Strife | Page 9

Mr. Harness off. Have some
champagne with your lunch, Mr. Harness; you'll want it, sir.
HARNESS. Come, get to business, man!
THOMAS. What we're asking, look you, is just simple justice.
ROBERTS. [Venomously.] Justice from London? What are you talking
about, Henry Thomas? Have you gone silly? [THOMAS is silent.] We
know very well what we are--discontented dogs--never satisfied. What
did the Chairman tell me up in London? That I did n't know what I was
talking about. I was a foolish, uneducated man, that knew nothing of
the wants of the men I spoke for,
EDGAR. Do please keep to the point.
ANTHONY. [Holding up his hand.] There can only be one master,
Roberts.
ROBERTS. Then, be Gad, it'll be us.
[There is a silence; ANTHONY and ROBERTS stare at one another.]
UNDERWOOD. If you've nothing to say to the Directors, Roberts,
perhaps you 'll let Green or Thomas speak for the men.
[GREEN and THOMAS look anxiously at ROBERTS, at each other,
and the other men.]
GREEN. [An Englishman.] If I'd been listened to, gentlemen----
THOMAS. What I'fe got to say iss what we'fe all got to say----
ROBERTS. Speak for yourself, Henry Thomas.
SCANTLEBURY. [With a gesture of deep spiritual discomfort.] Let
the poor men call their souls their own!
ROBERTS. Aye, they shall keep their souls, for it's not much body that
you've left them, Mr. [with biting emphasis, as though the word were
an offence] Scantlebury! [To the men.] Well, will you speak, or shall I
speak for you?

ROUS. [Suddenly.] Speak out, Roberts, or leave it to others.
ROBERTS. [Ironically.] Thank you, George Rous. [Addressing himself
to ANTHONY.] The Chairman and Board of Directors have honoured
us by leaving London and coming all this way to hear what we've got to
say; it would not be polite to keep them any longer waiting.
WILDER. Well, thank God for that!
ROBERTS. Ye will not dare to thank Him when I have done, Mr.
Wilder, for all your piety. May be your God up in London has no time
to listen to the working man. I'm told He is a wealthy God; but if he
listens to what I tell Him, He will know more than ever He learned in
Kensington.
HARNESS. Come, Roberts, you have your own God. Respect the God
of other men.
ROBERTS. That's right, sir. We have another God down here; I doubt
He is rather different to Mr. Wilder's. Ask Henry Thomas; he will tell
you whether his God and Mr. Wilder's are the same.
[THOMAS lifts his hand, and cranes his head as though to prophesy.]
WANKLIN. For goodness' sake, let 's keep to the point, Roberts.
ROBERTS. I rather think it is the point, Mr. Wanklin. If you can get
the God of Capital to walk through the streets of Labour, and pay
attention to what he sees, you're a brighter man than I take you for, for
all that you're a Radical.
ANTHONY. Attend to me, Roberts! [Roberts is silent.] You are here to
speak for the men, as I am here to speak for the Board.
[He looks slowly round.]
[WILDER, WANKLIN, and SCANTLEBURY make movements of
uneasiness, and EDGAR gazes at the floor. A faint smile comes on
HARNESS'S face.]
Now then, what is it?
ROBERTS. Right, Sir!
[Throughout all that follows, he and ANTHONY look fixedly upon
each other. Men and Directors show in their various ways suppressed
uneasiness, as though listening to words that they themselves would not
have spoken.]
The men can't afford to travel up to London; and they don't trust you to
believe what they say in black and white. They know what the post is
[he darts a look at UNDERWOOD and TENCH], and what Directors'

meetings are: "Refer it to the manager--let the manager advise us on the
men's condition. Can we squeeze them a little more?"
UNDERWOOD. [In a low voice.] Don't hit below the belt, Roberts!
ROBERTS. Is it below the belt, Mr. Underwood? The men know.
When I came up to London, I told you the position straight. An' what
came of it? I was told I did n't know what I was talkin' about. I can't
afford to travel up to London to be told that again.
ANTHONY. What have you to say for the men?
ROBERTS. I have this to say--and first as to their condition. Ye shall
'ave no need to go and ask your manager. Ye can't squeeze them any
more. Every man of us is well-nigh starving. [A surprised murmur rises
from the men. ROBERTS looks round.] Ye wonder why I tell ye that?
Every man of us is going short. We can't be no worse off than we've
been these weeks past. Ye need n't think that by waiting yell drive us