Plays Political

by Dan Laurence

  HILDA. Sir Broadfoot Basham has come over from Scotland Yard. He is talking to Lady Chavender.

  SIR ARTHUR [rising and making for the telephone] Yes: I telephoned for him. He really must do something to stop these meetings. It was a mistake to make a man with a name like that Chief Commissioner of Police. People think him a trampling, bashing, brutal terrorist no matter how considerately the police behave. What we need is a thoroughly popular figure. [He takes up the telephone] Ask Sir Broadfoot Basham to come up.

  HILDA. I dont think any chief of police could be popular at present. Every day they are bludgeoning deputations of the unemployed. [She sits down and busies herself with letters].

  SIR ARTHUR. Poor devils! I hate that part of the business. But what are the police to do? We cant have the sittings of the local authorities threatened by deputations. Deputations are frightful nuisances even in the quietest times; but just now they are a public danger.

  The Chief Commissioner of Police enters by the main door. A capable looking man from the military point of view. He is a gentleman: and his manners are fairly pleasant; but they are not in the least conciliatory.

  Hilda rises and pulls out a chair for him at the end of the table nearest to her and farthest from Sir Arthur; then returns to her work at her desk. Sir Arthur comes round to his side of the table.

  SIR ARTHUR. Morning, Basham. Sit down. I’m devilishly busy; but you are always welcome to your ten minutes.

  BASHAM [coolly, sitting down] Thank you. You sent for me. [Anxiously] Anything new?

  SIR ARTHUR. These street corner meetings are going beyond all bounds.

  BASHAM [relieved] What harm do they do? Crowds are dangerous when theyve nothing to listen to or look at. The meetings keep them amused. They save us trouble.

  SIR ARTHUR. Thats all very well for you, Basham; but think of the trouble they make for me! Remember: this is a National Government, not a party one. I am up against my Conservative colleagues all the time; and they cant swallow the rank sedition that goes on every day at these meetings. Sir Dexter Rightside—you know what a regular old Diehard he is—heard a speaker say that if the police used tear gas the unemployed would give old Dexy something to cry for without any tear gas. That has brought matters to a head in the Cabinet. We shall make an Order in Council to enable you to put a stop to all street meetings and speeches.

  BASHAM [unimpressed—slowly] If you dont mind, P.M., I had rather you didnt do that.

  SIR ARTHUR. Why not?

  BASHAM. Crowd psychology.

  SIR ARTHUR. Nonsense! Really, Basham, if you are going to come this metaphysical rot over me I shall begin to wonder whether your appointment wasnt a mistake.

  BASHAM. Of course it was a mistake. Dealing with the unemployed is not a soldier’s job; and I was a soldier. If you want these crowds settled on soldierly lines, say so; and give me half a dozen machine guns. The streets will be clear before twelve o’clock.

  SIR ARTHUR. Man: have you considered the effect on the bye-elections ?

  BASHAM. A soldier has nothing to do with elections. You shew me a crowd and tell me to disperse it. All youll hear is a noise like a watchman’s rattle. Quite simple.

  SIR ARTHUR. Far too simple. You soldiers never understand the difficulties a statesman has to contend with.

  BASHAM. Well, whats your alternative?

  SIR ARTHUR. I have told you. Arrest the sedition mongers. That will shut old Dexy’s mouth.

  BASHAM. So that Satan may find mischief still for idle hands to do. No, P.M.: the right alternative is mine: keep the crowd amused. You ought to know that, I think, better than most men.

  SIR ARTHUR. I! What do you mean?

  BASHAM. The point is to prevent the crowd doing anything, isnt it?

  SIR ARTHUR. Anything mischievous: I suppose so. But—

  BASHAM. An English crowd will never do anything, mischievous or the reverse, while it is listening to speeches. And the fellows who make the speeches can be depended on never to do anything else. In the first place, they dont know how. In the second, they are afraid. I am instructing my agents to press all the talking societies, the Ethical Societies, the Socialist societies, the Communists, the Fascists, the Anarchists, the Syndicalists, the official Labor Party, the Independent Labor Party, the Salvation Army, the Church Army and the Atheists, to send their best tub-thumpers into the streets to seize the opportunity.

  SIR ARTHUR. What opportunity?

  BASHAM. They dont know. Neither do I. It’s only a phrase that means nothing: just what they are sure to rise at. I must keep Trafalgar Square going night and day. A few Labor M.P.s would help. You have a rare lot of gasbags under your thumb in the House. If you could send half a dozen of them down to the Yard, I could plant them where they would be really useful.

  SIR ARTHUR [incensed] Basham: I must tell you that we are quite determined to put a stop to this modern fashion of speaking disrespectfully of the House of Commons. If it goes too far we shall not hesitate to bring prominent offenders to the bar of the House, no matter what their position is.

  BASHAM. Arthur: as responsible head of the police, I am up against the facts all day and every day; and one of the facts is that nowadays nobody outside the party cliques cares a brass button for the House of Commons. [Rising] You will do what I ask you as to letting the speaking go on, wont you?

  SIR ARTHUR. Well, I—er—

  BASHAM. Unless you are game to try the machine guns.

  SIR ARTHUR. Oh do drop that, Basham [he returns to his chair and sits moodily].

  BASHAM. Righto! We’ll let them talk. Thanks ever so much. Sorry to have taken up so much of your time: I know it’s priceless. [He hurries to the door; then hesitates and adds] By the way, I know it’s asking a lot; but if you could give us a turn in Trafalgar Square yourself—some Sunday afternoon would be best—it—

  SIR ARTHUR [springing up, thoroughly roused] I!!!!

  BASHAM [hurriedly] No: of course you couldnt. Only, it would do such a lot of good—keep the crowd quiet talking about it for a fortnight. However, of course it’s impossible: say no more: so long. [He goes out].

  SIR ARTHUR [collapsing into his chair] Well, really! Basham’s losing his head. I wonder what he meant by saying that I ought to know better than most men. What ought I to know better than most men?

  HILDA. I think he meant that you are such a wonderful speaker you ought to know what a magical effect a fine speech has on a crowd.

  SIR ARTHUR [musing] Do you know, I am not at all sure that there is not something in his idea of my making a speech in Trafalgar Square. I have not done such a thing for many many years; but I have stood between the lions in my time; and I believe that if I were to tackle the unemployed face to face, and explain to them that I intend to call a conference in March next on the prospects of a revival of trade, it would have a wonderfully soothing effect.

  HILDA. But it’s impossible. You have a conference every month until November. And think of the time taken by the travelling! One in Paris! Two in Geneva! One in Japan! You cant possibly do it: you will break down.

  SIR ARTHUR. And shall I be any better at home here leading the House? sitting up all night in bad air listening to fools insulting me? I tell you I should have been dead long ago but for the relief of these conferences: the journeys and the change. And I look forward to Japan. I shall be able to pick up some nice old bric-a-brac there.

  HILDA. Oh well! You know best.

  SIR ARTHUR [energetically] And now to work. Work! work! work! [He rises and paces the floor in front of the table]. I want you to take down some notes for my speech this afternoon at the Church House. The Archbishop tells me that the Anglo-Catholics are going mad on what they call Christian Communism, and that I must head them off.

  HILDA. There are those old notes on the economic difficulties of Socialism that you used at the British Association last year.

  SIR ARTHUR. No: these parsons know too much about that. Besides, this is not the time to talk about economic difficulties: w
e’re up to the neck in them. The Archbishop says “Avoid figures; and stick to the fact that Socialism would break up the family.” I believe he is right: a bit of sentiment about the family always goes down well. Just jot this down for me. [Dictating] Family. Foundation of civilization. Foundation of the empire.

  HILDA. Will there be any Hindus or Mahometans present?

  SIR ARTHUR. No. No polygamists at the Church House. Besides, everybody knows that The Family means the British family. By the way, I can make a point of that. Put down in a separate line, in red capitals, “One man one wife.” Let me see now: can I work that up? “One child one father.” How would that do?

  HILDA. I think it would be safer to say “One child one mother.”

  SIR ARTHUR. No: that might get a laugh—the wrong sort of laugh. I’d better not risk it. Strike it out. A laugh in the wrong place in the Church House would be the very devil. Where did you get that necklace ? it’s rather pretty. I havnt seen it before.

  HILDA. Ive worn it every day for two months. [Striking out the “one child” note] Yes?

  SIR ARTHUR. Then—er—what subject are we on? [Testily] I wish you wouldnt interrupt me: I had the whole speech in my head beautifully; and now it’s gone.

  HILDA. Sorry. The family.

  SIR ARTHUR. The family? Whose family? What family? The Holy Family? The Royal Family? The Swiss Family Robinson? Do be a little more explicit, Miss Hanways.

  HILDA [gently insistent] Not any particular family. THE family. Socialism breaking up the family. For the Church House speech this afternoon.

  SIR ARTHUR. Yes yes yes, of course. I was in the House yesterday until three in the morning; and my brains are just so much tripe.

  HILDA. Why did you sit up? The business didnt matter.

  SIR ARTHUR [scandalized] Not matter! You really must not say these things, Miss Hanways. A full dress debate on whether Jameson or Thompson was right about what Johnson said in the Cabinet!

  HILDA. Ten years ago.

  SIR ARTHUR. What does that matter? The real question: the question whether Jameson or Thompson is a liar, is a vital question of the first importance.

  HILDA. But theyre both liars.

  SIR ARTHUR. Of course they are; but the division might have affected their inclusion in the next Cabinet. The whole House rose at it. Look at the papers this morning! Full of it.

  HILDA. And three lines about the unemployed, though I was twenty minutes late trying to shove my way through them. Really, Sir Arthur, you should have come home to bed. You will kill yourself if you try to get through your work and attend so many debates as well: you will indeed.

  SIR ARTHUR. Miss Hanways: I wish I could persuade you to remember occasionally that I happen to be the leader of the House of Commons.

  HILDA. Oh, what is the use of leading the House if it never goes anywhere? It just breaks my heart to see the state you come home in. You are good for nothing next morning.

  SIR ARTHUR [yelling at her] Dont remind me of it: do you think I dont know? My brain is overworked: my mental grasp is stretched and strained to breaking point. I shall go mad. [Pulling himself together] However, it’s no use grousing about it: I shall have a night off going to Geneva, and a week-end at Chequers. But it is hard to govern a country and do fifty thousand other things every day that might just as well be done by the Beadle of Burlington Arcade. Well, well, we mustnt waste time. Work! work! work! [He returns to his chair and sits down resolutely]. Get along with it. What were we talking about?

  HILDA. The family.

  SIR ARTHUR [grasping his temples distractedly] Oh dear! Has Lady Chavender’s sister-in-law been making a fuss again?

  HILDA. No, no. The family. Not any real family. THE family. Socialism breaking up the family. Your speech this afternoon at the Church House.

  SIR ARTHUR. Ah, of course. I am going dotty. Thirty years in Parliament and ten on the Front Bench would drive any man dotty. I have only one set of brains and I need ten. I—

  HILDA [urgently] We must get on with the notes for your speech, Sir Arthur. The morning has half gone already; and weve done nothing.

  SIR ARTHUR [again infuriated] How can the busiest man in England find time to do anything? It is you who have wasted the morning interrupting me with your silly remarks about your necklace. What do I care about your necklace?

  HILDA. You gave it to me, Sir Arthur.

  SIR ARTHUR. Did I? Ha ha ha! Yes: I believe I did. I bought it in Venice. But come along now. What about that speech?

  HILDA. Yes. The family. It was about the family.

  SIR ARTHUR. Well, I know that: I have not yet become a complete idiot. You keep saying the family, the family, the family.

  HILDA. Socialism and the family. How Socialism will break up the family.

  SIR ARTHUR. Who says Socialism will break up the family? Dont be a fool.

  HILDA. The Archbishop wants you to say it. At the Church House.

  SIR ARTHUR. Decidedly I am going mad.

  HILDA. No: you are only tired. You were getting along all right. One man one wife: that is where you stopped.

  SIR ARTHUR. One man one wife is one wife too many, if she has a lot of brothers who cant get on with the women they marry. Has it occurred to you, Miss Hanways, that the prospect of Socialism destroying the family may not be altogether unattractive?

  HILDA [despairingly] Oh, Sir Arthur, we must get on with the notes: we really must. I have all the letters to do yet. Do try to pick up the thread. The family the foundation of the empire. The foundation of Christianity. Of civilization. Of human society.

  SIR ARTHUR. Thats enough about the foundation: it wont bear any more. I must have another word to work up. Let me see. I have it. Nationalization of women.

  HILDA [remonstrating] Oh, Sir Arthur!

  SIR ARTHUR. Whats the matter now?

  HILDA. Such bunk!

  SIR ARTHUR. Miss Hanways: when a statesman is not talking bunk he is making trouble for himself; and Goodness knows I have trouble enough without making any more. Put this down. [He rises and takes his platform attitude at the end of the table]. “No, your Grace, my lords and gentlemen. Nationalize the land if you will; nationalize our industries if we must; nationalize education, housing, science, art, the theatre, the opera, even the cinema; but spare our women.”

  HILDA [having taken it down] Is that the finish?

  SIR ARTHUR [abandoning the attitude and pacing about] No: write in red capitals under it “Rock of Ages.”

  HILDA. I think Rock of Ages will be rather a shock unless in connexion with something very sincere. May I suggest “The Church’s One Foundation”?

  SIR ARTHUR. Yes. Much better. Thank you. The family the Church’s one foundation. Splendid.

  Miss Flavia Chavender, 19, bursts violently into the room through the masked door and dashes to her father.

  FLAVIA. Papa: I will not stand Mamma any longer. She interferes with me in every possible way out of sheer dislike of me. I refuse to live in this house with her a moment longer.

  Lady Chavender follows her in, speaking as she enters, and comes between the Prime Minister and his assailant.

  LADY CHAVENDER. I knew you were coming here to make a scene and disturb your father, though he has had hardly six hours sleep this week, and was up all night. I am so sorry, Arthur: she is uncontrollable.

  David Chavender, 18, slight, refined, rather small for his age, charges in to the table.

  DAVID [in a childish falsetto] Look here, Mamma. Cant you let Flavia alone? I wont stand by and see her nagged at and treated like a child of six. Nag! nag! nag! everything she does.

  LADY CHAVENDER. Nag!! I control myself to the limit of human endurance with you all. But Flavia makes a study of annoying me.

  FLAVIA. It’s not true: I have considered you and given up all the things I wanted for you until I have no individuality left. If I take up a book you want me to read something else. If I want to see anybody you want me to see somebody else. If I choose the color of my own dress you want somet
hing different and dowdy. I cant sit right nor stand right nor do my hair right nor dress myself right: my life here is a hell.

  LADY CHAVENDER. Flavia!!

  FLAVIA [passionately] Yes, hell.

  DAVID. Quite true. [Fortissimo] Hell.

  LADY CHAVENDER [quietly] Miss Hanways: would you mind—

  HILDA. Yes, Lady Chavender [she rises to go]

  FLAVIA. You neednt go, Hilda. You know what I have to endure.

  DAVID. Damn all this paralyzing delicacy! Damn it!

  LADY CHAVENDER. Arthur-