by Oscar Wilde
LADY CHILTERN: There is no disgrace in store for you, nor any public shame. Mrs. Cheveley has handed over to Lord Goring the document that was in her possession, and he has destroyed it.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: Are you sure of this, Gertrude?
LADY CHILTERN: Yes; Lord Goring has just told me.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: Then I am safe! Oh! What a wonderful thing to be safe! For two days I have been in terror. I am safe now. How did Arthur destroy my letter? Tell me.
LADY CHILTERN: He burned it.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: I wish I had seen that one sin of my youth burning to ashes. How many men there are in modern life who would like to see their past burning to white ashes before them! Is Arthur still here?
LADY CHILTERN: Yes; he is in the conservatory.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: I am so glad now I made that speech last night in the House, so glad. I made it thinking that public disgrace might be the result. But it has not been so.
LADY CHILTERN: Public honour has been the result.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: I think so. I fear so, almost. For although I am safe from detection, although every proof against me is destroyed, I suppose, Gertrude…I suppose I should retire from public life? (He looks anxiously at his wife.)
LADY CHILTERN (eagerly): Oh yes, Robert, you should do that. It is your duty to do that.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: It is much to surrender.
LADY CHILTERN: No; it will be much to gain.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN walks up and down the room with a troubled expression. Then comes over to his wife, and puts his hand on her shoulder.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: And you would be happy living somewhere alone with me, abroad perhaps, or in the country away from London, away from public life? You would have no regrets?
LADY CHILTERN: Oh! None, Robert.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN (sadly): And your ambition for me? You used to be ambitious for me.
LADY CHILTERN: Oh, my ambition! I have none now, but that we two may love each other. It was your ambition that led you astray. Let us not talk about ambition.
LORD GORING returns from the conservatory, looking very pleased with himself, and with an entirely new buttonhole that some one has made for him.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN (going towards him): Arthur, I have to thank you for what you have done for me. I don’t know how I can repay you. (Shakes hands with him.)
LORD GORING: My dear fellow, I’ll tell you at once. At the present moment, under the usual palm tree…I mean in the conservatory…
Enter MASON.
MASON: Lord Caversham.
LORD GORING: That admirable father of mine really makes a habit of turning up at the wrong moment. It is very heartless of him, very heartless indeed.
Enter LORD CAVERSHAM. MASON goes out.
LORD CAVERSHAM: Good-morning, Lady Chiltern! Warmest congratulations to you, Chiltern, on your brilliant speech last night. I have just left the Prime Minister, and you are to have the vacant seat in the Cabinet.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN (with a look of joy and triumph): A seat in the Cabinet?
LORD CAVERSHAM: Yes; here is the Prime Minister’s letter. (Hands letter.)
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN (takes letter and reads it): A seat in the Cabinet!
LORD CAVERSHAM: Certainly, and you well deserve it too. You have got what we want so much in political life nowadays – high character, high moral tone, high principles. (To LORD GORING): Everything that you have not got, sir, and never will have.
LORD GORING: I don’t like principles, father. I prefer prejudices.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN is on the brink of accepting the Prime Minister’s offer, when he sees his wife looking at him with her clear candid eyes. He then realises that it is impossible.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: I cannot accept this offer, Lord Caversham. I have made up my mind to decline it.
LORD CAVERSHAM: Decline it, sir?
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: My intention is to retire at once from public life.
LORD CAVERSHAM (angrily): Decline a seat in the Cabinet, and retire from public life? Never heard such damned nonsense in the whole course of my existence. I beg your pardon, Lady Chiltern. Chiltern, I beg your pardon. (To LORD GORING.): Don’t grin like that, sir.
LORD GORING: No, father.
LORD CAVERSHAM: Lady Chiltern, you are a sensible woman, the most sensible woman in London, the most sensible woman I know. Will you kindly prevent your husband from making such a…from talking such…Will you kindly do that, Lady Chiltern?
LADY CHILTERN: I think my husband is right in his determination, Lord Caversham. I approve of it.
LORD CAVERSHAM: You approve of it? Good heavens!
LADY CHILTERN (taking her husband’s hand): I admire him for it. I admire him immensely for it. I have never admired him so much before. He is finer than even I thought him. (To SIR ROBERT CHILTERN): You will go and write your letter to the Prime Minister now, won’t you? Don’t hesitate about it, Robert.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN (with a touch of bitterness): I suppose I had better write it at once. Such offers are not repeated. I will ask you to excuse me for a moment, Lord Caversham.
LADY CHILTERN: I may come with you, Robert, may I not?
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: Yes, Gertrude.
LADY CHILTERN goes with him.
LORD CAVERSHAM: What is the matter with this family? Something wrong here, eh? (Tapping his forehead.) Idiocy? Hereditary, I suppose. Both of them, too. Wife as well as husband. Very sad. Very sad indeed! And they are not an old family. Can’t understand it.
LORD GORING: It is not idiocy, father, I assure you.
LORD CAVERSHAM: What is it then, sir?
LORD GORING (after some hesitation): Well, it is what is called nowadays a high moral tone, father. That is all.
LORD CAVERSHAM: Hate these new-fangled names. Same thing as we used to call idiocy fifty years ago. Shan’t stay in this house any longer.
LORD GORING (taking his arm): Oh! Just go in there for a moment, father. Third palm tree to the left, the usual palm tree.
LORD CAVERSHAM: What, sir?
LORD GORING: I beg your pardon, father, I forgot. The conservatory, father, the conservatory – there is some one there I want you to talk to.
LORD CAVERSHAM: What about, sir?
LORD GORING: About me, father.
LORD CAVERSHAM (grimly): Not a subject on which much eloquence is possible.
LORD GORING: No, father; but the lady is like me. She doesn’t care much for eloquence in others. She thinks it a little loud.
LORD CAVERSHAM goes into the conservatory. LADY CHILTERN enters.
LORD GORING: Lady Chiltern, why are you playing Mrs. Cheveley’s cards?
LADY CHILTERN (startled): I don’t understand you.
LORD GORING: Mrs. Cheveley made an attempt to ruin your husband. Either to drive him from public life, or to make him adopt a dishonourable position. From the latter tragedy you saved him. The former you are now thrusting on him. Why should you do him the wrong Mrs. Cheveley tried to do and failed?
LADY CHILTERN: Lord Goring?
LORD GORING (pulling himself together for a great effort, and showing the philosopher that underlies the dandy): Lady Chiltern, allow me. You wrote me a letter last night in which you said you trusted me and wanted my help. Now is the moment when you really want my help, now is the time when you have got to trust me, to trust in my counsel and judgment. You love Robert. Do you want to kill his love for you? What sort of existence will he have if you rob him of the fruits of his ambition, if you take him from the splendour of a great political career, if you close the doors of public life against him, if you condemn him to sterile failure, he who was made for triumph and success? Women are not meant to judge us, but to forgive us when we need forgiveness. Pardon, not punishment, is their mission. Why should you scourge him with rods for a sin done in his youth, before he knew you, before he knew himself? A man’s life is of more value than a woman’s. It has larger issues, wider scope, greater ambitions. A wo
man’s life revolves in curves of emotions. It is upon lines of intellect that a man’s life progresses. Don’t make any terrible mistake, Lady Chiltern. A woman who can keep a man’s love, and love him in return, has done all the world wants of women, or should want of them.
LADY CHILTERN (troubled and hesitating): But it is my husband himself who wishes to retire from public life. He feels it is his duty. It was he who first said so.
LORD GORING: Rather than lose your love, Robert would do anything, wreck his whole career, as he is on the brink of doing now. He is making for you a terrible sacrifice. Take my advice, Lady Chiltern, and do not accept a sacrifice so great. If you do, you will live to repent it bitterly. We men and women are not made to accept such sacrifices from each other. We are not worthy of them. Besides, Robert has been punished enough.
LADY CHILTERN: We have both been punished. I set him up too high.
LORD GORING (with deep feeling in his voice): Do not for that reason set him down now too low. If he has fallen from his altar, do not thrust him into the mire. Failure to Robert would be the very mire of shame. Power is his passion. He would lose everything, even his power to feel love. Your husband’s life is at this moment in your hands, your husband’s love is in your hands. Don’t mar both for him.
Enter SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: Gertrude, here is the draft of my letter. Shall I read it to you?
LADY CHILTERN: Let me see it.
SIR ROBERT hands her the letter. She reads it, and then, with a gesture of passion, tears it up.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: What are you doing?
LADY CHILTERN: A man’s life is of more value than a woman’s. It has larger issues, wider scope, greater ambitions. Our lives revolve in curves of emotions. It is upon lines of intellect that a man’s life progresses. I have just learnt this, and much else with it, from Lord Goring. And I will not spoil your life for you, nor see you spoil it as a sacrifice to me, a useless sacrifice!
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: Gertrude! Gertrude!
LADY CHILTERN: You can forget. Men easily forget. And I forgive. That is how women help the world. I see that now.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN (deeply overcome by emotion, embraces her): My wife! My wife! (To LORD GORING): Arthur, it seems that I am always to be in your debt.
LORD GORING: Oh dear no, Robert. Your debt is to Lady Chiltern, not to me!
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: I owe you much. And now tell me what you were going to ask me just now as Lord Caversham came in.
LORD GORING: Robert, you are your sister’s guardian, and I want your consent to my marriage with her. That is all.
LADY CHILTERN: Oh, I am so glad! I am so glad! (Shakes hands with LORD GORING.)
LORD GORING: Thank you, Lady Chiltern.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN (with a troubled look): My sister to be your wife?
LORD GORING: Yes.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN (speaking with great firmness): Arthur, I am very sorry, but the thing is quite out of the question. I have to think of Mabel’s future happiness. And I don’t think her happiness would be safe in your hands. And I cannot have her sacrificed!
LORD GORING: Sacrificed!
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: Yes, utterly sacrificed. Loveless marriages are horrible. But there is one thing worse than an absolutely loveless marriage. A marriage in which there is love, but on one side only; faith, but on one side only; devotion, but on one side only and in which of the two hearts one is sure to be broken.
LORD GORING: But 1 love Mabel. No other woman has any place in my life.
LADY CHILTERN: Robert, if they love each other, why should they not be married?
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: Arthur cannot bring Mabel the love that she deserves.
LORD GORING: What reason have you for saying that?
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN (after a pause): Do you really require me to tell you?
LORD GORING: Certainly I do.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: As you choose. When I called on you yesterday evening I found Mrs. Cheveley concealed in your rooms. It was between ten and eleven o’clock at night. I do not wish to say anything more. Your relations with Mrs. Cheveley have, as I said to you last night, nothing whatsoever to do with me. I know you were engaged to be married to her once. The fascination she exercised over you then seems to have returned. You spoke to me last night of her as a woman pure and stainless, a woman who you respected and honoured. That may be so. But I cannot give my sister’s life into your hands. It would be wrong of me. It would be unjust, infamously unjust to her.
LORD GORING: I have nothing more to say.
LADY CHILTERN: Robert, it was not Mrs. Cheveley whom Lord Goring expected last night.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: Not Mrs. Cheveley! Who was it then?
LORD GORING: Lady Chiltern.
LADY CHILTERN: It was your own wife. Robert, yesterday afternoon Lord Goring told me that if ever I was in trouble I could come to him for help, as he was our oldest and best friend. Later on, after that terrible scene in this room, I wrote to him telling him that I trusted him, that I had need of him, that I was coming to him for help and advice. (SIR ROBERT CHILTERN takes the letter out of his pocket.) Yes, that letter. I didn’t go to Lord Goring’s, after all. I felt that it is from ourselves alone that help can come. Pride made me think that. Mrs. Cheveley went. She stole my letter and sent it anonymously to you this morning, that you should think…Oh! Robert, I cannot tell you what she wished you to think…
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN: What! Had I fallen so low in your eyes that you thought that even for a moment I could have doubted your goodness? Gertrude, Gertrude, you are to me the white image of all good things, and sin can never touch you. Arthur, you can go to Mabel, and you have my best wishes! Oh! Stop a moment. There is no name at the beginning of this letter. The brilliant Mrs. Cheveley does not seem to have noticed that. There should be a name.
LADY CHILTERN: Let me write yours. It is you I trust and need. You and none else.
LORD GORING: Well, really, Lady Chiltern, I think I should have back my own letter.
LADY CHILTERN (smiling): No; you shall have Mabel. (Takes the letter and writes her husband’s name on it.)
LORD GORING: Well, I hope she hasn’t changed her mind. It’s nearly twenty minutes since I saw her last.
Enter MABEL CHILTERN and LORD CAVERSHAM.
MABEL CHILTERN: Lord Goring, I think your father’s conversation much more improving than yours. I am only going to talk to Lord Caversham in the future, and always under the usual palm tree.
LORD GORING: Darling! (Kisses her.)
LORD CAVERSHAM (considerably taken aback): What does this mean, sir? You don’t mean to say that this charming, clever young lady has been so foolish as to accept you?
LORD GORING: Certainly, father! And Chiltern’s been wise enough to accept the seat in the Cabinet.
LORD CAVERSHAM: I am very glad to hear that, Chiltern…I congratulate you, sir. If the country doesn’t go to the dogs or the Radicals, we shall have you Prime Minister, some day.
Enter MASON.
MASON: Luncheon is on the table, my Lady! (MASON goes out.)
MABEL CHILTERN: You’ll stop to luncheon, Lord Caversham, won’t you?
LORD CAVERSHAM: With pleasure, and I’ll drive you down to Downing Street afterwards, Chiltern. You have a great future before you, a great future. (To LORD GORING): Wish I could say the same for you, sir. But your career will have to be entirely domestic.
LORD GORING: Yes, father, I prefer it domestic.
LORD CAVERSHAM: And if you don’t make this young lady an ideal husband, I’ll cut you off with a shilling.
MABEL CHILTERN: An ideal husband! Oh, I don’t think I should like that. It sounds like something in the next world.
LORD CAVERSHAM: What do you want him to be then, dear?
MABEL CHILTERN: He can be what he chooses. All I want is to be…to be…oh! A real wife to him.
LORD CAVERSHAM: Upon my word, there is a good deal of common sense in that, Lady Chiltern
.
They all go out except SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. He sinks into a chair, wrapt in thought. After a little time LADY CHILTERN returns to look for him.
LADY CHILTERN (leaning over the back of the chair): Aren’t you coming in, Robert?
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN (taking her hand): Gertrude, is it love you feel for me, or is it pity merely?
LADY CHILTERN (kisses him): It is love, Robert. Love, and only love. For both of us a new life is beginning.
CURTAIN
SALOMÉ
A Tragedy in one Act. Translated from the French of Oscar Wilde by Lord Alfred Douglas
The persons of the play
HEROD ANTIPAS, Tetrarch of SECOND SOLDIER
Judaea THE PAGE OF HERODIAS
JOKANAAN, The Prophet JEWS, NAZARENES, ETC.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN, Captain of A SLAVE
the Guard NAAMAN, The Executioner
TIGELLINUS, A Young Roman HERODIAS, Wife of the Tetrarch
A CAPPADOCIAN SALOMÉ, Daughter of Herodias
A NUBIAN THE SLAVES OF SALOMÉ
FIRST SOLDIER
SCENE: A great terrace in the Palace of HEROD, set above the banqueting-hall. Some soldiers are leaning over the balcony. To the right there is a gigantic staircase, to the left, at the back, an old cistern surrounded by a wall of green bronze. Moonlight.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN: How beautiful is the Princess Salome to-night!
THE PAGE OF HERODIAS: Look at the moon! How strange the moon seems! She is like a woman rising from a tomb. She is like a dead woman. You would fancy she was looking for dead things.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN: She has a strange look. She is like a little princess who wears a yellow veil, and whose feet are of silver. She is like a princess who has little white doves for feet. You would fancy she was dancing.
THE PAGE OF HERODIAS: She is like a woman who is dead. She moves very slowly.
