George Bernard Shaw a penn State Electronic Classics Series Publication

The executioner takes the rope from Richard’s neck, unties has
hands, and helps him on with his coat.
JUDITH 
(stealing timidly to Anderson). Tony.

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68
The Devil’s Disciple
ANDERSON 
(putting his arm round her shoulders and ban-
tering her affectionately). Well what do you think of you hus-
band, now, eh?—eh??—eh???
JUDITH
. I am ashamed— (She hides her face against his
breast.)
BURGOYNE 
(to Swindon). You look disappointed, Major
Swindon.
SWINDON
. You look defeated, General Burgoyne.
BURGOYNE
. I am, sir; and I am humane enough to be
glad of it. (Richard jumps down from the cart, Brudenell offer-
ing his hand to help him, and runs to Anderson, whose left
hand he shakes heartily, the right being occupied by Judith.) By
the way, Mr. Anderson, I do not quite understand. The safe-
conduct was for a commander of the militia. I understand
you are a—(he looks as pointedly as his good manners permit at
the riding boots, the pistols, and Richard’s coat, and adds) a
clergyman.
ANDERSON 
(between Judith and Richard). Sir: it is in the
hour of trial that a man finds his true profession. This fool-
ish young man (placing his hand on Richard’s shoulder) boasted
himself the Devil’s Disciple; but when the hour of trial came
to him, he found that it was his destiny to suffer and be
faithful to the death. I thought myself a decent minister of
the gospel of peace; but when the hour of trial came to me, I
found that it was my destiny to be a man of action and that
my place was amid the thunder of the captains and the shout-
ing. So I am starting life at fifty as Captain Anthony Ander-
son of the Springtown militia; and the Devil’s Disciple here
will start presently as the Reverend Richard Dudgeon, and
wag his pow in my old pulpit, and give good advice to this
silly sentimental little wife of mine (putting his other hand on
her shoulder. She steals a glance at Richard to see how the pros-
pect pleases him). Your mother told me, Richard, that I should
never have chosen Judith if I’d been born for the ministry. I
am afraid she was right; so, by your leave, you may keep my
coat and I’ll keep yours.
RICHARD
. Minister—I should say Captain. I have behaved
like a fool.
JUDITH
. Like a hero.
RICHARD
. Much the same thing, perhaps. (With some bit-
terness towards himself) But no: if I had been any good, I
should have done for you what you did for me, instead of
making a vain sacrifice.
ANDERSON
. Not vain, my boy. It takes all sorts to make a
world —saints as well as soldiers. (Turning to Burgoyne) And

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69
GB Shaw
now, General, time presses; and America is in a hurry. Have
you realized that though you may occupy towns and win
battles, you cannot conquer a nation?
BURGOYNE
. My good sir, without a Conquest you cannot
have an aristocracy. Come and settle the matter at my quar-
ters.
ANDERSON
. At your service, sir. (To Richard) See Judith
home for me, will you, my boy? (He hands her over to him.)
Now General. (He goes busily up the market place towards the
Town Hall, Leaving Judith and Richard together. Burgoyne fol-
lows him a step or two; then checks himself and turns to Richard.)
BURGOYNE
. Oh, by the way, Mr. Dudgeon, I shall be glad
to see you at lunch at half-past one. (He pauses a moment,
and adds, with politely veiled slyness) Bring Mrs. Anderson, if
she will be so good. (To Swindon, who is fuming) Take it
quietly, Major Swindon: your friend the British soldier can
stand up to anything except the British War Office. (He fol-
lows Anderson.)
SERGEANT 
(to Swindon). What orders, sir?
SWINDON 
(savagely). Orders! What use are orders now?
There’s no army. Back to quarters; and be d— (He tunes on
his heel and goes.)
SERGEANT 
(pugnacious and patriotic, repudiating the idea
of defeat). ‘Tention. Now then: cock up your chins, and
show’em you don’t care a damn for ‘em. Slope arms! Fours!
Wheel! Quick march!
The drum marks time with a tremendous bang; the band strikes
up British Grenadiers; and the sergeant, Brudenell, and the
English troops march off defiantly to their quarters. The townsfolk
press in behind, and follow them up the market, jeering at them;
and the town band, a very primitive affair, brings up the rear,
playing Yankee Doodle. Essie, who comes in with them, runs to
Richard.
ESSIE
. Oh, Dick!
RICHARD 
(good-humoredly, but wilfully). Now, now: come,
come! I don’t mind being hanged; but I will not be cried
over.
ESSIE
. No, I promise. I’ll be good. (She tries to restrain her
tears, but cannot.) I—I want to see where the soldiers are
going to. (She goes a little way up the market, pretending to
look after the crowd.)
JUDITH
. Promise me you will never tell him.
RICHARD
. Don’t be afraid.

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70
The Devil’s Disciple
They shake hands on it.
ESSIE 
(calling to them). They’re coming back. They want
you.
Jubilation in the market. The townsfolk surge back again in
wild enthusiasm with their band, and hoist Richard on their
shoulders, cheering him.
CURTAIN.