by Oscar Wilde
LORD CAVERSHAM. (Testily.) I hate this affectation of youth, sir. It is a great deal too prevalent nowadays.
LORD GORING. Youth isn’t an affectation. Youth is an art.
LORD CAVERSHAM. Why don’t you propose to that pretty Miss Chiltern?
LORD GORING. I am of a very nervous disposition, especially in the morning.
LORD CAVERSHAM. I don’t suppose there is the smallest chance of her accepting you.
LORD GORING. I don’t know how the betting stands to-day.
LORD CAVERSHAM. If she did accept you she would be the prettiest fool in England.
LORD GORING. That is just what I should like to marry. A thoroughly sensible wife would reduce me to a condition of absolute idiocy in less than six months.
LORD CAVERSHAM. You don’t deserve her, sir.
LORD GORING. My dear father, if we men married the women we deserved, we should have a very bad time of it.
(Enter Mabel Chiltern.)
MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! … How do you do, Lord Caversham? I hope Lady Caversham is quite well?
LORD CAVERSHAM. Lady Caversham is as usual, as usual.
LORD GORING. Good morning, Miss Mabel!
MABEL CHILTERN. (Taking no notice at all of Lord Goring, and addressing herself exclusively to Lord Caversham.) And Lady Caversham’s bonnets … are they at all better?
LORD CAVERSHAM. They have had a serious relapse, I am sorry to say.
LORD GORING. Good morning, Miss Mabel!
MABEL CHILTERN. (To Lord Caversham.) I hope an operation will not be necessary.
LORD CAVERSHAM. (Smiling at her pertness.) If it is we shall have to give Lady Caversham a narcotic. Otherwise she would never consent to have a feather touched.
LORD GORING. (With increased emphasis.) Good morning, Miss Mabel!
MABEL CHILTERN. (Turning round with feigned surprise.) Oh, are you here? of course you understand that after your breaking your appointment I am never going to speak to you again.
LORD GORING. Oh, please don’t say such a thing. You are the one person in London I really like to have to listen to me.
MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring, I never believe a single word that either you or I say to each other.
LORD CAVERSHAM. You are quite right, my dear, quite right … as far as he is concerned, I mean.
MABEL CHILTERN. Do you think you could possibly make your son behave a little better occasionally? Just as a change.
LORD CAVERSHAM. I regret to say, Miss Chiltern, that I have no influence at all over my son. I wish I had. If I had, I know what I would make him do.
MABEL CHILTERN. I am afraid that he has one of those terribly weak natures that are not susceptible to influence.
LORD CAVERSHAM. He is very heartless, very heartless.
LORD GORING. It seems to me that I am a little in the way here.
MABEL CHILTERN. It is very good for you to be in the way, and to know what people say of you behind your back.
LORD GORING. I don’t at all like knowing what people say of me behind my back. It makes me far too conceited.
LORD CAVERSHAM. After that, my dear, I really must bid you good morning.
MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! I hope you are not going to leave me all alone with Lord Goring? Especially at such an early hour in the day.
LORD CAVERSHAM. I am afraid I can’t take him with me to Downing Street. It is not the Prime Minister’s day for seeing the unemployed.
(Shakes hands with Mabel Chiltern, takes up his hat and stick, and goes out, with a parting glare of indignation at Lord Goring.)
MABEL CHILTERN. (Takes up roses and begins to arrange them in a bowl on the table.) People who don’t keep their appointments in the Park are horrid.
LORD GORING. Detestable.
MABEL CHILTERN. I am glad you admit it. But I wish you wouldn’t look so pleased about it.
LORD GORING. I can’t help it. I always look pleased when I am with you.
MABEL CHILTERN. (Sadly.) Then I suppose it is my duty to remain with you? LORD GORING. Of course it is.
MABEL CHILTERN. Well, my duty is a thing I never do, on principle.
It always depresses me. So I am afraid I must leave you.
LORD GORING. Please don’t, Miss Mabel. I have something very particular to say to you.
MABEL CHILTERN. (Rapturously.) Oh! is it a proposal?
LORD GORING. (Somewhat taken aback.) Well, yes, it is—I am bound to say it is.
MABEL CHILTERN. (With a sigh of pleasure.) I am so glad. That makes the second to-day.
LORD GORING. (Indignantly.) The second to-day? What conceited ass has been impertinent enough to dare to propose to you before I had proposed to you?
MABEL CHILTERN. Tommy Trafford, of course. It is one of Tommy’s days for proposing. He always proposes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, during the season.
LORD GORING. You didn’t accept him, I hope?
MABEL CHILTERN. I make it a rule never to accept Tommy. That is why he goes on proposing. Of course, as you didn’t turn up this morning, I very nearly said yes. It would have been an excellent lesson both for him and for you if I had. It would have taught you both better manners.
LORD GORING. Oh! bother Tommy Trafford. Tommy is a silly little ass. I love you.
MABEL CHILTERN. I know. And I think you might have mentioned it before. I am sure I have given you heaps of opportunities.
LORD GORING. Mabel, do be serious. Please be serious.
MABEL CHILTERN. Ah! that is the sort of thing a man always says to a girl before he has been married to her. He never says it afterwards.
LORD GORING. (Taking hold of her hand.) Mabel, I have told you that I love you. Can’t you love me a little in return?
MABEL CHILTERN. You silly Arthur! If you knew anything about … anything, which you don’t, you would know that I adore you. Everyone in London knows it except you. It is a public scandal the way I adore you. I have been going about for the last six months telling the whole of society that I adore you. I wonder you consent to have anything to say to me. I have no character left at all. At least, I feel so happy that I am quite sure I have no character left at all.
LORD GORING. (Catches her in his arms and kisses her. Then there is a pause of bliss.) Dear! Do you know I was awfully afraid of being refused!
MABEL CHILTERN. (Looking up at him.) But you never have been refused yet by anybody, have you, Arthur? I can’t imagine anyone refusing you.
LORD GORING. (After kissing her again.) Of course I’m not nearly good enough for you, Mabel.
MABEL CHILTERN. (Nestling close to him.) I am so glad, darling. I was afraid you were.
LORD GORING. (After some hesitation.) And I’m … I’m a little over thirty.
MABEL CHILTERN. Dear, you look weeks younger than that.
LORD GORING. (Enthusiastically.) How sweet of you to say so!… And it is only fair to tell you frankly that I am fearfully extravagant.
MABEL CHILTERN. But so am I, Arthur. So we’re sure to agree. And now I must go and see Gertrude.
LORD GORING. Must you really? (Kisses her.)
MABEL CHILTERN. Yes.
LORD GORING. Then do tell her I want to talk to her particularly. I have been waiting here all the morning to see either her or Robert.
MABEL CHILTERN. Do you mean to say you didn’t come here expressly to propose to me?
LORD GORING. (Triumphantly.) No; that was a flash of genius.
MABEL CHILTERN. Your first.
LORD GORING. (With determination.) My last.
MABEL CHILTERN. I am delighted to hear it. Now don’t stir. I’ll be back in five minutes. And don’t fall into any temptations while I am away.
LORD GORING. Dear Mabel, while you are away, there are none. It makes me horribly dependent on you.
(Enter Lady Chiltern.)
LADY CHILTERN. Good morning, dear! How pretty you are looking!
MABEL CHILTERN. How pale you are looking, Gertrude! It is most becoming!
LADY CHILTERN. Good morning, Lord Goring!
LORD GORING. (Bowing.) Good morning, Lady Chiltern!
MABEL CHILTERN. (Aside to Lord Goring.) I shall be in the conservatory, under the second palm tree on the left.
LORD GORING. Second on the left?
MABEL CHILTERN. (With a look of mock surprise.) Yes; the usual palm tree.
(Blows a kiss to him, unobserved by Lady Chiltern, and goes out.)
LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern, I have a certain amount of very good news to tell you. Mrs. Cheveley gave me up Robert’s letter last night, and I burned it. Robert is safe.
LADY CHILTERN. (Sinking on the sofa.) Safe! Oh! I am so glad of that. What a good friend you are to him—to us!
LORD GORING. There is only one person now that could be said to be in any danger.
LADY CHILTERN. Who is that?
LORD GORING. (Sitting down beside her.) Yourself.
LADY CHILTERN. I! In danger? What do you mean?
LORD GORING. Danger is too great a word. It is a word I should not have used. But I admit I have something to tell you that may distress you, that terribly distresses me. Yesterday evening you wrote me a very beautiful, womanly letter, asking me for my help. You wrote to me as one of your oldest friends, one of your husband’s oldest friends. Mrs. Cheveley stole that letter from my rooms.
LADY CHILTERN. Well, what use is it to her? Why should she not have it?
LORD GORING. (Rising.) Lady Chiltern, I will be quite frank with you. Mrs. Cheveley puts a certain construction on that letter and proposes to send it to your husband.
LADY CHILTERN. But what construction could she put on it?… Oh! not that! not that! If I in—in trouble, and wanting your help, trusting you, propose to come to you … that you may advise me … assist me … Oh! are there women so horrible as that …? And she proposes to send it to my husband? Tell me what happened. Tell me all that happened.
LORD GORING. Mrs. Cheveley was concealed in a room adjoining my library, without my knowledge. I thought that the person who was waiting in that room to see me was yourself. Robert came in unexpectedly. A chair or something fell in the room. He forced his way in, and he discovered her. We had a terrible scene. I still thought it was you. He left me in anger. At the end of everything Mrs. Cheveley got possession of your letter—she stole it, when or how, I don’t know.
LADY CHILTERN. At what hour did this happen?
LORD GORING. At half-past ten. And now I propose that we tell Robert the whole thing at once.
LADY CHILTERN. (Looking at him with amazement that is almost terror.) You want me to tell Robert that the woman you expected was not Mrs. Cheveley, but myself? That it was I whom you thought was concealed in a room in your house, at half-past ten o’clock at night? You want me to tell him that?
LORD GORING. I think it is better that he should know the exact truth.
LADY CHILTERN. (Rising.) Oh, I couldn’t, I couldn’t!
LORD GORING. May I do it?
LADY CHILTERN. No.
LORD GORING. (Gravely.) You are wrong, Lady Chiltern.
LADY CHILTERN. No. The letter must be intercepted. That is all. But how can I do it? Letters arrive for him every moment of the day. His secretaries open them and hand them to him. I dare not ask the servants to bring me his letters. It would be impossible. Oh! why don’t you tell me what to do?
LORD GORING. Pray be calm, Lady Chiltern, and answer the questions I am going to put to you. You said his secretaries open his letters.
LADY CHILTERN. Yes.
LORD GORING. Who is with him to-day? Mr. Trafford, isn’t it?
LADY CHILTERN. No. Mr. Montfort, I think.
LORD GORING. You can trust him?
LADY CHILTERN. (With a gesture of despair.) Oh! how do I know?
LORD GORING. He would do what you asked him, wouldn’t he?
LADY CHILTERN. I think so.
LORD GORING. Your letter was on pink paper. He could recognize it without reading it, couldn’t he? By the colour?
LADY CHILTERN. I suppose so.
LORD GORING. Is he in the house now?
LADY CHILTERN. Yes.
LORD GORING. Then I will go and see him myself, and tell him that a certain letter, written on pink paper, is to be forwarded to Robert to-day, and that at all costs it must not reach him. (Goes to the door, and opens it.) Oh! Robert is coming upstairs with the letter in his hand. It has reached him already.
LADY CHILTERN. (With a cry of pain.) Oh! you have saved his life; what have you done with mine!
(Enter Sir Robert Chiltern. He has the letter in his hand, and is reading it. He comes towards his wife, not noticing Lord Goring’s presence.)
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. “I want you. I trust you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.” Oh, my love! Is this true? Do you indeed trust me, and want me? If so, it was for me to come to you, not for you to write of coming to me. This letter of yours, Gertrude, makes me feel that nothing that the world may do can hurt me now. You want me, Gertrude?
(Lord Goring, unseen by Sir Robert Chiltern, makes an imploring sign to Lady Chiltern to accept the situation and Sir Robert’s error.)
LADY CHILTERN. Yes.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You trust me, Gertrude?
LADY CHILTERN. Yes.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Ah! why did you not add you loved me?
LADY CHILTERN. (Taking his hand.) Because I loved you.
(Lord Goring passes into the conservatory.)
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. (Kisses her.) Gertrude, you don’t know what I feel. When Montfort passed me your letter across the table—he had opened it by mistake, I suppose, without looking at the handwriting on the envelope—and I read it—oh! I did not care what disgrace or punishment was in store for me, I only thought you loved me still.
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 h
ave 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 realizes 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!
