Джон Голсуорси
Plays : First Series
[MRS. GWYN is seen coming back. JOY springs into the tree. DICK quickly steals away. MRS. GWYN goes up to the chair and takes the scarf that she has come for, and is going again when JOY steals out to her.]
Mother!
[MRS. GWYN stands looking at her with her teeth set on her lower lip.]
Oh! Mother, it is n't true?
MRS. GWYN. [Very still.] What is n't true?
JOY. That you and he are —
[Searching her Mother's face, which is deadly still. In a whisper.]
Then it is true. Oh!
MRS. GWYN. That's enough, Joy! What I am is my affair – not yours – do you understand?
JOY. [Low and fierce.] Yes, I do.
MRS. GWYN. You don't. You're only a child.
JOY. [Passionately.] I understand that you've hurt [She stops.]
MRS. GWYN. Do you mean your Father?
JOY. [Bowing her head.] Yes, and – and me. [She covers her face.]
I'm – I'm ashamed.
MRS. GWYN. I brought you into the world, and you say that to me?
Have I been a bad mother to you?
JOY. [In a smothered voice.] Oh! Mother!
MRS. GWYN. Ashamed? Am I to live all my life like a dead woman because you're ashamed? Am I to live like the dead because you 're a child that knows nothing of life? Listen, Joy, you 'd better understand this once for all. Your Father has no right over me and he knows it. We 've been hateful to each other for years. Can you understand that? Don't cover your face like a child – look at me.
[Joy drops her hands, and lifts her face. MRS. GWYN looks back at her, her lips are quivering; she goes on speaking with stammering rapidity.]
D' you think – because I suffered when you were born and because I 've suffered since with every ache you ever had, that that gives you the right to dictate to me now? [In a dead voice.] I've been unhappy enough and I shall be unhappy enough in the time to come. [Meeting the hard wonder in Joy's face.] Oh! you untouched things, you're as hard and cold as iron!
JOY. I would do anything for you, Mother.
MRS. GWYN. Except – let me live, Joy. That's the only thing you won't do for me, I quite understand.
JOY. Oh! Mother, you don't understand – I want you so; and I seem to be nothing to you now.
MRS. GWYN. Nothing to me? [She smiles.]
JOY. Mother, darling, if you're so unhappy let's forget it all, let's go away and I 'll be everything to you, I promise.
MRS. GWYN. [With the ghost of a laugh.] Ah, Joy!
JOY. I would try so hard.
MRS. GWYN. [With the same quivering smile.] My darling, I know you would, until you fell in love yourself.
JOY. Oh, Mother, I wouldn't, I never would, I swear it.
MRS. GWYN. There has never been a woman, joy, that did not fall in love.
JOY. [In a despairing whisper.] But it 's wrong of you it's wicked!
MRS. GWYN. If it's wicked, I shall pay for it, not you!
JOY. But I want to save you, Mother!
MRS. GWYN. Save me? [Breaking into laughter.]
JOY. I can't bear it that you – if you 'll only – I'll never leave you. You think I don't know what I 'm saying, but I do, because even now I – I half love somebody. Oh, Mother! [Pressing her breast.] I feel – I feel so awful – as if everybody knew.
MRS. GWYN. You think I'm a monster to hurt you. Ah! yes! You'll understand better some day.
JOY. [In a sudden outburst of excited fear.] I won't believe it – I – I – can't – you're deserting me, Mother.
MRS. GWYN. Oh, you untouched things! You —
[Joy' looks up suddenly, sees her face, and sinks down on her knees.]
JOY. Mother – it 's for me!
GWYN. Ask for my life, JOY – don't be afraid.
[Joy turns her face away. MRS. GWYN bends suddenly and touches her daughter's hair; JOY shrinks from that touch.]
[Recoiling as though she had been stung.] I forgot – I 'm deserting you.
[And swiftly without looking back she goes away. Joy, left alone under the hollow tree, crouches lower, and her shoulders shake. Here DICK finds her, when he hears no longer any sound o f voices. He falls on his knees beside her.]
DICK. Oh! Joy; dear, don't cry. It's so dreadful to see you! I 'd do anything not to see you cry! Say something.
[Joy is still for a moment, then the shaking of the shoulders begins again.]
Joy, darling! It's so awful, you 'll make yourself ill, and it is n't worth it, really. I 'd do anything to save you pain – won't you stop just for a minute?
[Joy is still again.]
Nothing in the world 's worth your crying, Joy. Give me just a little look!
JOY. [Looking; in a smothered voice.] Don't!
DICK. You do look so sweet! Oh, Joy, I'll comfort you, I'll take it all on myself. I know all about it.
[Joy gives a sobbing laugh]
I do. I 've had trouble too, I swear I have. It gets better, it does really.
JOY. You don't know – it's – it's —
DICK. Don't think about it! No, no, no! I know exactly what it's like. [He strokes her arm.]
JOY. [Shrinking, in a whisper.] You mustn't.
[The music of a waltz is heard again.]
DICK. Look here, joy! It's no good, we must talk it over calmly.
JOY. You don't see! It's the – it 's the disgrace —
DICK. Oh! as to disgrace – she's your Mother, whatever she does; I'd like to see anybody say anything about her – [viciously] – I'd punch his head.
JOY. [Gulping her tears.] That does n't help.
DICK. But if she doesn't love your Father —
JOY. But she's married to him!
DICK. [Hastily.] Yes, of course, I know, marriage is awfully important; but a man understands these things.
[Joy looks at him. Seeing the impression he has made, he tries again.]
I mean, he understands better than a woman. I've often argued about moral questions with men up at Oxford.
JOY. [Catching at a straw.] But there's nothing to argue about.
DICK. [Hastily.] Of course, I believe in morals.
[They stare solemnly at each other.]
Some men don't. But I can't help seeing marriage is awfully important.
JOY. [Solemnly.] It's sacred.
DICK. Yes, I know, but there must be exceptions, Joy.
Joy. [Losing herself a little in the stress of this discussion.]
How can there be exceptions if a thing 's sacred?
DICK. [Earnestly.] All rules have exceptions; that's true, you know; it's a proverb.
JOY. It can't be true about marriage – how can it when – ?
DICK. [With intense earnestness.] But look here, Joy, I know a really clever man – an author. He says that if marriage is a failure people ought to be perfectly free; it isn't everybody who believes that marriage is everything. Of course, I believe it 's sacred, but if it's a failure, I do think it seems awful – don't you?
JOY. I don't know – yes – if – [Suddenly] But it's my own Mother!
DICK. [Gravely.] I know, of course. I can't expect you to see it in your own case like this. [With desperation.] But look here, Joy, this'll show you! If a person loves a person, they have to decide, have n't they? Well, then, you see, that 's what your Mother's done.
JOY. But that does n't show me anything!
DICK. But it does. The thing is to look at it as if it was n't yourself. If it had been you and me in love, Joy, and it was wrong, like them, of course [ruefully] I know you'd have decided right. [Fiercely.] But I swear I should have decided wrong. [Triumphantly.] That 's why I feel I understand your Mother.
JOY. [Brushing her sleeve across her eyes.] Oh, Dick, you are so sweet – and – and – funny!
DICK. [Sliding his arm about her.] I love you, Joy, that 's why, and I 'll love you till you don't feel it any more. I will. I'll love you all day and every day; you shan't miss anything, I swear it. It 's such a beautiful night – it 's on purpose. Look' [JOY looks; he looks at her.] But it 's not so beautiful as you.
JOY. [Bending her head.] You mustn't. I don't know – what's coming?
DICK. [Sidling closer.] Are n't your knees tired, darling? I – I can't get near you properly.
JOY. [With a sob.] Oh! Dick, you are a funny – comfort!
DICK. We'll stick together, Joy, always; nothing'll matter then.
[They struggle to their feet-the waltz sounds louder.]
You're missing it all! I can't bear you to miss the dancing. It seems so queer! Couldn't we? Just a little turn?
JOY. No, no?
DICK. Oh! try!
[He takes her gently by the waist, she shrinks back.]
JOY. [Brokenly.] No-no! Oh! Dick-to-morrow 'll be so awful.
DICK. To-morrow shan't hurt you, Joy; nothing shall ever hurt you again.
[She looks at him, and her face changes; suddenly she buries it against his shoulder.]
[They stand so just a moment in the moon light; then turning to the river move slowly out of sight. Again the hollow tree is left alone. The music of the waltz has stopped. The voices of MISS BEECH and the COLONEL are heard approaching from the house. They appear in the opening of the wall. The COLONEL carries a pair of field glasses with which to look at the Moon.]
COLONEL. Charming to see Molly dance with Lever, their steps go so well together! I can always tell when a woman's enjoying herself, Peachey.
MISS BEECH. [Sharply.] Can you? You're very clever.
COLONEL. Wonderful, that moon! I'm going to have a look at her! Splendid glasses these, Peachy [he screws them out], not a better pair in England. I remember in Burmah with these glasses I used to be able to tell a man from a woman at two miles and a quarter. And that's no joke, I can tell you. [But on his way to the moon, he has taken a survey of the earth to the right along the river. In a low but excited voice] I say, I say – is it one of the maids – the baggage! Why! It's Dick! By George, she's got her hair down, Peachey! It's Joy!
[MISS BEECH goes to look. He makes as though to hand the glasses to her, but puts them to his own eyes instead – excitedly.]
It is! What about her headache? By George, they're kissing. I say, Peachey! I shall have to tell Nell!
MISS BEECH. Are you sure they're kissing? Well, that's some comfort.
COLONEL. They're at the stile now. Oughtn't I to stop them, eh? [He stands on tiptoe.] We must n't spy on them, dash it all. [He drops the glasses.] They're out of sight now.
MISS BEECH. [To herself.] He said he wouldn't let her.
COLONEL. What! have you been encouraging them!
MISS BEECH. Don't be in such a hurry!
[She moves towards the hollow tree.]
COLONEL. [Abstractedly.] By George, Peachey, to think that Nell and I were once – Poor Nell! I remember just such a night as this —
[He stops, and stares before him, sighing.]
MISS BEECH, [Impressively.] It's a comfort she's got that good young man. She's found out that her mother and this Mr. Lever are – you know.
COLONEL. [Losing all traces of his fussiness, and drawing himself up as though he were on parade.] You tell me that my niece?
MISS BEECH. Out of her own mouth!
COLONEL. [Bowing his head.] I never would have believed she'd have forgotten herself.
MISS BEECH. [Very solemnly.] Ah, my dear! We're all the same; we're all as hollow as that tree! When it's ourselves it's always a special case!
[The COLONEL makes a movement of distress, and Miss BEECH goes to him.]
Don't you take it so to heart, my dear!
[A silence.]
COLONEL. [Shaking his head.] I couldn't have believed Molly would forget that child.
MISS BEECH. [Sadly.] They must go their own ways, poor things! She can't put herself in the child's place, and the child can't put herself in Molly's. A woman and a girl – there's the tree of life between them!
COLONEL. [Staring into the tree to see indeed if that were the tree alluded to.] It's a grief to me, Peachey, it's a grief! [He sinks into a chair, stroking his long moustaches. Then to avenge his hurt.] Shan't tell Nell – dashed if I do anything to make the trouble worse!
MISS BEECH. [Nodding.] There's suffering enough, without adding to it with our trumpery judgments! If only things would last between them!
COLONEL. [Fiercely.] Last! By George, they'd better —
[He stops, and looking up with a queer sorry look.]
I say, Peachey Life's very funny!
MISS BEECH. Men and women are! [Touching his forehead tenderly.] There, there – take care of your poor, dear head! Tsst! The blessed innocents!
[She pulls the COLONEL'S sleeve. They slip away towards the house, as JOY and DICK come back. They are still linked together, and stop by the hollow tree.]
JOY. [In a whisper.] Dick, is love always like this?
DICK. [Putting his arms around her, with conviction.] It's never been like this before. It's you and me!
[He kisses her on the lips.]
The curtain falls.
STRIFE
A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS
PERSONS OF THE PLAY
JOHN ANTHONY, Chairman of the Trenartha Tin Plate Works
EDGAR ANTHONY, his Son
FREDERIC H. WILDER, |
WILLIAM SCANTLEBURY,| Directors Of the same
OLIVER WANKLIN, |
HENRY TENCH, Secretary of the same
FRANCIS UNDERWOOD, C.E., Manager of the same
SIMON HARNESS, a Trades Union official
DAVID ROBERTS, |
JAMES GREEN, |
JOHN BULGIN, | the workmen's committee
HENRY THOMAS, |
GEORGE ROUS, |
HENRY ROUS, |
LEWIS, |
JAGO, |
EVANS, | workman at the Trenartha Tin Plate Works
A BLACKSMITH, |
DAVIES, |
A RED-HAIRED YOUTH. |
BROWN |
FROST, valet to John Anthony
ENID UNDERWOOD, Wife of Francis Underwood, daughter of John Anthony
ANNIE ROBERTS, wife of David Roberts
MADGE THOMAS, daughter of Henry Thomas
MRS. ROUS, mother of George and Henry Rous
MRS. BULGIN, wife of John Bulgin
MRS. YEO, wife of a workman
A PARLOURMAID to the Underwoods
JAN, Madge's brother, a boy of ten
A CROWD OF MEN ON STRIKE
ACT I. The dining-room of the Manager's house
ACT II, SCENE I. The kitchen of the Roberts's cottage near the works. SCENE II. A space outside the works.
ACT III. The drawing-room of the Manager's house.
The action takes place on February 7th between the hours of noon and six in the afternoon, close to the Trenartha Tin Plate Works, on the borders of England and Wales, where a strike has been in progress throughout the winter.
ACT I
It is noon. In the Underwoods' dining-room a bright fire is burning. On one side of the fireplace are double-doors leading to the drawing-room, on the other side a door leading to the hall. In the centre of the room a long dining-table without a cloth is set out as a Board table. At the head of it, in the Chairman's seat, sits JOHN ANTHONY, an old man, big, clean-shaven, and high-coloured, with thick white hair, and thick dark eyebrows. His movements are rather slow and feeble, but his eyes are very much alive. There is a glass of water by his side. On his right sits his son EDGAR, an earnest-looking man of thirty, reading a newspaper. Next him WANKLIN, a man with jutting eyebrows, and silver-streaked light hair, is bending over transfer papers. TENCH, the Secretary, a short and rather humble, nervous man, with side whiskers, stands helping him. On WANKLIN'S right sits UNDERWOOD, the Manager, a quiet man, with along, stiff jaw, and steady eyes. Back to the fire is SCANTLEBURY, a very large, pale, sleepy man, with grey hair, rather bald. Between him and the Chairman are two empty chairs.
WILDER. [Who is lean, cadaverous, and complaining, with drooping grey moustaches, stands before the fire.] I say, this fire's the devil! Can I have a screen, Tench?
SCANTLEBURY. A screen, ah!
TENCH. Certainly, Mr. Wilder. [He looks at UNDERWOOD.] That is – perhaps the Manager – perhaps Mr. Underwood —
SCANTLEBURY. These fireplaces of yours, Underwood —
UNDERWOOD. [Roused from studying some papers.] A screen? Rather! I'm sorry. [He goes to the door with a little smile.] We're not accustomed to complaints of too much fire down here just now.
[He speaks as though he holds a pipe between his teeth, slowly, ironically.]
WILDER. [In an injured voice.] You mean the men. H'm!
[UNDERWOOD goes out.]
SCANTLEBURY. Poor devils!
WILDER. It's their own fault, Scantlebury.
EDGAR. [Holding out his paper.] There's great distress among them, according to the Trenartha News.
WILDER. Oh, that rag! Give it to Wanklin. Suit his Radical views. They call us monsters, I suppose. The editor of that rubbish ought to be shot.
EDGAR. [Reading.] "If the Board of worthy gentlemen who control the Trenartha Tin Plate Works from their arm-chairs in London would condescend to come and see for themselves the conditions prevailing amongst their work-people during this strike – "
WILDER. Well, we have come.
EDGAR. [Continuing.] "We cannot believe that even their leg-of-mutton hearts would remain untouched."
[WANKLIN takes the paper from him.]
WILDER. Ruffian! I remember that fellow when he had n't a penny to his name; little snivel of a chap that's made his way by black-guarding everybody who takes a different view to himself.
[ANTHONY says something that is not heard.]
WILDER. What does your father say?
EDGAR. He says "The kettle and the pot."
WILDER. H'm!
[He sits down next to SCANTLEBURY.]
SCANTLEBURY. [Blowing out his cheeks.] I shall boil if I don't get that screen.
[UNDERWOOD and ENID enter with a screen, which they place before the fire. ENID is tall; she has a small, decided face, and is twenty-eight years old.]
ENID. Put it closer, Frank. Will that do, Mr. Wilder? It's the highest we've got.
WILDER. Thanks, capitally.
SCANTLEBURY. [Turning, with a sigh of pleasure.] Ah! Merci, Madame!
ENID. Is there anything else you want, Father? [ANTHONY shakes his head.] Edgar – anything?
EDGAR. You might give me a "J" nib, old girl.
ENID. There are some down there by Mr. Scantlebury.
SCANTLEBURY. [Handing a little box of nibs.] Ah! your brother uses "J's." What does the manager use? [With expansive politeness.]
What does your husband use, Mrs. Underwood?
UNDERWOOD. A quill!
SCANTLEBURY. The homely product of the goose. [He holds out quills.]
UNDERWOOD. [Drily.] Thanks, if you can spare me one. [He takes a quill.] What about lunch, Enid?
ENID. [Stopping at the double-doors and looking back.] We're going to have lunch here, in the drawing-room, so you need n't hurry with your meeting.
[WANKLIN and WILDER bow, and she goes out.]
SCANTLEBURY. [Rousing himself, suddenly.] Ah! Lunch! That hotel – Dreadful! Did you try the whitebait last night? Fried fat!
WILDER. Past twelve! Are n't you going to read the minutes, Tench?
TENCH. [Looking for the CHAIRMAN'S assent, reads in a rapid and monotonous voice.] "At a Board Meeting held the 31st of January at the Company's Offices, 512, Cannon Street, E.C. Present – Mr. Anthony in the chair, Messrs. F. H. Wilder, William Scantlebury, Oliver Wanklin, and Edgar Anthony. Read letters from the Manager dated January 20th, 23d, 25th, 28th, relative to the strike at the Company's Works. Read letters to the Manager of January 21st, 24th, 26th, 29th. Read letter from Mr. Simon Harness, of the Central Union, asking for an interview with the Board. Read letter from the Men's Committee, signed David Roberts, James Green, John Bulgin, Henry Thomas, George Rous, desiring conference with the Board; and it was resolved that a special Board Meeting be called for February 7th at the house of the Manager, for the purpose of discussing the situation with Mr. Simon Harness and the Men's Committee on the spot. Passed twelve transfers, signed and sealed nine certificates and one balance certificate."
[He pushes the book over to the CHAIRMAN.]
ANTHONY. [With a heavy sigh.] If it's your pleasure, sign the same.
[He signs, moving the pen with difficulty. ]
WANKLIN. What's the Union's game, Tench? They have n't made up their split with the men. What does Harness want this interview for?
TENCH. Hoping we shall come to a compromise, I think, sir; he's having a meeting with the men this afternoon.
WILDER. Harness! Ah! He's one of those cold-blooded, cool-headed chaps. I distrust them. I don't know that we didn't make a mistake to come down. What time'll the men be here?
UNDERWOOD. Any time now.
WILDER. Well, if we're not ready, they'll have to wait – won't do them any harm to cool their heels a bit.
SCANTLEBURY. [Slowly.] Poor devils! It's snowing. What weather!
UNDERWOOD. [With meaning slowness.] This house'll be the warmest place they've been in this winter.
WILDER. Well, I hope we're going to settle this business in time for me to catch the 6.30. I've got to take my wife to Spain to-morrow. [Chattily.] My old father had a strike at his works in '69; just such a February as this. They wanted to shoot him.
WANKLIN. What! In the close season?
WILDER. By George, there was no close season for employers then! He used to go down to his office with a pistol in his pocket.
SCANTLEBURY. [Faintly alarmed.] Not seriously?
WILDER. [With finality.] Ended in his shootin' one of 'em in the legs.
SCANTLEBURY. [Unavoidably feeling his thigh.] No? Which?
ANTHONY. [Lifting the agenda paper.] To consider the policy of the Board in relation to the strike. [There is a silence.]
WILDER. It's this infernal three-cornered duel – the Union, the men, and ourselves.
WANKLIN. We need n't consider the Union.
WILDER. It's my experience that you've always got to, consider the Union, confound them! If the Union were going to withdraw their support from the men, as they've done, why did they ever allow them to strike at all?
EDGAR. We've had that over a dozen times.
WILDER. Well, I've never understood it! It's beyond me. They talk of the engineers' and furnace-men's demands being excessive – so they are – but that's not enough to make the Union withdraw their support. What's behind it?
UNDERWOOD. Fear of strikes at Harper's and Tinewell's.
WILDER. [With triumph.] Afraid of other strikes – now, that's a reason! Why could n't we have been told that before?
UNDERWOOD. You were.
TENCH. You were absent from the Board that day, sir.
SCANTLEBURY. The men must have seen they had no chance when the Union gave them up. It's madness.
UNDERWOOD. It's Roberts!
WILDER. Just our luck, the men finding a fanatical firebrand like Roberts for leader. [A pause.]
WANKLIN. [Looking at ANTHONY.] Well?
WILDER. [Breaking in fussily.] It's a regular mess. I don't like the position we're in; I don't like it; I've said so for a long time.
[Looking at WANKLIN.] When Wanklin and I came down here before
Christmas it looked as if the men must collapse. You thought so too, Underwood.
UNDERWOOD. Yes.
WILDER. Well, they haven't! Here we are, going from bad to worse losing our customers – shares going down!
SCANTLEBURY. [Shaking his head.] M'm! M'm!
WANKLIN. What loss have we made by this strike, Tench?
TENCH. Over fifty thousand, sir!
SCANTLEBURY, [Pained.] You don't say!
WILDER. We shall never got it back.
TENCH. No, sir.
WILDER. Who'd have supposed the men were going to stick out like this – nobody suggested that. [Looking angrily at TENCH.]
SCANTLEBURY. [Shaking his head.] I've never liked a fight – never shall.
ANTHONY. No surrender! [All look at him.]
WILDER. Who wants to surrender? [ANTHONY looks at him.] I – I want to act reasonably. When the men sent Roberts up to the Board in December – then was the time. We ought to have humoured him; instead of that the Chairman – [Dropping his eyes before ANTHONY'S] – er – we snapped his head off. We could have got them in then by a little tact.
ANTHONY. No compromise!
WILDER. There we are! This strike's been going on now since October, and as far as I can see it may last another six months.
Pretty mess we shall be in by then. The only comfort is, the men'll be in a worse!
EDGAR. [To UNDERWOOD.] What sort of state are they really in, Frank?
UNDERWOOD. [Without expression.] Damnable!
WILDER. Well, who on earth would have thought they'd have held on like this without support!
UNDERWOOD. Those who know them.
WILDER. I defy any one to know them! And what about tin? Price going up daily. When we do get started we shall have to work off our contracts at the top of the market.
WANKLIN. What do you say to that, Chairman?
ANTHONY. Can't be helped!
WILDER. Shan't pay a dividend till goodness knows when!
SCANTLEBURY. [With emphasis.] We ought to think of the shareholders. [Turning heavily.] Chairman, I say we ought to think of the shareholders. [ANTHONY mutters.]
SCANTLEBURY. What's that?
TENCH. The Chairman says he is thinking of you, sir.
SCANTLEBURY. [Sinking back into torpor.] Cynic!
WILDER. It's past a joke. I don't want to go without a dividend for years if the Chairman does. We can't go on playing ducks and drakes with the Company's prosperity.
EDGAR. [Rather ashamedly.] I think we ought to consider the men.
[All but ANTHONY fidget in their seats.]
SCANTLEBURY. [With a sigh.] We must n't think of our private feelings, young man. That'll never do.
EDGAR. [Ironically.] I'm not thinking of our feelings. I'm thinking of the men's.
WILDER. As to that – we're men of business.
WANKLIN. That is the little trouble.
EDGAR. There's no necessity for pushing things so far in the face of all this suffering – it's – it's cruel.
[No one speaks, as though EDGAR had uncovered something whose existence no man prizing his self-respect could afford to recognise.]
WANKLIN. [With an ironical smile.] I'm afraid we must n't base our policy on luxuries like sentiment.
EDGAR. I detest this state of things.
ANTHONY. We did n't seek the quarrel.
EDGAR. I know that sir, but surely we've gone far enough.
ANTHONY. No. [All look at one another.]
WANKLIN. Luxuries apart, Chairman, we must look out what we're doing.
ANTHONY. Give way to the men once and there'll be no end to it.
WANKLIN. I quite agree, but —
[ANTHONY Shakes his head]
You make it a question of bedrock principle?
[ANTHONY nods.]
Luxuries again, Chairman! The shares are below par.
WILDER. Yes, and they'll drop to a half when we pass the next dividend.
SCANTLEBURY. [With alarm.] Come, come! Not so bad as that.
WILDER. [Grimly.] You'll see! [Craning forward to catch ANTHONY'S speech.] I didn't catch —
TENCH. [Hesitating.] The Chairman says, sir, "Fais que – que – devra."
EDGAR. [Sharply.] My father says: "Do what we ought – and let things rip."
WILDER. Tcha!
SCANTLEBURY. [Throwing up his hands.] The Chairman's a Stoic – I always said the Chairman was a Stoic.
WILDER. Much good that'll do us.
WANKLIN. [Suavely.] Seriously, Chairman, are you going to let the ship sink under you, for the sake of – a principle?
ANTHONY. She won't sink.
SCANTLEBURY. [With alarm.] Not while I'm on the Board I hope.
ANTHONY. [With a twinkle.] Better rat, Scantlebury.
SCANTLEBURY. What a man!
ANTHONY. I've always fought them; I've never been beaten yet.
WANKLIN. We're with you in theory, Chairman. But we're not all made of cast-iron.
ANTHONY. We've only to hold on.
WILDER. [Rising and going to the fire.] And go to the devil as fast as we can!
ANTHONY. Better go to the devil than give in!
WILDER. [Fretfully.] That may suit you, sir, but it does n't suit me, or any one else I should think.
[ANTHONY looks him in the face-a silence.]
EDGAR. I don't see how we can get over it that to go on like this means starvation to the men's wives and families.
[WILDER turns abruptly to the fire, and SCANTLEBURY puts out a hand to push the idea away.]
WANKLIN. I'm afraid again that sounds a little sentimental.
EDGAR. Men of business are excused from decency, you think?
WILDER. Nobody's more sorry for the men than I am, but if they [lashing himself] choose to be such a pig-headed lot, it's nothing to do with us; we've quite enough on our hands to think of ourselves and the shareholders.
EDGAR. [Irritably.] It won't kill the shareholders to miss a dividend or two; I don't see that that's reason enough for knuckling under.
SCANTLEBURY. [With grave discomfort.] You talk very lightly of your dividends, young man; I don't know where we are.
WILDER. There's only one sound way of looking at it. We can't go on ruining ourselves with this strike.
ANTHONY. No caving in!
SCANTLEBURY. [With a gesture of despair.] Look at him!
[ANTHONY'S leaning back in his chair. They do look at him.]
WILDER. [Returning to his seat.] Well, all I can say is, if that's the Chairman's view, I don't know what we've come down here for.
ANTHONY. To tell the men that we've got nothing for them —
[Grimly.] They won't believe it till they hear it spoken in plain English.
WILDER. H'm! Shouldn't be a bit surprised if that brute Roberts had n't got us down here with the very same idea. I hate a man with a grievance.
EDGAR. [Resentfully.] We didn't pay him enough for his discovery.
I always said that at the time.
WILDER. We paid him five hundred and a bonus of two hundred three years later. If that's not enough! What does he want, for goodness' sake?
TENCH. [Complainingly.] Company made a hundred thousand out of his brains, and paid him seven hundred – that's the way he goes on, sir.
WILDER. The man's a rank agitator! Look here, I hate the Unions. But now we've got Harness here let's get him to settle the whole thing.
ANTHONY. No! [Again they look at him.]
UNDERWOOD. Roberts won't let the men assent to that.
SCANTLEBURY. Fanatic! Fanatic!
WILDER. [Looking at ANTHONY.] And not the only one! [FROST enters from the hall.]
FROST. [To ANTHONY.] Mr. Harness from the Union, waiting, sir. The men are here too, sir.
[ANTHONY nods. UNDERWOOD goes to the door, returning with HARNESS, a pale, clean-shaven man with hollow cheeks, quick eyes, and lantern jaw – FROST has retired.]
UNDERWOOD. [Pointing to TENCH'S chair.] Sit there next the
Chairman, Harness, won't you?
[At HARNESS'S appearance, the Board have drawn together, as it were, and turned a little to him, like cattle at a dog.]
HARNESS. [With a sharp look round, and a bow.] Thanks! [He sits – his accent is slightly nasal.] Well, gentlemen, we're going to do business at last, I hope.
WILDER. Depends on what you call business, Harness. Why don't you make the men come in?
HARNESS. [Sardonically.] The men are far more in the right than you are. The question with us is whether we shan't begin to support them again.
[He ignores them all, except ANTHONY, to whom he turns in speaking.]
ANTHONY. Support them if you like; we'll put in free labour and have done with it.
HARNESS. That won't do, Mr. Anthony. You can't get free labour, and you know it.
ANTHONY. We shall see that.
HARNESS. I'm quite frank with you. We were forced to withhold our support from your men because some of their demands are in excess of current rates. I expect to make them withdraw those demands to-day: if they do, take it straight from me, gentlemen, we shall back them again at once. Now, I want to see something fixed upon before I go back to-night. Can't we have done with this old-fashioned tug-of-war business? What good's it doing you? Why don't you recognise once for all that these people are men like yourselves, and want what's good for them just as you want what's good for you [Bitterly.] Your motor-cars, and champagne, and eight-course dinners.