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.
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