Getting Married

much active service not to know that every man’s nerve plays him false at one time or another, and that some very honorable men should never go into action at all, because they’re not built that way. But if I were you I should not use that visiting card. No doubt it’s an honorable trait in your character that you don’t wish any man to give you his hand in ignorance of your disgrace; but you had better allow us to forget. We wish to forget. It isn’t your disgrace alone: it’s a disgrace to the army and to all of us. Pardon my plain speaking. Hotchkiss Sunnily. My dear General, I don’t know what fear means in the military sense of the word. I’ve fought seven duels with the sabre in Italy and Austria, and one with pistols in France, without turning a hair. There was no other way in which I could vindicate my motives in refusing to make that attack at Smutsfontein. I don’t pretend to be a brave man. I’m afraid of wasps. I’m afraid of cats. In spite of the voice of reason, I’m afraid of ghosts; and twice I’ve fled across Europe from false alarms of cholera. But afraid to fight I am not. He turns gaily to Reginald and slaps him on the shoulder. Eh, Rejjy? Reginald grunts. The General Then why did you not do your duty at Smutsfontein? Hotchkiss I did my duty⁠—my higher duty. If I had made that attack, my commanding officer’s plan would have been successful, and he would have been promoted. Now I happen to think that the British Army should be commanded by gentlemen, and by gentlemen alone. This man was not a gentleman. I sacrificed my military career⁠—I faced disgrace and social ostracism rather than give that man his chance. The General Generously indignant. Your commanding officer, sir, was my friend Major Billiter. Hotchkiss Precisely. What a name! The General And pray, sir, on what ground do you dare allege that Major Billiter is not a gentleman? Hotchkiss By an infallible sign: one of those trifles that stamp a man. He eats rice pudding with a spoon. The General Very angry. Confound you, I eat rice pudding with a spoon. Now! Hotchkiss Oh, so do I, frequently. But there are ways of doing these things. Billiter’s way was unmistakable. The General Well, I’ll tell you something now. When I thought you were only a coward, I pitied you, and would have done what I could to help you back to your place in Society⁠— Hotchkiss Interrupting him. Thank you: I haven’t lost it. My motives have been fully appreciated. I was made an honorary member of two of the smartest clubs in London when the truth came out. The General Well, sir, those clubs consist of snobs; and you are a jumping, bounding, prancing, snorting snob yourself. The Bishop Amused, but hospitably remonstrant. My dear Boxer! Hotchkiss Delighted. How kind of you to say so, General! You’re quite right: I am a snob. Why not? The whole strength of England lies in the fact that the enormous majority of the English people are snobs. They insult poverty. They despise vulgarity. They love nobility. They admire exclusiveness. They will not obey a man risen from the ranks. They never trust one of their own class. I agree with them. I share their instincts. In my undergraduate days I was a Republican-a Socialist. I tried hard to feel toward a common man as I do towards a duke. I couldn’t. Neither can you. Well, why should we be ashamed of this aspiration towards what is above us? Why don’t I say that an honest man’s the noblest work of God? Because I don’t think so. If he’s not a gentleman, I don’t care whether he’s honest or not: I shouldn’t let his son marry my daughter. And that’s the test, mind. That’s the test. You feel as I do. You are a snob in fact: I am a snob, not only in fact, but on principle. I shall go down in history, not as the first snob, but as the first avowed champion of English snobbery, and its first martyr in the army. The navy boasts two such martyrs in Captains Kirby and Wade, who were shot for refusing to fight under Admiral Benbow, a promoted cabin boy. I have always envied them their glory. The General As a British General, Sir, I have to inform you that if any officer under my command violated the sacred equality of our profession by putting a single jot of his duty or his risk on the shoulders of the humblest drummer boy, I’d shoot him with my own hand. Hotchkiss That sentiment is not your equality, General, but your superiority. Ask the Bishop. He seats himself on the edge of the table. The Bishop I can’t support you, Sinjon. My profession also compels me to turn my back on snobbery. You see, I have to do such a terribly democratic thing to every child that is brought to me. Without distinction of class I have to confer on it a rank so high and awful that all the grades in Debrett and Burke seem like the medals they give children in Infant Schools in comparison. I’m not allowed to make any class distinction. They are all soldiers and servants, not officers and masters. Hotchkiss Ah, you’re quoting the Baptism service. That’s not a bit real, you know. If I may say so, you would both feel so much more at peace with yourselves if you would acknowledge and confess your real convictions. You know you don’t really think a Bishop the equal of a curate, or a lieutenant in a line regiment the equal of a general. The Bishop Of course I do. I was a curate myself. The General And I was a lieutenant in a line regiment. Reginald And I was nothing. But we’re all our own and one another’s equals, aren’t we? So perhaps when you’ve