Major Barbara/Act II, § ii
BARBARA [complacently] You see I was right about your trade. [Bill, on the point of retorting furiously, finds himself, to his great shame and terror, in danger of crying instead. He sits down again suddenly]. What's her name?
BILL [dogged] Er name's Mog Abbijam: thats wot her name is.
BARBARA. Oh, she's gone to Canning Town, to our barracks there.
BILL [fortified by his resentment of Mog's perfidy] is she? [Vindictively] Then I'm goin to Kennintahn arter her. [He crosses to the gate; hesitates; finally comes back at Barbara]. Are you lyin to me to get shut o me?
BARBARA. I don't want to get shut of you. I want to keep you here and save your soul. You'd better stay: you're going to have a bad time today, Bill.
BILL. Who's goin to give it to me? You, preps.
BARBARA. Someone you don't believe in. But you'll be glad afterwards.
BILL [slinking off] I'll go to Kennintahn to be out o the reach o your tongue. [Suddenly turning on her with intense malice] And if I don't find Mog there, I'll come back and do two years for you, selp me Gawd if I don't!
BARBARA [a shade kindlier, if possible] It's no use, Bill. She's got another bloke.
BARBARA. One of her own converts. He fell in love with her when he saw her with her soul saved, and her face clean, and her hair washed.
BILL [surprised] Wottud she wash it for, the carroty slat? It's red.
BARBARA. It's quite lovely now, because she wears a new look in her eyes with it. It's a pity you're too late. The new bloke has put your nose out of joint, Bill.
BILL. I'll put his nose out o joint for him. Not that I care a curse for her, mind that. But I'll teach her to drop me as if I was dirt. And I'll teach him to meddle with my Judy. Wots iz bleedin name?
BARBARA. Sergeant Todger Fairmile.
SHIRLEY [rising with grim joy] I'll go with him, miss. I want to see them two meet. I'll take him to the infirmary when it's over.
BILL [to Shirley, with undissembled misgiving] Is that im you was speakin on?
SHIRLEY. That's him.
BILL. Im that wrastled in the music all?
SHIRLEY. The competitions at the National Sportin Club was worth nigh a hundred a year to him. He's gev em up now for religion; so he's a bit fresh for want of the exercise he was accustomed to. He'll be glad to see you. Come along.
BILL. Wots is weight?
SHIRLEY. Thirteen four. [Bill's last hope expires].
BARBARA. Go and talk to him, Bill. He'll convert you.
SHIRLEY. He'll convert your head into a mashed potato.
BILL [sullenly] I ain't afraid of him. I ain't afraid of ennybody. But he can lick me. She's done me. [He sits down moodily on the edge of the horse trough].
SHIRLEY. You ain't goin. I thought not. [He resumes his seat].
BARBARA [calling] Jenny!
JENNY [appearing at the shelter door with a plaster on the corner of her mouth] Yes, Major.
BARBARA. Send Rummy Mitchens out to clear away here.
JENNY. I think she's afraid.
BARBARA [her resemblance to her mother flashing out for a moment] Nonsense! she must do as she's told.
JENNY [calling into the shelter] Rummy: the Major says you must come.
- Jenny comes to Barbara, purposely keeping on the side next Bill, lest he should suppose that she shrank from him or bore malice.
BARBARA. Poor little Jenny! Are you tired? [Looking at the wounded cheek] Does it hurt?
JENNY. No: it's all right now. It was nothing.
BARBARA [critically] It was as hard as he could hit, I expect. Poor Bill! You don't feel angry with him, do you?
JENNY. Oh no, no, no: indeed I don't, Major, bless his poor heart! [Barbara kisses her; and she runs away merrily into the shelter. Bill writhes with an agonizing return of his new and alarming symptoms, but says nothing. Rummy Mitchens comes from the shelter].
BARBARA [going to meet Rummy] Now Rummy, bustle. Take in those mugs and plates to be washed; and throw the crumbs about for the birds.
- Rummy takes the three plates and mugs; but Shirley takes back his mug from her, as there it still come milk left in it.
RUMMY. There ain't any crumbs. This ain't a time to waste good bread on birds.
PRICE [appearing at the shelter door] Gentleman come to see the shelter, Major. Says he's your father.
BARBARA. All right. Coming. [Snobby goes back into the shelter, followed by Barbara].
RUMMY [stealing across to Bill and addressing him in a subdued voice, but with intense conviction] I'd av the lor of you, you flat eared pignosed potwalloper, if she'd let me. You're no gentleman, to hit a lady in the face. [Bill, with greater things moving in him, takes no notice].
SHIRLEY [following her] Here! in with you and don't get yourself into more trouble by talking.
RUMMY [with hauteur] I ain't ad the pleasure o being hintroduced to you, as I can remember. [She goes into the shelter with the plates].
BILL [savagely] Don't you talk to me, d'ye hear. You lea me alone, or I'll do you a mischief. I'm not dirt under your feet, anyway.
SHIRLEY [calmly] Don't you be afeerd. You ain't such prime company that you need expect to be sought after. [He is about to go into the shelter when Barbara comes out, with Undershaft on her right].
BARBARA. Oh there you are, Mr Shirley! [Between them] This is my father: I told you he was a Secularist, didn't I? Perhaps you'll be able to comfort one another.
UNDERSHAFT [startled] A Secularist! Not the least in the world: on the contrary, a confirmed mystic.
BARBARA. Sorry, I'm sure. By the way, papa, what is your religion—in case I have to introduce you again?
UNDERSHAFT. My religion? Well, my dear, I am a Millionaire. That is my religion.
BARBARA. Then I'm afraid you and Mr Shirley wont be able to comfort one another after all. You're not a Millionaire, are you, Peter?
SHIRLEY. No; and proud of it.
UNDERSHAFT [gravely] Poverty, my friend, is not a thing to be proud of.
SHIRLEY [angrily] Who made your millions for you? Me and my like. What's kep us poor? Keepin you rich. I wouldn't have your conscience, not for all your income.
UNDERSHAFT. I wouldn't have your income, not for all your conscience, Mr Shirley. [He goes to the penthouse and sits down on a form].
BARBARA [stopping Shirley adroitly as he is about to retort] You wouldn't think he was my father, would you, Peter? Will you go into the shelter and lend the lasses a hand for a while: we're worked off our feet.
SHIRLEY [bitterly] Yes: I'm in their debt for a meal, ain't I?
BARBARA. Oh, not because you're in their debt; but for love of them, Peter, for love of them. [He cannot understand, and is rather scandalized]. There! Don't stare at me. In with you; and give that conscience of yours a holiday [bustling him into the shelter].
SHIRLEY [as he goes in] Ah! it's a pity you never was trained to use your reason, miss. You'd have been a very taking lecturer on Secularism.
- Barbara turns to her father.
UNDERSHAFT. Never mind me, my dear. Go about your work; and let me watch it for a while.
BARBARA. All right.
UNDERSHAFT. For instance, what's the matter with that out-patient over there?
BARBARA [looking at Bill, whose attitude has never changed, and whose expression of brooding wrath has deepened] Oh, we shall cure him in no time. Just watch. [She goes over to Bill and waits. He glances up at her and casts his eyes down again, uneasy, but grimmer than ever]. It would be nice to just stamp on Mog Habbijam's face, wouldn't it, Bill?
BILL [starting up from the trough in consternation] It's a lie: I never said so. [She shakes her head]. Who told you wot was in my mind?
BARBARA. Only your new friend.
BILL. Wot new friend?
BARBARA. The devil, Bill. When he gets round people they get miserable, just like you.
HILL [with a heartbreaking attempt at devil-may-care cheerfulness] I ain't miserable. [He sits down again, and stretches his legs in an attempt to seem indifferent].
BARBARA. Well, if you're happy, why don't you look happy, as we do?
BILL [his legs curling back in spite of him] I'm appy enough, I tell you. Why don't you lea me alown? Wot av I done to you? I ain't smashed your face, av I?
BARBARA [softly: wooing his soul] It's not me that's getting at you, Bill.
BILL. Who else is it?
BARBARA. Somebody that doesn't intend you to smash women's faces, I suppose. Somebody or something that wants to make a man of you.
BILL [blustering] Make a man o me! Ain't I a man? eh? ain't I a man? Who sez I'm not a man?
BARBARA. There's a man in you somewhere, I suppose. But why did he let you hit poor little Jenny Hill? That wasn't very manly of him, was it?
BILL [tormented] Av done with it, I tell you. Chock it. I'm sick of your Jenny Ill and er silly little face.
BARBARA. Then why do you keep thinking about it? Why does it keep coming up against you in your mind? You're not getting converted, are you?
BILL [with conviction] Not me. Not likely. Not arf.
BARBARA. That's right, Bill. Hold out against it. Put out your strength. Don't let's get you cheap. Todger Fairmile said he wrestled for three nights against his Salvation harder than he ever wrestled with the Jap at the music hall. He gave in to the Jap when his arm was going to break. But he didn't give in to his salvation until his heart was going to break. Perhaps you'll escape that. You haven't any heart, have you?
BILL. Wot dye mean? Wy ain't I got a art the same as ennybody else?
BARBARA. A man with a heart wouldn't have bashed poor little Jenny's face, would he?
BILL [almost crying] Ow, will you lea me alown? Av I ever offered to meddle with you, that you come neggin and provowkin me lawk this? [He writhes convulsively from his eyes to his toes].
BARBARA [with a steady soothing hand on his arm and a gentle voice that never lets him go] It's your soul that's hurting you, Bill, and not me. We've been through it all ourselves. Come with us, Bill. [He looks wildly round]. To brave manhood on earth and eternal glory in heaven. [He is on the point of breaking down]. Come. [A drum is heard in the shelter; and Bill, with a gasp, escapes from the spell as Barbara turns quickly. Adolphus enters from the shelter with a big drum]. Oh! there you are, Dolly. Let me introduce a new friend of mine, Mr Bill Walker. This is my bloke, Bill: Mr Cusins. [Cusins salutes with his drumstick].
BILL. Goin to marry im?
BILL [fervently] Gawd elp im! Gawd elp im!
BARBARA. Why? Do you think he won't be happy with me?
BILL. I've only ad to stand it for a mornin: e'll av to stand it for a lifetime.
CUSINS. That is a frightful reflection, Mr Walker. But I can't tear myself away from her.
BILL. Well, I can. [To Barbara] Eah! do you know where I'm goin to, and wot I'm goin to do?
BARBARA. Yes: you're going to heaven; and you're coming back here before the week's out to tell me so.
BILL. You lie. I'm goin to Kennintahn, to spit in Todger Fairmile's eye. I bashed Jenny Ill's face; and now I'll get me own face bashed and come back and show it to er. E'll it me ardern I it er. That'll make us square. [To Adolphus] Is that fair or is it not? You're a genlmn: you oughter know.
BARBARA. Two black eyes wont make one white one, Bill.
BILL. I didn't ast you. Cawn't you never keep your mahth shut? I ast the genlmn.
CUSINS [reflectively] Yes: I think you're right, Mr Walker. Yes: I should do it. It's curious: it's exactly what an ancient Greek would have done.
BARBARA. But what good will it do?
CUSINS. Well, it will give Mr Fairmile some exercise; and it will satisfy Mr Walker's soul.
BILL. Rot! there ain't no sach a thing as a soul. Ah kin you tell wether I've a soul or not? You never seen it.
BARBARA. I've seen it hurting you when you went against it.
BILL [with compressed aggravation] If you was my girl and took the word out o me mahth lawk thet, I'd give you suthink you'd feel urtin, so I would. [To Adolphus] You take my tip, mate. Stop er jawr; or you'll die afore your time. [With intense expression] Wore aht: thets wot you'll be: wore aht. [He goes away through the gate].
CUSINS [looking after him] I wonder!
BARBARA. Dolly! [indignant, in her mother's manner].
CUSINS. Yes, my dear, it's very wearing to be in love with you. If it lasts, I quite think I shall die young.
BARBARA. Should you mind?
CUSINS. Not at all. [He is suddenly softened, and kisses her over the drum, evidently not for the first time, as people cannot kiss over a big drum without practice. Undershaft coughs].
BARBARA. It's all right, papa, we've not forgotten you. Dolly: explain the place to papa: I haven't time. [She goes busily into the shelter].
- Undershaft and Adolpbus now have the yard to themselves. Undershaft, seated on a form, and still keenly attentive, looks hard at Adolphus. Adolphus looks hard at him.
UNDERSHAFT. I fancy you guess something of what is in my mind, Mr Cusins. [Cusins flourishes his drumsticks as if in the act of beating a lively rataplan, but makes no sound]. Exactly so. But suppose Barbara finds you out!
CUSINS. You know, I do not admit that I am imposing on Barbara. I am quite genuinely interested in the views of the Salvation Army. The fact is, I am a sort of collector of religions; and the curious thing is that I find I can believe them all. By the way, have you any religion?
CUSINS. Anything out of the common?
UNDERSHAFT. Only that there are two things necessary to Salvation.
CUSINS [disappointed, but polite] Ah, the Church Catechism. Charles Lomax also belongs to the Established Church.
UNDERSHAFT. The two things are—
CUSINS. Baptism and—
UNDERSHAFT. No. Money and gunpowder.
CUSINS [surprised, but interested] That is the general opinion of our governing classes. The novelty is in hearing any man confess it.
UNDERSHAFT. Just so.
CUSINS. Excuse me: is there any place in your religion for honor, justice, truth, love, mercy and so forth?
UNDERSHAFT. Yes: they are the graces and luxuries of a rich, strong, and safe life.
CUSINS. Suppose one is forced to choose between them and money or gunpowder?
UNDERSHAFT. Choose money and gunpowder; for without enough of both you cannot afford the others.
CUSINS. That is your religion?
- The cadence of this reply makes a full close in the conversation. Cusins twists his face dubiously and contemplates Undershaft. Undershaft contemplates him.
CUSINS. Barbara won't stand that. You will have to choose between your religion and Barbara.
UNDERSHAFT. So will you, my friend. She will find out that that drum of yours is hollow.
CUSINS. Father Undershaft: you are mistaken: I am a sincere Salvationist. You do not understand the Salvation Army. It is the army of joy, of love, of courage: it has banished the fear and remorse and despair of the old hellridden evangelical sects: it marches to fight the devil with trumpet and drum, with music and dancing, with banner and palm, as becomes a sally from heaven by its happy garrison. It picks the waster out of the public house and makes a man of him: it finds a worm wriggling in a back kitchen, and lo! a woman! Men and women of rank too, sons and daughters of the Highest. It takes the poor professor of Greek, the most artificial and self-suppressed of human creatures, from his meal of roots, and lets loose the rhapsodist in him; reveals the true worship of Dionysos to him; sends him down the public street drumming dithyrambs [he plays a thundering flourish on the drum].
UNDERSHAFT. You will alarm the shelter.
CUSINS. Oh, they are accustomed to these sudden ecstasies of piety. However, if the drum worries you— [he pockets the drumsticks; unhooks the drum; and stands it on the ground opposite the gateway].
UNDERSHAFT. Thank you.
CUSINS. You remember what Euripides says about your money and gunpowder?
- One and another
- In money and guns may outpass his brother;
- And men in their millions float and flow
- And seethe with a million hopes as leaven;
- And they win their will; or they miss their will;
- And their hopes are dead or are pined for still:
- But whoe'er can know
- As the long days go
- But whoe'er can know
- That to live is happy, has found his heaven.
- One and another
My translation: what do you think of it?
UNDERSHAFT. I think, my friend, that if you wish to know, as the long days go, that to live is happy, you must first acquire money enough for a decent life, and power enough to be your own master.
CUSINS. You are damnably discouraging. [He resumes his declamation].
- Is it so hard a thing to see
- That the spirit of God—whate'er it be—
- Is it so hard a thing to see
- The Law that abides and changes not, ages long,
- The Eternal and Nature-born: these things be strong.
- What else is Wisdom? What of Man's endeavor,
- Or God's high grace so lovely and so great?
- To stand from fear set free? to breathe and wait?
- To hold a hand uplifted over Fate?
- And shall not Barbara be loved for ever?
UNDERSHAFT. Euripides mentions Barbara, does he?
CUSINS. It is a fair translation. The word means Loveliness.
UNDERSHAFT. May I ask—as Barbara's father—how much a year she is to be loved for ever on?
CUSINS. As Barbara's father, that is more your affair than mine. I can feed her by teaching Greek: that is about all.
UNDERSHAFT. Do you consider it a good match for her?
CUSINS [with polite obstinacy] Mr Undershaft: I am in many ways a weak, timid, ineffectual person; and my health is far from satisfactory. But whenever I feel that I must have anything, I get it, sooner or later. I feel that way about Barbara. I don't like marriage: I feel intensely afraid of it; and I don't know what I shall do with Barbara or what she will do with me. But I feel that I and nobody else must marry her. Please regard that as settled.—Not that I wish to be arbitrary; but why should I waste your time in discussing what is inevitable?
UNDERSHAFT. You mean that you will stick at nothing not even the conversion of the Salvation Army to the worship of Dionysos.
CUSINS. The business of the Salvation Army is to save, not to wrangle about the name of the pathfinder. Dionysos or another: what does it matter?
UNDERSHAFT [rising and approaching him] Professor Cusins you are a young man after my own heart.
CUSINS. Mr Undershaft: you are, as far as I am able to gather, a most infernal old rascal; but you appeal very strongly to my sense of ironic humor.
- Undershaft mutely offers his hand. They shake.
UNDERSHAFT [suddenly concentrating himself] And now to business.
CUSINS. Pardon me. We were discussing religion. Why go back to such an uninteresting and unimportant subject as business?
UNDERSHAFT. Religion is our business at present, because it is through religion alone that we can win Barbara.
CUSINS. Have you, too, fallen in love with Barbara?
UNDERSHAFT. Yes, with a father's love.
CUSINS. A father's love for a grown-up daughter is the most dangerous of all infatuations. I apologize for mentioning my own pale, coy, mistrustful fancy in the same breath with it.