The Methuen Drama Book of Suffrage Plays: Taking the Stage

Might is Right; Free Woman to Free Man; A Woman's Influence; Press Cuttings; Woman This and Women That; The Twelve Pound Look; For One Night Only; Her Will; Su L'Pave; Which; 10 Clowning Street; Anti Suffrage Waxworks

• Verlag: Methuen Drama
• Jahr: 2018
• ISBN:
  9781350083004
• Auflage: 1
• Thema: Letteratura
• Thema: Teatro

The Methuen Drama Book of Suffrage Plays: Taking the Stage features a wide variety of short pieces and one-act plays written by female and male suffragist writers between 1908-1914. Spanning different styles and genres they explore many issues that interested feminist and suffragist campaigners such as: the value of women's work, domestic and economic inequality, visibility in public space, direct action and its consequences, sexual double standards, and the influence of the media on public opinion. Edited and introduced by Dr Naomi Paxton, the anthology is brimming with in-depth knowledge, photographs and contextual information of the period making for an informative and inspirational volume that's perfect for both performance and study.

George Bernard Shaw

Press Cuttings

A topical sketch compiled from the editorial and correspondence columns of the daily papers during the women’s war in 1909

Press Cuttings was first performed at the Royal Court Theatre on 9 July 1909.

Characters

General Mitchener

A Voice in the Street

The Orderly

Balsquith

Mrs Farrell

Mrs Banger

Lady Corinthia Fanshawe

The forenoon of the first of April, three years hence.

General Mitchener is at his writing table in the War Office, opening letters. On his left is the fireplace, with a fire burning. On his right, against the opposite wall is a standing desk with an office stool. The door is in the wall behind him, half way between the table and the desk. The table is not quite in the middle of the room: it is nearer to the hearthrug than to the desk. There is a chair at each end of it for persons having business with the general. There is a telephone on the table. Long silence.

A Voice from the Street Votes for Women!

The General starts convulsively; snatches a revolver from a drawer, and listens in an agony of apprehension. Nothing happens. He puts the revolver back, ashamed; wipes his brow; and resumes his work. He is startled afresh by the entry of an Orderly. This Orderly is an unsoldierly, slovenly, discontented young man.

Mitchener Oh, it’s only you. Well?

The Orderly Another one, Sir. She’s chained herself.

Mitchener Chained herself? How? To what? We’ve taken away the railings and everything that a chain can be passed through.

The Orderly We forgot the doorscraper, Sir. She lay down on the flags and got the chain through before she started hollerin’. She’s lyin’ there now; and she downfaces us that you’ve got the key of the padlock in a letter in a buff envelope, and that you’ll see her when you open it.

Mitchener She’s mad. Have the scraper dug up and let her go home with it hanging round her neck.

The Orderly There is a buff envelope there, Sir.

Mitchener You’re all afraid of these women. (Picking the letter up.) It does seem to have a key in it. (He opens the letter, and takes out a key and a note.) ‘Dear Mitch’ – Well, I’m dashed!

The Orderly Yes Sir.

Mitchener What do you mean by Yes Sir?

The Orderly Well, you said you was dashed, Sir; and you did look if – you’ll excuse my saying it, Sir – well, you looked it.

Mitchener (who has been reading the letter, and is too astonished to attend to The Orderly’s reply) This is a letter from the Prime Minister asking me to release the woman with this key if she padlocks herself, and to have her shown up and see her at once.

The Orderly (tremulously) Don’t do it, governor.

Mitchener (angrily) How often have I ordered you not to address me as governor. Remember that you are a soldier and not a vulgar civilian. Remember also that when a man enters the army he leaves fear behind him. Here’s the key. Unlock her and show her up.

The Orderly Me unlock her! I dursent. Lord knows what she’d do to me.

Mitchener (pepperily, rising) Obey your orders instantly, Sir, and don’t presume to argue. Even if she kills you, it is your duty to die for your country. Right about face. March. (The Orderly goes out, trembling.)

The Voice Outside Votes for Women! Votes for Women! Votes for Women!

Mitchener (mimicking her) Votes for Women! Votes for Women! Votes for Women! (In his natural voice.) Votes for children! Votes for babies! Votes for monkeys! (He posts himself on the hearthrug, and awaits the enemy.)

The Orderly (outside) In you go. (He pushes a panting Suffraget into the room.) The person, Sir. (He withdraws.)

The Suffraget takes off her tailor-made skirt and reveals a pair of fashionable trousers.­

Mitchener (horrified) Stop, madam. What are you doing? You must not undress in my presence. I protest. Not even your letter from the Prime Minister –

The Suffraget My dear Mitchener: I AM the Prime Minister. (He tears off his hat and cloak; throws them on the desk; and confronts the General in the ordinary costume of a Cabinet minister.)

Mitchener Good heavens! Balsquith!

Balsquith (throwing himself into Mitchener’s chair) Yes: it is indeed Balsquith. It has come to this: that the only way that the Prime Minister of England can get from Downing Street to the War Office is by assuming this disguise; shrieking ‘VOTES FOR WOMEN’; and chaining himself to your doorscraper. They were at the corner in force. They cheered me. Bellachristina herself was there. She shook my hand and told me to say I was a vegetarian, as the diet was better in Holloway for vegetarians.

Mitchener Why didn’t you telephone?

Balsquith They tap the telephone. Every switchboard in London is in their hands, or in those of their young men.

Mitchener Where on Earth did you get that dress? I hope it’s not a French dress!

Balsquith Great Heavens, no. My wife isn’t allowed even to put on her gloves with French chalk. Everything’s labelled ‘Made in Camberwell’.

Mitchener As a Tariff Reformer, I must say quite right. (Balsquith has a strong controversial impulse and is evidently going to dispute this profession of faith.) No matter. Don’t argue. What have you come for?

Balsquith Sandstone has resigned.

Mitchener (amazed) Old Red resigned!

Balsquith Resigned.

Mitchener But how? Why? Oh, impossible! The proclamation of martial law last Tuesday made Sandstone virtually Dictator in the metropolis, and to resign now is flat desertion.

Balsquith Yes, yes, my dear Mitchener; I know all that as well as you do: I argued with him until I was black in the face and he so red about the neck that if I had gone on he would have burst. He is furious because we have abandoned his plan.

Mitchener But you accepted it unconditionally.

Balsquith Yes, before we knew what it was. It was unworkable, you know.

Mitchener I don’t know. Why is it unworkable?

Balsquith I mean the part about drawing a cordon round Westminster at a distance of two miles, and turning all women out of it.

Mitchener A masterpiece of strategy. Let me explain. The Suffragets are a very small body; but they are numerous enough to be troublesome – even dangerous – when they are all concentrated in one place – say in Parliament Square. But by making a two-mile radius and pushing them beyond it, you scatter their attack over a circular line twelve miles long. A superb piece of tactics. Just what Wellington would have done.

Balsquith But the women won’t go.

Mitchener Nonsense: they must go.

Balsquith They won’t.

Mitchener What does Sandstone say?

Balsquith He says: Shoot them down.

Mitchener Of course.

Balsquith You’re not serious?

Mitchener I’m perfectly serious.

Balsquith But you can’t shoot them down! Women, you know!

Mitchener (straddling confi...