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A May morning in Geneva, in a meagrely equipped office with
secondhand furniture, much the worse for wear, consisting of a
dingy writing table with an old typewriter on it in the middle of
the room, a revolving chair for the typist, an old press which has
not been painted or varnished for many years, and three chairs for
visitors against the wall near the door.  The stove, an undecorated
iron one of the plainest sort, designed rather for central heating
in a cellar than for an inhabited apartment, is to the typist's
right, the press facing it at the opposite side on the typist's
left.  The door is beside the press.  The window is behind the
typist.


A young Englishwoman is seated in the revolving chair.  From
the state of the table she seems to have been working at the
compilation of a card index, as there are cards scattered about,
and an open case to put them in, also a pile of foolscap from which
she has been copying the card inscriptions.  But at present she is
not at work.  She is smoking and reading an illustrated magazine
with her heels on the table.  A thermos flask, a cup and saucer,
and a packet of cigarettes are beside her on a sliding shelf drawn
out from the table.  She is a self-satisfied young person, fairly
attractive and well aware of it.  Her dress, though smartly cut, is
factory made; and her speech and manners are London suburban.


Somebody knocks at the door.  She hastily takes her heels off the
Office of the secretary of the League of Nations.  Except for the
table; jumps up; throws her cigarette into the stove; snatches the
small writing table at which the secretary is seated there is no
things off the sliding shelf and hides them in the press; finally
office furniture.  The walls are covered with engraved prints or
resumes her seat and looks as busy as possible.
enlarged photographs of kings, presidents, and dictators, mostly in
military uniforms.  Above these bellicose pictures the cornice is
decorated with a row of plaster doves in low relief.  There is one
large picture in oils, representing a lifesize Peace, with tiny
figures, also in military uniforms, kneeling round her feet and
bowing their heads piously beneath the wreath which she offers
them.  This picture faces the secretary from the other side of the
room as he sits at his table with his back to the window presenting
his left profile to anyone entering from the door, which is in the
middle of the wall between them.  A suite of half a dozen chairs is
ranged round the walls, except one, which stands near the writing
table for the convenience of people interviewing the secretary.


He is a disillusioned official with a habit of dogged patience
acquired in the course of interviews with distinguished statesmen
of different nations, all in a condition of invincible ignorance as
to the spirit of Geneva and the constitution of the League of
Nations, and each with a national axe to grind.  On this occasion
he is rather exceptionally careworn.  One pities him, as he is of a
refined type, and, one guesses, began as a Genevan idealist.  Age
fifty or thereabouts.


THE TYPIST [calling]  Entrez, s'il vous plait.
There is a telephone on the table which he is at present using.


A middle-aged gentleman of distinguished appearance, with a blond
beard and moustache, top hatted, frock coated, and gloved, comes
in.  He contemplates the room and the young woman with evident
surprise.


HE.  Pardon, mademoiselle: I seek the office of the International
THE SECRETARY.  Yes: send her up instantly.  Remind me of her name.
Committee for Intellectual Cooperation.
What?! . . . Ammonia?  Nonsense! that cant be her name.  Spell
it . . . V E? . . .  Oh, _B_ E.  Do you mean to say that her name
is Begonia?  Begonia Brown? . . .  Farcical.


SHE.  Yes: thats quite all right.  Take a seat, please.
He replaces the receiver as Begonia enters.  She is the
Intellectual Co-operation typist.  She is in walking dress, cheap,
but very smart.


HE [hesitating]  Thank you; but my business is of great importance:
THE SECRETARY.  Miss Brown?
I must see your chief.  This is not the head office, is it?


SHE.  No: the head office is in Paris. This is all there is here.
BEGONIA [with her best smile] Yes.
Not much of a place, is it?


HE.  Well, I must confess that after visiting the magnificent
THE SECRETARY.  Sit down.
palace of the International Labor Office and the new quarters of
the Secretariat, I expected to find the Committee for Intellectual
Co-operation lodged in some imposingly monumental structure.


SHE. Oh, isnt it scandalous?  I wish youd write to the papers
BEGONIA [complying] Kew [short for Thank you].
about it.  Do please sit down.


HE.  Thank you. [He is about to take one of the chairs from the
THE SECRETARY [gravely] You have heard the news, no doubt?
wall].


SHE.  No, not that one: one of its legs isnt safe: it's there only
BEGONIA.  Oh yes.  Jack Palamedes has won the dancing tournament.
for show.  Will you please take the other?
I had ten francs on him; and I have won a hundred.  Had you
anything on?


HE. Can the Committee not afford you a new chair?
THE SECRETARY [still more gravely] I am afraid you will think me
very ignorant, Miss Brown; but I have never heard of Mr Palamedes.


SHE.  It cant afford anything.  The intellectual budget is the
BEGONIA.  Fancy that! He's the talk of Geneva, I assure you.
interest on two million paper francs that one is glad to get
threepence for: they used to be tuppence. So here I am in one
rotten little room on the third floor of a tumbledown old house
full of rats.  And as to my salary I should be ashamed to name it.
A Church charity would be ashamed to pay it.


HE.  I am utterly astounded.  [He takes a sound chair from the
THE SECRETARY.  There are other items of news, Miss Brown.  Germany
wall; places it near the office table; and sits down]. The
has withdrawn from the League.
intellectual co-operation of sixty nations must be a very extensive
business.  How can it possibly be conducted in this bare little
place?


SHE.  Oh, I conduct it all right.  It's never in a hurry, you know.
BEGONIA.  And a good riddance, if you ask me.  My father lost a lot
of money through the war.  Otherwise--you wont mind my telling you--
youd never have got me slaving at a typewriter here for my living.


HE.  But really--pardon me if I am taking too much of your time--
THE SECRETARY.  No doubt.  A further item is that the British
Empire has declared war on Russia.


SHE.  Oh, thats quite all right. I'm only too glad to have a bit
BEGONIA.  Well, what could you expect us to do with those awful
of chat with somebody.  Nobody ever comes in here: people dont seem
Bolshies? We should have done it long ago.  But thank goodness
to know that the Committee exists.
we're safe in Geneva, you and I.


HE.  Do you mean that you have nothing to do?
THE SECRETARY.  We are safe enough everywhere, so far.  The war is
one of sanctions only.


SHE.  Oh no.  I tell you I have to do all the intellectual co-
BEGONIA.  More shame for us, say I.  I should give those Bolshies
operation.  I have to do it singlehanded too: I havnt even an
the bayonet: thats the way to talk to scum of that sort.  I cant
office boy to help me.  And theres no end to the work.  If it
contain myself when I think of all the murder and slavery of them
werent, as I say, that theres no hurry about it, I should never get
Soviets--[correcting herself] those Soviets.
through it.  Just look here at this nice little job theyve given
me!  A card index of all the universities with the names and
addresses of their bursars and their vice chancellors.  And there
is a correspondence about the protection of professional titles
that takes up half my time.


HE.  And do they call that intellectual co-operation?
THE SECRETARY.  In consequence Japan has declared war on Russia and
is therefore in military alliance with Britain.  And the result of
that is that Australia, New Zealand and Canada have repudiated the
war and formed an anti-Japanese alliance with the United States
under the title of the New British Federation.  South Africa may
join them at any moment.


SHE. Well, what else would you call it?
BEGONIA [flushing with indignation] Do you mean that theyve broken
up our dear Empire?


HE.  It is mere compilation. How are the intellectual giants who
THE SECRETARY.  They have said nothing about that.
form your committee bringing the enormous dynamic force of their
brains, their prestige, their authority, to bear on the destinies
of the nations?  What are they doing to correct the mistakes of our
ignorant politicians?


SHE.  Well, we have their names on our notepaper, you know.  What
BEGONIA.  Oh, then thats quite all right.  You know, when I was at
more can they do?  You cant expect them to sit in this little hole
school I was chosen five times to recite on Empire Day; and in my
talking to people. I have never seen one of them.
very first year, when I was the smallest child there, I presented
the bouquet to King George's sister, who came to our prize giving.
Say a word against the Empire, and you have finished with Begonia
Brown.


HE.  So they leave it all to you?
THE SECRETARY.  Then you went to school, did you?


SHE.  Oh, I wouldnt say all.  Theres the head office in Paris, you
BEGONIA.  Well, of course: what do you take me for? I went to
know, and some offices in other countries. I suppose they do their
school for seven years and never missed a single day.  I got
bit; and anyhow we all do a lot of writing to oneanother.  But I
fourteen prizes for regular attendance.
must say it's as dull as ditchwater.  When I took the job I thought
it was going to be interesting, and that I'd see all the great men.
I am ambitious, you know: I won a London County Council scholarship.
I wanted a job that would draw out my faculties, if you understand
me.  But theres nothing to do here that any common typist couldnt
do.  And nobody ever comes near the place.  Oh, it is dull.


HE.  Shall I give you an interesting job, mademoiselle?  One that
THE SECRETARY.  Good God!
would get you appreciated and perhaps a little talked about?


SHE.  I'll just jump at it--if it is all right.
BEGONIA.  What did you say?


HE.  How all right?
THE SECRETARY.  Nothing.  I was about to tell you what has happened
in Quetzalcopolis, the chief seaport of the Earthly Paradise.


SHE.  Morally, you know.  No hanky panky.  I am respectable; and I
BEGONIA.  I know.  In Central America, isnt it?
mean to keep respectable.


HE.  I pledge you my word that my intentions are completely
THE SECRETARY.  Yes.  The mob there has attacked the British
honorable.
Consulate, and torn down the British flag.


SHE.  Well, what about the pay? And how long will the job last?
BEGONIA [rising in a fury] Insulted the British flag!!!
The work here may be dull; and the pay is just short of starvation;
but I have the appointment for 25 years certain; and I darent give
it up for anything chancy.  You dont know what it is to be out of a
job.


HE.  I shall not ask you to give up your post here.  On the
THE SECRETARY.  They have also burnt down three convents and two
contrary, it is essential that you should keep it.  But I think I
churches.
can make it more interesting for you.  And I should of course make
you a suitable present if at any time you found that your
emoluments here were insufficient.


SHE.  They are.  But I mustnt take bribes, you know.
BEGONIA.  Thats nothing: theyre only Catholic churches.  But do you
mean to say that they have dared to touch the British flag?


HE.  You need not.  Any friendly service I may be able to render
THE SECRETARY.  They have.  Fortunately it was after hours and the
will be entirely independent of your official work here.
staff had gone home.  Otherwise they would assuredly have been
massacred.


SHE.  Look here: I dont half like this.  Whats the game?
BEGONIA.  Dirty swine!  I hope the British fleet will not leave a
stone standing or a nigger alive in their beastly seaport.  Thatll
teach them.


THE JEW.  I must begin by explaining that I am a Jew.
THE SECRETARY.  There is only one other trifle of news.  The little
Dominion of Jacksonsland has declared itself an independent
republic.


SHE.  I dont believe you.  You dont look like one.
BEGONIA.  It ought to be ashamed of itself.  Republics are a low
lot.  But dont you be anxious about that: the republicans will soon
be kicked out.  The people may be misled for a while; but they
always come back to king and country.


THE JEW.  I am not a primitive Hittite.  You cannot draw my nose in
THE SECRETARY.  And now, Miss Brown, I must ask you whether you
profile by simply writing down the number six.  My hair is not
fully realize that all this is your doing?
black, nor do I wear it in excessively oiled ringlets.  I have all
the marks of a German blond.  German is my native language: in fact
I am in every sense a German.  But I worship in the synagogue; and
when I worship I put my hat on, whereas a German takes it off.  On
this ground they class me as a non-Aryan, which is nonsense, as
there is no such thing as an Aryan.


SHE.  I'm so glad to hear you say that.  The Germans here say that
BEGONIA.  Mine!
I am an Aryan; but I tell them I am nothing of the kind: I'm an
Englishwoman.  Not a common Englishwoman, of course: I'm a
Camberwell woman; and though the west end may turn up its nose at
Camberwell, Camberwell is better than Peckham any day in the week.


THE JEW.  No doubt.  I have not been there.
THE SECRETARY.  Yours and nobody else's.  In every one of these
cases, it was your hand that started the series of political
convulsions which may end in the destruction of civilization.


SHE. I never could abide Peckham people. They are disliked
BEGONIA [flattered] Really? How?
everywhere.  It's instinctive, somehow.  Havnt you noticed it?


THE JEW.  All peoples are disliked in the lump.  The English are
THE SECRETARY.  Those letters that you sent to the Court of
disliked: the Germans are disliked: the French are disliked.  The
International Justice at the Hague--
Protestants are disliked; and all their hundreds of sects dislike
oneanother.  So are the Catholics, the Jesuits, the Freemasons.
You tell me that the inhabitants of Peckham are disliked: no doubt
they deserve it.


SHE.  They do.
BEGONIA.  Oh, of course. Yes.  Fancy that!


THE JEW.  Some of the greatest men have disliked the human race.
THE SECRETARY.  But did you not know what you were doing?  You
But for Noah, its Creator would have drowned it.  Can we deny that
conducted the correspondence with very remarkable ability--more, I
He had good reasons for disliking it? Can I deny that there are
confess, than I should have given you credit for.  Do you mean to
good reasons for disliking Jews?  On the contrary, I dislike most
tell me that you did not foresee the consequences of your action?
of them myself.
That you did not even read the newspapers to see what was
happening?


SHE.  Oh, dont say that.  Ive known lots of quite nice Jews.  What
BEGONIA.  I dont read political news: it's so dry.  However, I seem
I say is why pick on the Jews, as if they were any worse than other
to be having a big success; and I wont pretend I am not gratified.
people?


THE JEW.  That is precisely my business here today.  I find you
THE SECRETARY.  Unfortunately the Powers do not consider it a
most intelligent--most sympathetic.
success.  They are blaming me for it.


SHE.  Come now! none of that. Whats the game?
BEGONIA.  Oh, if there is any blame I am ready to take it all on
myself.


THE JEW.  I have been assaulted, plundered, and driven from my
THE SECRETARY.  That is very magnanimous of you, Miss Brown.
native soil by its responsible ruler.  I, as a ruined individual,
can do nothing.  But the League of Nations can act through its
Committee for Intellectual Co-operation.  The Committee can act
through the permanent court of International Justice at the Hague,
which is also an organ of the League. My business here is to ask
the Committee to apply to the court for a warrant against the
responsible ruler.  I charge him with assault and battery,
burglary--


SHE.  Burglary! Did they break into your house?
BEGONIA.  Not so magnanimous either: thank you all the same.  I
tell you I back the Empire; and the Empire will back me. So dont
be uneasy.


THE JEW.  I cannot speak of it.  Everything I treasured. Wrecked!
THE SECRETARY.  You are very possibly right.  And now may I ask you
Smashed! Defiled!  Never will I forgive: never can I forge
a personal question? How did you become interested in the League
of Nations? How did you get this post of yours, which has placed
the world's destiny so unexpectedly in your hands?


SHE.  But why didnt you call the police?
BEGONIA.  Was I interested in the League?  Let me see.  You know
that there is a Society called the League of Nations Union, dont
you?


THE JEW.  Mademoiselle: the police did it.  The Government did it.
THE SECRETARY.  I do.  I shudder whenever I think of it.
The Dictator who controls the police is responsible before Europe!
before civilization!  I look to the League of Nations for redress.
It alone can call unrighteous rulers to account.  The initiative
must be taken by its Committee for Intellectual Co-operation: that
is, for the moment, by you, mademoiselle.


SHE.  But what can I do? I cant go out and collar your unrighteous
BEGONIA.  Oh, theres no harm in it.  I'd never heard of it until
ruler.
last year, when they opened a branch in Camberwell with a whist
drive.  A friend gave me a ticket for it.  It was opened by the
Conservative candidate: an innocent young lad rolling in money.  He
saw that I was a cut above the other girls there, and picked me for
his partner when he had to dance. I told him I'd won a County
Council scholarship and was educated and knew shorthand and a bit
of French and all that, and that I was looking out for a job.  His
people fixed me up for Geneva all right.  A perfect gentleman I
must say: never asked so much as a kiss.  I was disappointed.


THE JEW.  No, mademoiselle.  What you must do is to write to the
THE SECRETARY.  Disappointed at his not kissing you?
International Court, calling on it to issue a warrant for the
arrest of my oppressor on a charge of attempting to exterminate a
section of the human race.


SHE.  Well, it seems like taking a lot on myself, doesnt it?
BEGONIA.  Oh no: there were plenty of kisses going from better
looking chaps.  But he was a bit of a sucker; and I thought he had
intentions; and of course he would have been a jolly good catch for
me.  But when his people got wind of it they packed him off for a
tour round the Empire, and got me this job here--to keep me out of
his way, I suppose.  Anyhow here I am, you see.


THE JEW.  Not at all.  You will be acting, not for yourself, but for
THE SECRETARY.  Were you examined as to your knowledge and
the intellect of Europe.  I assure you it is the correct course.
understanding of the Covenant of the League, and its constitution?


SHE.  But I'm not sure that I know how to write a letter with all
BEGONIA.  No.  They didnt need to examine me to find out that I was
those police court things in it.
educated.  I had lots of prizes and certificates; and there was my
L.C.C. scholarship.  You see, I have such a good memory:
examinations are no trouble to me.  Theres a book in the office
about the League.  I tried to read it; but it was such dry stuff I
went to sleep over it.


THE JEW. It is quite simple.  But if you will allow me I will
THE SECRETARY [rising] Well, Miss Brown, I am glad to have made
draft the letter for you.
your acquaintance, and delighted to learn that though you have
produced a first class political crisis, including what promises to
be a world war, and made an amazing change in the constitution of
the British Empire all in the course of a single morning's work,
you are still in high spirits and in fact rather proud of yourself.


SHE.  Oh I say, Mister Jew, I dont like this.
BEGONIA [she has also risen]  Oh, I am not a bit proud; and I'm
quite used to being a success.  You know, although I was always at
the top of my class at school, I never pretended to be clever.
Silly clever, I call it.  At first I was frightened of the girls
that went in for being clever and having original ideas and
all that sort of crankiness.  But I beat them easily in the
examinations; and they never got anywhere.  That gave me confidence.
Wherever I go I always find that lots of people think as I do.  The
best sort of people always do: the real ladies and gentlemen, you
know.  The others are oddities and outsiders.  If you want to know
what real English public opinion is, keep your eye on me.  I'm not a
bit afraid of war: remember that England has never lost a battle,
and that it does no harm to remind the foreigners of it when they
get out of hand.  Good morning.  So pleased to have met you.


THE JEW.  Then write the letter yourself.  I am sure you will do it
They shake hands; and he goes to the door and opens it for her.
perfectly. It will be an opportunity for you to shew the Committee
She goes out much pleased with herself.
what you are made of.


SHE.  Well, look here.  I have a particular friend, an American
THE SECRETARY [ruminating dazedly]  And thats England!  [The
journalist.  Would you mind if I shewed him your draft before I
telephone rings.  He returns to the table to attend to it].
send it off?
Yes? . . .  Which Foreign Secretary?  Every hole and corner in the
Empire has its own Foreign Secretary now.  Do you mean the British
Foreign Secretary, Sir Orpheus Midlander? . . .  Well, why didnt
you say so? Shew him up at once.


THE JEW.  An American journalist!  Excellent, excellent.  By all
Sir Orpheus comes in.  He is a very welldressed gentleman of fifty
means submit my draft to him and ask him to correct it if
or thereabouts, genial in manner, quickwitted in conversation,
necessary.  My English is German English, and may leave something
altogether a pleasant and popular personality.
to be desired.


SHE.  Yes: thatll be splendid.  Thank you ever so much.
THE SECRETARY.  Do sit down.  I cant say how I feel about your being
dragged here all the way from London in Derby week.


THE JEW. Not at all.  [Rising]  I will bring the draft in the
SIR O. [sitting]  Well, my friend, it's you who have dragged me.
course of the afternoon. Au revoir, then
And I hope you wont mind my asking you what on earth you think you
have been doing? What induced you to do it?


SHE.  Au revoir.
THE SECRETARY.  I didnt do it.  It was done by the Committee for
Intellectual Co-operation.


They shake hands cordially.  Meanwhile the door is opened by an
SIR O.  The what??!  I never heard of such a body.
obstinate-looking middle-aged man of respectable but not
aristocratic appearance, speaking English like a shopkeeper from
the provinces, or perhaps, by emigration, the dominions.


NEWCOMER.  Can I see the boss, miss?
THE SECRETARY.  Neither did I until this business was sprung on me.
Nobody ever heard of it.  But I find now that it is part of the
League, and that its members are tremendous swells with European
reputations.  Theyve all published translations from the Greek or
discovered new planets or something of that sort.


SHE [with haughty nonchalance in a would-be distinguished accent
SIR O. Ah yes: outside politics: I see.  But we cant have literary
startlingly unlike her unaffected deference to the gentlemanlike
people interfering in foreign affairs.  And they must have held
Jew] I am sorry.  Our chiefs are scattered over Europe, very
meetings before taking such an outrageous step as this.  Why were
eminent persons, you know.  Can I do anything?
we not told? We'd have squashed them at once.


NEWCOMER [looking at the Jewish gentleman] I'm afraid I'm
THE SECRETARY. They are quite innocent: they know no more about it
interrupting.
than I did.  The whole thing was done by a young woman named
Begonia Brown.


THE JEW.  Not at all: my business is finished.  [Clicking his heels
SIR O.  Begonia Brown!  But this is appalling.  I shall be
and bowing]  Until the afternoon, mademoiselle.  Monsieur--[He bows
personally compromised.
to the newcomer, and goes out].


SHE.  You can sit down.
THE SECRETARY.  You!  How?


NEWCOMER.  I will keep you only a minute, miss.  [He sits and takes
SIR O.  This woman--it must be the same woman; for there cant be
out some notes he has made].
another female with such a name in the world--she's engaged to my
nephew.


SHE.  Be as quick as you can, please.  I am busy this morning.
THE SECRETARY.  She told me about it.  But I had no idea the man
was your nephew. I see how awkward it is for you.  Did you ever
talk to her about it?


NEWCOMER.  Yes: you have the brainwork of the world on your
SIR O.  I!  I never set eyes on her in my life.  I remember her
shoulders here.  When any of the nations goes off the rails, this
ridiculous name: thats all.
is the place to have it put back. Thats so, isnt it?


SHE [with aplomb]  Undoubtedly.
THE SECRETARY.  Were you in the habit of discussing foreign affairs
with your nephew?


NEWCOMER.  Well, it's like this.  In my country weve had an
SIR O.  With Benjy!  You might as well discuss Einstein's general
election.  We thought it lay between our usual people: the National
theory of relativity with a blue behinded ape.  I havnt exchanged
Party and the Labor Party; but it was won by an upstart kind of
twenty words with the boy since I tipped him when he was going from
chap who called himself a Business Democrat.  He got a clear
Eton to Oxford.
majority over the Nationals and the Labor Party; so it was up to
him to form a Government. And what do you suppose the fellow did
when he became Prime Minister?


SHE [bored] Cant imagine, I'm sure.
THE SECRETARY. Then I cant understand it.  Her correspondence with
the Hague Court has been conducted with remarkable ability and in
first-rate style. The woman herself is quite incapable of it.
There must be somebody behind her.  Can it be your nephew?


NEWCOMER.  He said he had been returned to power as a business
SIR O.  If, as you say, the work shews political ability and
democrat, and that the business part of it meant that he was not to
presentable style, you may accept my assurance that Sue's boy has
waste time, but to get the nation's work done as quickly as
nothing to do with it.  Besides, he is at present in Singapore,
possible.
where the native dancing girls are irresistible.


SHE. Quite, quite.  Nothing to complain of in that, is there?
The telephone rings.


NEWCOMER.  Wait.  I'm going to astonish you. He said the country
THE SECRETARY.  Excuse me.  Yes? . . .  Hold on a moment.  [To Sir
had decided by its democratic vote that it should be governed by
O.] The Senior Judge of the Court of International Justice at the
him and his party for the next five years, and that no opposition
Hague is downstairs. Hadnt you better see him?
could be tolerated. He said the defeated minority must step down
and out instead of staying there to obstruct and delay and annoy
him.  Of course the Opposition werent going to stand that: they
refused to leave the Chamber.  So he adjourned the House until next
day; and when the Opposition turned up the police wouldnt let them
in.  Most of them couldnt get as far as the doors, because the
Prime Minister had organized a body of young men called the Clean
Shirts, to help the police.


SHE.  Well?
SIR O.  By all means.  Most opportune.


NEWCOMER. Well!!!  Is that all you have to say to me?
THE SECRETARY [into the telephone]  Send him up.


SHE.  What do you expect me to say?  It seems all right to me.
SIR O.  Have you had any correspondence about this business?
It's what any man of business would do.  Wouldnt you?


NEWCOMER.  Of course I should do it in business; but this is
THE SECRETARY.  Correspondence!!!  I havnt read one tenth of it.
politics.
The Abyssinian war was a holiday job in comparison.  Weve never had
anything like it before.


SHE.  Well! arnt politics business?
The Senior Judge enters.  He is a Dutchman, much younger than a
British judge: under forty, in fact, but very grave and every inch
a judge.


NEWCOMER.  Of course theyre not.  Just the opposite.  You know
THE SECRETARY.  I am desolate at having brought your honor all the
that, dont you?
way from the Hague.  A word from you would have brought me there
and saved you the trouble.  Have you met the British Foreign
Secretary, Sir Orpheus Midlander?


SHE.  Oh, quite, quite.
JUDGE.  I have not had that pleasure.  How do you do, Sir
Midlander?


NEWCOMER.  What I say is, business methods are business methods;
SIR O.  How do you do?
and parliamentary methods are parliamentary methods.


SHE [brightly]  "And never the twain shall meet," as Kipling puts
They shake hands whilst the Secretary places a chair for the judge
it.
in the middle of the room, between his table and Sir Orpheus.  They
all sit down.


NEWCOMER.  No: I dont hold with Kipling.  Too imperialist for me.
JUDGE.  I thought it best to come.  The extraordinary feature of
I'm a democrat.
this affair is that I have communicated with all the members of the
Intellectual Committee; and every one of them denies any knowledge
of it.  Most of them did not know that they are members.


SHE.  But not a business democrat, if I follow you.
SIR O.  Do you mean to say that it is all a hoax?


NEWCOMER.  No, no: not a business democrat.  A proper democrat.
JUDGE.  It may be that someone was hoaxing the Court.  But now that
I'm all for the rights of minorities.
the applications for warrants have been made public, the Court must
take them seriously.  Otherwise it would cut a ridiculous figure in
the eyes of Europe.


SHE.  But I always thought that democracy meant the right of the
SIR O.  But surely such a procedure was never contemplated when the
majority to have its way.
Powers joined the League?


NEWCOMER.  Oh no: that would be the end of all liberty.  You have
JUDGE.  I do not think anything was contemplated when the Powers
nothing to say against liberty, I hope.
joined the League.  They signed the Covenant without reading it, to
oblige President Wilson.  The United States then refused to sign it
to disoblige President Wilson, also without reading it.  Since then
the Powers have behaved in every respect as if the League did not
exist, except when they could use it for their own purposes.


SHE.  I have nothing to say against anything.  I am not here to
SIR O. [naïvely] But how else could they use it?
discuss politics with everyone who walks into my office.  What do
you want?


NEWCOMER.  Well, heres a Prime Minister committing high treason and
JUDGE.  They could use it to maintain justice and order between the
rebellion and breach of privilege; levying armed forces against the
nations.
Crown; violating the constitution; setting up a dictatorship and
obstructing the lawful ingress of duly elected members to the
legislative Chamber. Whats to be done with him?


SHE.  Quite simple.  I shall apply to the International Court at
SIR O.  There is nothing we desire more.  The British Empire stands
the Hague for a warrant for his arrest on all those charges.  You
for justice and order.  But I must tell you that the British
can look in at the end of the week, when the answer from the Hague
Foreign Office would take a very grave view of any attempt on the
will have arrived.  You will supply me with the man's name and the
part of the Court to do anything without consulting us.  I need not
particulars--
remind you that without us you have no powers.  You have no police
to execute your warrants.  You cant put the Powers in the dock: you
havnt got a dock.


NEWCOMER [putting his notes on the table before her]  Here they
JUDGE.  We have a court room at the Hague which can easily be
are, miss.  By Gosh, thats a splendid idea.
provided with a dock if you consider such a construction necessary,
which I do not.  We have employees to whom we can assign police
duties to any necessary extent.


SHE.  Thank you. That is all.  Good morning.
SIR O.  Pooh! You cant be serious.  You have no jurisdiction.


NEWCOMER [rising and going to the door] Well, you know how to do
JUDGE.  You mean that our jurisdiction is undefined.  That means
business here: theres no mistake about that.  Good morning, miss.
that our jurisdiction is what we choose to make it.  You are
familiar with what you call judge-made law in England. Well, Sir
Midlander, the judges of the Court of International Justice are not
nonentities.  We have waited a long time for a case to set us in
motion.  You have provided us with four cases; and you may depend
on us to make the most of them.  They will affirm our existence,
which is hardly known yet.  They will exercise our power, which is
hardly felt yet.  All we needed was a cause célèbre; and Miss
Begonia Brown has found several for us very opportunely.


As he is going out the door opens in his face; and a widow comes
SIR O.  My dear sir: Miss Brown is a nobody.
in: a Creole lady of about forty, with the remains of a gorgeous
and opulent southern beauty.  Her imposing style and dress at once
reduce the young lady of the office to nervous abjection.


THE WIDOW.  Are you the president of the Intellectual Co-operation
JUDGE.  Unless the highest court can be set in motion by the
Committee of the League of Nations?
humblest individual justice is a mockery.


NEWCOMER.  No, maam.  This lady will do all you require [he goes
SIR O.  Of course I agree with that--in principle.  Still, you
out].
know, there are people you can take into court and people you cant.
Your experience at the bar--


THE WIDOW. Am I to take that seriously?  My business is important.
JUDGE [interrupting him sharply] I have had no experience at the
I came here to place it before a body of persons of European
bar.  Please remember that you are not now in England, where judges
distinction.  I am not prepared to discuss it with an irresponsible
are only worn-out barristers, most of whom have forgotten any sense
young woman.
of law they may ever have acquired.


SHE.  I am afraid I dont look the part, do I?  I am only the staff,
SIR O. How very odd! I own I was surprised to find the judicial
so to speak.  Still, anything I can do I shall be most happy.
bench represented by so young a man; and I am afraid I must add
that I prefer our British system.  We should have had no trouble
with a British judge.


THE WIDOW.  But where are your chiefs?
JUDGE.  Why should you have any trouble with me?  I am simply a
Judge, first and last.  To me it is a continual trouble and scandal
that modern statesmen are slipping back, one after another, from
the reign of law based on the eternal principle of justice, to the
maintenance of governments set up by successful demagogues or
victorious soldiers, each of whom has his proscription list of
enemies whom he imprisons, exiles, or murders at his pleasure until
he is himself overcome by an abler rival and duly proscribed,
imprisoned, exiled or assassinated in his turn.  Such a state of
things is abhorrent to me.  I have spent years in trying to devise
some judicial procedure by which these law-breakers can be brought
to justice.  Well, the Intellectual Co-operation Committee--of the
existence of which I must confess I was entirely ignorant--has
found the procedure; and the Court will back it up to the utmost of
its powers.


SHE.  Ah, there you have me.  They live all over the world, as you
SIR O.  I am afraid you are a bit of an idealist.
might say.


THE WIDOW.  But do they not come here to attend to their business?
JUDGE.  Necessarily.  Justice is an ideal; and I am a judge.  What,
may I ask, are you?


SHE.  Well, you see, there is really nothing for them to attend to.
SIR O.  I!  Oh, only a much harassed Foreign Secretary.  You see my
It's only intellectual business, you know.
young friend--if you will allow me to call you so--justice, as you
say, is an ideal, and a very fine ideal too; but what I have to
deal with is Power; and Power is often a devilishly ugly thing.  If
any of these demagogue dictators issues a warrant for your arrest
or even an order for your execution, you will be arrested and shot
the moment you set foot in their country. You may even be
kidnapped and carried there: remember Napoleon and the Duc
d'Enghien.  But if you issue a warrant or pronounce a sentence
against one of them Europe will just laugh at you, because you have
no power.  It will be as futile as a decree of excommunication.


THE WIDOW.  But do they not take part in the Assembly of the
JUDGE.  Would you like to be excommunicated?
League?


SHE.  Some of them have been, once.  Nobody ever goes to the
SIR O.  Hardly a serious question, is it?
Assembly twice if they can help it.


THE WIDOW.  But I must see somebody--somebody of importance.
JUDGE.  Very serious.


SHE.  Well, I'm sorry. Theres nobody but me.  I can do whatever is
SIR O.  My dear sir, it couldnt happen.
necessary.  Did you by any chance want a warrant from the
International Court at the Hague?


THE WIDOW.  Yes: that is exactly what I do want.  A death warrant.
JUDGE.  Pardon me: it could.


SHE.  A what?!!
SIR O. [obstinately] Pardon me: it couldnt.  Look at the thing
practically.  To begin with I am not a Roman Catholic.  I am a
member of the Church of England; and down at my place in the
country the Church living is in my gift.  Without my subscription
the churchwardens could not make both ends meet.  The rector has no
society except what he gets in my house.


THE WIDOW.  A death warrant.  I will sit down, if you will allow me.
JUDGE.  The rector is a freeholder.  If you are a notoriously evil
liver, he can refuse to admit you to Communion.


SHE.  Oh please--
SIR O.  But I am not a notoriously evil liver.  If the rector
suggested such a thing I should have him out of his rectory and in
a lunatic asylum before the end of the week.


THE WIDOW [sitting down] Do you see that? [She takes an automatic
JUDGE. Suppose the rector were prepared to risk that! Suppose the
pistol from her bag, and throws it on the table].
war of 1914 were renewed, and you were responsible for sending the
young men of your country to drop bombs on the capital cities of
Europe!  Suppose your rector, as a Christian priest, took the view
that you were in a condition of mortal sin and refused you
Communion!  Suppose, if you wish, that you had him locked up as a
lunatic!  Would you like it?


SHE.  Oh, thats not allowed in Geneva. Put it up quick.  Somebody
SIR O.  Suppose the villagers burnt down his rectory and ducked him
might come in.
in the horse pond to teach him a little British patriotism! How
would he like it?


THE WIDOW [replacing the pistol in her bag] This is the most
JUDGE. Martyrdom has its attractions for some natures.  But my
absurd place.  In my country everybody carries a gun.
question was not whether he would like it, but whether you would
like it.


SHE.  What country, may I ask?
SIR O.  I should treat it with contempt.


THE WIDOW.  The Republic of the Earthly Paradise.
JUDGE.  No doubt; but would you like it?


SHE.  My mother has a school prize called The Earthly Paradise.
SIR O.  Oh, come!  Really!  Really!
What a coincidence!


THE WIDOW.  Then you know that the Earthly Paradise is one of the
JUDGE.  Believe me, Sir Midlander, you would not like it.  And if
leading States in the world in culture and purity of race, and that
the International Court, moved by the Committee for Intellectual
its capital contained more than two thousand white inhabitants
Co-operation, were to deliver an adverse judgment on you, you would
before the last revolution.  There must be still at least fifteen
not like it.  The man whom the Hague condemns will be an
hundred left.
uncomfortable man.  The State which it finds to be in the wrong
will be an uncomfortable State.


SHE.  But is it a member of the League?
SIR O.  But you cant enforce anything.  You have no sanctions.


THE WIDOW.  Of course it is.  And allow me to remind you that by
JUDGE.  What, exactly, do you mean by sanctions, Sir Midlander?
its veto it can put a stop to all action by the League until its
affairs are properly attended to.


SHE. Can it? I didnt know that.  Of course I shall be only too
SIR O.  I mean what everybody means.  Sanctions, you know. That is
pleased to apply for a warrant; but I'd rather not call it a death
plain English.  Oil, for instance.
warrant.  Death warrant sounds a bit thick, if you understand me.
All you need do is to give me a list of the charges you make
against--well, against whoever it is.


THE WIDOW.  Simply one charge of the wilful murder of my late
JUDGE.  Castor oil?
husband by the President of the Earthly Paradise.


SHE.  Surely if a president kills anyone it's an execution; but if
SIR O.  No no: motor oil.  The stuff you run your aeroplanes on.
anyone kills a president it's an assassination.


THE WIDOW.  And is not that just the state of things the League of
JUDGE.  Motor oil is a sanction when you withhold it.  Castor oil
Nations is here to put a stop to?
is a sanction when you administer it.  Is there any other
difference?


SHE.  Oh, dont ask me.  All I know about the League is that it pays
SIR O. [smiling] Well, that has never occurred to me before; but
my salary.  Just give me the gentleman's name and who he murdered.
now you mention it there is certainly an analogy.  But in England
Murder stories are thrillingly interesting.
the castor oil business is just one of those things that are not
done.  Castor oil is indecent. Motor oil is all right.


THE WIDOW.  You would not think so if you lived in a country where
JUDGE.  Well, you need not fear that the Hague will resort to any
there is at least one murder in every family.
other sanction than the sacredness of justice.  It will affirm this
sacredness and make the necessary applications.  It is the business
of a judge to see that there is no wrong without a remedy.  Your
Committee for Intellectual Co-operation has been appealed to by
four persons who have suffered grievous wrongs.  It has very
properly referred them to the International Court.  As president of
that court it is my business to find a remedy for their wrongs; and
I shall do so to the best of my ability even if my decisions should
form the beginning of a new code of international law and be quite
unprecedented.


SHE.  What an awful place!  Is it as barbarous as that?
SIR O. But, my dear sir, what practical steps do you propose to
take? What steps can you take?


THE WIDOW.  Barbarous!  Certainly not.  The Earthly Paradise is
JUDGE.  I have already taken them.  I have fixed a day for the
the most civilized country in the world.  Its constitution is
trial of the cases, and summoned the plaintiffs and defendants to
absolutely democratic: every president must swear to observe it in
attend the court.
every particular.  The Church is abolished: no moral authority is
recognized except that of the people's will.  The president and
parliament are elected by adult suffrage every two years.  So are
all the judges and all the officials, even the road sweepers.  All
these reforms, which have made The Earthly Paradise the most
advanced member of the League of Nations, were introduced by my
late husband the sixth president.  He observed the constitution
strictly.  The elections were conducted with absolute integrity.
The ballot was secret.  The people felt free for the first time in
their lives.  Immediately after the elections the budget was passed
providing for two years.  My husband then prorogued the Parliament
until the end of that period, and governed the country according to
his own ideas whilst the people enjoyed themselves and made money
in their own ways without any political disturbances or arguments.
He was re-elected three times, and is now known in the Paradise as
the father of his country.


SHE.  But you said he was murdered, and that the president murdered
THE SECRETARY.  But the defendants are the responsible heads of
him.  How could that be if he was the president? He couldnt murder
sovereign States.  Do you suppose for a moment that they will obey
himself.
your summons?


THE WIDOW.  Unhappily he had certain weaknesses.  He was an
JUDGE.  We shall see.  That, in fact, is the object of my
affectionate husband: I may even say an uxorious one; but he was
experiment.  We shall see. [He rises] And now I must ask you to
very far from being faithful to me.  When he abolished the Church
excuse me.  Sir Midlander: our interview has been most instructive
he would have abolished marriage also if public opinion would have
to me as to the attitude of your country.  Mr Secretary: you are
stood for it.  And he was much too indulgent to his enemies.
very good to have spared me so much of your valuable time.  Good
Naturally, whenever he won an election his opponent raised an army
afternoon, gentlemen.  [He goes out].
and attempted a revolution; for we are a high spirited race and do
not submit to the insult of defeat at the polls.  But my husband
was a military genius.  He had no difficulty in putting down these
revolutions; but instead of having his opponent shot in the proper
and customary way, he pardoned him and challenged him to try again
as often as he pleased.  I urged him again and again not to trifle
with his own safety in this way.  Useless: he would not listen to
me.  At last I found out the reason.  He was carrying on an
intrigue with his opponent's wife, my best friend.  I had to shoot
her--shoot her dead--my dearest friend [she is overcome with
emotion].


SHE.  Oh, you shouldnt have done that.  That was going a little too
SIR O.  What are we to do with men like that?
far, wasnt it?


THE WIDOW.  Public opinion obliged me to do it as a selfrespecting
THE SECRETARY.  What are they going to do with us? That is the
wife and mother. God knows I did not want to do it: I loved her: I
question we have to face now.
would have let her have ten husbands if I had had them to give.
But what can you do against the etiquette of your class?  My
brothers had to fight duels and kill their best friends because it
was etiquette.


SHE.  But where were the police? Werent you tried for it?
SIR O.  Pooh! They cant do anything, you know, except make
speeches and write articles.  They are free to do that in England.
British liberty is a most useful safety valve.


THE WIDOW.  Of course I was tried for it; but I pleaded the
THE SECRETARY.  I was on his honor's side myself once, until my
unwritten law and was acquitted.  Unfortunately the scandal
official experience here taught me how hopeless it is to knock
destroyed my husband's popularity.  He was defeated at the next
supernationalism--
election by the man he had so foolishly spared.  Instead of raising
an army to avenge this outrage, my husband, crushed by the loss of
his mistress, just moped at home until they came and shot him.
They had come to shoot me; and [with a fresh burst of tears] I wish
to Heaven they had; but I was out at the time; so they thought they
might as well shoot my husband as there was nobody else to shoot.


SHE.  What a dreadful thing for you!
SIR O.  Super what?  Did you say supernaturalism?


THE WIDOW.  Not at all.  It served him right, absolutely. He never
THE SECRETARY.  No.  Supernationalism.
spoke to me after I had to kill the woman we both loved more than
we loved oneanother.  I believe he would have been only too glad if
they had shot me; and I dont blame him.  What is the use of the
League of Nations if it cannot put a stop to such horrors?


SHE.  Well, it's not the League's business, is it?
SIR O.  Oh, I see.  Internationalism.


THE WIDOW.  Not the League's business! Do you realize, young
THE SECRETARY.  No.  Internationalism is nonsense. Pushing all the
woman, that if the League does not bring the murderer of my husband
nations into Geneva is like throwing all the fishes into the same
to justice my son will be obliged to take up a blood feud and shoot
pond: they just begin eating oneanother. We need something higher
the murderer with his own hands, though they were at the same
than nationalism: a genuine political and social Catholicism.  How
school and are devoted to oneanother? It is against Nature,
are you to get that from these patriots, with their national
against God: if your committee does not stop it I will shoot every
anthems and flags and dreams of war and conquest rubbed into them
member of it, and you too.  [She rises].  Excuse me.  I can bear no
from their childhood?  The organization of nations is the
more of this: I shall faint unless I get into the fresh air.  [She
organization of world war.  If two men want to fight how do you
takes papers and a card from her bag and throws them on the table].
prevent them? By keeping them apart, not by bringing them
There are the particulars.  This is my card. Good morning.  [She
together.  When the nations kept apart war was an occasional and
goes as abruptly as she came in].
exceptional thing: now the League hangs over Europe like a
perpetual warcloud.


SHE.  [rising]  Good--
SIR O.  Well, dont throw it at my head as if I disagreed with you.


But the widow has gone and the young office lady, greatly upset,
THE SECRETARY.  I beg your pardon.  I am worried by this crisis.
drops back into her seat with a prolonged Well!!!!!
Let us talk business.  What are we to do with Begonia Brown?


A smart young American gentleman looks in.
SIR O.  Do with her!  Squash her, impudent little slut.  She is
nobody: she doesnt matter.


THE GENTLEMAN.  Say, baby: who is the old girl in the mantilla?
The conversation is abruptly broken by the irruption of Begonia
Carmen's grandmother, eh?  [He sits on the table edge, facing her,
herself in a state of ungovernable excitement.
on her right].


SHE.  A murderess.  Her dearest friend.  She had to. Horrible.
BEGONIA.  Have you heard the news? [Seeing Sir Orpheus] Oh, I beg
Theyve shot her husband. She says she will shoot me unless the
your pardon: I didnt know you were engaged.
League stops it.


HE.  Grand!  Fine!
THE SECRETARY.  This is Sir Orpheus Midlander, the British Foreign
Secretary, Miss Brown.


SHE.  Is that all you care? Well, look at my morning's work!
BEGONIA.  Oh, most pleased to meet you, Sir Orpheus.  I know your
Persecutions, revolutions, murders, all sorts.  The office has been
nephew. We are quite dear friends [she shakes Sir O.'s hand
full of people all the morning. We shant have it all to ourselves
effusively].  Have you heard the news? Lord Middlesex is dead.
any more.


HE.  No, baby; but I shall have some dough to spend.  I have been
SIR O.  Indeed?  Let me see. Middlesex? I dont attach any
kicking my heels here for months faking news for my people when
significance to the news.  He must have been a backwoodsman.
there was no news.  And here you hand me a mouthful. What a scoop
Remind me about him.
for me, honey!  You are a peach.  [He kisses her].


Someone knocks at the door.
BEGONIA.  His son is Lord Newcross.


SHE.  Shsh!  Someone knocking.
SIR O.  Oh!  Then Newcross goes to the Lords to succeed his father.
That means a by-election in Camberwell.


They separate hastily, he going to the stove and she composing
BEGONIA.  Yes; and the Conservatives want me to stand.
herself in her chair.


HE.  Come in! Entrez! Herein!
BOTH GENTLEMEN.  What!!!


A gaitered English bishop enters.  He is old, soft, gentle and
BEGONIA.  Dont you think I ought to?  I have been a lot in the
rather infirm.
papers lately.  It's six hundred a year for me if I get in.  I
shall be the patriotic candidate; and the Labor vote will be a
split vote; for the Communists are putting up a candidate against
the Labor man; and the Liberals are contesting the seat as well.
It will be just a walk-over for me.


THE BISHOP.  Excuse me; but does anyone here speak English?
SIR O.  But my nephew is the Government candidate.  Has he not told
you so?


HE [putting on all the style he is capable of] My native language,
BEGONIA.  Oh, thats quite all right. He has withdrawn and proposed
my lord.  Also this lady's. [Exchange of bows].  Will you take a
me.  He'll pay my election expenses.
pew, my lord?


BISHOP [sitting]  Thank you.  Your stairs are somewhat trying to
SIR O.  I thought he was in Singapore.
me: I am not so young as I was; and they tell me I must be careful
not to overstrain my heart.  The journey to Geneva is a terrible
one for a man of my years.  Nothing but the gravest emergency could
have forced me to undertake it.


HE.  Is the emergency one in which we can have the honor of
BEGONIA.  So he is.  It's all been done by cable.  Ive just this
assisting you, my lord?
minute heard it.  You see, dear Billikins is not very bright; and
he'd better not be here to muddle everything up.  [She sits].


BISHOP.  Your advice would be invaluable to me; for I really dont
SIR O.  But will his committee accept you?
know what to do or where to go here.  I am met with indifference--
with apathy--when I reveal a state of things that threatens the
very existence of civilized society, of religion, of the family, of
the purity of womanhood, and even, they tell me, of our commercial
prosperity.  Are people mad?  Dont they know?  Dont they care?


HE.  My! my! my! [He takes a chair to the end of the table nearest
BEGONIA.  Only too glad to get a candidate that will do them
the stove] Pray be seated, my lord. What has happened?
credit. You see, no matter how carefully they coached Bill for the
public meetings he made the most awful exhibition of himself. And
he knew it, poor lamb, and would never have gone in for it if his
mother hadnt made him.


BISHOP [sinking into the chair]  Sir: they are actually preaching
SIR O.  And do you think you will be able to make a better
Communism in my diocese.  Communism!!!  My butler, who has been in
impression at the meetings?  You are not a politician, are you?
the palace for forty years, a most devoted and respectable man,
tells me that my footman--I am the only bishop in England who can
afford to keep a footman now--that my footman is a cell.


HE.  A sell? You mean that he has disappointed you?
BEGONIA.  The same as anybody else, I suppose.  I shall pick up all
the politics I need when I get into the House; and I shall get into
the House because there are lots of people in Camberwell who think
as I do.  You bet I shall romp in at the head of the poll.  I am
quite excited about it.  [To the Secretary] You were so kind to me
just now that I thought you had a right to know before anyone else.
[To Sir O.]  And it's splendid news for the Government, isnt it,
Sir Orpheus?


BISHOP.  No: not that sort of cell.  C. E. double L.  A communist
SIR O.  Thrilling, Miss Brown.
cell.  Like a bee in a hive. Planted on me by the Communists to
make their dreadful propaganda in my household!  And my grandson at
Oxford has joined a Communist club.  The Union--the Oxford Union--
has raised the red flag.  It is dreadful.  And my granddaughter a
nudist!  I was graciously allowed to introduce my daughters to good
Queen Victoria.  If she could see my granddaughter she would call
the police.  Is it any wonder that I have a weak heart?  Shock
after shock.  My own footman, son of the most respectable parents,
and actually an Anglo-Catholic!


HE.  I can hardly believe it, my lord.  What times we are living
BEGONIA.  Oh, do call me Begonia.  We're as good as related, arnt
in!
we?


SHE [with her most official air] Surely this is a case for the
SIR O. I am afraid so.
International Court at the Hague, my lord.


BISHOP.  Yes, yes.  An invaluable suggestion.  The Court must stop
BEGONIA.  I am sure to get in, arnt I?
the Bolshies from disseminating their horrible doctrines in
England.  It is in the treaties.


He is interrupted by the entrance of a very smart Russian
SIR O.  If your three opponents are foolish enough to go to the
gentleman, whom he receives with pleased recognition.
poll, it's a cert.


BISHOP [rising] Ah, my dear sir, we meet again.  [To the others]
BEGONIA.  Yes: isnt it? I wonder would you mind lending me my fare
I had the pleasure of making this gentleman's acquaintance last
to London.  I dont like taking money off Billikins.  I will pay you
night at my hotel.  His interest in the Church of England kept us
when my ship comes home: the six hundred a year, you know.
up talking long after my usual hour for retirement.  [Shaking his
hand warmly]  How do you do, my dear friend? how do you do?


RUSSIAN.  Quite well, thank you, my lord.  Am I interrupting your
SIR O.  Will a five pound note be any use [he produces one]?
business?


BISHOP.  No no no no: I beg you to remain.  You will help: you will
BEGONIA [taking it]  Thanks ever so much: itll just see me through.
sympathize.
And now I must toddle off to my little constituency.  I have barely
time to pack for the night train.  Goodbye, Mr Secretary [They
shake hands]; and [to Sir O. effusively] thanks ever so much, and
au revoir.  [She goes out].


RUSSIAN.  You are very kind, my lord: I am quite at your service.
THE SECRETARY. What an amazing young woman! You really think she
will get in?


BISHOP [murmuring gratefully as he resumes his seat] Thank you.
SIR O.  Of course she will.  She has courage, sincerity, good
Thank you.
looks, and big publicity as the Geneva heroine. Everything that
our voters love.


RUSSIAN.  Let me introduce myself.  I am Commissar Posky of the
THE SECRETARY.  But she hasnt a political idea in her head.
Sovnarkom and Politbureau, Soviet delegate to the League Council.


BISHOP [aghast, staggering to his feet] You are a Bolshevik!
SIR O. She need not have.  The Whips will pilot her through the
division lobby until she knows the way.  She need not know anything
else.


COMMISSAR.  Assuredly.
THE SECRETARY.  But she is a complete ignoramus.  She will give
herself away every time she opens her mouth.


The Bishop faints.  General concern.  The men rush to him.
SIR O.  Not at all.  She will say pluckily and sincerely just what
she feels and thinks.  You heard her say that there are lots of
people in Camberwell who feel and think as she does.  Well, the
House of Commons is exactly like Camberwell in that respect.


COMMISSAR.  Do not lift him yet.  He will recover best as he is.
THE SECRETARY.  But can you contemplate such a state of things
without dismay?


SHE.  I have some iced lemonade in my thermos.  Shall I give him
SIR O.  Of course I can.  I contemplated my nephew's candidature
some?
without dismay.


BISHOP [supine] Where am I? Has anything happened?
THE SECRETARY. The world is mad. Quite mad.


HE.  You are in the office of the Intellectual Co-operation
SIR O.  Pooh! you need a cup of tea.  Nothing wrong with the world:
Committee in Geneva.  You have had a slight heart attack.
nothing whatever.


COMMISSAR.  Lie still, comrade.  You will be quite yourself
THE SECRETARY [resignedly sitting down and speaking into the
presently.
telephone]  Tea for two, please.
 
BISHOP [sitting up]  It is not my heart.  [To the Commissar]  It is
moral shock.  You presented yourself to me yesterday as a
cultivated and humane gentleman, interested in the Church of
England.  And now it turns out that you are a Bolshie.  What right
had you to practise such a cruel imposture on me?  [He rises: the
Commissar helps him]  No: I can rise without assistance, thank you.
[He attempts to do so, but collapses into the arms of the
Commissar].
 
COMMISSAR.  Steady, comrade.
 
BISHOP [regaining his seat with the Commissar's assistance]  Again
I must thank you.  But I shudder at the touch of your bloodstained
hands.
 
COMMISSAR.  My hands are not bloodstained, comrade.  I have not
imposed on you.  You have not quite recovered yet, I think.  I am
your friend of last night.  Dont you recognize me?
 
BISHOP.  A Bolshie!  If I had known, sir, I should have repudiated
your advances with abhorrence.
 
HE [again posting himself at the stove]  Russia is a member of the
League, my lord.  This gentleman's standing here is the same as
that of the British Foreign Secretary.
 
BISHOP [intensely]  Never.  Never.
 
SHE [airily]  And what can we do for you, Mr Posky?  I'm sorry I
cant offer you a chair.  That one isnt safe.
 
COMMISSAR.  Pray dont mention it.  My business will take only a
moment.  As you know, the Soviet Government has gone as far as
possible in agreeing not to countenance or subsidize any propaganda
of Communism which takes the form of a political conspiracy to
overthrow the British National Government.
 
BISHOP.  And in violation of that agreement you have corrupted my
footman and changed him from an honest and respectable young
Englishman into a Cell.
 
COMMISSAR.  Have we?  I know nothing of your footman.  If he is
intelligent enough to become a Communist, as so many famous
Englishmen did long before the Russian revolution, we cannot
prevent him.  But we do not employ him as our agent nor support him
financially in any way.
 
HE.  But what, then, is your difficulty, Comrade Posky?
 
COMMISSAR.  We have just discovered that there is a most dangerous
organization at work in Russia, financed from the British Isles,
having for its object the overthrow of the Soviet system and the
substitution of the Church of England and the British Constitution.
 
BISHOP.  And why not, sir?  Why not?  Could any object be more
desirable, more natural?  Would you in your blind hatred of British
institutions and of all liberty of thought and speech, make it a
crime to advocate a system which is universally admitted to be the
the best and freest in the world?
 
COMMISSAR.  We do not think so.  And as the obligation to refrain
from this sort of propaganda is reciprocal, you are bound by it
just as we are.
 
HE.  But what is this seditious organization you have just
discovered?
 
COMMISSAR.  It is called the Society for the Propagation of the
Gospel in Foreign Parts.  It has agents everywhere.  They call
themselves missionaries.
 
BISHOP.  I cannot bear this: the man is insane.  I subscribe to the
Society almost beyond my means.  It is a body of the highest
respectability and piety.
 
COMMISSAR.  You are misinformed: its doctrines are of the most
subversive kind.  They have penetrated to my own household.  My
wife is a busy professional woman, and my time is taken up
altogether by public work.  We are absolutely dependent for our
domestic work on our housekeeper Feodorovna Ballyboushka.  We were
ideally happy with this excellent woman for years.  In her youth
she was a udarnik, what you call a shock worker.
 
BISHOP.  You are all shock workers in Russia now.  You have seen
the effect on me?
 
COMMISSAR.  That was in the early days of the revolution, when she
was young and ardent.  Now she is elderly; and her retirement into
domestic service suits her years and her helpful and affectionate
temperament.  Two months ago an extraordinary change came over her.
She refused to do any work that was not immediately necessary, on
the ground that the end of the world is at hand.  She declared that
she was in a condition which she described as "saved," and
interrupted my work continually with attempts to save me.  She had
long fits of crying because she could not bear the thought of my
wife spending eternity in hell.  She accused the Soviets of being
the hornets prophesied in the Book of Revelation.  We were about to
have her certified as insane--most reluctantly; for we loved our
dear Ballyboushka--when we discovered that she had been hypnotized
by this illegal Society.  I warned our Secret Police, formerly
known to you as the Gay Pay Ooh.  They followed up the clue and
arrested four missionaries.
 
BISHOP.  And shot them.  Christian martyrs!  All who fall into the
hands of the terrible Gay Pay Ooh are shot at once, without trial,
without the ministrations of the Church.  But I will have a
memorial service said for them.  To that extent at last I can
defeat your Godless tyranny.
 
COMMISSAR.  You are quite mistaken: they have not been shot.  They
will be sent back to England: that is all.
 
BISHOP [passionately]  What right had you to arrest them?  How dare
you arrest Englishmen?  How dare you persecute religion?
 
COMMISSAR.  They have been very patiently examined by our official
psychologists, who report that they can discover nothing that could
reasonably be called religion in their minds.  They are obsessed
with tribal superstitions of the most barbarous kind.  They believe
in human sacrifices, in what they call the remission of sins by the
shedding of blood.  No man's life would be safe in Russia if such
doctrines were propagated there.
 
BISHOP.  But you dont understand.  Oh, what dreadful ignorance!
 
COMMISSAR.  Let us pass on to another point.  Our police have found
a secret document of your State Church, called the Thirty-nine
Articles.
 
BISHOP.  Secret!  It is in the Prayer Book!
 
COMMISSAR.  It is not read in church.  That fact speaks for itself.
Our police have found most of the articles incomprehensible; but
there is one, the eighteenth, which declares that all Russians are
to be held accursed.  How would you like it if our chief cultural
institution, endowed by our government, the Komintern, were to send
its agents into England to teach that every Englishman is to be
held accursed?
 
BISHOP.  But surely, surely, you would not compare the Komintern to
the Church of England!!
 
COMMISSAR.  Comrade Bishop: the Komintern is the State Church in
Russia exactly as the Church of England is the State Church in
Britain.
 
The Bishop slides to the floor in another faint.
 
SHE.  Oh!  He's gone off again.  Shall I get my thermos?
 
HE.  I should break things to him more gently, Mr Posky.  People
die of shock.  He maynt recover next time.  In fact, he maynt
recover this time.
 
COMMISSAR.  What am I to do?  I have said nothing that could
possibly shock any educated reasonable person; but this man does
not seem to know what sort of world he is living in.
 
SHE.  He's an English bishop, you know.
 
COMMISSAR.  Well?  Is he not a rational human being?
 
SHE.  Oh no: nothing as common as that.  I tell you he's a bishop.
 
BISHOP.  Where am I?  Why am I lying on the floor?  What has
happened?
 
HE.  You are in the Intellectual Co-operation Bureau in Geneva; and
you have just been told that the Russian Komintern is analogous to
the Church of England.
 
BISHOP [springing to his feet unaided, his eyes blazing]  I still
have life enough left in me to deny it.  Karl Marx--Antichrist--
said that the sweet and ennobling consolations of our faith are
opium given to the poor to enable them to endure the hardships of
that state of life to which it has pleased God to call them.  Does
your Komintern teach that blasphemy or does it not?
 
COMMISSAR.  Impossible.  There are no poor in Russia.
 
BISHOP.  Oh! [he drops dead].
 
HE [feeling his pulse]  I am afraid you have shocked him once too
often, Comrade.  His pulse has stopped.  He is dead.
 
POSKY.  Was he ever alive?  To me he was incredible.
 
SHE.  I suppose my thermos is of no use now.  Shall I ring up a
doctor?
 
HE.  I think you had better ring up the police.  But I say, Mr
Posky, what a scoop!
 
COMMISSAR.  A scoop?  I do not understand.  What is a scoop?
 
HE.  Read all the European papers tomorrow and youll see.

Revision as of 23:14, 13 May 2008

Act I Geneva
Act II
written by George Bernard Shaw 		Act III





Office of the secretary of the League of Nations. Except for the small writing table at which the secretary is seated there is no office furniture. The walls are covered with engraved prints or enlarged photographs of kings, presidents, and dictators, mostly in military uniforms. Above these bellicose pictures the cornice is decorated with a row of plaster doves in low relief. There is one large picture in oils, representing a lifesize Peace, with tiny figures, also in military uniforms, kneeling round her feet and bowing their heads piously beneath the wreath which she offers them. This picture faces the secretary from the other side of the room as he sits at his table with his back to the window presenting his left profile to anyone entering from the door, which is in the middle of the wall between them. A suite of half a dozen chairs is ranged round the walls, except one, which stands near the writing table for the convenience of people interviewing the secretary.

He is a disillusioned official with a habit of dogged patience acquired in the course of interviews with distinguished statesmen of different nations, all in a condition of invincible ignorance as to the spirit of Geneva and the constitution of the League of Nations, and each with a national axe to grind. On this occasion he is rather exceptionally careworn. One pities him, as he is of a refined type, and, one guesses, began as a Genevan idealist. Age fifty or thereabouts.

There is a telephone on the table which he is at present using.


THE SECRETARY. Yes: send her up instantly. Remind me of her name. What?! . . . Ammonia? Nonsense! that cant be her name. Spell it . . . V E? . . . Oh, _B_ E. Do you mean to say that her name is Begonia? Begonia Brown? . . . Farcical.

He replaces the receiver as Begonia enters. She is the Intellectual Co-operation typist. She is in walking dress, cheap, but very smart.

THE SECRETARY. Miss Brown?

BEGONIA [with her best smile] Yes.

THE SECRETARY. Sit down.

BEGONIA [complying] Kew [short for Thank you].

THE SECRETARY [gravely] You have heard the news, no doubt?

BEGONIA. Oh yes. Jack Palamedes has won the dancing tournament. I had ten francs on him; and I have won a hundred. Had you anything on?

THE SECRETARY [still more gravely] I am afraid you will think me very ignorant, Miss Brown; but I have never heard of Mr Palamedes.

BEGONIA. Fancy that! He's the talk of Geneva, I assure you.

THE SECRETARY. There are other items of news, Miss Brown. Germany has withdrawn from the League.

BEGONIA. And a good riddance, if you ask me. My father lost a lot of money through the war. Otherwise--you wont mind my telling you-- youd never have got me slaving at a typewriter here for my living.

THE SECRETARY. No doubt. A further item is that the British Empire has declared war on Russia.

BEGONIA. Well, what could you expect us to do with those awful Bolshies? We should have done it long ago. But thank goodness we're safe in Geneva, you and I.

THE SECRETARY. We are safe enough everywhere, so far. The war is one of sanctions only.

BEGONIA. More shame for us, say I. I should give those Bolshies the bayonet: thats the way to talk to scum of that sort. I cant contain myself when I think of all the murder and slavery of them Soviets--[correcting herself] those Soviets.

THE SECRETARY. In consequence Japan has declared war on Russia and is therefore in military alliance with Britain. And the result of that is that Australia, New Zealand and Canada have repudiated the war and formed an anti-Japanese alliance with the United States under the title of the New British Federation. South Africa may join them at any moment.

BEGONIA [flushing with indignation] Do you mean that theyve broken up our dear Empire?

THE SECRETARY. They have said nothing about that.

BEGONIA. Oh, then thats quite all right. You know, when I was at school I was chosen five times to recite on Empire Day; and in my very first year, when I was the smallest child there, I presented the bouquet to King George's sister, who came to our prize giving. Say a word against the Empire, and you have finished with Begonia Brown.

THE SECRETARY. Then you went to school, did you?

BEGONIA. Well, of course: what do you take me for? I went to school for seven years and never missed a single day. I got fourteen prizes for regular attendance.

THE SECRETARY. Good God!

BEGONIA. What did you say?

THE SECRETARY. Nothing. I was about to tell you what has happened in Quetzalcopolis, the chief seaport of the Earthly Paradise.

BEGONIA. I know. In Central America, isnt it?

THE SECRETARY. Yes. The mob there has attacked the British Consulate, and torn down the British flag.

BEGONIA [rising in a fury] Insulted the British flag!!!

THE SECRETARY. They have also burnt down three convents and two churches.

BEGONIA. Thats nothing: theyre only Catholic churches. But do you mean to say that they have dared to touch the British flag?

THE SECRETARY. They have. Fortunately it was after hours and the staff had gone home. Otherwise they would assuredly have been massacred.

BEGONIA. Dirty swine! I hope the British fleet will not leave a stone standing or a nigger alive in their beastly seaport. Thatll teach them.

THE SECRETARY. There is only one other trifle of news. The little Dominion of Jacksonsland has declared itself an independent republic.

BEGONIA. It ought to be ashamed of itself. Republics are a low lot. But dont you be anxious about that: the republicans will soon be kicked out. The people may be misled for a while; but they always come back to king and country.

THE SECRETARY. And now, Miss Brown, I must ask you whether you fully realize that all this is your doing?

BEGONIA. Mine!

THE SECRETARY. Yours and nobody else's. In every one of these cases, it was your hand that started the series of political convulsions which may end in the destruction of civilization.

BEGONIA [flattered] Really? How?

THE SECRETARY. Those letters that you sent to the Court of International Justice at the Hague--

BEGONIA. Oh, of course. Yes. Fancy that!

THE SECRETARY. But did you not know what you were doing? You conducted the correspondence with very remarkable ability--more, I confess, than I should have given you credit for. Do you mean to tell me that you did not foresee the consequences of your action? That you did not even read the newspapers to see what was happening?

BEGONIA. I dont read political news: it's so dry. However, I seem to be having a big success; and I wont pretend I am not gratified.

THE SECRETARY. Unfortunately the Powers do not consider it a success. They are blaming me for it.

BEGONIA. Oh, if there is any blame I am ready to take it all on myself.

THE SECRETARY. That is very magnanimous of you, Miss Brown.

BEGONIA. Not so magnanimous either: thank you all the same. I tell you I back the Empire; and the Empire will back me. So dont be uneasy.

THE SECRETARY. You are very possibly right. And now may I ask you a personal question? How did you become interested in the League of Nations? How did you get this post of yours, which has placed the world's destiny so unexpectedly in your hands?

BEGONIA. Was I interested in the League? Let me see. You know that there is a Society called the League of Nations Union, dont you?

THE SECRETARY. I do. I shudder whenever I think of it.

BEGONIA. Oh, theres no harm in it. I'd never heard of it until last year, when they opened a branch in Camberwell with a whist drive. A friend gave me a ticket for it. It was opened by the Conservative candidate: an innocent young lad rolling in money. He saw that I was a cut above the other girls there, and picked me for his partner when he had to dance. I told him I'd won a County Council scholarship and was educated and knew shorthand and a bit of French and all that, and that I was looking out for a job. His people fixed me up for Geneva all right. A perfect gentleman I must say: never asked so much as a kiss. I was disappointed.

THE SECRETARY. Disappointed at his not kissing you?

BEGONIA. Oh no: there were plenty of kisses going from better looking chaps. But he was a bit of a sucker; and I thought he had intentions; and of course he would have been a jolly good catch for me. But when his people got wind of it they packed him off for a tour round the Empire, and got me this job here--to keep me out of his way, I suppose. Anyhow here I am, you see.

THE SECRETARY. Were you examined as to your knowledge and understanding of the Covenant of the League, and its constitution?

BEGONIA. No. They didnt need to examine me to find out that I was educated. I had lots of prizes and certificates; and there was my L.C.C. scholarship. You see, I have such a good memory: examinations are no trouble to me. Theres a book in the office about the League. I tried to read it; but it was such dry stuff I went to sleep over it.

THE SECRETARY [rising] Well, Miss Brown, I am glad to have made your acquaintance, and delighted to learn that though you have produced a first class political crisis, including what promises to be a world war, and made an amazing change in the constitution of the British Empire all in the course of a single morning's work, you are still in high spirits and in fact rather proud of yourself.

BEGONIA [she has also risen] Oh, I am not a bit proud; and I'm quite used to being a success. You know, although I was always at the top of my class at school, I never pretended to be clever. Silly clever, I call it. At first I was frightened of the girls that went in for being clever and having original ideas and all that sort of crankiness. But I beat them easily in the examinations; and they never got anywhere. That gave me confidence. Wherever I go I always find that lots of people think as I do. The best sort of people always do: the real ladies and gentlemen, you know. The others are oddities and outsiders. If you want to know what real English public opinion is, keep your eye on me. I'm not a bit afraid of war: remember that England has never lost a battle, and that it does no harm to remind the foreigners of it when they get out of hand. Good morning. So pleased to have met you.

They shake hands; and he goes to the door and opens it for her. She goes out much pleased with herself.

THE SECRETARY [ruminating dazedly] And thats England! [The telephone rings. He returns to the table to attend to it]. Yes? . . . Which Foreign Secretary? Every hole and corner in the Empire has its own Foreign Secretary now. Do you mean the British Foreign Secretary, Sir Orpheus Midlander? . . . Well, why didnt you say so? Shew him up at once.

Sir Orpheus comes in. He is a very welldressed gentleman of fifty or thereabouts, genial in manner, quickwitted in conversation, altogether a pleasant and popular personality.

THE SECRETARY. Do sit down. I cant say how I feel about your being dragged here all the way from London in Derby week.

SIR O. [sitting] Well, my friend, it's you who have dragged me. And I hope you wont mind my asking you what on earth you think you have been doing? What induced you to do it?

THE SECRETARY. I didnt do it. It was done by the Committee for Intellectual Co-operation.

SIR O. The what??! I never heard of such a body.

THE SECRETARY. Neither did I until this business was sprung on me. Nobody ever heard of it. But I find now that it is part of the League, and that its members are tremendous swells with European reputations. Theyve all published translations from the Greek or discovered new planets or something of that sort.

SIR O. Ah yes: outside politics: I see. But we cant have literary people interfering in foreign affairs. And they must have held meetings before taking such an outrageous step as this. Why were we not told? We'd have squashed them at once.

THE SECRETARY. They are quite innocent: they know no more about it than I did. The whole thing was done by a young woman named Begonia Brown.

SIR O. Begonia Brown! But this is appalling. I shall be personally compromised.

THE SECRETARY. You! How?

SIR O. This woman--it must be the same woman; for there cant be another female with such a name in the world--she's engaged to my nephew.

THE SECRETARY. She told me about it. But I had no idea the man was your nephew. I see how awkward it is for you. Did you ever talk to her about it?

SIR O. I! I never set eyes on her in my life. I remember her ridiculous name: thats all.

THE SECRETARY. Were you in the habit of discussing foreign affairs with your nephew?

SIR O. With Benjy! You might as well discuss Einstein's general theory of relativity with a blue behinded ape. I havnt exchanged twenty words with the boy since I tipped him when he was going from Eton to Oxford.

THE SECRETARY. Then I cant understand it. Her correspondence with the Hague Court has been conducted with remarkable ability and in first-rate style. The woman herself is quite incapable of it. There must be somebody behind her. Can it be your nephew?

SIR O. If, as you say, the work shews political ability and presentable style, you may accept my assurance that Sue's boy has nothing to do with it. Besides, he is at present in Singapore, where the native dancing girls are irresistible.

The telephone rings.

THE SECRETARY. Excuse me. Yes? . . . Hold on a moment. [To Sir O.] The Senior Judge of the Court of International Justice at the Hague is downstairs. Hadnt you better see him?

SIR O. By all means. Most opportune.

THE SECRETARY [into the telephone] Send him up.

SIR O. Have you had any correspondence about this business?

THE SECRETARY. Correspondence!!! I havnt read one tenth of it. The Abyssinian war was a holiday job in comparison. Weve never had anything like it before.

The Senior Judge enters. He is a Dutchman, much younger than a British judge: under forty, in fact, but very grave and every inch a judge.

THE SECRETARY. I am desolate at having brought your honor all the way from the Hague. A word from you would have brought me there and saved you the trouble. Have you met the British Foreign Secretary, Sir Orpheus Midlander?

JUDGE. I have not had that pleasure. How do you do, Sir Midlander?

SIR O. How do you do?

They shake hands whilst the Secretary places a chair for the judge in the middle of the room, between his table and Sir Orpheus. They all sit down.

JUDGE. I thought it best to come. The extraordinary feature of this affair is that I have communicated with all the members of the Intellectual Committee; and every one of them denies any knowledge of it. Most of them did not know that they are members.

SIR O. Do you mean to say that it is all a hoax?

JUDGE. It may be that someone was hoaxing the Court. But now that the applications for warrants have been made public, the Court must take them seriously. Otherwise it would cut a ridiculous figure in the eyes of Europe.

SIR O. But surely such a procedure was never contemplated when the Powers joined the League?

JUDGE. I do not think anything was contemplated when the Powers joined the League. They signed the Covenant without reading it, to oblige President Wilson. The United States then refused to sign it to disoblige President Wilson, also without reading it. Since then the Powers have behaved in every respect as if the League did not exist, except when they could use it for their own purposes.

SIR O. [naïvely] But how else could they use it?

JUDGE. They could use it to maintain justice and order between the nations.

SIR O. There is nothing we desire more. The British Empire stands for justice and order. But I must tell you that the British Foreign Office would take a very grave view of any attempt on the part of the Court to do anything without consulting us. I need not remind you that without us you have no powers. You have no police to execute your warrants. You cant put the Powers in the dock: you havnt got a dock.

JUDGE. We have a court room at the Hague which can easily be provided with a dock if you consider such a construction necessary, which I do not. We have employees to whom we can assign police duties to any necessary extent.

SIR O. Pooh! You cant be serious. You have no jurisdiction.

JUDGE. You mean that our jurisdiction is undefined. That means that our jurisdiction is what we choose to make it. You are familiar with what you call judge-made law in England. Well, Sir Midlander, the judges of the Court of International Justice are not nonentities. We have waited a long time for a case to set us in motion. You have provided us with four cases; and you may depend on us to make the most of them. They will affirm our existence, which is hardly known yet. They will exercise our power, which is hardly felt yet. All we needed was a cause célèbre; and Miss Begonia Brown has found several for us very opportunely.

SIR O. My dear sir: Miss Brown is a nobody.

JUDGE. Unless the highest court can be set in motion by the humblest individual justice is a mockery.

SIR O. Of course I agree with that--in principle. Still, you know, there are people you can take into court and people you cant. Your experience at the bar--

JUDGE [interrupting him sharply] I have had no experience at the bar. Please remember that you are not now in England, where judges are only worn-out barristers, most of whom have forgotten any sense of law they may ever have acquired.

SIR O. How very odd! I own I was surprised to find the judicial bench represented by so young a man; and I am afraid I must add that I prefer our British system. We should have had no trouble with a British judge.

JUDGE. Why should you have any trouble with me? I am simply a Judge, first and last. To me it is a continual trouble and scandal that modern statesmen are slipping back, one after another, from the reign of law based on the eternal principle of justice, to the maintenance of governments set up by successful demagogues or victorious soldiers, each of whom has his proscription list of enemies whom he imprisons, exiles, or murders at his pleasure until he is himself overcome by an abler rival and duly proscribed, imprisoned, exiled or assassinated in his turn. Such a state of things is abhorrent to me. I have spent years in trying to devise some judicial procedure by which these law-breakers can be brought to justice. Well, the Intellectual Co-operation Committee--of the existence of which I must confess I was entirely ignorant--has found the procedure; and the Court will back it up to the utmost of its powers.

SIR O. I am afraid you are a bit of an idealist.

JUDGE. Necessarily. Justice is an ideal; and I am a judge. What, may I ask, are you?

SIR O. I! Oh, only a much harassed Foreign Secretary. You see my young friend--if you will allow me to call you so--justice, as you say, is an ideal, and a very fine ideal too; but what I have to deal with is Power; and Power is often a devilishly ugly thing. If any of these demagogue dictators issues a warrant for your arrest or even an order for your execution, you will be arrested and shot the moment you set foot in their country. You may even be kidnapped and carried there: remember Napoleon and the Duc d'Enghien. But if you issue a warrant or pronounce a sentence against one of them Europe will just laugh at you, because you have no power. It will be as futile as a decree of excommunication.

JUDGE. Would you like to be excommunicated?

SIR O. Hardly a serious question, is it?

JUDGE. Very serious.

SIR O. My dear sir, it couldnt happen.

JUDGE. Pardon me: it could.

SIR O. [obstinately] Pardon me: it couldnt. Look at the thing practically. To begin with I am not a Roman Catholic. I am a member of the Church of England; and down at my place in the country the Church living is in my gift. Without my subscription the churchwardens could not make both ends meet. The rector has no society except what he gets in my house.

JUDGE. The rector is a freeholder. If you are a notoriously evil liver, he can refuse to admit you to Communion.

SIR O. But I am not a notoriously evil liver. If the rector suggested such a thing I should have him out of his rectory and in a lunatic asylum before the end of the week.

JUDGE. Suppose the rector were prepared to risk that! Suppose the war of 1914 were renewed, and you were responsible for sending the young men of your country to drop bombs on the capital cities of Europe! Suppose your rector, as a Christian priest, took the view that you were in a condition of mortal sin and refused you Communion! Suppose, if you wish, that you had him locked up as a lunatic! Would you like it?

SIR O. Suppose the villagers burnt down his rectory and ducked him in the horse pond to teach him a little British patriotism! How would he like it?

JUDGE. Martyrdom has its attractions for some natures. But my question was not whether he would like it, but whether you would like it.

SIR O. I should treat it with contempt.

JUDGE. No doubt; but would you like it?

SIR O. Oh, come! Really! Really!

JUDGE. Believe me, Sir Midlander, you would not like it. And if the International Court, moved by the Committee for Intellectual Co-operation, were to deliver an adverse judgment on you, you would not like it. The man whom the Hague condemns will be an uncomfortable man. The State which it finds to be in the wrong will be an uncomfortable State.

SIR O. But you cant enforce anything. You have no sanctions.

JUDGE. What, exactly, do you mean by sanctions, Sir Midlander?

SIR O. I mean what everybody means. Sanctions, you know. That is plain English. Oil, for instance.

JUDGE. Castor oil?

SIR O. No no: motor oil. The stuff you run your aeroplanes on.

JUDGE. Motor oil is a sanction when you withhold it. Castor oil is a sanction when you administer it. Is there any other difference?

SIR O. [smiling] Well, that has never occurred to me before; but now you mention it there is certainly an analogy. But in England the castor oil business is just one of those things that are not done. Castor oil is indecent. Motor oil is all right.

JUDGE. Well, you need not fear that the Hague will resort to any other sanction than the sacredness of justice. It will affirm this sacredness and make the necessary applications. It is the business of a judge to see that there is no wrong without a remedy. Your Committee for Intellectual Co-operation has been appealed to by four persons who have suffered grievous wrongs. It has very properly referred them to the International Court. As president of that court it is my business to find a remedy for their wrongs; and I shall do so to the best of my ability even if my decisions should form the beginning of a new code of international law and be quite unprecedented.

SIR O. But, my dear sir, what practical steps do you propose to take? What steps can you take?

JUDGE. I have already taken them. I have fixed a day for the trial of the cases, and summoned the plaintiffs and defendants to attend the court.

THE SECRETARY. But the defendants are the responsible heads of sovereign States. Do you suppose for a moment that they will obey your summons?

JUDGE. We shall see. That, in fact, is the object of my experiment. We shall see. [He rises] And now I must ask you to excuse me. Sir Midlander: our interview has been most instructive to me as to the attitude of your country. Mr Secretary: you are very good to have spared me so much of your valuable time. Good afternoon, gentlemen. [He goes out].

SIR O. What are we to do with men like that?

THE SECRETARY. What are they going to do with us? That is the question we have to face now.

SIR O. Pooh! They cant do anything, you know, except make speeches and write articles. They are free to do that in England. British liberty is a most useful safety valve.

THE SECRETARY. I was on his honor's side myself once, until my official experience here taught me how hopeless it is to knock supernationalism--

SIR O. Super what? Did you say supernaturalism?

THE SECRETARY. No. Supernationalism.

SIR O. Oh, I see. Internationalism.

THE SECRETARY. No. Internationalism is nonsense. Pushing all the nations into Geneva is like throwing all the fishes into the same pond: they just begin eating oneanother. We need something higher than nationalism: a genuine political and social Catholicism. How are you to get that from these patriots, with their national anthems and flags and dreams of war and conquest rubbed into them from their childhood? The organization of nations is the organization of world war. If two men want to fight how do you prevent them? By keeping them apart, not by bringing them together. When the nations kept apart war was an occasional and exceptional thing: now the League hangs over Europe like a perpetual warcloud.

SIR O. Well, dont throw it at my head as if I disagreed with you.

THE SECRETARY. I beg your pardon. I am worried by this crisis. Let us talk business. What are we to do with Begonia Brown?

SIR O. Do with her! Squash her, impudent little slut. She is nobody: she doesnt matter.

The conversation is abruptly broken by the irruption of Begonia herself in a state of ungovernable excitement.

BEGONIA. Have you heard the news? [Seeing Sir Orpheus] Oh, I beg your pardon: I didnt know you were engaged.

THE SECRETARY. This is Sir Orpheus Midlander, the British Foreign Secretary, Miss Brown.

BEGONIA. Oh, most pleased to meet you, Sir Orpheus. I know your nephew. We are quite dear friends [she shakes Sir O.'s hand effusively]. Have you heard the news? Lord Middlesex is dead.

SIR O. Indeed? Let me see. Middlesex? I dont attach any significance to the news. He must have been a backwoodsman. Remind me about him.

BEGONIA. His son is Lord Newcross.

SIR O. Oh! Then Newcross goes to the Lords to succeed his father. That means a by-election in Camberwell.

BEGONIA. Yes; and the Conservatives want me to stand.

BOTH GENTLEMEN. What!!!

BEGONIA. Dont you think I ought to? I have been a lot in the papers lately. It's six hundred a year for me if I get in. I shall be the patriotic candidate; and the Labor vote will be a split vote; for the Communists are putting up a candidate against the Labor man; and the Liberals are contesting the seat as well. It will be just a walk-over for me.

SIR O. But my nephew is the Government candidate. Has he not told you so?

BEGONIA. Oh, thats quite all right. He has withdrawn and proposed me. He'll pay my election expenses.

SIR O. I thought he was in Singapore.

BEGONIA. So he is. It's all been done by cable. Ive just this minute heard it. You see, dear Billikins is not very bright; and he'd better not be here to muddle everything up. [She sits].

SIR O. But will his committee accept you?

BEGONIA. Only too glad to get a candidate that will do them credit. You see, no matter how carefully they coached Bill for the public meetings he made the most awful exhibition of himself. And he knew it, poor lamb, and would never have gone in for it if his mother hadnt made him.

SIR O. And do you think you will be able to make a better impression at the meetings? You are not a politician, are you?

BEGONIA. The same as anybody else, I suppose. I shall pick up all the politics I need when I get into the House; and I shall get into the House because there are lots of people in Camberwell who think as I do. You bet I shall romp in at the head of the poll. I am quite excited about it. [To the Secretary] You were so kind to me just now that I thought you had a right to know before anyone else. [To Sir O.] And it's splendid news for the Government, isnt it, Sir Orpheus?

SIR O. Thrilling, Miss Brown.

BEGONIA. Oh, do call me Begonia. We're as good as related, arnt we?

SIR O. I am afraid so.

BEGONIA. I am sure to get in, arnt I?

SIR O. If your three opponents are foolish enough to go to the poll, it's a cert.

BEGONIA. Yes: isnt it? I wonder would you mind lending me my fare to London. I dont like taking money off Billikins. I will pay you when my ship comes home: the six hundred a year, you know.

SIR O. Will a five pound note be any use [he produces one]?

BEGONIA [taking it] Thanks ever so much: itll just see me through. And now I must toddle off to my little constituency. I have barely time to pack for the night train. Goodbye, Mr Secretary [They shake hands]; and [to Sir O. effusively] thanks ever so much, and au revoir. [She goes out].

THE SECRETARY. What an amazing young woman! You really think she will get in?

SIR O. Of course she will. She has courage, sincerity, good looks, and big publicity as the Geneva heroine. Everything that our voters love.

THE SECRETARY. But she hasnt a political idea in her head.

SIR O. She need not have. The Whips will pilot her through the division lobby until she knows the way. She need not know anything else.

THE SECRETARY. But she is a complete ignoramus. She will give herself away every time she opens her mouth.

SIR O. Not at all. She will say pluckily and sincerely just what she feels and thinks. You heard her say that there are lots of people in Camberwell who feel and think as she does. Well, the House of Commons is exactly like Camberwell in that respect.

THE SECRETARY. But can you contemplate such a state of things without dismay?

SIR O. Of course I can. I contemplated my nephew's candidature without dismay.

THE SECRETARY. The world is mad. Quite mad.

SIR O. Pooh! you need a cup of tea. Nothing wrong with the world: nothing whatever.

THE SECRETARY [resignedly sitting down and speaking into the telephone] Tea for two, please.

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