Complete Works of George Moore

by George Moore

  STEINBACH.

  I am afraid I cannot answer you. However, I may tell you that it is not likely that Lady Anne will be able to spare the time for an interview this morning. I have come to speak to her on business. I tell you this, for I know that you newspaper people are very hard worked, and that your time is not your own.

  HAMER.

  Thank you. But — I have sent in my card, stating my business, and if Lady Anne is as busy as you say, she will probably make an appointment I am in no hurry.

  (Sits down and takes up book. Annoyed, the BARON walks towards the window; he turns, and seeing that HAMER does not intend to leave, he crosses left, stops, reads the card, pauses, and then speaks.)

  STEINBACH.

  I see you come from Durham, Mr. Hamer. (HAMER lays down the book, and looks up quite pleased at the interruption.) How are things in your neighbourhood? Any signs of fresh labour troubles?

  HAMER.

  The miners are, I think, waiting to see how things will turn out in Arlingford.

  STEINBACH.

  Very likely; and if the battle is lost here, we may expect strikes all over the North of England.

  (HAMER looks at him curiously, wondering who is this grand and somewhat authoritative individual.)

  Wattsbury ought to have taught trades unionism a lesson; it received a severe defeat there.

  HAMER.

  It did indeed. But the men would have won all along the line if it had not been for the energy and decision of Baron Steinbach. He is the most determined foe that trades unionism has. He sees that the concessions which the men ask in the name of Justice are stepping-stones to the utter destruction of capital.

  STEINBACH.

  Don’t you think he is right?

  HAMER.

  Unquestionably, from his point of view.

  STEINBACH (in a more conciliatory tone).

  Were you at Wattsbury?

  HAMER.

  Yes, I interviewed the strike leaders and as many of the directors as I could, I was most anxious to get an interview with Baron Steinbach, but he was always engaged. An interview with him would have been most interesting. He is a man of ideas, and could express his views regarding the necessity of capital.

  STEINBACH (laughing).

  Your flattering remarks make it impossible for me to leave you any longer in doubt as to whom you are talking to — I am Baron Steinbach.

  HAMER (Jumping up and somewhat overcome).

  Oh, indeed, I am sure I had no idea — I am pleased to have had the honour of meeting you.

  STEINBACH (bows).

  I read your interviews, and must confess that they were singularly free from prejudice. You have the talent of conveying an interesting and truthful reflection of life.

  HAMER (delighted).

  I am glad you liked my articles. I was just saying that I tried to get an interview with you during the Wattsbury strike, but you were always engaged.

  STEINBACH.

  Did it occur to you that perhaps I did not want to be interviewed?

  HAMER (laughing).

  Perhaps it did. But are you sure you’re not mistaken? The strike leaders are always anxious to express their views.

  STEINBACH.

  The position of the socialist leaders and the capitalists regarding publicity is quite different. They have everything, we have nothing to gain by the publication of our views. In my opinion the battle on our side should be conducted in silence.

  (Perceiving that HAMER is listening intently he stops short.)

  But I see that you are interviewing me.

  HAMER.

  I wish you would develop that idea. You were saying that the battle on your side should be conducted in silence.

  STEINBACH.

  If I were to develop that idea I should be acting contrary to the principles I profess.

  HAMER.

  But while we are waiting for Lady Anne it would be most interesting if —

  STEINBACH (laughing).

  I see you are a born journalist — the effective article is your principle.

  HAMER.

  My principle and my interest STEINBACH (laughing).

  Even if I wished to express my views I’m afraid this is no time to do so. I have come to Arlingford to see my friend Lady Anne Travers.

  HAMER.

  I hope you have come with some project of settlement But you are against all compromise; you would force the miners to accede to your terms. But perhaps Lady Anne may incline towards the principle that labour disputes should be settled by arbitration.

  STEINBACH.

  If ever I desire to express my views on capital and labour I shall be glad to entrust their transmission to your intelligence; in the meantime, do not try to interview me against my will.

  HAMER.

  You will excuse my hoping that Lady Anne will see no harm —

  STEINBACH.

  I think that all expressions of opinion at the present moment would be injudicious.

  HAMER.

  I will not presume to argue that point with you, Baron Steinbach. But may I ask you if you think that Lady Anne will keep us waiting much longer?

  STEINBACH.

  I have already told you, Mr. Hamer, that I believe Lady Anne is still suffering from the fatigues of her journey — that I have come to talk with her on important business.

  HAMER.

  If I were in your house, Baron Steinbach, I should at once retire, but as I am in Lady Anne Travers’s, perhaps you will excuse me if I wait until Lady Anne herself decides if she can see me.

  (The door on the right opens and LADY ANNE enters.)

  LADY ANNE.

  Oh, how do you do, my dear Baron? How good of you to come! Who is —

  HAMER.

  I come from the Durham Mercury. You have my card in your hand, Lady Anne.

  STEINBACH.

  I have told Mr. Hamer that I do not think it is advisable that you should express any opinion regarding the strike.

  LADY ANNE.

  You see, Mr. Hamer, I only arrived a few days ago from abroad. I have been little in Arlingford since my husband’s death; besides, I have exceedingly important business to discuss with Baron Steinbach. You must excuse me.

  HAMER.

  I was about to explain to Baron Steinbach when you entered that the object of this visit was not merely to interview you regarding the strike — I easily divine what your views are — but to ask you if I may be present at one o’clock, when you receive the deputation.

  STEINBACH (to LADY ANNE).

  Have you consented to receive another deputation?

  LADY ANNE.

  I could hardly refuse. Do you think I was wrong?

  STEINBACH.

  I don’t think much good will come of re-opening the question. You intend to stand by your first offer and to grant nothing further?

  LADY ANNE.

  I can make no further concession, that is certain. But I do not think it would look well to refuse to receive the deputation.

  STEINBACH.

  Perhaps not HAMER.

  The account I shall furnish will be impartial; you know that, Baron Steinbach. But should you refuse to allow me to report the proceedings, John Reid or his fiancée, Ellen Sands, will send in a report, and you know what a one-sided version that will be.

  STEINBACH (stops to think).

  Yes, it is as you say; I prefer your report to theirs, and I have no objection to offer. Lady Anne, will you allow Mr. Hamer to accompany the deputation?

  LADY ANNE.

  I shall be very glad if you will consent to be present HAMER.

  Thank you. At one o’clock, then. You have just come back from the south, Lady Anne? This is the room you live in. That cabinet is Chippendale?

  LADY ANNE.

  No, old Italian.

  HAMER.

  I should like to have the impressions gathered on your journey, but when you are less busy. Your drawing-room looks on a garden. You are fond of gardening, I su
ppose? One of these days, before you leave, Lady Anne, you will favour me, I hope, with your views and your impressions; and, perhaps, Baron Steinbach, I shall be able to persuade you to favour me with your views regarding the necessity of capital? Most interesting, I’m sure.

  STEINBACH.

  Well talk about that later on.

  HAMER.

  I hope so.

  (Exit)

  (BARON STEINBACH returns from the door. LADY ANNE advances to meet him, her hand extended,)

  STEINBACH.

  It is such a pleasure to see you again, Anne.

  LADY ANNE (with an almost imperceptible moving away from him).

  And I am so glad to see you. I wrote to you, because I believe you to be my friend.

  STEINBACH.

  You have no better friend. When I received your letter, I called for the Bradshaw, and I told my servant to pack my portmanteau at once. Then I threw myself into an arm-chair and read your letter over and over again.

  LADY ANNE.

  There was not much to read.

  STEINBACH.

  No; your letters are always the same curt little epistles.... A little statement in a fine, delicate handwriting. ( Taking her hand.) Your hand is your handwriting — that decisive little writing with its very distinctive slope. (She withdraws her hand) It was a great pleasure to receive your letter, and in the train I watched the hedge-rows, thinking that with every one I was some yards nearer to you.

  LADY ANNE.

  It was very good of you. You are very good to me. I want you to be my friend.

  STEINBACH.

  If I were not your friend, do you think that I would have left important business and come to you at an hour’s notice? I didn’t wait for the express. I came by the slow train, because it arrived here ten minutes sooner.

  LADY ANNE.

  You’ve arrived none too soon. Things are in a frightful way here. I don’t know what will become of me! What would you advise?

  STEINBACH.

  We’ve all the afternoon to talk business. I want to tell you that I think you as charming as ever.

  LADY ANNE.

  If you wouldn’t make love to me.

  STEINBACH.

  Have I not a right?

  LADY ANNE.

  I’d sooner have you as a friend.

  STEINBACH.

  You didn’t always think like that, Anne.

  LADY ANNE.

  I always told you that I was a cold woman, and I’m in too great trouble now to think about love. (STEINBACH looks at her doubtfully.) I know you don’t believe me; men never will believe. (A pause.)

  STEINBACH.

  I never could make out whether you liked me, or what you intended.

  LADY ANNE.

  I always liked you, my dear Baron, but —

  STEINBACH.

  My dear Anne, let us be frank with one another; you’ve treated me very badly.

  Have I?

  STEINBACH.

  Think of it We met at a dinner-party about two years ago, and it has been going on ever since.

  LADY ANNE.

  You took me down to dinner.

  STEINBACH.

  And we were friends before we got to the dining-room; and next day you wrote asking me to lunch, and you began your letter “My dear Baron.”

  LADY ANNE.

  I didn’t mean anything by that I told you in the drawing-room that very night that you were mistaken in me.

  STEINBACH.

  It wasn’t so much that I was mistaken as that I was unlucky. It was not to be; I felt from the first I was not going to be your lover. One always knows. —

  LADY ANNE.

  How strange men are! Is that what a man thinks when he is introduced to a woman — am I or am I not going to be her lover?

  STEINBACH.

  Only when one is in love. I thought you the most fascinating woman I had seen for a long time. You seemed to like me, yet I only once thought that my instinct had deceived me.

  LADY ANNE.

  When was that?

  STEINBACH.

  The first time I lunched alone with you. I was standing on the hearth-rug smoking a cigarette, thinking how I should tell you that I loved you. You must have guessed my embarrassment, for you got up and walked so close to me that I quite naturally took you in my arms.

  LADY ANNE.

  It was then that you thought that you were mistaken.

  STEINBACH.

  Yes, and the mistake was pardonable, for with your head lying on my shoulder, you told me you were going out of town, and it was arranged that I was to meet you.

  LADY ANNE.

  What could I do? My friends wrote to say they were going to send for me to the station.

  STEINBACH.

  You put me off till the summer, till you went abroad to take the waters at Carlsbad or Contrexville, I forget which. The day was arranged for your departure, but I knew that something would happen to prevent it, and something did happen.

  LADY ANNE.

  It was not my fault You know it wasn’t STEINBACH.

  Apparently not You told me the whole circumstances three months after.

  LADY ANNE.

  I could not have acted otherwise than I did. But when I asked you to come to the Riviera you couldn’t leave London. That was not my fault!

  STEINBACH.

  Nor mine; it was the moment of the Baring crisis, and for a fortnight I did not know that I should have a thousand left to go on with. When I wrote to you later on, you sent a telegram telling me not to come.

  LADY ANNE.

  I had friends staying with me. There always did seem to be some hitch. And now I am like you were in the Baring crisis; in a week’s time I may not have a thousand pounds to my name. How can you expect me to think of love at such a time? (Rises and crosses.)

  STEINBACH.

  Tell me exactly what your position is.

  LADY ANNE.

  I cannot go into details.

  STEINBACH.

  I don’t want the details. I’ll get them from the books; just the main facts. (Lights a cigarette,.)

  LADY ANNE.

  As far as I understand, the dispute resolves itself to this: The men want a rise of twenty per cent, all round. There are other demands, the abolition of what they call “Billy Fairplay.” It has something to do with getting rid of the refuse.

  STEINBACH.

  I know. Have the men had an increase before?

  LADY ANNE.

  Yes; last year a increase of five per cent, was demanded on account of an anticipated advance in the price of coal.

  STEINBACH.

  You conceded the rise in wages and the advance in coal did not come off?

  LADY ANNE.

  Exactly.

  STEINBACH.

  So the money in the mine, out of which you all get your living, is five per cent poorer than last year?

  LADY ANNE.

  I suppose so. (Sits R. table.) — They con tribute nothing towards the working expenses, and now they want another rise of twenty per cent. If the mine belonged to the miners, it could not be worked on such a scale of wages.

  STEINBACH (walking to and fro).

  I should think not indeed. It is impossible to work a mine on the co-operative principle. At the end of six months they would have to reduce the scale of wages; in a year they would be in bankruptcy, and the mine in ruins.

  LADY ANNE.

  My manager tells me that we could not grant this twenty per cent and work the mine at a profit. Even if it were possible, nothing would be left for me. I cannot afford to grant more than five per cent STEINBACH.

  I would not have you raise their wages one per cent., nor grant any concession whatsoever. Admit the principle of concession, and bit by bit they will wring our property from us. Our interests are common, and if we were half as united in our actions as these fellows we should very soon trample out the labour movement. (Sits.) When did the men leave work?

  LADY ANNE.


  Three weeks ago.

  STEINBACH.

  Do you think they are well supplied with funds?

  LADY ANNE.

  I think not. A week ago they would have accepted our terms.

  STEINBACH.

  A mistake, a fatal mistake, to offer any terms.

  If I had my way, the declaration of every strike should be accompanied with a declaration of a reduction of wages. They accept our terms, or we lose the battle sooner or later.

  LADY ANNE.

  It is easy for you to speak like that; your capital is unlimited, mine is not, and if the pumps were to be stopped, and the water got the upper hand, the mine might never be got back into working order.

  STEINBACH.

  There is always non-unionist labour to be had if you offer the price.

  LADY ANNE.

  They say that there is hardly any non-unionist labour; besides, my resources are limited.

  STEINBACH.

  The other mine-owners should help you.

  LADY ANNE.

  They are afraid the strike will spread.

  STEINBACH.

  Personal selfishness will prove our ruin in the end. That’s the weak point in our armour. And you tell me they refused your offer of five per cent. Why was that?

  LADY ANNE.

  The great labour leader, John Reid, came down here to conduct the strike, and it was owing to his influence that the men resolved to accept no abatement on their original demands.

  STEINBACH.

  I know him; we met at Wattsbury. He is a poet as well as a socialist leader; a curious combination, socialism and poetry. I see no connection between hob-nails and sonnets, bull-pups and —

  LADY ANNE (rises).

  His poems are not in the least like that Here is his last volume. ( Takes book front table.) Nostalgia; charming title, isn’t it? and there are charming things in it.

  STEINBACH.

  It is strange that, notwithstanding all your trouble, you should be able to find time to interest yourself in poetry. This taste in poetry is quite new in you. (LADY ANNE continues reading, STEINBACH watches.) — One would think you were personally interested in the author.

  LADY ANNE (laying the book down).

  I’m afraid that that is just it You see, we are old friends.

  STEINBACH.

  What do you mean, Anne?

  LADY ANNE.

  Yes, old friends, though we have not seen each other for ten years. Ten years ago he was my father’s secretary — he was eighteen and I was seventeen.

  STEINBACH.