by Oscar Wilde
LADY CHILTERN. I may come with you, Robert, may I not?
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes, Gertrude.
LADY CHILTERN goes out with him.
LORD CAVERSHAM. What is the matter with the 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 here for a moment, father. Second 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 someone there that 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 judgement. 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 woman’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 I 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 of a woman pure and stainless, a woman whom 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 a
dvice. (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 thoughts. 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
The Importance of
Being Earnest
To
Robert Baldwin Ross
in appreciation
and
affection
The Importance of Being Earnest was first performed at the St James Theatre, London on 14th February, 1895, with the following cast:
JOHN WORTHING, J.P.
Mr George Alexander
ALGERNON MONCRIEFF
Mr Allen Aynesworth
REV. CANON CHASUBLE, D. D.
Mr H. H. Vincent
MERRIMAN (Butler)
Mr Frank Dyall
LANE (Manservant)
Mr F. Kinsey Peile
LADY BRACKNELL
Miss Rose Leclercq
HON. GWENDOLEN FAIRFAX
Miss Irene Vanbrugh
CECILY CARDEW
Miss Evelyn Millard
MISS PRISM (Governess)
Mrs George Canninge
Lessee and Manager: Mr George Alexander
THE SCENES OF THE PLAY
ACT I
Algernon Moncrieff’s Flat in Half-Moon Street, W.
ACT II
The Garden at the Manor House, Woolton.
ACT III
Drawing-Room at the Manor House, Woolton.
TIME:
The Present
First Act
SCENE
Morning-room in Algernon’s flat in Half-Moon Street. The room is luxuriously and artistically furnished. The sound of a piano is heard in the adjoining room.
LANE is arranging afternoon tea on the table, and after the music has ceased, ALGERNON enters.
ALGERNON. Did you hear what I was playing, Lane?
LANE. I didn’t think it polite to listen, sir.
ALGERNON. I’m sorry for that, for your sake. I don’t play accurately – any one can play accurately – but I play with wonderful expression. As far as the piano is concerned, sentiment is my forte. I keep science for Life.
LANE. Yes, sir.
ALGERNON. And, speaking of the science of Life, have you got the cucumber sandwiches cut for Lady Bracknell?
LANE. Yes, sir. (Hands them on a salver.)
ALGERNON (inspects them, takes two, and sits down on the sofa). Oh! … by the way, Lane, I see from your book that on Thursday night, when Lord Shoreman and Mr Worthing were dining with me, eight bottles of champagne are entered as having been consumed.
LANE. Yes, sir; eight bottles and a pint.
ALGERNON. Why is it that at a bachelor’s establishment the servants invariably drink the champagne? I ask merely for information.
LANE. I attribute it to the superior quality of the wine, sir. I have often observed that in married households the champagne is rarely of a first-rate brand.
ALGERNON. Good heavens! Is marriage so demoralising as that?
LANE. I believe it is a very pleasant state, sir. I have had very little experience of it myself up to the present. I have only been married once. That was in consequence of a misunderstanding between myself and a young person.
ALGERNON (languidly). I don’t know that I am much interested in your family life, Lane.
LANE. No, sir; it is not a very interesting subject. I never think of it myself.
ALGERNON. Very natural, I am sure. That will do, Lane, thank you.
LANE. Thank you, sir.
LANE goes out.
ALGERNON. Lane’s views on marriage seem somewhat lax. Really, if the lower orders don’t set us a good example, what on earth is the use of them? They seem, as a class, to have absolutely no sense of moral responsibility.
Enter LANE.
LANE. Mr Ernest Worthing.
Enter JACK.
LANE goes out.
ALGERNON. How are you, my dear Ernest? What brings you up to town?
JACK. Oh, pleasure, pleasure! What else should bring one any where? Eating as usual, I see, Algy!
ALGERNON (stiffly). I believe it is customary in good society to take some slight refreshment at five o’clock. Where have you been since last Thursday?
JACK (sitting down on the sofa). In the country.
ALGERNON. What on earth do you do there?
JACK (pulling off his gloves). When one is in town one amuses oneself. When one is in the country one amuses other people. It is excessively boring.
ALGERNON. And who are the people you amuse?
JACK (airily). Oh, neighbours, neighbours.
ALGERNON. Got nice neighbours in your part of Shropshire?
JACK. Perfectly horrid! Never speak to one of them.
ALGERNON. How immensely yo
u must amuse them! (Goes over and takes sandwich.) By the way, Shropshire is your county, is it not?
JACK. Eh? Shropshire? Yes, of course. Hallo! Why all these cups? Why cucumber sandwiches? Why such reckless extravagance in one so young? Who is coming to tea?
ALGERNON. Oh! merely Aunt Augusta and Gwendolen.
JACK. How perfectly delightful!
ALGERNON. Yes, that is all very well; but I am afraid Aunt Augusta won’t quite approve of your being here.
JACK. May I ask why?
ALGERNON. My dear fellow, the way you flirt with Gwendolen is perfectly disgraceful. It is almost as bad as the way Gwendolen flirts with you.
JACK. I am in love with Gwendolen. I have come up to town expressly to propose to her.
ALGERNON. I thought you had come up for pleasure? … I call that business.
JACK. How utterly unromantic you are!
ALGERNON. I really don’t see anything romantic in proposing. It is very romantic to be in love. But there is nothing romantic about a definite proposal. Why, one may be accepted. One usually is, I believe. Then the excitement is all over. The very essence of romance is uncertainty. If ever I get married, I’ll certainly try to forget the fact.
JACK. I have no doubt about that, dear Algy. The Divorce Court was specially invented for people whose memories are so curiously constituted.
ALGERNON. Oh! there is no use speculating on that subject. Divorces are made in Heaven — (JACK puts out his hand to take a sandwich. ALGERNON at once interferes.) Please don’t touch the cucumber sandwiches. They are ordered specially for Aunt Augusta. (Takes one and eats it.)
JACK. Well, you have been eating them all the time.
ALGERNON. That is quite a different matter. She is my aunt. (Takes plate from below.) Have some bread and butter. The bread and butter is for Gwendolen. Gwendolen is devoted to bread and butter.
JACK (advancing to table and helping himself). And very good bread and butter it is too.
