The crusaders

Jones, Henry Arthur, 1851-1929

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THE CRUSADERS

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UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SANTA BARBARA COLLEGE

LIBRARY

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 pictures. 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 preferences, 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 description 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. Jiidali and The Dajicing 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 tlie 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.

Dumas's Mo7isieiir Alpho?ise, Denise,- and Francillon are dramas of character; Le Demi-Monde is a social satire. To the former class

belong Augier's DAventuriere and Les Fourchainbault; to the latter, Les Effrontes and Le Fils de Giboyer. Frou-frou is the portrait of a woman; Le Monde oii I'on s''ennuie is the picture of a coterie.

PREFACE vii

Frou-frou without Gilberte would be a contradiction in terms; whereas in Le Monde on 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 affectation, 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 sen-es as a rallying-point for all that is noblest and basest, wisest and foolishest, in the world of to-day.

Self-less enthusiasm 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 tnith 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 Crusaders — this is a matter of fact rather than of opinion — is contemplative, not militant. Mr. Jones writes as a judicious observer, not as a partisan. "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 nobody 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 resentinent 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 subserve her social ambition, and place her on the visitinglist 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 narrowminded (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 pessimism to meliorism, of the quietist to the radical; while his satellite, Figg, typifies the craze for co-operative heroworship 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 •• crusaders ■' and camp-followers. Whether Mr. Jones has made more than a superficial study of his types is a question for the jury ; also whether he has been quite successful 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 oil Von s^entiuie, 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 concerned, 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'ennnie. For aught we know, the incidents might have happened; their probability may be

X PREFACE

open to question, but they do not conflict with common knowledge.

The Criisade?-s, on the other hand, is as patently fantastic as Piccadilly or T/ie Battle of Dorking. It sets forth events which purport to be, but are not, matters of history. They may be more or less possible and probable, but their " factual" 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 Judah, we lend, or try to lend, to the occurrences presented a sort of provisional credence. In the case of The Crusaders 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 seamstresses. 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-dowells" to Costa Rica. We know that no revolution in Costa Rica ever led to a change of government in England and an additional twopence on the income-tax. If, in short, we 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 conceived as somewhat nearer tJian 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 "fairytales 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 degradation ; 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 because 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 competence.

"But hold!" cries the reader. "In the verv fact of xii PREFACE

writing tliis 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 honoured 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 MONDAY, NOVEMBER THE

SECOND, 1891.

Avenue Theatre. Mr. Henry Arthur Jones begs to announce that his new comedy of modern London life, in three acts, called The Crusaders, will be played to-night, November 2nd, 1891, 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." — Emekson's Essays.

Lord Burnham, the Foreign Secretary .....

The Hon. Dick Rusper, his son .

Philos Ingarfield

Mr. Palsam, Vice-President of the London Reformation League .

Mr. BURGE Jawle, the Great Pessimist 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. Secretary of the London Reformation League .... Lady Monckton.

The Queen of the Marshal Niels . Miss Lillie Belmore.

The Lady Gloire de Dijon . . Miss Ettie Williams.

ViCTORINE Miss T£rESE ^L\YER.

Una Dell Miss Olga Brandon.

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.

THE FIRST ACT.

Young Don Quixote comes erom 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.

(^One 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,

£1 lis. 6d. to £^ 4^. Orchestra Stalls, lOi-. 6d. Balcony Stalls, 7^.

Dress Circle (bonnets allowed in last row), 51. Upper Circle (first row booked), 3^. 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 communications are to be addressed to Mr. G. D. Day, the business manager at the theatre.

ACT I

Scene — Mrs. Greenslade's Drawing-room in Mayfair, a very richly and tastefully furnished apartment. At back a handsome 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 curtain has risen a few moments, C\'NTHIa's face, in widow's head-dress, is seen at back, peeping through the curtains on left side. She listens intently for a feta moments, thcfi withdratus; the ctirtains close, and a tnoment later she appears at botto7n of stairs, still listening. She is i)i widow's mourning; about ttocnty-five years of age, with fascinating, coquettish manners. After listening a moment towards door right very intently, she smiles, then rufis quickly to sofa, curls herself upon it, listens again, and, as Worrell enters, feigns to be asleep.

^ B I

2 THE CRUSADERS act i

Enter, door right, Worreli,, a very 7'e spec table manservant, bald, stout, about forty-five.

WoRRF.LL announces Mr. Rusper.

Enter the Honourable Dick Rusper, about thirty ; an easy, affable, good-looking English gentleman.

{Exit Worrell right.)

Dick comes down, sees Cynthia, stops suddenly, contemplates her 7vith great admiration.

Dick. Fast asleep ! How interesting ! How innocent! {Pause, full of adtniration.) Devilish pretty woman ! {Steals noiselessly across to back of sofa, bends over her.)

(Cynthia opens her eyes, affects not to see him, yaiuns, stretches her arms, then suddenlv looks at him, pretetuls to start, sits quickly bolt upright on sofa, stares at him as if fust wakc7ied from 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 !

(Clappitig her hands 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 ?

C\TsrTHL\. The London Reformation League. (Sme//s the roses delicately and luxuriously.^) Aren't these roses exquisite ? ( Gathers a rose,plays n'ith it.)

Dick {comes up to table, speaks in a lo7u, soft, ivinning voice). I wish you'd let me be on your committee.

Cynthia {shakes her head). Mr. Palsam objects.

Dick. Why?

Cynthia. Because you're married.

Dick. So are most of the other members.

Cynthia. Yes, but they — {longish pause, drops her voice) they continue married.

Dick. So do I — at a distance. My wife and I found out that when we were together we were miserable, 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.

Cynthia {getting aivay from hi?n). 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.

Cv'nthu {reproachfully). You don't believe in our great scheme !

4 THE CRUSADERS act i

Dick {comes up to her, in a very insinuating whisper) . Yes I do, if it brings me near you !

Cynthla. {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 life 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 Ingarfield as great a bore as that old Cochin China, and you'll wring his neck and stop his crowing for ever !

Cynthia {indigfiantly). How can you speak so? How little you know me !

Dick. How little 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 harmless, only very eccentric. And he was a great public benefactor.

Dick. He made a splendid fortune out of his nonintoxicant beverages.

Cynthia. It was the building-land that made his fortune, {/^ises indignantly.^ I hate you !

Dick. Why?

Cynthia. You don't believe in anything !

Dick. I don't believe in temperance champagne. But I'll believe in reforming London if {approaching 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 him up stage). Help Mr. Ingarfield.

{She throws the rose coquettishly down stage. He looks at her a moment, then goes and picks it up, kisses it, puts it in his huttonhole.)

Worrell enters right, announces ]\Irs. Campion-Blake.

Enter, door right, Mrs. Campion-Blake, a fussy, energetic, talkative society woman, rather showily dressed. She comes do7vn stage centre. Exit Worrell.

Cynthu advances to shake hands with Mrs. CampionBlake.

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 hatids.)

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 background.

C\'Nthia {dubiously). But our programme ! {Quoting.) " 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? {Cojnes 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 gj-eat satisfactio71). There's a dear fellow. It's a million pities we can't get the Marquis of Bicester !

Cynthia. Can't we ? {Playing with her rose listlessly.) ACT I THE CRUSADERS 7

Mrs. Cam. My dear, can you ask, after Mr. Ingarfield's attacks upon the great ground landlords of London ? Mr, Ingarfield is so impracticable ! So injudicious!

^«/^r Worrell, right door. He annoioices Mr. Palsam, and exit.

Enter right, Mr. Palsam, a thin, pale, weedy, 7iervoiis, 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 hatids, and a painfully earnest manner. Dick nods coolly to Palsam as he passes. Mrs. Caivipion-Blake bows slightly. Palsam comes to Cynthl\, shakes hands.

Palsam {he always speaks in the same painfully earnest manner). I must speak to you ! It's most important!

(Cynthla atul Palsam move down stage. Mrs. Campion-Blake goes to Dick and talks with him.) Palsam. Your new French maid. Cynthla.

Victorine ?

Palsam. Where was she last Sunday afternoon ? C\'nthla. She went out. Palsam. Where ? Cynthla. 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

!

Cynthu. 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?

Cynthl\. Guilty of what ?

Palsai\l Well, she's French. I'm sorry to say it, but such a thing as real, genuine morahty, as we know it in England, doesn't exist in the whole of the French nation. Besides, we can't be too particular —

Cynthia. Really, Mr. Palsam — {going away from him).

Palsam. Well, I thought it my duty to caution you. {FolLnui)ig her lip.) 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 lip 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. {ratiliiig 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 Reformation 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 listen 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. {Seatifig himself 7-esolutely.) Mrs. Cam. And %ve 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 7vith it above her nose). I wish we could reform London without quarrelling like cats and dogs every time we meet. (Going slo7uly to table, burying her face in the rose-tree.)

Mrs. Cam. {resignedly). Of course the decision rests entirely with you.

Enter Worrell, who announces Lord Burnham.

Enter Lord Burnham, a very distifiguished-looking man about sixty; affable, shrewd, well-bred, a gefiial cynic. {Exit Worrell.)

Lord Burnham comes down to Cynthl-v, bows to Mrs. CampionBlake.

Cynthia. How d'ye do? {Shaking hands.) 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, turns half

round in his chair with a despairitig

gesture, crosses his legs, bites his thumb.

Mrs. Campion-Blake shoius triumph.)

Cynthia {noticing Palsam). Mr. Palsam {very engagingly), Fm sure you'll consider it an honour to ACT I THE CRUSADERS II

aid Lord Burnham in our great work. (Palsam comes forwafd.

Cynthia introduces.^ Mr. Palsam, our vice-president ! Lord Burnham, our president/ {emphatically. The two men l>ow.) Palsam. Of course, if Lord Burnham has considered 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, muttering). 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 vicepresident! {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 undertake 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 atmosphere is bracing, and

{glancing at Cynthia and Mrs. Campion-IjLake) enchanting. And if I consulted only my own narrow, selfish wish to improve my own character, I'm sure I couldn't do it under better auspices. But I've always considered it a peculiarly 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 {imploringly). Oh, but you could help us so much ! Your name alone would be so valuable !

ACT I THE CRUSADERS 13

Lord Burxham. Well, if my name will improve society —

Mrs. Cam. Oh, it will ! it will! An old title carries so much weight! (

Very coaxingly.) You wi/l 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 rosefarm near Wimbledon Common, Look !

{poin/ing to the rose-tree). This is the result.

Lord Burnham {smells roses). Delicious !

C\'NTHiA {enthusiastically). One can't have too many roses ! And it's such a lovely industry !

Lord Burnham. Did they grow these ?

C\T>rrHiA. 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 Burnha:\i. ]\ray I ask what is the precise sum we have available for the reformation of London ?

Cynthu. 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 Claphani 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.

Palsam. 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 delightful place, eh, Dick?

Dick. JoUiest 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?

Cynthu. Mr. Ingarfield's and mine. Mr. Greenslade bought the forty acres for building, but there were two such pretty old-fashioned cottages —

Mrs. Cam. {gushi/igly). Perfect dreams of cottages !

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!

Enter Worrell, door right, comes down stage a little.

l6 THE CRUSADERS ACT I

Worrell. The workingmen members have arrived, ma'am.

Cynthl-v. Show them upstairs —

Mrs. Cam. The other way —

Cynthia. And have some lunch prepared for Mr. Ingarfield in the next room.

(Worrell ^6'^i' back to door right.)

Lord Burnham. We have workingmen on our committee ?

Mrs. Cam. Only three. It pleases the workingclasses, and iybenevolently) 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 mejition of Ingarfield's name). Show them in here. No {rises), I'll speak to them first in the library..

(Palsam watches Cynthia very suspiciously.)

{Exit Worrell. Cynthia follows him.)

Palsam {has been watching her sourly and suspiciously). {Aside.) She's gone to settle something important behind my back. ( Going up to door right.) {Aside.) They're always settling things without consulting me ! {Goes off, jnutiering.)

Lord Burnham, Dick, and Mrs. Campion-Blake have watched him off.

(Lord Burnham 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 fejv steps till he is on a level with Dick. The tzvo men look at each other. Dick laughs at his father. Lord Burnham 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 beeji liste?iing). 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 staircase, looks up at it attentively, listeiiing.)

Lord Burnham {confidentially, in a tone of kind reproof). No damned nonsense with this Mrs. Greenslade !

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 public 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 foundation.

Mrs. Cam. {coming down stage). As usual ! Our workingmen members are quarrelling amongst themselves.

c

i8 THE CRUSADERS act i

Lord Burnhaini. Apparently we are a hybrid committee. What's this Ingarfield Hke?

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 Peckham 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 drawingroom gymnastics after dinner. It isn't the least indelicate — 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 —

D001' right opens.

Dick {warningly). Hush !

Enter door right Cynthia and Philos Ingarfield ; he is about thirty, long light curly hair parted in the middle, worn eager face, high narrow forehead; lean, nervous, dreamy, absorbed. They come down stage towards table, Cynthla. a step or two in advance of Ingarfield.

Una Dell, a sensitive, shy, enthusiastic girl, about twenty, comes to door right, entejs a step or tivo and sta?ids 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!

Cynthl\. Lord Burnham, may I present Mr. Philos Ingarfield ?

(Ingarfield and Lord Burnham bo7ci.) (Mrs. Campion-Blake engages Philos, talhs to him.)

20 THE CRUSADERS act i

Cynthia. And {looking round for Una, who stands against door).

Where's — Oh, there you are ! Come here ! (Una comes down.) Worrell enters right, conies down to Cynthu..

Cynthla. {continuing, as Una comes do7vn). 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 Burnham {boius to Una, motions her to a seat on sofa). I hope we shall find some subject.

Cynthl^ {laughing). Try social science. ( Goes a step or two back, ruhere she is joined by Worrell, who whispers her.) Mrs. Cam. {to Philos) . Sit down ! You are really killing 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 {I'ery eat-nestly). Does he love his fellowmen?

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 (/V; Worrell). Yes; in that room {indic a ting door left). {Exit Worrell door left.)

(C\\NTHIa Joins Philos and Mrs. Campion-Blake.) ACT I THE CRUSADERS 21

Dick {has beeji tvaiching Mrs. Campion-Bl.\ke///j-5-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 Cynthu 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 (Jooks 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.

C\'Nthia. Why do you live like a hermit?

Philos. I can't feast while my brothers and sisters are star\^ing.

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 Burnham is president, we shall soon put matters right for them ! You'll put Mr. Ingarfield's scheme into operation at once, Lord Burnham.

Lord Burnham. Certainly. Perhaps Mr. Ligarfield 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 Parliament since I was twenty-two.

Philos. I want to put an ideal London before every Londoner. I want all good citizens to stand in line 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 without working for him, to the thief, to the idle, to the drunkard, to the jerry house-builder, — I want Londoners 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 loiv aside). " ^Ve'll see you damned first!"

Enter Worrell door left.

Philos {continuing excited/y). 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 thereabouts. Mr. Ingarfield only preaches what everybody believes, 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 absurd to cheat and lie to one another

!

Lord Burnham {shakes his head). My dear young lady, believe me, lying is far too venerable and iise/id an accomplishment for humanity to see its absurd aspect — in our day at least.

Worrell enters at door right with tivo tehgratns; brings tlicni to Philos.

^ai&am follows him, watching him closely.

Philos {taking telegrams from Worrell). Excuse me. {Opens them.') Worrell goes to door right, ivatched by Palsam. Exit.

Palsam {watcliing Worrell off very suspiciously). It can't be right to bring that French maid into this house ! {Stands moody, distressed.) Philos {haviJig read telegram). My poor ne'erdo-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 Burnham 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 character 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. Ingarfield ! You must go to Costa Rica yourself!

(Una shows interest and slight alarm.')

Philos. Myself!

Cynthlv. 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 like ne'er-dowells. (Dick hands telegrams to Mrs. Campion-Blake and Cynthl\, who read them eagerly.) All Mr. In

26 THE CRUSADERS act i

garfield has to do is to run over to Costa Rica, establish his colony, and leave his scheme in our hands —

Palsam {(iiithorifativtiy). I believe I am the vicepresident 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 {ivaniitigly). I'm not sure, Dick —

Dick. We can guarantee Mr. Ligarfield as a suitable person to look after ne'er-do-wells. It's a mere formality.

Lord Burnham {rises). May I see the telegrams? {Joins Cynthia and Mrs. Campion-Blake. They hand telegrams to him.) Dick {eontini/es, glo7aingly). And it's a lovely country ! Don't I wish I had the chance of going !

Philos {absorbed). 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, absorbed, deliberating.)

Dick {plying him). The country's a perfect paradise for all classes of people who can't get on here. Why can't they get on here? Because, from constitutional 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 Lafitte —

Palsam {ijei-y ivaspishly). I object to the Greenslade bequest being squandered in the pernicious industry of intoxication —

Dick {comes to him good-hiimouredly, ^valks him 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 Vxuixu 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 {suddenly). I'll go with them! It's my duty, and I'll go !

Dick {aside, joyfully). Landed him !

Cynthia and Mrs. Ca.mpion-Blake, very viuch concer?ied, 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 (e/egranis.) 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 Northumberland, 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'HK pauses, looks af him, then exit /eft.) (Philos is going after her.)

Cynthia {stopping him). Surely you won't risk your life. The ship is dangerous —

Philos {shakes his head, smites, luith calm assurance'). 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 watching.) Worrell enters door right., announces Mr. Figg, Mr. BuRGE Jawle.

Figg, a dapper, polite, insinuating, finicky, facile, plausible, bald man of forty, enters right, followed by Burge Jawle, a fat, jaundiced, heaiy, torpid, olive-complcxioned man of fifty; he waddles slowly down stage after Figg. Cynthia closes door left, comes to centre of stage, meets Figg. ^avV Worrell right.

Figg. How d'ye do? {Shaking hands with Cynthia.) You asked me to bring our great social philosopher, Mr. Burge Jawle.

(Jawle waddles down slowly in an unconcerned, torpid way.) Figg {introducing). Mrs. Greenslade.

Cynthia. How d'ye do? {Offering hand.)

Jawle {^uaddles up, puts his heavy fat paw in Cynthia's hand, speaks in a heavy drawl without any animatioii 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, {folding Cynthia's hand—a slight pause.)

Cynthia {a little embarrassed). Fm sorry —

30 THE CRUSADERS act i

Jawle. Standing fatigues me. I think I'll sit down.

{Looks round.) (Lord Burnham rises, offers his chair.) Jawle {looks at it, looks all round, spies a very comfortable armcliair doivn in corner). No — that chair seems to be especially adapted to my requirements. ( Waddles very slowly dotvn, seats himself 7uith great precision, leans back, places his hands on his stomach, sits placidly absorbed, utterly oblivious of what is going on.) PALS.4.M ( To FiGG — Cynthia listening). You were saying that Mr.

Jawle's social philosophy will assist us in reforming London.

FiGG {confidently). You can't reform London without 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.