The Collected Dramas of George Bernard Shaw (Illustrated Edition). GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ 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. 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, aristocratically-connected 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 onto 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. However, you have committed us to hanging him: and the sooner he is hanged the better.

      SWINDON. We have arranged it for 12 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 I did, sir, perhaps I should be able to express my opinion of the news from Springtown — the news which YOU (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?

      BURGOYNE (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 tomorrow 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 you’ve 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 dissenter 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, 21st, 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 Gamaliel. (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 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 СКАЧАТЬ