John Galsworthy

“ ANTHONY. It's the tone the men use. Remains to be seen which can hold out longest—they without us, or we without them.
HARNESS. As business men, I wonder you're not ashamed of this waste of force, gentlemen. You know what it'll all end in.
ANTHONY. What?
HARNESS. Compromise—it always does.
SCANTLEBURY. Can't you persuade the men that their interests are the same as ours?
HARNESS. [Turning, ironically.] I could persuade them of that, sir, if they were.
WILDER. Come, Harness, you're a clever man, you don't believe all the Socialistic claptrap that's talked nowadays. ”

“ 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. ”

“ MISS BEECH. [Rocking hey body.] Poor things! Poor things!
MRS. GWYN. Are you still fond of me?
MISS BEECH. Yes, yes, my dear, of course I am.
MRS. GWYN. In spite of my-wickedness?
[She laughs.]
MISS BEECH. Who am I to tell what's wicked and what is n't? God knows you're both like daughters to me!
MRS. GWYN. [Abruptly.] I can't.
MISS BEECH. Molly.
MRS. GWYN. You don't know what you're asking.
MISS BEECH. If I could save you suffering, my dear, I would. I hate suffering, if it 's only a fly, I hate it.
MRS. GWYN. [Turning away from her.] Life is n't fair. Peachey, go in and leave me alone. ”

“ SCANTLEBURY. For God's sake, sir, don't use that word at a—at a
Board meeting; it's—it's monstrous.
EDGAR. I will use it, Mr. Scantlebury.
SCANTLEBURY. Then I shall not listen to you. I shall not listen!
It's painful to me.
[He covers his ears.]
WANKLIN. None of us are opposed to a settlement, except your Father.
EDGAR. I'm certain that if the shareholders knew——
WANKLIN. I don't think you'll find their imaginations are any better than ours. Because a woman happens to have a weak heart——
EDGAR. A struggle like this finds out the weak spots in everybody. Any child knows that. ”

“ I don't care so much about the men, but I'd sooner resign my position on the Board than go on starving women in this way.
[All except ANTHONY are now upon their feet, ANTHONY sits
grasping the arms of his chair and staring at his son.]
SCANTLEBURY. I don't—I don't like the way you're putting it, young sir.
WANKLIN. You're rather overshooting the mark.
WILDER. I should think so indeed!
EDGAR. [Losing control.] It's no use blinking things! If you want to have the death of women on your hands—I don't!
SCANTLEBURY. Now, now, young man!
WILDER. On our hands? Not on mine, I won't have it! ”

“ ROBERTS. That's right, sir. We have another God down here; I doubt He is rather different to Mr. Wilder's. Ask Henry Thomas; he will tell you whether his God and Mr. Wilder's are the same.
[THOMAS lifts his hand, and cranes his head as though to prophesy.]
WANKLIN. For goodness' sake, let 's keep to the point, Roberts.
ROBERTS. I rather think it is the point, Mr. Wanklin. If you can get the God of Capital to walk through the streets of Labour, and pay attention to what he sees, you're a brighter man than I take you for, for all that you're a Radical.
ANTHONY. Attend to me, Roberts! ”

“ MRS. GWYN. [After staring at her, bitterly.] When day after day and night after night you've thought of nothing but how to keep them both, you might a little want to prove that it was possible, mightn't you? But you don't understand—how should you? You've never been a mother! [And fiercely.] You've never had a lov——
[MISS BEECH raises her face-it is all puckered.]
[Impulsively.] Oh, I did n't mean that, Peachey!
MISS BEECH. All right, my dear.
MRS. GWYN. I'm so dragged in two! [She sinks into a chair.] I knew it must come.
MISS BEECH. Does she know everything, Molly? ”

“ JOY. Look what she's got behind her, sly old thing!
MISS BEECH. Oh! dear!
JOY. Dance with her, Dick!
MISS BEECH. If he dare!
JOY. Dance with her, or I won't dance with you to-night.
[She whistles a waltz.]
DICK. [Desperately.] Come on then, Peachey. We must.
JOY. Dance, dance!
[DICK seizes Miss BEECH by the waist. She drops the paint pot.
They revolve.] [Convulsed.]
Oh, Peachey, Oh!
[Miss BEECH is dropped upon the rustic seat. DICK seizes joy's hands and drags her up.]
No, no! I won't!
MISS BEECH. [Panting.] Dance, dance with the poor young man! [She moves her hands.] ”

“ 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! ”

“ 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. ”

“ MRS. HOPE. Rubbish, Tom, I won't have you turned out, that's flat.
He can have Joy's room, and she can sleep with the earwigs.
JOY. [From her hiding-place upon a lower branch of the hollow tree.]
I won't.
[MRS. HOPE and the COLONEL jump.]
COLONEL. God bless my soul!
MRS. HOPE. You wretched girl! I told you never to climb that tree again. Did you know, Peachey? [Miss BEECH smiles.] She's always up there, spoiling all her frocks. Come down now, Joy; there's a good child!
JOY. I don't want to sleep with earwigs, Aunt Nell.
MISS BEECH. I'll sleep with the poor creatures. ”

“ ANTHONY. [Grimly.] And you're weak-kneed enough to teach them how to use it! It seems the fashion nowadays for men to take their enemy's side. I have not learnt that art. Is it my fault that they quarrelled with their Union too?
EDGAR. There is such a thing as Mercy.
ANTHONY. And justice comes before it.
EDGAR. What seems just to one man, sir, is injustice to another.
ANTHONY. [With suppressed passion.] You accuse me of injustice—of what amounts to inhumanity—of cruelty?
[EDGAR makes a gesture of horror—a general frightened
movement.] ”

“ MISS BEECH. [Unmoved.] Don't hurt yourself!
[Joy drops on the rustic seat and rubs her shin. Told you so!]
[She hunts in a little bag for plaster.]
Let's see!
JOY. [Seeing the worms.] Ugh!
MISS BEECH. What's the matter with the poor creatures?
JOY. They're so wriggly!
[She backs away and sits down in the swing. She is just seventeen, light and slim, brown-haired, fresh-coloured, and grey-eyed; her white frock reaches to her ankles, she wears a sunbonnet.] Peachey, how long were you Mother's governess.
MISS BEECH. Five years.
JOY. Was she as bad to teach as me?
MISS BEECH. Worse! ”

“ ANTHONY, who stares hard at his son.]
SCANTLEBURY. You don't suggest that we could have helped the poor thing?
WILDER. [Flustered.] The woman was in bad health. Nobody can say there's any responsibility on us. At least—not on me.
EDGAR. [Hotly.] I say that we are responsible.
ANTHONY. War is war!
EDGAR. Not on women!
WANKLIN. It not infrequently happens that women are the greatest sufferers.
EDGAR. If we knew that, all the more responsibility rests on us.
ANTHONY. This is no matter for amateurs.
EDGAR. Call me what you like, sir. ”

“ ANTHONY. No old man can afford to listen to old women.
ENID. But you have done enough, even if it really is such a matter of principle with you.
ANTHONY. You think so?
ENID. Don't Dad! [Her face works.] You—you might think of us!
ANTHONY. I am.
ENID. It'll break you down.
ANTHONY. [Slowly.] My dear, I am not going to funk; on that you may rely.
[Re-enter TENCH with papers; he glances at them, then plucking
up courage.]
TENCH. Beg pardon, Madam, I think I'd rather see these papers were disposed of before I get my lunch. ”

“ ANTHONY. I do.
[WILDER at the fire makes an emphatic movement of disgust.]
ROBERTS. [Noting it, with dry intensity.] Ye best know whether the condition of the Company is any better than the condition of the men. [Scanning the Directors' faces.] Ye best know whether ye can afford your tyranny—but this I tell ye: If ye think the men will give way the least part of an inch, ye're making the worst mistake ye ever made. [He fixes his eyes on SCANTLEBURY.] Ye think because the Union is not supporting us—more shame to it!—that we'll be coming on our knees to you one fine morning. ”

“ MISS BEECH. Well, it was hollow, and you broke your principles!
COLONEL. Hollow yourself, Peachey; you're as bad as any one!
MISS BEECH [With devilry.] Well, I know that! [She turns to MRS.
GWYN.] He should have had it out! Shouldn't he, Molly?
MRS. GWYN. I—don't—judge for other people.
[She gets up suddenly, as though deprived of air.]
COLONEL. [Alarmed.] Hallo, Molly! Are n't you feeling the thing, old girl?
MISS BEECH. Let her get some air, poor creature!
COLONEL. [Who follows anxiously.] Your Aunt's got some first-rate sal volatile.
MRS. GWYN. It's all right, Uncle Tom. ”

“ THOMAS. Your wife, man!
[ROBERTS hesitates, then with a gesture, he leaps down, and goes away below the towing-path, the men making way for him. The standing bargeman opens and prepares to light a lantern. Daylight is fast failing.]
MADGE. He need n't have hurried! Annie Roberts is dead. [Then in the silence, passionately.] You pack of blinded hounds! How many more women are you going to let to die?
[The crowd shrinks back from her, and breaks up in groups, with a confused, uneasy movement. MADGE goes quickly away below the towing-path. There is a hush as they look after her.] ”

“ The men are here, sir. [ANTHONY makes a gesture of dismissal.] Shall I bring them in, sir?
ANTHONY. Wait!
[FROST goes out, ANTHONY turns to face his son.]
I come to the attack that has been made upon me.
[EDGAR, with a gesture of deprecation, remains motionless with his head a little bowed.]
A woman has died. I am told that her blood is on my hands; I am told that on my hands is the starvation and the suffering of other women and of children.
EDGAR. I said "on our hands," sir.
ANTHONY. It is the same. [His voice grows stronger and stronger, his feeling is more and more made manifest.] ”

“ MISS BEECH. Worse than ever happened to any one!
DICK. I swear I'm not thinking of myself.
MISS BEECH. Did y' ever know anybody that swore they were?
DICK. Oh! shut up!
MISS BEECH. You'd better go in and get yourself a partner.
DICK. [With pale desperation.] Look here, Peachey, I simply loathe all those girls.
MISS BEECH. Ah-h! [Ironically.] Poor lot, are n't they?
DICK. All right; chaff away, it's good fun, isn't it? It makes me sick to dance when Joy's lying there. Her last night, too!
MISS BEECH. [Sidling to him.] You're a good young man, and you 've got a good heart. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ She takes out a bottle of champagne, wipes it, and carries it away; but seeing MRS. GWYN's scarf lying across the chair, she fingers it, and stops, listening to the waltz. Suddenly draping it round her shoulders, she seizes the bottle of champagne, and waltzes with abandon to the music, as though avenging a long starvation of her instincts. Thus dancing, she is surprised by DICK, who has come to smoke a cigarette and think, at the spot where he was told to "have a go." ”

“ COLONEL. Did n't Joy come and tell you?
MRS. HOPE. I don't know what's the matter with that child? Well, Molly, so here you are. You're before your time—that train's always late.
MRS. GWYN. [With faint irony.] I'm sorry, Aunt Nell!
[They bob, seem to take fright, and kiss each other gingerly.]
MRS. HOPE. What have you done with Mr. Lever? I shall have to put him in Peachey's room. Tom's got no champagne.
COLONEL. They've a very decent brand down at the George, Molly, I'll send Bob over——
MRS. HOPE. Rubbish, Tom! He'll just have to put up with what he can get!
MRS. GWYN. Of course! ”

“ The fight o' the country's body and blood against a blood-sucker. The fight of those that spend themselves with every blow they strike and every breath they draw, against a thing that fattens on them, and grows and grows by the law of merciful Nature. ”

“ If this strike's not brought to an end before the General Meeting, the shareholders will certainly haul us over the coals.
SCANTLEBURY. [Stirring.] What—what's that?
WANKLIN. I know it for a fact.
ANTHONY. Let them!
WILDER. And get turned out?
WANKLIN. [To ANTHONY.] I don't mind martyrdom for a policy in which I believe, but I object to being burnt for some one else's principles.
SCANTLEBURY. Very reasonable—you must see that, Chairman.
ANTHONY. We owe it to other employers to stand firm.
WANKLIN. There's a limit to that.
ANTHONY. You were all full of fight at the start. ”

“ Anthony, you are not a young man now; from the time I remember anything ye have been an enemy to every man that has come into your works. I don't say that ye're a mean man, or a cruel man, but ye've grudged them the say of any word in their own fate. Ye've fought them down four times. I've heard ye say ye love a fight—mark my words—ye're fighting the last fight ye'll ever fight! ”

“ ROBERTS. [To the men.] We shan't put Mr. Harness off. Have some champagne with your lunch, Mr. Harness; you'll want it, sir.
HARNESS. Come, get to business, man!
THOMAS. What we're asking, look you, is just simple justice.
ROBERTS. [Venomously.] Justice from London? What are you talking about, Henry Thomas? Have you gone silly? [THOMAS is silent.] We know very well what we are—discontented dogs—never satisfied. ”