Chapter 2

ANNYS. (_She turns_; _there are tears in her eyes_. _The question seems to recall her to herself_.) Nowhere. I am so sorry. I can’t help it. It seems to me to mean so much. It gives us the right to go before the people—to plead to them, not for ourselves, for them. (_Again she seems to lose consciousness of those at the table_, _of the room_.) To the men we will say: “Will you not trust us? Is it harm we have ever done you? Have we not suffered for you and with you? Were we not sent into the world to be your helpmeet? Are not the children ours as well as yours? Shall we not work together to shape the world where they must dwell? Is it only the mother-voice that shall not be heard in your councils? Is it only the mother-hand that shall not help to guide?” To the women we will say: “Tell them—tell them it is from no love of ourselves that we come from our sheltered homes into the street. It is to give, not to get—to mingle with the sterner judgments of men the deeper truths that God, through pain, has taught to women—to mingle with man’s justice woman’s pity, till there shall arise the perfect law—not made of man nor woman, but of both, each bringing what the other lacks.” And they will listen to us. Till now it has seemed to them that we were clamouring only for selfish ends. They have not understood. We shall speak to them of common purposes, use the language of fellow-citizens. They will see that we are worthy of the place we claim. They will welcome us as helpers in a common cause. They—

(_She turns_—_the present comes back to her_.)

LADY MOGTON. (_After a pause_.) The business (_she dwells severely on the word_) before the meeting—

ANNYS. (_She resents herself meekly_. _Apologising generally_.) I _must_ learn to control myself.

LADY MOGTON. (_Who has waited_.) —is McCaw versus Potts. Its bearing upon the movement for the extension of the franchise to women. My own view I venture to submit in the form of a resolution. (_She takes up a paper on which she has been writing_.) As follows: That the Council of the Woman’s Parliamentary Franchise League, having regard to the decision of the House of Lords in McCaw v. Potts—

ST. HERBERT. (_Looking over_.) Two t’s.

LADY MOGTON. —resolves to bring forward a woman candidate to contest the next bye-election. (_Suddenly to_ MRS. MOUNTCALM-VILLIERS, _who is chattering_.) Do you agree or disagree?

MRS. MOUNTCALM-VILLIERS. My dear! How can you ask? Of course we all agree. (_To Elizabeth_.) You agree, don’t you?

ELIZABETH. Of course, even if elected, she would not be allowed to take her seat.

PHOEBE. How do you know? Nothing more full of surprises than English law.

LADY MOGTON. At the present stage I regard that point as immaterial. What I am thinking of is the advertisement. A female candidate upon the platform will concentrate the whole attention of the country on our movement.

ST. HERBERT. It might even be prudent—until you have got the vote—to keep it dark that you will soon be proceeding to the next inevitable step.

ELIZABETH. You think even man could be so easily deceived!

ST. HERBERT. Man has had so much practice in being deceived. It comes naturally to him.

ELIZABETH. Poor devil!

LADY MOGTON. The only question remaining to be discussed is the candidate.

ANNYS. Is there not danger that between now and the next bye-election the Government may, having regard to this case, bring in a bill to stop women candidates from going to the poll?

ST. HERBERT. I have thought of that. Fortunately, the case seems to have attracted very little attention. If a bye-election occurred soon there would hardly be time.

LADY MOGTON. It must be the very next one that does occur—wherever it is.

JANET. I am sure that in the East End we should have a chance.

PHOEBE. Great Scott! Just think. If we were to win it!

ST. HERBERT. If you could get a straight fight against a Liberal I believe you would.

ANNYS. Why is the Government so unpopular?

ST. HERBERT. Well, take the weather alone—twelve degrees of frost again last night.

JANET. In St. George’s Road the sewer has burst. The water is in the rooms where the children are sleeping. (_She clenches her hands_.)

MRS. MOUNTCALM-VILLIERS. (_She shakes her head_.) Something ought really to be done.

LADY MOGTON. Has anybody any suggestion to make?—as regards the candidate. There’s no advantage in going outside. It will have to be one of ourselves.

MRS. MOUNTCALM-VILLIERS. Won’t you, dear?

LADY MOGTON. I shall be better employed organising. My own feeling is that it ought to be Annys. (_To_ ST. HERBERT.) What do you think?

ST. HERBERT. Undoubtedly.

ANNYS. I’d rather not.

LADY MOGTON. It’s not a question of liking. It’s a question of duty. For this occasion we shall be appealing to the male voter. Our candidate must be a woman popular with men. The choice is somewhat limited.

ELIZABETH. No one will put up so good a fight as you.

ANNYS. Will you give me till this evening?

LADY MOGTON. What for?

ANNYS. I should like to consult Geoffrey.

LADY MOGTON. You think he would object?

ANNYS. (_A little doubtfully_.) No. But we have always talked everything over together.

LADY MOGTON. Absurd! He’s one of our staunchest supporters. Of course he’ll be delighted.

ELIZABETH. I think the thing ought to be settled at once.

LADY MOGTON. It must be. I have to return to Manchester to-night. We shall have to get to work immediately.

ST. HERBERT. Geoffrey will surely take it as a compliment.

JANET. Don’t you feel that woman, all over the world, is calling to you?

ANNYS. It isn’t that. I’m not trying to shirk it. I merely thought that if there had been time—of course, if you really think—

LADY MOGTON. You consent?

ANNYS. Yes. If it’s everybody’s wish.

LADY MOGTON. That’s settled.

PHOEBE. (_She springs up_, _waving a handkerchief_.) Chilvers for ever!

JANET. (_Rises_.) God bless you!

MRS. MOUNTCALM-VILLIERS. (_Clapping her hands_.) Now we shan’t be long!

LADY MOGTON. (_Hammers_.) Order, please!

(_The three subside_.)

This is serious business. The next step is, of course—

(_The door opens_; GEOFFREY _enters_. _He is a youngish-looking man of three or four and thirty_. LADY MOGTON, _at the sound of the door_, _turns_. ST. HERBERT _rises_. _There is a pause_.)

LADY MOGTON. We’ve been talking about you. We must apologise for turning your drawing-room—

GEOFFREY. My dear mother-in-law, it is Providence. (_He kisses her_.) There is no one I was more longing to see.

ANNYS. (_She has risen_.) Hake told me you would be dining at the House.

GEOFFREY. (_He comes to her_, _kisses her_, _he is in a state of suppressed excitement_.) I shall be. I came back to bring you some news.

PHOEBE. We’ve got some news for you. Have you heard—

GEOFFREY. (_He stays her_.) May I claim man’s privilege for the first word? It is news, I am sure, you will all be delighted to hear. A friend of yours has been appointed to an office where—it is quite possible—he may be of service to you.

PHOEBE. Governorship of Holloway Gaol?

GEOFFREY. Not a bad guess. Very near it. To the Under-Secretaryship for Home Affairs.

LADY MOGTON. Who is it?

GEOFFREY. (_He bows_.) Your affectionate and devoted servant.

ANNYS. You!

PHOEBE. (_Genuinely delighted_. _She is not a quick thinker_.) Bravo! Congratulations, old boy! (_She has risen_—_she slaps him on the back_.)

ANNYS. Geoffrey! (_She puts her arms about him_.) You never told me anything.

GEOFFREY. I know, dear. I was afraid. It mightn’t have come off. And then you would have been so disappointed.

ANNYS. (_There are tears in her eyes_. _She still clings to him_.) I am so glad. Oh, I am so glad!

GEOFFREY. It is all your doing. You have been such a splendid help. (_He breaks gently away from her_. _Turns to_ ST. HERBERT, _with a lighter tone_.) Haven’t you anything to say to a fellow? You’re not usually dumb.

ST. HERBERT. It has all been so sudden—as the early Victorian heroine was fond of remarking!

GEOFFREY. (_Laughs_.) It has been sudden. We had, none of us, any idea till yesterday that old Bullock was thinking of resigning.

ELIZABETH. (_She has risen and moved towards the fire_.) Won’t it necessitate a bye-election?

(LADY MOGTON _and_ ST. HERBERT _have been thinking it out_. _On the others the word falls like a bombshell_.)

GEOFFREY. (_He turns to her_. _He does not see their faces_.) Yes. But I don’t anticipate a contest. The Conservatives are without a candidate, and I am on good terms with the Labour Party. Perhaps Mr. Hunnable—(_He laughs_, _then_, _turning_, _catches sight of his wife’s face_. _From_ ANNYS _he looks to the others_.)

LADY MOGTON. (_She has risen_.) You haven’t heard, then, of McCaw versus Potts?

GEOFFREY. “McCaw versus Potts!” What the—

ST. HERBERT. Was decided in the House of Lords late yesterday afternoon. Briefly stated, it confers upon women the right of becoming Parliamentary candidates.

GEOFFREY. (_He is staggered_.) You mean—

LADY MOGTON. Having regard to which, we have decided to bring forward a woman candidate to contest the next bye-election.

GEOFFREY. Um! I see.

ANNYS. But we never thought—we never anticipated it would be Geoffrey’s.

LADY MOGTON. I really cannot admit that that alters the case. Geoffrey himself would never dream, I am sure, of asking us to sacrifice our cause to his convenience.

GEOFFREY. No. Of course not. Certainly not.

LADY MOGTON. It is perhaps unfortunate that the candidate selected—

ANNYS. It is quite impossible. Such a dilemma was never dreamed of.

LADY MOGTON. And if not? Is the solidarity of woman—

GEOFFREY. (_Beginning to guess_.) Forgive my impatience; but whom _have_ you selected?

ELIZABETH. (_When she likes she can be quite sweet_.) Your wife. (_He expected it_.) We rather assumed (_she appeals to the others with a gesture_), I think, that the president of the Man’s League for the Extension of the Franchise to Women would regard it as a compliment.

GEOFFREY. (_His dislike of her is already in existence_.) Yes. Very thoughtful.

ANNYS. You must choose some one else.

PHOEBE. But there _is_ no one else.

ANNYS. There’s mamma.

PHOEBE. Mamma’s too heavy.

ANNYS. Well, then, there’s Elizabeth—there’s you!

GEOFFREY. Yes. Why not you? You and I could have a jolly little fight.

LADY MOGTON. This is not a laughing matter. If I could think of any one to take Annys’s place I should not insist. I cannot.

PHOEBE. You see, it mustn’t be a crank.

GEOFFREY. (_He is losing his temper_.) Yes, I suppose that does limit you.

ELIZABETH. And then—thanks to you—Mrs. Chilvers has had such excellent training in politics. It was that, I think, that decided us.

GEOFFREY. (_Convention forbids his strangling her_.) Will somebody kindly introduce me to this lady?

ST. HERBERT. Ah, yes, of course. You don’t know each other, do you? Mr. Geoffrey Chilvers—Mrs. Joseph Spender. Mrs. Spender—Mr. Chilvers, M.P.

ELIZABETH. (_Sweetly_.) Delighted!

GEOFFREY. (_Not_.) Charmed.

LADY MOGTON. (_To_ ANNYS.) I am not indifferent to your difficulty. But the history of woman, my dear Annys, is a history of sacrifice. We give our sons—if necessary, our husbands.

MRS. MOUNTCALM-VILLIERS. (_Affected_.) How true!

ANNYS. But you are not asking me to give him. You are asking me to fight him. I can’t.

LADY MOGTON. You mean you won’t.

ANNYS. You can put it that way if you like. I won’t.

(_A pause_.)

JANET. I thought Mrs. Chilvers had pledged her word.

ELIZABETH. Yes. But without her husband’s consent. So, of course, it doesn’t count.

GEOFFREY. (_He turns on her_.) Why not you—if there must be a fight? Or would it be against your principles?

ELIZABETH. Not in the least.

GEOFFREY. Ah!

ELIZABETH. I would offer myself as a substitute. Only it might seem like coming between husband and wife.

GEOFFREY. (_He turns away with a grunt of disgust_.)

PHOEBE. It’s awfully rough on you, Geoffrey. I can see it from your point of view. But one can’t help remembering the things that you yourself have said.

GEOFFREY. I know; I know. I’ve been going up and down the country, excusing even your excesses on the ground that no movement can force its way to the front without treading on innumerable toes. For me, now, to cry halt merely because it happens to be my own toes that are in the way would be—ridiculous—absurd—would be monstrous. (_Nobody contradicts him_.) You are perfectly justified—if this case means what you say it does—in putting up a candidate against me for East Poplar. Only, naturally, it cannot be Annys. (_He reaches out his hand to where_ ANNYS _stands a little behind him_, _takes her hand_.) Annys and I have fought more than one election. It has been side by side.

ELIZABETH. The lady a little behind.

GEOFFREY. (_He moves away with an expression of deep annoyance_.)

JANET. (_She comes forward_. _She holds forth her hands with a half-appealing_, _half-commanding gesture_. _She almost seems inspired_.) Would it not be so much better if, in this first political contest between man and woman, the opponents were two people honouring one another, loving one another? Would it not show to all the world that man and woman may meet—contend in public life without anger, without scorn? (_There is a pause_. _They stand listening_.) I do not know, but it seems to me that if Mr. Chilvers could bring himself to do this it would be such a big thing—perhaps the most chivalrous thing that a man has ever done to help women. If he would put aside, quite voluntarily, all the man’s privilege—just say to the people, “Now choose—one of us two to serve you. We stand before you, equal, my wife and I.” I don’t know how to put it, but I feel that by merely doing that one thing Mr. Chilvers would solve the whole problem. It would prove that good men are ready to give us of their free accord all that we claim. We should gain our rights, not by warfare, but through love and understanding. Wouldn’t that be—so much better? (_She looks—her hands still appealing—from one to the other_.)

(_Another silence_. _They have all been carried a little off their feet by_ JANET’S _earnestness_.)

ANNYS. (_She touches him_.) What do you think, dear?

GEOFFREY. Yes, there’s a good deal, of course, in what Miss Blake says.

ANNYS. It _would_ be a big thing for you to do.

PHOEBE. You see, whatever happened, the seat would be yours. This case only gives us the right to go to the poll. We are keen upon Annys because she’s our best card, that’s all.

GEOFFREY. Do you wish it?

ANNYS. (_She smiles up at him_.) I’d rather fight you than any one else.

GEOFFREY. You are not afraid that the situation might be—just a trifle comical?

ANNYS. (_Shakes her head_.) No. I think everybody will say it was rather splendid of you.

GEOFFREY. Well, if it will help women.

ANNYS. (_She holds out her hand_. _She is still in exalted mood_.) We will show how man and woman may be drawn nearer to one another by rivalry for noble ends.

ST. HERBERT. (_He shakes_ GEOFFREY’S _somewhat limp hand_.) I envy you. The situation promises to be piquant.

MRS. MOUNTCALM-VILLIERS. It will be a battle of roses.

LADY MOGTON. I must go. I shall see you both again to-morrow. (_She kisses_ GEOFFREY.) This is an historic day.

GEOFFREY. Yes. I daresay we shall all remember it.

LADY MOGTON. (_To_ JANET.) I will get you to come to the station with me. I can give you your instructions in the cab. (_She kisses_ ANNYS.) You have been called to a great work. Be worthy of it.

(_They are all making ready to go_. ANNYS _has rung the bell for_ HAKE.)

JANET. (_To_ ANNYS.) Are you glad?

ANNYS. (_Kisses her_.) You showed me the whole thing in a new light. You were splendid. (_She turns to_ ELIZABETH.) Didn’t I tell you he would convert you?

ELIZABETH. I was wrong to judge all men guilty. There are also—the innocent.

ANNYS. (_For a moment—but a moment only—she is pleased_. _Then the doubtful meaning of_ ELIZABETH’S _words strikes her_.)

(_Enter_ HAKE.)

ANNYS. (_She has to dismiss_ ELIZABETH.) Oh, Hake—(_To_ LADY MOGTON.) You’ll want a cab, won’t you, mamma?

LADY MOGTON. A taxi— Goodbye, everybody.

(_She sails out_.)

MRS. MOUNTCALM-VILLIERS. I have my carriage. (_To_ ELIZABETH.) Can I give you a lift?

ELIZABETH. Thank you. (_To_ GEOFFREY.) We shall meet again.

GEOFFREY. I feel sure of it.

(MRS. MOUNTCALM-VILLIERS _and_ ELIZABETH _go out_.)

PHOEBE. (_To_ HAKE.) Are Miss Blake’s things dry yet?

JANET. They’ll be quite all right, dear. Please don’t trouble. (_She advances a timid hand to_ GEOFFREY.) Goodbye, Mr. Chilvers.

GEOFFREY. (_He takes it smiling_.) Goodbye.

(_She goes out_; HAKE _follows_.)

PHOEBE. Goodbye, old boy. (_They shake hands_.) Don’t you let her walk over you. Make her fight.

ANNYS. (_Laughing_.) Don’t you worry about that.

ST. HERBERT. Would you care to look through McCaw v. Potts? (_He has the papers in his hand_.)

GEOFFREY. I’ll ask you for it when I want it.

PHOEBE. (_At door_.) You’ll be alone this evening?

ANNYS. Yes. Come in to dinner.

PHOEBE. All right. Goodbye.

ST. HERBERT. Goodbye.

(GEOFFREY _and_ ANNYS _answer them_. _They go out_, _closing the door_. GEOFFREY _is by the fire_. ANNYS _comes to him_.)

ANNYS. (_She puts her arms round him_.) You don’t mind?

GEOFFREY. (_He holds her at arms’ length—looking into her eyes and smiling_.) I believe you are looking forward to it.

ANNYS. Do you know how long we have been married? Eight years. And do you know, sir, that all that time we have never had a difference? Don’t you think it will be good for you?

GEOFFREY. Do you know _why_ we have never had a difference? Because you have always had your own way.

ANNYS. Oh!

GEOFFREY. You have got so used to it, you don’t notice it.

ANNYS. Then it will be good for me. I must learn to suffer opposition. (_She laughs_.)

GEOFFREY. You won’t like it.

ANNYS. Do you know, I’m not at all sure that I shan’t. (_Unconsciously they let loose of one another_.) You see, I shall have the right of hitting back. (_Again she laughs_.)

GEOFFREY. (_Also laughingly_.) Is woman going to develop the fighting instinct?

ANNYS. I wonder.

(_A moment’s silence_.)

GEOFFREY. The difficulty in our case is there seems nothing to fight about.

ANNYS. We must think of something. (_Laughs_.)

GEOFFREY. What line are you going to take—what is your argument: why they should vote for you in preference to me?

ANNYS. Simply that I am a woman.

GEOFFREY. My dear child, that won’t be enough. Why should they vote for you merely because you’re a woman?

ANNYS. (_Slightly astonished_.) Because—because women are wanted in public life.

GEOFFREY. Who wants them?

ANNYS. (_More astonished_.) Who? Why—(_it doesn’t seem too clear_.) Why, all of us—you, yourself!

GEOFFREY. I’m not East Poplar.

ANNYS. (_Is puzzled a moment_, _then valiantly_.) I shall ask them to send me to Parliament to represent the interests of their women—and therefore of themselves—the interests of their children.

GEOFFREY. Children! What do you know about children?

(_Another silence_.)

ANNYS. Personally—no. We have had no children of our own, of course. But (_hopefully_) it is a woman’s instinct.

GEOFFREY. Oh, Lord! That’s what the lady said who had buried seven.

ANNYS. (_Her mouth is growing hard_.) Don’t you believe in the right of women to share in the government of the country?

GEOFFREY. Some women. Yes. I can see some capable—

ANNYS. (_Winces_.)

GEOFFREY. —elderly, motherly woman who has brought up a dozen children of her own—who knows the world, being of some real use.

ANNYS. If it comes to that, there must be—I don’t say more “capable,” but more experienced, more fatherly men than yourself.

(_He turns_, _they look at one another_. _His tone almost touched contempt—hers was veiled anger_.)

GEOFFREY. _That’s_ the danger. It may come to a real fight.

ANNYS. (_Upon her also the fear has fallen_.) It must not. (_She flings her arms around him_.) We must show the world that man and woman can meet—contend in public life without anger, without scorn.

GEOFFREY. (_He folds her to him_.) The very words sound ugly, don’t they?

ANNYS. It would be hideous. (_She draws away_.) How long will the election last?

GEOFFREY. Not long. The writ will be issued on Wednesday. Nomination on Monday—polling, I expect, on Saturday. Puts me in mind—I must prepare my election address.

ANNYS. I ought to be getting on with mine, too, I suppose.

GEOFFREY. It ought to be out by to-morrow.

ANNYS. (_With inspiration_.) We’ll do yours first. (_She wonders why he hesitates_.)

GEOFFREY. “We?” Shan’t I have to do it alone—this time?

ANNYS. Alone! Nonsense! How can you?

GEOFFREY. I’m afraid I shall have to try.

ANNYS. Um! I suppose you’re right. What a nuisance! (_She turns away_.) I shan’t like it.

GEOFFREY. (_He moves towards the folding-doors_.) No. It won’t be quite the same thing. Goodbye.

ANNYS. (_She crosses to her desk by the window_. _Not the same instant but the next his_ “_Goodbye_” _strikes her_. _She turns_.) You’re not going out, are you?

GEOFFREY. (_He stops and turns—puzzled at her question_.) No. Only into my study.

ANNYS. You said “Goodbye.”

GEOFFREY. (_Not remembering_.) _I_ did! Must have been thinking of something else. I shall be in here if you want me. (_He goes into the other room_.)

ANNYS. (_She has crossed to her desk_. _She is humming_. _She seats herself_, _takes paper and pen_, _writes_. _Without turning—still writing—she raises her voice_.) Geoffrey! How do you spell “experimental”? One “r” or two?

(_There is no answer_. _Puzzled at the silence_, _she looks round_. _The great folding-doors are closed_. _She stares in front of her_, _thinking_, _then turns again to her work_.)

CURTAIN.

THE SECOND ACT

SCENE:—_Liberal Central Committee Rooms_, _East India Dock Road_, _Poplar_. _A large_, _high room on the first floor of an old-fashioned house_. _Two high windows right_. _A door at back is the main entrance_. _A door left leads to other rooms_. _The walls are papered with election literature_. _Conspicuous among the posters displayed is_ “_A Man for Men_.” “_No Petticoat Government_.” “_Will you be Henpecked_?” _A large_, _round table centre is littered with papers and pamphlets_. _A large desk stands between the windows_. _A settee is against the left wall_.

(_When the curtain rises_, ROSE MERTON (_otherwise_ “GINGER”) _is discovered seated_, _her left arm resting on the table_. _She is a young lady typical of the Cockney slavey type_, _dressed according to the ideas of her class as regards the perfect lady_. _Her hat is characteristic_. _Her gloves_, _her reticule_, _her umbrella—the latter something rather_ “_saucy_”—_are displayed around her_. _She is feeling comfortable and airing her views_. MRS. CHINN _is laying the cloth over a portion of the table_, _with some tea-things_. MRS. CHINN _is a thin_, _narrow-chested lady with thin hands and bony wrists_. _No one since her husband died has ever seen her without her bonnet_. _Its appearance suggests the possibility that she sleeps in it_. _It is black_, _like her dress_. _The whole figure is decent_, _but dingy_.)

GINGER. Wot I say about the question is—

MRS. CHINN. Do you mind moving your arm?

GINGER. Beg pardon. (_She shifts_.) Wot I say is, why not give us the vote and end all the talking?

MRS. CHINN. You think it would have that effect?

GINGER. Well! we don’t want to go on being a nuisance—longer than we can possibly ’elp!

MRS. CHINN. Daresay you’re right. It’s about the time most people stop.