A century on - The Conquering Hero redux
I posted this extract from my grandfather's play, The Conquering Hero, on his birthday a couple of years ago, during its revival at the Orange Tree Theatre in Richmond. But I thought it was worth bringing out again, and this same section rather than any other part of the play, because it's a hundred years today from the scene depicted, and I think it's interesting to have a near-contemporary description of differing attitudes to the arrival of war.
[And, thinking back, I know where Allan and his family were a hundred years ago: on holiday in the Lake District, at a farm near Black Combe. My father often described to me how he had climbed Black Combe, his first mountain, that day (he was ten years old, so I've no idea why he hadn't climbed one sooner!) and they heard the news about the war when they came down. He remembered his father and the farmer discussing the war that night, and agreeing that it would be a terrible thing, but at least it couldn't last very long.]
Although the play was not performed until the 1920s, research by New York's Mint Theater, who staged a reading in October 2012, revealed that it was actually written in 1915. Before 1968, British plays had to be submitted to the Lord Chamberlain for a licence, and the censor appointed to read the play in 1923 explained "I have read that the author did not want this play acted during the war. Rightly, I think, and at that time it might not have been licensed, because the 'pacifist' argument in the first part might have had a bad effect. But I see no reason now for withholding a licence. The arguments in the play are familiar and the realities of the war are now known." Even so, it seems that not all theatre-goers were ready to accept them.
Allan, who was too old to fight, dedicated the play to "those who hated war and went to the war".
On the eve of the First World War, the Rokeby siblings - Stephen, a curate, Chris, a writer, and Margaret, the wife of an army captain - have been discussing the expected war with Margaret's husband, Frank Iredale, and Chris's fiancee, Helen Thorburn. Margaret is fiercely militant, Stephen opposes war on religious grounds, and Chris insists that it's his duty to keep "the eternal" (ie art) alive. Their argument is interrupted by the return of their father, Colonel Rokeby, from London with their aunt and uncle, the Romers.
From Act 1 of The Conquering Hero
[The COLONEL advances, brandishing a newspaper.]
STEPHEN (eagerly): Good news?
COL. ROKEBY: The best! We shall be at war with Germany by midnight.
[STEPHEN turns away and stands looking into the fireplace. As the others crowd round the COLONEL and the ROMERS, eager to see the printed news, CHRIS approaches STEPHEN and stands by him.]
STEPHEN (in a low voice to CHRIS): Untold suffering. Misery and desolation.
[Scraps of excited comment are heard as the paper is passed or dragged from hand to hand. A burst of laughter from HELEN.]
CHRIS (to STEPHEN as he looks round at them): Are they sincere? Are they really joyful? What are they thinking?
COL. ROKEBY (coming forward with IREDALE, whom he holds affectionately by the arm): Yes, I called at the War Office. Couldn't see anyone. The excitement's terrific. One or two old friends. I gave in my name, of course. Damn it, Frank, why didn't it come earlier? I'm too old for the trenches. I envy you. Ah! Chris, my boy - Stephen - this is great news. I wish - I wish - well, what about dinner? We're hungry (to the ROMERS). Now then, John - Janet. Champagne to-night.
MARGARET: Dinner in ten minutes. No dressing.
COL. ROKEBY: I wish we were all dressed like Frank. (He clasps IREDALE on the shoulder.) Khaki's the only wear now. What time d'you go, Frank?
ROMER: I hear that Kitchener -
LADY ROMER: Margaret, is he all ready?
MARGARET: Yes, Aunt Janet.
COL. ROKEBY: I was at the War Office this afternoon. Smell of powder, by Gad! I'll get some sort of job, you'll see. Drilling!
LADY ROMER: Your father's like a boy again, Chris.
CHRIS: Splendid! Yes, it's a great thing for him.
HELEN: It is splendid, isn't it, Chris?
CHRIS: Of course it is.
COL. ROKEBY: What? What? Oh, nonsense! But Chris, my boy, what are you going to do? You've been through your drill. You'd make a soldier in a week. I believe I can get you a commission.
CHRIS: Thanks, Father.
ROMER: They say there'll be an Expeditionary Force in France within a fortnight.
LADY ROMER: We ought to have a million ready.
ROMER: I hear that Kitchener -
LADY ROMER: Chris had better give in his name at once. There'll be thousands applying.
COL. ROKEBY (rather timidly): Shall I speak to Mainwaring, Chris? It's too late to-night. I could send him a wire in the morning. He's busy, but he'd do anything he could.
CHRIS: I think not, Father.
SIR JOHN: Well, what's your notion?
CHRIS: About what?
LADY ROMER: What are you going to do?
CHRIS: I thought of just getting on with my work.
LADY ROMER: What work?
CHRIS: You think I'm an idler?
LADY ROMER: Oh! You mean - but surely -
MARGARET: Chris prefers to remain safely at home.
CHRIS: I wonder if I am cowardly. You make me angry and confused, Margaret.
MARGARET: Oh! take your chance, Chris. Don't refuse.
CHRIS (looks at HELEN, who had made a movement, an exclamation): It isn't quite fair.
HELEN: Don't make your mind up against it.
CHRIS: I never make my mind up.
HELEN: That's what's so dreadful.
IREDALE: But, old chap, if you go out you must make up your mind. You can't decide to chuck it and go home.
CHRIS: My body would have to go through with it. My mind would be in perpetual revolt.
MARGARET: He's a talker. He's made of words.
COL. ROKEBY (who has followed the discussion anxiously): No - no. Chris must do what he thinks right.
MARGARET: He must do what is right.
COL. ROKEBY: He sees something that I don't see. I don't understand you, my boy, and I daresay you're wiser than I am. I don't want to compel you - to bully you -
CHRIS: I know, sir. You're a trump.
MARGARET: Oh! thank God for Frank! (She bursts into tears and lays her head on IREDALE'S shoulder.)
IREDALE: Steady! Steady!
MARGARET: I swore I wouldn't. It's his fault. If only Stephen - if one of them -
LADY ROMER: Margaret should have been the boy.
SIR JOHN: Well, at any rate, Stephen can get all the young men in his flock to enlist. The parsons now will have a great chance to help.
LADY ROMER: Could he get a chaplaincy to the troops?
CHRIS: Poor Stephen!
COL. ROKEBY (anxiously): It's a bad business, Stephen, but we've got to go through with it.
STEPHEN (comes forward and pauses for a moment before speaking): I'm horribly sorry, sir. I'm as bad as Chris.
COL. ROKEBY: Of course, of course, my boy. I understand -
MARGARET: Don't listen to them. They don't belong here.
SIR JOHN: What's Stephen's point?
STEPHEN: It's useless, but I do protest against this war - your delight in it, your levity.
COL. ROKEBY: Levity!
MARGARET: Protest then and be done. Father, what more news?
COL. ROKEBY: But, Stephen -
STEPHEN: What insolence it is - I don't speak to you, sir - to assume that a minister of Christ cares nothing for Christ's word.
LADY ROMER: But, surely everybody - all the bishops - are agreed that - Ah! your mother was an eccentric woman. I beg your pardon, Henry.
CHRIS: Be warned, Stephen. The bishops are against you.
COL. ROKEBY: I do my best to be a Christian, Stephen. If Christ is against this war - (He makes a gesture of dismissal.)
CHRIS: That's it, sir. We must all do our best - not somebody else's best.
LADY ROMER: Well, Stephen, you must just keep quiet and you'll do no harm.
STEPHEN: I'm afraid I can't keep quiet.
MARGARET: Why, what will you do?
CHRIS: Stephen's a whole hogger. And he's got his pulpit.
MARGARET: What!
LADY ROMER: But surely -
STEPHEN: I must make my protest. I can't be silent.
LADY ROMER: Henry, I pity you.
COL. ROKEBY: My sons must do what they believe to be right.
CHRIS: You're beautiful about it, sir. I shall have to come to your side yet.
COL. ROKEBY: Ah! if you could -
[CHRIS looks at him wistfully and turns away.]
MARGARET: They don't matter. Father, Uncle John, you haven't told us whom you've seen. What's happening? Have you any idea where Frank will go?
COL. ROKEBY: No, they're keeping it all very dark. They're alive, though. I think they know what they're about.
SIR JOHN: This Radical Government has its chance now.
MARGARET: But we've no army.
COL. ROKEBY: Let them keep things going and we shall have. India, Canada, all over. They'll flock in. And we shall raise a million men here in six months.
CHRIS: Conscription?
MARGARET: You'll all be dragged in.
CHRIS: It's the end of freedom then?
MARGARET: Freedom! It's a fight for freedom. Can't you see that? Are you a fool? It's so simple.
SIR JOHN: What is your point, Chris? There may be a certain amount of logic in Stephen's position though, mind you - but you've never set up for being a religious man. We'd no option. Grey's a peace man. Germany would have it, I tell you.
MARGARET: He's willing to be a German's slave.
CHRIS: We're all slaves to something.
SIR JOHN: It's an end of us. It's an end of the English race if we lose this war.
CHRIS: Perhaps. Then have no war.
HELEN: Why do we listen to him? He's decadent. He lives in a little circle. They talk big - among themselves. Great things are done, and they say smart things about them. The men of the nation will die in the trenches and they'll be at home writing sarcastic, witty things. They'll be keeping up the standard - the standard of diction - of words.
CHRIS (after a short pause): Yes, you hurt me. You hurt me considerably. Well done, Helen. That was awfully clever. She got at me, Stephen, didn't she? I wish my convictions were convictions. I'm not a politician. I don't understand these things you're talking about. I'm quietly at work - the work that matters more to me than anything in life - and you come buzzing round with your war - there's nothing in the world but war. Yes, there is.
MARGARET: Another of his poses.
IREDALE: Look here, old man, the point is - if they beat us we're done.
CHRIS: I'm not done.
HELEN: A slave.
CHRIS: No. Suppose the worst. Suppose they beat us - overrun our country. It's possible. Face the facts.
COL. ROKEBY: They cannot beat us if we're true to ourselves.
MARGARET: If the cowards will fight.
CHRIS: Forgive me, Father. Don't run into cowardly evasions. Yes, cowardly. You all know that we may be beaten. It's been a long peace with preparations - preparations for war. And who knows whether these infernal Germans aren't far ahead of us? How can you possibly tell? Every modern war has found one side efficient and the other not. How do we know which side it is this time? We may be beaten in a month.
SIR JOHN: The man who says so is a traitor.
CHRIS: The man who won't face this is a coward.
IREDALE: D'you mean to say our navy's no good?
CHRIS: Frank, Frank, don't misunderstand. I hope we're all right. If there are many like you, we are. Don't think I want you to be beaten.
HELEN: And what's the good of all this?
CHRIS: I've more faith in the nation than you have. Let them beat us. It would be horrible, of course. D'you think I shouldn't feel it? It's my trade to feel. It's my trade to look for the truth, to face things, to reveal them.
SIR JOHN: But not to serve your country.
CHRIS: Yes. In my own way.
COL. ROKEBY: You puzzle us, my boy. There's only one kind of service that matters now.
HELEN: Under the Germans there would still be a publishing season.
CHRIS: How clever Helen is! She can make me ludicrous. She can make my thought come out small and mean and me an ignoble fool. It's her sympathy, it's because she understands me. Margaret can't touch me like that.
HELEN: I want you to be fine - to be noble.
CHRIS: If that ghastly accident comes - if they invade us and subdue us and govern us - d'you think I and my kind will be conquered? It would all be a hideous irrelevance. They may trample on us or kill us, but they can't enslave our minds. We'll go on living - some of us. I've my faith too, and it isn't just in guns - England! I can think of England too. Humiliation and defeat may be our salvation.
STEPHEN: God may have it so.
COL. ROKEBY: It's impious, Stephen. I've heard enough.
MARGARET: Too much. Leave them together.
CHRIS: I've a brother still. Stephen has courage. We've not always hit if off, Stephen, but we're groping out to one another now. I'll come and hear you preach.
MARGARET: We're wasting time. Dinner in ten minutes. Aunt, you're in the blue room. Come on.
[She and LADY ROMER go out, STEPHEN follows. IREDALE goes towards the door and pauses before CHRIS.]
IREDALE: I'd give a good deal, old chap, to see your point.
CHRIS: Frank, you don't know how much I like you and admire you.
IREDALE: Then, why do you try to take the shine out of the thing like this?
CHRIS: Go in and win. God bless you. Heaven help you. Rule Britannia. I mean it, I mean it, Frank.
IREDALE: D'you know what you mean?
CHRIS: Perhaps not.
IREDALE: I do know what I mean.
CHRIS: You beat me there.
IREDALE: We've been friends in a way.
CHRIS: Yes, yes, Frank.
IREDALE: Well - (He stares at CHRIS, and then looks round at the others in a puzzled way.) Damned if I can understand him.
[He goes out. The others have been listening. COL. ROKEBY and ROMER move together towards the door. COL. ROKEBY pauses before CHRIS very much as IREDALE did.]
COL. ROKEBY: Yes, Chris, I wish we could all be together in this. Don't let us stress any differences. I mean - I wonder - of course, there's the Territorials. I wonder if you'd like to join - home defence, you know.
CHRIS: I'll think of it, sir.
ROMER: They'll be called out. You can't decline to go.
COL. ROKEBY: Chris is not a coward, John.
ROMER: I can't make out what he is.
COL. ROKEBY (goes towards the door and comes back): You might write us something inspiring, Chris. Poetry, you know. I think Rudyard Kipling has done real service. We can't all be in the trenches. Just give us a hand somewhere.
CHRIS: Do you know what I'd like? I wish you could just take a birch-rod to me and make me do what you want. I wish I was a boy serving under you - fighting. I should be happy.
ROMER: Well, I'm like Frank. I'm damned if I see what you're driving at. (He takes COL. ROKEBY'S arm and impels him from the room. The COLONEL glances back as he goes.)
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[And, thinking back, I know where Allan and his family were a hundred years ago: on holiday in the Lake District, at a farm near Black Combe. My father often described to me how he had climbed Black Combe, his first mountain, that day (he was ten years old, so I've no idea why he hadn't climbed one sooner!) and they heard the news about the war when they came down. He remembered his father and the farmer discussing the war that night, and agreeing that it would be a terrible thing, but at least it couldn't last very long.]
Although the play was not performed until the 1920s, research by New York's Mint Theater, who staged a reading in October 2012, revealed that it was actually written in 1915. Before 1968, British plays had to be submitted to the Lord Chamberlain for a licence, and the censor appointed to read the play in 1923 explained "I have read that the author did not want this play acted during the war. Rightly, I think, and at that time it might not have been licensed, because the 'pacifist' argument in the first part might have had a bad effect. But I see no reason now for withholding a licence. The arguments in the play are familiar and the realities of the war are now known." Even so, it seems that not all theatre-goers were ready to accept them.
Allan, who was too old to fight, dedicated the play to "those who hated war and went to the war".
On the eve of the First World War, the Rokeby siblings - Stephen, a curate, Chris, a writer, and Margaret, the wife of an army captain - have been discussing the expected war with Margaret's husband, Frank Iredale, and Chris's fiancee, Helen Thorburn. Margaret is fiercely militant, Stephen opposes war on religious grounds, and Chris insists that it's his duty to keep "the eternal" (ie art) alive. Their argument is interrupted by the return of their father, Colonel Rokeby, from London with their aunt and uncle, the Romers.
From Act 1 of The Conquering Hero
[The COLONEL advances, brandishing a newspaper.]
STEPHEN (eagerly): Good news?
COL. ROKEBY: The best! We shall be at war with Germany by midnight.
[STEPHEN turns away and stands looking into the fireplace. As the others crowd round the COLONEL and the ROMERS, eager to see the printed news, CHRIS approaches STEPHEN and stands by him.]
STEPHEN (in a low voice to CHRIS): Untold suffering. Misery and desolation.
[Scraps of excited comment are heard as the paper is passed or dragged from hand to hand. A burst of laughter from HELEN.]
CHRIS (to STEPHEN as he looks round at them): Are they sincere? Are they really joyful? What are they thinking?
COL. ROKEBY (coming forward with IREDALE, whom he holds affectionately by the arm): Yes, I called at the War Office. Couldn't see anyone. The excitement's terrific. One or two old friends. I gave in my name, of course. Damn it, Frank, why didn't it come earlier? I'm too old for the trenches. I envy you. Ah! Chris, my boy - Stephen - this is great news. I wish - I wish - well, what about dinner? We're hungry (to the ROMERS). Now then, John - Janet. Champagne to-night.
MARGARET: Dinner in ten minutes. No dressing.
COL. ROKEBY: I wish we were all dressed like Frank. (He clasps IREDALE on the shoulder.) Khaki's the only wear now. What time d'you go, Frank?
ROMER: I hear that Kitchener -
LADY ROMER: Margaret, is he all ready?
MARGARET: Yes, Aunt Janet.
COL. ROKEBY: I was at the War Office this afternoon. Smell of powder, by Gad! I'll get some sort of job, you'll see. Drilling!
LADY ROMER: Your father's like a boy again, Chris.
CHRIS: Splendid! Yes, it's a great thing for him.
HELEN: It is splendid, isn't it, Chris?
CHRIS: Of course it is.
COL. ROKEBY: What? What? Oh, nonsense! But Chris, my boy, what are you going to do? You've been through your drill. You'd make a soldier in a week. I believe I can get you a commission.
CHRIS: Thanks, Father.
ROMER: They say there'll be an Expeditionary Force in France within a fortnight.
LADY ROMER: We ought to have a million ready.
ROMER: I hear that Kitchener -
LADY ROMER: Chris had better give in his name at once. There'll be thousands applying.
COL. ROKEBY (rather timidly): Shall I speak to Mainwaring, Chris? It's too late to-night. I could send him a wire in the morning. He's busy, but he'd do anything he could.
CHRIS: I think not, Father.
SIR JOHN: Well, what's your notion?
CHRIS: About what?
LADY ROMER: What are you going to do?
CHRIS: I thought of just getting on with my work.
LADY ROMER: What work?
CHRIS: You think I'm an idler?
LADY ROMER: Oh! You mean - but surely -
MARGARET: Chris prefers to remain safely at home.
CHRIS: I wonder if I am cowardly. You make me angry and confused, Margaret.
MARGARET: Oh! take your chance, Chris. Don't refuse.
CHRIS (looks at HELEN, who had made a movement, an exclamation): It isn't quite fair.
HELEN: Don't make your mind up against it.
CHRIS: I never make my mind up.
HELEN: That's what's so dreadful.
IREDALE: But, old chap, if you go out you must make up your mind. You can't decide to chuck it and go home.
CHRIS: My body would have to go through with it. My mind would be in perpetual revolt.
MARGARET: He's a talker. He's made of words.
COL. ROKEBY (who has followed the discussion anxiously): No - no. Chris must do what he thinks right.
MARGARET: He must do what is right.
COL. ROKEBY: He sees something that I don't see. I don't understand you, my boy, and I daresay you're wiser than I am. I don't want to compel you - to bully you -
CHRIS: I know, sir. You're a trump.
MARGARET: Oh! thank God for Frank! (She bursts into tears and lays her head on IREDALE'S shoulder.)
IREDALE: Steady! Steady!
MARGARET: I swore I wouldn't. It's his fault. If only Stephen - if one of them -
LADY ROMER: Margaret should have been the boy.
SIR JOHN: Well, at any rate, Stephen can get all the young men in his flock to enlist. The parsons now will have a great chance to help.
LADY ROMER: Could he get a chaplaincy to the troops?
CHRIS: Poor Stephen!
COL. ROKEBY (anxiously): It's a bad business, Stephen, but we've got to go through with it.
STEPHEN (comes forward and pauses for a moment before speaking): I'm horribly sorry, sir. I'm as bad as Chris.
COL. ROKEBY: Of course, of course, my boy. I understand -
MARGARET: Don't listen to them. They don't belong here.
SIR JOHN: What's Stephen's point?
STEPHEN: It's useless, but I do protest against this war - your delight in it, your levity.
COL. ROKEBY: Levity!
MARGARET: Protest then and be done. Father, what more news?
COL. ROKEBY: But, Stephen -
STEPHEN: What insolence it is - I don't speak to you, sir - to assume that a minister of Christ cares nothing for Christ's word.
LADY ROMER: But, surely everybody - all the bishops - are agreed that - Ah! your mother was an eccentric woman. I beg your pardon, Henry.
CHRIS: Be warned, Stephen. The bishops are against you.
COL. ROKEBY: I do my best to be a Christian, Stephen. If Christ is against this war - (He makes a gesture of dismissal.)
CHRIS: That's it, sir. We must all do our best - not somebody else's best.
LADY ROMER: Well, Stephen, you must just keep quiet and you'll do no harm.
STEPHEN: I'm afraid I can't keep quiet.
MARGARET: Why, what will you do?
CHRIS: Stephen's a whole hogger. And he's got his pulpit.
MARGARET: What!
LADY ROMER: But surely -
STEPHEN: I must make my protest. I can't be silent.
LADY ROMER: Henry, I pity you.
COL. ROKEBY: My sons must do what they believe to be right.
CHRIS: You're beautiful about it, sir. I shall have to come to your side yet.
COL. ROKEBY: Ah! if you could -
[CHRIS looks at him wistfully and turns away.]
MARGARET: They don't matter. Father, Uncle John, you haven't told us whom you've seen. What's happening? Have you any idea where Frank will go?
COL. ROKEBY: No, they're keeping it all very dark. They're alive, though. I think they know what they're about.
SIR JOHN: This Radical Government has its chance now.
MARGARET: But we've no army.
COL. ROKEBY: Let them keep things going and we shall have. India, Canada, all over. They'll flock in. And we shall raise a million men here in six months.
CHRIS: Conscription?
MARGARET: You'll all be dragged in.
CHRIS: It's the end of freedom then?
MARGARET: Freedom! It's a fight for freedom. Can't you see that? Are you a fool? It's so simple.
SIR JOHN: What is your point, Chris? There may be a certain amount of logic in Stephen's position though, mind you - but you've never set up for being a religious man. We'd no option. Grey's a peace man. Germany would have it, I tell you.
MARGARET: He's willing to be a German's slave.
CHRIS: We're all slaves to something.
SIR JOHN: It's an end of us. It's an end of the English race if we lose this war.
CHRIS: Perhaps. Then have no war.
HELEN: Why do we listen to him? He's decadent. He lives in a little circle. They talk big - among themselves. Great things are done, and they say smart things about them. The men of the nation will die in the trenches and they'll be at home writing sarcastic, witty things. They'll be keeping up the standard - the standard of diction - of words.
CHRIS (after a short pause): Yes, you hurt me. You hurt me considerably. Well done, Helen. That was awfully clever. She got at me, Stephen, didn't she? I wish my convictions were convictions. I'm not a politician. I don't understand these things you're talking about. I'm quietly at work - the work that matters more to me than anything in life - and you come buzzing round with your war - there's nothing in the world but war. Yes, there is.
MARGARET: Another of his poses.
IREDALE: Look here, old man, the point is - if they beat us we're done.
CHRIS: I'm not done.
HELEN: A slave.
CHRIS: No. Suppose the worst. Suppose they beat us - overrun our country. It's possible. Face the facts.
COL. ROKEBY: They cannot beat us if we're true to ourselves.
MARGARET: If the cowards will fight.
CHRIS: Forgive me, Father. Don't run into cowardly evasions. Yes, cowardly. You all know that we may be beaten. It's been a long peace with preparations - preparations for war. And who knows whether these infernal Germans aren't far ahead of us? How can you possibly tell? Every modern war has found one side efficient and the other not. How do we know which side it is this time? We may be beaten in a month.
SIR JOHN: The man who says so is a traitor.
CHRIS: The man who won't face this is a coward.
IREDALE: D'you mean to say our navy's no good?
CHRIS: Frank, Frank, don't misunderstand. I hope we're all right. If there are many like you, we are. Don't think I want you to be beaten.
HELEN: And what's the good of all this?
CHRIS: I've more faith in the nation than you have. Let them beat us. It would be horrible, of course. D'you think I shouldn't feel it? It's my trade to feel. It's my trade to look for the truth, to face things, to reveal them.
SIR JOHN: But not to serve your country.
CHRIS: Yes. In my own way.
COL. ROKEBY: You puzzle us, my boy. There's only one kind of service that matters now.
HELEN: Under the Germans there would still be a publishing season.
CHRIS: How clever Helen is! She can make me ludicrous. She can make my thought come out small and mean and me an ignoble fool. It's her sympathy, it's because she understands me. Margaret can't touch me like that.
HELEN: I want you to be fine - to be noble.
CHRIS: If that ghastly accident comes - if they invade us and subdue us and govern us - d'you think I and my kind will be conquered? It would all be a hideous irrelevance. They may trample on us or kill us, but they can't enslave our minds. We'll go on living - some of us. I've my faith too, and it isn't just in guns - England! I can think of England too. Humiliation and defeat may be our salvation.
STEPHEN: God may have it so.
COL. ROKEBY: It's impious, Stephen. I've heard enough.
MARGARET: Too much. Leave them together.
CHRIS: I've a brother still. Stephen has courage. We've not always hit if off, Stephen, but we're groping out to one another now. I'll come and hear you preach.
MARGARET: We're wasting time. Dinner in ten minutes. Aunt, you're in the blue room. Come on.
[She and LADY ROMER go out, STEPHEN follows. IREDALE goes towards the door and pauses before CHRIS.]
IREDALE: I'd give a good deal, old chap, to see your point.
CHRIS: Frank, you don't know how much I like you and admire you.
IREDALE: Then, why do you try to take the shine out of the thing like this?
CHRIS: Go in and win. God bless you. Heaven help you. Rule Britannia. I mean it, I mean it, Frank.
IREDALE: D'you know what you mean?
CHRIS: Perhaps not.
IREDALE: I do know what I mean.
CHRIS: You beat me there.
IREDALE: We've been friends in a way.
CHRIS: Yes, yes, Frank.
IREDALE: Well - (He stares at CHRIS, and then looks round at the others in a puzzled way.) Damned if I can understand him.
[He goes out. The others have been listening. COL. ROKEBY and ROMER move together towards the door. COL. ROKEBY pauses before CHRIS very much as IREDALE did.]
COL. ROKEBY: Yes, Chris, I wish we could all be together in this. Don't let us stress any differences. I mean - I wonder - of course, there's the Territorials. I wonder if you'd like to join - home defence, you know.
CHRIS: I'll think of it, sir.
ROMER: They'll be called out. You can't decline to go.
COL. ROKEBY: Chris is not a coward, John.
ROMER: I can't make out what he is.
COL. ROKEBY (goes towards the door and comes back): You might write us something inspiring, Chris. Poetry, you know. I think Rudyard Kipling has done real service. We can't all be in the trenches. Just give us a hand somewhere.
CHRIS: Do you know what I'd like? I wish you could just take a birch-rod to me and make me do what you want. I wish I was a boy serving under you - fighting. I should be happy.
ROMER: Well, I'm like Frank. I'm damned if I see what you're driving at. (He takes COL. ROKEBY'S arm and impels him from the room. The COLONEL glances back as he goes.)
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