Major Barbara, George Bernard Shaw [bookstand for reading txt] 📗

bargain closed, Dolly? Does your soul belong to him now? Cusins No: the price is settled: that is all. The real tug of war is still to come. What about the moral question? Lady Britomart There is no moral question in the matter at all, Adolphus. You must simply sell cannons and weapons to people whose cause is right and just, and refuse them to foreigners and criminals. Undershaft Determinedly. No: none of that. You must keep the true faith of an Armorer, or you don’t come in here. Cusins What on earth is the true faith of an Armorer? Undershaft To give arms to all men who offer an honest price for them, without respect of persons or principles: to aristocrat and republican, to Nihilist and Tsar, to Capitalist and Socialist, to Protestant and Catholic, to burglar and policeman, to black man, white man and yellow man, to all sorts and conditions, all nationalities, all faiths, all follies, all causes and all crimes. The first Undershaft wrote up in his shop If God Gave The Hand, Let Not Man Withhold The Sword. The second wrote up All Have The Right To Fight: None Have The Right To Judge. The third wrote up To Man The Weapon: To Heaven The Victory. The fourth had no literary turn; so he did not write up anything; but he sold cannons to Napoleon under the nose of George the Third. The fifth wrote up Peace Shall Not Prevail Save With A Sword In Her Hand. The sixth, my master, was the best of all. He wrote up Nothing Is Ever Done In This World Until Men Are Prepared To Kill One Another If It Is Not Done. After that, there was nothing left for the seventh to say. So he wrote up, simply, Unashamed. Cusins My good Machiavelli, I shall certainly write something up on the wall; only, as I shall write it in Greek, you won’t be able to read it. But as to your Armorer’s faith, if I take my neck out of the noose of my own morality I am not going to put it into the noose of yours. I shall sell cannons to whom I please and refuse them to whom I please. So there! Undershaft From the moment when you become Andrew Undershaft, you will never do as you please again. Don’t come here lusting for power, young man. Cusins If power were my aim I should not come here for it. You have no power. Undershaft None of my own, certainly. Cusins I have more power than you, more will. You do not drive this place: it drives you. And what drives the place? Undershaft Enigmatically. A will of which I am a part. Barbara Startled. Father! Do you know what you are saying; or are you laying a snare for my soul? Cusins Don’t listen to his metaphysics, Barbara. The place is driven by the most rascally part of society, the money hunters, the pleasure hunters, the military promotion hunters; and he is their slave. Undershaft Not necessarily. Remember the Armorer’s Faith. I will take an order from a good man as cheerfully as from a bad one. If you good people prefer preaching and shirking to buying my weapons and fighting the rascals, don’t blame me. I can make cannons: I cannot make courage and conviction. Bah! You tire me, Euripides, with your morality mongering. Ask Barbara: she understands. He suddenly takes Barbara’s hands, and looks powerfully into her eyes. Tell him, my love, what power really means. Barbara Hypnotized. Before I joined the Salvation Army, I was in my own power; and the consequence was that I never knew what to do with myself. When I joined it, I had not time enough for all the things I had to do. Undershaft Approvingly. Just so. And why was that, do you suppose? Barbara Yesterday I should have said, because I was in the power of God. She resumes her self-possession, withdrawing her hands from his with a power equal to his own. But you came and showed me that I was in the power of Bodger and Undershaft. Today I feel⁠—oh! how can I put it into words? Sarah: do you remember the earthquake at Cannes, when we were little children?⁠—how little the surprise of the first shock mattered compared to the dread and horror of waiting for the second? That is how I feel in this place today. I stood on the rock I thought eternal; and without a word of warning it reeled and crumbled under me. I was safe with an infinite wisdom watching me, an army marching to Salvation with me; and in a moment, at a stroke of your pen in a cheque book, I stood alone; and the heavens were empty. That was the first shock of the earthquake: I am waiting for the second. Undershaft Come, come, my daughter! Don’t make too much of your little tinpot tragedy. What do we do here when we spend years of work and thought and thousands of pounds of solid cash on a new gun or an aerial battleship that turns out just a hairsbreadth wrong after all? Scrap it. Scrap it without wasting another hour or another pound on it. Well, you have made for yourself something that you call a morality or a religion or whatnot. It doesn’t fit the facts. Well, scrap it. Scrap it and get one that does fit. That is what is wrong with the world at present. It scraps its obsolete steam engines and dynamos; but it won’t scrap its old prejudices and its old moralities and its old religions and its old political constitutions. What’s the result? In machinery it does very well; but in morals and religion and politics it is working at a loss that brings it nearer bankruptcy every year. Don’t persist in that folly. If your old religion broke down yesterday, get a newer and a better one for tomorrow. Barbara Oh how gladly I would take a