Arms and the Man
By George Bernard Shaw
Study Guide Compiled By RainbowofSoul
Summary
The play begins in the bedroom of Raina Petkoff in a Bulgarian town in 1885, during the Serbo-Bulgarian
War. As the play opens, Catherine Petkoff and her daughter, Raina, have just heard that the Bulgarians
have scored a tremendous victory in a cavalry charge led by Raina’s fiancé, Major Sergius Saranoff, who
is in the same regiment as Raina’s father, Major Paul Petkoff. Raina is so impressed with the noble deeds
of her fiancé that she fears that she might never be able to live up to his nobility. At this very moment,
the maid, Louka, rushes in with the news that the Serbs are being chased through the streets and that it
is necessary to lock up the house and all of the windows. Raina promises to do so later, and Louka
leaves. But as Raina is reading in bed, shots are heard, there is a noise at the balcony window, and a
bedraggled enemy soldier with a gun appears and threatens to kill her if she makes a sound. After the
soldier and Raina exchange some words, Louka calls from outside the door; she says that several soldiers
want to search the house and investigate a report that an enemy Serbian soldier was seen climbing her
balcony. When Raina hears the news, she turns to the soldier. He says that he is prepared to die, but he
certainly plans to kill a few Bulgarian soldiers in her bedroom before he dies. Thus, Raina impetuously
decides to hide him. The soldiers investigate, find no one, and leave. Raina then calls the man out from
hiding; she nervously and absentmindedly sits on his gun, but she learns that it is not loaded; the soldier
carries no cartridges. He explains that instead of carrying bullets, he always carries chocolates into
battle. Furthermore, he is not an enemy; he is a Swiss, a professional soldier hired by Serbia. Raina gives
him the last of her chocolate creams, which he devours, maintaining that she has indeed saved his life.
Now that the Bulgarian soldiers are gone, Raina wants the “chocolate cream soldier” (as she calls him)
to climb back down the drainpipe, but he refuses to; whereas he could climb up, he hasn’t the strength
to climb down. When Raina goes after her mother to help, the “chocolate cream soldier” crawls into
Raina’s bed and falls instantly asleep. In fact, when they re-enter, he is sleeping so soundly that they
cannot awaken him.
Act II begins four months later in the garden of Major Petkoff’s house. The middle-aged servant Nicola is
lecturing Louka on the importance of having proper respect for the upper class, but Louka has too
independent a soul to ever be a “proper” servant. She has higher plans for herself than to marry
someone like Nicola, who, she insists, has the “soul of a servant.” Major Petkoff arrives home from the
war, and his wife Catherine greets him with two bits of information: she suggests that Bulgaria should
have annexed Serbia, and she tells him that she has had an electric bell installed in the library. Major
Sergius Saranoff, Raina’s fiancé and leader of the successful cavalry charge, arrives, and in the course of
discussing the end of the war, he and Major Petkoff recount the now-famous story of how a Swiss
soldier escaped by climbing up a balcony and into the bedroom of a noble Bulgarian woman. The
women are shocked that such a crude story would be told in front of them. When the Petkoffs go into
the house, Raina and Sergius discuss their love for one another, and Raina romantically declares that the
two of them have found a “higher love.”
When Raina goes to get her hat so that they can go for a walk, Louka comes in, and Sergius asks if she
knows how tiring it is to be involved with a “higher love.” Then he immediately tries to embrace the
attractive maid. Since he is being so blatantly familiar, Louka declares that Miss Raina is no better than
she; Raina, she says, has been having an affair while Sergius was away, but she refuses to tell Sergius
who Raina’s lover is, even though Sergius accidently bruises Louka’s arm while trying to wrest a
confession from her. When he apologizes, Louka insists that he kiss her arm, but Sergius refuses and, at
that moment, Raina re-enters. Sergius is then called away, and Catherine enters. The two ladies discuss
how incensed they both are that Sergius related the tale about the escaping soldier. Raina, however,
doesn’t care if Sergius hears about it; she is tired of his stiff propriety. At that moment, Louka announces
the presence of a Swiss officer with a carpetbag, calling for the lady of the house. His name is Captain
Bluntschli. Instantly, they both know he is the “chocolate cream soldier” who is returning the Major’s
old coat that they disguised him in. As they make rapid, desperate plans to send him away, Major
Petkoff hails Bluntschli and greets him warmly as the person who aided them in the final negotiations of
the war; the old Major insists that Bluntschli must their houseguest until he has to return to Switzerland.
Act III begins shortly after lunch and takes place in the library. Captain Bluntschli is attending to a large
amount of confusing paperwork in a very efficient manner, while Sergius and Major Petkoff merely
observe. Major Petkoff complains about a favorite old coat being lost, but at that moment Catherine
rings the new library bell, sends Nicola after the coat, and astounds the Major by thus retrieving his lost
coat. When Raina and Bluntschli are left alone, she compliments him on his looking so handsome now
that he is washed and brushed. Then she assumes a high and noble tone and chides him concerning
certain stories which he has told and the fact that she has had to lie for him. Bluntschli laughs at her
“noble attitude” and says that he is pleased with her demeanor. Raina is amused; she says that
Bluntschli is the first person to ever see through her pretensions, but she is perplexed that he didn’t feel
into the pockets of the old coat which she lent him; she had placed a photo of herself there with the
inscription “To my Chocolate Cream Soldier.” At this moment, a telegram is brought to Bluntschli
relating the death of his father and the necessity of his coming home immediately to make
arrangements for the six hotels that he has inherited. As Raina and Bluntschli leave the room, Louka
comes in wearing her sleeve in a ridiculous fashion so that her bruise will be obvious. Sergius enters and
asks if he can cure it now with a kiss. Louka questions his true bravery; she wonders if he has the
courage to marry a woman who is socially beneath him, even if he loved the woman. Sergius asserts that
he would, but he is now engaged to a girl so noble that all such talk is absurd. Louka then lets him know
that Bluntschli is his rival and that Raina will marry the Swiss soldier. Sergius is incensed. He sees
Bluntschli and immediately challenges him to a duel; then he retracts when Raina comes in and accuses
him of making love to Louka merely to spy on her and Bluntschli. As they are arguing, Bluntschli asks for
Louka, who has been eavesdropping at the door. She is brought in, Sergius apologizes to her, kisses her
hand, and thus they become engaged. Bluntschli asks permission to become a suitor for Raina’s hand,
and when he lists all of the possessions which he has (200 horses, 9600 pairs of sheets, ten thousand
knives and forks, etc.), permission for the marriage is granted, and Bluntschli says that he will return in
two weeks to marry Raina. Succumbing with pleasure, Raina gives a loving smile to her “chocolate cream
soldier.”
Character List
Captain Bluntschli A professional soldier from Switzerland who is serving in the Serbian army. He is
thirty-four years old, and he is totally realistic about the stupidity of war.
Raina Petkoff The romantic idealist of twenty-three who views war in terms of noble and heroic deeds.
Sergius Saranoff The extremely handsome young Bulgarian officer who leads an attack against the Serbs
which was an overwhelming success.
Major Petkoff The inept, fifty-year-old father of Raina; he is wealthy by Bulgarian standards, but he is
also unread, uncouth, and incompetent.
Catherine Petkoff Raina’s mother; she looks like and acts like a peasant, but she wears fashionable
dressing gowns and tea gowns all the time in an effort to appear to be a Viennese lady.
Louka The Petkoffs’ female servant; she is young and physically attractive, and she uses her appearance
for ambitious preferment.
Nicola A realistic, middle-aged servant who is very practical.
About Arms and the Man
One of Shaw’s aims in this play is to debunk the romantic heroics of war; he wanted to present a
realistic account of war and to remove all pretensions of nobility from war. It is not, however, an antiwar play; instead, it is a satire on those attitudes which would glorify war. To create this satire, Shaw
chose as his title the opening lines of Virgil’s Aeneid, the Roman epic which glorifies war and the heroic
feats of man in war, and which begins, “Of arms and the man I sing. . . .”
When the play opens, we hear about the glorious exploits which were performed by Major Sergius
Saranoff during his daring and magnificent cavalry raid, an event that turned the war against the Serbs
toward victory for the Bulgarians. He thus becomes Raina Petkoff’s ideal hero; yet the more that we
learn about this raid, the more we realize that it was a futile, ridiculous gesture, one that bordered on an
utter suicidal escapade.
In contrast, Captain Bluntschli’s actions in Raina’s bedroom strike us, at first, as being the actions of a
coward. (Bluntschli is a Swiss, a professional soldier fighting for the Serbs.) He climbs up a water pipe
and onto a balcony to escape capture, he threatens a defenseless woman with his gun, he allows her to
hide him behind the curtains, and then he reveals that he carries chocolates rather than cartridges in his
cartridge box because chocolates are more practical on the battlefield. Yet, as the play progresses,
Bluntschli’s unheroic actions become reasonable when we see that he survives, whereas had the war
continued, Sergius’ absurd heroic exploits would soon have left him dead.
Throughout the play, Shaw arranged his material so as to satirize the glories associated with war and to
ultimately suggest that aristocratic pretensions have no place in today’s wars, which are won by using
business-like efficiency, such as the practical matters of which Bluntschli is a master. For example,
Bluntschli is able to deal with the business of dispensing an army to another town with ease, while this
was a feat that left the aristocrats (Majors Petkoff and Saranoff) completely baffled. This early play by
Shaw, therefore, cuts through the noble ideals of war and the “higher love” that Raina and Sergius claim
to share; Arms and the Man presents a world where the practical man who lives with no illusions and no
poetic views about either love or war is shown to be the superior creature.
Summary and Analysis
Preface
Unlike Pygmalion or many of Shaw’s other plays, there is no actual, separate preface to this particular
play. However, there was a preface to the original volume of plays which contains this play and three
others: The Pleasant Plays, 1898, revised in 1921. As Shaw noted elsewhere, a preface seldom or never
concerns the play which is to follow the preface, and this preface is no exception. Instead, Shaw used
this preface to comment upon the new style of drama (or simply what he calls New Drama), a name
applied to dramas such as his or Ibsen’s, plays which were not written to be commercial successes, but
to be intellectual vehicles which would make the audience consider (or think about) their life — to be
intellectually aware of their historical place in civilization. Shaw refuses to pander himself to popular
demands for romantic (and thus unbelievable and unrealistic) situations. Ultimately, according to Shaw,
the theater should become a place for the airing of ideas and a place where sham and pretense can be
exposed in a way that is delightful to the audience.
Act I
Summary
The play opens at night in a lady’s bedchamber in a small Bulgarian town in 1885, the year of the SerboBulgarian war. The room is decorated in the worst possible taste, a taste reflected in the mistress’
(Catherine Petkoff’s) desire to seem as cultured and as Viennese as possible. But the room is furnished
with only cheap bits of Viennese things; the other pieces of furniture come from the Turkish Ottoman
Empire, reflecting the long occupation by the Turks of the Balkan peninsula. On the balcony, standing
and staring at the romantic beauty of the night, “intensely conscious that her own youth and beauty are
a part of it,” is young Raina Petkoff. Just inside, conspicuously visible, is a box of chocolate creams,
which will play an important part later in this act and which will ultimately become a symbol of the type
of war which Shaw will satirize.
Raina’s mother, Catherine Petkoff, is a woman who could easily pass for a splendid specimen of the wife
of a mountain fanner, but is determined to be a Viennese lady. As the play begins, Catherine is excited
over the news that the Bulgarian forces have just won a splendid battle at Slivnitza against the Serbians,
and the “hero of the hour, the idol of the regiment” who led them to victory is Raina’s fiancé, Sergius
Saranoff. She describes how Sergius boldly led a cavalry charge into the midst of the Serbs, scattering
them in all directions. Raina wonders if such a popular hero will care any longer for her little affections,
but she is nonetheless delighted about the news. She wonders if heroes such as Sergius esteem such
heroic ideas because they have read too much Byron and Pushkin. Real life, as she knows, is quite
different.
They are interrupted by the entry of Louka, a handsome and proud peasant girl, who announces that the
Serbs have been routed and have scattered throughout the town and that some of the fugitives have
been chased into the neighborhood. Thus, the doors must be secured since there might be fighting and
shooting in the street below. Raina is annoyed that the fugitives must be killed, but she is immediately
corrected — in war, everyone can be killed. Catherine goes below to fasten up the doors, and Louka
shows Raina how to fasten the shutters if there is any shooting and then leaves to help bolt the rest of
the house.
Left alone, Raina picks up her fiancé’s picture, raises it above her head like a priestess worshipping it,
and calls the portrait her “soul’s hero.” As she prepares for bed, shots are suddenly heard in the
distance and then some more shots are heard; these are much nearer. She scrambles out of bed, rapidly
blows out the candles, and immediately darts back into bed. She hears more shots, and then she hears
someone tampering with the shutters from outside; there is a glimmer of light, and then someone
strikes a match and warns her not to try to run away. Raina is told to light a candle, and after she does
so, she is able to see a man in a Serbian’s officer’s uniform; he is completely bespattered with mud and
blood, and he warns her that if it becomes necessary, he will shoot her because if he is caught, he will be
killed — and he has no intention of dying. When they hear a disturbance outside the house, the Serbian
officer quickly snatches Raina’s cloak that she is about to use to cover herself; ungentlemanlike, he
keeps it, knowing that she won’t want a group of army officers searching her room when she is clad in
only a sheer nightgown. There is more noise downstairs, and Louka is heard at the door; she says that
there is a search party downstairs, and if Raina doesn’t let them in, they will break down the door.
Suddenly the Serbian officer loses his courage; he tells Raina that he is done for. He will shoot the first
man who breaks in and “it will not be nice.” Raina impulsively changes her mind and decides to hide him
behind the curtains. Catherine, Louka, and a Russian officer dressed in a Bulgarian uniform enter, and
after inspecting the balcony and hearing Raina testify that no one came in, they leave. (Louka, however,
notices something behind the curtain and sees the revolver lying on the ottoman; she says nothing,
however.) Raina slams and locks the door after them.
When the Serbian officer emerges and offers his thanks, he explains that he is not really a Serbian
officer; he is a professional soldier, a Swiss citizen, in fact, and he now wishes that he had joined with
the Bulgarians rather than with the Serbs. He asks to stay a minute to collect his thoughts, and Raina
agrees, deciding to sit down also, but as she sits on the ottoman, she sits on the man’s pistol, and she
lets out a scream. Raina now realizes what it was that Louka was staring at, and she is surprised that the
others didn’t notice it. She is frightened of the gun, but the soldier tells her there is no need to be — it is
not loaded: he keeps chocolates rather than bullets in his cartridge holder. In fact, he wishes he had
some chocolates now. In mock scorn, Raina goes to the chest of drawers and returns with a half-eaten
box of chocolates, the remainder of which he immediately devours. Raina is shocked to hear him say
that only foolish young soldiers or else stupid ones like those in charge of the recent attack on the Serbs
at Slivnitza carry bullets; wise and experienced soldiers carry chocolates. Then he offends her further
(and still innocently, of course) by explaining how unprofessional the cavalry charge against the Serbians
was, and if there had not been a stupid mistake on the part of the Serbs, the Bulgarians would have
been massacred. Then the soldier says that the Bulgarian “hero,” the leader of the troops, acted “like an
operatic tenor . . . shouting his war-cry and charging like Don Quixote at the windmills.” He says that the
fellow was the laughingstock of everyone present: “Of all the fools let loose on a field of battle, that man
must be the very maddest.” Only a stupid mistake carried the day for him. Raina then takes the portrait
of Sergius and shows it to the officer, who agrees that this was indeed the person who was “charging
the windmills and imagining he was doing the finest thing.”
Angry at the derogatory remarks about her “heroic” betrothed, Raina orders the stranger to leave. But
he balks; he says that whereas he could climb up the balcony, he simply can’t face the descent. He is so
exhausted that he tells her to simply give out the alarm — he’s beaten. Raina tries to spark some
courage in him, but realizes that he is more prudent than daring. Raina is at a loss; she simply doesn’t
know what to do with him: he can’t be caught in the Petkoff house, the richest house in Bulgaria and the
only one to have a library and an inside staircase. She then remembers an opera by Verdi, Ernani, in
which a fugitive throws himself on the mercy of some aristocratic people; she thinks that perhaps this
might be the solution because, according to the opera, the hospitality of a nobleman is sacred and
inviolable. In response, the soldier tells her that his father is a hospitable man himself; in fact, he owns
six hotels in Switzerland. Then falling asleep, he kisses her hand. Raina panics. She insists that he stay
awake until she can fetch her mother, but before she can get out of the room, he has crawled into her
bed and is asleep in such a trance that when Raina returns with her mother, they cannot shake him
awake. His fatigue is so great that Raina tells her mother: “The poor darling is worn out. Let him sleep.”
This comment arouses Catherine’s stern reproach, and the curtain falls on the first act.
Analysis
In reading a Shavian play, one should pay attention to Shaw’s staging directions at the beginning of the
act. The stage directions here call for the scenery to convey the impression of cheap Viennese
pretentious aristocracy incongruously combined with good, solid Bulgarian commonplace items.
Likewise, since Raina will ultimately be seen as a person who will often assume a pose for dramatic
effect, the act opens with her being (in Shaw’s words) “intensely conscious of the romantic beauty of
the night and of the fact that her own youth and beauty are part of it.” As we find out later, she even
listens at doors and waits until the proper moment to make the most effective, dramatic entrance.
As noted in the “Introduction” to these notes, the title of this play is ironic since it comes from the
opening line of Virgil’s Aeneid (“Of arms and the man I sing. . . .”), an epic which glorifies war and the
hero in battle. Shaw will use the idea of the hero (Sergius) in war (the Serbo-Bulgarian war) in order to
satirize not merely war itself, but the romantic glorification of war. In addition to this goal, he will also
satirize romantic notions of valor and courage, affectation and pretense, and most important, misguided
idealism. The dramatic shift that will occur in the play involves two romantic idealists (Raina and Sergius)
who, rejecting their original positions instead of marrying each other, will each become engaged to a
practical realist — Sergius to the practical and attractive servant, Louka, and Raina to the professional
realist, Captain Bluntschli.
Raina is seen, at first, as the romantic idealist, but she is also characterized as being a fleeting realist
when she wonders if her idealism and Sergius’ idealism might be due simply to the fact that they have
read so much poetry by Byron and other romantics. Likewise, Raina wants to glory in the noble idealism
of the war, but she is also deeply troubled by its cruelty: “What glory is there in killing wretched
fugitives?” In this early comment, we have her rationale for her later hiding and, thus, her saving
Bluntschli’s life.
Before meeting Bluntschli, Raina seems to want to live according to the romantic idealism to which she
and Sergius aspire. She knows that he has, in effect, placed her on too high a pedestal, but she does
want to make an effort to live “up to his high standards.” For example, after hearing of his heroic feats,
she holds up his photo and “elevates it, like a priestess,” vowing never to be unworthy of him. This vow,
however, as we soon see, will not last too long.
Captain Bluntschli’s arrival through the balcony doors is, in itself, a highly melodramatic and romantic
stage entrance. In fact, almost everything about Act I is contrived — the lady’s bedroom, the
concealment of the fugitive behind a curtain, the threat of a bloody fight, the matter of chocolate
creams, and, finally, the enemy soldier falling asleep in the lady’s bed — all of this smacks of artificiality
and is juxtaposed against Captain Bluntschli’s realistic appraisal of war and his matter-of-fact assertion
that, from a practical viewpoint, Sergius’ military charge was as foolish as Don Quixote’s charge on the
Windmills. And actually, while Raina ridicules Captain Bluntschli for his cowardice, for his hiding behind a
woman’s curtains, for his inordinate fear (he has been under fire for three days and his nerves are “shot
to pieces”), and for his extraordinary desire for chocolate creams, she is nevertheless attracted to him,
and even though she pretends to be offended at his comments about Sergius, she is secretly happy that
her fiancé is not as perfect as we were earlier led to believe that he was.
At the end of the act, Raina returns to her artificial pretensions as she tries to impress Bluntschli with
her family’s aristocratic aspirations, bragging that her father chose the only house in the city with an
inside stairway, and a library, and, furthermore, Raina says, she attends the opera every year in
Bucharest. Ironically, it is from romantic operas that Raina derives many of her romantic ideals, and she
uses one of Verdi’s romantic operas as her rationale for hiding this practical Swiss professional soldier.
The final irony of the act is that the professional man of war is sleeping as soundly as a baby in Raina’s
bed, with her hovering over him, feeling protective about him.
Act II
Summary
Some four months have passed since the first act, and a peace treaty has just been signed. The setting
for this act is in Major Petkoff’s garden. Louka is standing onstage in a disrespectful attitude, smoking a
cigarette and talking to Nicola, a middle-aged servant who has “the complacency of the servant who
values himself on his rank in servitude.” The opening dialogue informs us that Nicola is engaged to
Louka, but that he has reservations about her deportment. He refuses to marry a person who is
“disrespectful” to her superiors; he plans to open a shop in Sofia, and he thinks that the success of the
shop will depend on the goodwill of his employees, and he knows that if they spread bad reports about
him, his shop will never be successful. When Louka maintains that she knows secret things about the
mistress and the master, Nicola reminds her that all servants know secrets about their employers, but
the secret of being a good servant is to keep these things secret and to always be discreet; if servants
begin telling secrets, then no one will ever employ them again. Louka is furious and says that Nicola has
“the soul of a servant”; Nicola agrees — “That is,” he says, “the secret of success in service.”
Their discussion is interrupted by the entrance of Major Petkoff, an “insignificant, unpolished man” who
has just returned from the war. He sends Louka into the house to get his wife and to also bring him
some coffee. Catherine comes out and welcomes her husband, and he tells her that the war is over, the
peace treaty is signed, and all is now peaceful. When he inquires about his wife’s health, she tells him
that she has a sore throat. The Major maintains that the soreness comes “from washing [her] neck every
day.” He himself does not believe in these silly modern notions of washing. “It can’t be good for the
health; it’s not natural. There was an Englishman at Philippopolis who used to wet himself all over with
cold water every morning when he got up.” He maintains that the English climate is so dirty that the
English have to wash, but others don’t; his father, for example, lived to be ninety-eight years old and
never had a bath in his entire life.
As Catherine is explaining to her husband about the installation of an electric bell in the library, the
Major is confused over its use because — in his opinion — if he wants someone, he will shout for them.
At this time, Major Sergius Saranoff arrives; he is “a tall romantically handsome man” and is the original
of the portrait in Raina’s room in the first act. He is roundly congratulated for his famous charge against
the Serbs. Sergius, however, does not appreciate the compliment, because even though he was
successful, he participated in a maneuver where the Russian consultants failed; thus, he did not
accomplish his great success by the rulebook. “Two Cossack colonels had their regiments routed on the
most correct principles of scientific warfare. [Furthermore,] Two major-generals got killed strictly
according to military etiquette,” and now the two colonels who failed are promoted to generals and he
(Sergius) who succeeded is still a major; therefore, he has resigned.
As Catherine is protesting that Sergius should not resign — the women, she says, are for him — Sergius
suddenly asks, “Where is Raina?” At that very moment, Raina enters sweepingly, announcing, “Raina is
here.” Sergius drops chivalrously on one knee to kiss her hand. While Raina’s father is impressed with
the fact that Raina “always appears at the right moment,” her mother is annoyed because she knows
that Raina always listens at doorways in order to make her entrance at exactly the right moment.
Catherine pronounces it to be “an abominable habit.”
Raina then welcomes her father home, and again they discuss Sergius’ military career. Sergius now
views war in a very cynical manner; according to him, there is nothing heroic nor romantic about it.
“Soldiering is the coward’s art of attacking mercilessly when you are strong, and keeping out of harm’s
way when you are weak. . . . Never fight [your enemy] on equal terms.” Furthermore, he now views
soldiering as having too much of the taint of being a trade business, and he despises trade; this is, of
course, an allusion to Captain Blutschli, who, of course, is in trade, and it is also a reference to Louka’s
fiancé, Nicola, who wants to go into trade. To prove his point, Sergius asks them all to consider the case
of the Swiss officer (Bluntschli) who was able to deal very shrewdly and to make clever bargains
concerning prisoners. As a result, soldiering has been “reduced to a matter of trading and bartering.” He
adds that the man was merely “a commercial traveler in uniform.”
Since the subject has come up, Major Petkoff encourages Sergius to tell the story about the Swiss officer
who climbed into a Bulgarian lady’s bedroom in order to escape capture. Raina, recognizing herself as
the woman of the story, pretends to be offended. Major Petkoff therefore tries to get Sergius to help
him with some army details, and Catherine instructs Sergius to remain with Raina while Catherine
discusses some business with her husband. By this ruse, she is able to leave the two young people alone.
Alone together, Raina looks upon Sergius with admiration and worship: “My hero! My king!” — to which
he responds, “My queen!” Raina sees Sergius only in terms of the knight of olden times who goes forth
to fight heroically, guided only by his lady’s love. She believes that the two of them have truly found
what she calls the perfect “higher love.” When Louka is heard entering the house, Raina leaves to get
her hat so that they can go for a walk and be alone. In Louka’s presence, Sergius swaggers a bit and then
asks Louka if she knows what “higher love” is. Whatever it is, he says, he finds it “fatiguing” to keep it
up: “one feels the need of some relief after it.” He then embraces Louka, who warns him to be careful,
or, at least, if he won’t let her go, he should step back where they cannot be seen. After she makes a sly
comment about the possibility of Raina’s spying on them, Sergius defends Raina and their “higher love,”
and Louka maintains that she will never understand “gentlefolk” because while Sergius is professing love
for Raina, he is flirting with her behind Raina’s back, and, furthermore, Raina is doing the same thing.
Sergius tries to reprimand Louka for gossiping so about her mistress, but he is visibly upset and
dramatically strikes his forehead. He insists that Louka tell him who his rival is, but she will not do so,
especially since he has just reprimanded her for talking about her mistress. She tells him that she never
actually saw the man; she only heard his voice outside Miss Raina’s bedroom. But she knows that if the
man ever comes here again, Raina will marry him. Sergius is furious, and he grips her so tightly that he
bruises her arm; he reminds her that because of her gossiping, she has the “soul of a servant,” the same
accusation which she made earlier about Nicola. Louka retaliates by pointing out that Sergius himself is a
liar, and, furthermore, she maintains that she is worth “six of her [Raina].” As Louka begins to leave,
Sergius wants to apologize for hurting a woman, no matter what the status of that woman is, but Louka
will not accept an apology; she wants more. When Sergius wants to pay her for the injury, Louka says
that she wants him to kiss her bruised arm. Surprised, Sergius refuses, and Louka majestically picks up
the serving pieces and leaves, just as Raina enters, dressed in the latest fashion of Vienna — of the
previous year. Immediately, Catherine calls down that her husband needs Sergius for a few minutes to
discuss a business matter.
When Sergius is gone, Catherine enters, and she and Raina express their irritation that “that Swiss” told
the entire story of his night in Raina’s bedroom. Raina maintains that if she had him here now she would
“cram him with chocolate creams.” Catherine is frightened that if Sergius finds out the truth about what
happened, the engagement will be broken off. Suddenly, however, Raina reveals that she would not
care, and that, furthermore, she has always wanted to say something dreadful so as to shock Sergius’
propriety, “to scandalize the five senses out of him.” She half-hopes that he will find out about her
“chocolate cream soldier.” She then leaves her mother in a state of shock.
Louka enters and announces the presence of a Serbian soldier at the door, a soldier who is asking for the
lady of the house; he has sent his card bearing his name, “Captain Bluntschli,” thus giving us for the first
time the name of the “chocolate cream soldier.” When Catherine reads the name and hears that the
caller is Swiss, she realizes that he is the “chocolate cream soldier” and that he is returning the old coat
of Major Petkoff’s which they gave him when he left. Catherine gives Louka strict instructions to make
sure that the library door is shut; then, Louka is to send in the captain and have Nicola bring the visitor’s
bag to her. When Louka returns with the captain, Catherine frantically explains that her husband and
future son-in-law are here and that he must leave immediately. Captain Bluntschli agrees reluctantly
and explains that he only wants to take the coat out of his bag, but Catherine urges him to leave it; she
will have his bag sent to him later. As Bluntschli is writing out his address, Major Petkoff comes in and
greets the captain warmly and enthusiastically. Immediately, Major Petkoff tells the captain that they
are in desperate need of help in working out the details of sending troops and horses to Philippopolis.
Captain Bluntschli immediately pinpoints the problem, and as they are about to go into the library to
explain the details, Raina enters and bumps into the captain and surprisedly exclaims loudly: “Oh! the
chocolate cream soldier.” She immediately regains her composure and explains that she was cooking a
kind of dessert and had made a chocolate cream soldier for its decoration and that Nicola sat a pile of
plates on it. At that moment, Nicola brings in the captain’s bag, saying that Catherine told him to do so;
when Catherine denies it, Major Petkoff thinks that Nicola must be losing his mind. He reprimands
Nicola (for doing what Nicola has been commanded to do), and at this point Nicola is so confused that
he drops the bag, almost hitting the Major’s foot. As the women try to placate the Major, he, in turn,
urges Captain Bluntschli to remain as their houseguest until he has to return to Switzerland. Even
though Catherine has been subtly suggesting that Captain Bluntschli leave, Bluntschli agrees to remain.
Analysis
Arms and the Man is an early Shavian play, and in it, Shaw used certain techniques that he was never to
use again. In the first act, for example, the entire act has a farcical note about it and the use of a screen
or a curtain for a character to hide behind was a traditional technique used only in comedies. The coat
episode in the third act is a contrived bit of farce that amuses the audience, but it cheapens the
intellectual aspect of the drama because it contributes nothing other than its own farcical element.
In Act II, the structure of the act is more serious, but it also uses several traditional farcical elements. For
example, there is the use of the exaggerated means whereby Sergius can deceive Raina while trying to
make love with Raina’s maid, the story told in the army camp about the soldier who escapes into a
lady’s bedroom (while the ladies of the story have to listen in pretended dismay), the sudden
appearance of the captain and the hasty decisions which the ladies must undertake, and finally the
sudden surprise that occurs when we discover that Captain Petkoff knows Bluntschli — all of these
circumstances are elements of melodrama or farce.
In the early part of the act, we see Louka as an ingenious maid who refuses to acknowledge that she has
“the soul of a servant,” a fault that she accuses Nicola of having. Later, however, when Sergius tells her
that she possesses the soul of a servant, his comment stings. We do, however, admire the way that
Louka is able to dismiss Nicola and to manipulate the supposedly superior and aristocratic Sergius.
When we meet Sergius and hear of his total disillusionment with war and with “soldiering [which] is the
coward’s art of attacking mercilessly when you are strong and keeping out of the way when you are
weak,” we are then prepared for the fact that Sergius will not be a romantic idealist for long. His new
views on war should prepare us for a significant change in his total outlook on life; thus, he will soon
reject Raina’s idealistic “higher love” in favor of a more direct love with the attractive and practical
Louka, a maid who says forthrightly that if Sergius is going to embrace her, then at least they should
stand back where they can’t be seen.
With Louka, Sergius can admit that there are at least six different people occupying himself and then
wonder aloud, “Which of the six is the real man? That’s the question that torments me.” We now know
that the real Sergius is not the one with whom Raina has fallen in love, the one with the “higher love.”
Thus, by the end of this act, Shaw has set up all of the necessary motives and reasons for Sergius and
Raina to break off their engagement and marry someone else.
Act III
Summary
This act shifts to the Petkoffs’ library, a setting which Shaw uses to let us know that this is a very poor
excuse for a library; it consists of only a single room with a single shelf of old worn-out paper-covered
novels; the rest of the room is more like a sitting room with another ottoman in it, just like the one in
Raina’s room in the first act. The room is also fitted with an old kitchen table which serves as a writing
table. At the opening of the act, Bluntschli is busy at work preparing orders, with a businesslike
regularity, for the disposition of the Bulgarian army. Petkoff is more of a hindrance than a help, for he
constantly interrupts to see if he can be of any help. Finally, his wife tells him to stop interrupting.
Petkoff, in turn, complains that all that he needs to be comfortable is his favorite old coat, which he
can’t find. Catherine rings for Nicola and tells the servant to go to the blue closet and fetch his master’s
old coat. Petkoff is so certain that it is not there that he is willing to make a bet of an expensive piece of
jewelry with her. Sergius is about to enter a bet also, but Nicola suddenly returns with the coat. Petkoff
is completely astonished and perplexed when Nicola announces that it was indeed hanging in the blue
closet.
At this moment, Bluntschli finishes the last order, gives it to Sergius to take to his soldiers, and then asks
Petkoff to follow to make sure that Sergius doesn’t make a mistake. Petkoff asks his wife to come along
because she is good at giving commands. Left alone with Raina, Bluntschli expresses his astonishment at
an army where “officers send for their wives to keep discipline.”
Raina then tells Captain Bluntschli how much better he looks now that he is clean, and she inquires
about his experiences after he left her bedroom. She lets him know that the entire story has been told
so many times that both her father and her fiancé are aware of the story, but not the identities of the
people involved. In fact, Raina believes that “if Sergius knew, he would challenge you and kill you in a
duel.” Bluntschli says that he hopes that Raina won’t tell, but Raina tells him of her desire to be perfectly
open and honest with Sergius. Because of Bluntschli, Raina says, she has now told two lies — one to the
soldiers looking for him in her room and another one just now about the chocolate pudding — and she
feels terrible about lying; Bluntschli cannot take her seriously. In fact, he tells her that when “you strike
that noble attitude and speak in that thrilling voice, I admire you; but I find it impossible to believe a
single word you say.” At first, Raina is indignant, but then she is highly amused that Bluntschli has seen
through the disguise that she has used since she was a child: “You know, I’ve always gone on like that,”
she tells him.
When Raina asks him what he thought of her for giving him a portrait of herself, Bluntschli tells her that
he never received it because he never reached into the pocket of the coat where Raina had put it. He is
not concerned until he learns that Raina inscribed upon it “To my Chocolate Cream Soldier.” In the
meantime, Bluntschli confesses, he pawned the coat, thinking that was the safest place for it. Raina is
furious, and she accuses him of having a “shopkeeping mind.” At this point, they are interrupted by
Louka, who brings Bluntschli some letters and telegrams, which inform him that his father has died and
that Bluntschli has inherited several hotels which he will have to manage. He must leave immediately.
Alarmed, Raina follows him out.
Nicola enters and sees Louka with her sleeve rolled up so as to expose her bruised arm, and he
reprimands her. Then they argue over the duties and obligations of being a servant. Louka says that she
absolutely refuses to act like a servant, and Nicola answers that he is quite willing to release her from
their engagement if she can better herself. Then, he would have another customer for his shop, one
who would bring him good business. When Sergius enters, Nicola leaves immediately, and Sergius,
noticing the bruise on Louka’s arm, asks if he can cure it now by kissing it. Louka reminds him of his
place and of hers. She wonders aloud if Sergius is a brave man and if poor people are any less brave than
wealthy people. Sergius answers that in war any man can have courage: “the courage to rage and [to]
kill is cheap.” Louka then asks if Sergius has true courage; that is, would he dare to marry someone
whom he loved if that person was socially beneath him? She asserts that she thinks that Sergius would
“be afraid of what other people would say,” and thus he would never have the courage to marry
beneath him. Sergius contradicts her until Louka tells him that Raina will never marry him, that Raina is
going to marry the Swiss soldier. As she turns to go, Sergius grabs her and holds her firmly; as he
threatens her and questions the truth of her accusation, she wonders if anyone would believe the fact
that she is now in his arms. He releases her with the assertion that if he ever touches her again, it will be
as her fiancé.
As Louka leaves, Bluntschli enters and is immediately told by Sergius where he is to be on the following
morning; they will duel on horseback and with sabres. Bluntschli maintains that as the challenged party,
it is his privilege to choose the weapons, and he plans to have a machine gun. But when Bluntschli sees
that Sergius is serious, he agrees to meet him with a sabre, but he refuses to fight on horseback because
it is too dangerous. Raina enters then, in time to hear their last arrangements. Bluntschli explains that
he is an expert with the sword and that he will see to it that neither of them are hurt; afterward, he will
leave immediately for Switzerland and no one will ever hear of the incident. Sergius then accuses
Bluntschli of receiving favors from Raina which he (Sergius) has never enjoyed — that is, she received
Bluntschli in her bedroom. Bluntschli points out that she did so “with a pistol at her head. . . . I’d have
blown out her brains if she’d uttered a cry.” Sergius cannot accept the story that there is nothing
between the two because if it were true, then Captain Bluntschli would not have come back to the
Petkoff house. He could have sent the coat; he came only to see Raina.
When Sergius makes further accusations, Raina reminds him that she saw him and Louka in each other’s
arms, and she now understands about their relationship. Sergius realizes that his and Raina’s
engagement is over, and he therefore cancels the duel with Bluntschli, who is pleased to get out of it
since he didn’t want to fight in the first place. Raina, however, is furious, and she tells Bluntschli that
Sergius had Louka spy on them and that Sergius rewarded Louka by making love to her. As they continue
to argue, Bluntschli tries to get Sergius to stop because he is losing the argument. Suddenly, Bluntschli
asks where Louka is. Raina maintains that she is listening at the door, and as Sergius stoutly denies such
a thing, Raina goes to the door and drags Louka inside; she was, in fact, eavesdropping. Louka is not
ashamed; she says that her love is at stake and that her feelings for Sergius are stronger than Raina’s
feelings for the “chocolate cream soldier.”
At this point, Major Petkoff enters in short sleeves; his old coat is being mended. When Nicola enters
with it, Raina helps him on with the coat and deftly removes the inscribed portrait from the coat pocket.
Thus, when her father reaches for the photograph to ask Raina the meaning of a photograph of her with
the inscription: “Raina, to her Chocolate Cream Soldier: A Souvenir,” the photo is missing! Major Petkoff
is confused and asks Sergius if he is the “chocolate cream soldier.” The Major responds indignantly that
he is not. Then Bluntschli explains that he is the “chocolate cream soldier” and that Raina saved his life.
Petkoff is further confused when Raina points out that Louka is the true object of Sergius’ affections,
despite the fact that Louka is engaged to Nicola, who denies this and says that he is hoping for Louka’s
good recommendation when he opens his shop.
Suddenly Louka feels as though she is being bartered, and she demands an apology; when Sergius kisses
her hand in apology, she reminds him that his touch now makes her his “affianced wife,” and even
though Sergius had forgotten his earlier statement, he still holds true to his word and claims Louka for
his own. At this moment, Catherine enters and is shocked to find Louka and Sergius together. Louka
explains that Raina is fond only of Bluntschli, and before Raina can answer, Bluntschli explains that such
a young and beautiful girl as Raina could not be in love with a thirty-four-year-old soldier who is an
incurable romantic; the only reason he came back, he says, was not to return the coat but to get just
one more glance at Raina, but he fears that she is no more than seventeen years old. Raina then tells
Bluntschli that he is indeed foolishly romantic if he thinks that she, a twenty-three-year-old woman, is a
seventeen-year-old girl. At this point, Bluntschli asks permission to be a suitor for Raina’s hand. When he
is reminded that Sergius comes from an old family which kept at least twenty horses, Bluntschli begins
to enumerate all of the possessions (including two hundred horses) which he owns; he fails, however, to
mention that his possessions are connected with the hotel business that he has just inherited. His list of
possessions is so impressive that it is agreed that he shall indeed marry Raina, who is delighted with her
“chocolate cream soldier.” As Bluntschli leaves, with the promise of being back in two weeks, Sergius
looks in wonder and comments, “What a man! Is he a man!”
Analysis
After the farcical bit about the discovery of the old coat in the blue closet, which perplexes Major
Petkoff, Shaw then gets down to the resolution of the drama, which involves the revealing of Raina’s,
Sergius’, and Bluntschli’s true natures.
First, in Bluntschli’s interview with Raina, we see him as the practical man who will not let Raina assume
any of her poses; he will laugh at all of the poses that she assumes. Captain Bluntschli, while being
charmed and captivated by Raina, refuses to take her poses seriously; that is, he delights in her
posturing, but he is not deceived by them: “When you strike that noble attitude and speak in that
thrilling voice, I admire you; but I find it impossible to believe a single word you say.” Thus, Bluntschli
forces Raina to reveal her true nature, and she is delighted that someone has seen through her guise
and has allowed her to come down off her pedestal. We were earlier prepared for this revelation when
she told her mother that she would like to shock Sergius; already, we have seen that she finds “higher
love” to be something of a strain on her. Thus, it is ultimately a relief for her to discard all of her artificial
poses and finally become herself.
Likewise, Bluntschli changes. While he will not tolerate posturing, yet, since he is such a plainspoken
man, we are surprised to discover that beneath his exterior, he has a romantic soul — that is, he came
back with the Major’s coat only to have one more glimpse of Raina, with whom he is infatuated.
Therefore, as the practical man is seen to change, so also does Sergius, whom we saw very early in the
second act confess to being tired of playing this game of the ideal of the “higher love.” He is immensely
relieved not to have to be the over-idealized, noble object of Raina’s love; he found trying to live up to
her expectations tiresome. After discovering that there is no nobility or heroics connected with war, he
is delighted to discover that Raina’s heroics are not for him; as a result, he turns to the more basic but
yet attractive Louka.
The resolution of the drama is brought about by the simple technique of having all of the characters
recognize their basic nature and yield to it. Consequently, the ending of this comedy is similar to most
classic comedies — that is, after a mix-up or confusion between the lovers, everyone is paired with the
proper person finally.
Detailed Character Analysis
Raina Petkoff
Raina is one of Shaw’s most delightful heroines from his early plays. In the opening scenes of the play,
she is presented as being a romantically idealistic person in love with the noble ideal of war and love;
yet, she is also aware that she is playing a game, that she is a poseuse who enjoys making dramatic
entrances (her mother is aware that Raina listens at doors in order to know when to make an effective
entrance), and she is very quixotic in her views on love and war.
Whenever Raina strikes a pose, she is fully aware “of the fact that her own youth and beauty are part of
it.” When she accuses Bluntschli of being “incapable of gratitude” and “incapable of any noble
sentiments,” she is also amused, and she is later delighted that he sees through her “noble attitude” and
her pretensions. In fact, her attraction for Bluntschli is partly due to the fact that she can step down off
the pedestal which she must be upon, metaphorically, whenever she is in Sergius’ presence. She shocks
her mother when she says that she would like to shock Sergius’ propriety since he is such a “stuffed
shirt.” Yet, at first, she is filled with undefined ideals. She admires Sergius’ victories, but she is also
genuinely troubled by the reports of the suffering and slaughter that accompany the war. She does
respond immediately to the plight of the Serbian soldier (Captain Bluntschli), even though just a few
moments earlier, she was delighting in Sergius’ victory over the Serbs. And when there is the possibility
of an actual slaughter taking place in her room (the Swiss soldier vowed to kill rather than be killed —
even though we later discover that this was a bluff since he had no bullets), she impetuously decides to
hide him and help him escape. When Bluntschli ridicules Sergius’ quixotic cavalry charge, she pretends
to be offended, but she is secretly glad that her intended is not “perfect.”
Of Raina, Shaw wrote in an essay entitled “A Dramatic Realist to his Critics”:
The heroine [Raina] has been classified by critics as a minx, a liar, and a poseuse; I have nothing to do
with that: the only moral question for me is, does she do good or harm? If you admit that she does
good, that she generously saves a man’s life and wisely extricates herself from a false position with
another man, then you may classify her as you please — brave, generous and affectionate; or artful,
dangerous, faithless — it is all one to me. . . .
Raina, then, is perhaps a combination of all the above qualities. She is romantic, for example, when she
remembers an opera (Verdi’s Ernani) in which a member of the aristocracy shelters an enemy; thus, she
shelters Bluntschli, since it is “chivalrous” to protect him. She does possess exalted ideals, but she is also
pleased to step down from her pedestal and enjoy life directly; finally, in spite of her aristocratic
background, she marries a person with “the soul of a hotel keeper.”
Captain Bluntschli
Captain Bluntschli is a thirty-four-year-old realist who sees through the absurd romanticism of war.
Furthermore, unlike the aristocratic volunteers who are untrained, amateurish idealists, Captain
Bluntschli is a professional soldier, trained in waging a war in a highly efficient, businesslike manner.
These methods allow Sergius to refer to his ability to wage a war as being low-class commercialism,
devoid of any honor and nobility. Bluntschli would agree with this appraisal since he sees nothing
romantic about the violent and senseless slaughter of human beings, even though it is his profession.
Being a professional soldier, he adopts a practical and wise view (his name is a combination of Blunt,
plus the ending, which in Swiss means “sweet” or “endearing” or “lovable”). Given the choice of being
killed or saving his life by climbing up a balcony and into a lady’s bedroom, he chooses unheroically not
to be killed. Practically, he knows that a dead professional soldier is of no value to anyone; thus, he
saves his life by the most expedient method available — he hides in a lady’s bedchamber. Likewise,
given the choice of killing someone or of not going hungry, he chooses to eat rather than to kill; thus, he
carries chocolates rather than cartridges, a highly unromantic but very practical thing to do.
When Bluntschli first hears of Sergius’ cavalry charge and refuses to view Sergius’ actions in any way
except as a foolhardy display of false heroics, he reveals his complete practicality and subjects himself to
Raina’s charge that he is “incapable of appreciating honor and courage.” Yet, his questioning of Sergius’
actions causes Raina to question Sergius’ qualities.
Bluntschli does possess some qualities which cause Raina to exchange the “noble and heroic” Sergius in
favor of him. Raina’s perfect honesty, in fact, allows her to relax and to come down from her pedestal.
Bluntschli’s fondness for chocolates in the midst of war is appealingly incongruous. His docility,
combined with his efficiency, endears him to others, especially the entire Petkoff family, and, finally, he
reveals to the established group that he is an incurable romantic. He explains that he could have sent
the old coat back, but that he wanted to return it personally so that he could have one more glimpse of
the entrancing Raina. Thus, he wins her for his “affianced wife.”
Sergius Saranoff
Sergius is the epitome of what every romantic hero should be: He is dashing, swashbuckling,
devastatingly handsome, idealistic, wealthy, aristocratic, brave, and the acclaimed hero of a recent
crushing victory in a recent cavalry raid which he led. He is possessed of only the loftiest and most noble
ideals concerning war, romance, and chivalry, and he represents the quintessence of what a noble
Bulgarian aristocrat should be. Yet Sergius is more than this. He is an aristocrat, but he is a Byronic type
who has certain ideals, and he is likely to become thoroughly disillusioned when these ideals fail. For
example, Sergius did go to war filled with high ideals, and he did lead a heroic and courageous cavalry
attack; later, however, he discovered that wars are not conducted by bravery and courage; they are
more often waged and won better by efficient and practical planning than they are won by glorious and
chivalric deeds. For Sergius, then, war is only fit for sons of hotel keepers, who have something of the
tradesman about them. For that reason, Sergius has resigned from the army in complete
disillusionment.
After having become cynical about soldiering, Sergius becomes skeptical about his relationship with
Raina. After all, as he tells Louka, it is rather tiresome having to live up to Raina’s “ideal of the higher
love.” It was he, however, who placed Raina on a pedestal so high, in fact, that he was blinded to any
possible fault she might have. When Louka reveals all of Raina’s faults — Raina lies, she pretends, and
she has entertained another man in her bedroom — Sergius then feels free to cast his affections where
they normally lead him — into marriage with the attractive Louka.
Louka
Louka is the earthy and spirited maidservant of the Petkoffs. She is rebellious, proud, and insolent to
Raina whom she sees through. She is Raina’s rival for Sergius. Louka smokes cigarettes and flirts with
Sergius under the noses of the family, though Nicola warns her she will be fired. She claims she will
never have the soul of a servant. She is witty and intelligent, knowing how to manage Sergius so that he
proposes to her. Louka is the main voice for the equality of the classes in the play, claiming that she has
a right to marry whomever she loves. She predicts Raina will marry Bluntschi and convinces Sergius he
should defy public opinion to marry her.
Nicola
Nicola is the manservant of the Petkoffs. He is a middle-aged man, controlled and calm, and calculating.
He puts up with the abuse of his superiors and knows how to play the servant who takes the blame for
everything, while pocketing the tips from his masters for keeping their secrets. Louka accuses him of
having the soul of a servant. He accepts class distinctions, though his plan is to earn enough money to
open a shop in Sofia. He is engaged to Louka in the beginning, but when she refuses him and goes after
Sergius, he helps her with advice and promotes he to the family. Bluntschli calls him the ablest man in
Bulgaria and thinks of giving him a Swiss hotel to manage.
Major Paul Petkoff
Major Petkoff is a genial man of fifty, in the Bulgarian cavalry. He seems an able man of sense,
comfortable with his life as a Bulgarian aristocrat. His daughter and wife love him but tend to run over
him when they want their own way. He is lenient, though strict in his ideas of what is right. He is
shocked by his daughter’s behavior of running after another man when she is engaged. He makes
friends in spite of himself with Bluntschli, who fought for the enemy, because he is capable, seeking his
help to send the troops home. Unlike his wife, Petkoff does not want to modernize and change with the
times.
Literary Analysis
Theme Analysis
The Reality of War
The play opens with a romantic view of war held by the Bulgarians, especially the young Raina and
Sergius. They will learn from experience and their lessons from Bluntschli that war is not glorious.
Raina and Sergius have learned their ideas of war from books. They speak of knights and ladies and the
combat of honor between equals. Sergius says that war is like a “tournament” (Act II, p. 31). His idea of
leading the victorious cavalry charge was a mistake from the point of view of modern warfare, for
horses cannot override cannon and guns. Sergius resigns from the regiment, disillusioned that the other
soldiers do not take him seriously. He refuses to play the modern game of war; it is for a “tradesman,”
he complains (Act II, p. 29).
Catherine Petkoff is even more locked into an old-fashioned conception of war and patriotism. She is
upset when peace is declared and asks her husband if he couldn’t have “annexed Serbia and made
Prince Alexander Emperor of the Balkans” (Act II, p. 24). Major Petkoff explains they would have had to
subdue Austria first (the allies of the Serbs). Catherine has no idea what war is or what it costs. Her ideas
are as flimsy as Raina’s. The two women are excited as they hear about the victory at Slivnitza and that
Sergius is a hero. Catherine wants to worship Sergius and tries to persuade her husband about his
promotion. Major Petkoff remarks that Sergius will not be promoted because everyone knows he is rash
and incompetent.
Bluntschli tries to shock Raina into reality by reminding her that if the Bulgarians find him in her room,
they will butcher him before her eyes. There will be blood everywhere. He appeals to the mother in her
by asking for a place to sleep and food to eat. He admits he is frightened for he has had no sleep in three
days. At this point, she heroically makes an effort to save him.
The Bulgarians are shown as naïve about war. Major Petkoff admits that neither the Bulgarians nor
Serbs knew anything about war until their officers (the Austrians for the Serbs, and the Russians for the
Bulgarians) taught them. Petkoff says, “there’d have been no war without them” (Act II, p. 29). Russia
and Austria were considered Great Powers, more advanced and powerful countries that exerted a
political influence on lesser powers. They jumped into the border dispute between Serbia and Bulgaria
because they were worried about the balance of power. The Serbs and Bulgarians had once been
friends. Neither were experienced with modern warfare.
As a professional soldier, the Swiss mercenary, Bluntschli, is the last word to his Bulgarian friends on the
sober reality of war. He describes the soldier’s point of view of how to stay alive by carrying more food
than ammunition, and by avoiding the front lines. He beats Major Petkoff at horsetrading. Bluntschli is
scorned at first because of his middle-class notions of war, but his practical knowledge of how to move
troops and keep them supplied is soon appreciated by Sergius and Petkoff. Bluntschli as a Swiss
Republican has modern democratic ideas that contrast sharply to the older feudal ideas of aristocracy
held by the Bulgarians. They are used to a society of privilege and class stratification. They are
impressed, however, by Bluntschli’s modern power, knowledge and wealth. Unlike them, he holds no
lingering feuds after the war, but is more interested in managing his hotels. Business can be a force of
economic stability across national boundaries, more powerful than war. He is ready to sign on Nicola, a
former enemy, as one of his managers.
The Ideal vs. The Real
Raina lives in a make-believe world, and she is aware of it, though she believes it is a more noble world
than the one other people live in: “the world is really a glorious world for women who can see its glory
and men who can act its romance” (Act I, p. 4). She and Sergius declare one another knight and lady, an
example of the “higher love” (Act II, p. 31). Raina is always found posing, dreaming, or making a
dramatic entrance. Her mother and father note her uncanny ability to come into a room at the right
moment: “Yes, she listens for it,” Catherine says (Act II, p. 28). Life for Raina is what she picks up at the
opera season in Bucharest. Extending sanctuary to an enemy was in the opera she saw, and so she saves
Bluntschli’s life.
Bluntschli believes Raina is underage because of her romantic pretense. He is surprised to learn she is
twenty-three. He admits he admires her thrilling voice, but he cannot believe a single word she says, he
declares to her. He points out in his direct way in Act III that her life is a lie. Raina is relieved to be
accepted as she is, a real person with faults. She is surprised to find she has more affection for her
“chocolate cream soldier” who admits to hunger, cold, fear, and cowardice than for Sergius, who is full
of noble bombast. She tells her mother to marry Sergius, because he is more to her taste.
Both Raina and Sergius find it fatiguing to keep up their higher love. Each of them is a secret realist at
heart. Shaw makes the case for love being simple and real. Louka and Bluntschli are the antidote both
romantic characters need. Bluntschli’s ability to do away with romantic nonsense with common sense is
good comedy and underscores Shaw’s animosity towards Victorian melodrama, which gave audiences a
distorted view of life.
Class Prejudice
The tension of class rivalry is present throughout the play. Shaw treats it playfully, though it is a serious
topic for him as a socialist dedicated to doing away with class injustice.
The Bulgarian society is pictured as a primitive holdover of the feudal class structure that Europe was
slowly doing away with. England, for instance, was dealing at the turn of the century when Shaw was
writing, with melting class distinctions. The working classes had gained the vote and the right to
education. Improvement of slums, improvement of factory conditions, and greater representation of the
lower classes in government signaled the democratic reform going on in advanced countries. In addition,
it was a time of the rising power of the middle class, with the entrepreneurial spirit reigning as the force
of the future. Bluntschli represents the middle-class business spirit of Europe; the Petkoffs are the
aristocratic great landowners of the past; Nicola and Louka represent the old peasantry, bound to the
land and landowners.
In the Bulgaria Shaw portrays, the higher classes hold the lower classes in subjugation through power,
fear, and custom. Nicola warns Louka that the Petkoffs could destroy her if she defies them: “you don’t
know the power such high people have over the like of you and me when we try to rise out of our
poverty against them” (Act II, p. 22). Nicola is cunning, but he accepts being the scapegoat of the family
because they pay him off. He has dreams of rising out of his position as Louka does. He will buy a shop in
Sofia to be independent, but even then “I shall always be dependent on the good will of the family” (Act
II, p. 22). She accuses him of “selling his manhood for 30 levas” (Act III, p. 55) and swears that “You’ll
never put the soul of a servant into me” (Act II, p. 23).
Louka’s ambition is higher than Nicola’s: she wants to marry into the aristocracy. She plays on Sergius’s
sense of rebellious individualism to get him to defy social convention. She shows him that underneath
his noble rhetoric, they are both human and made of the same “clay” (Act II, p. 35). Nicola gives Louka
lessons on how to change classes through her thinking and actions. He teaches her to stop wearing false
hair and make-up, to trim her nails and keep her hands clean. He tells her a lady must act as if she will
get her own way. He lies to Sergius and says that Louka has been reading in the library, trying to get
education above her station.
Sergius himself points out that class discrimination spills over into military life. Both the upper and lower
classes fight the enemy with equal courage. The poor soldiers, however, fear their own upper class
officers who can keep them in their place: “they put up with insults and blows” (Act III, p. 58).
The Petkoffs are initially contemptuous of Bluntschli’s middle-class or bourgeois background. He is no
gentleman. Sergius calls him a “commercial traveler in uniform” (Act II, p. 30). Raina accuses him of
having a “low shopkeeping mind” (Act III, p. 53). They change their minds when he turns out to be a
problem solver (getting the troops home), and rich (inherits hotels). Petkoff says he must be the
Emperor of Switzerland, but Bluntschli points out that “my rank is the highest known in Switzerland: I
am a free citizen” (Act III, p. 72). If Louka is the rebellion of the lower classes demanding equal
treatment, Bluntschli is the force of democracy. He congratulates Louka on her engagement with “the
best wishes of a good Republican” (Act III, p. 69).
Metaphor Analysis
Knight in a Tournament
Raina and Sergius make a romance out of their love, using phrases and ideas they have read in books.
Sergius claims he has gone through the war “like a knight in a tournament with his lady looking down at
him” (Act II, p. 31). The lovers attempt to act out what Raina calls a “higher love” (Act II, p. 31), full of
noble ideals. Sergius calls Raina “My lady and my saint” (Act II, p. 31). Both Sergius and Raina pose when
they enter a room, as in a melodrama. Raina speaks in a “thrilling voice” (Act III, p. 51), and Sergius plays
the disillusioned Byronic misfit. Bluntschli humorously accuses Sergius of playing soldier “like an operatic
tenor” (Act I, p. 13), “charging like Don Quixote at the windmills” (Act I, p. 14). Even Major Petkoff does
not want his future son-in-law to be made a general for fear he will throw away “whole brigades instead
of regiments,” (Act II, p. 26), referring to Sergius’s dramatic flare but incompetence at warfare. After all,
the soldiers on both sides laugh as he mistakenly makes a charge at the enemy that should have killed
everyone. Instead, he comes out as a hero who wins the war.
Dreaming
Raina is often referred to by herself and her family as a dreamer. When the play opens, she is dreamily
looking out at the romantic night on her balcony. She tells her mother about “our heroic ideals”
referring to the cavalry charge that fulfills the lovers’ mutual dream of a noble life (Act I, p. 3). A
dreamer is one who can see the poetry of life and who can act the poetry of life, she tells her mother.
She refers to her sitting at home as the mere “dreaming” of life (Act II, p. 31). When her father speaks to
her, she is in a trance or reverie and does not answer. He says, “She’s dreaming, as usual” (Act III, p. 48).
Bluntschli, on the other hand, disturbs Raina’s romantic dreaming, bringing her down to earth. He is
practical and knows how to get things done. He is blunt, like his name, and does not pretend. He points
out to Raina that she lies and that her life is a lie, not based on the truth. This implies her dreams are
illusions rather than ideals to live up to. The fact that she is attracted to him, and that she likes it when
he sees through her act of being a heroine in a novel, means she is ready to give up her childish dreams.
Sergius, too, is “fatigued” by the higher love (Act II, p. 32) and responds to Louka’s earthy love-making.
The message of the play is that romantic dreams are both silly and dangerous to life.
Peas Against the Window Pane
Bluntschli attempts to correct Raina’s romantic ideas of war by explaining to her what a cavalry charge is
really like. He compares it to throwing a handful of peas against a window pane. First one pea hits the
pane, then two or three more, then the rest in a lump. The first one to the front is not brave; his horse is
running away from him. That is usually a young soldier. The seasoned soldiers come behind the others in
a lump. They hide behind the ones who are eager to get glory and get there first. Their injuries are thus
not from being shot, but from the horses jamming together.
Bluntschli goes on to tell Raina other details about how warfare is actually conducted, not according to
ideals, but necessity. The old soldiers, for instance, carry extra food instead of ammunition. He himself
carries chocolate. The soldiers seem to have no illusion about being cannon fodder, and this sense is
implicit in the comparison to a charge as “flinging a handful of peas” (Act I, p.13). There is therefore
nothing noble in a cavalry charge; it is about the probabilities of survival according to when a soldier
arrives at the front line. When Raina accuses Bluntschli of cowardice, saying some soldiers are not afraid
to die, he reminds her that “It is our duty to live as long as we can” (Act I, p. 7), belying the idea that it is
patriotic to die for one’s country. Soldiers must continue to live so that they again and again be like peas
being flung against more window panes.
The Chocolate-Cream Soldier
Raina refers to Bluntschli as her “chocolate-cream soldier” because he carries chocolates instead of
ammunition. The metaphor has several implications. It is an anti-romantic image, suggesting either a
cowardly effeminate soldier, or at best, a practical soldier, who thinks of food and survival more than
the art of warfare. Shaw humorously criticizes the value of warfare through this unusual metaphor. The
soldiers are not thinking noble thoughts of patriotism as they risk their lives; they are just blundering
through to the next bed or meal.
Chocolate also has sexual overtones. Raina significantly hides and feeds Bluntschli chocolates in her
bedroom and lets him sleep in her bed, symbolizing her attraction to him. She covers up her act and the
nickname to her family by pretending that she means something innocent: a chocolate-cream soldier on
a pastry. The title and image of the chocolate soldier are anti-heroic. Bluntschli is not a fierce fighter at
all. He is homey, tasty, domestic, and somewhat passive. He is as manageable by Raina as a chocolate
figure on a dessert cake. She prefers a chocolate-cream soldier whom she can consume rather than the
pretentious Sergius she would have to admire and look up to.
SETTING
Prince Alexander I, the Regent of Bulgaria, led the Bulgarian army against the Serbs who had declared
war in November 1885. The Bulgarian army was helped by the Russians whereas the Serbs were led by
Austrians. The Swiss supplied a large number of mercenaries and Captain Bluntschli is one such soldier
fighting on the Serbian side. Such mercenaries had no feelings. At a crucial point Russia called back her
officers and Bulgaria was left to fend for herself. In spite of such mishaps the Bulgarians were victorious
in the Battle of Slivnitza in November 1885.
The title of the play “Arms and the Man” comes from the opening lines of “The Aeneid”, Virgil’s epicpoem describing the adventures of Aeneas, the Trojan Prince. Shaw calls it an “Anti- Romantic Comedy”.
The term romantic, according to Shaw, meant untruth. Romance refers to a kind of fiction, which did not
concern itself with real life; it gave greater importance to idealization. The same trend was followed by
drama. Scribe and Sardon in Paris wrote well -made plays which had well- constructed plots with several
well-known devices. Audiences were used to such drama, therefore, when Ibsen’s plays “The Doll’s
House” and “Ghosts” were performed, people were shocked. Shaw was inspired by Ibsen who tackled
real issues and made people think.
Like Ibsen, he tackled real issues that Englishmen were made to think about.
CONFLICT
The conflict in “Arms and the Man” is between opposing beliefs and ideas.
Protagonist
Raina is the protagonist. She has romantic notions about war and love.
Antagonist
In a way, Bluntschli could be considered the antagonist since he presents a realistic picture of war. Louka
is the other antagonist who makes Raina and Sergius aware of the practical side of love.
Climax
Bluntschli’s arrival with the coat is the climax. At that point the play gets most complicated.
Outcome
The outcome is a happy one. Raina marries Bluntschli and Louka secures Sergius. Overall, the main
characters come down to the practical realities of life.
Themes
The play has two major Themes : war and marriage. Romantic illusion about war lead to disasters, in the
same way romantic notions of love and marriage lead to unhappy marriages.
A minor theme is the relationship between the upper and lower classes as represented by the Petkoffs
and their servants Nicola and Louka. Shaw upheld social equality.
MOOD
Pleasant. The play was published together with the others in “Plays Pleasant”.
PLOT
In a war between Bulgaria and Serbia, the Serbian soldiers are fleeing. A Serbian soldier surprises Raina,
the heroine, by entering her bedroom for shelter. The Serbian officer is a Swiss mercenary soldier
fighting on the Serbian side, his name is Captain Bluntschli. Raina Petkoff had been dreaming of her
fiancé Sergius; about how valiantly he had led the Bulgarians to victory. Bluntschli is a soldier who
prefers a supply of chocolates to bullets when he goes to the front. He gives an account to Raina about
the Bulgarian victory, which according to him, was a fluke as someone had forgotten to supply the
Serbian army with ammunition. Her romantic notion about soldiers receives a shock when he tells her
he is afraid and unwilling to die. However, when the pursuers enter the house, she hides Bluntschli
successfully. Only Louka, the maidservant notices the pistol and knows that the fugitive is hiding in the
room.
Four months later, after the war is over, Major Petkoff and Sergius get a warm welcome from Mrs.
Petkoff and Raina. The two men talk about a young Swiss officer who had impressed them with his
practical approach to the exchange of soldiers. Louka and Nicola discuss Raina’s encounter with the
Swiss soldier and Nicola advises her not to talk about it. Sergius is attracted to Louka and when alone,
flirts with her. The men have also heard stories about the Swiss soldier’s escape and how a young girl
had given him shelter. They do not know that the incident had taken place in Major Petkoff’s own
house. While the two men retire to the library, Captain Bluntschli arrives to return the coat Major
Petkoff and Raina had lent him. The two women want him to go away and pretend not to know him
when Major Petkoff and Sergius greet him warmly. The men persuade him to stay back for lunch.
After lunch, Bluntschli helps Major Petkoff and Sergius to make arrangements for the transport of
troops. Major Petkoff asks for his coat and Raina is apprehensive that he may discover the photograph,
which she had put in the pocket for her “Chocolate Cream Soldier.” Sergius learns the true identity of
the “Chocolate Cream Soldier” and challenges Bluntschli to a duel which Raina interrupts and expresses
her real feelings for Bluntschli. Louka succeeds in securing Sergius for herself and Major Petkoff and his
wife give their consent to Bluntschli to marry Raina.
Biography of
George Bernard Shaw
It is with good reason that Archibald Henderson, official biographer of his subject, entitled his work
George Bernard Shaw: Man of the Century. Well before his death at the age of ninety-four, this famous
dramatist and critic had become an institution. Among the literate, no set of initials were more widely
known than G.B.S. Born on July 26, 1856, in Dublin, Ireland, Shaw survived until November 2, 1950. His
ninetieth birthday in 1946 was the occasion for an international celebration, the grand old man being
presented with a festschrift entitled GBS 90 to which many distinguished writers contributed. A London
publishing firm bought space in the Times to voice its greetings:
GBS
Hail to thee, blithe spirit!
Shaw was the third child and only son in a family which he once described as “shabby but genteel.” His
father, George Carr Shaw, was employed as a civil servant and later became a not too successful
merchant. Shaw remembered especially his father’s “alcoholic antics”; the old man was a remorseful yet
unregenerate drinker. It was from his father that Shaw inherited his superb comic gift. Lucinda Gurley
Shaw, the mother, was a gifted singer and music teacher; she led her son to develop a passion for music,
particularly operatic music. At an early age he had memorized, among others, the works of Mozart,
whose fine workmanship he never ceased to admire. Somewhat later, he taught himself to play the
piano — in the Shavian manner.
One of the maxims in The Revolutionist’s Handbook, appended to Man and Superman, reads: “He who
can does. He who can’t teaches.” Shaw, who was to insist that all art should be didactic, viewed himself
as a kind of teacher, yet he himself had little respect for schoolmasters and formal education. First, his
uncle, the Reverend George Carroll, tutored him. Then, at the age of ten, he became a pupil at Wesleyan
Connexional School in Dublin and later attended two other schools for short periods of time. He hated
them all and declared that he had learned absolutely nothing. But Shaw possessed certain qualities
which are not always developed in the classroom — for example, an inquisitive mind and a boundless
capacity for independent study.
Once asked about his early education, he replied: “I can remember no time at which a page of print was
not intelligible to me and can only suppose I was born literate.” He went on to add that by the age of ten
he had saturated himself in the works of Shakespeare and also in the Bible.
A depleted family exchequer led Shaw to accept employment as a clerk in a Land Agency when he was
sixteen. He was unhappy and, determined to become a professional writer, he resigned after five years
of service and joined his mother, who was then teaching music in London. The year was 1876. During
the next three years he allowed his mother to support him, and he concentrated largely on trying to
support himself as an author. No less than five novels came from his pen between the years 1879 and
1883, but it was soon evident that Shaw’s genius would never be revealed as a novelist.
In 1879, Shaw was induced to accept employment in a firm promoting the new Edison telephone, his
duties being those of a right-of-way agent. He detested the task of interviewing residents in the East End
of London and endeavoring to get their permission for the installation of telephone poles and
equipment. A few months of such work was enough for him. In his own words, this was the last time he
“sinned against his nature” by seeking to earn an honest living.
The year 1879 had greater significance for Shaw. He joined the Zetetical Society, a debating club, the
members of which held lengthy discussions on such subjects as economics, science, and religion. Soon
he found himself in demand as a speaker and a regular participant at public meetings. At one such
meeting held in September, 1882, he listened spellbound to Henry George, an apostle of Land
Nationalization and the Single Tax. Shaw credits the American lecturer and author with having roused
his interest in economics and social theory; previously, he had concerned himself chiefly with the
conflict between science and religion. When Shaw was told that no one could do justice to George’s
theories without being familiar with the theories of Karl Marx, Shaw promptly read a French translation
of Das Kapital, no English translation being then available. He was immediately converted to socialism.
The year 1884 is also a notable one in the life of Bernard Shaw (as he preferred to be called). After
reading a tract entitled Why Are the Many Poor? and learning that it was published by the Fabian
Society, he appeared at the society’s next meeting. The intellectual temper of this group, which included
such distinguished men as Havelock Ellis, immediately attracted him. He was accepted as a member on
September 5 and was elected to the Executive Committee in January. Among the debaters at the
Zetetical Society was Sidney Webb, a man whom Shaw recognized as his “natural complement.” He
easily persuaded Webb to become a Fabian. The two, along with the gifted Mrs. Webb, became the
pillars of the society which preached the gospel of constitutional and evolutionary socialism. Shaw’s
views, voiced in public parks and meeting halls, are expounded at length in The Intelligent Woman’s
Guide to Socialism and Capitalism (1928); many of his ideas also find a place in his dramas.
In the next stage of his career, Shaw emerged as a literary, music, and art critic. Largely because of the
influence of William Archer, the distinguished dramatic critic now best remembered as the editor and
translator of Ibsen, Shaw became a member of the reviewing staff of the Pall Mall Gazette in 1885.
Earlier, he had ghostwritten some music reviews for G. L. Lee, with whom his mother had long been
associated as a singer and as a music teacher. But this new assignment provided him with his first real
experience as a critic. Not long thereafter, and again through the assistance of William Archer, Shaw
added to these duties those of an art critic on the widely influential World. Archer insisted that Shaw
knew very little about art but realized that Shaw thought that he did, which was what mattered. As for
Shaw, he blandly explained that the way to learn about art was to look at pictures; he had begun doing
so years earlier in the Dublin National Gallery.
Shaw’s close association with William Archer was paramount in his championing the dramas of Henrik
Ibsen as a new, highly original dramatist whose works represented a complete break with the popular
theater of the day. “When Ibsen came from Norway,” Shaw was to write, “with his characters who
thought and discussed as well as acted, the theatrical heaven rolled up like a scroll.” Whereas the
general public, nurtured on “well-made” romantic and melodramatic plays, denounced Ibsen as a
“muck-ferreting dog,” Shaw recognized that Ibsen was a great ethical philosopher and a social critic, a
role which recommended itself to Shaw himself. On July 18, 1890, Shaw read a paper on Ibsen at a
meeting of the Fabian Society. Amplified, this became The Quintessence of Ibsen (1891). Sometimes
called The Quintessence of Shaw, it sets forth the author’s profoundest views on the function of the
dramatist, who, Shaw believed, should concern himself foremost with how his characters react to
various social forces and who should concern himself further with a new morality based upon an
examination and challenge of conventional mores.
In view of what Shaw had written about Ibsen (and about himself) and because of Shaw’s dedicated
activities as a socialist exhorter, The Widowers’ Rouses, his first play, may be called characteristic.
Structurally, it represents no departure from the tradition of the well-made play; that is, the action is
plotted so that the key situation is exposed in the second act, and the third act is devoted to its
resolution. But thematically, the play was revolutionary in England. It dealt with the evils of slumlandlordism, a subject hardly calculated to regale the typical Victorian audience. Produced at J. T. Grein’s
Independent Theatre in London, it became a sensation because of its “daring” theme, but it was never a
theatrical success. Shaw, however, was not at all discouraged. The furor delighted him. No one knew
better than he the value of attracting attention. He was already at work on The Philanderer, an amusing
but rather slight comedy of manners.
In 1894, Shaw’s Arms and the Man enjoyed a good run at the Avenue Theatre from April 21 to July 7,
and it has been revived from time to time to this very day. At last, the real Shaw had emerged — the
dramatist who united irrepressible gaiety and complete seriousness of purpose. The play has been
described as “a satire on the prevailing bravura style,” and it sets forth the “view of romance as the
great heresy to be swept from art and life.”
In the same year, Shaw wrote Mrs. Warren’s Profession, which became a cause celebre. Shaw himself
grouped it with his so-called “Unpleasant Plays.” Dealing with the economic causes of prostitution and
the conflict between the prostitute mother and her daughter, it created a tumult which was kept alive
for several years on both sides of the Atlantic. It may well be argued that in this play Shaw was far more
the polemist than the artist, but the play still has its place among the provocative dramas of ideas.
The indefatigable Shaw was already at work on his first unquestionably superior play, Candida. First
produced in 1895, it has been popular ever since and has found its place in anthologies.
Notable for effective character portrayal and the adroit use of inversions, it tells how Candida and the
Reverend Morrell, widely in public demand as an advanced thinker, reached an honest and sound basis
for a lasting marriage.
While working with the Fabians, Shaw met the personable Charlotte Payne-Townshend, an Irish heiress
deeply concerned with the many problems of social justice. He was immediately attracted to her. After
she had helped him through a long illness, the two were married in 1898, and she became his modest
but capable critic and assistant throughout the years of their marriage.
During this period there was no surcease of playwriting on Shaw’s part. He completed You Never Can
Tell, The Man of Destiny, and The Devil’s Disciple. This last play, an inverted Victorian-type melodrama
first acted in the United States, was an immediate success, financially and otherwise. By the turn of the
century, Shaw had written Caesar and Cleopatra and The Admirable Bashville. He was now the
acknowledged major force in the new drama of the twentieth century.
The year 1903 is especially memorable for the completion and publication of Man and Superman. It was
first acted (without the Don Juan in Hell intermezzo which constitutes Act III) in 1905. Then, some
twenty-three other plays were added to the Shavian canon as the century advanced toward the halfway
mark. Best known among these are Major Barbara (1905), Androcles and the Lion (1912), Pygmalion
(1912), Heartbreak House (1916), Back to Methuselah (1921), and Saint Joan (1923). During the years
1930-32, the Ayot St. Lawrence Edition of his collected plays was published. Shaw’s literary preeminence had found worldwide recognition. He refused, however, to accept either a knighthood or the
Order of Merit offered by the Crown, but in 1926 he did accept the Nobel Prize for Literature. It was
quite typical of him to state that the award was given to him by a grateful public because he had not
published anything during that year.
Shaw persistently rejected offers from filmmakers. According to one story, when importuned by Samuel
Goldwyn, the well-known Hollywood producer, he replied: ‘The difficulty, Mr. Goldwyn, is that you are
an artist and I am a business man.” Later, however, the ardor and ability of Gabriel Pascal impressed
him, and he agreed to prepare the scenario of Pygmalion for production. The film, released in 1938, was
a notable success. Major Barbara and Androcles and the Lion followed, and the Irish-born dramatist had
now won a much larger audience. My Fair Lady, a musical adapted from Pygmalion, opened in New
Haven, Connecticut, on February 4, 1956, starring Rex Harrison and Julie Andrews, and it was and
remains a spectacular success. A film version won an Academy Award in 1964 as Best Picture.
Discussing Macbeth, Shaw once wrote: “I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I
work, the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no ‘brief candle’ for me. It is a sort of
splendid torch, which I have got hold of for the moment; and I want to make it burn as brightly as
possible before handing it on to future generations.” Life indeed was a bright torch which burned long
for Bernard Shaw. Almost to the very end, when he was bedridden with a broken hip, he lived up to his
credo. He was ninety-two years old in 1949, when Buoyant Billions was produced at the Malvern
Festival. In the same year his highly readable Sixteen Self Sketches was published. He was planning the
writing of still another play when he died on November 2, 1950.
Essential Explanations
1. “It proves that all our ideas were real after all”
(Act I, p. 3)
Raina says this to her mother on hearing that her fiancé, Sergius, led a cavalry charge that won the
battle at Slivitzna. She means that his victory confirms their romantic ideals that come from the stories
they had read in books, about how a noble love can inspire great deeds.
2. “It is our duty to live as long as we can.”
(Act I, p. 7)
The enemy fugitive Bluntschli is in Raina’s bedroom. She is contemptuous of him because he wants to
live and seems afraid to die, unlike her heroic Sergius. Bluntschli explains from his practical point of
view, that contrary to what she may have heard, it is a soldier’s duty to stay alive.
3. “Soldiering, my dear madam, is the coward’s art of attacking mercilessly when you are strong, and
keeping out of harm’s way when you are weak.”
(Act II, p. 29)
Sergius has resigned from the military even though he won the battle by accident. He is disillusioned
that it is not, after all, like chivalry. He thinks war should be a fair fight between equals, like the knights
of old, instead of the nasty modern business of opportunism.
4. “I think we two have found the higher love.”
(Act II, p. 31)
Raina says this to Sergius in the garden after he returns from war. They speak adoringly to one another,
as knight and lady, but in spite of their rhetoric, both are secretly attracted to other more earthy mates.
5.
“. . . now I’ve found out that whatever clay I’m made of, you’re made of the same.”
(Act II, p. 35)
Louka says this to Sergius who flirts with her as soon as Raina is out of sight. Louka deflates his noble
ideals by pointing out his hypocrisy. The upper classes are no better behaved than the lower classes.
6. “When you strike that noble attitude and speak in that thrilling voice, I admire you; but I find it
impossible to believe a single word you say.”
(Act III, p. 51)
Bluntschli sees through Raina’s constantly acting the part of a heroine from a novel. When he points out
her pretensions, she is relieved to be honest around him.
7. “When you set up your shop you will only be everybody’s servant instead of somebody’s servant.”
(Act III, p. 55)
Louka scolds Nicola for having the soul of a servant. He declares he is saving his money to open a shop,
but she sees that as merely a different sort of servitude.
8. “Act as if you expected to have your own way, not as if you expected to be ordered about.”
(Act III, p. 56)
Accepting that he has lost Louka as a wife, Nicola gives her tips on how to be a lady and catch Sergius.
She must act the part of a lady.
9. “I will not be a coward and a trifler. If I choose to love you, I dare marry you, in spite of all Bulgaria.”
(Act III, p. 59)
Sergius is being teased and prodded by Louka that he is not brave enough to marry outside of his class.
This elicits Sergius’s stubborn pride in his own independence.
10. “The world is not such an innocent place as we used to think, Petkoff.”
(Act III, p. 67)
Sergius says this line to a bewildered Major Petkoff, as the Major discovers that his daughter is after
another man (Bluntschli) than her fiancé, Sergius. This remark is in keeping with Sergius’s pose of
romantic disillusionment about love and war.
Important Questions
with Answers
1. What is Byronism?
Byronism refers to a certain pose or attitude suggested by the poetry and life of George Gordon, Lord
Byron (1788-1824), an English Romantic poet. Both Raina and Sergius have read Byron, but Sergius
especially tries to imitate the Byronic hero. Byron’s famous works include Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage
(1818), “The Prisoner of Chillon” (1816), Manfred (1817), Cain (1821), and Don Juan (1819-1824).
Byron was socially exiled from England for his controversial sexual affairs, debts, and scandalous
lifestyle. He got his revenge by becoming a celebrity in spite of English censure by traveling through
Europe and Albania, Italy and Greece, putting his travels into poetry that became fascinating for its
colorful details of exotic places and people. He described Turkish harems; he studied Armenian culture
and language. He had a portrait painted of himself wearing Albanian dress, including a turban. The
world-weary disillusioned idealist who must wander without a home became a trademark pose for his
various characters. The Byronic hero is a great passionate individualist who dares to turn his back on
society, religion, and anything beyond his own will. Sergius’s comment is typically Byronic: “Oh, give me
the man who will defy to the death any power on earth or in heaven that sets itself up against his own
will and conscience: he alone is the brave man” (Act III, p. 58). Sergius is disillusioned because he won
the war but is rejected for his reckless flamboyance. By setting himself up to be an outcast Byronic hero,
Sergius has to take Louka’s dare to defy custom and marry a servingmaid.
Byron, like his characters, was irresistible to women, handsome, but with the taint of badness in his
otherwise heroic behavior. He defended causes and died a hero in the Greek War of Independence, but
he was largely depressed and self-destructive. This type of character became popular in Romantic and
Victorian literature; for instance, as Rochester in Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre and Heathcliff in Emily
Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. Shaw, of course, would see such a life as a selfish, adolescent waste of
time. He satirizes Byronism, especially through Sergius.
2. How can Bluntschli be called an Anti-Hero?
If Sergius is the hero of Slivnitza, Bluntschli is the anti-hero. The anti-hero is the antithesis of the
traditional brave hero. An anti-hero is commonplace, unlucky, clumsy, unattractive, cowardly, funny, or
blunt. If things work out for him, it is often an accident, like Bluntschli’s sudden wealth. The anti-hero is
often a relief for modern readers because he is more real, more like they are, with faults and mistakes.
Examples are Jim Dixon in Kingsley Amis’s Lucky Jim, Herzog in Saul Bellow’s Herzog, or Yossarian in
Joseph Heller’s Catch-22.
In his Preface to Arms and the Man, Shaw reveals he is consciously creating such a character in
Bluntschli, who outraged early critics because he denies patriotism and bravery. Shaw admits Bluntschli
is “not a conventional stage soldier” (p. xxiv). He is truthful about his suffering hunger and lack of sleep.
He is nervous, desperate, and asks for chocolate creams, a food associated with frivolous females. Early
audiences thought Shaw cynical instead of realistic, but in his Preface he claims his view of warfare is
justified by military experts and military history. Soldiers viewing the play during World War I laughed in
recognition of the truthful conditions Shaw portrays about war.
Critics argued that Shaw was being perverse by turning everything upside down. Bluntschli is the exact
opposite of literary heroes. When he invades Raina’s bedroom, he does not act romantic or try to make
love to her. He eats chocolates and then falls asleep. He is impartial and calm, not passionate. He acts
like a businessman, fighting not for principle, but for whichever side pays the most. He is friendly to
people (the Petkoffs) who are supposedly his foes. Unmarried at thirty-five and believing he is
unattractive to women, he is surprised by Raina’s interest in him. Raina has to pursue him, rather than
the other way around. When Sergius wants to get in a fight over Raina, Bluntschli is indifferent. He will
go through the motions but does not want to kill. Bluntschli is practical and does not live by high ideals.
He doesn’t mind if Raina lies; he sees through her. Shaw speaks of the “romantic morality of the critics
and the natural morality of the plays” (p. xxiv). Shaw is committed to the humor of realism.
3. How does Shaw’s socialism influence his drama?
George Bernard Shaw and his wife, Charlotte Payne-Townshend, were founding members of the Fabian
Society, a British socialist movement of the nineteenth century (still existing) that believed in social
democracy through gradual change rather than revolution. It advocated principles of the welfare state
to bring about social justice and equal opportunity, with capitalism controlled through regulation. It
attracted such intellectuals as the Shaws, Leonard and Virginia Woolf, H. G. Wells, and Sidney and
Beatrice Webb. The popularization of their progressive ideas contributed to the modern Labour Party in
Britain. Members like Shaw wrote pamphlets and articles that spoke of social problems and proposed
solutions such as socialized health care, minimum wage, and the abolition of hereditary peerages.
Shaw sees his drama as another forum for social issues. He used his plays and the lengthy prefaces to
raise awareness and foster discussion. He moves the audience through humor and emotional and
intellectual appeal. For instance, Arms and the Man is not the usual romantic comedy of the time about
the upper classes. All the social classes are included. A little like the British TV series, “Upstairs,
Downstairs,” the audience first sees the Petkoffs and their story, and then the scene switches to the
servants and their lives—how they feel exploited, how they plan for their future. Finally, what is even
more revolutionary, we see the servants breaking out of their class roles. Louka marries an aristocrat,
and Nicola becomes a businessman.
Shaw brings out certain interesting facts about class distinction; for instance, all the men in the
Bulgarian army put their lives on the line for their country, and yet, the poor man is still bullied by his
own upper-class officers. Shaw shows there is no essential distinction between people of different
classes. Sergius pretends that he and Raina have nobler principles than the servants, but Louka exposes
the fact that the upper classes lie and cheat as much as the servants do. They are all human beings; they
all want love and prosperity and respect. Nicola points out that the only thing Louka has to do to be a
lady is to take on the role of expecting others to do her bidding. It is all an act. Shaw emphasizes in his
Preface to this play, “I can no longer be satisfied with fictitious morals and fictitious good conduct,
shedding fictitious glory on robbery, starvation, disease, crime, drink, war, cruelty, cupidity, and all the
other commonplaces of civilization” (p. xxv). The illusion of romance that society has set up to favor the
few must be replaced with justice.
4. What is “Ibsenism” and the New Drama that Shaw championed?
At the time Shaw was writing his first plays, Victorian melodrama dominated the English stage. The plays
were formulaic emotional appeals with predictable villains and heroes and happy endings. An example is
“The Corsican Brothers” by Dion Boucicault (1867). The plays were overacted, as Shaw complains in his
Preface to Arms and the Man when he mentions that his plays tax the ordinary actor’s “nuances of
execution” (p. xxii). Shaw gives minute and detailed stage directions in his plays to correct for this lack of
subtlety in the acting of his day.
Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen (1828-1906) was meanwhile pioneering realism in theater. Shaw
wrote The Quintessence of Ibsenism in 1890, explaining Ibsen’s methods and evaluating his plays. Ibsen
has been called the father of modern drama, turning it away from the stereotypes in sentimental drama
that upheld the traditional view of family, war, love and marriage, religion, and society. Ibsen’s plays
audaciously challenged the established views and caused public outrage. His characters do not find
happiness or success by following the moral codes of society. Their lives are facades that crumble upon
deeper investigation. Ibsen brought up issues like women’s rights (“A Doll’s House,” 1879), veneral
disease (“Ghosts,” 1881), dark family secrets (“The Wild Duck,” 1884), and the tragic manipulative
psyche (“Hedda Gabbler,” 1890). Ibsen’s work was influenced by the existential Danish philospher,
Soren Kierkegaard, who explored moral choice, subjective truth, and religious ambiguity. Ibsen’s was a
drama of ideas, and later playwrights, such as Shaw and Chekhov, took their cue from his work.
These playwrights established the modern theater that confronts social and psychological dilemmas in a
realistic context. Often, they raise complexities of the human psyche that are left open for the audience
to interpret. Both Ibsen and Shaw helped to modernize public awareness of social problems. In his
Preface to Arms and the Man Shaw speaks of this “New Drama” and his commitment to keep producing
it (p. xxi). He also speaks of “the incapacity for serious drama” of the playgoers of his day (p. xxiii). They
want to be entertained and think he gives them “modern pessimism” (p. xxii). Shaw’s commitment to
realism, however, largely avoids the tragedy of Ibsen’s realism through its farce and humor. Shaw finds
“plenty of good in the world working itself out as fast as the idealists will allow it” (Preface, p. xxv).
Idealism he equates with “lying” (p. xxvi), the obstacle to progress. Shaw pictured the gradual evolution
of the human race to a more benign future (“Back to Methuselah,” 1921), but romantic illusions about
how life works get in the way. For instance, Raina and Sergius keep up a pretense of being in love when
their instincts clearly prefer someone else who is a better match. Sergius wants to believe in the
romance of the cavalry charge though it endangers lives.
5. What is the historical background of this play?
Shaw first sketched out the play without an historical setting. His friend, Sidney Webb, came up with the
Serbo-Bulgarian war of 1885 as the model scenario. Shaw did research in the British Museum Reading
Room and chose Bulgaria as the setting. The character of Bluntschli may have been suggested by the life
of Johann Kaspar Bluntschli, a Swiss professor of law. He chose the name “Arms and the Man” from the
first line of Virgil’s epic poem Aeneid: “Of arms and the man [the hero Aeneas] I sing.” Shaw’s title is
ironic, for Virgil told the story of a hero, while Shaw’s play is about Bluntschi, the “chocolate-cream
soldier.”
The play mentions historical details of the Serbo-Bulgarian war, such as the Battle of Slivnitza that was
the turning point of the war, resulting in the Unification of Bulgaria. Bulgaria and Eastern Rumelia, which
was predominantly Bulgarian, announced their unification in 1885, against the will of the Great
European Powers, especially Austria. Serbia used the pretense of a border dispute to invade Bulgaria.
The Serbians had modern guns but as in Shaw’s version, they had trouble with their cannon. They also
underestimated the Bulgarians and used mostly young recruits. Shaw shows them running away as
Bluntschli did. The Russian officers allowed the Bulgarian officers like Sergius and Petkoff to conduct the
war. They were not as experienced as the Russians, but they had strong patriotism and morale. Shaw
makes Petkoff say that without the intervention of the Great Powers, the Serbs and Bulgarians would
not know how to fight. In the past, the Serbs and Bulgarians fought on the same side against the Turks,
but the Serbian soldiers were tricked into fighting their former allies. Austria intervened after Slivnitza,
disallowing more fighting. The Bulgarian victory settled the Unification question and boosted the
prestige of Bulgaria, since the Serbs had not before known defeat.
Shaw uses Bulgaria as an example of a backward nation wanting to join the family of modern European
nations. Bulgarians objected to Shaw’s stereotyping them as comic bumpkins who didn’t wash their
hands and thought that a library was a few paperback books. Shaw does, however, bring out the
political plight of such a country as Bulgaria, fighting for its identity among the bigger, modernized
nations. He shows that Louka and Nicola, the servants, are in fact, the strength of the country, being
closer to its roots. The Petkoffs and Sarnoff, wanting to be thought advanced, adopt the culture of
foreign countries that do not properly educate the people. Saranoff wastes his time trying to be Byronic,
and Catherine focuses on having an electric bell. This same phenomenon is still seen today when poorer
nations copy what is trivial and popular in richer countries.
6.What are the characters and the role they played in the play ”Arms and the man”?
Captain Bluntschli is “the chocolate-cream soldier.” He is a refugee and professional soldier, loyal to
whichever side can pay him. Bluntschli is 35, wealthy, honest, and humble.
Louka is one of the Petkoff’s maidservants. She is prideful and often acts on her resentment toward
those she serves, but she’s also very smart and witty to boot. Mesmerizing Raina’s fiance isn’t an
accident working against the class system in declaring they have a right to marry makes her the voice of
equality in a class conscious world.
Nicola is the Petkoff’s manservant. He is middle-aged, controlling, and has mastered the art of extortion,
but unlike Louka he doesn’t work against the class system, but rather uses it to get what he wants.
Nicola plans on using the money he extolls to set up shop in Sofia.
Catherine Petkoff is the grand lady. She runs a tight ship (household), and she is an excellent example of
the “true” aristocrat. Unfortunately, she treats her family in the same way she treats her servants.
Catherine focuses on keeping the upper hand within her household as a whole by consistently
demeaning those around her and using deception whenever necessary to control the action.
Catherine’s husband is Major Paul Petkoff. He is fifty years old and a member of the Bulgarian cavalry.
His wife and daughter both tend to wrap him around their little fingers, but they also love him. The one
thing that truly separates him from Catherine is his desire to live traditionally, something in direct
opposition to Catherine’s desire to modernize their lives.
Raina is the daughter of Catherine and Paul Petkoff. She is 23, beautiful, and engaged to Sergius (well, at
least until Louka moves in on him). Raina is a dreamer, she reads romance novels and has a great
imagination. She falls in love with Captain Bluntschli.
More Essential Questions
1. What is the source and irony of the title of this play?
2. While Shaw uses many elements of farce, this is still called a “drama of ideas.” Discuss Shaw’s use of
farce to demonstrate some of his ideas.
3. What is meant by the subtitle “An Anti-Romantic Comedy”?
4. Which character best serves as Shaw’s spokesman?
5. Shaw rejected romanticism and embraced realism. How realistic is Arms and the Man? How much of
it is “unrealistic”?
6. How does Sergius’ view of war differ from Bluntschli’s?
7. Other than being used for his farcical actions, how does Nicola function in the drama?
8. Is Louka’s entrapment of Sergius believable?
9. In what way is “Arms and the Man” an anti-romantic comedy?
10. Show how Shaw’s stage directions help with the production of the play as well as with assessment of
character.
11. Compare and contrast the characters of Bluntschli and Sergius.
12. Who is the hero of “Arms and the Man” ? Give your reasons.
13. Give an account of the part played by coincidence in the play.
14. Describe the part played by the coat and the photograph.
15. What picture of the war do you get in the play ?
16. How is Raina cured of her romantic illusions of war ?
17. Is the theme of the play related only to Bulgaria or is it universal ? Give your reasons.
18. What part do Petkoff and Catherine play in “Arms and the Man”?
19.Which characters have illusions about themselves and the world they live in? How do these illusions
help them? How do they hinder them? Who is pragmatic and sees the world as it is? How does this view
help them? How does it hurt them?
20.What different kinds of bravery are displayed throughout the story? Who shows the most bravery in
the play?
21.How do people display their social status? Who has the most power? Is it always the people with the
highest rank? Do servants have power?
22.Who is the best soldier? What makes them the best soldier? What is the difference between
Saranoff’s kind of soldier, and Bluntschli’s?
23.Who really runs the household, Petkoff or Catherine? Who holds the power in the relationships?
How do the women in this play prove themselves to be just as powerful and intelligent, if not more so,
than the men. They may not have been allowed in actual battle at the time, but what kind of battles do
the women in this play fight?
Criticism on
ARMS AND THE MAN
Literary Terms Used in the ARMS AND THE MAN
Shaw employs irony in the title of his play, taken from the opening line of the epic
poem “The Aeneid” written in 19 BC by the Roman poet Virgil – “Of arms and the man I
sing …” – in which Virgil glorifies war. Shaw’s purpose in this play, however, is to attack
the romantic idea of war.
The conflict in Arms and the Man is between opposing beliefs and ideas: the
romantic or idealistic notions of war and love which are held by Raina and the realistic
picture of war drawn by Bluntschli, as well as the practical side of love and marriage as
expressed by Louka.
The comedy of the play depends on contrasts of characters, unexpected turns of
events, mistaken identities, surprising opinions, irony, wit and satire.
The play has two major themes or issues: war and marriage. A romantic illusion
about war as held by Sergius and Raina leads to disasters, in the same way that
romantic notions of love lead to unhappy marriages. A minor theme deals with the
relationship between the upper and lower classes as represented by the Petkoffs who
are somewhat frivolous and incompetent and their servants Nicola and Louka who are
intelligent, practical and focused on clear goals. Although Shaw set the play in an exotic
corner of southeast Europe, his characters have recognizable British traits. Like all of
Shaw’s plays, Arms and the Man offers social criticism tempered by fine comedy.
Shaw chose what seemed like an insignificant little conflict between minor
countries as the starting point for his anti-war play. His warnings were prophetic,
however, since the conflicts in the Balkans during the late 19th century eventually led to
the First World War of 1914-1918. It was only through the senseless horror of this
conflict that the British people and the rest of the world came to realize the folly of their
romantic vision of war.
The plot:A fleeing member of the Serbian army desperately climbs through
Raina Petkoff’s bedroom window to escape capture, but he turns out to be a Swiss
mercenary officer by the name of Captain Bluntschli. Raina scolds him for being
cowardly and informs him of the bravery of her fiancé, Sergius, a cavalry officer who led
the Bulgarian victory. Bluntschli informs her of the foolish nature of Sergius’ charge in
the battle and then explains that chocolates are more valuable in a war than bullets, a
statement that outrages Raina. He shocks her even more when he reveals that he is
afraid and unwilling to die. However, when soldiers come seeking out the run-away,
Raina hides the fugitive, and only her maid, Louka, is aware of her actions. Act II takes
place four months later, when Raina’s father and fiancé have returned after the war.
The two men talk about a young Swiss officer who had impressed them with his practical approach to
the exchange of soldiers. The men also laugh about the tale of the officer’s escape and how a young girl
had given him shelter in her bedroom, little suspecting that it happened in Major Petkoff’s own house.
Meanwhile in secret, Sergius has been flirting
with Louka. Unexpectedly, Captain Bluntschli shows up to return an overcoat that Raina
had lent him for his escape, and she panics when her father
invites him to stay for lunch. In Act III, while Bluntschli is helping
the men plan for the transport of troops, Raina is worried that her
father will find the photo she had secretly left in the coat pocket
for her “Chocolate Cream Soldier”. When Sergius discovers the
bond between Raina and Bluntschli he challenges him to a duel,
but Raina interrupts and expresses her real feelings for
Bluntschli. Louka succeeds in securing Sergius for herself and
Major Petkoff and his wife give consent to Bluntschli to marry
Raina.
Shaw’s ‘Arms and the Man’ As an anti-romantic comedy
Shaw always wages a war against romantic and idealistic motion of life, against the shams and
hypocrisy and his war begins with ‘Arms and the Man’. Shaw calls ‘Arms and the Man’ ‘an anti-romantic
comedy’ as here he exposes the hollowness of the high idealistic romantic motion of love and war. In a
witty and thought provoking way shaw makes his readers to see the actual truth about love and war.
‘Arms and the Man’ opens with a note of romance and heroism. Raina is a romantic girl who is
engaged with sergins, a ‘Byronic hero’ who has gone to the battlefield like a knight. He makes a heroic
charge and wins a victory and becomes the hero of the hour. Both Raina and sergius live in a world of
romance and unreality. Their romantic ideals are the outcome of reading Byron and Puskins. It is for this
reason their romance is easily shattered coming contact with reality. Blutschli slowly makes Raina aware
of her foolish motion about war. He tells her that sergins is a fool and block head and he and his
regiment neary committed suicide only the pistol missed fire. He further said that ‘nine soldiers out of
ten are born fools.’ Gradually both Raina and Sergins understand their hollowness and sergins said that
war is nothing but the ‘coward’s art’.
Raina and Sergins become disillusioned in their romantic ideals of love. Sergins finds it very tiring
and seeks relief in Louka, the maid and when he gets the chance he flirts with her. Raina finally discovers
her ‘hero’ as nothing but a day. On the otherhand Sergins discovers Raina’s new real love for Bluntschli.
She turns to Bluntschli not because he faces bullets, but because he faces facts. Raina becomes
educated by the realist Bluntschli and fully understands herself and the reality. The cobweb of romantic
net is broken and the searchlight of reality ridicules the false romanticism.
Shaw is not merely a realist rather an anti-romantic. He never presents realism in a photographic
manner. In under to achieve his anti-romantic purpose the dramatist resorts to exaggeration of reality. A
fugitive soldier must demand food when he is famished but what Bluntschli demands is heard to
believe—echocolates. Sex may be an impersonal instinct but in real life sergiuses are usually found to
marry Rainas not the Loukas. Soldiers are fools but how can we believe that the pistol remains on the
front but the officers overlook it.
It will be unjust to say that the play in devoid of romance. The opening of the drama is
melodramatic one. The beautiful dreamy heroine, the heroic exploits, the war cry, the running away of
the soldiers, the fugitives, the narrow save, the love at first sight between Raina and Bluntschli—
everything bears the note of romanticism. Bluntschli inspite of his realistic attitude describes himself as
a man of romantic disposition. Inspite of his father’s well established hotel business he joins in the army.
He could have sent the coat of Major Petkoff but brings it himself as he wants to have a second look to
Raina.
The drama is anti-romantic and shaw exposes the romantic motion of life specially the foolish
motions regarding love and war. Here he places before the readers the facts of life—the truth that lies
behind the romantic illusion of life. It is, therefore aptly said by chestenton ‘ a play built not on pathos,
but on bathos or anti-climax.
Explaining the Title of G. B. Shaw’s Arms and The Man
A good title should be apt and suggestive. It should also be attractive and sticking, so as at once to
capture the attention of the audience or the readers. Just as a signboard indicates the contents of a
shop, so also a good title should indicate the theme of the play. Let us apply these criteria for judging
the aptness of the title of George Bernard Shaw’s play.
The title of Arms and The man as Shaw himself says in his preface has been taken from the first line of
Dryden’s Virgil. Drydon’s translation of Virgil’s Aeneid begins with the following couplet:
“Arms and The Man I sing, who forced by fate
And haughty Juno’s unrelenting hate.”
Shaw has also quoted ‘Arms Virumque Cano’ as a motto in his play which the man is more than his
weapons. The Arm Virumque Cano of Virgil is a mounting and ascending phrase which suggests a superb
procession which should bring on to the stage the brazen and resounding armour, the shield and
shattering axe, but end with the hero himself, taller and more terrible because unarmed.
The title of Arms and The man is chose after careful consideration. The title is both apt chosen attractive
and the dramatist’s choices justified. It is an ironical reversal of Virgil’s original intention. Virgil in his
famous epic The Aencid recounts the martial exploits and adventures of Aeneid. But Shaw does not look
at war with the same eyes as Virgil. He does not write this drama to speak about the glories of war. He
rather proves that heroism and utter foolishness do not lie far apart. He shows through his characters
that we must divest ourselves of all romantic illusions about war and real success falls to the man who
acts with a realist’s self composure.
The action of Arms and The man evolves out the background of war (arms) its impact on the fate of the
solders and those who came in contact with theme (man) representing different shades of life. The
fortunes of solders form the staple of the plot; the discussion on war bulks large in the drama. Here
those who are romantic face disillusionment and find themselves fools, while on the other hand, those
who are realist in thoughts and approaches, sucked at every at age in life. Raina the heroine has
romantic notions represents. Sergius a romantic fool in contrasted with the brilliant comic figure and
matter of fact soldier captain Bluntschli – The moment the sun of Bluntschli’s realism rises on the
horizon of the play, the fog of Raina’s romanticism disappears. Raina’s disillusionment and the
revelation of the hollowness of the ideals of love and heroism is infect an unromantic and unsentimental
sage of Arms and The man.
George Bernard Shaw has successfully accomplished his mission through his title. It is thought provoking
interesting and ironical. Further, it gives Shaw full vent to his comic genius along with his serious
engagement with major social ethical issues. Thus Arms and The man is a befitting title to a drama
where war’s is the mainspring of actions and thoughts. No doubt it treats of romantic love but the main
theme is the fictitious glory of war. The play amply demonstrates the power of man over arms. It Shows
how man controls situations overcomes obstacles and thereby proves himself superior to arms. This
makes the title quite appropriate.
The Plot of “Arms and the Man”
The backdrop of Shaw’s comedy is the Serbo-Bulgarian War, an ill-planned campaign that lasted less
than a month and resulted in over 1000 casualties as well as Bulgaria’s unification with a small province
of the Ottoman Empire.
The play takes place in the wealthy home of Major Petkoff. The Petkoff estate is the only home to
possess a library, albeit a small, shabby one. The Major is commanding forces on the front line while his
matronly wife (Katherine) and his duplicitous 23-year old daughter (Raina) wait for the end of the war.
Katherine and Raina discuss the heroics of Sergius Saranoff, Raina’s fiance. News has recently arrived,
indicating that Sergius led a valiant charge that secured a victory for Bulgaria. Yet, since the conflict is
not over, Katherine fears that Serbian soldiers might do damage to the town (and perhaps their home)
as they retreat.
Just as Raina is about to turn in for the evening, a man climbs up a drainpipe and stumbles through her
second story window. Desperate to survive and armed with a pistol, Captain Bluntschli seems
threatening at first. However, Raina soon learns that this “professional soldier” carries chocolates
instead of ammunition. After he begs for sanctuary, Raina is at first disgusted and then intrigued by
what she believes to be cowardice. She takes pity on him, concealing him in her room when Bulgarian
soldiers come searching for him.
Bluntschli fascinates the young lady because he does not attempt any facades of heroism or nobility. As
a Swiss mercenary, he had been fighting against Bulgaria merely for profit, not national pride. For the
past fifteen years he had been risking his life as little as possible. His discussion captivates Raina when
he speaks of a young commander (who turns out to be Sergius) leading a foolish charge that only
worked because the Serbians had the wrong cartridges and could not return fire.
Perhaps because she has never met anyone with such bluntness, Raina assists with his escape the next
day. She lends him her father’s coat, covertly placing a portrait of herself in the pocket of the jacket. In
spite of his cowardly, chocolate munching ways, she likes him.
Act Two begins days later, shortly after a treaty has been side between the opposing forces. Major
Petkoff rejoices in his return to a peaceful home life, complete with servants to boss around.
The Servant Subplot:
Nicola is the principle male servant of the Petkoff household. Louka is the fiery, ambitious (not to
mention attractive) maid. She disdains her occupation, and constantly insults Nicola (with whom she is
reluctantly engaged), declaring that he has the meager soul of a servant. Nicola, however, has his own
ambitions. He hopes to start his own business, and when he realizes that Sergius has romantic desires
for Louka, he decides that he would rather have her as a wealthy customer rather than a wife.
Therefore, at the play’s end, Nicola encourages Louka’s engagement with Sergius.
During Act Two, the audience discovers that the noble Sergius is not so noble. He doubts his own
reputation for bravery, yet still tries to maintain an appearance of pomp and dignity. When reunited
with his betrothed Raina, the two exchange the trappings of romance. However, as soon as she leaves
the room, he takes an interest in the maid.
Louka’s clever schemes don’t seem to work at first. During Act Two, when she reveals the secret of the
hidden “chocolate soldier,” Sergiius becomes outraged, grabbing onto her, even bruising her.
Undeterred, the maid continues her pursuit of Sergius, eventually luring him into an announcement of
their engagement. Thus, Louka shocks her employers (the Petkoff family) by rising above her station,
becoming a lady – just like Raina. Nicola is satisfied as well, gaining an affluent customer of his new
business.
Stumbling Into Prosperity
Considering Shaw was a British socialist, it seems surprising that many of his comedies conclude with his
characters gaining a sizable increase in wealth and status. For example, Captain Bluntschli first appears
as a common soldier. By Act Two, when he returns the borrowed coat, the audience learns that he is
acquainted with both Sergius and the Major. In fact, shortly after his escape he began working for the
Bulgarian side, demonstrating his mercenary nature but also his organizational skills. For example, the
Major cannot fathom how to organize his troops so they can effectively travel back to their base.
Bluntschli, on the other hand, easy tackles the assignment, quickly writing up orders and knowing just
how the troops should be properly motivated. By Act Three, we learn that Captain Bluntschli has
inhereted an enormous franchise of hotels from his recently deceased father (whom he does not seem
to mourn in the slightest). When Raina is lured into an offer of marriage (which she coyly accepts since
she seems enamored by him in spite of herself), she will be marrying into a fortune.
So, why the fixation with wealth? Why is Bluntschli a practical at times cowardly protagonist instead of a
dashing hero? Perhaps because Shaw wants us to see through the illusion if economic class and beyond
the gleam of military medals. Bluntschli is the most “manly” character of the play simply because he
openly acknowledges and understands his own limitations, and has a keen insight into the motivations
of others. He follows the golden advice of Socrates: “Know thyself.”
Class and Social Critique in Arms and the Man
Throughout Arms and the Man by George Bernard Shaw, slight variances are used in the speech of the
characters to indicate class distinctions. It is clear that Shaw, a noted socialist, has a great deal of
concern about class issues and instead of making the reader keenly aware of these notions throughout
Arms and the Man via any direct mention, Shaw uses their dialogue as well as cues within the setting to
reveal these elements. “Despite the prominence of debate and speechmaking in his plays, one
sometimes forgets that before Shaw-the-playwright came Shaw-the-debater and public speaker. All
were platform spellbinders” (Dukore 385).
Part of the reason it is so easy to forget that there a number of encoded social messages within Arms
and the Man by George Bernard Shaw, is because is remarkably deft at conveying injustices and
problems through characterization and language. Shaw’s writing style is thus very critical of the
Victorian-era society yet instead of doing this overtly, he relies on gestures, dialogue, and setting to set
the stage for the debate. His “public speaking” would, in this sense be limited to the voices of his
characters who come from variable class backgrounds and have a system of language that is suitable for
their class. Only through this mode can George Bernard Shaw open a platform for class debates.
At the very beginning of Arms and the Man, the reader is already cued into the class differences that will
plague the text until the end. For instance, the introduction of Raina is not one that values her inner life,
but those of outer appearances, something that is of great importance to her and her family. Without
dialogue, she is introduced, “On the balcony, a young lady, intensely conscious of the romantic beauty of
the night, and of the fact that her own youth and beauty is a part of it, is on the balcony, gazing at the
snowy Balkans. She is covered by a long mantle of furs, worth, on a moderate estimate, about three
times the furniture of the room” (Shaw 4). Here, it is not important who she is or what she thinks about
her class position, but rather it is made clear that she is within an upper class and strives to maintain the
outward appearances through her luxurious clothing while the representative items of her “inner life”
(in this case her bedroom) are shoddy and unremarkable.
Without being told the first thing about this character’s thoughts, it is clear that reader should be
immediately attentive to class distinctions through outward appearances. It should also be noted that
this setting is beautiful, but we are not expected to focus on the beauty in a traditional way, but rather
to pay attention to the social statement—that there is a woman who obviously pays more for her
clothes than the upkeep of her living quarters. In the mind of one critic, “The world, as he [George
Bernard Shaw] looks out upon it, is a painful spectacle to his eyes. Pity and indignation move him. He is
not sentimental, as some writers are, but the facts grind his soul… in a word, art has an end beyond
itself; and the object of Shaw’s art in particular is to make men think, to make them uncomfortable, to
convict them of sin” (Salter 446). As this essay makes clear, his is an especially succinct observation in
this scene since there is opportunity for sentimentality and romanticism (since she is framed by a lovely
setting) but this is not enough for George Bernard Shaw; he must shift the object of the reader’s gaze
away from physical beauty to the darker world of class and character.
Descriptions go beyond setting as well in Arms and the Man. The class of characters is not only revealed
and critiqued by the setting itself, but by the narrated actions and stage directions for particular
characters. For instance, consider the graceful language and the almost fairy-tale nature of the “dance”
of Raina and her fiancée as they simply sit down for dinner. The narrator states, “Sergius leads Raina
forward with splendid gallantry, as if she were a queen. When they come to the table, she turns to him
with a bend of the head; he bows; and thus they separate, he coming to his place, and she going behind
her father’s chair” (25). This is a very detailed and complex routine these characters in Arms and the
Man act out and is representative of the codified ideals of chivalric behavior typically associated with
the elite. This stands in sharp constant to the plodding nature of the exchanges between Nicola and
Louka, whose settings and stage directions are not filled with the same dreamy interludes. While Sergius
and Raina literally appear to dance in the aforementioned scene, the lower class scenes of the two
servants are much less stunning, the narrator only stating where they are in physical space and their
language being stunted and free from the dramatic connotations and Byron-like feel of the upper class
characters.
This same shift in possibilities, from the potential sentimentality to the social critique, is apparent in
terms of language as well as setting descriptions. According to one scholar, “Characters whose impulses
are conventional or traditional will use language reflecting their mechanical responses and will be
satirized accordingly, while characters who posses a Shavian vitality will express that spontaneity
through a freedom not only from moral and ethical formulas but from verbal convention as well”
(Weintraub 215). This is apparent when contrasting two particular classes represented in Arms and the
Man . First of all, it should be noted that those of the lower class, especially the solider who enters
Raina’s room and the servant girl Nicola are all exciting and interesting characters. They posses the
“Shavian vitality” and their language is free from the ornament and needless over-romanticized talk of
the upper classes. Consider, as a comparison, the meaning that is compressed, while remaining vital
when Louka scolds her servant friend, saying with “searching scorn” no less, “You have the soul of a
servant, Nicola” (31). Some of the most powerful emotion in Arms and the Man is present in these short
but potent statements. Another example of this would be when the solider tells Raina, “I’ve no
ammunition. What use are cartridges in battle? I always carry chocolate instead; and I finished the last
cake of that yesterday” (14). In many ways, it seems as though these characters with clipped but highly
powerful statements are much like Shaw.
These characters in Arms and the Man are making massive overarching statements about their world
without seeming to do it, as if any implied social critique might have been incidental. These short bursts
of meaning for much farther to reveal genuine sentiment than Raina’s long winded proclamations of
love when she confesses, breathlessly and dramatically, Well, it came into my head just as he was
holding me in his arms and looking into my eyes, that perhaps we only had our heroic idea because we
are so find of reading Byron and Pushkin, and because we were so delighted with the opera that season
at Bucharest. Real life is so seldom like that—indeed never, as far as I knew it then” (Shaw 10). While at
the end she makes a powerful statement, she is too caught up in the class-driven notions of how a lady
should speak to be able to make a direct and succinct statement that has the gravity of the
aforementioned quotes from the lower class characters in Arms and the Man by George Bernard Shaw
In sum, as the thesis statement for this essay (and the essays of other scholars) and important quotes
in“Arms and the Man” Shaw is not overt in his social critiques in this play. The style of George Bernard
Shaw requires that the reader interpret not only the varied language of his characters, but of the deeper
meanings behind the settings and speech. While a particular scene’s description might seem, on first
glance, to offer a beautiful setting or something simple, underneath these images are deeper layers of
meaning that are geared towards society. In terms of dialogue, George Bernard Shaw writes his
characters as complete individuals whose class and deep thoughts lay masked behind relatively simplesounding speeches. The ultimate effect of this writing style is that the reader becomes implicated in
class debates (as well as other equally prominent debates about the nature of war as well) and is left
with a moving story as well as something more to consider.
Analysis of the Social Context of
Arms and the Man
George Bernard Shaw wrote Arms and the Man in 1893 during the Victorian era when most plays were
lighter dramas or comedies in the vein of The Importance of Being Earnest, which was a play about
manners and other Victorian conventions. Still, in many ways, Arms and the Man, despite some of its
themes, is a perfect example of Victorian literature. The play opened to the British public in 1894 to
mixed reviews and was one of the plays included in the Plays Pleasant Volume which included a few of
Shaw’s other, less popular works including “You Never Can Tell.” What is most interesting about Arms
and the Man is that, although it is a comedy, it deals with several political and social themes covertly.
Ideas such as the idealism behind war and the romanticism of love are attacked through satire and even
more importantly, issues of class are brought to the forefront. Shaw was an avid socialist and had a
number of beliefs about class that are appropriate to the historical situation in Europe. At the time the
play was performed, Britain was experiencing a number of significant social and political changes as
issues of class were coming to the forefront of national debates.
The idea of class struggle is at the heart of “Arms and the Man” by George Bernard Shaw but instead of
making the reader or viewer keenly aware of them, he slips in a number of thought-provoking lines and
makes one think about these issues after the laughter has faded. Unlike other plays of the time,Arms
and the Man did not seek to merely entertain an audience with polite humor. Instead, it sought to
expose some of the most pressing issues of the day in a palatable format—the comedy. This is a
trademark feature of Shaw’s plays and he once wrote, “What is the use of writing plays, what is the use
of writing anything, if there is not a will which finally moulds chaos itself into a race of gods” (Peters
109). In other words, George Bernard Shaw thought that there was no sense in writing something for
mere entertainment, what he wrote had to serve a higher purpose and encourage people to think rather
to sit and be content to be entertained.
At the time George Bernard Shaw wrote the Arms and the Man there were a number of class struggles
taking place in Britain as a new wave of socialist ideology was taking hold. Up until this point, workers in
Britain were often paid low wages and offered little security as their country became even further
industrialized. In response there were several workers movements that rose up across the nation and
this drew the attention of artists and writers such as Shaw. Issues of class struggle were coming to the
forefront of both political and debates in Europe and Shaw began working with the socialist cause. His
feelings that the British workers were not advocating their interests enough and that the political
structure in England was making it impossible for them to have any success led him to speak out
publicly, often at the risk of some of his personal friendships. In addition to writing plays, Shaw became
a full-time advocate of socialism and joined the Fabian Society where he wrote a number of socialist
documents. He also traveled to Russia, met with Stalin, and came home to declare how wonderfully he
believed socialism was going in that country.
In “Arms and the Man” George Bernard Shaw chose to set his place in the midst of a foreign war, in part
so that he could offer some commentary about war. The lead female in the play, much like English
audiences of the time, is sucked into the idea of the war hero and finds it difficult to think that war is
anything except not glamorous. Notions of love and war as well as class are turned upside down and the
reader is forced to confront them just as British playgoers of the time would eventually have to face
these issues when the First World War finally came around over a decade later. At this time though, war
was still a vague enough notion that it could be romanticized and this is part of the criticism George
Bernard Shaw offers in the play Arms and the Man. In addition to this is his commentary about class
which is the most important in terms of the social context of this play. “Arms and the Man” by George
Bernard Shaw occurs during the Serbo-Bulgarian War in 1885. She is supposed to marry one of the
heroes of the war who she thinks of in terms of the idealized version of soldiers many British held during
this pre-World War I era. The peace of the beginning scenes is interrupted with the arrival of a Swiss
soldier in Raina’s bedroom asking for a safe place to hide. Raina offers him refuge and laughs because he
does not carry guns or ammunition but chocolate instead. As the play progresses, Raina eventually
begins to understand that her betrothed does not fit into the same heroic image she has always had and
instead begins to fall in love with the Swiss soldier. By the end of the play “Arms and the Man” by
George Bernard Shaw she finally declares her love for the soldier and the story ends happily for nearly
everyone. What is missing from this short synopsis is the way that George Bernard Shaw addresses the
important social issue of class during this time. Throughout “Arms and the Man” George Bernard Shaw
he constantly but with subtlety makes a number of important statements about his political and social
beliefs about society and class that make reference to the social context of this play—Victorian England.
Throughout “Arms and the Man” by George Bernard Shaw, slight variances are used in the speech of the
characters to indicate class distinctions. It is clear that Shaw, a noted socialist, has a great deal of
concern about class issues and instead of making the reader keenly aware of these notions through any
direct mention, he uses their dialogue as well as cues within the setting to reveal these elements.
“Despite the prominence of debate and speechmaking in his plays, one sometimes forgets that before
Shaw-the-playwright came Shaw-the-debater and public speaker. All were platform spellbinders”
(Dukore 385). Part of the reason it is so easy to forget that there a number of encoded social messages
within the text is because is remarkably deft at conveying injustices and problems through
characterization and language. His writing style is thus very critical of the Victorian-era society yet
instead of doing this overtly, he relies on gestures, dialogue, and setting to set the stage for the debate.
His “public speaking” would, in this sense be limited to the voices of his characters who come from
variable class backgrounds and have a system of language that is suitable for their class. Only through
this mode can Shaw open a platform for class debates.
At the very beginning of “Arms and the Man” by George Bernard Shaw, the reader is already cued into
the class differences that will plague the text until the end. For instance, the introduction of Raina in
“Arms and the Man” by George Bernard Shaw is not one that values her inner life, but those of outer
appearances, something that is of great importance to her and her family. Without dialogue, she is
introduced in one of the important quotes from Arms and the Man by George Bernard Shaw, “On the
balcony, a young lady, intensely conscious of the romantic beauty of the night, and of the fact that her
own youth and beauty is a part of it, is on the balcony, gazing at the snowy Balkans. She is covered by a
long mantle of furs, worth, on a moderate estimate, about three times the furniture of the room” (Shaw
4). Here, it is not important who she is or what she thinks about her class position, but rather it is made
clear that she is within an upper class and strives to maintain the outward appearances through her
luxurious clothing while the representative items of her “inner life” (in this case her bedroom) are
shoddy and unremarkable. Without being told the first thing about this character’s thoughts, it is clear
that reader should be immediately attentive to class distinctions through outward appearances. It
should also be noted that this setting is beautiful, but we are not expected to focus on the beauty in a
traditional way, but rather to pay attention to the social statement—that there is a woman who
obviously pays more for her clothes than the upkeep of her living quarters. In the mind of one critic,
“The world, as he [Shaw] looks out upon it, is a painful spectacle to his eyes. Pity and indignation move
him. He is not sentimental, as some writers are, but the facts grind his soul… in a word, art has an end
beyond itself; and the object of Shaw’s art in particular is to make men think, to make them
uncomfortable, to convict them of sin” (Salter 446). This is an especially succinct observation in this
scene since there is opportunity for sentimentality and romanticism (since she is framed by a lovely
setting) but this is not enough for Shaw; he must shift the object of the reader’s gaze away from physical
beauty to the darker world of class and character.
Descriptions go beyond setting as well in “Arms and the Man” by George Bernard Shaw. The class of
characters is not only revealed and critiqued by the setting itself, but by the narrated actions and stage
directions for particular characters. For instance, consider the graceful language and the almost fairytale nature of the “dance” of Raina and her fiancée as they simply sit down for dinner. The narrator
states in one of the important quotes from “Arms and the Man” by George Bernard Shaw, “Sergius leads
Raina forward with splendid gallantry, as if she were a queen. When they come to the table, she turns to
him with a bend of the head; he bows; and thus they separate, he coming to his place, and she going
behind her father’s chair” (25). This is a very detailed and complex routine these characters act out and
is representative of the codified ideals of chivalric behavior typically associated with the elite. This
stands in sharp constant to the plodding nature of the exchanges between Nicola and Louka, whose
settings and stage directions are not filled with the same dreamy interludes. While Sergius and Raina
literally appear to dance in the aforementioned scene, the lower class scenes of the two servants are
much less stunning, the narrator only stating where they are in physical space and their language being
stunted and free from the dramatic connotations and Byron-like feel of the upper class characters.
This same shift in possibilities, from the potential sentimentality to the social critique, is apparent in
terms of language as well as setting descriptions. According to one scholar, “Characters whose impulses
are conventional or traditional will use language reflecting their mechanical responses and will be
satirized accordingly, while characters who posses a Shavian vitality will express that spontaneity
through a freedom not only from moral and ethical formulas but from verbal convention as well”
(Weintraub 215). This is apparent when contrasting two particular classes represented in the play. First
of all, it should be noted that those of the lower class, especially the solider who enters Raina’s room
and the servant girl Nicola are all exciting and interesting characters. They posses the “Shavian vitality”
and their language is free from the ornament and needless over-romanticized talk of the upper classes.
Consider, as a comparison, the meaning that is compressed, while remaining vital when Louka scolds her
servant friend, saying with “searching scorn” no less, “You have the soul of a servant, Nicola” (31). Some
of the most powerful emotion in the text is present in these short but potent thesis statements. Another
example of this would be when the solider tells Raina, “I’ve no ammunition. What use are cartridges in
battle? I always carry chocolate instead; and I finished the last cake of that yesterday” (14). In many
ways, it seems as though these characters with clipped but highly powerful statements are much like
Shaw. They are making massive overarching statements about their world without seeming to do it, as if
any implied social critique might have been incidental. These short bursts of meaning for much farther
to reveal genuine sentiment than Raina’s long winded proclamations of love when she confesses,
breathlessly and dramatically, Well, it came into my head just as he was holding me in his arms and
looking into my eyes, that perhaps we only had our heroic idea because we are so find of reading Byron
and Pushkin, and because we were so delighted with the opera that season at Bucharest. Real life is so
seldom like that—indeed never, as far as I knew it then” (Shaw 10). While at the end she makes a
powerful statement, she is too caught up in the class-driven notions of how a lady should speak to be
able to make a direct and succinct statement that has the gravity of the aforementioned quotes from
the lower class characters.
In sum, Shaw is not overt in his social critiques in this play. His style requires that the reader interpret
not only the varied language of his characters, but of the deeper meanings behind the settings and
speech. While a particular scene’s description might seem, on first glance, to offer a beautiful setting or
something simple, underneath these images are deeper layers of meaning that are geared towards
society. In terms of dialogue and Arms and the Man, Shaw writes his characters as complete individuals
whose class and deep thoughts lay masked behind relatively simple-sounding speeches. The ultimate
effect of this writing style is that the reader becomes implicated in class debates (as well as other
equally prominent debates about the nature of war as well) and is left with a moving story as well as
something more to consider. In more broad terms, the play, Arms and the Man by George Bernard Shaw
reflects some of the intense class conflicts of the day and addresses several of Shaw’s ideas about
society and politics as well.
Realism in Arms and the Man:
A Comparative Study – Realism and Idealism
Literary realism is a style in literature that presents things and people as they are in real life. It is
opposed to romanticism or idealism. It is a way of seeing, accepting and dealing with situations as they
really are without being influenced by emotions or false hopes. It is a concept that believes in reflecting
real life situations. Moreover, most often, literary realism refers to the trend, beginning with certain
works of nineteenth-century French literature and extending to late nineteenth and early twentieth
century authors in various countries, toward depictions of contemporary life and society ―as they
were”. The realist writers presented the society as it was. They adopted realistic everyday activities
which were common those days. Besides, realism ” is applied by literary critics in two diverse ways: (1)
to identify a movement in the writing of novels during the nineteenth century that included Honore de
Balzac in France, George Eliot in England, and William Dean Howells in America, and (2) to designate a
recurrent mode, in various eras and literary forms, of representing human life and experience in
literature.”1 Moreover, ―realistic fiction is often opposed to romantic fiction. The romance is said to
present life as we would have it to be— more picturesque, fantastic, adventurous, or heroic than
actuality; realism, on the other hand, is said to represent life as it really is.”2 Thus it is clear that the
purpose of realistic fiction is to give the effect that it represents life and society that suits and evokes
the common reader.
G. B. Shaw ( 1856-1950), a towering figure of his time, depicted his society candidly for which he
suffered criticism in early days. But later on, he established his image as an anti-romantic in his society.
As we know that literature is mirror of society, Shaw reflects the same beautifully in his works. Shaw for
writing plays, was very much impressed by Henrik Ibsen, who pioneered modern realistic drama,
meaning designed to heighten awareness of some important social issues and sensitize the audience.
Subsequently, Shaw made it a forum for considering moral, political, social and economic issues of his
day, possibly his most important contribution to dramatic art. The title of the play Arms and the Man is
taken from the opening line of the epic poem “The Aeneid” written in 19 BC by the Roman poet Virgil. In
The Aenied, ” of arms and the man I sing”, Virgil glorifies war whereas Shaw employs irony in the title
Arms and the Man. He (Shaw) attacks romantic notion of war. The conflict in Arms and the Man is
between opposing beliefs and ideas: the romantic or idealistic notions of war and love which are held by
Raina (the heroine) and the realistic picture of war drawn by Bluntschli, as well as the practical side of
love and marriage as expressed by Louka. Arms and the Man is one of the earliest plays by Bernard
Shaw. It appears to be amusing but has a serious message. It is amusing as well as thought- provoking.
Here laughter and seriousness are juxtaposed. For realities of love and marriage my views are
corroborated with A.C. Ward’s observation: The realities of love and marriage became one of the most
frequent themes in Shaw’s plays throughout the remainder of his long life. He thought of marriage not
as a means of satisfying the personal desires of individual men and women, nor as a means of
strengthening family ties, but as the means of bringing to birth a new and better generation. Though no
one can predict with certainty the consequences of any marriage, Shaw never swerved from the
conviction that marriage is a solemn contract, not a frivolous domestic excursion. In Arms and the Man
and often elsewhere he laughed at this the humors Raina, Sergius and Bluntschli lay the memories of
Shaw’s own childhood in a home shadowed by the failure of his own parent’s marriage. The rest of the
play is mostly light-hearted fun, though amid the fun there are several shrewd hints at two sorts of
snobbery which also presents the real picture of society. The “snobbery of the man servant Nicola who
regards his employees with cynical servility, despising them, yet humbling himself before them because
“That’s what they like; and that’s how you will make most of them.”4 Here Shaw hints at the
materialistic mindset of the people which is irrefutable in the contemporary world. The snobbery of the
Petkoffs who think themselves better than their neighbors because they have a library and an electrical
bell. As “an upholder of social equality Shaw was opposed to any idea that servants are inferior class. He
held that all necessary work, however menial, is valuable as a service to the community.”
He also believed that “it was mean and foolish to act as though the possession of wealth, or any other
material advantage, is a sign of personal superiority”which is very clear through the portrayal of his
characters. The Petkoffs claim to be the richest family in Bulgaria. They have not got positions in army
because they have ability rather they are affluent. It is true sometimes that it is wealth and not the
ability to rise in life as is the case with Major Petkoff. The comedy of the play depends on contrast of
characters, unexpectedly turns of events, mistaken identities, surprising opinions, irony, wit and satire.
Notwithstanding, in the beginning of the play, we come to know the fact that Raina is betrothed to
Major Sergius who is a dashingly handsome romantic hero filled with bravado and idealistic morals, but
at last she yields to the man she call her ‘ chocolate cream soldier ‘. She takes him as her husband. As
such, Raina is very much impressed by the bona fides of Bluntschli. In a similar vein, Louka, a handsome,
proud servant girl in the Petkoff household who looks down servility , ties her nuptial knot with Sergius.
Nevertheless, while the runaway soldier, Bluntschli, enters Raina’s chamber, she enquires, ―Who’s
there? Who is that (Act I)? A man’s voice (in the darkness, subduedly, but threateningly). Sh— sh! Don’t
call out; or you will be shot. Be good; and no harm will happen to you. (She is heard leaving her bed, and
making for the door). Take care: it’s no use trying to run away. Remember, if you raise your voice my
pistol will go off. (Commandingly) Strike a light and let me see you. Do you hear? Another moment of
silence and darkness as she retreats to the chest of drawers. Then she lights a candle; and the mystery is
at an end. He is a deplorable plight, bespattered with mud and blood and snow, his belt and strap of his
revolver-case keeping together the torn ruins of the blue tunic of a Serbian artillery officer. Excuse my
disturbing you; but you recognize my uniform? Serb! If I’m caught I shall be killed. (Menacingly) Do you
understand that? ―I don’t intend to get killed if I can help it. Do you understand that? This scene
beautifully brings out the It is universally true statement that no one wants to die. Raina thinks that only
some soldiers are afraid of death. But the runaway soldier makes it clear that all of them are. Here Shaw
makes it a point to prove realism that ” a dying soul can go to any extent in order to save life. Besides, in
real life, a pistol, without bullet, can work havoc. The pistol which is possessed by the Swiss soldier has
no bullets but it creates havoc. Now let us talk about the setting of the play. Shaw has given a Bulgarian
setting to Arms and the Man. This setting attracted the ordinary theatre goers who wanted to be
entertained. Shaw wanted to entertain the people but with a serious message. Arms and the Man is set
during the very brief Serbo – Bulgarian war of November, 1885. In a dispute between the two
neighboring Balkan countries, each of whom felt the other had expansionist designs, Serbia was being
backed by the Austro-Hungarian Empire and Bulgaria was being backed by the Russian Empire. Each of
the larger powers was supporting the quarrelling countries with officers and supplies. The Swiss
provided a large number of mercenaries, (such as Captain Bluntschli ) who profited by, but cared
nothing for, the outcome of the war. Shortly after Serbia declared war in November 1885 and invaded,
Russia called back her officers and Bulgaria was left to fend for herself. In spite of this setback, the
Bulgarians were victorious in the battle of Slivnitza on 19th November. The small town where the
Petkoffs live was on the main road leading back to Serbia where the retreating army was fleeing.
Historically,” the Balkans is a name given to the region which includes modern – day Greece, Albania,
Montenegro, Bosnia, Serbia, Bulgaria and Romania. During the 19th century, after over 500 years of
ruling this southeastern quadrant of Europe, ( as well as North Africa, Spain and much of the Middle
East), the one powerful Ottoman ( Turkish ) Empire was weakening. The great powers of Europe—
Russia, Germany, Austria—were more than willing to divide up any spoils that would result from a
Turkish defeat. The question was, of course, which of these powers would reap the largest benefits. The
Balkans has an exceedingly complex history, peopled by a wide variety of religious, ethnic, and linguistic
groups scattered through this mountainous territory in a seemingly random manner. Dividing up the
region into countries during the latter part of the nineteenth century therefore became contentious and
has resulted in border disputes, civil wars and ethnic massacres even to this day.” Shaw, one of the
literary stalwarts, possessed a dominating personality which will be remembered even after his plays
have been forgotten, and he will be always known as the most outstanding figure of his time. As pointed
out by A.C. Ward, Shaw ―has been for modern Britain what Socrates was for ancient Greece, ―i.e., the
Good Man of our time. In fact, Shaw has immortalized himself in his works. From the dramatic point of
view, the first half of the nineteenth century was almost completely barren. Towards the middle of
century, there can be traced a significant development from romantic and historical themes, and this
movement towards realism received considerable impetus from the work of T.W. Robertson ( 18291871) , a writer of comedies, who introduced in his plays the idea of serious theme underlying the
humor, characters and dialogue of a more natural kind. He is inseparably connected with the modern
revival of English drama. In Arms and the Man, the treatment of real English life was under Ibsen’s
influence that serious drama from 1890 onward ceased to deal with themes remote in time or place.
Ibsen had taught men that drama, if it was to live a true life of its own, must deal with human life
emotions, with things near and dear to ordinary men and women. Hence melodramatic romanticism
and treatment of remote historic themes alike disappeared in favor of a treatment of actual English life,
first of aristocratic life, then of middle-class lives, and finally of laboring conditions. For its own stage
types, Victorian audience understood well enough, or at least took for granted. Shaw’s efforts, insofar as
he ventured into criticism. His energies were concentrated on explaining and shielding his infusion of
the real elements. It does not concern me that, according to certain ethical systems, all human beings
fall into classes labelled liar, coward, and thief; and so on……As a realist dramatist ……..it is my business
to get outside these systems. For instance, in the play of mine which is most in evidence in London just
now, the heroine has been classified by critics as a minx, a liar, and a poseuse. I have nothing to do with
that: the only moral question for me is, does she do good or harm? If you admit that she does good, that
she generously saves another man’s life and wisely extricates herself from a false position with another
man, then you may classify her as you please—— brave, generous, and affectionate; or artful,
dangerous, faithless—- it is all one to me; you can no more prejudice Me for or against her by such
artificial categorizing than you could Have made Moliere dislikes Monsieur Jourdain by a lecture on the
Vanity and pretentiousness of that admirably bourgeois gentil- homme.9 It is clear from the above
mentioned lines that Shaw was challenging the basic conventions of character on the Victorian stage. In
other respects Shavian drama is, in Shaw’s own words, ―utterly unlike Ibsen in its stage methods and its
Socialist view of human misery.”10 In fact, Shaw ” wanted to bring in “reality”, and reality for him was
neither black, white, nor gray but all the colors of the rainbow.”11 In Shaw’s works the psychology of
the hero-and-villain are replaced with a tragic-comedy of the real elements. He does not adopt the
method to ignore the traditions of heroes and villains but to indicate that it is itself real—–as a
superstition. As such, reality arises from the interaction of such superstition with natural fact. If the main
distinction between Shaw’s characters, true to his whole theory of drama, is that between the vital
people and the mechanized people, ―there are a couple of other antitheses which cut across the vital
characters. These are the antithesis of male and female and the antithesis of the actual and the
ideal.”12 In September 1894, the reception of Arms and the Man was lukewarm.Its merit was not
recognized by the majority of the people. In the last part of the same year it was given at the Deutsches
Theater, Berlin, under the title Helden. In December 1894, the tide had turned for Bernard Shaw.
Instantly he became popular and was recognized as great dramatist. Arms and the Man belongs to the
group of “Pleasant Plays” which is a brilliant satirical comedy. It was ―received by some critics as an
attack upon the military ideal, and no doubt, that is involved.”13 Sergius is satirized chiefly as a pseudoidealist and that Raina, the woman of his choice, is obsessed with the same romantic ideas. Here, as
always, Shaw is ―aiming at the false social ideals which injure human life.”14 Here Shaw seems to make
fun of conventional picture of “hero”. On the contrary, Bluntschli is the true soldier, though he appears
as a muddy-booted mercenary, because he “strips war of its spacious decorative colors and shows it for
the grim business it is. He works for wage, does his duty, and wears unbecoming clothes”15 which is
based on reality. Shaw does not satirize romantic ideals bitterly rather genially. His intention is to bring a
positive change in society. Shaw discovered early the deceptions of society, and made them his special
targets. Shaw sets himself against this social alignment. He embraces Ibsenism because he ―sees in it
the exposure of ideals to the cold light of the day. The idealist hides from fact because he hates himself;
the realist sees in ideals ―only something to blind us, something to numb us, something to murder self
in us, something whereby, instead of resisting death, we can disarm it by committing suicide.”16 For
Shaw, blindness to reality is spiritual death. In a similar vein, ―the theme of reality and corrupting ideals
counts much in Shaw’s play, too. One has only to think of Candida, Bluntschli, Caesar, Undershaft, and
the like to realize that many Shavian heroes are realists warring genially against the idealists that
surrounds them.”17 The drama presents character in action. In other words, drama means ‘action’.
Most likely, Shaw has patterned Arms and the Man on Scribe’s most successful play, Bataille de Dames
but with a difference. In Shaw’s best plays we notice that the principle of reversal pervades. Such a play
is Arms and the Man. The ” idea of taking two couples and causing them to exchange partners is hardly
novel, and the little tale of the coat the portrait is Scribean in pattern.”18 But Shaw can justifiably plead
that this is no well-made play because the artifices of the plot are not what ultimately achieve the result.
The following lines bring out beautifully one of the decisive turns in the action: Raina. Captain Bluntschli!
Bluntschli. Yes? Raina. Do you mean what you said just now? Do you know what you said just now?
Blunstchli. I do. Raina. I! I!!!—How did you find me out?
With this last query, Raina passes from Sergius to Bluntschli forever. Here we witness the reversal of the
principle. There is nothing like the Scribean arrangement of incidents. Here Shaw sticks to words, words,
and only words which is a unique dramatic device. To Shaw, as pointed out by Eric Bentley, ―his
(Shaw’s) plays were all words just as Raphael’s paintings were all paint.”19 Though Shaw was playing
Scribe,s game, he proceeded to break the rules. Frankly speaking, In Arms and the Man, Bluntschli
conquers Raina’s heart by words and not by actions. His words work forcefully in a particular situation in
which the opposite was to be expected. They work more than a weapon. To look over Arms and the
Man ―with an eye to technique would be to conclude that what we have here is Scribe most subtly
interwoven with Shaw. Yet this formulation is inadequate, for who did the interweaving? There was a
Scribe in Shaw, and there was a counter Scribe in Shaw: what makes his works dramatic is the interaction of the two.”20 The ―passion and preoccupation of Scribe was the idea of climax whereas in
Bernard Shaw there was almost as great a predilection for anti-climax. It is the Shavian “effect” par
excellence; no other playwright has come near finding so many possibilities in it.”21 The bit which has
been quoted from Bluntschli and Raina is a suitable example. The Arms and the Man does not round off
the dual anti-climaxes. It is ―not the disenchantment of Raina and Sergius but the discovery that
Bluntschli, the realist, is actually an enchanted soul whom nothing will disenchant. He has destroyed
their romanticism but he is ―incurably romantic.”22 This is another point that is made in ―mere
words”—”mere words stuck on at the end”, if you wish and yet stuck on very well, for they are firmly
attached to that little tale of the coat and the photograph which gives the work its continuity and shape:
Bluntschli. — Yes: that’s the coat I mean…..Do you suppose I am the sort of fellow a young girl falls in
love with? Why, look at our ages! I’m thirty four: I don’t suppose the young lady is much have over
seventeen…All that adventure which was life or death to me was only a schoolgirl’s game to her… Would
a woman who took the affair seriously have sent me this and written on it: Raina, to her Chocolate
Cream Soldier, a Souvenir? Petkoff. That’s what I was looking for. How the deuce did it get there?
Bluntschli. I have put everything right, I hope, gracious young lady. Raina. I quite agree with your
account of yourself. You are a romantic idiot. Next time I hope you will know the difference between a
schoolgirl of seventeen and a woman of twenty three. In the above scene, as pointed out by Eric
Bentley, ―plot and theme reach completion together, and the play of thesis and antithesis ends in
synthesis.”23 Besides, the above lines clearly indicate the intentions of Shaw that, as a realist, he
wanted to set things right. Now let us talk about the form of the play. In Arms and the Man Shaw has
used bathos and not pathos. Firstly the officer appears to be heroic and later on he is laughed at by
everyone. While the curtain goes up, ” a man remembering his youth, and he should only reveal himself
as violent pork-butcher when someone interrupted him with an order for pork. This merely technical
originality is indicated in the very title of the play. The name itself is meant to be bathos; arms—-and the
man.”24 In Arms and the Man ―the bathos of form was strictly the incarnation of a strong satire in the
idea.”25 The play opens with an atmosphere of military melodrama; the dashing officer of cavalry going
off to death in an attitude, the lovely heroine left in tearful rapture; the brass band, the noise of guns
and the red fire. Bluntschli, the Swiss professional soldier, makes his entry here. He is a man with trade
though without country. He tells Raina, the army adoring heroine, frankly that she is a humbug; and she,
in a moment, agrees with him. By the end of the play the young lady Raina ―has lost all her military
illusions and admires this mercenary soldier not because he faces guns, but because he faces facts.”26
At length, Shaw, as a practitioner of realism, concludes Arms and the Man with realistic note.
Arms and the Man is a wonderful play by Bernard Shaw that reflects wonderfully the elements of
realism. In this play, Shaw attacks genially the romantic notions of war and love. He has adopted realistic
approach in depicting every day activities which were common those days. Here Shaw attacks the social
follies of society in order to bring a positive change for which he received criticism. Shaw rejects
romanticism in order to embrace realism. Finally, he succeeds in his attempt to exhibit the idea of the
realist trumping the idealist.
The script Arms and the Man:
George Bernard Shaw takes the title for this play from the opening line of
Virgil’s epic poem the “Aeneid,” which begins “Of arms and the man I sing.” Virgil
glorified war and the heroic feats of Aeneas on the battlefield. However, Shaw’s
purpose in this play is to attack the romantic notion of war by presenting a more
realistic depiction of war, devoid of the idea that such death and destruction
speaks to nobility. Still, Arms and the Man is not an anti-war drama, but rather a
satirical assault on those who would glorify the horrors of war.
Shaw develops an ironic contrast between two central characters. The
play begins with accounts of the glorious exploits of Major Sergius Saranoff, a
handsome young Bulgarian officer, in a daring cavalry raid, which turned the war
in favor of the Bulgarians over the Serbs. In contrast, Captain Bluntschli, a
professional soldier from Switzerland, acts like a coward. He climbs up to a
balcony to escape capture, he threatens a woman with a gun, and he carries
chocolates rather than cartridges because he claims the sweets are more useful
on the battlefield.
In the eyes of Raina Petkoff, the young romantic idealist who has bought
into the stories of battlefield heroism, Saranoff is her ideal hero. However, as the
play proceeds, we learn more about this raid and that despite its success, it was
a suicidal gesture that should have failed. Eventually Saranoff is going to end up
dead if he continues to engage in such ridiculous heroics. Meanwhile, we realize
that Bluntschli has no misconceptions about the stupidity of war and that his
actions have kept him alive.
Arms and the Man is an early play by Shaw, first performed in 1894, the
same year he wrote Mrs. Warren’s Profession. The ending is rather traditional
for comedies of the time, with all the confusion between the lovers finally getting
cleared up and everybody paired up to live happily ever after. The choice of a
young woman as the main character, who ultimately rejects her romantic ideals
to live in the real world, is perhaps significant because serving in the army and
going to war is not going to happen. Consequently, her views are not going to be
colored by questions of courage in terms of going to war herself. I also find it
interesting that this play understands the horrors of war given that it was the
horrors of World War I that generally killed the romantic notion of war in Britain.
From http://rainbowofsoul.wordpress.com/2013/09/01/arms-and-the-man-by-george-bernard-shawstudy-guide/