Authors: John Galsworthy
ANTHONY. The Board has nothing to say.
ROBERTS. [Looking along the line of men.] In that case we're wasting the Directors' time. We'll be taking our feet off this pretty carpet.
[He turns, the men move slowly, as though hypnotically influenced.]
WANKLIN: [Suavely.] Come, Roberts, you didn't give us this long cold journey for the pleasure of saying that.
THOMAS. [A pure Welshman.] No, sir, an' what I say iss—
ROBERTS.[Bitingly.] Go on, Henry Thomas, go on. You 're better able to speak to the—Directors than me. [THOMAS is silent.]
TENCH. The Chairman means, Roberts, that it was the men who asked for the conference, the Board wish to hear what they have to say.
ROBERTS. Gad! If I was to begin to tell ye all they have to say, I wouldn't be finished to-day. And there'd be some that'd wish they'd never left their London palaces.
HARNESS. What's your proposition, man? Be reasonable.
ROBERTS. You want reason Mr. Harness? Take a look round this afternoon before the meeting. [He looks at the men; no sound escapes them.] You'll see some very pretty scenery.
HARNESS. All right my friend; you won't put me off.
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. What did the Chairman tell me up in London? That I didn't know what I was talking about. I was a foolish, uneducated man, that knew nothing of the wants of the men I spoke for.
EDGAR. Do please keep to the point.
ANTHONY. [Holding up his hand.] There can only be one master, Roberts.
ROBERTS. Then, be Gad, it'll be us.
[There is a silence; ANTHONY and ROBERTS stare at one another.]
UNDERWOOD. If you've nothing to say to the Directors, Roberts, perhaps you'll let Green or Thomas speak for the men.
[GREEN and THOMAS look anxiously at ROBERTS, at each other, and the other men.]
GREEN. [An Englishman.] If I'd been listened to, gentlemen—
THOMAS. What I'fe got to say iss what we'fe all got to say—
ROBERTS. Speak for yourself, Henry Thomas.
SCANTLEBURY. [With a gesture of deep spiritual discomfort.] Let the poor men call their souls their own!
ROBERTS. Aye, they shall keep their souls, for it's not much body that you've left them, Mr. [with biting emphasis, as though the word were an offence] Scantlebury! [To the men.] Well, will you speak, or shall I speak for you?
ROUS. [Suddenly.] Speak out, Roberts, or leave it to others.
ROBERTS. [Ironically.] Thank you, George Rous. [Addressing himself to ANTHONY.] The Chairman and Board of Directors have honoured us by leaving London and coming all this way to hear what we've got to say; it would not be polite to keep them any longer waiting.
WILDER. Well, thank God for that!
ROBERTS. Ye will not dare to thank Him when I have done, Mr. Wilder, for all your piety. May be your God up in London has no time to listen to the working man. I'm told He is a wealthy God; but if he listens to what I tell Him, He will know more than ever He learned in Kensington.
HARNESS. Come, Roberts, you have your own God. Respect the God of other men.
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! [Roberts is silent.] You are here to speak for the men, as I am here to speak for the Board.
[He looks slowly round.] [WILDER, WANKLIN, and SCANTLEBURY make movements of uneasiness, and EDGAR gazes at the floor. A faint smile comes on HARNESS'S face.]
Now then, what is it?
ROBERTS. Right, Sir!
[Throughout all that follows, he and ANTHONY look fixedly upon each other. Men and Directors show in their various ways suppressed uneasiness, as though listening to words that they themselves would not have spoken.]
The men can't afford to travel up to London; and they don't trust you to believe what they say in black and white. They know what the post is [he darts a look at UNDERWOOD and TENCH], and what Directors' meetings are: "Refer it to the manager—let the manager advise us on the men's condition. Can we squeeze them a little more?"
UNDERWOOD. [In a low voice.] Don't hit below the belt, Roberts!
ROBERTS. Is it below the belt, Mr. Underwood? The men know. When I came up to London, I told you the position straight. An' what came of it? I was told I didn't know what I was talkin' about. I can't afford to travel up to London to be told that again.
ANTHONY. What have you to say for the men?
ROBERTS. I have this to say—and first as to their condition. Ye shall 'ave no need to go and ask your manager. Ye can't squeeze them anymore. Every man of us is well-nigh starving. [A surprised murmur rises from the men. ROBERTS looks round.] Ye wonder why I tell ye that? Every man of us is going short. We can't be no worse off than we've been these weeks past. Ye needn't think that by waiting yell drive us to come in. We'll die first, the whole lot of us. The men have sent for ye to know, once and for all, whether ye are going to grant them their demands. I see the sheet of paper in the Secretary's hand. [TENCH moves nervously.] That's it, I think, Mr. Tench. It's not very large.
TENCH. [Nodding.] Yes.
ROBERTS. There's not one sentence of writing on that paper that we can do without.
[A movement amongst the men. ROBERTS turns on them sharply.]
Isn't that so?
[The men assent reluctantly. ANTHONY takes from TENCH the paper and peruses it.]
Not one single sentence. All those demands are fair. We have not. asked anything that we are not entitled to ask. What I said up in London, I say again now: there is not anything on that piece of paper that a just man should not ask, and a just man give.
[A pause.]
ANTHONY. There is not one single demand on this paper that we will grant.
[In the stir that follows on these words, ROBERTS watches the Directors and ANTHONY the men. WILDER gets up abruptly and goes over to the fire.]
ROBERTS. D' ye mean that?
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. Ye think because the men have got their wives an' families to think of—that it's just a question of a week or two—
ANTHONY. It would be better if you did not speculate so much on what we think.
ROBERTS. Aye! It's not much profit to us! I will say this for you, Mr. Anthony—ye know your own mind! [Staying at ANTHONY.] I can reckon on ye!
ANTHONY. [Ironically.] I am obliged to you!
ROBERTS. And I know mine. I tell ye this: The men will send their wives and families where the country will have to keep them; an' they will starve sooner than give way. I advise ye, Mr. Anthony, to prepare yourself for the worst that can happen to your Company. We are not so ignorant as you might suppose. We know the way the cat is jumping. Your position is not all that it might be—not exactly!
ANTHONY. Be good enough to allow us to judge of our position for ourselves. Go back, and reconsider your own.
ROBERTS. [Stepping forward.] Mr. 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!
[TENCH touches ROBERTS'S sleeve.]
UNDERWOOD. Roberts! Roberts!
ROBERTS. Roberts! Roberts! I mustn't speak my mind to the Chairman, but the Chairman may speak his mind to me!
WILDER. What are things coming to?
ANTHONY, [With a grim smile at WILDER.] Go on, Roberts; say what you like!
ROBERTS. [After a pause.] I have no more to say.
ANTHONY. The meeting stands adjourned to five o'clock.
WANKLIN. [In a low voice to UNDERWOOD.] We shall never settle anything like this.
ROBERTS. [Bitingly.] We thank the Chairman and Board of Directors for their gracious hearing.
[He moves towards the door; the men cluster together stupefied; then ROUS, throwing up his head, passes ROBERTS and goes out. The others follow.]
ROBERTS. [With his hand on the door—maliciously.] Good day, gentlemen! [He goes out.]
HARNESS. [Ironically.] I congratulate you on the conciliatory spirit that's been displayed. With your permission, gentlemen, I'll be with you again at half-past five. Good morning!
[He bows slightly, rests his eyes on ANTHONY, who returns his stare unmoved, and, followed by UNDERWOOD, goes out. There is a moment of uneasy silence. UNDERWOOD reappears in the doorway.]
WILDER. [With emphatic disgust.] Well!
[The double-doors are opened.]
ENID. [Standing in the doorway.] Lunch is ready.
[EDGAR, getting up abruptly, walks out past his sister.]
WILDER. Coming to lunch, Scantlebury?
SCANTLEBURY. [Rising heavily.] I suppose so, I suppose so. It's the only thing we can do.
[They go out through the double-doors.]
WANKLIN. [In a low voice.] Do you really mean to fight to a finish, Chairman?
[ANTHONY nods.]
WANKLIN. Take care! The essence of things is to know when to stop.
[ANTHONY does not answer.]
WANKLIN. [Very gravely.] This way disaster lies. The ancient Trojans were fools to your father, Mrs. Underwood. [He goes out through the double-doors.]
ENID. I want to speak to father, Frank.
[UNDERWOOD follows WANKLIN Out. TENCH, passing round the table, is restoring order to the scattered pens and papers.]
ENID. Aren't you coming, Dad?
[ANTHONY Shakes his head. ENID looks meaningly at TENCH.]
ENID. Won't you go and have some lunch, Mr. Tench?
TENCH. [With papers in his hand.] Thank you, ma'am, thank you! [He goes slowly, looking back.]
ENID. [Shutting the doors.] I do hope it's settled, Father!
ANTHONY. No!
ENID. [Very disappointed.] Oh! Haven't you done anything!
[ANTHONY shakes his head.]
ENID. Frank says they all want to come to a compromise, really, except that man Roberts.
ANTHONY. I don't.
ENID. It's such a horrid position for us. If you were the wife of the manager, and lived down here, and saw it all. You can't realise, Dad!
ANTHONY. Indeed?
ENID. We see all the distress. You remember my maid Annie, who married Roberts? [ANTHONY nods.] It's so wretched, her heart's weak; since the strike began, she hasn't even been getting proper food. I know it for a fact, Father.
ANTHONY. Give her what she wants, poor woman!
ENID. Roberts won't let her take anything from us.
ANTHONY. [Staring before him.] I can't be answerable for the men's obstinacy.
ENID. They're all suffering. Father! Do stop it, for my sake!
ANTHONY. [With a keen look at her.] You don't understand, my dear.
ENID. If I were on the Board, I'd do something.
ANTHONY. What would you do?
ENID. It's because you can't bear to give way. It's so—
ANTHONY. Well?
ENID. So unnecessary.
ANTHONY. What do you know about necessity? Read your novels, play your music, talk your talk, but don't try and tell me what's at the bottom of a struggle like this.
ENID. I live down here, and see it.
ANTHONY. What d' you imagine stands between you and your class and these men that you're so sorry for?
ENID. [Coldly.] I don't know what you mean, Father.