w^=^ |:::the:::I "X HENRY 1 f ARTHUR VA JONES /€ ^\c» \ Q^ Mm- LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. "Viv - > vl^ :^':!' A^ THE CRUSADERS ^A. .m^ THE CRUSADERS AN ORIGINAL COMEDY OF MODERN LONDON LIFE BY ^ HENRY ARTHUR JONES AUTHOR OF THE DANCING GIRL," " JUDAH," " THE MIDDLEMAN "WEALTH." ETC. Produced at the Avenue Theatre, London on the 2nd november, 1 89 1 O MACMILLAN & CQ. / AND LONDON 1893 All rights reserved Copyright, 1892, By MACMILLAN & CO. Typography by J. S. Cushing & Co., Boston, U.S.A. Presswork by Berwick & SiMiTH, Boston, U.S.A. PREFACE In some foreign picture-galleries the visitor is provided with japanned tin '' blinkers/' like stereoscopes with the glass knocked out, through which to examine the pic- tures. I do not know what is supposed to be the effect of this device, but I fancy that in most cases it simply serves to concentrate the attention of the observer, and so to intensify his vision. That, I take it, should be the function of a critical preface. It should neither be an arraignment nor an apology, but simply an exposition. The writer's likes and dislikes, his prejudices and prefer- ences, are neither here nor there. If they are suffered to peep out, that is only because there is a great deal of human nature in man. The work of art is there, before the reader's eyes, and, by the act of publication, submitted to his judgment. Any attempt to dictate that judgment would be a self-defeating impertinence. All one can do — all I would here attempt — is to place the reader at what seems to be the right point of view, and to aid him in discerning the author's intentions. The merit of these intentions and of their execution is entirely a matter for the jury. vi PREFACE First comes the question of categories : What descrip- tion of play has Mr. Jones set forth to write? He calls The Crusaders a comedy ; but from the word '• comedy " we nowadays learn nothing more definite than that the stage is not drenched in gore. ^'Satirical romance" would perhaps fit the play as exactly as any label of equal brevity. That is to say, it is not primarily a drama of individual character, but a sketch of a social group, a study of a certain intellectual and emotional tendency in modern life. In this it differs from the most notable of Mr. Jones's previous works. Judah and The Dancing Girl were, or ought to have been, dramas of individual character. They obviously sprang from the conception of the spiritual enthusiast and the half-innocent charlatan, the reprobate duke and " the beautiful pagan." In The Crusaders, on the other hand, the conception of the " milieu " evidently preceded and conditioned that of the plot and characters. The germ of the play in the author's mind was not a personage or a situation, but a theme — that of social idealism. Let me illustrate this distinction — between the drama of character and the social satire — by a reference to the works of other playwrights. Du- mas's Monsieur Aiphonse, Denise, and Francillon are dramas of character ; Le Demi-Monde is a social satire. To the former class belong Augiers VAventiiricre and Les Fourchambaidt ; to the latter, Les Effrontes and Le Fils de Giboyer. Frou-frou is the portrait of a woman ; Le Monde on Von s'^ennuie is the picture of a coterie. PREFACE vii Frou-frou without Gilberte would be a contradiction in terms ; whereas in Le Monde oil Von s'ennuie no single personage, and still less the particular thread of plot on which the scenes are strung, is essential to the author's conception. Pailleron's play portrays, not a passion or a character, but a salon or a cluster of salons, a corner of society, a craze, an aifectation, a foible of the hour, of the day, at most of the decade. The same description applies almost exactly to The Crusaders, except that the social idealism with which it deals is a phenomenon of deeper and more abiding interest than the pedantry ridiculed in the French play. I will go further and say that there is probably no larger and more fmitful theme at present open to the dramatic satirist than this on which Mr. Jones has laid hand. The banner of Social Reform serves as a rallying-point for all that is noblest and basest, wisest and foolishest, in the world of to-day. Self-less enthu- siasm and self-seeking vanity, fanaticism and hypocrisy, magnanimity and pusillanimity, the profoundest science and the shallowest sciolism, earnestness and affectation, paganism, puritanism, asceticism, sensuality, worldliness and other-worldliness — these, and a hundred other phases and attributes of human nature, stand forth in their highest intensity within the sphere of our latter-day meliorism. This movement is in tmth as dramatic an element in the life of the nineteenth century as were the Crusades in that of the thirteenth. It is for the jury to determine whether Mr. Jones has risen to the height of viii PREFACE his argument. One thing alone is certain : to wit, that he has not exhausted a theme which is compact of Exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind. The satire of The O'usaders — this is a matter of fact rather than of opinion — is contemplative, not militant. Mr. Jones writes as a judicious observer, not as a parti- san. "What is the use of satire," some ardent spirits may ask, "which leaves everybody's withers unwrung? The satirist's weapon is the lash. Satire which hurts no- body is the merest empty persiflage." But are contempt, hatred, and the desire to inflict pain really inherent in the idea of satire? Is there no virtue in the genial raillery which throws our foibles into relief without arousing that spirit of resentment which tempts us, in sheer defiance, to persevere in them? Mr. Jones has done his best to be fair to all parties. He has embodied — one might almost say symbolised — whole-hearted enthusiasm in Philos Ingarfield and Una Dell. The imitative idealism which arises from a potent personal influence, and vanishes with the withdrawal of that influence, finds its representative in Cynthia Greenslade. In Mrs. Campion-Blake we have the good-natured busybody who makes philanthropy sub- serve her social ambition, and place her on the visiting- list of "the dear Duchess." Lord Burnham is the genial cynic who has no ideals of his own — has he not " been in Parliament since he was twenty-two"? — but who holds it a part of political sagacity to humour, and perhaps util- PREFACE ix ise, the idealism of others. Mr. Palsam is the narrow- minded (yet not hypocritical) moralist, who would have all the world virtuous after his own conventional pattern, and finds in scandalmongering a congenial method of making himself a terror to evil-doers, if not (and this he cares less about) a praise to such as do well. Finally, we have in Burge Jawle the necessary opposition of pessi- mism to meliorism, of the quietist to the radical ; while his satellite, Figg, typifies the craze for co-operative hero- worship which has of late been so rampant. It would not have been easy, I think, to exhibit within the compass of three acts a more representative group of social " cru- saders " and camp-followers. Whether Mr. Jones has made more than a superficial study of his types is a ques- tion for the jury ; also whether he has been quite success- ful in resisting the temptation to inartistic extravagance of caricature. I will only remark, on this score, that the same questions force themselves with no less insistence upon the readers of Le Monde ou Vo7i s'e?mj(ie, a play which M. Sarcey is for ranking among the perennial classics of the French stage. Now let me note a technical difference between Mr. Jones's work and M. Pailleron's. So far as story is con- cerned, the French play may be classed as a comedy, almost a farce ; whereas the English play is a romance, almost a fairy-tale. There is nothing incredible in Le Monde on Von s'^ennicie. For aught we know, the inci- dents might have happened ; their probability may be X PREFACE open to question, but they do not conflict with common knowledge. The Cr?esaders, on the other hand, is as patently fantastic as Piccadilly or The Battle of Dorking. It sets forth events w^hich purport to be, but are not, mat- ters of history. They may be more or less possible and probable, but their '''factuar^ unreality is obvious from the outset. Of course we do not believe that the events of any work of imagination ever actually happened ; but, while witnessing Forget-me-not, or The Profligate, or Jtc- dah, we lend, or try to lend, to the occurrences presented a sort of provisional credence. In the case of The Cru- saders even this provisional acceptance is impossible. We know that no London Reformation League ever set about its task with a million and a half at its back. We know that there is not, and never was, a rose-farm at Wimbledon, tended by five hundred East End seam- stresses. We know that no government — Tory, Whig, or Radical — ever " guaranteed " such a man as Philos Ingarfield as a fit ^and proper personal-conductor for a consignment of '' ne'er-do-wells " to Costa Rica. We know that no revolution in Costa Rica ever led to a change of government in England and an additional two- pence on the income-tax. If, in short, w^e are to place this fable on the common earth at all, it must be in the future, not in the present or past. Mr. Jones, like the authors of Looking Backward and News from Nowhere, fantasticates in the future, though his future may be con- ceived as somewhat nearer than Mr. Bellamy's or Mr. PREFACE xi Morris's millennium. And it is here, as it seems to me, that Mr. Jones has, consciously or unconsciously, hit upon a technical device of wide application. In such "fairy- tales of the possible future" the dramatic satirist may perhaps find his most convenient form of utterance. Even the genius of an Aristophanes might shrink from the attempt to rescue extravaganza from its present degra- dation ; and, failing extravaganza, quasi-realistic romance may prove to be the satirist's readiest weapon. Observe that I do not attempt to determine whether Mr. Jones handles this peculiar weapon with all desirable grace and skill. That, again, is a question for the jury. It may be that his " possible future " will seem too wildly impossible, that such an incident as Lord Burnham's renunciation of his racing-stable may be held to out-fantasticate fantasy, and that the element of intrigue and serious emotion in the latter half of the play may appear out of keeping with the general tone of the fairy-tale. On these points, and many others, I offer no opinion. My effort has simply been to deprecate the Beau-Tibbs attitude of mind, and to beg the reader not to contemn a satiric romance be- cause it is not "a tragedy or an epic poem, stap my vitals ! " I have sought to bring into evidence what Mr. Jones has attempted to do, and how he has attempted to do it. The merit of his endeavour and the measure of his success are, for the present, matters beyond my com- petence. "But hold!" cries the reader. "In the very fact of xii PREFACE writing this preface (a task you were doubtless at perfect liberty to decline) you commit yourself to an opinion on the merits of the play. You assert, by clear implication, that it is at least worthy of serious study and criticism." Why, yes ; you have me there. Let me, then, drop dissimulation and confess that when Mr. Jones hon- oured me by suggesting that I should introduce The Crusaders to the reading public, I willingly consented, because I believed the play to be, with all its faults, a piece of '"live" dramatic work and a step in the right direction. WILLIAM ARCHER. London, October 12, 1892. AVENUE THEATRE. PLAYBILL OF THE FIRST PERFORMANCE OF "THE CRUSADERS" ON MON- DAY, NOVEMBER THE SECOND, 1891. Avenue Theatre. Mr. Henry Arthur Jones begs to an- nounce that his new comedy of modern London Hfe, in three acts, called The Crusaders, will be played to-night, November 2nd, 1 89 1, for the first time. " Rely on the laws of gravity. Every stone will fall where it is due. The good globe is faithful and carries us securely through the celestial spaces. We need not interfere to help it on. We need not assist the administration of the universe." — Emerson's Essays. Lord Burnham, the Foreign Sec- retary ..... The Hon. Dick Rusper, his son . Philos Ingarfield Mr. Palsam, Vice-President of the London Reformation League . Mr. BuRGE Jawle, the Great Pessi- mist Philosopher (By the kind permission of Mr. Beerbohm Tree.) Mr. FiGG, the founder of the Jawle Guild Rev. Algernon Portal, Curate of Saint Botolph's, Wimbledon . Worrell Cynthia Greenslade . Mrs. Campion-Blake, Hon. Secre- tary of the London Reforma- tion League .... The Queen of the Marshal Niels . The Lady Gloire de Dijon Victorine Una Dell xiii Mr. Arthur Cecil. Mr. YoRKE Stephens. Mr. Lewis Waller. Mr. Weedon Grossmith. Mr. Henry Kemble. Mr. Sant Matthews, Mr. Allan Aynesworth. Mr. G. L. Leith. Miss Winifred Emery. Lady Monckton. Miss LiLLiE Belmore. Miss Ettie Williams. Miss T^rese Mayer. Miss Olga Brandon. THE FIRST ACT. Young Don Quixote comes from Peckham. The Scene is Mrs. Greenslade's Drawing-room in Mayfair. (^Fifteen months pass.) THE SECOND ACT. Utopia arises within an easy drive from Hyde Park Corner. The scene is the Rose Farm and Rose Cottages near Wimbledon, at full Midsummer. ( Otte night passes.') THE THIRD ACT. The Parsley Garland. The scene is the Morning-room at the Rose Cottage, Wimbledon. The indulgence of the audience is asked on the first night between the acts, as the stage is small and the scenery is rather elaborate. The furniture and draperies have been made by Messrs. William Morris and Company, 449 Oxford street. The new scenery has been painted by Mr. Walter Hann. The orchestra is the Viennese White Band, under the direction of Herr Wurm. The song in the second act is sung by Mr. Stedman's choir. The Stage-Manager is Mr. C. M. Appleby. The prices of admission are as follows: — Private boxes, ;i^i lis. 6d. to £^ 45. Orchestra Stalls, loj'. 6d. Balcony Stalls, 7^. Dress Circle (bonnets allowed in last row), 55. Upper Circle (first row booked), y. Pit, 2s. Gallery, is. The Box Office (Mr. Melton) is open from 10 till 5 daily and during the evening performance. The doors will be opened at 7.30, the overture will be played at 8, and the curtain will rise at 8.15. All com- munications are to be addressed to Mr. G. D. Day, the business manager at the theatre. XV ACT I Scene — Mrs. Greenslade's Drawing-room in Mayfair, a very richly and tastefully furnished apartment. At back a hand- some row of pillars, which flank staircases running at right angles to spectator, and leading to upper apartments. A large bowl of beautiful roses on a small table down the stage. A door and a fireplace on the left side of the stage. A door on the right side of the stage, near the footlights. Handsome settees, sofas, cabinets, etc.; the whole apartment giving evidence of great wealth and taste. After curiam has risen a few moinents, Cynthia's face J in widow^s head-dress, is seen at back, peeping through the curtains on left side. She listens in- tently for a few moments, then withdraws ; the curtains close, and a moment later she appears at bottom of stairs, still listening. She is in widow's mourning; about twenty-five years of age, with fascinating, coquettish manners. After listening a moment towards door right very intently, she smiles, then runs qtiickly to sofa, curls herself upon it, listens again, and, as Worrell enters, feigns to be asleep. 2 THE CRUSADERS act i Entei', door right, Worrell, a very respectable man- servant, bald, stout, about forty-five. Worrell announces Mr. Rusper. Enter the Honourable Dick Rusper, about thirty ; an easy, affable, good-looking English ge?itleman. {Exit Worrell right.) Dick comes down, sees Cynthia, stops suddenly, con- tentplates her with great admii'ation. Dick. Fast asleep ! How interesting ! How in- nocent ! {Pause, full of admiratioft.) Devilish pretty woman ! {Steals 7ioiselessly across to back of sofa, bends over her.) (Cynthia opens her eyes, affects not to see hi??t, yaiuns, stretches her arms, then sud- denly looks at him, pretends to start , sits quickly bolt upright on sofa, stares at him as if Just wakefied fro7fi sleep.) Cynthia. How stupid of me ! {Jumps up quickly ^ goes to him, extends her hand cordially, eagerly.) Well, will Lord Burnham be president? Dick. Yes, I've rushed him into it. Cynthia. How good of you ! Then London is reformed already ! {Clapping her hatids with delight, crossing to the bowl of roses, buries her head in the roses.) ACT I THE CRUSADERS 3 Dick. It ought to be, with my dad to boss the — what d'ye call the concern? Cynthm. The London Reformation League. (Spie//s the roses delicately and luxuriously.^ Aren't these roses exquisite ? ( Gathers a rose, plays with it.) Dick {comes up to table, speaks in a low, soft, ivinning voice). I wish you'd let me be on your committee. Cynthia {shakes her head). Mr. Palsam objects. Dick. Why? Cynthla. Because you're married. Dick. So are most of the other members. Cynthia. Yes, but they — {longish pause, drops her voice) they contiftue married. Dick. So do I — at a distance. My wife and I found out that when we were together we were miser- able, and when we were away from each other we were happy ; so we parted. She does as she likes ; I do as I like. A jolly sensible arrangement ! Cynthia. Yes, but — you can't reform London that way. Dick {approaching her). 1 don't want to reform London at all. Cynthla {getting away from him). Ah! I knew you weren't in earnest ! Nobody is in earnest except Mr. Ingarfield. Dick. No ; and nobody wants to be, when they've once seen him. Cynthia {reproachfully). You don't believe in our great scheme ! 4 THE CRUSADERS act i Dick {cofnes up to her, in a very insinuating whis- per) . Yes I do, if it brings me near you ! Cynthia {coldly, severely). Please don't trifle. I have a terrible responsibility resting on me ! Dick {looks at her, laughs). Since when? Cynthia. Ever since I met Mr. Ingarfield. My whole character has completely changed. Dick {shakes his head). Characters don't change. You're the same wicked torment of a flirt that you were six years ago, when you plagued the hfe out of Fred Rossiter and me, and threw us both over to marry Mr. Greenslade. You've taken up this London Reformation scheme just as you took up the cottagers' poultry scheme, and by-and-bye you'll find this Ingar- field as great a bore as that old Cochin China, and you'U wring his neck and stop his crowing for ever ! Cynthia {indignantly). How can you speak so? How little you know me ! Dick. How Httle you know yourself ! Cynthia. The last four months life has become charged with terrible meaning to me. My whole future is devoted to carrying out my husband's will. Dick. It isn't his will. It was never signed. Cynthia. It would have been if he had lived another hour. I promised him I would carry it out. Dick. But he wasn't — Cynthia. What ? Dick. I should pain you. Cynthia. No ; it's nearly a year. Go on. ACT I THE CRUSADERS 5 Dick. His health — his mind — Cynthia. Yes, poor man ! But he was quite harm- less, only very eccentric. And he was a great public benefactor. Dick. He made a splendid fortune out of his non- intoxicant beverages. Cynthia. It was the building-land that made his fortune. {Rises indigjiantly.) I hate you ! Dick. Why? Cynthia. You don't believe in anything ! Dick. I don't beheve in temperance champagne. But I'll beheve in reforming London if {appjvaching her tenderly^ you'll let me be on the committee. Cynthia. Ask Mr. Palsam. If he objects, you could still — Dick. What? Cynthia {retreats from Jmn tip stage) . Help Mr. Ingarfield. {She throws the rose coqiiettishly down stage. He looks at her a moment, the^i goes and picks it up, kisses it, puts it in his button- hole^ Worrell enters right, aiinounces Mrs. Campion-Blake. Enter, door right, Mrs. Campion-Blake, a fussy, ener- getic, talkative society woman, rather showily dressed. She comes down stage centre. Exit Worrell. Cynthia advances to shake hands with Mrs. Campion- Blake. 6 THE CRUSADERS act i Dick puts rose in button-hole, regards it affectionately. Mrs. Cam. My dear, congratulate me. I've got Lord Rodbaston to join the committee. {Shaking hands. ) Cynthia. Lord Rodbaston? Mrs. Cam. The great brewers, Hooper, Barkin & Co. Rodbaston promises to take a very active part in the League, only, of course, we shall have to put the temperance question a little in the back- ground. Qyt^tuia {dubiousl}). But our programme ! {Quot- ing.) " London sober ! London clean ! London honest ! " Mrs. Cam. We'll make London clean and honest first — Cynthia. But Mr. Ingarfield — Mrs. Cam. My dear child, we shall never reform London if we begin by offending everybody. Ah ! How d'ye do, Mr. Rusper? {Co?nes to Dick, shakes hands.) Now tell me, Lord Burnham must positively be president ! Dick. Yes ; he's coming here this afternoon to meet Mr. Ingarfield. Mrs. Cam. {shows great satisfaction). There's a dear fellow. It's a million pities we can't get the Marquis of Bicester ! Cynthia. Can't we ? {Flaying with her rose list- lessly.) ACT I THE CRUSADERS 7 Mrs. Cam. My dear, can you ask, after Mr. Ingar- field's attacks upon the great ground landlords of London ? Mr. Ingarfield is so impracticable ! So injudicious ! ^/z/^r Worrell, 7'ightdoo7\ He annotmces Mr. Palsam, and exit. Enter right, Mr. Palsam, a thin, pale, weedy, nervous, unhealthy-looking little man, about thirty-five to forty, very short-sighted, precise, fidgetty, excitable, waspish, narrow, sincere, with a constant habit of nervously washing his hands, and a painfully earnest manner. Dick nods coolly to Palsam as he passes. Mrs. Campion-Blake bows slightly. Palsam comes to Cynthia, shakes hands. Palsam {he always speaks in the same painfully earnest majiner). I must speak to you ! It's most important ! (Cynthia and Palsam move down stage. Mrs. Campion-Blake goes to Dick and talks with hi7n.) Palsam. Your new French maid. Cynthia. Victorine ? Palsam. Where was she last Sunday afternoon ? Cynthia. She went out. Palsam. Where ? Cynthia. I didn't ask. It's no business of mine. 8 THE CRUSADERS act i Palsam {pained beyond measure^. Oh! my dear Mrs. Greenslade, no business of yours ? I saw her in the Green Park, walking with a soldier — at least, I'm almost sure it was she — I'm very short-sighted — his arm was round her waist. {Reprovingly,^ No business of yours ! Cynthia. But you're not sure. Palsam. Promise me you'll question her. Cynthia. She wouldn't tell me. Palsam. Yes she would, if you approached her in the right way. There's a way of getting at the truth in these cases. Besides, wouldn't it be much better to err on the right side, and accuse her wrongfully, rather than let her escape if she's guilty? Cynthia. Guilty of what ? Palsam. Well, she's French. I'm sorry to say it, but such a thing as real, genuine morality, as we know it in England, doesn't exist in the whole of the French nation. Besides, we can't be too particular — Cynthl\. Really, Mr. Palsam — {going away from him) . Palsam. Well, I thought it my duty to caution you. {Following her np.) I implore you not to let the matter rest I felt so grieved when I heard you had taken a French maid ; it upset me for days ! I do think it's so wicked of people ! — {He goes muttering up to chair, seats himself, genuinely distressed.) Dick {to Mrs. Campion-Blake). Jolly lot of nice people on your committee. ACT I THE CRUSADERS 9 Mrs. Cam. {rattling on to Dick). Yes, it's quite a democratic movement amongst the aristocracy. The Duchess of Launceston said to me the other day — such a charming woman, the duchess — the duchess said, " Mrs. Campion-Blake, this London Reforma- tion League is bound to succeed. You're all so terribly in earnest." And with Lord Burnham as president — Palsam {jumps up, startled'). The Bishop of Huntingdon is to be president — Mrs. Cam. My dear Mr. Palsam, you're dreaming. The Bishop of Huntingdon has no social influence whatever. Besides, he's Low Church, and really one might as well be dead and buried at once ! No ; Lord Burnham has consented. Palsam {vigorously'). I really must protest against the way in which everything is being taken out of my hands. As Mr. Greenslade's acting trustee I am empowered — Mrs. Cam. Pardon me ! Mr. Greenslade's first will remains in force — everything is legally Mrs. Greenslade's. Palsam. That makes no difference. I — Mrs. Cam. But Hsten a moment — Palsam. I cannot ! I will not argue ! It always excites me so ! and Pm not strong. / have decided that the Bishop of Huntingdon shall be the president. {Seating Jiiniself resolutely.) Mrs. Cam. And we have decided that Lord Burn- lO THE CRUSADERS act i ham shall be president. {Seating herself resolutely.) Haven't we, dear? Cynthia {holding the rose over her head, playing with it above her nose). I wish we could reform London without quarrelling like cats and dogs every time we meet. ( Going slowly to table, bii?ying her face in the rose-tree^ Mrs. Cam. {resignedly). Of course the decision rests entirely with you. Enter Worrell, who annoimces Lord Burnhaivl Enter Lord Burnham, a veiy distinguished-looking man about sixty; affable, slvewd, well-bred, a genial cynic. {Exit Worrell.) Lord Burnham cojnes doivn to Cynthla., bows to Mrs. Campion-Blake. Cynthia. How d'ye do? {Shaking hatids.) It's so kind of you to be our president. (Palsam listens attentively, Mrs. Campion-Blake also.) Now we shall begin work in real earnest ! (Palsam shows angry despair, tur?is half round in his chair with a despairing gesture, crosses his legs, bites his thumb. Mrs. Campion-Blake shows triumph.) Cynthia {noticing Palsaim). Mr. Palsam {i^ery engagingly), Vm sure you'll consider it an honour to ACT I THE CRUSADERS ii aid Lord Burnham in our great work. (Palsam comes forward. Cynthia introduces.^ Mr. Palsam, our vice-president ! Lord Burnham, our president! {em- phatically. The two men bow.) Palsam. Of course, if Lord Burnham has consid- ered the solemn responsibility ! — Lord Burnham. Well, on second thoughts, I'm afraid I'm scarcely fitted for the post — Mrs. Cam. {quickly). You are positively the only man in London who is fitted ! Palsam. You'll pardon me, but — Cynthia {sweetly) . Mr. Palsam, it is quite settled. Will you be seated? {Points to sofa.) Palsam {goes to sofa, 7nuttering) . It is so wrong of people ! But he'll do something, and then {joyfully) I'll make an example of him ! Lord Burnham {looking at Palsam). {Aside.) Rather a mangy vice-president ! {Aloud.) Yes, on consideration, I'm a busy man, and — Mrs. Cam. Oh, but the president's position is quite honorary. There is nothing to do. Lord Burnham. I shall not be expected to under- take the reformation of any individual Londoner ? Mrs. Cam. Oh, not at all ! Lord Burnham. Not even myself? Palsam {solemnly). The committee of the London Reformation League do not stand in need of any reformation themselves, except in trifles. 12 THE CRUSADERS act i Cynthia. We all approach perfection as nearly as is endurable for our neighbours, except in trifles ! Dick {strikes in cheerfully). I know I've been getting better ever since I've been coming here ; and now I feel good enough for anything, — good enough to be on the committee ! Lord Burnham. I've no doubt the moral atmos- phere is bracing, and {glancing at Cynthia and Mrs. Campion- Blake) enchanting. And if I consulted only my own narrow, selfish wish to improve my own charac- ter, I'm sure I couldn't do it under better auspices. But I've always considered it a pecuHarly base kind of treachery to be any better than my neighbours. It's leaving them in the lurch, and I can't do it. Now I'm fond of racing — (Palsam shows great pain and disgust.) Mrs. Cam. Why not? A fine, manly, English sport ! There's nothing in horse-racing incompatible with the London Reformation League. Besides, if you lend us the support of your name to improve society in some ways, that surely gives you a little license to — a — exercise your discretion in — a — some other ways. Lord Burnham. It isn't my discretion I want to exercise, it's my indiscretion that I want to have an occasional galop. Cynthia {implorifigly) . Oh, but you could help us so much ! Your name alone would be so valu- able ! ACT I THE CRUSADERS 13 Lord Burnham. Well, if my name will improve society — Mrs. Cam. Oh, it will ! it will ! An old title car- ries so much weight ! ( Vejy coaxingly.) You will be our first president ? Lord Burnham. Well, till you can get somebody better. {Rises.) Now tell me, what are we doing? How far have we reformed London at present ? Have we made a start? Cynthia. Oh yes ! We have taken five hundred poor seamstresses out of the worst sweating shops in the East End, and set them to grow roses on a rose- farm near Wimbledon Common. Look ! {pointifig to the rose-tree). This is the result. Lord Burnham {smells roses) . Delicious ! Cynthia {enthusiastically). One can't have too many roses ! And it's such a lovely industry ! Lord Burnham. Did they grow these ? Cynthia. Yes ; under gardeners, of course. We have forty experienced gardeners to teach them. Lord Burnham. Does the rose-farm pay ? Cynthia. Not at present. But it doesn't matter, because we've so much money coming in, we don't know what to do with it. Lord Burnham. May I ask what is the precise sum we have available for the reformation of London ? Cynthia. Mr. Greenslade left over a million and a half. Except his ample provision for me, it all goes to carry out Mr. Ingarfield's scheme. 14 THE CRUSADERS act i Lord Burnham. How is it invested? Palsam. In modern residences in Peckham and Cambervvell. Lord Burnham. Of course ! Mr. Greenslade had large building speculations in the south of London. Palsam. Yes ; he built quite a superior style of residence for forty pounds a year ; you might almost call it a suburban mansion. Lord Burnham. In fact, we may be said to owe modern Peckham and Camberwell to Mr. Greenslade, eh? Palsam. And parts of Clapham and Wimbledon. Lord Burnham. What else did he do ? Palsam. He discovered several temperance tonics. I have derived great benefit from his beverages. Lord Burnham. He seems to have done a great deal of reformation altogether. Palsa^l Yes. My lord, I never allow a drop of alcohol inside my house, and, if I may suggest, it would set a very beneficial example if you, as president of the League, would also make a strict rule — Lord Burnham {aghast). Yes ! Yes ! I've rather a good cellar just at present, Mr. Palsam, but — I'll think it over. {Hastily.) Now about this rose-farm ; very dehghtful place, eh, Dick ? Dick. Jolliest place in the world. You'd think you were a hundred miles in the country. And the rose-farmers in their pretty dresses, and singing their ACT I THE CRUSADERS 15 songs ! A most charming idea, Mrs. Greenslade ! {Leans over Cynthia's chair.') Lord Burnham. The rose-farm was your idea, Mrs. Greenslade? Cynthia. Mr. Ingarfield's and mine. Mr. Green- slade bought the forty acres for building, but there were two such pretty old-fashioned cottages — Mrs. Cam. {gushingly). Perfect dreams of cot- tages ! Cynthia. So I persuaded him to give it to me. I keep the cottages furnished, and we have built some new houses for the rose-farmers. Lord Burnham. And these young persons, young girls, young women, or whatever they are — Mrs. Cam. Most of them have titles. Lord Burnham {surprised) . Titles ! Mrs. Cam. Yes. That was my idea. A title is such a powerful incentive to good conduct. So we give them titles for rewards. One is called "The Queen of the Marshal Niels," another "The Lady Gloire de Dijon," and so on. Lord Burnham. Do these titles imply a moral or a horticultural distinction ? Mrs. Cam. Both moral and horticultural. Palsam. During the winter I have arranged for nightly lectures of an improving nature. Lord Burnham. Ah ! that sounds cheerful 1 Enter Worrell, door right, comes down stage a little. i6 THE CRUSADERS act i Worrell. The vvorkingmen members have ar- rived, ma'am. Cynthia. Show them upstairs — Mrs. Cam. The other way — Cynthia. And have some lunch prepared for Mr. Ingarfield in the next room. (Worrell goes back to door right.) Lord Burnham. We have workingmen on our committee ? Mrs. Cam. Only three. It pleases the working- classes, and {benevolently) it doesn't do any harm. Worrell {looking off). Mr. Ingarfield and Miss Dell have just come in, ma'am. Cynthia {shows some slight agitation at the mention of Ingarfield's name). Show them in here. No {rises) J I'll speak to them first in the library. (Palsam watches Cynthia very suspiciously.) {Exit Worrell. Cynthia follozvs him.) Palsam {has been watching her sourly and suspi- ciously). {Aside.) She's gone to settle something important behind my back. ( Going up to door right.) {Aside.) They're always settling things without con- sulting me ! {Goes off, muttering.) Lord Burnham, Dick, and Mrs. Campion- Blake have watched him off. (Lord '^\5R^Y{k^i looks grave ^ Dick. You're in for a good thing, sir ! ACT I THE CRUSADERS 17 Lord Burnham {rises) . I shall never live up to it, Dick. ( Comes down stage a few steps till he is on a level with Dick. The two men look at each other. Dick laughs at his father. Lord Burnhaini walks gravely and moodily down to sofa, sits, looks anxious and solemn.) Dick. I say, Mrs. Blake, I've just taken a little place near the rose-farm at Wimbledon, and I can come over occasionally. Mrs. Cam. That will be sweet of you. Lord Burnham {has been listening) . Dick ! Dick {comes down to Lord Burnham) . Sir ! Mrs. Cam. {rises, takes out her watch). It's nearly time for the committee. ( Goes up to foot of stair- case, looks up at it attentively, listenifig.) Lord Burnham {confidentially, in a tone of kind reproof) . No damned nonsense with this Mrs. Green- slade ! Dick. Damned nonsense, sir? Lord Burnham. Yes. This house you've taken at Wimbledon ! I'm not straitlaced, but one must think a little about pubHc opinion. It doesn't do to get found out — it's so awkward all round. Dick. I assure you, sir, there isn't the least foun- dation. Mrs. Cam. {coming down stage) . As usual ! Our workingmen members are quarrelling amongst them- selves. c i8 THE CRUSADERS act i Lord Burnhmi. Apparently we are a hybrid com- mittee. What's this Ingarfield Uke ? Mrs. Cam. Oh, he's a new variety of inspired idiot. Something between an angel, a fool, and a poet. And atrociously in earnest ! A sort of Shelley from Peck- ham Rye. Poor old Greenslade was as mad as a hatter, and Mr. Palsam worried him into a death-bed repentance, and got him to leave all his money to this scheme of Ingarfield's. Lord Burnham. And that's how we come to be reforming London at this prodigious rate. Mrs. Cam. Yes. Well, if we don't do any good, we shan't do any harm. Oh, I want you to dine with us one evening, and I'll ask Mr. Ingarfield. He's rather good fun, if you take him in small doses. Lord Burnham. Thank you, I — a — I — Mrs. Cam. You're going to say " No," but you shall choose your own evening. And you shan't be bored. I'll ask Madame Fanny Blower, the American gymnast. Have you seen her performance ? Lord Burnham. No — I — Mrs. Cam. Oh, she's adorable ! She gives drawing- room gymnastics after dinner. It isn't the least indeli- cate — after the first shock. It's a splendid lesson in digestion to all diners-out. Dick. I've seen her. Very fine woman, and not at all overdressed. Mrs. Cam. You'll come too, Mr. Rusper? Dick. Delighted. I say, who's this Miss Una Dell ? ACT I THE CRUSADERS 19 Mrs. Cam. She's the grand-daughter of the mad Chartist poet. She's a good deal madder than poor dear Ingarfield — Door right opens. Dick {warningly) . Hush ! Enter door right Cynthia and Philos Ingarfield ; he is about thirty, loiig light curly hair parted in the middle, worn eager face, high narrow forehead ; lean, nervous, dreamy, absorbed. They come down stage towards table, Cynthia a step or two in advance of Ingarfield. Una Dell, a sensitive, shy, enthusiastic girl, about twenty, comes to door light, enters a step or tivo and stands there. Cynthia {to Ingarfield, with great concern). You're tired ! You're hungry ! Philos {looking at her with great tenderness) . No ! My work is food and rest to me ! My work ! {aside, very softly) and my love for you ! Dick {aside, Jealously). That long-haired chap's bowling me out ! Cynthl4. Lord Burnham, may I present Mr. Philos Ingarfield ? (Ingarfield and'LoRV) Burnham bow.) (Mrs. Campion-Blake engages Philos, talks to him.) 20 THE CRUSADERS act i Cynthia. And {looking round foi- Una, who stands against door). Where's — Oh, there you are ! Come here ! (Una comes down.) Worrell enters right, conies down to Cynthl\. Cynthl\ {continuing, as Una conies do7un). Lord Burnham, this is Miss Una Dell. On a platform she can talk to three thousand miners. In a drawing-room she hasn't a word to say. Lord Burnila.m {bows to Una, motions her to a seat on sofa). I hope we shall find some subject. Cynthla {laughing) . Try social science. ( Goes a step or tivo back, where she is joined by Worrell, who whispers her.) Mrs. Cam. {to Philos) . Sit down ! You are really kiUing yourself. ( Gets Philos into chair.) Now you must be very nice to Lord Burnham ! He can be of the greatest use to your scheme. Philos {j^ery earnestly). Does he love his fellow- men? Mrs. Cam. {dubiously). Well, not particularly — but he has immense social influence. I'm afraid he's rather worldly {shaking her head sadly) , not serious, not earnest, not one of us. Still, we must put up with his frivolity for the good of London. Cynthia (/^Worrell). Yes; in that room {indi- cating door left) . {Exit Worrell door left) (Cynthia Joins Philos and T^Irs. Campion- Blake.) ACT I THE CRUSADERS 2i Dick {has been watching Mrs. Campion- Blake ///j-j-- ing about Philos — aside) . What women can see in that fellow ! I wish I could ship him off to Costa Rica along with his ne'er-do-wells. ( Watches Cynthia and Mrs. Campion- Blake.) Una {Jias been talking enthusiastically to Lord BuRNHAM, suddenly). Oh, but I love blackguards ! I love gaol-birds ! I love outcasts of all sorts ! I love everybody that's unfortunate, and miserable, and ugly, and wicked, and stupid ! Don't you love them ? Lord Burnham. At some distance. Una. Oh, but you'll have to love them if you want to reform them. You'll never do it without love. Lord Burnham {looks disconcerted). {Aside.) I shall resign the first chance I get. Mrs. Cam. {effusively to Philos) . Yes ; you must ! Lord Burnham is positively dying to dine with you ! Philos. My dinner wouldn't suit Lord Burnham. Lord Burnham. Why not ? Philos. It's so plain. Cynthia. Why do you live like a hermit? Philos. I can't feast while my brothers and sisters are starving. Mrs. Cam. Your brothers and sisters ? Where are they? Philos. In the gutters, in the alleys, in the gaols and work-houses. There are hundreds of thousands of them in the East of London that never smile. 22 THE CRUSADERS act i Mrs. Cam. Poor creatures ! Well, now Lord Burn- ham is president, we shall soon put matters right for them ! You'll put Mr. Ingarfield's scheme into opera- tion at once. Lord Burnham. Lord Burnham. Certainly. Perhaps Mr. Ingar- field will give me a few details. Where do we start ? Philos. I start with the condition of London at the present moment. What have we made of our city? What are we going to make of it? Put up twenty- story flats all over the West End as far as Richmond, build Clapham Junctions all over the suburbs, and let the East End sprawl in its misery till it covers Essex. That's London's present ideal. Is it yours ? Lord Burnham. I regret to say I have no ideals. Una. No ideals? Lord Burnham. No ; you see I've been in Parlia- ment since I was twenty- two. Philos. I want to put an ideal London before every Londoner. I want all good citizens to stand in Hne and say to London filth, to London ugliness, to food adulteration, to slums, to bad drains, to legal chicanery, to horse-racing, to the Stock Exchange, and to all other ways of living upon your neighbour with- out working for him, to the thief, to the idle, to the drunkard, to the jerry house-builder, — I want Lon- doners to say to all of them, — "We'll abolish you ! " Lord Burnham. And what do you suppose all these good folks will say in reply ? ACT I THE CRUSADERS 23 Dick {in a low aside). "We'll see you damned first ! " Enter Worrell door left. Philos {contimiing excitedly) . I begin — Worrell. Mr. Ingarfield's luncheon is served. {Crosses to door right, exit.) Lord Burnham. Well, where do we begin ? Philos. Everywhere where there is dishonesty, misery, disease, despair ! I want to make every Londoner feel that every broken waif of humanity in this city, no matter how evil, wretched, ignorant, sunken, diseased, is his brother, his sister, his child ! Lord Burnham. I fancy we've heard something like this before. Una. Yes ; it's two thousand years old, or there- abouts. Mr. Ingarfield only preaches what everybody beheves, and nobody practises. Philos {absorbed, continuing). I want to bind all Londoners in one task, not to cease or rest till they have made London beautiful, London happy, London honest, London healthy, London sober, London clean, London free, from north to south, from west to east, in every street, in every home ! Lord Burnham. I don't quite catch the method ! Una. Don't you? It's so easy! By persuasion ! There's no other way of making people better. Men don't keep on being foolish for ever. They used to 24 THE CRUSADERS act i cut one another's throats. They're beginning to see that's absurd. By-and-bye they'll see it's just as ab- surd to cheat and lie to one another ! Lord Burnham {shakes his head). My dear young lady, believe me, lying is far too venerable and useful an accomplishment for humanity to see its absurd aspect — in our day at least. Worrell enters at door right with tivo telegra?ns ; l)ri?igs tJiem to Philos. Vki^pcsi follows hifn, watch- ing him closely. Philos {taking telegrams from Worrell). Excuse me. {Opens the?n.) Worrell goes to door right, watched by Palsa]\l Exit. Palsam {watching Worrell off veiy suspiciously). It can't be right to bring that French maid into this house ! {Stands moody, distressed.) Philos {having i-ead telegram). My poor ne'er- do-wells ! (Dick listens very attentively.) Cynthia. Where are they? Philos. On board the Avenger, at Portsmouth. The President of Costa Rica refuses to receive them unless they are accompanied by a suitable guardian guaranteed by the English government. Dick. Perhaps the Foreign Office can help you, Mr. Ingarfield. My father is Foreign Secretary — (Lord BurnhajNI looks anxious, frowns, shakes his head at Dick.) ACT I THE CRUSADERS 25 Philos. It would be kind of you. Read these telegrams. {Gives telegrams to Dick.) Lord Burnham. Who are these ne'er-do-wells of yours, Mr. Ingarfield? Philos. Those who have been beaten and trodden underfoot in the struggle for life, — the weak^ the diseased, the ignorant. Lord Burnham. A good many bad characters. Philos. You shouldn't call any man a bad charac- ter till you've changed places with him. Lord Burnham. What shall you do with them ? Philos. I don't know. They've broken loose at Portsmouth ; and the authorities threaten to prosecute me, unless I remove them — Dick {having read telegrams, rises, and hands them back to Philos). There's only one way, Mr. Ingar- field ! You must go to Costa Rica yourself ! (Una shows interest a?id slight alarm.) Philos. Myself ! Cynthia. Impossible ! Mr. Ingarfield cannot be spared from London ! Mrs. Cam. Not till his scheme is in working order. Dick. Mr. Ingarfield will either have to go to Costa Rica, or be prosecuted. This telegram from the mayor of Portsmouth uses pretty strong language. The Portsmouth people don't seem to hke ne'er-do- wells. (Dick hands telegrams to Mrs. Campion-Blake and Cynthia, who read them eagerly.) All Mr. In- 26 THE CRUSADERS act i garfield has to do is to run over to Costa Rica, estab- lish his colony, and leave his scheme in our hands — Palsam {aiithoritatively) . I believe I am the vice- president of this League — Dick {amiably, soothingly). Quite so, Mr. Palsam — leave the scheme in Mr. Palsam's hands. We can make it all right with the Costa Rica government — Lord Burnham {ivaniingly) . I'm not sure, Dick — Dick. We can guarantee Mr. Ingarfield as a suit- able person to look after ne'er-do-wells. It's a mere formahty. Lord Burnhat^i {rises). May I see the telegrams? {Joins Cynthia and Mrs. Campion- Blake. They hand telegrams to him.) Dick {continues, glowitigly). And it's a lovely country ! Don't I wish I had the chance of going ! Philos {ahsoi'bed). I've given my word to them. If I forsake them, what will become of them? Dick. The Portsmouth magistrates will deal with them. Philos {scarcely listening to Dick). And I could see for myself how far the country's suited to receive my oppressed ones. {Sits in armchair, absof'bed^ deliberating.) Dick { plying hiiti) . The country's a perfect para- dise for all classes of people who can't get on here. Why can't they get on here? Because, from consti- tutional reasons, they either don't, or can't, or won't, work. Well, in Costa Rica there's no need for much ACT I THE CRUSADERS 27 work, nothing beyond that sHght amount which is a pleasurable activity. There's the coffee ! All you've got to do is to let it grow, and dry it ! There are the bananas ! All you've got to do is to let them grow, and gather them ! And the vines ! (Palsam looks ferocious^ Talk about Chateau Lafitfe — Palsam {veij 7vaspishly). I object to the Green- slade bequest being squandered in the pernicious industry of intoxication — Dick {comes to hi?n good-humouredly, walks hwi to sofa). Quite so, Mr. Palsam. We'll stick to the coffee and bananas. We must take care these poor ne'er-do-wells don't get rich too suddenly. {Gets Valsku soothed, and seated on sofa.) It might upset them. And when we see each one of them owning a flourishing coffee and banana plantation, instead of loafing about a public-house — by Jove, we shall be happy ! Philos {stiddenly). I'll go with them! It's my duty, and I'll go ! Dick {aside, joyfully). Landed him ! Cynthla. and Mrs. Campion-Blake, very much con- cerned, come to Philos. Cynthia. But you can't be spared. Mrs. Cam. Positively you shan't go. Philos. I must. Cynthia. Is there nothing that would keep you? (Philos looks at her.) 28 THE CRUSADERS act i Una {aside, watching) . Yes. His love for her. Philos. Nothing must keep me, Mrs. Cam. What object is there in your going? Philos. The welfare of seven hundred and sixty poor souls who trust to me. Cynthia. Don't decide now. Let it wait. {Giving back telegrams.') Your lunch — it's waiting in that room. Una, lunch. {To Philos.) You won't go? {Imploringly.) Philos. If I don't, who will ? Una {suddenly) . I will ! Let me take them ! Dick. You ! Impossible ! An emigrant ship is no place for a lady. Una. I'm not much of a lady. I'm a good deal of a woman. I'm safe amongst the miners of Nor- thumberland, and amongst the thieves of the East End. Dick. But you wouldn't be safe in the Avenger. It's the rottenest old tub — Una. And you want Mr. Ingarfield to go ! {To Philos.) Did you hear? You won't go in that ship ? Philos. Yes. Don't fear. {\J^ A pauses, looks at him, then exit left.) (Philos is going after her.) Cynthia {stopping him). Surely you won't risk your life. The ship is dangerous — Philos {shakes his head, smiles, ivith calm assur- ance). No ship will sink with me while my work remains undone. {Exit door left.) ACT I THE CRUSADERS 29 Dick {aside). He'll go. And if I don't bowl him out before he comes back — (Cynthia has watched Ingarfield off left ; stands at door zvatching.) Worrell e?iters door rights announces Mr. Figg, Mr. BuRGE Jawle. FiGG, a dapper, polite, insinuating, finicky, facile, plausi- ble, bald man of forty, enters right, followed by Burge Jawle, afat,jati7idiced, heazy, torpid, olive-complex- ioned man of fifty ; he waddles slowly down stage after Figg. Cynthia closes door left, conies to centre of stage, meets Figg. Exit Worrell right. Figg. How d'ye do? {Shaking hands with Cyn- THM.) You asked me to bring our great social philosopher, Mr. Burge Jawle. (Jawle zvaddles down slowly in an uncon- cerned, torpid way.) Figg {introducing) . Mrs. Greenslade. Cynthia. How d'ye do? {Offering hand.) Jawle {ivaddles up, puts his heazy fat paw in Cynthia's hand, speaks in a heavy drawl zvithout any animation or excitement). Thank you. I am as usual. My health is never robust. My vital processes are extremely slow. I nourish myself with great difficulty. {Holding Cynthia's ha7id — a slight pause ^ Cynthia {a little embarrassed). I'm sorry — 30 THE CRUSADERS act i Jawle. Standing fatigues me. I think I'll sit down. {^Looks I'oiind.') (Lord Burnham rises, offo's his chai?-.) Jawle {looks at if, looks all round, spies a veiy comfortable arjjichair down in corner^. No — that chair seems to be especially adapted to my require- ments. ( Waddles very slowly down, seats himself with g7'eat precision, leans back, places his hands on his stomach, sits placidly absorbed, utterly oblivious of what is going on.) Palsa:m ( To Figg — Cynthia listening) . You were saying that Mr. Jawle's social philosophy will assist us in reforming London. Figg (confdently) . You can't reform London with- out it. He has devoted his whole life to it, and he is at this moment absolutely penniless. The herd do not understand Jawle. By the way (dropping his voice) you could not put Mr. Greenslade's bequest to a better use than by substantially rewarding Jawle's immense services to humanity. Cynthia. Of course if his philosophy helps us to reform London, we ought to pay him for it. Would he accept — Figg. I'll put it delicately to him. I think I can conquer his scruples. (Jawle. gives vent to a peculiar melancholy chuckle^ still sitting sttblimely unconscious in his armchair.) Look ! ( Calls everybody s atten- tion to Jawle, who continues to sit unmoved, with his fat hands on his stomach. All look ^/ Jawle.) He's ACT I THE CRUSADERS 31 often like that for hours ! He has that rare faculty of burying himself ! He's quite unaware of our pres- ence ! We might discuss his whole "system of philos- ophy without his knowing it. Palsam {uiJio has been anxiously waiting to question Figg). Are you quite sure his principles have an improving tendency for young men ? Figg {glibly). My dear sir, Jawle has swept away all the older philosophies entirely. Jawle's is the only rational system of ethics. Cynthia {dubiously) . What does he teach? Figg {same glib tone). Jawle's fundamental doc- trine is the immorality of marriage. {Great surprise on the part of Mrs. Campion- Blake and Cynthia. Palsam jumps up aghast. Dick and Lord Burnham chuckle. Jawle p7'e serves his attitude of placid self absorption in the armchair.) Lord Burnham {after the consternation has sub- sided — very quietly) . And what follows ? Palsam {much disturbed). What? Figg {bland, soothing). Pray don't misunderstand me. Jawle has no objection to marriage in itself, but only as the one great means of promoting human mis- ery. Jawle entertains equal objections to every other method of perpetuating the human race. Am I not right? {Crosses to Jawle, stands over his chair — rather loudly to Jawle, prompting him.) Marriage ! 32 THE CRUSADERS act i Jawle {^faintly rouses himself^ speaks very senten- tiously and autlioritatively). There being an im- mense balance of misery and suffering in every human lot, it necessarily follows that marriage, as the chief means of increasing that misery and suffering, is a criminal and anti-social action. {Relapses into his seIf-absoj-ptio7i, takes no notice whatever of what is going on.) (Dick ajid Lord Burnham a?'e amused.) Cynthia {puzzled). But — if nobody married — FiGG {addresses himself to Palsam). I'm sure you agree with us, Mr. Palsam, that the rapid increase of the human herd is a matter for the gravest alarm — Palsam {^moodily). I've always thought there was far too great a propensity — I can't understand it ! FiGG. Jawle calculates that at the present rate the human race will infallibly exhaust every possible means of subsistence in six generations ! Palsam. Dear me ! Dear me ! What can be done? {Retires to fii'eplace, stands terribly distressed, his lips muttering occasionally^ FiGG. Jawle's system delivers us. {Smiling blandly all around.) I must persuade you all to become members of the Jawle guild. ( With proud satisfac- tion.) I founded the Jawle guild. I was the first to understand Jawle. Mrs. Greenslade, you'll join our guild ? Cynthia. Ye — es. What do you do? FiGG. We discuss Jawle's doctrines. Sometimes THE CRUSADERS 33 Jawle himself comes. But his health is very precari- ous, is it not? {appealing to Jawle. Jawle takes no notice. Yigg prompting ]as\i.-e. i?t a loud tone.) Your health. Jaw^le {arousing himself slightly as before'). Yes; my vital processes are so abnormally slow that at any moment it may become advisable to bring them to a conclusion. {Relapses into self-adso7ptiofi.) (Cynthia looks inquiringly at Figg for an explanation.) Figg {in a low, reverential tone) . Jawle advocates the forcible and abrupt extinction of human life in certain cases — his own included. Cynthia {alarmed) . Not suicide ? Figg {reverently). We trust he won't consider it necessary till he has completed his social philosophy. Cynthia. Oh ! {Leans back in her chair, bewil- dered, gazing at Jawle, luho preserves his attitude of impenetrable self r absorption . ) (Dick, Lord Burnham, and Mrs. Campion- Blake have been talking together.) Mrs. Cam. {gushingly to Lord Burnham). I'm sure you can persuade the Duchess of Launceston to join us. It's so necessary that the reformation of London should be done by our own class, and not allowed to fall into the hands of agitators — {During Mrs. Campion- Blake's speech, Wor- rell has entei-ed on stairs right and come down to foot of staircase^ D 34 THE CRUSADERS act i Worrell {rather alarmed) . I beg pardon, madam — the three parties upstairs — Mrs. Caial (/ {after a pause) . No, I'll stay. {Sighs.) 40 TflE CRUSADERS act i Cynthia. No, no ; it's selfish of me. Philos. It's selfish of me to ask you to share such a life as mine. Have you counted the cost? It will not be easy. Cynthia. You doubt me? I'll take any vow, any promise — Philos. There is no need of that. Cynthia. You trust me? Philos. As my own soul. When I return it will be to claim my bride ? Cynthia. There's my hand ; it's yours. Philos {takes it^ kisses it re%)erently, whispers'). Your lips ? {She bends toiuards him ; he is about to kiss her.) No. I would have you still above me, still out of my reach. And let it show how sacred was my love for you, that lest there should be the least dishonour in my first love for you, I will not kiss your lips till I return. You'll keep that kiss for me ? Cynthia. Till you return to claim your bride. {He kisses her hand again 7'everently.) Curtain falls. {Fifteen months pass between Acts I. and II.) ACT II Scene — The Cottages and Rose-farm at Wimbledon. Two deeply thatched cottages, one on left side running from footlights up to back of stage; the other and larger one is built diagonally across stage on the right. They are both very quaint and old-fashioned, and are completely smothered in roses of all kinds. Roses everywhere about the garden. Doors leading into each cottage. An arch of roses stretches from one cottage to another at back. Garden seats and an old tree-trunk down stage. It is the height of summer. A summer sunset at the beginning of act; moonlight during the later part. Enter Dick /« evening dress fro?n door of cottage at back, comes down to back of garden seat, looks tip at balcony. Dick. How much longer do you mean to keep me dangling after you, madam? I've wasted fifteen months on your committee, and I've neither reformed London, nor unreformed you. ( Walking up towards 41 42 THE CRUSADERS act ii balcony.^ I wonder whether she knows where that Ingarfield fellow really is. He's been back m Eng- land more than a week. I've bowled him out. But when does my innings begin? (^Looking round. ^ I've a good mind to risk it to-night. ( Going icp balcony, steps cautiously.') Enter from cottage at back Lord Burnham in evening dress, ivith telegrams and despatches in hand, evi- dently excited and in bad temper. Dick {^on balcony, opens window) . Window open ! Her room ! {^Looks in, coj?ies back to front.) It's too bad to throw temptation in my way hke this ! Lord Burnham {^turning in vexation, catches sight ^/Dick). Dick! Dick {surprised, comes huniedly down). Sir? Lord Burnham. What the devil are you doing there ? Dick {lamely) . I was just a — {seeing the despatches in Lord Burnham's hand). More bad news from Costa Rica, sir? Lord Burnham. I wish Costa Rica was at the bottom of the sea ! Dick {following him). Who could have imagined that confounded Ingarfield would have got us into such a mess with the Costa Rica Government? Lord Burnham. Who could have imagined any- thing else? {Sitting on garden seat.) ACT II THE CRUSADERS 43 Dick. We can't really be liable. Lord Burnham. We gave a guarantee that he should look after his damned ne'er-do-wells. Well, naturally the Costa Rica Government say the ne'er- do-wells weren't looked after, or the rioting and plun- dering would never have happened ; and we shall have to pay four or five million damages. Dick {cheerfully). There must be some way out of it. International law is so jolly foggy. Can't we bring a big claim against Costa Rica for unlawfully imprisoning Ingarfield ? Lord Burnham. It was his escape that was un- lawful. They're demanding we should send him back to stand his trial. Dick. Well, let's catch him, and send him back, and tell them to take it out of him. Lord Burnham. So I would, but the political dissenters have taken it up, and they're making a hero and a martyr of Ingarfield. This country would be easy to govern if it were not for the pohtical dis- senters. They're calling mass- meetings against the government everywhere, — Manchester to-morrow, Newcastle on Thursday. {Rises angrily, comes up to Dick.) Now understand me, I've had enough of this tomfoolery ! Dick. You don't call reforming London, tomfool- ery, sir? Lord Burnham. Reform my grandmother ! Dick. Well, sir, you're President, and if you bring 44 THE CRUSADERS act ii forward a comprehensive scheme of ancestral im- provement, I daresay we can work it in. Lord Burnham {hurt). It's good taste to jeer at me, Dick, after having ruined my reputation before the country ! Dick. I beg your pardon, sir. Lord Burnham. Then don't disgrace me any further ! Dick. What do you mean? Lord Burnham. You're a married man. People are talking about you and Mrs. Greenslade. Dick. On my honour, there's been no more than a harmless flirtation. Lord Burnham. Then break it off, give up your house down here, come back to town with me to- night, and don't see her any more. Dick {shuffling away). I can't come back to-night. Lord Burnham. You won't? I haven't been a bad father to you, Dick. Dick. I promise you, sir, there shall be no occa- sion for any future gossip about me and that lady. ( Holds out hand. ) Lord Burnham {looks at him). I believe you. {Takes hand, shakes it cordially^ And we'll give up reforming London. I've had enough of it. I shall resign at once. If we could only find where this fellow Ingarfield is ! Read those. ( Giving telegrams and despatches to Dick, who goes to seat and reads them.) ACT II THE CRUSADERS 45 Cynthia ifi evening dress, without wrap, enters from cottage at back, comes down. Lord Burnham. I wish the Costa Rica people had hanged him — Dick. Eh? Lord Burnham. By mistake. They could have apologised for it. Cynthia. What's the matter, Lord Burnham? Lord Burnham. I'm very sorry, Mrs. Greenslade, that we ever tried our hand at improving this very excellent planet, just as it was revolving on its own axis so comfortably. Cynthia. You've heard of the public meeting. Lord Burnham. At Newcastle? Cynthia. Newcastle ? No ; here in Wimbledon. Lord Burnham. Wimbledon? Cynthia. The residents have summoned a public meeting calling upon us to remove the rose-farm, because they say the rose-farming girls have not been behaving nicely, and are spoiling the neighbour- hood. Lord Burnham. They don't put it down to the government ? Cynthia. No ; not at present. Lord Burnham. That's lucky. I must resign my presidency before they do. Cynthia. Oh, you won't desert us just as every- thing is going wrong ! 46 THE CRUSADERS act ii Lord Burnham. I'm afraid I must. Dick {aside, looking at Cynthia). She's more charming than ever. What a fool I was to promise to give her up ! I won't ! Lord Burnham. You told me Mr. Ingarfield might be here to-night. Cynthia {embarrassed). I thought he might be. {Turns away.) Lord Burnham. You've not seen him since his return from Costa Rica? Cynthia. No. Lord Burnham. It would be wise for him to meet me. Cynthia. Why won't you tell me if the Govern- ment will send him back to stand his trial ? Lord Burnham. I must not pledge myself. Are you in personal communication with him ? Cynthia. No ; but I could send him a message. Lord Burnham. Tell him I wish to see him at once in your presence — Cynthia. In my presence? Lord Burnham. Is there any objection? Cynthia. No. When and where shall it be ? Lord Burnham. If I could see him before the Cabinet meeting to-morrow afternoon. Would to- morrow at eleven here be convenient to you? Cynthia. Yes. {Aside.) I shall have to meet him ! {Looks rather perplexed.) ACT II THE CRUSADERS 47 Palsam /';/ evening dress enters from cottage at back, comes gingerly down. (Dick has risen, brings telegrams and de- spatches to Lord Burnham.) Dick. What's to be done, sir? Lord Burnham. Resign, go to the country, and get kicked out. ( Catching sight of Palsam.) Here's that Httle mongrel ! {Hurries to garden seat, sits and assumes profound interest in the despatches.) (Dick hurriedly crosses over to Cynthia, talks with her.) (Palsaim looks on each side to see whom he shall victimise. ) Worrell enters fro?n cottage at back with coffee on tray, coifies down to Cynthia and Dick, gives them coffee. (Palsam finally decides to victimise Lord Burnham, co77ies to back of garden seat, leans amiably over to Lord Burnham, who is profoundly occupied with his despatches?) (Cynthia and Dick take coffee from Wor- rell.) Palsam {^coughs, fidgets, then in a very insinuating way) . How very terrible these recent turf-frauds are, my lord ! Lord Burnham (without looking up) . Shocking ! Shocking ! 48 THE CRUSADERS act ii Palsam. And one of your trainers was concerned. Lord Burnham. Was he ? Palsam {in his pleasantest manner, with a sweet insinuating smile). Can't I tempt you to give up horse-racing, my lord ? Lord Burnham {with affable contempt, in quite an indifferent tone). I don't think so, Mr. Palsam. I don't think so. {Calls T)ick from Cynthia, takes him a step or two up stage.) (^^^ORRELL crosses with coffee to Palsam.) Lord Burnham {poijiting out something in despatch as if calling Dick's attentio7i to it, in a low tone to Dick). If somebody doesn't kick Palsam, I shall. ( Pockets despa tch es . ) Dick. I think I would. {Talks to Cynthia.) Cynthia {to Worrell, who is going up stage). Worrell ! (Worrell stops. Palsaisi watches Worrell suspiciously.) Cynthia. Ask Victorine to bring my lace shawl. Worrell. Yes, madam. {Exit i?ifo cottage right, watched by Palsam, who the moment he has gone off, turns to Cynthia.) Palsam. Is that — quite — prudent ? Cynthia {blankly). What? Palsam. There was quite a guilty look on his face when you mentioned Victorine. Cynthia {stai-es at Palsam, calmly) . What do you mean, Mr. Palsam? ACT 11 THE CRUSADERS 49 Palsam {quickly, nervously). Oh, I don't positively accuse him ; but she is French, you know. Cynthia. Worrell is a most respectable man. Palsam {eagerly). That's it ! that's it ! You never know what's underneath outward respectability. Cynthia {rises^ calmly indignant). I don't wish to know. Palsam {aside). There's something wrong going on here. I feel it's my duty to miss my last train and find out what it is. I will ! (ViCTORiNE, a smart, good-looking French maid, enters from cottage at back with Cynthia's shawl.) ViCTORiNE. Madame's shawl. (Dick takes shawl from Victorine and goes down to Cynthia with it. Palsam watches Victorine very closely. Dick wraps shawl round C\^thl4.) Victorine. Which cottage will madame please to occupy to-night ? Cynthl\. My own, Victorine. (Dick, who is cloaking Cynthia, shows he notices this.) Worrell enters, collects coffee cups, waits. Victorine. And Madame Blake ? Cynthu. Mrs. Blake will stay as usual in her own rooms in the visitors' cottage. e 50 THE CRUSADERS act ii Palsam {aside). That creature is asking those questions for some purpose. {To Cynthia.) Don't you find it very inconvenient having visitors here? Cynthia. Rather, the cottages being divided. Palsam. How do you arrange the — a — accom- modation ? Cynthia. I reserve that cottage {pointing Jeff) entirely for my lady visitors, and I send my gentle- men to the httle inn — it's very comfortable. My own rooms and the reception-rooms are all on that side. {Pointing right.) Why ? Palsam. Oh, nothing, nothing. ( Watching Vic- TORiNE a7id Worrell.) Worrell {has been watching his chance to speak to Cynthlv). Mr. Portal is in the drawing-room, madam, and would like to see you and Lord Burn- ham. Lord Burnh.a.m. See me? Cynthla. He is the curate here. I suppose he has come about the rose-farmers. Palsam {all alive with curiosity). We'd better all go into the drawing-room. My lord — if you'll come — Lord Burnham. Thank you. I'm very comfort- able where I am. {Seated with Cynthia.) Cynthia. Show Mr. Portal to us here. {Exit Worrell at back.) Victorine {waiting). Madame has no further commands? ACT II THE CRUSADERS 51 Cynthia. Wait for me in my sitting-room down- stairs, Victorine. (^Jt://' Victorine at back.) Palsam. It's terrible to think what may have been going on at this rose-farm in our absence. This matter must be thoroughly probed. (/;/ great g/ee.) We mustn't shrink from knowing the truth merely because it may be shocking and disgusting. {Fuss- ing — all alert.) Enter Worrell at hack, showing in the Rev. Alger- non Portal, a bland curate, with lank, sandy hair, and precise, rather nervous manners. y^OK^YiA. {announces). Mr. Portal ! {Exit.) Portal {7vith precise, nervous, cordial manner). My dear Mrs. Greenslade, Pve taken the really un- pardonable liberty of calling at this hour because I heard that Lord Burnham was with you. {Nervous little chuckle — looking at Lord Burnham.) Cynthia {pirsents). Mr. Portal — Lord Burnham. Portal. I am charged to convey to you a very important decision arrived at by the inhabitants of Wimbledon with respect to these young persons em- ployed on your rose-farm — Palsam {very distressed and agitated). Dear me ! dear me ! Portal {glances at Palsam sympathisingly). Yes, it is indeed a painful subject. {Turns to Lord Burn- ham.) I thought it might be advantageous to you. 52 THE CRUSADERS act ii Lord Burnharn, to know that unless the rose-farm is immediately removed from Wimbledon, our member will question the Home Secretary on the subject. I need not add the inhabitants of Wimbledon are warm supporters of the Government, but — really — you — a — understand. {Ends in a little nervous clmckle.) Lord Burnham. Not quite. Who is aggrieved ? Portal. The better class of residents in Wimble- don. I have had constant complaints. Balsam. Dear me ! Portal {looks sympathisingly at Palsam). Ye-es ! {Turns to Lord Burnham.) Wimbledon being a respectable residential neighbourhood, of course the mission of the Church in a respectable neighbourhood is — a — naturally to attend to the needs of the re- spectable residential — a — a — residents, and really, when a quantity of badly behaved persons are brought into a respectable neighbourhood, I am sure, my lord, you'll agree with me that a — it is — a — {ncriwus little chuckle') a — most embarrassing. Lord BuRNHA^L Decidedly, Mr. Portal, wicked people are very embarrassing, and the question what to do with them — both in this world and the next — is beset with difficulties. Cynthia. But we have engaged most respectable matrons. Portal. I fear you cannot rely upon them. Palsam. I knew those matrons weren't to be trusted. THE CRUSADERS 53 Portal. The most extraordinary conduct is fre- quent. Palsam. Dear me ! dear me ! Portal. I have myself witnessed — a — Palsam {eagej'/y) . Yes — what ? Portal. Some very indecorous behaviour. Palsainl Could you point out the young per- sons? Portal. There is one in particular. She is known amongst her companions as the Queen of the Mar- shal Niels. Cynthla.. But that's our model girl ! Dick (/la// aside) . What must all the rest be like ! Palsam. My lord, this is terrible, and I think you, as President — Lord Burnha^l I trust I shall not be held respon- sible for the very natural consequences of taking these poor, ignorant women from a state of semi-starvation, feeding them well, and turning them loose in a place like this. Excuse me, Mr. Portal {rises), I cannot consider this as any business of mine {taking out cigar-case, selecting cigar) . Palsa^l Oh, my lord, when anything wicked is taking place, it's everybody's business — it's your business, it's my business — Lord Burnhai^l Ah, well, then, perhaps you'll be good enough to attend to it while I smoke my cigar. ( Exit along garden path . ) Palsam. Mr. Portal, we must look into this at 54 THE CRUSADERS act ii once. If you'll come with me, I'll conduct you to these young women's quarters, ^lis. Greenslade, per- haps you'll accompany us, and then we can thoroughly discuss all the particulars. Cyxthia. I really can't leave my guests. Palsam. Come along, Mr. Portal. {Fortal joins him at back of seat ; affectionately links his ann in Portal's, and takes him up to archway at back. As they aj-e going off, looks up at Portal.) Of what nature was this indecorous behaviour? (^Exit zuith Portal voy slowly at archway^ (Dick watches Palsam off, comes to back of seat.) Dick. Mrs. Greenslade — Cynthl\. Well? Dick. I've promised my father to break it off. Cynthl\. Break what off? Dick. My attachment to you. C\'NTHiA. Shall you keep your promise ? Dick. Yes — after to-morrow. Cynthl\. Why not to-night ? Dick {approaching her passionately). Because this place was built on purpose to play Romeo and Juliet — Cynthia. Indeed it wasn't ; it was built for a farm- house. Dick {passionately) . Cynthia ! Cyxthl\. Take care ! Mrs. Blake can see us. Dick {following her). I've followed you like a spaniel, and how have you rewarded me? THE CRUSADERS 55 Cynthia. I've given you thousands of civil words, hundreds of smiles, dozens of roses, and several pres- sures of the hand. Dick. Do you call that rewarding? Cynthia. You talk of "rewarding"? You don't know what love means. Mrs. Campion- Blake eiiters from cottage, door right. Dick. Cynthia, for Heaven's sake don't play cat and mouse with me any longer ! Tell me, is there any hope ? (^Leaning over the seat close to her.) (Mrs. Campion-Blake comes down behind Dick.) Mrs. Cam. Bad children ! (Dick steps backwards, Cynthl^ shows a little confusion^ Bad children ! {To Dick.) Run away ! I want to speak to Mrs. Greenslade. {More commandingly.) Run away ! I'm ashamed of you ! ( Conies left of seat beside Cynthia.) (Dick exits sulkily right.) Mrs. Cam. {very reprovingly). Now, my dear, this must positively stop ! Cynthia {innocently) . What must ? Mrs. Cam. Don't fence ! If Mr. Palsam finds out anything, what will be the end of it ? Cynthia. Oh, Mr. Palsam is so busy suspecting all the innocent people, he has no time to attend to — {Stops, confused.) Mrs. Cam. The guilty ! Cynthia. No — no, indeed ! 56 THE CRUSADERS act ii Mrs. Cam. Well, shall we say — the not proven ? Cynthia. But you encouraged Mr. Rusper's visits. Mrs. Cam. I know I did. I wanted him and his father to join the League. How was I to know that you would be so foolish as to allow him to make love to you ? However, now that the Duchess of Launces- ton has joined us, we can do very well without them. The Duchess is the dearest woman ! the sweetest woman ! — I never met with any woman with whom I had so much real sympathy as the Duchess ! — but she is just a little bit prudish, and I wouldn't have that dear creature's name connected with the faintest breath of scandal. Cynthia (a little hotly) . You need not fear. There will be no scandal. Mrs. Cam. That's precisely what Lady Barringer said the very night before she eloped with her groom. Now, my dear, for the Duchess's sake as well as for your own, you must give Mr. Rusper his conge. Be- sides, wasn't there some kind of an understanding between you and Mr. Ingarfield? {Watching Cyn- thia closely.) Cynthia {rather confused). No — at least — I did think I cared for him, but that was more than a year ago. Mrs. Ca:m. He has no claim on you? Cynthu. No — except — well, I was fooHsh enough to promise him one kiss when he returned from Costa Rica, but I meant at the end of a few weeks or months. ACT II THE CRUSADERS 57 and I didn't suppose that everything was going wrong as it has done. Mrs. Cam. Just so ! We must reorganise the reformation of London on a totally new basis. Burn- ham wants to resign. We'll let him. Mr. Palsam and Mr. Ingarfield must both be got rid of, and we must take the matter in our own hands. Cynthia. Whose hands? Mrs. Cam. Yours and mine, with the Duchess for President. And then we shall reform London in real earnest. Cynthla. But the Duchess is very high church, and Mr. Greenslade detested high church. Mrs. Cam. My dear, poor Mr. Greenslade was not in a fit mental state to be able to judge ; it requires a very profound intellect to understand such things. Depend on it, it's the only way. (Cynthia walks slowly to right and plucks roses.) Mrs. Cam. {lookhig at Cynthia). Ingarfield will spoil everything again if he interferes. He must be got rid of somehow ! The Duchess would never en- dure him ! {Exit into cottage, left.) Cynthia. Throw over Mr. Ingarfield ! I wish Una Dell would come. I wonder if my letter reached her. {Goes up to balcony-steps behind seat.) Enter at back Burge Jawle and Figg in evening dress. Jawle {continues his discou?^se as he waddles down stage. Figg brings cushion to seat, very obsequious 58 THE CRUSADERS act ii and attentive) . Yes, the feminine nature is essentially vile, small, narrow, malignant, treacherous — {J>a7/ses, surveys the different seats, sees comfortable corner). I think I will occupy that seat. ( Waddles up to it, arranges his cushion, makes himself comfortable.) I have not assimilated that cold veal pie I had for breakfast yesterday morning. {Tapping his chest.) FiGG. No. I've never been able to understand the rabid admiration current in artistic circles for what is nauseously termed the female form divine. Jawle {a?'7'anging his cushion). True! {Leans, comfortably.) The natural outline of the female figure is hideous and repellant in the extreme. Cynthm {comes down to seat ivith her rose). What are you saying, Mr. Jawle? Jawle. The truth. Take your own case. You are supposed to have considerable personal attractions. Analyse your personal attractions. Take a microscope. Look at your hand. {Taking her hand.) What is it? A coarse, scaly epidermis, studded with huge bristles — Cynthia {angrily withdrawing her hand). But ladies' hands are not meant to be looked at under microscopes. Jawle. What are they meant for? Cynthia {looking at her hand, holding it up in front of her). To be kissed on great occasions. Jawle {shakes his head). Go a step further. Your so-called beauty is built up by the processes of nutrition. Follow the stages of nutrition — ACT II THE CRUSADERS 59 Cynthia {disgusted). Oh, please not, just after dinner ! Jawle {to Figg). See how people resent the truth ! {Composes himself.) (Figg shrugs his shoulders and lifts his eye- brows in sympathy, rises, and goes down to Cynthia. Jawle composes himself , places his hands on his stomach, and goes into a revei'ie.) {Lights appear in the cottage windows^ Figg {to Cynthia). You mustn't be offended with him. We shall not have him with us long. Cynthia. What do you mean? Figg. He has finished the last volume of his social philosophy. By the way, what is the depth of that large pond at the end of the grounds ? Cynthia. From six to nine feet. Why? Figg. Nothing. He contemplated it for more than an hour this morning. I've always thought that the end would come by drowning. Cynthia. Surely Mr. Jawle is not in earnest? Figg (/;/ a tone of benevolent pity) . Not in earnest? Cynthia. At least he won't do it here? Figg {solemnly). Everything is prepared. I am his sole executor. {All the while Jawle remains in absorbed contemplatioji, quite regardless.) Cynthia {rather alarmed). Then, if there is the least danger of his doing anything so foolish and 6o THE CRUSADERS act ii wicked, I beg you'll take him back to town to-night. Tell him so, please ! I really can't have it happen here. {Goes up, meets Lord Burnham, then co7nes down, and sits on rockwork /eft.) (FiGG goes over to Jawle, looks at hhn. Jawle rejnains sublimely imconscious. Figg as- sumes a worshipful attitude.) (Lord Burnham and Dick sti'oll on right, smoking. Dick sees Figg wo?'shipping Jawle, a7id stays at back of seat to look at Jawle.) Figg {to Dick). How wonderful! He has the rarest faculty for burying himself. Dick. Ah ! that'll come in useful when he com- mits suicide. {Strolls up to balcony steps, and sits and sfnokes.) Enter from archway at back Palsam, very excited and self-important. Palsam {coming on a step or tivo, calls off). This way, madam ! {very sternly) . Enter at archway the Queen of the Marshal Neils, a saucy, sly, pretty, commo7i London girl, in a smart cotton gown. She comes in with a great affectation of modesty and sha?nefacedness, curtseying profoundly all 7'ound. Palsam {calls off). You, madam, stay there till you're wanted. We shall require you, Mr. Portal. ACT II THE CRUSADERS 6i My lord, you said this was no business of yours — listen to this ! Portal comes in at archway rather bashfully ; Pal- SAM follows a step or two on his right, very severe and consequential. Palsam {inotions Queen to step forward). Now! The whole truth, and nothing but the truth ! Queen {coming forwaj-d, curtseying). Oh, if you please, sir, and kind ladies and gentlemen all, it's no denying there have been dreadful carryings on, and sich conduct as it's made my heart bleed for to see. But it isn't me ! It's all that Glory Deejohn ! Palsam. Take care, hussy ! I have the plainest evidence against you ! Queen. Have you, sir? Palsam {taking out pencil and pocketbook) . And I shall take down every word you say. Queen {snivel — snivel — and then a sudden out- burst of tears) . Oh, if you please, ladies and gentle- men, there never was a poor girl so worrited and buffeted with temptation as I've been ; and if I have give way at times, there have been other times when I've been quite a pattern ! Palsa^l a pattern ! Queen. Yes, sir. Ask any of the girls else. I've talked to 'em about the wickedness of their ways, till I've drawed streaming tears down their cheeks. And 62 THE CRUSADERS act ii the bewtiful language I've used ! I'm sure the dear • good gentleman himself {glancing at Portal, ogling him) couldn't have used more bewtiful language than I did ! (Portal moves a little, coughs, blushes, and looks nervous.) Oh, sir {to Portal, with a renewed burst of tears), you would have been joyful if you could have heard me ! {Further embarrassment on the part of VoKYKL.) And several other dear, kind gentle- men have been quite struck with the pretty innocence of my ways. And now to stand here and be scorned and inspected by everybody ! {Again bursts ifito tears.) (Figg has beefi listening attentively to the foregoing proceedings. Jawle has been peifectly absorbed, his large bland face lifted upwards, quite regardless of what has take7i place ^ The Lady Gloire de Dijon efiters at left archway. Queen {recovering f-om her sobs). It can't be me, because my conscience always accuses me when I've done wrong, and my conscience don't accuse me a bit. It's a case of mistaken idemnity — it's that Glory Deejohn that's at the bottom of it. Oh, she is a real downright bad lot, that Glory Deejohn is ! If I was to tell you all — Palsam {encouragingly) . Go on ! go on ! {The Lady Gloire de Dijon runs doivn to the side of Palsam.) Lady Gloire {bursting in) , Ask her to tell you all ACT II THE CRUSADERS 63 about 'erself ! Why, on'y last Sunday evening as ever was — Queen {very quickly). Oh ! oh ! oh ! Glory Dee- john, how can you stand there and tell such wicked falsehoods, and not be afraid as something'U happen to you ! Oh ! {appealing to Portal) . On'y fancy, good gentleman, on Sunday evening, after hstening to them lovely words as flowed from your lips — (Portal again shows embarrassment.) Oh ! I blush for you, Glory Deejohn ! — I blush for you ! Lady Gloire. Blush for yourself! {rushing at Queen.) Palsam {authoritatively) . Silence ! (Lady Gloire and Queen both make motions as if about to speak.) Palsam. Silence ! We all wish to learn (Lord Burnham takes out his watch) about last Sunday evening. Lord Burnham {stepping forward). Excuse me, I don't. I've only ten minutes to catch my train back to town. (Lady Gloire comes down to front of seat, and an angry dispute in dumb show takes place between her and the Queen.) Palsam. But, my lord, it's most important ! Lord Burnham. Thank you ; I think I can dis- pense with knowing what happened on Sunday even- ing. (Palsam, rather snubbed, goes to Queen and Lady Gloire, who are quarrelling.^ 64 THE CRUSADERS act ii Lord Burnham {fakes an envelope out of pocket). Mrs. Greenslade. (Cynthia comes to him.) I've scribbled a few lines to Mr. Ingarfield. Will you see that he has them to-night ? Cynthia {taking letter, putting it in pocket). Yes, if possible. Lord Burnham. Thank you. Lady Gloire {loudly). Ask Miss Pattison else ! Queen. Well, ask Miss Pattison ! Lord Burnham. Dick, you'll come to the station with me ? Dick. Certainly, sir. Lord Burnham {goes to Portal). Good evening, Mr. Portal. You have my sincere sympathy in your efforts to preserve the respectability of Wimbledon. Portal. What would you recommend should be done with these young — a — persons ? Lord Burnham {glancing at the group of Palsam, Queen, and Lady Gloire). I should leave them entirely in Mr. Palsam's hands. Palsam. Silence ! I will subject Miss Pattison to a strict cross-examination. {Takes out watch.) I shall have time to question her before the rose-song is sung. Go back to the dormitories — at once ! {They pass in front of him, Lady Gloire first. Queen turns round and curtseys elaborately.) Queen {ogling Portal) . The dear good gentleman will stipify to my innocence ! ACT II THE CRUSADERS 65 Portal {I'ery embarrassed). Really — I wasn't there ! {Exeunt Queen a?id Lady Gloire. Palsam follows fhe7n.) Palsam {pushes them off) . Go away, you hussies ! {They exeunt quarrelling.) Lord Burnham {turns to Cynthia). Are those our model girls ? Cynthia. Yes. Lord Burnham. I trust we haven't reformed the others. Come, Dick. {Exit. Cynthia has offered hand to Dick.) Dick. I'll say " Good night " on my way back from the station {dropping his voice to a low aside to her), if it must be said. {Looks at her meaningly. She Just glances at him and comes down to seat.) {Exit Dick.) {Pause. Lights in zvindow left. Portal goes towards Cynthia. Figg and Jawle have been watching. Jawle suddenly emits his gurgling, melancholy chuckle.) Cynthla. {rather sharply). What's the matter, Mr. Jawle ? Jawle {elated in his melancholy way). I cannot refrain from a smile when human nature illustrates my theories. Portal {rather embarrassed, to Cynthia). I'm sure you will see that a residential neighbourhood Hke Wimbledon is scarcely the place for rose-farmers. Cynthia. But where can I take them ? F 66 THE CRUSADERS act ii Portal. I should say there are remote country- parishes where they would be quite — quite a wel- come addition to the population. I'll call for your decision next Wednesday, before the meeting. In the meantime, good evening ! {Exit at back.) (Jawle emits another melancholy chuckle.) FiGG {coming to Qx^tylipC). Oh, by the way, I've persuaded Jawle to accept that other two hundred pounds to pubhsh the last volume of his philosophy — I was careful not to hurt his feelings. Cynthia. I'm glad of that ! (Ja\\t.e chuckles again.) Cynthia {shozus aiinoyance). You seem pleased that the rose-farm is discredited. Ja\vle {solemnly). My dear lady, if people will act in direct contravention of those great principles laid down in my philosophy, what can they expect but discomfiture and failure ? Worrell enters door at back with Figg's ajtd Jawle's hats and overcoats ; comes dowti and puts them on during following sce?ie. Cynthia. But what can be done with these poor girls ? Jawle {rises and majestically waddles towards hei'). Nothing can be done ! Charity is merely a form of refined selfishness. You see distress ; you are pained ; to relieve your pain you scatter benefits broadcast, ACT II THE CRUSADERS 67 which corrupt both the giver and the receiver. {Looks roufid, fdgets.) This night air is noxious, and my vital processes are so slow ! {A little shiver; beckons Worrell.) (Worrell hats and coats Jawle.) FiGG {to Cynthia). You must let me bring my new poet to you. I call him my poet, because I dis- covered him. Cynthl\. Oh, did you ? FiGG. Yes ; quite by accident, in a little street off the Harrow Road. He's a superb genius ! His name's Radbone. Cynthia. Radbone ? FiGG. Yes; he's the sternest pessimist — sterner even than Jawle. Nobody has seized the inner core of the Harrow Road and Paddington like Rad- bone. Cynthia. Oh ! I don't know him. FiGG. No ; the herd — I do not use the word in an offensive sense — the herd do not know Radbone. But they shall. I am organising a Radbone Society. You'll expect us here to breakfast? (-£'::t:// Worrell, having finished with Jawle.) Cynthia. Oh, yes, yes ! Jawle. To breakfast ? Cynthia. Yes. Jawle (inysteriously, as if pondering) . Um — {a long grunt) . To breakfast ? Cynthia. You'll come, of course ! 68 THE CRUSADERS act ii ]a.wl'e {niysteriously). Possibly, possibly ! {Wad- dles off slowly right, jealously looking at Figg.) Rad- bone ! (FiGG^^'^ i,; ;,• .A 'TTsieV*^'-** f>" '.V. .^>.v ^,^ .. ^r '':^ ^^^ "* !^f^iil^f^''V;g:.:;i'i'' - l^;^^r^i<'V --v' <4df --■■'v-'^ "f:Ai:^-#:J:v: ^•^.:'f^ "^li^'S'/^- )::m:^''-^^-^:.,:- ' i\^i^"v::-.:r?!^^^.:^ ^ W'Vli . Ur Hi Kf^?x;-i IS #9 '^■''Mi: wi ■■■M^ • .''^:>'i^ , ''IK'.; M^