LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 SAN DIEGO
 
 Plays of To-day and To-morrow 
 
 DON. By RUDOLF BESIER. 
 
 " Mr. Besier is a man who can see and think for himself, and con- 
 struct as setting for the result of that activity a form of his own. The 
 construction of Don ' is as daring as it is original." Mr. Max Beer- 
 bohm in The Saturday Review. 
 
 " It is a fresh and moving story . . . and full of good things." Mr. 
 A. B. Walkley in Tlie Times. 
 
 "'Don' is a genuine modern comedy, rich in observation and 
 courage, and will add to the author's reputation as a sincere dramatist." 
 Mr. E. F. Spence in The Westminster Gazette. 
 
 THE EARTH. By JAMES B. PAGAN. 
 
 "A magnificent play at one and the same time a vital and fearless 
 attack on political fraud, and a brilliantly-written strong human 
 drama." The Daily Chronicle. 
 
 " ' The Earth ' must conquer every one by its buoyant irony, its 
 pungent delineations, and not least by its rich stores of simple and 
 wholesome moral feeling." The Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 LADY PATRICIA. By RUDOLF BESIER. 
 
 " One of the most delightful productions which the stage has shown 
 us in recent years. Mr. Besier's work would ' read ' deliciously ; it is 
 literary, it is witty, it is remarkable. . . . ' Lady Patricia ' is much more 
 than merely a success of laughter. It is also a success of literature. 
 It is difficult, if not impossible, to convey the delicate feeling for 
 words, the quaint, satirical quizzing of Mr. Besier of the frrtcieuse, the 
 dabblers in sentiment, the poseurs who form the people of his play." 
 The Standard. 
 
 THE MASTER OF MRS. CHILVERS. 
 
 By JEROME K. JEROME. 
 
 " It cannot be denied that Mr. Jerome has written an excellent acting 
 play." Glasgow Herald. 
 
 " There is no caricature of the suffragist, and every type in the play 
 is both carefully and skilfully drawn." Aberdeen Free Press. 
 
 THE WATERS OF BITTERNESS 
 
 (A Play in Three Acts) and THE CLODHOPPER 
 (An Incredible Comedy). By S. M. Fox. 
 " I am inclined to think that we shall hear a great deal of Mr. Fox 
 supposing that Mr. Fox writes other plays as clever as ' The Waters of 
 Bitterness,' and supposing that managers think the public clever 
 enough to appreciate them. Anyhow his is a strong and bold debut." 
 Mr. Max Beerbohm in The Saturday Review. 
 
 THE LOWER DEPTHS. By MAXIM 
 GORKY. Translated by LAURENCE IRVING. 
 
 " As a picture of character and life it is profoundly and enthrallingly 
 interesting." The Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 " Maxim Gorky's group of vivid studies of the submerged tenth of 
 Russian society, which he presents in the form of drama, offers 
 features of absorbing interest to the student of human nature." The 
 Globe. 
 
 TURANDOT, PRINCESS OF CHINA. 
 
 A Chinoiserie in Three Acts. By KARL 
 VOLLMOELLER. Translated by JETHRO BITHELL.
 
 OF 
 
 THIS
 
 BY THE SAeME AUTHOR 
 
 NOVELS 
 OUR OWN PO<MPEII 
 
 GEORGE 
 
 *A Study in Drab and Scarlet 
 
 A CHILD OF THE SHORE 
 *A Cornish Romance 
 
 POETRT 
 VERSES FOR GRANNT 
 
 PLATS 
 
 THE WATERS OF BITTERNESS 
 THE CLODHOPPER
 
 V^u-^ 
 
 THIS GENERATION 
 
 A PLAY 
 
 BY 
 
 S. 3M. FOX 
 
 Author of " The Waters of Bitterness" etc. 
 
 if 
 
 LONDON: T. FISHSR 
 ADELPHI
 
 First Published in 1913 
 
 Copyright 1913 by S. M. Fox in the U.S.A.) 
 
 (All rights reserved.)
 
 TO 
 
 H. J. R. P. 
 F. M. F. 
 
 AND 
 
 C. S F.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 GEOBGE TBEMAYNE Of Tremayne & Son, Cigarette 
 
 Manufacturers 
 
 MB. HABBUBN Of Harburn & Co., Financiers 
 
 MB. BAXTER, L.C.C A Journalist 
 
 CHABLIE DICKINSON A Sculptor 
 
 TOM GWOTKIN 
 A YOUNG CLEBGYMAN 
 A COMMITTEE MAN 
 Two WOBKMEN 
 LUCY TBEMAYNE 
 
 CLABA HABBUBN Lucy's Sister 
 
 MBS. BAXTER 
 
 LAUBA JEVANS George's Sister 
 
 MATILDA 
 
 HABOLD AND MILLIE Tremayne's Children 
 
 Servants. Workmen and their Wives. A few " West End 
 People." Performers, etc.
 
 THE FIKST ACT 
 
 TBEMAYNE'S HOUSE IN HOLLAND PABK 
 (Six months elapse) 
 
 THE SECOND ACT 
 
 TEEMAYNE'S LITTLE NEWSAGENT'S SHOP, NOTTING HILL 
 (Six months elapse) 
 
 THE THIED ACT 
 
 A WOBKING MAN'S CLUB, FULHAM 
 (Three months elapse) 
 
 THE FOURTH ACT 
 MBS. TBEMAYNE'S HOUSE, SOUTH KENSINGTON
 
 THE FIRST ACT
 
 THE FIEST ACT 
 
 SCENE : The comfortable smoking-room of 
 TREMAYNE'S house in Holland Park taste- 
 fully and very artistically furnished. The 
 pictures (Medici Society prints, and so on*) 
 are few in number. The -fireplace and door 
 are on the right. Two windows on the left. 
 There are folding -doors at the back which 
 are thrown open as the curtain rises to admit 
 TREMAYNE, BAXTER, and DICKINSON. A 
 dinner -table spread with dessert is seen. 
 
 GEORGE TREMAYNE is a good-looking man 
 about thirty -five. Ardent and enthusi- 
 astic for the welfare of others, he has 
 long suffered from a sense of the incon- 
 sistency of his position for he is at the 
 same time a prosperous manufacturer 
 and a whole-hearted Socialist. He is 
 filled with pity for those who suffer. 
 There is something of Tolstoi's idealism 
 in his nature. And his views grow 
 more uncompromising and unworldly as 
 the need of a new life for all men 
 presses upon him. 
 
 15
 
 16 THIS GENERATION 
 
 BAXTER is forty sharp, practical, able. He 
 is on the staff of a Radical newspaper, 
 " The Daily Phone," and a member of 
 the L.C.C. He carefully calls himself 
 a Progressive, in preference to Socialist, 
 because he holds that at the present 
 moment advanced Radicalism is the 
 more practical policy. He is a Fabian, 
 and believes in evolutionary politics. 
 
 DICKINSON is a sculptor, twenty -five, and 
 young for that. He has a certain charm 
 of face and manner which is very 
 attractive. Burning with fires of scorn 
 at the hideous mess of our civilization, 
 he overflows with artistic socialism. 
 $o greedy for universal health and joy 
 and beauty, he takes no thought of 
 means, and is proud to be called un- 
 practical and flighty. But at present 
 he is too light-hearted to wonder if he 
 is merely " beating in the void his 
 luminous wings in vain." 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Let's come in here ! The wife is a bit old- 
 fashioned. She doesn't like smoke in the dining- 
 room. (He closes the doors and hands a 
 silver cigar -box.) Have a cigar? (BAXTER 
 shakes his head.) Oh, I remember you don't 
 smoke !
 
 THIS GENERATION 17 
 
 BAXTER. 
 Poison ! 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 One must have a little poison in life- to keep one 
 sweet ! I'll have a cigarette ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Handing box.) Don't be alarmed they're not 
 ours ! I'll have a pipe. (Picks his up and 
 begins to fill it.) Now we're all suited let's sit 
 down. (He and BAXTER drop into comfortable 
 chairs. DICKINSON stands, back to the fire.) 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 I always say your chairs give you away, George 
 they're so opulent ! If you make us too com- 
 fortable, we shall stay too long. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 We won't keep the ladies many minutes. The 
 fact is, I want to have a talk to you two. I've 
 something to tell you. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Quite like the opening of The Second Mrs. 
 Tanqueray. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (Playfully.) Don't say that when he's got 
 the good fortune to have the first still. (To 
 TREMAYNE.) I beg your pardon . . . ! 
 
 2
 
 18 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Well ! it's like in a way. For I've asked you 
 here to-night to break a piece of news to you 
 both (a maidservant enters and hands the coffee) 
 in a minute. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 I hope it's good news. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 The best ! 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Then you're not going to join the Syndicalist 
 lot? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 No. I don't hold with revolutionary methods. 
 I believe in brotherly kindness and graduated 
 taxation 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 You're right ! More scientific and far more 
 effective ! You can worm in a screw where you 
 can't drive a nail. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (Who has been wandering round and is now 
 looking at a statuette.) I wish you'd got a Rodin, 
 George. If you will stink of money you couldn't 
 spend it better. Get one of those small marble 
 groups you know ! Two figures flowing together 
 like the ripples of the tide. (He takes his coffee.)
 
 THIS GENERATION 19 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I'm not sure what my wife would say. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 Educate her ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 My dear Dickey ! If you were married you'd 
 know that was easier said than done. 
 
 (The maid departs.) 
 
 BAXTER. 
 Now for it. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Bursting out.) I can't afford Rodins ! I can't 
 afford anything ! I've burnt my boats ! I've 
 given up business ! I'm almost a pauper ! 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 Splendid ! 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 So you're really going to face the music and 
 chuck the Golden Calf. I've done you an in- 
 justice, George. I always thought you were one 
 of those chaps who say " Capital must be fought 
 by Capital." They mean their own, of course, 
 and the bigger the weapon the better. They make 
 the excuse that we're in a transitional period.
 
 20 THIS GENERATION 
 
 I don't say they're conscious hypocrites, but 
 they're utterly inconsistent. They damn the 
 cause. 
 
 GEOEGE. 
 
 We're all inconsistent more or less. I'm 
 giving up business on consicentious grounds, but 
 I'm keeping back a hundred a year. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 I should make it two, old chap, while I had the 
 chance. In this transitional period, you know, 
 one really does need two. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 It's mostly on Lucy's account. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Then I should make it four ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I'm afraid she won't like the change. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Of course she won't. No woman likes poverty 
 unless she's one of us. Even then it's difficult 
 to get her to swallow it voluntarily without a 
 grimace. (Ironically.) They've got such a lot 
 of common sense. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Warmly.) Lucy's awfully unselfish and loyal
 
 THIS GENERATION 21 
 
 to me. I shall talk her round. She'll back me 
 up. But I haven't told her yet. So please don't 
 breathe a word of this to-night. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 No, no ! 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Of course not ! 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (Throwing himself into a chair.) What con- 
 verted you? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Hotly.) The horrible deceit of it all ! You 
 must trick and lie it's the custom of the trade ! 
 You must lie and trick and undersell it's legiti- 
 mate competition. Here am I, not only a 
 capitalist preaching Socialism, but a man grow- 
 ing rich by undermining the health of the rising 
 generation. Our cigarettes are dirt cheap mostly 
 paper. They're the favourite smoke for boys ; 
 and in spite of the Act, we sell more than ever. 
 We force them on the public. We must force 
 them on the public with horrid, lying, full -page 
 advertisements in the daily papers. You know 
 them ! Well, that's business the quick -to -be -rich 
 soul of modern business. I've struggled against 
 my conscience for months for years and I can't 
 make my life a living lie any longer.
 
 22 THIS GENERATION 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 What do your partners say? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Delighted ! They'll have my share in future. 
 I was a bit qf a check on them. They regarded 
 me as an obstructive a crank. And now they'll 
 be able to run the concern on purely up-to-date 
 lines. The tobacco'll be worse, the paper'll be 
 worse, the wages worse than ever. If they can 
 spend still less on the stuff and more on the 
 " ads." they'll double their income. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Fresh "tips," I suppose? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Don't mention the word I invented it ! Fancy 
 a man making a fortune out of a monosyllable 
 and nobody not even his own employees one 
 penny the better. One night I happened to think 
 of it. Next morning I went down to the office 
 and said, "Why not nick -name our stuff?'' 
 So we started our Turf Tips and Stock Exchange 
 Tips and Blue Jacket Tips and Tommy Tips. 
 The idea caught on. Our business went up by 
 leaps and bounds. You've seen our posters? 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Can't escape 'em. But why don't you make 
 'em more artistic? A really artistic poster
 
 THIS GENERATION 23 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 (Interrupting.) All posters are a mark of 
 the beast. But what are you going to do next? 
 Not take to cocoa, I hope, as a compromise ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 That would be nearly as bad from my point 
 of view. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Most men when they make " the great refusal " 
 begin with carpentering and do it damned badly. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 No, I shan't be a carpenter. I'm going to 
 make picture -frames artistic frames with gesso. 
 I can make them quite decently. I thought of 
 keeping a little newspaper shop as well. It'll 
 give a chance of pushing our literature. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (With encouraging cheerfulness.') Duty self- 
 sacrifice the simple life ! Now you'll know what 
 it is to be happy. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Getting up and walking about restlessly.) I 
 I hope so. But there are awful difficulties to 
 face. For instance, there are the children. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 We must think of the forces of the future 
 " a little child shall lead them."
 
 24 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Yes, of course. But if you're an out-and-out 
 Socialist, children are a complication. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 I suppose that's why most of us have so few 
 or none? 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Don't talk like that ! If we're going to capture 
 the world, we must multiply as fast as possible. 
 Don't they say " the more the merrier "? 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 The women don't say so nowadays. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Unfortunately ! One constantly hears " There's 
 no place for the child in modern life." 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 If that were true it condemns modern life it 
 damns it utterly ! 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 You can't expect to have everything, old chap ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 As far as we're concerned, there are practical 
 difficulties. Schools ! I can't conscientiously send 
 Harold to a public school besides, I couldn't
 
 THIS GENERATION 25 
 
 afford it if I wished to. The children belong to 
 the people they are the people. They'll have 
 to go to a Provided School. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Of course why not? I began in a Board 
 School. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Still, there are things one can't help shrink- 
 ing from accents, infections, acquaintanceships. 
 Their mother will be horrified naturally ! 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Why, you're the very man who preaches about 
 Walt Whitman and human fellowship, and 
 " nobody being common or unclean." 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Grimly.} When I rashly said "nobody was 
 common or unclean," I ought to have made an 
 exception in favour of certain children. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Do your kids all the good in the world ! None 
 of that pestilential nonsense about " public school 
 tone." A Provided School will make 'em see life 
 seriously. If it makes 'em dissatisfied, so much 
 the better . 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Poor dears ! You haven't got any children,
 
 26 THIS GENERATION 
 
 Baxter. After all's said and done, it's rather 
 a wrench to hreak with one's class. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Class ! You don't usually talk to us about 
 class. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 No. But to-night I'm a bit upset, I suppose. 
 Don't forget I'm taking a plunge and dragging 
 the family down with me. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 I admire your courage. It's magnificent but 
 it isn't Fabian. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (Patting TREMAYNE encouragingly on the 
 shoulder.) You're awfully plucky, old man ! 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 (Heartily.) You are, indeed. Don't think I'm 
 criticizing, please. I want to encourage you. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 We mustn't forget the ladies. If they don't 
 mind smoking they might join us here. It's 
 snugger when we're a small party. 
 
 (They all rise. He goes.) 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 It's a fine thing to do. He's giving up two or
 
 THIS GENERATION 27 
 
 three thousand a year. I like a man who acts 
 as well as talks. They're rare enough ! 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 The Sermon on the Mount appeals to him. I 
 believe he would really like to follow its teaching. 
 There'll be ructions with his good lady. She 
 reads the Sermon he strives to live it. 
 
 BAXTEK. 
 
 Yes, she's parasitic the tender, clinging, 
 domestic sort, wrapped up in her home and 
 family, though when it comes to what she calls 
 " right and wrong," she can be as obstinate as a 
 mule. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 I know them chimney ornaments. One com- 
 fort, there won't be any room left very soon for 
 these " dainty rogues in porcelain." 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 By the way, I saw Jevans this morning. His 
 wife's gone off with young Learmouth. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 You don't say so ! Was he much cut up ? 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 He's a sensible modern chap, with lenient ideas, 
 and makes the best of it. I think he may have 
 arranged it, or at least acquiesced.
 
 28 THIS GENERATION 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Isn't she George's sister? What '11 he say? 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 He'll hate it. That sort of thing may he right 
 in theory. We want to loosen the marriage tie 
 and do away with too much subsequent stigma. 
 But still, when it comes to your sister well, she 
 is your sister. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 If I were a woman I know I couldn't stand the 
 same man for long. Lots of 'em are getting to 
 feel that nowadays. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Oh, you're an artist with temperament and 
 tantrums ! 
 
 (GEORGE returns with the ladies. LUCY 
 TREMAYNE is a sweet -faced woman of 
 about thirty, under whose gentle and 
 appealing manner may be detected a 
 touch of firmness. Her ideas have been 
 stereotyped, her mind made up. She 
 is difficult to persuade, impossible to 
 convince above all things, " a womanly 
 woman," with the quiet atmosphere 
 which comes from the old habits and 
 traditional thoughts of other days.) 
 
 (CLARA HARBURN is a bright, pretty, 
 fashionably gowned young woman, whose
 
 THIS GENERATION 29 
 
 days are fully occupied with devoting 
 her life to its own amusement.) 
 
 (MRS. BAXTER is a large, handsome woman 
 of about thirty -five, cesthetically 
 dressed, but with quiet good taste. She 
 wears sandals instead of shoes. Her 
 profession is making enamels. Her life 
 is devoted to that, the Woman's Cause, 
 and Social Reform. She is difficult to 
 contradict, impossible to disconcert. 
 Though very calm in manner, she speaks 
 with extreme decision.) 
 LUCY. 
 
 George has brought us down. We generally 
 sit here when we're alone. He likes to smoke. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 My wife smokes instead of me. She has the 
 nerves of the modern woman nothing affects 
 them. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Handing cigarettes.) Then have a cigarette. 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 (Taking one.) Thanks. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 (Taking one). Thanks, awfully. How I envy 
 the girls who work in the factory. It must be 
 such fun rolling up the tobacco. 
 
 (The party gradually settles into chairs.)
 
 30 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 It's done by machinery. The girls only pack 
 the boxes. The work's frightfully monotonous. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 But still, they're earning their living. It's not 
 unhealthy. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 They're dreadfully underpaid. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 I'm ashamed of you, George, with all your 
 give-away views ! Why don't you pay them 
 better ? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Sarcastically.) Business is business. Why 
 should we pay 'em more than they're worth ? 
 (To the others.) I speak as " a master." 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 Can't they strike? I should strike. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 They can't wretched slaves ! They're not 
 organized. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Sighing.) Poor souls! (To MRS. BAXTER.) 
 I've got a girls' club at the works. I do what I 
 can. But I'm distressed about the mothers.
 
 THIS GENERATION 31 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 (Decisively.} All mothers must be kept by the 
 State, and their children fed and looked after. 
 There aren't two opinions on that. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I assure you there are. The idea almost shocks 
 me. It's robbing a woman of half the bliss of 
 motherhood and all the comfort of home. I can't 
 help feeling it's rather hard on any woman 
 to have to work except in domestic service, and 
 so on. 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 (Still more decisively.) Every woman should 
 have an occupation. It's the secret of happiness. 
 I live for nothing except the Women's Cause and 
 my enamels. Our taking up work is the only way 
 by which we can become economically independent. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 But why should we want to be? 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 Why? We don't! We want to be extrava- 
 gantly independent. (Turning on MRS. BAXTER 
 playfully.) When you've abolished all the rich 
 people, who's going to buy your work ? 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 (Without a smile.) The State.
 
 32 THIS GENERATION 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 Will it pay for it? 
 
 MRS, BAXTER. 
 
 Yes. In credit notes possibly. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 I should prefer hard cash. (To DICKINSON.) 
 Will the State be clamouring for your sculpture? 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 If it's good enough. In every town there'll 
 be beautiful avenues of ideal statues leading up 
 to the free institutions theatres, colleges, that 
 sort of thing. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 (Turning playfully to MRS. BAXTER.) And 
 our hats? Will the State dare provide them? 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 It may come to that some day when its 
 organization is perfect. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 Ready trimmed? 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 I imagine so. But that's quite a matter of 
 detail. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 A matter of detail ! I didn't know your horrid 
 State could be quite as horrid as that. I shall
 
 THIS GENERATION 33 
 
 be a passive resister. We shall have to exter- 
 minate Socialists, I can see, as enemies to the 
 human race. Father's awfully down on them. 
 He says they're already driving capital out of 
 the country. People are growing nervous. West 
 End trade's getting so bad that if it wasn't 
 for the Americans half of the best shops would be 
 bankrupt. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 We hope all of them will be bankrupt soon ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Naturally shocked.) Please don't talk like 
 that. It's not right. I know you don't mean it. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (Walking across for another cigarette. He 
 turns to CLARA.) You say we're trying to spoil 
 all your fun you're quite wrong. (With light 
 enthusiasm.) We want to give you more health 
 and beauty and happiness much, much more. 
 Only we don't mean merely to give it to you 
 and yours, but to every one. Look at the poor, 
 miserable, undersized, weak-minded wretches we 
 breed nowadays. That's due to our industrial 
 system. We're going to stop it. We're going 
 to teach men the beauty and dignity of the human 
 body. Have you ever strolled through the 
 Tuileries Gardens? The sculpture there is a joy 
 and a tonic. It opens one's eyes to what we 
 may do in the future. 
 
 3
 
 34 THIS GENERATION 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (With a touch of chill disapproval.) I hope 
 we may never have anything quite so French in 
 London. 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 Clothes are a worn-out survival. We ought 
 to be able to discard them whenever we choose. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 We do ! We do now whenever we can afford 
 to buy new ones ! 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 Hats and gloves and shoes and stockings are 
 going fast. I'm glad to say women are losing 
 their morbid sense of shame. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 While the men seem catching it. 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 All those artistic dancers are educating the 
 public. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Of course. They're the best of missionaries. 
 They're letting it down by degrees. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 The dress?
 
 THIS GENERATION 35 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 No, the public. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 (With mock horror.) But do you really mean 
 we're to have no new clothes no fresh gowns or 
 anything ? 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Not at all. One must use common sense. I 
 don't want unclad people walking about the streets, 
 of course. But we're going to have plenty of 
 health places where we can get fit by wearing 
 nothing. Like all those Freiluftgymnasien in 
 Copenhagen. Air, sun, health, physical culture, 
 nudity ! That's my receipt for most of the ills 
 we suffer from. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Puzzled and vaguely scandalized.) We live 
 in strange times. You never know what people 
 may not be proposing next. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 You're right there, Lucy. Always keep pre- 
 pared for anything, and you'll never be shocked. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I hope I shan't have cause. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 We'll convert you. Won't we, George?
 
 36 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 We'll do our best. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 (Rising.) Pray excuse me. I'm due at the 
 newspaper office. (Every one rises.) (To Lucy.) 
 Good -night. (To his wife.) Good -night. 
 
 (He shakes hands all round, and goes out 
 accompanied by GEORGE.) 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I suppose your husband won't be back till 
 very late? 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 I suppose not. I never see him till breakfast. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I shouldn't like that. I can't bear sleeping 
 alone. 
 
 CLARA 
 
 She's frightened. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 No, I'm not ; but I don't like being alone it's 
 so lonely. 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 Sharing a bed or a bedroom is quite old- 
 fashioned. It's unhygienic.
 
 THIS GENERATION 37 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I am quite old-fashioned. 
 
 (The servant enters with a tray, on which 
 are whisky, soda, and a jug of hot 
 water.) 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Have something to drink? 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 Thanks ! I should like some hot water. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Pouring it out, but speaking to DICKINSON.) 
 And you? 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 I'll help myself if I may. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Please do. 
 
 (He takes a whisky and soda.) 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 My one fear is, the new State may decree 
 prohibition. 
 
 (GEORGE returns . ) 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I met rather an interesting youth at the 
 Working Men's Club last night. His name's 
 Gwotkin nineteen, clever, delicate I should say
 
 38 THIS GENERATION 
 
 consumptive. He's awfully keen on our work- 
 wants to write. I meant to speak to your hus- 
 band about him. 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 I'll mention him to Herbert, but there isn't 
 much chance. I know these youths. They need 
 training before they're any use. A heart gush- 
 ing over with love for the poor and bile for the 
 rich doesn't in itself make a journalist. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 Though it may make a Cabinet Minister. 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 It's possible. We have nothing to do with 
 Cabinet Ministers. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Rather not ! They're the touts and cheap - 
 jacks outside the show, put up to blow the trum- 
 pet and do the patter that's what they're paid 
 for. Both parties are equally time-serving and 
 contemptible. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 As long as they're financed by capitalists, they 
 must be. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Feeling the ground all the time slipping from 
 under her feet.) But we must have a Government, 
 George.
 
 THIS GENERATION 39 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Do you know whom we're governed by now? 
 A gang of crimps called the Party Wire-pullers. 
 They've got the cash, and they run the show. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 Then all the Reform Bills have been a mistake, 
 after all. (To LUCY.) You know uncle always 
 said so. 
 
 (The company are too flabbergasted to speak.) 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 (Rising to end such folly.) I must be going 
 it's getting late. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 I take your tube, so I'll join you. 
 
 (They both say good-night to the ladies, and 
 go out accompanied by GEORGE.) 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 (Calling after him.) A taxi, please, George. 
 (To her sister.) My dear, they're too killing for 
 words ! What a set ! Did you hear what she 
 said about hats ? And she wasn't joking ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 And what they said about clothes? Do you 
 really think they're quite sane?
 
 40 THIS GENERATION 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I'm afraid so, dear. I'm very depressed about 
 the future . 
 
 CLAEA. 
 
 Oh, nonsense ! They can't do much harm. It's 
 only their queer conceit and oddity. All women 
 at least are conservatives at heart. That's why 
 we must get the vote somehow. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I used to think so, but now I'm not sure. 
 Women seem changing like everything else. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 The best of George is, his talk's all talk. One 
 knows he means nothing by it. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Warmly.) He means everything he says. He 
 is filled with pity for all the wrong and suffer- 
 ing round us. He'd do anything if he could 
 put a stop to it. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 So should we all, dear. But one can't do much 
 except subscribe to charities. And they say they 
 generally do more harm than good. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Besides, even George is changing. I don't quite 
 know what he wants, but he's restless and dis- 
 contented. There's something horrid coming that
 
 THIS GENERATION 41 
 
 I shall hate. I feel such a worm because I'm 
 quite happy just as I am. I suppose I'm old- 
 fashioned. I don't like change. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 Have you noticed that the men with super - 
 noble natures hardly ever get on with their wives? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Perhaps they marry the wrong women. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 (Emphatically.} Yes, dear. And don't they 
 jolly well let 'em know it ! 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 (Entering.) The taxi. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 Kissing her sister.) Good -night, dear. 
 Thanks for a very amusing evening. (To 
 GEORGE.) Your set's getting queerer than ever. 
 I didn't know such people existed. I shall have 
 plenty to entertain my partners with at the dance 
 on Tuesday. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Kissing her.) Good-night, dear. Love to 
 father . 
 
 (GEORGE goes out with CLARA.) 
 (LUCY tidies back the chairs, and then picks 
 
 up the "Spectator") 
 
 (GEORGE returns, and looks over her 
 shoulder.)
 
 42 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEOKGE. 
 
 (After a moment.') Do you like the Spectator? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Yes ; it's so satisfactory and sustaining. I 
 wish you read it, dear. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Very gently.} Please don't read any more 
 just now. I want to talk to you. 
 
 (He takes it away from her quietly, and 
 folding it, stands with his back to the 
 fire while he continues.) 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 You know what I've always felt about our 
 business. It's not as though it were merely one 
 of those businesses which are non-productive 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 But it is productive. It produces cigarettes. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I mean economically non-productive. It doesn't 
 really increase the wealth of the country. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I dare say. It increases ours, though. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Warming.') It's a business which fattens on 
 the lives of others. You understand? In order
 
 THIS GENERATION 43 
 
 that you and I may live in luxury, we must 
 do harm to our fellow -creatures. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 It seems dreadful when you put it like that. 
 I only wish you were rich enough to retire. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (With emphasis.} I have retired. 
 
 LUCY 
 
 (Springing up and coming towards him 
 delightedly.) Oh, George, I'm so glad ! I know 
 how you've stuck to it, though you hated the 
 whole concern. It's nice to think you can afford 
 to get out of it. 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 (In a curious voice.) I can't. That's why 
 I've done so. We shall have to live now in quite 
 a different way a very small way. It will be 
 the sacrifice we make to duty. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Leaning affectionately on his shoulder.) I 
 know your good heart, George, and how you live 
 for others. I don't want to be selfish. If you 
 think we can really help people by going into 
 a smaller house, I shan't complain. I shall be 
 proud to back you up. But don't forget that 
 the less we spend the more the tradespeople will 
 suffer .
 
 44 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Tenderly.) There's a brave little woman. 
 (He kisses her.) We shall be very poor. We 
 shall have hardly anything. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Starting bade.) Why? You're not bankrupt? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I'm as good. I've turned my back on the old 
 life, once for all. I've given up wealth and 
 the world's consideration in order to tread the 
 higher path. (Stretching out his arms appeal- 
 ingly.) Let us tread it, dear hand in hand- 
 together . 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 But can't you put off retiring till you've made 
 enough money? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Impossible ! That would be the basest 
 cowardice . 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 But people will have cheap cigarettes. If you 
 don't make them, somebody else will. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Indignantly.) Oh, Lucy Lucy don't say 
 that ! It's the devil's excuse for every sin.
 
 THIS GENERATION 45 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 And you always told me you restrained your 
 partners. They'll be able to do much more harm 
 when you're gone. Have you thought of that? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Yes, yes. When one tries to do right, in the 
 horrible mess of our civilization, one's liable to 
 bring evil as well as good to others I know 
 that. But that mustn't stop us. If one does 
 right it will all turn out for the best, in the long 
 run. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Where are we going? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Rigidly.) To a little shop. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Gasping.) To a little shop ! 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 To a little newspaper shop in Netting Hill. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 That's impossible ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 No. I intend to take it. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Indignant outraged.) You must be mad!
 
 46 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I've become a fool in the eyes of the world 
 that I may help my fellow -creatures. You 
 believe the New Testament was divinely inspired. 
 Don't you wish to follow its teaching? Have 
 you forgotten the words : " Love not the World, 
 neither the things that are in the World? " 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Of course not ! But people in our position, even 
 the most religious people, don't keep little shops. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (In his turn growing hotter.} Never use that 
 disgusting word " position " ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 What word may I use, then? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 None ! We shall have no position. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 It's degrading. We don't belong to the shop- 
 keeping class. I ought to have been consulted 
 first. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 My mind was made up. It would only have 
 distressed us both. Perhaps the thought of you 
 and the children has made me procrastinate. I'm 
 sorry I didn't speak before.
 
 THIS GENERATION 47 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I ought to have been consulted first. Father 11 
 never allow it. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Your father's consent will not be asked. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 It will by me. And what's to become of the 
 children ? You can't wish to ruin them as well ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 They'll have to go to school a Provided School. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 What's that? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 A Board School. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (With lofty certainty.) Oh, of course that's 
 impossible. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (With conciliation.) I don't think we need 
 discuss it now. My mind's made up. I go to 
 the shop whether you come with me or not- 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (All trace of temper gone, but in deep distress.) 
 It all seems so horrible. I can't realize it yet.
 
 48 THIS GENERATION 
 
 These wicked, crazy people have got hold of you, 
 dear, and dragged you down. They play on your 
 kindness of heart. They make a tool of you. 
 I've seen it coming on for years, like some vice 
 such as secret drinking. I've struggled and 
 struggled to save you, and all in vain. (On the 
 edge of tears.) Oh, George, I'm very unhappy ! 
 Forgive me I hardly know what I'm saying. 
 (She leans against him.) But you know I'm 
 coming with you. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Putting his arm around her.) Poor child- 
 poor child ! I'm asking a terrible sacrifice. You 
 can't help suffering. Don't criticize, Lucy, but 
 help me I need your help so much. I hope 
 you won't only come for my sake, but because 
 you feel it's right. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 You know how I love you, George. I'll do 
 anything even keep a shop to please you. But 
 don't ask me to believe in your views. It's hope- 
 less. I never shall. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Sadly.) Then we must make the best of it. 
 But I'm like Pilgrim fleeing from the City of 
 Destruction. I daren't look back. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Pilgrim left his wife and children, but nothing 
 shall ever make us part.
 
 THIS GENERATION 49 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 No, darling nothing, nothing ! (He walks a 
 step or two, then returns.} I've another bad 
 piece of news, though, thank Heaven, it doesn't 
 affect you much. Laura has run away from her 
 husband. It's better to tell you, because you may 
 hear it at any time. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Shocked.} Oh, George how horrible ! Why? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 They didn't get on. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 She's gone off alone? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Hastily.} No with young Learmouth. They 
 got very intimate going about together for social 
 work. She's made a fool of herself, because she 
 has got a false idea that sexual liberty is part of 
 the new morality. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Breaking out bitterly.} The new morality ! 
 It's all this Socialism this accursed Socialism ! 
 It's immoral, sinful, godless ! Every one knows 
 it destroys the family. It's turned her into a 
 wicked woman. 
 
 4
 
 50 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Warmly.) It's not true. It's not right to 
 say that. Homes are broken up in every rank 
 of life. It's vice, not Socialism. Socialism will 
 build with bricks of new virtue. But its founda- 
 tions rest on the old. Don't be uncharitable. We 
 must forgive poor Laura. 
 
 LUCY 
 
 I shouldn't wish to be hard on the wretched 
 woman. I suppose we shall never see her again. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I can't say. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Of course we can't receive her in future. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 " To know all is to pardon all." 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Not a life of open sin. 
 
 (She moves towards the door. He throws 
 himself into a chair and begins to refill 
 his pipe.) 
 
 END or THE FIRST ACT.
 
 THE SECOND ACT
 
 THE SECOND ACT 
 
 SCENE : The living-room behind the little shop 
 in Notting Hill is small and dark. Its 
 back window looks into a sunless court- 
 yard. On the left is the door to the 
 shop; on the right, the fireplace and 
 door to the kitchen. There is an unusual 
 air about the place suggesting cultivation 
 blended with poverty. The wallpaper is 
 shabby but is hung with the pictures from the 
 old home. There is a book- filled bookcase. 
 The tables are also covered with books as 
 well as half-finished art-frames, children's 
 toys, etc. Everything is perfectly neat, but 
 crowded together a little incongruously. The 
 statuette stands on the mantelshelf flanked by 
 old china, a tin of tobacco, pipes, and so on. 
 There are remnants from the old life a 
 couple of beautiful chairs and a French 
 table. A typewriter stands on a small table 
 in the window. Hats and coats are hanging 
 on pegs by the shop door. 
 
 (The hour is 8 a.m. LUCY, GEORGE'S 
 sister LAURA, and HAROLD and MILLIE 
 are seated at breakfast. LAURA is a 
 
 53
 
 54 THIS GENERATION 
 
 hard, sharp, capable, woman of about 
 twenty-five, who, feeling herself to be 
 one of the fittest to survive and conquer, 
 entirely enjoys the struggle for life. 
 The children aged ten and eight are 
 bright, pretty, and especially neatly and 
 suitably dressed. LUCY looks rather 
 pale and worn.) 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Entering from the shop and seating himself. 
 To his sister.) Good morning ! 
 
 (The children jump up, run round and kiss 
 him.) 
 
 MILLIE. 
 
 .Where's our Daily Mirror, daddy? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Here. (He hands it her. She returns to her 
 place and looks at it while she eats.) 
 
 MILLIE. 
 
 It's the most beautiful paper in England isn't 
 it, father? 
 
 HAROLD. 
 
 (Producing a sovereign.) Look what grand- 
 father gave me yesterday a pound !
 
 THIS GENERATION 55 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Let me keep it for you. 
 
 HAROLD. 
 
 (Alarmed.) He said I might spend it and 
 buy something for mother with half. He said you 
 don't give mother enough money. Why are you 
 so unkind ? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Because now we haven't got much. Spend it 
 all on mother there's a good boy. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 No, no, Harold. Mother wants nothing. We'll 
 spend half together and keep the rest. Would you 
 call Matilda? 
 
 (He goes to the kitchen door and calls 
 MATILDA. Then returns to his place.) 
 
 HAROLD. 
 
 Grandfather says he'll give me a big house 
 some day. He says you'll try to stop my having 
 it but you won't, daddy, will you? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Grandfather was only joking. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (To the servant entering.) When are we going 
 to have our tea ?
 
 56 THIS GENERATION 
 
 MATILDA. 
 
 (A young, not untidy servant.) The water 
 don't boil yet. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Why not? It's getting late. 
 
 MATILDA. 
 
 The fire wouldn't light. The sticks are damp. 
 You can't 'ave no tea yet. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (With the most cheerful resignation.) Then 
 we must make the best of it and do without. 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 Certainly not ! Bring in the kettle, Matilda 
 I'll boil it up on the spirit lamp. (MATILDA 
 goes.) 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I don't think we've got enough spirit. 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 Leave it to me. Matilda's a fool. (She rises, 
 gets out the spirit lamp, puts it on the hob and 
 lights it.) 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 She's very willing, but she's forgetful. We 
 may have to part with her.
 
 THIS GENERATION 57 
 
 HAROLD. 
 
 Why haven't we got much money? We used 
 to have lots. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I'll tell you when you're older, Harold. You 
 won't want much money then. 
 
 HAROLD. 
 
 Yes, I shall lots and lots. Mother says if I 
 make a great deal of money when I'm grown up, 
 I can have a motor six cylinders sixty horse- 
 power. 
 
 (The servant brings in the kettle.) 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Turning to his wife.) We may not be able to 
 afford a servant at all. My frames don't sell. 
 The shop hardly pays in spite of all the degrading 
 rot we stock, and our own literature doesn't go 
 off as well as I hoped. Which is the worst to 
 go bankrupt or sell comic postcards? (To his 
 sister.) How hopeless life is ! It was impossible to 
 be consistent and make a fortune in business, and 
 now it's impossible to be consistent and make any 
 money at all ! 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 You always were a theorist, George. March 
 for the Promised Land but rob the Egyptians 
 first ! Try actress and prizefighter photos.
 
 58 THIS GENERATION 
 
 HAROLD. 
 
 Oh, yes, daddy, do ! It'll make our shop 
 swanky. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Please don't use that horrible word. 
 
 HAROLD. 
 
 Why not? The other boys do. There's a 
 boy at school whose mother sings at a music- 
 hall. She's Miss Pansy Belgrave, and she's got 
 a boy and hasn't a husband. Isn't that funny ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Hastily.} He must be dead. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (To LAURA.) I seem to have no time for social 
 work, and I'm awfully keen on that. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I'm afraid, dear, I'm not strong enough to get 
 on without a servant. But I'm sure father would 
 pay for one gladly. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I won't touch a penny of his. I would sooner 
 go to the workhouse ! 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 That sounds all right. But what about your
 
 THIS GENERATION 59 
 
 wife and children? They've not been brought up 
 to rough it. 
 
 HAROLD. 
 
 I've spilt some butter on my " trawsers." 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Say " trousers." 
 
 HAROLD. 
 
 All the boys say " trawsers." 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Yes, but you're not a common little boy. You're 
 a little gentleman. 
 
 (She rises, and makes the tea.) 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Gently.) I thought we had dropped the word 
 "gentleman "? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I never shall. We need it more than ever. 
 The children must be helped to remember we're 
 not common tradespeople. The roof leaked again 
 last night in the children's room. It hasn't been 
 mended yet. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Warmly.) I've been twice to the landlord 
 about it. He promised to get it mended a month 
 ago, but nothing's been done.
 
 60 THIS GENERATION 
 
 LAUEA. 
 
 What can you expect of a landlord ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Flaring up.) What, indeed ! Landlord and 
 tenant vampire and victim ! Rent is the greatest 
 wrong of our social system. It's really the black- 
 mail we pay to Monopoly to spare our lives. 
 We must tax it out of existence. I'm glad that 
 we should have something to bear for one thing 
 we can realize better what the poor must endure. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Yes. But what about the leak? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 The kids must learn to put up with it. It will 
 be a lesson. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 We shall have them ill if we don't take care. 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 Get a sheet of zinc nail it over the place, 
 George, and keep your breath to cool your 
 porridge ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 They are looking pale already. They ought 
 to have meat for breakfast.
 
 THIS GENERATION 61 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 But, my dear, we've become vegetarians. We 
 can't possibly 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Interrupting.) I've ordered some bacon. 
 
 MILLIE. 
 
 (Shouts with delight.) Bacon nice bacon ! 
 We're going to have bacon ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 You and I may injure our health on principle, 
 but I can't allow the poor children to suffer. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (With real compunction.) But do take some 
 meat, dear, as well. I never dreamt that giving it 
 up wouldn't suit you. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Touched.) It's kind of you to say that, 
 George. I'll order some for myself and the 
 children. I'm afraid we need it. I suppose 
 it's the force of habit. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Tom hasn't had anything yet. (Calls.) Tom 
 Tom! 
 
 (TOM GWOTKIN, a aelicate, hectic, neurotic 
 youth, enters and seats himself, leaving 
 the door ajar.)
 
 62 THIS GENERATION 
 
 TOM. 
 
 A man's just come in and said he wanted his 
 morning paper left at his house. Several people 
 have spoken about it lately. 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 Of course ! You'd better take them round first 
 thing to-morrow. 
 
 TOM. 
 
 (Rather sulkily.} Can't you get a boy? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Can't afford one ! Besides, that sort of casual 
 labour for boys is demoralizing it leads to un- 
 employment. 
 
 TOM. 
 
 I thought when I came here I should help 
 to spread the Light you'd get me some writing in 
 one of our papers. I didn't come here as an 
 errand boy. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 There's one thing you yet have to learn, Tom, 
 and that's the dignity of labour. A true man 
 is never degraded by any work, so long as it's 
 useful. 
 
 TOM. 
 
 Even the booksellers didn't make me carry 
 parcels. I was behind the counter and that was
 
 THIS GENERATION 63 
 
 a Tory shop ! When we've made the State 
 master, my job'll be writing poetry and plays. 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 (Caustically.) Tempered, I hope, by some use- 
 ful work in the sewers ! 
 
 HAROLD. 
 
 I wonder if I shall get any fleas to-day? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Hush, dear, hush ! 
 
 HAROLD. 
 
 (Not to be repressed.) Millie got two fleas 
 yesterday. Mother caught 'em ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (With awful meaning.) They were not exactly 
 fleas ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Never mind. Treat it all as you would an 
 unpleasant practical joke. (To the children.) 
 Most poor children haven't got a good mother 
 like yours. You must set an example. That's 
 one of the reasons I send you to school. If clean 
 children go to school, the dirty children may 
 want to be clean as well. 
 
 MILLIE. 
 
 But I hate dirty children. Rosey Perkins looks
 
 64 THIS GENERATION 
 
 so funny. She's had her head shaved. Why did 
 her mother do it? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Perhaps her head was poorly. (Bitterly.) 
 Your head may have to be shaved in a day 
 or two. 
 
 HAROLD. 
 
 (Cheered at the prospect.) You'll look like a 
 funny old man, Millie ! It'll make the boys bust 
 with laughing. 
 
 MILLIE. 
 
 (Bursts out in horror.) I won't have it shaved ! 
 I won't have it shaved ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Hush ! (Rising.) It's time you were off to 
 school, children. (Goes to the kitchen door and 
 calls.) Matilda, you can clear away. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Rising.) Is it schooltime yet? 
 
 (The maid enters with a tray. LAURA rises, 
 carries her cup to the typewriting- 
 table and begins to work. The click 
 of the machine is heard continuously. 
 LUCY helps the children to collect their 
 books and get ready. TOM remains 
 seated.)
 
 THIS GENERATION 65 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 They mustn't miss their Bible lesson. 
 
 TOM. 
 
 (Grumbling, sarcastic.} You can't say I've 
 wasted time over breakfast ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I hope you've had enough, Tom? 
 
 TOM. 
 
 Enough for an errand boy ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (To the children.} All right. Run away. Be 
 good children, and learn as much as you can at the 
 Scripture class. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 That'll please mother and father more than 
 anything. 
 
 (She kisses them as they run out.) 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 (To GEORGE.) I'm so glad you said what you 
 did about the Bible lesson. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Children are better for some religion. It gives 
 their imagination a standard before reason is 
 developed. 
 
 5
 
 66 THIS GENERATION 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Distressed.) Oh, George, how can you talk 
 like that ! I couldn't bear the vexations of life 
 for a day if it wasn't for religion and prayer. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (In a low voice to LUCY. They are standing 
 by the fireplace.} I know, dear. Don't think I 
 ever sneer at your faith. I wish I could share it. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 You will some day, George, if my prayers are 
 answered . 
 
 (The shop bell rings. GEORGE and TOM 
 go into the shop.) 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (To the maid who has loaded the tray.) I'll 
 come and help you to wash up. 
 
 (They go out together.) 
 
 (GEORGE returns with an armful of morning 
 papers, which he proceeds to arrange.) 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Poor Lucy ! I'm quite concerned about her. 
 She's not looking the thing at all. I'm afraid she's 
 not fitted for our life. 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 (Typing all the time.) Absolutely unfitted !
 
 THIS GENERATION 67 
 
 She was brought up in a self-indulgent home 
 never taught to do anything useful. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Nettled.} She naturally wasn't brought up 
 to this kind of thing. She was brought up as a 
 lady, and I'm glad of it. She can't, of course, 
 see things from my point of view at present. 
 That makes her sacrifice all the finer. She's 
 worried about the children just now. So am I. 
 With our principles, a Council School ought to be 
 the right thing till the State provides a better. 
 But somehow it's disappointing. 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 Children are always a stumbling-block. That's 
 why we didn't have any. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (A little shocked protesting.) But the 
 family is the foundation of everything. We 
 always declare it's a libel to say that Socialism 
 destroys the family. 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 It's the family that keeps up the feudal abuses. 
 It stands in the way of progress. It's obstruc- 
 tive. It doesn't work nowadays. It will have to 
 be readjusted or limited. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 A house is so desolate without children. You
 
 68 THIS GENERATION 
 
 can hardly call it a home. They bring worry, 
 anxiety, even sorrow, but the happiness swallows 
 up all that. Doesn't love bring children and 
 children love ? 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 You're just a romantic man, George ! Your 
 ideas about women are twenty years behind the 
 times. You're still Oriental. We've done with 
 being cherished and cosited. All that coddling 
 that some women fish for is really prostitution. 
 We have so much outside work nowadays : the 
 maternal instinct is weakening. We mistrust the 
 idea of babies. They hamper our usefulness. 
 How can a woman be a pioneer with a lot of 
 brats hanging round her? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 But if the race is to be improved the best 
 must multiply faster than the worst. Science is 
 clear on that. 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 (With decisive emphasis.) If the good of the 
 human race depends on the subjection of women 
 and it possibly may then all I can say is, 
 " damn the race ! " 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 You don't know what you're talking about ! 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 Perfectly ! It's you who won't understand that
 
 THIS GENERATION 69 
 
 our views on sex are progressive. Lots of us 
 are sick of the thraldom of marriage the drudgery 
 of motherhood. We're refusing to turn ourselves 
 into breeding -machines to please any man. If 
 we wish to have children, we'll have them ; and 
 if not not ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Open-mouthed.) My dear Laura ! Without 
 consulting your husbands? 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 Don't be silly ! (She stops typing.) As for 
 you and Lucy you're opposite characters, and 
 your views are absolutely opposed. You'll never 
 be happy together. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 What do you mean? 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 What I say. (Resuming her work.) Charles 
 and I never got on, so we both thought it better 
 that I should go off with Learmouth. Learmouth 
 and I found our lives didn't fit I had to live in 
 town and he wanted the country so we parted 
 by mutual consent, and I came here. There was 
 no romance, or sex problem, or bitterness on 
 any one's part. We all agree with the New 
 Moral Law. Love is the only warrant for 
 cohabitation .
 
 70 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (With indignation.) Your attitude's cold- 
 blooded and shameless enough in all conscience ! 
 
 LAURA.. 
 
 (Unruffled.) Exactly ! Jealousy like war 
 is merely a savage survival. We three behaved 
 like rational beings not savages and so are per- 
 fectly happy. Don't be sentimental. You and 
 Lucy would both be far happier if you separated. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Furious.) How dare you say that ! We're 
 devoted t,o each other Lucy and I ! (He can 
 hardly find words for his indignation.) Why we 
 we love each other with a love you couldn't 
 conceive, much less understand ! If we ever seem 
 to differ or differ it's all my fault. I dare say 
 I made the change too abruptly. Nature works 
 slowly by degrees and so should we. 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 (Quite calm.) Well, don't forget my advice. 
 You'll never be happy together, and the sooner 
 you separate the better. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Please keep your advice till it's asked for ! . . . 
 You know nothing about us.
 
 THIS GENERATION 71 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 (Rising.) I've an article to take down to the 
 office. (Unhanging her hat.) The Daily Phone 
 people mean to keep me busy. 
 
 (She goes out. GEORGE follows with papers, 
 but returns at once. After a moment 
 LUCY enters.) 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Has she gone? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 Yes. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I heard her stop. The clatter of that machine 
 almost drives me mad. 
 
 (She moves about tidying the place as she 
 talks.) 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (With concern.) I'm sorry, dear ; you're not 
 feeling fit. Don't overwork yourself. Let Matilda 
 do more. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 My stupid nerves are getting affected, I think. 
 It's not the work, it's the life. 

 
 72 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEOEGE. 
 
 That ought to be healthy enough. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 It's difficult to put it exactly into words. I 
 seem to disapprove of so many of your ideas. I 
 lie awake at night thinking and thinking and 
 trying to persuade myself that it's I who am in 
 the wrong. But I can't ! After all, we're made 
 by our upbringing, and I can't believe that this 
 is a good life for any of us. I'm sure it's not 
 good for the children. 
 
 GEOEGE. 
 
 Poor dear ! (Kisses her.) Don't worry about 
 it all just now. Have faith. You'll look at things 
 differently after a bit. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 No, George never ! (A moment's hesitation, 
 then firmly.) We can't go on like this. 
 
 GEOEGE. 
 
 We can if we're brave. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 No ! It's time I spoke out. There are several 
 things I want to talk over. I've put it off from 
 day to day, George, because I didn't wish to 
 hurt your feelings.
 
 THIS GENERATION 73 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 No fear of that, dear. There must never be 
 anything between you and me. 
 
 (A little apprehensive, he nervously fills his 
 pipe. LUCY, also nervous and appre- 
 hensive, speaks with hesitation through- 
 out.) 
 LUCY. 
 
 Need Tom have all his meals with us? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I pay him starvation wages. I can't afford 
 better ones. It's more economical. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 It crowds up the room so. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I'm trying to get him a place at the Working 
 Men's Club. That'll solve the difficulty. (Lights 
 his pipe.) 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 And need Laura live with us? She's not 
 
 (Confused.) Well ! think of her past. Her influ- 
 ence isn't good for the children. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I know what you mean. I agree with you. 
 But we must have her here to help pay the rent.
 
 74 THIS GENERATION 
 
 (Puffing at his pipe.} Everything comes back 
 at last to the question of rent. Rent ! It's our 
 Moloch ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (With a little sigh.) Very well. She'll have 
 to stay, I suppose. But it's not right. Her being 
 here is one of the things I most disapprove of. 
 If it's a question of rent, father would gladly 
 help us. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I've just told you I won't touch a penny of 
 his. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Then you put your pride before saving our 
 children from contamination? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 We should seek the larger charity that hates 
 the sin but pardons the sinner. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 You should think of your wife and children, 
 too. You seem always prepared to sacrifice them. 
 
 TOM. 
 
 (Entering from the shop.) The month's maga- 
 zines have come in.
 
 THIS GENERATION 75 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Then take them round. Leave the door ajar. 
 I shall hear if any one comes in. 
 
 (TOM goes.) 
 LUCY. 
 
 I want to speak to you about the children's 
 school. (Summoning up courage.} They really 
 mustn't stay on there. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Speaking with extreme conciliation.} I'm 
 sometimes tempted to feel that myself. But when 
 I am, I ask myself, " Don't we let little things 
 jar on us too easily? Aren't we over -fastidious? " 
 State schools for all classes answer in Germany. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 This isn't Germany yet ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Putting his case as gently as possible.} The 
 essence of our faith is cheerful self-sacrifice. 
 Ought we to run away as soon as we're put to 
 the test? We mustn't be selfish about our kids. 
 We must think of the larger issues. If more 
 people did what we're doing, the whole tone of 
 the schools would be raised. Some one must set 
 an example. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I'm giving up everything for you.
 
 76 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Touching her affectionately on the shoulder.") 
 My darling ! I wish you could say, " Not for 
 me, but for conscience' sake." 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 No for you ! But I won't allow Harold and 
 Millie to be injured. (After a moment's hesita- 
 tion.} I saw father yesterday. He's coming 
 round this morning to speak to you about it. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (With controlled indignation.) I shall not dis- 
 cuss the matter with your father. I allow no man 
 to come between me and my children. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Firmly.) You forget they're my children as 
 much as yours ! Haven't you always said it's a 
 proof of the infamous degradation of women that 
 the law should only acknowledge the father's 
 right ? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Yes I've always said that ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 And that the children belong to each parent 
 equally, or, if there were a difference, the mother's 
 natural rights are greater than his?
 
 THIS GENERATION 77 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I may have said so. It's possible. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (With maternal fervour.) You did ! Well, 
 my children are going to proper schools, and 
 father's going to send them. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Roused.) I can't allow that ! How can I 
 bring up my children consistently if you thwart 
 me at every turn? What I believe in, I hope to 
 teach them to believe and practise. I want them 
 to learn to forget self and live for others. I'm 
 going to train them at home. I disapprove of 
 boarding schools. (Compromising.) I don't say, 
 if we could afford it, I mightn't send them to a 
 co -educational school when they're older. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Decisively.) That, at least, I could never 
 sanction. The truth is, we can't have them 
 brought up here in a little shop as though we 
 were really shopkeeping people. That I'm 
 determined ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (With extreme bitterness.) Then we're only 
 playing at this, I suppose?
 
 78 THIS GENERATION 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Why, of course ! 
 
 (The shop bell rings. GEORGE goes to the 
 door and ushers in MR. HARBURN, who 
 kisses his daughter. He is a large, red- 
 faced, prosperous City financier not 
 exactly pompous, but weighted by suc- 
 cessful experience not a tyrant, but 
 accustomed to receive obedience. As the 
 sentiments he expresses have worldly 
 wisdom and common sense, he is not 
 accustomed to be contradicted. In a 
 word, he is one of those powerful men 
 who have made England what she is.) 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Perhaps you would like to see George alone? 
 
 HARBURN. 
 
 I should. 
 
 (LuCY goes out.) 
 
 (HARBURN takes a seat. His manner is 
 quite friendly, and, at first, patient. It 
 suggests the manner of a kindly person- 
 age dealing with a man who is not quite 
 sane.) 
 
 HARBURN. 
 
 I've come to speak to you about Harold and 
 Millie. What nice children they are to be sure !
 
 THIS GENERATION 79 
 
 I'm very fond of 'em. I know you can't afford 
 anything better than a Board School, so I've come 
 to make you an offer. I'm prepared to give 'em 
 a first -class education one which will fit 'em 
 for their station in life. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Their father has no " station in life," as you 
 call it. 
 
 HARBURN. 
 
 More shame to him ! But their mother has, and 
 means her children to keep it. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (With cold politeness.) It's very good of you. 
 I regret that I must decline your generous offer. 
 
 HARBURN. 
 
 (Persuasively.) Come, be reasonable use a 
 little common sense ! I quite appreciate your love 
 of reform. I'm a Liberal myself I once was a 
 Radical. But is it fair to the children not to 
 give 'em every advantage? There's nothing like 
 a good education to help 'em to make their way 
 in the world. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I don't want them to "make their way in the 
 world."
 
 80 THIS GENERATION 
 
 HARBUKN. 
 
 May I ask why? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I'm afraid if I explained you would hardly 
 understand. You're a rich banker and I'm an 
 idealist. (With the eloquence of a pure 
 enthusiast.) You look on the world as a prize- 
 ring in which the battle of life is fought, where 
 victory means wealth at others' expense and 
 defeat means going under. While I look on the 
 world as a social organism, just emerging from 
 chaos, where wealth will be love not capital ; 
 and all men brothers not rivals. Where the weak 
 will be helped the strong be the helpers. And 
 the victorious those who do most good to their 
 fellows. That is my gospel ! It used to be 
 called Christianity. It failed. Now it's called 
 Socialism, and is marching on conquering, and 
 to conquer ! I mean to train up my children to 
 follow it. 
 
 HARBURN. 
 
 (Still patient.) Very nice very nice, indeed ! 
 But not practical. (Meaning to be jocose.) I 
 think "the great success of your business must 
 have been wholly due to your partners' push. 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 It was. I always tried to check it.
 
 THIS GENERATION 81 
 
 HARBURN. 
 
 (Grave once more.) The prosperity of the 
 country depends on push. It's you people who 
 make the unemployed. You know how shocked I 
 was when you threw up your prospects. It was 
 the act of a madman. (Pause.) Forgive my 
 asking if you are a Believer? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I am in the future of humanity ! 
 
 HARBURN. 
 
 (Much shocked.) Then don't compare your 
 so-called gospel with our Christianity. We owe 
 our whole civilization under Providence to 
 Christianity and the spirit of rational progress. 
 Socialism is becoming a pest that will have to 
 be put down with a high hand. It's getting 
 into the Press and the pulpit. I'm told it's even got 
 into the theatre. But I don't intend to have my 
 grandchildren poisoned do you hear ! (Getting 
 angry.) You may wish to have their future 
 ruined to suit your craze, but their mother and 
 I have made up our minds to stop it. A poor 
 little shop in a slum is no place for my grand- 
 children . 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (With extreme self -repression.) I've said all 
 I've got to say. 
 
 6
 
 82 THIS GENERATION 
 
 HARBUEN. 
 
 (Rising and flaring up.) You're ruining your 
 wife's health as well. I was shocked to see her 
 yesterday. She's too loyal to you to complain. 
 But I pumped it out of her. You're starving 
 them all. I suppose that's one of your 
 beautiful principles ; I suppose it's to teach 'em 
 some brand-new form of self-sacrifice. But I'm 
 her father, and I'm going to save her before you 
 kill her with cranky bigotry. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Breaking out.) You're her father and so I 
 take more from you than I would from another 
 man. But after what you've said, I shan't stoop 
 to exonerate myself. As far as I am concerned, 
 I've nothing more to add. (Sternly.) But be 
 careful ! I love my wife and children too much 
 to allow such lies to be told about them. You will 
 repeat them at your peril ! 
 
 HARBURN. 
 
 There's no need to repeat anything here. One 
 is never grounded for lack of scandalous matter 
 in this house ! It's no place for a decent woman. 
 I know all about your shameless sister. If you 
 care nothing for the purity of your home if 
 you've no decent respect for your wife and children 
 I have ! (Presenting his ultimatum.) They 
 are going to leave you and coming to live with me.
 
 THIS GENERATION 83 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 You don't know Lucy. She's all love and faith. 
 She'd never desert me. Her home is here. 
 
 HARBURN. 
 
 We discussed it yesterday. She feels her first 
 duty just now is to poor dear Harold and Millie. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 She's a free agent ! She can do what she 
 likes. But I'll never believe it. We'll ask her. 
 
 (He goes to the door and calls LUCY. In 
 a moment she enters, paler than ever.) 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Speaking quite calmly and kindly, but with 
 extreme distinctness.) Your father has offered 
 to educate the children. . . . I've told him my 
 views. . . . He says you wish to leave me and 
 take them with you. . . . I've told him that he 
 is mistaken he doesn't know you. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (In a concentrated voice.) If I stay with you 
 will you let him educate them, and send Harold 
 to a public school? 
 
 HARBURN. 
 
 (With unction.) Eton or Harrow ! Eton or 
 Harrow !
 
 84 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEORGE. 
 No. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 But they must have a decent education they 
 must leave the school and this slum. I'm going 
 to put my foot down. You always said a wife 
 should be economically independent. Now you'll 
 have your wish. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 And you won't let me train them as I believe 
 right ? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 You're not (Hesitates.) I can't. It would 
 
 be wrong. It would be a sin. I can't sacrifice 
 them. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (In a strange, new voice.) Then you'd better 
 take them and go. They're legally mine, but 
 morally they belong to both of us equally I 
 acknowledge that. You can take them if that's 
 what your conscience tells you is right and go 
 . . . and go ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Taken aback at the ultimatum.) But only for 
 a visit a long visit.
 
 THIS GENERATION 85 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 No, for ever ! . . . I'm disappointed in you. 
 
 HARBURN. 
 
 (A little flustered and only too anxious to 
 escape.) There ! There ! Then that's all settled. 
 You better come to-morrow. (Looking round.) 
 Nice and snug little room you've got here, to be 
 sure. Good -morning. 
 
 (He hurries out, kissing his daughter. 
 GEORGE sees him to the door and 
 returns. LUCY stands motionless. 
 They look at each other for a moment 
 and neither speaks.) 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 The fire needs some coals. 
 
 (GEORGE fetches a coal-scuttle from the next 
 room and stokes up the fire, then seats 
 himself and buries his head in his hands. 
 LUCY suddenly comes to him, pauses, 
 then touches his shoulder timidly.) 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 George . . . you couldn't have meant what you 
 said " for ever "? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Looking up.) I did.
 
 86 THIS GENERATION 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Catching hold of him and bursting into tears.} 
 Oh, George . . . and I love you so ... you've 
 broken my heart ! 
 
 GEOKGE. 
 
 And my own. But it's better so. Our paths 
 go opposite ways. We should never agree about 
 anything. (With the saddest voice.) But I 
 thought we should always cling together. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 So did I. ... I want to do right . . . but 
 it's hard ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 So hard ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Who'll look after you when I go? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Laura, I suppose. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 You won't like that. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I shall be so wretched nothing will matter then.
 
 THIS GENERATION 87 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Perhaps some day you'll change your views 
 just a little ? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 Never ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 The hope of winning you hack has kept me 
 alive . 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I might say the same. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Mayn't I hope 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 No ! Give it up ; we shall never convert each 
 other . 
 
 (The shop bell rings. GEORGE goes into 
 the shop.} 
 
 GEORGE'S VOICE. 
 
 No, we haven't got Society Scandal. We don't 
 stock it. We could get you a copy. 
 
 A VOICE. 
 No, thanks. 
 
 GEORGE'S VOICE. 
 
 Would you care to look at our picture -frames?
 
 88 THIS GENERATION 
 
 A VOICE. 
 
 No. Do you keep Turf Tip cigarettes? 
 
 GEORGE'S VOICE. 
 No. 
 
 A VOICE. 
 
 Have you any Bluejackets ? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 No. 
 
 A VOICE. 
 
 What sorts do you sell? 
 
 GEORGE'S VOICE. 
 None at present. 
 
 A VOICE. 
 
 Then you ought to. 
 
 GEORGE'S VOICE. 
 
 You can get them two doors lower down. 
 
 (LucY stands motionless all the time.) 
 
 END OF THE SECOND ACT.
 
 THE THIRD ACT
 
 THE THIRD ACT 
 
 SCENE : The large hall of a (non-political) 
 Working Men's Club at Fulham. There is 
 a small stage at the end of the room, 
 brilliantly lit. A loan collection of paintings 
 is hung on the walls. It is a " ladies' night," 
 and there is a good-sized gathering of mem- 
 bers and their friends. They are mostly 
 working men, and a few have brought their 
 wives and girls. There is a sprinkling of 
 West End people " who have come as ' an 
 experience,' or with a laudable desire to 
 encourage the cause.") 
 
 (They are all seated facing the stage. There 
 are, however, a few little tables at this 
 end of the hall, at one of which BAXTER 
 and DICKINSON have chairs.) 
 
 (GEORGE is discovered standing on the stage 
 and delivering a discourse on Brother- 
 hood. He speaks with warm fervour, as 
 one who has a message to deliver.) 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 It is an utter mistake to say human nature 
 doesn't change. It is fluid always adapting itself 
 
 91
 
 92 THIS GENERATION 
 
 to new conditions with imperceptible fluctuations. 
 So that as the human race marches towards per- 
 fection, it will share in the gentle purification, 
 till at last it transforms mankind, and is trans- 
 figured . 
 
 When that day comes there will be no wars 
 because there are no soldiers no poverty because 
 there are no riches no servitude because there 
 are no masters and scarce any vice or crime 
 because we shall have trained men to be men, 
 not criminals ! In human nature lies the secret 
 of our faith, with its promise of universal happi- 
 ness and reconciliation. 
 
 (Murmurs of assent.) 
 
 This isn't a set speech, still less a sermon. 
 It's just a simple talk on Brotherhood. Don't 
 let us be tempted to sit still with folded hands 
 dreaming of the good time coming, when the 
 present idea of " I " and " mine " will have 
 merged into "we" and "ours." What can we 
 do at present now to help on this glorious re- 
 birth? We can influence our neighbours by our 
 own fidelity. We can set an example of strenuous 
 service and loving endeavour. No day should 
 pass without its quiet self-sacrifice its little 
 kindnesses and thought for others. 
 
 Rivalry, Enmity that spawn of Capital and 
 Competition will pass away when we have slain 
 their monstrous parents. Then, and not till then, 
 will warfare cease and mankind be knit together 
 in brotherhood.
 
 THIS GENERATION 93 
 
 Meanwhile, let us at least make a beginning. 
 We can be brotherly to all. (A Voice: 
 "Rothschild?") Yes, to Lord Rothschild. And 
 like chivalrous comrades give our fellows the 
 benefit of the doubt do a good turn hold out the 
 helping hand. 
 
 Great changes come slowly. Perhaps none of 
 us may live to see the Earthly Paradise. But you 
 and I, meantime, can gladden and sustain the 
 hearts around us. So that through us the grey, 
 tired world may have more love and laughter, 
 friendship and rest, and health and beauty, and 
 at last lie down in peace. 
 
 (Applause.) 
 
 Let each one of us see that he, at least, is con- 
 sistent. Don't let us be depressed. Never be 
 filled with " the terrible doubt of appearances." 
 Say rather with Whitman : 
 
 " I see reminiscent to-day those Greeks and 
 Germanic systems, 
 
 See the philosophers all, Christian Churches 
 and tenets, see, 
 
 Yet underneath Socrates clearly see, and under- 
 neath Christ the Divine, I see 
 
 The dear love of man for his comrade, the 
 attraction of friend to friend, 
 
 Of the well -married husband and wife, of 
 children and parents, 
 
 Of city for city and land for land." 
 
 (He comes down. There are murmurs of
 
 94 THIS GENERATION 
 
 approval and applause. One or two 
 shake him by the hand.} 
 
 (A keen young CLEKGYMAN springs to his 
 feet. He speaks in a trained voice, 
 fluently.) 
 
 CLERGYMAN. 
 
 I want to propose a vote of thanks to our 
 friend for his beautiful address. It's this splended 
 faith of his in the brotherhood of men no matter 
 their station, or nation, or colour, or creed which 
 has made me a Christian Socialist. I know poli- 
 tics are forbidden here. But I must add this : 
 I work in a poor London parish, and when I see 
 the sin and poverty, the shame and wretchedness 
 festering there not due, mind you, so much to the 
 depravity of the victims as to the economic condi- 
 tions of the very society which condemns them 
 then I say, " This must be ended ! " The cruel 
 shores of to-day are strewn with human wreckage. 
 We send out lifeboats now. But that isn't enough. 
 We must provide first-class ships for every man's 
 life -voyage. If the Laws of Economics say 
 " Impossible," if they come in impious conflict 
 with the biddings of Divine law they'll have 
 to go. 
 
 (Applause.) 
 
 The world has been ruled long enough by 
 Economists. It must be ruled in future by the 
 Law of God. It will never be happy till it
 
 THIS GENERATION 95 
 
 seeks to be reconciled to Him, and submits itself 
 to His loving guidance. 
 
 (Applause.) 
 
 (He sits down, and a WORKING MAN rises, 
 who speaks uncouthly, with hesitation, 
 but with extreme emphasis.) 
 
 WORKING MAN. 
 
 I should like to second that. Our friend has 
 been talking about brotherhood being universal. 
 I'll be brother to any man even a duke if he 
 gives me my rights. But as long as he keeps 
 me out of them I'm his enemy. I say that 
 plain ! r 
 
 (Loud applause . ) 
 
 We don't talk politics here I know that ! (A 
 Voice: " Why drag 'em in, then? ") I don't ! It 
 isn't politics it's better than politics it's sense 
 when I ask you who makes the wealth of the 
 country? We do we working-men ! Have we 
 got it ? Not likely ! I'll tell you what capital 
 is ! It's the honey that labour stores up. The 
 rich have stolen our hives. But we're going to 
 get 'em back soon, and have a lick of sweetness 
 ourselves. 
 
 (He sits down amid immense applause.) 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I thank our friends for the kind way they've 
 spoken about my faith. (Playfully.) The last
 
 96 THIS GENERATION 
 
 speaker is only a half-timer now. We'll make 
 him join our Union soon. 
 
 (Laughter.) 
 
 I should like to add this. Men are too much 
 afraid of speaking out their true thoughts for 
 fear of being considered quixotic, or hackneyed, 
 perhaps, or priggish. Don't let us hesitate to 
 be sincere and simple. Fear paradox, not plati- 
 tude. The thing we ought most to mistrust is 
 brilliant banter ! Why don't we show more 
 loving-kindness, more charity, to the world 
 and to each other? We must if Socialism is 
 ever to conquer I 
 
 (He sits down.) 
 BAXTER. 
 
 (To DICKINSON still seated at the table.) 
 That's a nasty one for some of our friends. (Calls 
 to a WAITEE-BOY who is passing.) Boy, bring 
 me some cocoa. (To DICKINSON.) You'll have 
 a cup? (To BOY.) Another! 
 
 (The BOY goes. The WORKMAN who has 
 spoken joins another man at the next 
 table. They talk together, ivhile the 
 other couple are also conversing.) 
 
 CHAIRMAN. 
 
 (Rising and announcing.) Two of our younger 
 members will now give us an exhibition of the 
 noble art of self-defence. 
 
 (Two LADS take off their overcoats and go
 
 THIS GENERATION 97 
 
 upon the stage stripped to the usual 
 costume. Their backers follow. A 
 boxing match takes place.) 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (Not watching the stage.) He spoke well, don't 
 you think? 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Not bad at all ! I liked it. It's not business, 
 of course. But that kind of R/uskinian rhetoric 
 is valuable in its way it stimulates ! His views 
 are too extreme for me. That idea of a shop was 
 fine, though it was bound to be a failure. Evolu- 
 tion works in social institutions, as it works in 
 Nature. A policy of upheaval does more harm 
 than good it disappoints ! Still, I must say 
 he lives up to what he preaches, which few of 
 us do. We're filled with schemes for spending the 
 money of our richer neighbours. But, I've 
 noticed, we're not so fond of yielding our own. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Most of us have so little to yield. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 He's doing splended work, and become quite 
 a leader. Have you seen the paper he's started 
 since you've been away The Torch? It's creating 
 quite a sensation . 
 
 7
 
 98 THIS GENERATION 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 I think at last we're saturating all classes with 
 our ideas. Why, you even find smart women 
 going round in motors and chattering about incre- 
 ment and the death of laissez-faire. 
 
 (The cocoa comes.} 
 BAXTER. 
 
 We've captured the Unions and the Labour 
 Party. It won't be long before we've gripped 
 the whole machinery of government. My only 
 fear is, we're going too fast. It would be dis- 
 astrous to dislocate the whole framework of 
 society too suddenly. That is why we mustn't 
 try to abolish Capital. It will gradually dry up 
 under the warmth of our taxation. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (Lightly.) It's rather humorous, isn't it, 
 watching the two parties drift to their doom, while 
 we, " with smiling jaws, welcome the little fishes 
 in"? 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Yes. The Tories are played out and done 
 for. Tariff Reform is their death-rattle. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 As for our dear friends the Liberal enemy- 
 it's not that they're hypocritical they're super- 
 annuated. So long as they can spout the old
 
 THIS GENERATION 99 
 
 catch -words and sport the old trade -marks, they're 
 too cock-a-hoop to see the plank they're walking. 
 And they've got happy capitalists among them 
 still it's amazing ! 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 They haven't even the wits to see the irony of 
 trotting out their silly old cackle Peace 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (Interrupting.) With their naval expenditure ! 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 " Retrenchment " 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 With their jolly Budgets ! 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 " Reform " ! 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 When they don't in the least know what they 
 want. 
 
 (The CLERGYMAN and one of the Committee 
 are wandering around, engaged in an 
 animated conversation.) 
 
 CLERGYMAN. 
 
 It's the Unemployed Question that is unbearable 
 it's heart-rending !
 
 100 THIS GENERATION 
 
 COMMITTEEMAN. 
 
 But, my dear sir if you abolish all the rich, 
 there'll be more unemployed than ever. 
 
 CLERGYMAN. 
 
 That's a stale fallacy. The State must keep 
 them and decently, too ! 
 
 COMMITTEEMAN. 
 
 But where's the money to come from? 
 
 CLERGYMAN. 
 
 When the State's resumed possession of the 
 land, and buildings, and wealth of the country, 
 there'll be more than enough to go round. 
 
 COMMITTEEMAN. 
 
 (Waxing warm.) But capital's fluid, and 
 wealth is continually being destroyed, and has 
 to be reproduced or it melts away. 
 
 CLERGYMAN. 
 
 (Eagerly.) Ah, now you're talking like a 
 Political Economist. We don't argue with False 
 Prophets of Baal we overwhelm them. 
 
 COMMITTEEMAN. 
 
 (Good-naturedly.) Come and look at the 
 pictures. They're a loan collection the best 
 modern work. 
 
 (They move off.) 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 What do you think of Votes for Women?
 
 THIS GENERATION 101 
 
 BAXTEK. 
 
 I suppose it'll come. I advocate it because 
 I don't think it can harm us. Women are all 
 right, unless they're ratepayers or property - 
 holders. And those are fish we shan't even have 
 to swallow. The other fish will have eaten 'em 
 first. 
 
 SECOND WORKMAN. 
 
 (Talking to his friend at the table.) I've been 
 a Liberal all my life, and good old Gladstone's 
 good enough for me. 
 
 FIRST WORKMAN. 
 
 He ain't a patch on Lloyd George. He never 
 told us we was as good as dukes. 
 
 SECOND WORKMAN. 
 
 He was a sly old hand, he was ! If he'd lived 
 till now he'd have showed you you was better 
 than dukes. He'd have abolished 'em long ago. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Democracy's played out, of course. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 But keep the word ! People have always con- 
 fused words with things Plato pointed that out 
 and they're much more frightened by names than 
 facts. That's why I never say "Socialist" if
 
 102 THIS GENERATION 
 
 I can use " Progressive." The word's much safer 
 
 it lulls ! 
 
 (A fashionably dressed woman in semi- 
 evening dress comes down the room, 
 attended by the COMMITTEEMAN. She 
 turns to the WAITER-BOY.) 
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 Would you kindly call my motor Lady 
 Dorothy Clarage's motor ! 
 
 (The BOY goes. She turns rather gushingly 
 to her companion.) 
 
 Thank you so much for such a charming even- 
 ing. How quaint and delightful everything is ! 
 I'm not surprised that Mr. Wells is an optimist. 
 What a sad story about that tobacconist man and 
 his tiresome wife so silly of her, I think ! Why, 
 I should simply love to tuck into a cosy little 
 shop. I've always longed to camp in a slum ! 
 (To the BOY, returning.) The motor thanks ! 
 Good -night. 
 
 (She goes.) 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Think of the children's physique and their 
 stunted sense of beauty. The State should put up 
 a life-sized statue of a Greek athlete in every 
 school in the kingdom. It would be a model for 
 the children to live up to. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 A little premature, I'm afraid ! They'd better 
 look at the children's bodies first !
 
 THIS GENERATION 103 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 It would give the poor things a whiff of Greece 
 at any rate. 
 
 FIRST WORKMAN. 
 
 I ain't a peace -at -any-price man. But a 
 bloated fleet is bluster it's kept up so that the 
 aristocracy can bully peaceful neighbours. I hate 
 all this militarism and patriotic rot. I'm agin' the 
 Territorials . 
 
 SECOND WORKMAN. 
 
 I dun' know ! We must have something, I 
 s'pose. They ain't too military to look at. I'm 
 not afraid of their shooting too straight. 
 
 FIRST WORKMAN. 
 
 (With sly acuteness.) Ah ! it's the officers. 
 They want what they call " discipline." It's their 
 name for swank. We won't 'ave it. We'll 'ave 
 a people's army who'll elect their own officers from 
 among themselves. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 I haven't seen Tremayne since I came back 
 from America. Has he got his sister with him 
 still ? 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 No, they didn't get on. I think she found that 
 after all " her soul's adventures among master- 
 pieces," it was better to live alone.
 
 104 THIS GENERATION 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Unfortunate affair that was with the wife ! I 
 always thought she'd stick to him. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 She wanted the ordinary thing, of course three 
 sitting-rooms, a cheque-book, and church on 
 Sunday ! She didn't mean her boy to be brought 
 up as John the Baptist. Now her father's 
 dead, and she's got all the money, she's awfully 
 anxious to make it up. Between ourselves, my 
 wife's bringing her here to-night. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 You don't say so ! 
 
 BAXTEK. 
 
 I shouldn't think it will come to much. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 I don't know. It's a pretty problem. As 
 far as talk goes, we're all consistent, of course ! 
 But when it comes to living the life, the old, 
 inherited, social forces are awfully strong. George 
 is half conscience, the other half instinct ; and 
 he's very fond of her. 
 
 (GEORGE strolls up and greets them.) 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (To DICKINSON.) How are you, Dickey? I 
 haven't seen you since you got back from America. 
 How did you like it?
 
 THIS GENERATION 105 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Not much ! They've no idea of Collectivism 
 there. It's all hustle and grab. As for the 
 " larger latitude " in life and art, they're early 
 Christian simply early Christian. Their 
 prudishness is positively pre -Renaissance ! 
 They'd hardly look at my work. They wanted 
 to put a fig-leaf on my statue ! (With a change 
 of voice.) And how are you getting on? How's 
 the shop ? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I gave it up. It seemed to me I was doing 
 as much harm as ever, in a more subtle way, by 
 selling the halfpenny Press corrupting minds 
 instead of bodies ! Even then I couldn't make 
 the place pay without every sort of rubbish. 
 (With a touch of ironic humour.) It nearly 
 came to my having to sell our cigarettes again 
 this time retail, at a penny a packet ! So now 
 I'm devoting my time to public work writing 
 and speaking. (He calls.) Boy, a cup of coffee ! 
 
 FIRST WORKMAN. 
 
 What we've got to do is to keep on striking 
 for shorter hours, and then strike for higher wages. 
 
 SECOND WORKMAN. 
 
 Ain't we doing that now?
 
 106 THIS GENERATION 
 
 FIRST WORKMAN. 
 
 Too timid ! You'll never get something for 
 nothing at that rate. Arbitration's all rot unless 
 it's fair. 
 
 SECOND WORKMAN. 
 
 You mean goes our way. 
 
 FIRST WORKMAN. 
 
 Of course ! The bosses must give in, anyhow. 
 
 SECOND WORKMAN. 
 
 Peaceful picketing ! . . . (The humour of the 
 idea so overcomes them, it leaves them speechless 
 with laughter.} 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 (Watching the performance.) I wonder if 
 we're really " bringing a ray of sunshine into 
 these people's lives," as the phrase goes? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 At least we're doing good. Every little helps. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 We ought to give them the best of everything 
 modern, emancipated art ! The pictures'll do- 
 some of them are quite advanced. But I'm not so 
 sure about the entertainment ! Why don't they put 
 on a Shaw play instead of these grandmotherly 
 sentimental songs?
 
 THIS GENERATION 107 
 
 GEORGE 
 
 The people like homely sentiment ! What they 
 really want is variety, and comic picture-palaces. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (With gay irresponsibility.} I'd make them 
 sit up with variety. I'd stimulate their sluggish 
 wits ! This is a private club. Wouldn't it be 
 fun to have a programme entirely made up of 
 things that wouldn't do for the Censor or County 
 Council ? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Your tongue runs away with you, Dickey ! In 
 questions of decency, these people put their so- 
 called betters to shame. They're far more 
 particular. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Decency what's that? Merely a matter of 
 habit. We're too conservative ! 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 You're right. The Censor strangles all serious 
 dramatic art. This is the very place to give it 
 a chance. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 Hear, hear ! 
 
 (The BOY brings the coffee to GEORGE.)
 
 108 THIS GENERATION 
 
 CHAIRMAN. 
 
 (Rises and announces.) The last item on the 
 programme is a pianoforte solo by Miss Greville. 
 I must ask as many of our friends as possible 
 to remain, as we are going to have a great musical 
 treat. 
 
 (A Lady goes up to the small cottage piano 
 and begins to play a conventional, florid 
 piece. This is the signal for a general 
 break-up. A few remain seated. But 
 most people rise, move about, and greet 
 their friends. Some begin to leave, 
 others look at the pictures. The COM- 
 MITTEEMAN comes down to BAXTER'S 
 table. They rise and greet him.) 
 
 COMMITTEEMAN. 
 
 (To BAXTER and GEORGE.) You're both on 
 the Committee, aren't you? 
 
 (They nod. DICKINSON strolls away.) 
 
 COMMITTEEMAN. 
 
 We've had a very unpleasant occurrence. 
 Young Gwotkin went off yesterday with all the 
 cash. 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 (Horrified.) Impossible ! 
 
 COMMITTEEMAN. 
 
 We didn't find it out till this morning. We put
 
 THIS GENERATION 109 
 
 on the police at once. But they think he's got 
 off the Continent probably. 
 
 (MRS. BAXTER and LUCY enter quietly. 
 They move up the side of the room, 
 apparently looking at the pictures, but 
 really scrutinizing the seats. After a 
 minute MRS. BAXTER is seen to indi- 
 cate GEORGE to her companion.) 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Much distressed.) Tom a thief ! Isn't it 
 awful ! It's my fault. I ought to have influ- 
 enced him better. I should have helped him 
 to master his faults. He was filled with noble 
 ideas. But he couldn't stick to anything. He 
 was weak and lazy he'd no grit. If I'd been 
 more consistent I might have made him a sounder 
 chap. I did try, but all my efforts seem to fail. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 (Kindly.) Some lads are hopeless. You can't 
 alter them, do what you will ! 
 
 COMMITTEEMAN. 
 
 But the worst of it he's gone off with nearly 
 forty pounds. The Club mustn't lose it. Some 
 of us will have to make it up. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Eagerly.) I'll pay ! It's the least I can do. 
 I got him the post here. Of course, I'm 
 responsible !
 
 110 THIS GENERATION 
 
 COMMITTEEMAN. 
 
 It's very good of you. That relieves us of a 
 great anxiety. We hardly knew what to propose. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 But, George can you afford it? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Quite upset.) No, I can't I forgot ! I 
 haven't even the cash at present. I'll work and 
 save. I've got a hundred a year. You shall 
 have the money in instalments. (Breaking out.) 
 It's all this hateful money ! When will the world 
 be purged of it ! 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Not in our time, at any rate. So let's make 
 the best of what we've got. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 It tempted the boy to ruin. And now the 
 want of it prevents my doing the honourable 
 thing. It's the curse of all of us ! 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 (Soothingly.) Never mind. Don't take it to 
 heart ! You're not responsible for the young 
 blackguard. You're too kind-hearted, George 
 you don't know human nature.
 
 THIS GENERATION 111 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I don't ! I've always tried to believe in it 
 instead of suspecting or spying. And bitterly 
 I've been punished ! Who am I to stand up 
 and preach about brotherly influence and ex- 
 ample as though I thought myself a new St. 
 Francis ! 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Why not? You have the same unworldly spirit 
 I can't say more to your face, though I should 
 like to. 
 
 (The Member of Committee tactfully moves 
 away . ) 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Ah, don't say that ! It sounds like mockery. 
 I once boasted to my wife that I had become 
 a fool in the eyes of the world to help my fellow- 
 creatures. I seem to have made a fool of myself 
 all round ! 
 
 (The two boxing lads are wandering along 
 vaguely, looking at the pictures. They 
 are naturally somewhat puzzled at Art's 
 latest blossom.) 
 
 FIRST LAD. 
 
 They say all these 'ere pictures are high art 
 hung up to elevate our minds not likely !
 
 112 THIS GENERATION 
 
 SECOND LAD. 
 
 They're toa top-hole for me ! I can't make 
 head or tail of 'em. They ain't got no colour 
 and what there is has run. The chaps have put 
 in too much turps. I could spot that 'cause I'm 
 a painter. Give me a picture of a racecourse 
 with the jocks up and the horses running ! 
 
 FIRST LAD. 
 
 I like a classy seaside bit like the post -cards 
 " I've caught the dears bathing," or " How can 
 I cuddle both?" That's the picture to bring it 
 home to you. 
 
 (They pass on.) 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Have a seat back in our taxi? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Many thanks ! 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 You'll find me somewhere about. My wife 
 ought to be here by now she wants to see the 
 pictures. (He looks round.) Ah, there she is ! 
 (He slips off.) 
 
 (The music stops. The footlights are 
 lowered. People begin to leave fast. 
 GEORGE looks round and sees his wife. 
 They gaze at one another for a long 
 moment and then she advances timidly.)
 
 THIS GENERATION 113 
 
 GEORGE . 
 Lucy ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Ah, George ! (She looks at him very wist- 
 fully.} 
 
 (A moment's pause.) 
 LUCY. 
 
 I was asked to see the pictures. I thought 
 ... I was told I should find you here ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 Ah! 
 
 (A moment's pause.) 
 LUCY. 
 
 Have you heard father's dead? I'm staying 
 on in his house for the present. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Yes, I heard that. I didn't write. It seemed 
 a mockery. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 He left half his money to Clara and me, half 
 to the children. They'll be very rich when they 
 grow up. I'm afraid you'll be sorry for that. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Eagerly.) How are they? Tell me all about 
 them. I think of them day and night. 
 
 8
 
 114 THIS GENERATION 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Recovering courage.) They're quite well, and 
 growing fast. Harold has gone to a preparatory 
 school at Reigate. Only the best people send 
 their sons there. They look after the boys and 
 make them thoroughly happy. He enjoys it im- 
 mensely. Millie has a governess. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Have they begun to forget their father? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Oh no ! They're constantly asking when 
 daddy's coming back. I had to tell them you're 
 so busy devoting your life to the good of others 
 you hadn't time for us. It sounded odd, some- 
 how. But I had to say something, and I wasn't 
 going to tell a lie. 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 Quite right. Didn't they think it strange? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 They can't understand it. I can't understand 
 it. No one can understand it. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 How should they? But you must know it's 
 my love for the children my overwhelming love 
 for them that makes me keep away. I couldn't 
 bear to be with them and see them as I think 
 corrupted .
 
 THIS GENERATION 115 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Corrupted ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Yes corrupted by wealth and self-indulgence. 
 If I saw them again I don't think I could tear 
 myself away . 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Then come and see them ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (With almost a cry.} My children I want 
 my children and you ! That's why I daren't I 
 mustn't ! I, too, should be corrupted. (With a 
 sudden change of manner.) You will do me a 
 kindness, Lucy, I know, though I oughtn't to 
 ask it. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Don't put it like that. (Eagerly.) Ask me 
 ask me ! I want to be asked to help you. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Young Gwotkin has stolen forty pounds from 
 here. I want you to lend me the money. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Ah, don't say " lend," George it hurts my 
 
 feelings. You know that everything I have is 
 
 yours. The more you ask for, the happier I 
 shall be.
 
 116 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Yes, dear I know ! I'll take it as a gift 
 because I feel that will please you most. But 
 oh, the irony of money ! Money ! One might 
 as well denounce the air one hreathes ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 You're just like your old self, George you 
 haven't changed a bit. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Yes, I have ! I mistrust our social order more 
 than ever. I preach the Downfall of Capital. 
 But it's so hard to make one's views work with 
 life. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Do you know why I came here? (Timidly.} 
 I wanted to ask you to come back to us. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Almost imploring.) Don't tempt me, Lucy 
 you mustn't ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Passionately, catching his coat.) Oh, George, 
 George, come back ! (She looks round.) There 
 are people still here. (Rapidly, in a low voice.) 
 The children want you I want you ; I can't live 
 without you ! When I wake and find you're
 
 THIS GENERATION 117 
 
 not by my side, there's a gnawing pain in my 
 heart. And I wake so early every morning ! 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 Hush, Lucy I can't bear any more. I want 
 you and miss you, dear as much as you miss 
 me. But I've set my face against worldly things. 
 I'm making a great endeavour. I talk about 
 sacrifice. The only one that counts is the sacrifice 
 of self. No, Lucy it wouldn't be consistent] 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Don't be consistent, then. 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 You talk as though it were easy to say " No." 
 How little you understand ! It's almost killing 
 me. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Tolstoy was as consistent as any one could be. 
 And they say the Countess kept the money. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 He was in a false position. He tried to stifle 
 conscience. He couldn't. He had to leave home 
 at last. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I'm not thinking of him at all. I'm thinking 
 of his poor, broken-hearted wife and children.
 
 118 THIS GENERATION 
 
 You idealists at times can be very cruel to your 
 nearest. 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 (Flinching.) Oh, don't say that ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 You shall work in the fields, or sweep the 
 
 streets, or anything else disagreeable, if you'd 
 
 like to. I won't say a word. Only come ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 It isn't that I I don't wish to spend my time 
 in manual labour. But I do try to live a harm- 
 less life that should help others not injure them. 
 I'm getting an influence over men. I'm convert- 
 ing them to a higher life. I couldn't give that 
 up. I mustn't judge your father. But his money 
 was made in a way I think dishonest. If I came 
 I should have to share it. And I ought not to. 
 (Beginning to waver.) But it's a great tempta- 
 tion. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (With passionate pleading.) Oh, George, think 
 for once of me and the children ! Don't desert 
 us ! You think too much about money. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 I wonder ! 
 
 (The room is now empty. The WAITER-BOY 
 has switched off all the electric lights 
 except two. He comes up to them.)
 
 THIS GENERATION 119 
 
 BOY. 
 
 It's closing time, please. 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 Yes, of course. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Aren't you coming home? 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 (Torn in two.} I can't ! It would be disloyal. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (With infinite sadness.) Oh, George ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Hastily.) How are you going back ? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I've got the carriage here. The footman's out- 
 side. 
 
 (They go out together. BAXTER and his 
 wife, who have been discreetly in the 
 background, come down.) 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 I hope he's returning. I'm glad for her sake. 
 It will make her much happier. But as far as 
 he is concerned
 
 120 THIS GENERATION 
 
 BAXTEE. 
 
 Oh ! it'll make him happier too. He's not 
 like his sister. He has plenty of heart too much, 
 perhaps ! He's too quixotic. It's a mistake to 
 be over -conscientious. I suppose he could talk 
 his wife round a bit. (To the BOY.) Please 
 call a taxi . 
 
 (The BOY goes.) 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 She's conventional to the finger-tips. He'll not 
 convert her ! She can " pay the piper now, and 
 means to call the tune." He won't have a look 
 in about the children. Still, with a little affec- 
 tionate tact he might wheedle out some of the cash 
 for the Cause. We need it badly. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 He would hardly like to do that, I'm afraid. 
 He doesn't consider it was honestly made. 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 All the more reason to see that some of it's 
 honestly spent. 
 
 (GEORGE returns in a state of extreme emo- 
 tional tension.) 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 She asked me to come back. ... I refused I 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Isn't it rather a pity?
 
 THIS GENERATION 121 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 (Bursting out.) Rather a pity ! The pain's 
 so great I can't speak of it ! (With a change 
 of voice.) But how can I go? It would mean 
 conniving at all I denounce. It would mean 
 sharing her father's plunder. Wouldn't it be dis- 
 loyal to my life's work ; a cowardly desertion ; 
 another lost leader? 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 (Facing the situation as a practical woman.) 
 Not at all if you use your Will Power and keep 
 your head ! Of course, you could still be an active 
 worker . 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 (Catching at a happy straw.) Could I? She 
 told me I thought too much of money. Perhaps I 
 do. (Hesitating.) Isn't my hatred of worldly 
 prosperity growing morbid? (He begins to 
 waver.) We talk so much of the Crime of 
 Capital : the very idea gets on our brains. It 
 kills all sense of proportion. It needs a rest. 
 Why should I give up everything to " our little 
 sister, Poverty"? Nobody else would. Why 
 should I? 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 Why indeed? If you want a bit of comfort, 
 don't forget there are ways in which a big estab- 
 lishment does help us swell entertainments and
 
 122 THIS GENERATION 
 
 lots of grub ! It catches on with a certain class 
 and gives one a chance to talk them round. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Unheeding.) I told her I couldn't return 
 . . . and I asked her for money ! The humilia- 
 tion, the cruelty of it, is burning my soul. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 You might change your mind. 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 You better ! You'd better go back at once instead 
 of shilly-shallying. You know you'll do it sooner 
 or later. After all, it's the natural thing ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 It's the natural thing ! I believe it's false 
 pride that's holding me back. 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 I've no doubt of it. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 I should give her a chance, if I were you. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (With a burst of determination.) I will ! I'll 
 give love a chance. I must go I will go ! I 
 can't live without her and the kids. (Delightedly.) 
 It's nature. Don't tell me it isn't right. I'm so 
 happy it must be ! I'll surprise them to- 
 morrow .
 
 THIS GENERATION 123 
 
 MRS. BAXTER. 
 
 Only don't get perverted. Don't drop The 
 Torch. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Never ! Love shall make me all the stronger. 
 I'll redouble my efforts. People will say she's 
 bought me. I don't mind what they say ! People 
 are fools. I don't care a rap for appearances. 
 (Snapping his fingers.) No. Not that! 
 
 THE BOY. 
 
 (Returning.) The taxi's here. 
 
 (They go out. The BOY switches out the 
 last two lights.) 
 
 END OF THE THIRD ACT.
 
 THE FOURTH ACT
 
 THE FOURTH ACT. 
 
 SCENE : The drawing -room of the late MR. 
 HARBURN'S house in South Kensington. Its 
 furniture is florid and pompous, such as an 
 expensive upholsterer would have provided 
 about 1880. The fireplace, with an elabor- 
 ate overmantel, is opposite. LUCY and CLARA 
 are seated in front of it, in elaborate evening- 
 mourning dress, for the hour is after dinner, 
 and the evening, Sunday. LUCY looks bloom- 
 ing. There is something in her air which 
 suggests self-assurance and prosperity. She 
 is evidently no longer a pale and patient 
 wife, but a woman of some importance.) 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 George is a long time over his wine ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 He doesn't drink wine. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 Well, then, his coffee or whatever it is he does 
 drink ! May the fire be made up? (LUCY rings.) 
 He wasn't dressed for dinner is he going out? 
 
 127
 
 128 THIS GENERATION 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 No, I don't think so. He often doesn't change 
 in the evening. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 (Emphatically.) Then I should make him, 
 dear always. The servants must think it so odd ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 The servants must think what they please. I 
 promised not to worry him when he returned. 
 I never suggest or complain of anything. His 
 coming back has made all the difference to my 
 life. I'm happy now because we understand each 
 other at last. About the children I'm quite firm, 
 but in other respects we agree to differ. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 You don't see too much of each other that's the 
 secret ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Protesting.) Don't be cynical, Clara ! I wish 
 I saw more of him much more ! That's my one 
 disappointment. He's constantly out at his meet- 
 ings, and so on. He's often out four or five 
 evenings a week. I can't get him to go to parties 
 with me I wish he would ! 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 I should think so, indeed ! it looks so extra- 
 ordinary ! One comfort he doesn't bring his 
 crazy set home as he used to !
 
 THIS GENERATION 129 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I believe he sees them all in the study. I 
 shouldn't consent to receive them here. 
 
 CLAEA. 
 
 He must be getting more sensible. He's been 
 eating a little meat lately. That's a good sign. 
 I think you're going to conquer. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Earnestly.} It's not a case of conquering, 
 Clara. I want to make him contented here. I 
 want him to feel our house is home. 
 
 CLAKA. 
 
 Does he still run that dreadful rag? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I never inquire. 
 
 (The BUTLER enters solemnly.} 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Would you tell Henry to make up the fire? 
 
 BUTLER. 
 
 Yes, madam. 
 
 (Re goes.} 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 We never touch on dangerous topics nowadays. 
 It is much better. We get on beautifully. 
 
 9
 
 130 THIS GENERATION 
 
 But for all that, I don't believe his views have 
 altered one bit. I dread his influence on the 
 children. I don't want him to see too much 
 of them. That's why I hope to be able to send 
 Harold visiting in the holidays. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 I should think the memory of that dreadful 
 
 Board School and beastly shop in which you all 
 
 starved would last a lifetime. I think you've 
 been wonderfully patient ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Warmly.) Oh, don't say that ! He's the best 
 of husbands. His fault is he's too unselfish. 
 And some of his views are splendid. They're like 
 the New Testament. Only, unfortunately, they're 
 quite unworkable and he will try to put them 
 in practice. He would like to follow the text, 
 " Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth." 
 And yet he isn't a Christian. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 Perhaps he tries to follow it out for that very 
 reason, just to shame us ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I intend to make him so comfortable he'll cease 
 to condemn things. He's naturally rather fas-
 
 THIS GENERATION 131 
 
 tidious, and we're only living in the way that he 
 was brought up to. He'll surely find it's the 
 right thing in time. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 You do him uncommonly well, dear. That's 
 the secret of making a man contented and soundly 
 Conservative. 
 
 (A young FOOTMAN in plush knee-breeches 
 and silk stockings enters, carrying coals, 
 and proceeds to make up the fire. 
 CLARA glances at the Sunday paper she 
 holds in her hand.) 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 I see Lady Dorothy Clarage was at the opera 
 last night. She wore her diamonds. It's rather 
 dull of the women always to wear their diamonds. 
 Has she a box? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I think so Tuesdays ! 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 (Dropping the paper.) When are we going to 
 move? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Oh, nothing's fixed ! Of course, I must discuss 
 it with George before I go farther.
 
 132 THIS GENERATION 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 He took that slummy shop without asking you 
 first! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 That's quite different he's my husband. I 
 don't wish to do anything without his approval. 
 
 (GEORGE, in morning dress, comes in, watches 
 the FOOTMAN for a moment, then takes 
 the poker from him.} 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Never mind ! I'll poke it. (The man goes.) 
 I can't bear to trouble a servant to poke the fire 
 just as though we were cripples ! 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 It's usual in good houses. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Don't you think, dear, now Clara's going to 
 live with us, we're getting rather cramped for 
 room? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Standing in front of fire.) There's plenty 
 for me. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Fluently.) I was just telling Clara about a
 
 THIS GENERATION 133 
 
 house I've seen in Lancaster Gate. A good, large, 
 corner house, on gravel, with a splendid south 
 aspect over the Park, and sunshine all the day. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Do you want to move there? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Very much if you quite approve. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 Why? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 It's not healthy here. You know how bad the 
 fogs are. They say they're always lighter across 
 the Park. It would be so much better for the 
 children . 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 They're not seedy, are they? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 No, but they flag. (Conclusively.) Lancaster 
 Gate is so much more bracing. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Three men in the house, I suppose, instead 
 of two !
 
 134 THIS GENERATION 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 No ! I think we could manage with two. I 
 must talk to the butler about ii. Besides, moving 
 would give us a chance of selling some of this 
 furniture. I know you don't like it. 
 
 GEORGE . 
 I loathe it ! 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 Poor father hadn't much taste. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Coldly.) Is the house already taken? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Oh no, George, of course not. I should natur- 
 ally ask your leave first. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Very well. Do as you like. If it's good for 
 the children we'd better go. 
 
 (He drops into a chair. LUCY, with wifely 
 solicitude, brings a cushion, puts it 
 behind his head, and then stands by him 
 affectionately while she talks.) 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Thank you, dear, so much ! I know how un-
 
 THIS GENERATION 135 
 
 selfish yon are and it's for the children's sake. 
 (Coaxingly.) There's another thing I want to 
 consult you about. Isn't it time we gave up the 
 horses and got a motor? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Aren't you a little sorry to give them up? The 
 nation is suffering from congested cities. I'm 
 all for " back to the land." Motors are awfully 
 useful, but they've come on the world too fast. 
 They're spoiling the peaceful country, killing the 
 friendly quiet of lane and village. How Morris 
 and Buskin would have cursed them ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 So do I when I'm walking. I mean, I hate 
 all the rush and dust of other people's. One's 
 almost compelled to have a motor in mere self- 
 defence, though I don't like chauffeurs, of course. 
 They're most extortionate, full of dishonest tricks, 
 and don't know their places. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Grooms were decent lads from a country farm. 
 I'm told the distress among them is dreadful so 
 many are out of employment. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I should keep on the coachman and have him 
 trained. The groom can still look after the 
 children's ponies.
 
 136 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 If we both think it would be pleasant and kind 
 to keep on horses, why not stick to ours for the 
 present? It gives us a chance, for once, of not 
 doing an inconsiderate thing because it's the 
 fashion . 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 The country roads are spoilt already, so it 
 makes no difference. We really must have a 
 motor. Every one has one nowadays, even 
 Socialist Cabinet Ministers. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 All Cabinet Ministers are humbugs the Social- 
 istic ones especially ! 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 Of course ! Every one's more or less of a hum- 
 bug but you, George. You'd be so much happier 
 if you were a little bit of one now and then ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Bitterly.) And you think there's need to say 
 that to me while I'm in this house ! (To LUCY.) 
 But if you've made up your mind, why consult me ? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I wanted to consult you whether you think, 
 dear, it's best to have a Daimler or Humber?
 
 THIS GENERATION 137 
 
 GEOKGE. 
 
 (Moving the cushion away.) Oh ! 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 When are you going to give a dinner-party? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 The end of next week, if George is willing. 
 (To GEORGE.) Would the Friday suit? 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 (Vaguely.) I don't know. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I mean, will you be at home ? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I don't know. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 But we can't have a party without you, George. 
 I'm sure you dislike them. I'm sorry ; but it's 
 really a duty. And you know you think so much 
 of duty. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Very well, then the Friday.
 
 138 THIS GENERATION 
 
 LUCY. % 
 
 Shall we ask the Stephenses? 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 I don't care. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Or the Faussets? 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 Ask any one you like. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (A little pained, she moves from him and 
 takes a seat.} I wish you would express an 
 opinion, George one way or the other. After all, 
 you're the host. It's your party as much as 
 mine. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 (As she moves to the piano.) My dear, when 
 you give a party, let the man choose the wine 
 and the wife choose the guests. Then every one's 
 happy. (She sits down and plays softly.) 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 You seem to take so little interest in any of 
 our affairs it sometimes hurts my feelings, dear.
 
 THIS GENERATION 139 
 
 GEOEGE . 
 
 (Putting himself together.) I'm sorry I'm ex- 
 ceedingly sorry. But I know so few of your 
 friends. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 But I want you to know them better. Only 
 you don't seem to care for any of them. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Remorsefully.) I wish I could. But some- 
 how I can't I can't ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Bitterly.) I know you despise them because 
 they're sane, well-to-do people. You don't try 
 to care for anything I like. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 (Playing.) Aren't you rather grumpy this 
 evening. 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 (Jumping up.) I'm afraid I am. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 (Stopping suddenly.) It's we who ought to be 
 grumpy. What with the new fashions which 
 are simply hideous and the price of everything
 
 140 THIS GENERATION 
 
 going up so, we shall have to fall back on the 
 Simple Life, after all. 
 
 (The BUTLER announces MR. DICKINSON, 
 who immediately enters with an air of 
 friendly cheerfulness. He is not in 
 evening dress.) 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (Shaking hands.) How do you do? I've just 
 come from the Elysium Club. I was passing and 
 thought I'd look in. Pray excuse my costume. 
 I'm glad George keeps me in countenance. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 It's nice of you to drop in like this. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (To CLARA.) I don't think I've seen you, Miss 
 Harburn, since that night George gave up his 
 cigarette -making . 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 You mustn't chaff him about his youthful 
 follies. We ignore the episode. He's growing 
 wiser as he grows older. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I hope so, I'm sure 1 With such a smart in- 
 quisitor, I know I ought to recant or go to the 
 rack.
 
 THIS GENERATION 141 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 You mustn't corrupt him, Miss Harburn. You 
 mustn't make him " rat " to the Classes away 
 from the Masses. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I never liked the distinction. I think we need 
 (waving his hand in a circle} more Class -circula- 
 tion. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 And Capital -circulation too. There's far too 
 much fixed capital nowadays, in spite of death- 
 duties and taxes. (Playfully to CLARA.) And 
 how does the Budget suit you? 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 It's simply bleeding us white. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 I don't yet see any signs of pallor, I'm glad to 
 say ! I think it's glorious. It leaves me quite 
 untouched. That's the hest of being a pauper 
 you can help on these great financial achievements 
 with entire impartiality. (To GEORGE.) When's 
 the boy coming back from school? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 On Tuesday.
 
 142 THIS GENERATION 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Where's he going to afterwards? 
 
 LUCY. 
 Eton. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (On edge.) It's the first I've heard of it. 
 Suppose I object ? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 It wouldn't be right not to give him every 
 advantage. I want us both to be proud of our 
 son. 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 Of course he's going to Eton, George ! Father 
 wished it. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Indeed ! Do you think that's the best training 
 for the son of a Socialist? 
 
 CLARA. 
 
 It's the best training for Harold. We hope he'll 
 choose Diplomacy or the Guards. It would have 
 so gratified his grandfather. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 You seem to forget he's my son !
 
 THIS GENERATION 143 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Oh no ! But father left so much money to 
 Harold, it's only right to consider his wishes. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Firing up.) So you think his grandfather's 
 devilish money has bought him body and soul? 
 Suppose I refuse to sell him? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Soothingly, calmly.) You're very tired to- 
 night, dear, or you wouldn't talk like that. It 
 sounds so unnatural in a father. I pray every 
 night that Harold may turn out a good and useful 
 man. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (To GEORGE, changing the conversation.) You 
 must bring him round to see me one day the end 
 of next week. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 Delighted I 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Gently.) I'm afraid he won't be here. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Sharply.) Why not?
 
 144 THIS GENERATION 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I forgot to tell you, I've promised to let him 
 stay with a school friend a son of Lord 
 Malvern's. 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 (Holding himself in with difficulty.) I think 
 I might have been asked told, before ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 You're so busy. I always try not to bother 
 you too much with plans. I know how they tire 
 you. The Malverns are influential people. They 
 can help Harold on in the future. If he chooses 
 the Diplomatic Service, Lord Malvern is just the 
 man to get him a nomination. (Rising.) I'm 
 going to hear Millie's prayers. I shan't be long. 
 
 (She goes out.) 
 CLAEA 
 
 Then I'll leave you two gentlemen to plot our 
 utter destruction together . 
 
 (She also goes out.) 
 
 (GEORGE jumps up and marches about the 
 room excitedly.) 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Breaking out with passion.) I'm frantic ! 
 I'm driven frantic here like a wild animal caught 
 and caged ! It isn't Lucy. . . . She's as nice
 
 THIS GENERATION 145 
 
 as can be. It's class it's wealth it's social 
 decorum it's life itself ! A kind of impalpable 
 cage of convention which breaks my heart. Look 
 at this house the butler the simple youth who 
 let you in ! He doesn't even know that indoor 
 service and livery are degrading. The very atmo- 
 sphere here kills all manhood. (After a moment.) 
 Lucy and I love each other as much as ever. And 
 yet we've hardly a thought in common. It's all 
 the Money ! I keep silent I must. But it makes 
 my position utterly false. My son at Eton you 
 heard her the Guards or Diplomacy ! And I 
 believe in disarmament and universal peace. 
 Ridiculous isn't it ! He'll have Money ! She 
 spoils the children. They're being ruined for 
 life. And I can do nothing. (He suddenly turns 
 to DICKINSON.) You can't fight society, Dickey 
 not if you've got a wife and children safe in 
 the fold. It can't be done ! 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Not by example and influence? Influence is a 
 wonderful power. 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 I thought so once. It's impossible here. You 
 might as well try to influence the Bank of England 
 to open and fall down before you. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Can't you let off your steam outside? 
 10
 
 146 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Am I not always doing it? Though I can see 
 our people think me a hypocrite. For now Tm 
 supposed to have Money. "It's all very well," 
 they say to each other, " for him to jaw about the 
 evils of wealth. Why, he lives in a house worth 
 three hundred a year, with five horses and three 
 men in livery." 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 I see, the plush and silk stockings rankle. I 
 don't think I mind them myself rather decora- 
 tive. The last touch of colour from the Middle 
 Ages. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I don't care, of course, what our people say. 
 It's because I give them cause, I'm sickened. 
 For indirectly I am living on plunder her 
 father's loot. I] shall have to drop taking an 
 active part in the Movement. I see it ! I do more 
 harm than good. {I shall have to pass on The, 
 Torch to some other hand. I never realized the 
 immense power of Capital till I married a 
 financier's daughter. I've fought it I've fought 
 it, Dicky, and it's defeating me at last ! 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 I can see you're wriggling a bit. Take care ! 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 Doesn't a worm wriggle on the hook?
 
 THIS GENERATION 147 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (Soothingly.) Come and stay with me for a 
 few days, old chap ! A change will do you good. 
 It will give you a chance of cooling down. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 I should like to come. I need a rest and time 
 to think things over. But I daren't. I might 
 find it too difficult to return. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (Airily.) Why come back at all if the life 
 here chokes you? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Very earnestly.) Oh, I must I must for 
 Lucy's sake and the children's ! How could I 
 leave them? Besides, if I did, I should leave 
 my heart behind me. You know Henley's lines 
 
 "I am the master of my fate, 
 The captain of my soul." 
 
 It's not true at least not of me I I'm a captive 
 here, bound by a hundred invisible threads, and 
 smothered by pomp and circumstance. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (With light mockery.) Burst them, then burst 
 them 1 Ours is an age of revolt. The women
 
 148 THIS GENERATION 
 
 are in the vanguard there. Nothing must stand 
 in the way of their ego self -effectuation, I think 
 they call it. It's time men followed their lead 
 and jumped some fences. You should just see 
 the condition of poor white men -slaves in 
 America ! You should hear the crack of the ladies' 
 whips ! That would teach you the sacred duty of 
 timely revolt ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Calm again.) What nonsense you talk, 
 Dickey ! If I escaped, I should still find the 
 great world a cage of gold. I've always done so. 
 I suppose I was born too soon in a world too 
 young. (Almost cheerfully.) But I'd like to 
 come to you for a day or two there ! 
 
 (He rings the bell and drops into a chair.) 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Right you are ! To-night? 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 (Playfully.) Let's slip off quietly now, at 
 once, with no last words to anybody ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 No, no ! I must have my things packed and 
 say goodbye to Lucy. (With a change of voice.)
 
 THIS GENERATION 149 
 
 Baxter used to declare I lacked all sense of com- 
 promise. He wouldn't say so (looking round} 
 if he could see me now. 
 
 (The BUTLER enters.) 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 Pack my bag for a couple of nights, please. 
 
 BUTLER. 
 
 (With a tone of solemn reprehension.) I'll 
 tell Henry to pack it, sir. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Get it packed between you. 
 
 (The BUTLER goes.) 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Civilization has got us into such a hideous 
 mess it will have to begin at the very beginning, 
 and do its work over again. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Can we be sure it will do it better, after we've 
 had our way, and pulled everything down for 
 reconstruction ? 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 It must put a better face on things and 
 people. It seems to me, George, the domestic 
 influence here is working reversely !
 
 150 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 Not at all. But there's one mistake I've always 
 made, and I think we Socialists make it. 
 (Emphatically.} We don't sufficiently count the 
 cost. 
 
 DICKINSON. 
 
 Why, that's our salvation ! Nothing's ever done 
 if you count the cost. I'll tell you where we 
 may suffer after we've finished the job life may 
 not be quite so amusing ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Caustically.} It will doubtless still give 
 plenty of opportunities for the ironic smile ! 
 (Rising.} Come down to my room. You can 
 smoke while I say good -night to Lucy. 
 
 (They go out.} 
 GEORGE'S VOICE. 
 
 (On the stairs.} I'll be up in a moment. 
 
 DICKINSON'S VOICE. 
 
 Good -night, Mrs. Tremayne ! 
 
 LUCY'S VOICE. 
 Good -night. 
 
 (She comes in and stands restlessly near the 
 fire. After a few seconds GEORGE joins 
 her.)
 
 THIS GENERATION 151 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Catching her breath with apprehension.} 
 Henry's in your dressing-room packing your bag ! 
 
 GEOEGE. 
 
 I'm going to Dickinson's for a day or two. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Terrified.) You're going to leave us you'll 
 never come back ! 
 
 GEOEGE . 
 
 (Soothingly.) Oh yes, I shall, dear don't be 
 alarmed ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Why are you going? 
 
 GEOEGE . 
 
 I want a little time to myself to. think things 
 over. Will you really miss me? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Passionately.) Oh, George, it's unkind to say 
 that ! You're all in all to me ! 
 
 GEOEGE . 
 
 Sometimes I seem to be only a cipher here. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 You know it's your own doing if you are ! I 
 want you to feel yourself master. Everything's
 
 152 THIS GENERATION 
 
 yours that's mine if you'd only believe it, and 
 hold the reins. It would make me much happier 
 if you'd take over my banking account or share 
 it. 
 
 GEOEGE. 
 
 (Rather sadly.} Ah, Lucy, you treat me too 
 well. I feel like a speck of grit that's got into 
 the well-oiled machine of society. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I don't understand ! I'm afraid you're not 
 happy, dear. I would do anything I could to 
 please you only tell me what ! Would it make 
 you happier if we tried to live in a simpler way 
 and only kept one man indoors instead of two? 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 No, not particularly. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 If you think it's more democratic we'll live in a 
 flat instead of a house. And I'll give up all idea 
 of a motor and stick to the horses. I know you 
 make sacrifices for me. I want to make them 
 for you. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Touched.} Don't, dear, don't ! It's like 
 your sweet self to propose it, but it would be 
 worse that useless. I'm very exacting I want so 
 much ! You would never understand !
 
 THIS GENERATION 153 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Alarmed.) Not back to a little shop, George ! 
 I couldn't bear that again ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 No, dear ! There are some follies one does 
 outgrow. The leap was too sudden too big ! 
 I deserved a fall. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 If you'll tell me anything you would like 
 changed, I'll try to arrange it. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Recklessly.) Everything ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 But, George, you can't change everything in 
 the world at once ! 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 I'm beginning to find that out. (With sudden 
 decision.) There are two things I wish if I stay 
 on here and I must insist on ! I wish to have 
 Harold with us in the holidays. The visit must 
 be cancelled ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 He'll be very disappointed. But I can take 
 him to Cromer instead he needs sea air.
 
 154 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Presenting his ultimatum.) And I wish to 
 live in the country not Lancaster Gate ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Accepting it with delight.) I'm so glad ! I 
 never dared to suggest it. The children will 
 simply love it. We'll look out for a nice large 
 place with plenty of land and shooting. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 Shooting ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Harold will want to hunt and shoot. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Will he? I hope not I 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Of course he will, George ! We should 
 encourage him to go in for sport. Every one 
 knows it's the hest thing for health and character. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (With a flash of scorching irony.) So at last I 
 shall he a landlord a game preserving landlord ! 
 A landlord and I used to talk about taxing 
 them out of existence !
 
 THIS GENERATION 155 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 We shall be county people. 
 
 (He feels that the loved hands of wife and 
 children are closing the golden doors of 
 the prison house on him.) 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (With the resignation of despair.) Oh, Lucy, 
 Lucy you're like the Bourbons who never forgot, 
 and never learnt, anything ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 I know you think me stupid. But at any rate, 
 George, I've got the common sense. Pity me, 
 if I can't live up to your ideals. But love me 
 love me all the same ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 Always, always 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Very sweetly.) You won't go to-night, dear, 
 will you? 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 You would like me to stay? 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Coaxing.) Please please George ! Please ! 
 
 (He knows the door is shut for ever.)
 
 156 THIS GENERATION 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 Yes, dear ; I'll stay ! 
 
 (She looks at the clock and rings the bell.} 
 
 After all, what's the good of going? I can medi- 
 tate on repentance here, as well as at Dickinson's. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Taken a little aback.) Repent of what? 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 (In the saddest voice.) I hardly know. Per- 
 haps that the little speck of grit ever got itself into 
 the well-oiled machine. Never mind ! The 
 machine needn't creak or clog. The speck will 
 be soon ground to powder. 
 
 (The FOOTMAN enters.) 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Composedly.) We're ready for prayers. 
 
 (The FOOTMAN places the family Bible on 
 a small table.) 
 
 (LUCY seats herself deliberately and begins 
 to find the place.) 
 
 GEORGE. 
 Prayers ?
 
 THIS GENERATION 157 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Reproachfully.) Oh, George, you've forgotten 
 it's Sunday ! 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (Hastily.) I'll run down and say good -night to 
 Dickey ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (With conclusive calmness.) He can very well 
 wait till prayers are over. I'm afraid he wouldn't 
 care to join us? 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 No, I'm afraid he wouldn't ! 
 
 (The FOOTMAN is arranging six chairs in 
 a row near the door.) 
 
 (GEORGE drops into a chair that stands near 
 him a small one.) 
 
 GEORGE . 
 
 (Wearily.) I'm tired of struggling I'm tired 
 of everything ! 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Looking up sympathetically.) I know you're 
 tired to-night, dear ! That looks a very uncom- 
 fortable chair. Do take another. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 It's all right. Please don't bother.
 
 158 THIS ^GENERATION 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (With all a wife's loving triumph.} I mean 
 to make you so snug and happy at home. I'm 
 going to spoil you in future. 
 
 GEORGE. 
 
 (With a very watery smile.) Ah, Lucy ! If 
 you knew how little I deserve it ! 
 
 (The door is opened by the BUTLER.) 
 Sometimes I fancy that after all ... 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 (Finger on lip.) Hush ! the servants ! 
 
 END OF THE PLAY.
 
 Sbt 6r|>am flrrss, 
 
 UNWIN BBOTHEB8, LIMITED, 
 WOKINQ AMD LONDON.
 
 \ 
 
 0\