dont be concerned: no woman will lose her lover through my death. [Smiling] Bless you, nobody cares for me. Have you heard that my mother is dead?
JUDITH Dead!
RICHARD Of heart disease—in the night. Her last word to me was her curse: I dont think I could have borne her blessing. My other relatives will not grieve much on my account. Essie will cry for a day or two; but I have provided for her: I made my own will last night.
JUDITH [stonily, after a moment’s silence] And I!
RICHARD [surprised] You?
JUDITH Yes, I. Am I not to care at all?
RICHARD [gaily and bluntly] Not a scrap. Oh, you expressed your feelings towards me very frankly yesterday. What happened may have softened you for the moment; but believe me, Mrs. Anderson, you dont like a bone in my skin or a hair on my head. I shall be as good a riddance at 12 to-day as I should have been at 12 yesterday.
JUDITH [her voice trembling] What can I do to shew you that you are mistaken.
RICHARD Dont trouble. I’ll give you credit for liking me a little better than you did. All I say is that my death will not break your heart.
JUDITH [almost in a whisper] How do you know? (She puts her hands on his shoulders and looks intently at him].
RICHARD [amazed—divining the truth] Mrs. Anderson!!! [The bell of the town clock strikes the quarter. He collects himself. and removes her hands, saying rather coldly] Excuse me: they will be here for me presently. It is too late.
JUDITH It is not too late. Call me as witness: they will never kill you when they know how heroically you have acted.
RICHARD [with some scorn] Indeed! But if I dont go through with it, where will the heroism be? I shall simply have tricked them; and theyll hang me for that like a dog. Serve me right too!
JUDITH [wildly] Oh, I believe you wan t to die.
RICHARD [obstinately] No I dont.
JUDITH Then why not try to save yourself? I implore you—listen. You said just now that you saved him for my sake—yes [clutching him as he recoils with a gesture of denial] a little for my sake. Well, save yourself for my sake. And I will go with you to the end of the world.
RICHARD [taking her by the wrists and holding her a little way, from him, looking steadily at her] Judith.
JUDITH [breathless—delighted at the name] Yes.
RICHARD If I said—to please you—that I did what I did ever so little for your sake, I lied as men always lie to women. You know how much I have lived with worthless men—aye, and worthless women too. Well, they could all rise to some sort of goodness and kindness when they were in love [the word love comes from him with true Puritan scorn]. That has taught me to set very little store by the goodness that only comes out red hot. What I did last night, I did in cold blood, caring not half so much for your husband, or [ruthlessly] for you [she droops, stricken] as I do for myself. I had no motive and no interest
: all I can tell you is that when it came to the point whether I would take my neck out of the noose and put another man’s into it, I could not do it. I dont know why not: I see myself as a fool for my pains; but I could not and I cannot. I have been brought up standing by the law of my own nature; and I may not go against it, gallows or no gallows. [She has slowly raised her head and is now looking full at him]. I should have done the same for any other man in the town, or any other man’s wife. (Releasing her]. Do you understand that?
JUDITH Yes: you mean that you do not love me.
RICHARD [revolted—with fierce contempt] Is that all it means to you?
JUDITH What more—what worse—can it mean to me? [The SERGEANT knocks. The blow on the door jars on her heart]. Oh, one moment more. [She throws herself on her knees]. I pray to you—
RICHARD Hush! [Calling] Come in. [The SERGEANT unlocks the door and opens it. The guard is with him].
SERGEANT [coming in] Time’s up, sir.
RICHARD Quite ready, Sergeant. Now, my dear. [He attempts to raise her].
JUDITH [clinging to him] Only one thing more—I entreat, I implore you. Let me be present in the court. I have seen Major Swindon: he said I should be allowed if you asked it. You will ask it. It is my last request: I shall never ask you anything again. [She clasps his knee]. I beg and pray it of you.
RICHARD If I do, will you be silent?
JUDITH Yes.
RICHARD You will keep faith?
JUDITH I will keep—[She breaks down, sobbing].
RICHARD [taking her arm to lift her] Just—her other arm, Sergeant. They go out, she sobbing convulsively, supported by the two men.
Meanwhile, the Council Chamber is ready for the court martial. It is a large, lofty room, with a chair of state in the middle under a tall canopy with a gilt crown, and maroon curtains with the royal monogram G. R. bw In front of the chair is a table, also draped in maroon, with a bell, a heavy inkstand, and writing materials on it. Several chairs are set at the table. The door is at the right hand of the occupant of the chair of state when it has an occupant: at present it is empty. MAJOR SWINDON, a pale, sandy haired, very conscientious looking man of about 45, sits at the end of the table with his back to the door, writing. He is alone until the SERGEANT announces the GENERAL in a subdued manner which suggests that GENTLEMANLY JOHNNY has been making his presence felt rather heavily.
SERGEANT The General, sir.
SWINDON rises hastily. The general comes in: the SERGEANT goes out. GENERAL BURGOYNE is 55, and very well preserved. He is a man of fashion, gallant enough to have made a distinguished marriage by an elopement, witty enough to write successful comedies, aristocraticallyconnected enough to have had opportunities of high military distinction. His eyes, large, brilliant, apprehensive, and intelligent, are his most remarkable feature: without them his fine nose and small mouth would suggest rather more fastidiousness and less force than go to the making of a first rate general.just now the eyes are angry and tragic, and the mouth and nostrils tense.
BURGOYNE Major Swindon, I presume.
SWINDON Yes. General Burgoyne, if I mistake not. [They bow to one another ceremoniously]. I am glad to have the support of your presence this morning. It is not particularly lively business, hanging this poor devil of a minister.
BURGOYNE [throwing himself into SWINDON’s chair] No, sir, it is not. It is making too much of the fellow to execute him: what more could you have done if he had been a member of the Church of England? Martyrdom, sir, is what these people like: it is the only way in which a man can become famous without ability. bx However, you have committed us to hanging him: and the sooner he is hanged the better.
SWINDON We have arranged it for 12 2 o‘clock. Nothing remains to be done except to try him.
BURGOYNE [looking at him with suppressed anger] Nothing—except to save our own necks, perhaps. Have you heard the news from Springtown?
SWINDON Nothing special. The latest reports are satisfactory.
BURGOYNE [rising in amazement] Satisfactory, sir! Satisfactory!! [He stares at him for a moment, and then adds, with grim intensity] I am glad you take that view of them.
SWINDON [puzzled] Do I understand that in your opinion—
BURGOYNE I do not express my opinion. I never stoop to that habit of profane language which unfortunately coarsens our profession. If Idid, sir, perhaps I should be able to express my opinion of the news from Springtown—the news which y o u [severely] have apparently not heard. How soon do you get news from your supports here?—in the course of a month, eh?
SWINDON [turning sulky] I suppose the reports have been taken to you, sir, instead of to me. Is there anything serious?
BURG0YNE [taking a report from his pocket and holding it up] Springtown’s in the hands of the rebels. [He throws the report on the table] .
SWINDON [aghast] Since yesterday!
BURGOYNE Since two o‘clock this morning. Perhaps we shall be in their hands before two o’clock to-morrow morning. Have you thought of that?
SWINDON [confidently] As to that, General, the British soldier will give a good account of himself.
BURGOYNE [bitterly] And therefore, I suppose, sir, the British officer need not know his business: the British soldier will get him out of all his blunders with the bayonet. In future, sir, I must ask you to be a little less generous with the blood of your men, and a little more generous with your own brains.
SWINDON I am sorry I cannot pretend to your intellectual eminence, sir. I can only do my best, and rely on the devotion of my countrymen.
BURGOYNE [suddenly becoming suavely sarcastic] May I ask are you writing a melodrama, Major Swindon?
SWINDON [flushing] No, sir.
BURGOYNE What a pity! What a pity! [Dropping his sarcastic tone and facing him suddenly and seriously) Do you at all realize, sir, that we have nothing standing between us and destruction but our own bluff and the sheepishness of these colonists? They are men of the same English stock as ourselves: six to one of us [repeating it emphatically] six to one, sir; and nearly half our troops are Hessians, Brunswickers, German dragoons, and Indians with scalping knives. These are the countrymen on whose devotion you rely! Suppose the colonists find a leader! Suppose the news from Springtown should turn out to mean that they have already found a leader! What shall we do then? Eh?
SWINDON [sullenly] Our duty, sir, I presume.
BURGOYNE [again sarcastic—giving him up as a fool] Quite so, quite so. Thank you, Major Swindon, thank you. Now youve settled the question, sir—thrown a flood of light on the situation. What a comfort to me to feel that I have at my side so devoted and able an officer to support me in this emergency! I think, sir, it will probably relieve both our feelings if we proceed to hang this dissenterby without further delay [he strikes the bell] especially as I am debarred by my principles from the customary military vent for my feelings. [The SERGEANT appears]. Bring your man in.
SERGEANT Yes, sir.
BURGOYNE And mention to any officer you may meet that the court cannot wait any longer for him.
SWINDON [keeping his temper with difficulty] The staff is perfectly ready, sir. They have been waiting your convenience for fully half an hour. Perfectly ready, sir.
BURGOYNE [blandly] So am I. [Several officers come in and take their seats. One of them sits at the end of the table furthest from the door, and acts throughout as clerk to the court, making notes of the proceedings. The uniforms are those of the 9th, 20th, 21 st, 24th, 47th, 53rd, and 62nd British Infantry. One Officer is a Major General of the Royal Artillery. There are also German Officers of the Hessian Rifles, and of German dragoon and Brunswicker regiments]. Oh, good morning, gentlemen. Sorry to disturb you, I am sure. Very good of you to spare us a few moments.
SWINDON Will you preside, sir?
BURGOYNE [becoming additionally polished, lofty, sarcastic and urbane now that he is in public] No, sir: I feel my own deficiencies too keenly to presume so far. If you will kindly allow me, I will sit at the feet of Gamalie
l. [He takes the chair at the end of the table next the door, and motions SWINDON to the chair of state, waiting for him to be seated before sitting down himself].
SWINDON [greatly annoyed] As you please, sir. I am only trying to do my duty under excessively trying circumstances. [He takes his place in the chair of state].
BURGOYNE, relaxing his studied demeanor for the moment, sits down and begins to read the report with knitted brows and careworn looks, reflecting on his desperate situation and SWINDON’s uselessness. RICHARD is brought in. JUDITH walks beside him. Two soldiers precede and two follow him, with the SERGEANT in command. They cross the room to the wall opposite the door; but when RICHARD has just passed before the chair of state the SERGEANT stops him with a touch on the arm, and posts himself behind him, at his elbow. JUDITH stands timidly at the wall. The four soldiers place themselves in a squad near her.
BURGOYNE [looking up and seeing JUDITH] Who is that woman?
SERGEANT Prisoner’s wife, sir.
SWINDON [nervously] She begged me to allow her to be present; and I thought—
BURGOYNE [completing the sentence for him ironically] You thought it would be a pleasure for her. Quite so, quite so. [blandly] Give the lady a chair; and make her thoroughly comfortable.
The SERGEANT fetches a chair and places it near RICHARD.
JUDITH Thank you, sir. [She sits down after an awestricken curtsy to BURGOYNE, which he acknowledges by a dignified bend of his head].
SWINDON [to RICHARD, sharply] Your name, sir?
RICHARD [affable, but obstinate] Come: you dont mean to say that youve brought me here without knowing who I am?
SWINDON As a matter of form, sir, give your name.
RICHARD As a matter of form then, my name is Anthony Anderson, Presbyterian minister in this town.
BURGOYNE [interested] Indeed! Pray, Mr. Anderson, what do you gentlemen believe?
RICHARD I shall be happy to explain if time is allowed me. I cannot undertake to complete your conversion in less than a fortnight.
SWINDON [snubbing him] We are not here to discuss your views.
BURGOYNE [with an elaborate bow to the unfortunate SWINDON] I stand rebuked.
Man and Superman and Three Other Plays Page 30