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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/885-0.txt b/885-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc7e21d --- /dev/null +++ b/885-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4850 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of An Ideal Husband, by Oscar Wilde + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: An Ideal Husband + A Play + +Author: Oscar Wilde + +Release Date: April, 1997 [eBook #885] +[Most recently updated: June 7, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: David Price + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN IDEAL HUSBAND *** + + + + + AN IDEAL HUSBAND + + + A PLAY + + BY + OSCAR WILDE + + * * * * * + + METHUEN & CO. LTD. + 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. + LONDON + + * * * * * + + _First Published_, _at 1s. net_, _in 1912_ + + * * * * * + +_This book was First Published in 1893_ + +_First Published_ (_Second Edition_) _by _February_ _1908_ + Methuen & Co._ +_Third Edition_ _October_ _1909_ +_Fourth edition_ _October_ _1910_ +_Fifth Edition_ _May_ _1912_ + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + + +THE EARL OF CAVERSHAM, K.G. + +VISCOUNT GORING, his Son + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN, Bart., Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC, Attaché at the French Embassy in London + +MR. MONTFORD + +MASON, Butler to Sir Robert Chiltern + +PHIPPS, Lord Goring’s Servant + +JAMES } + +HAROLD } Footmen + +LADY CHILTERN + +LADY MARKBY + +THE COUNTESS OF BASILDON + +MRS. MARCHMONT + +MISS MABEL CHILTERN, Sir Robert Chiltern’s Sister + +MRS. CHEVELEY + + + + +THE SCENES OF THE PLAY + + +ACT I. _The Octagon Room in Sir Robert Chiltern’s House in Grosvenor +Square_. + +ACT II. _Morning-room in Sir Robert Chiltern’s House_. + +ACT III. _The Library of Lord Goring’s House in Curzon Street_. + +ACT IV. _Same as Act II_. + +TIME: _The Present_ + +PLACE: _London_. + + _The action of the play is completed within twenty-four hours_. + + + + +THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET + + + _Sole Lessee_: _Mr. Herbert Beerbohm Tree_ + + _Managers_: _Mr. Lewis Waller and Mr. H. H. Morell_ + + _January_ 3_rd_, 1895 + +THE EARL OF CAVERSHAM _Mr. Alfred Bishop_. +VISCOUNT GORING _Mr. Charles H. Hawtrey_. +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _Mr. Lewis Waller_. +VICOMTE DE NANJAC _Mr. Cosmo Stuart_. +MR. MONTFORD _Mr. Harry Stanford_. +PHIPPS _Mr. C. H. Brookfield_. +MASON _Mr. H. Deane_. +JAMES _Mr. Charles Meyrick_. +HAROLD _Mr. Goodhart_. +LADY CHILTERN _Miss Julia Neilson_. +LADY MARKBY _Miss Fanny Brough_. +COUNTESS OF BASILDON _Miss Vane Featherston_. +MRS. MARCHMONT _Miss Helen Forsyth_. +MISS MABEL CHILTERN _Miss Maud Millet_. +MRS. CHEVELEY _Miss Florence West_. + + + + +FIRST ACT + + +SCENE + + +_The octagon room at Sir Robert Chiltern’s house in Grosvenor Square_. + +[_The room is brilliantly lighted and full of guests_. _At the top of +the staircase stands_ LADY CHILTERN, _a woman of grave Greek beauty_, +_about twenty-seven years of age_. _She receives the guests as they come +up_. _Over the well of the staircase hangs a great chandelier with wax +lights_, _which illumine a large eighteenth-century French +tapestry—representing the Triumph of Love_, _from a design by +Boucher—that is stretched on the staircase wall_. _On the right is the +entrance to the music-room_. _The sound of a string quartette is faintly +heard_. _The entrance on the left leads to other reception-rooms_. MRS. +MARCHMONT _and_ LADY BASILDON, _two very pretty women_, _are seated +together on a Louis Seize sofa_. _They are types of exquisite +fragility_. _Their affectation of manner has a delicate charm_. +_Watteau would have loved to paint them_.] + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Going on to the Hartlocks’ to-night, Margaret? + +LADY BASILDON. I suppose so. Are you? + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Yes. Horribly tedious parties they give, don’t they? + +LADY BASILDON. Horribly tedious! Never know why I go. Never know why I +go anywhere. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. I come here to be educated. + +LADY BASILDON. Ah! I hate being educated! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. So do I. It puts one almost on a level with the +commercial classes, doesn’t it? But dear Gertrude Chiltern is always +telling me that I should have some serious purpose in life. So I come +here to try to find one. + +LADY BASILDON. [_Looking round through her lorgnette_.] I don’t see +anybody here to-night whom one could possibly call a serious purpose. +The man who took me in to dinner talked to me about his wife the whole +time. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. How very trivial of him! + +LADY BASILDON. Terribly trivial! What did your man talk about? + +MRS. MARCHMONT. About myself. + +LADY BASILDON. [_Languidly_.] And were you interested? + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Shaking her head_.] Not in the smallest degree. + +LADY BASILDON. What martyrs we are, dear Margaret! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Rising_.] And how well it becomes us, Olivia! + +[_They rise and go towards the music-room_. _The_ VICOMTE DE NANJAC, _a +young attaché known for his neckties and his Anglomania_, _approaches +with a low bow_, _and enters into conversation_.] + +MASON. [_Announcing guests from the top of the staircase_.] Mr. and +Lady Jane Barford. Lord Caversham. + +[_Enter_ LORD CAVERSHAM, _an old gentleman of seventy_, _wearing the +riband and star of the Garter_. _A fine Whig type_. _Rather like a +portrait by Lawrence_.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Good evening, Lady Chiltern! Has my good-for-nothing +young son been here? + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Smiling_.] I don’t think Lord Goring has arrived yet. + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_Coming up to_ LORD CAVERSHAM.] Why do you call Lord +Goring good-for-nothing? + +[MABEL CHILTERN _is a perfect example of the English type of prettiness_, +_the apple-blossom type_. _She has all the fragrance and freedom of a +flower_. _There is ripple after ripple of sunlight in her hair_, _and +the little mouth_, _with its parted lips_, _is expectant_, _like the +mouth of a child_. _She has the fascinating tyranny of youth_, _and the +astonishing courage of innocence_. _To sane people she is not +reminiscent of any work of art_. _But she is really like a Tanagra +statuette_, _and would be rather annoyed if she were told so_.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Because he leads such an idle life. + +MABEL CHILTERN. How can you say such a thing? Why, he rides in the Row +at ten o’clock in the morning, goes to the Opera three times a week, +changes his clothes at least five times a day, and dines out every night +of the season. You don’t call that leading an idle life, do you? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Looking at her with a kindly twinkle in his eyes_.] +You are a very charming young lady! + +MABEL CHILTERN. How sweet of you to say that, Lord Caversham! Do come +to us more often. You know we are always at home on Wednesdays, and you +look so well with your star! + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Never go anywhere now. Sick of London Society. +Shouldn’t mind being introduced to my own tailor; he always votes on the +right side. But object strongly to being sent down to dinner with my +wife’s milliner. Never could stand Lady Caversham’s bonnets. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Oh, I love London Society! I think it has immensely +improved. It is entirely composed now of beautiful idiots and brilliant +lunatics. Just what Society should be. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Hum! Which is Goring? Beautiful idiot, or the other +thing? + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_Gravely_.] I have been obliged for the present to put +Lord Goring into a class quite by himself. But he is developing +charmingly! + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Into what? + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_With a little curtsey_.] I hope to let you know very +soon, Lord Caversham! + +MASON. [_Announcing guests_.] Lady Markby. Mrs. Cheveley. + +[_Enter_ LADY MARKBY _and_ MRS. CHEVELEY. LADY MARKBY _is a pleasant_, +_kindly_, _popular woman_, _with gray hair à la marquise and good lace_. +MRS. CHEVELEY, _who accompanies her_, _is tall and rather slight_. _Lips +very thin and highly-coloured_, _a line of scarlet on a pallid face_. +_Venetian red hair_, _aquiline nose_, _and long throat_. _Rouge +accentuates the natural paleness of her complexion_. _Gray-green eyes +that move restlessly_. _She is in heliotrope_, _with diamonds_. _She +looks rather like an orchid_, _and makes great demands on one’s +curiosity_. _In all her movements she is extremely graceful_. _A work +of art_, _on the whole_, _but showing the influence of too many +schools_.] + +LADY MARKBY. Good evening, dear Gertrude! So kind of you to let me +bring my friend, Mrs. Cheveley. Two such charming women should know each +other! + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Advances towards_ MRS. CHEVELEY _with a sweet smile_. +_Then suddenly stops_, _and bows rather distantly_.] I think Mrs. +Cheveley and I have met before. I did not know she had married a second +time. + +LADY MARKBY. [_Genially_.] Ah, nowadays people marry as often as they +can, don’t they? It is most fashionable. [_To_ DUCHESS OF MARYBOROUGH.] +Dear Duchess, and how is the Duke? Brain still weak, I suppose? Well, +that is only to be expected, is it not? His good father was just the +same. There is nothing like race, is there? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Playing with her fan_.] But have we really met before, +Lady Chiltern? I can’t remember where. I have been out of England for +so long. + +LADY CHILTERN. We were at school together, Mrs. Cheveley. + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_Superciliously_.] Indeed? I have forgotten all about my +schooldays. I have a vague impression that they were detestable. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Coldly_.] I am not surprised! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_In her sweetest manner_.] Do you know, I am quite +looking forward to meeting your clever husband, Lady Chiltern. Since he +has been at the Foreign Office, he has been so much talked of in Vienna. +They actually succeed in spelling his name right in the newspapers. That +in itself is fame, on the continent. + +LADY CHILTERN. I hardly think there will be much in common between you +and my husband, Mrs. Cheveley! [_Moves away_.] + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. Ah! chère Madame, quelle surprise! I have not seen +you since Berlin! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Not since Berlin, Vicomte. Five years ago! + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. And you are younger and more beautiful than ever. +How do you manage it? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. By making it a rule only to talk to perfectly charming +people like yourself. + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. Ah! you flatter me. You butter me, as they say here. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Do they say that here? How dreadful of them! + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. Yes, they have a wonderful language. It should be +more widely known. + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _enters_. _A man of forty_, _but looking somewhat +younger_. _Clean-shaven_, _with finely-cut features_, _dark-haired and +dark-eyed_. _A personality of mark_. _Not popular—few personalities +are_. _But intensely admired by the few_, _and deeply respected by the +many_. _The note of his manner is that of perfect distinction_, _with a +slight touch of pride_. _One feels that he is conscious of the success +he has made in life_. _A nervous temperament_, _with a tired look_. +_The firmly-chiselled mouth and chin contrast strikingly with the +romantic expression in the deep-set eyes_. _The variance is suggestive +of an almost complete separation of passion and intellect_, _as though +thought and emotion were each isolated in its own sphere through some +violence of will-power_. _There is nervousness in the nostrils_, _and in +the pale_, _thin_, _pointed hands_. _It would be inaccurate to call him +picturesque_. _Picturesqueness cannot survive the House of Commons_. +_But Vandyck would have liked to have painted his head_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Good evening, Lady Markby! I hope you have brought +Sir John with you? + +LADY MARKBY. Oh! I have brought a much more charming person than Sir +John. Sir John’s temper since he has taken seriously to politics has +become quite unbearable. Really, now that the House of Commons is trying +to become useful, it does a great deal of harm. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I hope not, Lady Markby. At any rate we do our +best to waste the public time, don’t we? But who is this charming person +you have been kind enough to bring to us? + +LADY MARKBY. Her name is Mrs. Cheveley! One of the Dorsetshire +Cheveleys, I suppose. But I really don’t know. Families are so mixed +nowadays. Indeed, as a rule, everybody turns out to be somebody else. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Mrs. Cheveley? I seem to know the name. + +LADY MARKBY. She has just arrived from Vienna. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Ah! yes. I think I know whom you mean. + +LADY MARKBY. Oh! she goes everywhere there, and has such pleasant +scandals about all her friends. I really must go to Vienna next winter. +I hope there is a good chef at the Embassy. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. If there is not, the Ambassador will certainly have +to be recalled. Pray point out Mrs. Cheveley to me. I should like to +see her. + +LADY MARKBY. Let me introduce you. [_To_ MRS. CHEVELEY.] My dear, Sir +Robert Chiltern is dying to know you! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Bowing_.] Every one is dying to know the +brilliant Mrs. Cheveley. Our attachés at Vienna write to us about +nothing else. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you, Sir Robert. An acquaintance that begins with +a compliment is sure to develop into a real friendship. It starts in the +right manner. And I find that I know Lady Chiltern already. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Really? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. She has just reminded me that we were at school +together. I remember it perfectly now. She always got the good conduct +prize. I have a distinct recollection of Lady Chiltern always getting +the good conduct prize! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Smiling_.] And what prizes did you get, Mrs. +Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. My prizes came a little later on in life. I don’t think +any of them were for good conduct. I forget! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am sure they were for something charming! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I don’t know that women are always rewarded for being +charming. I think they are usually punished for it! Certainly, more +women grow old nowadays through the faithfulness of their admirers than +through anything else! At least that is the only way I can account for +the terribly haggard look of most of your pretty women in London! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What an appalling philosophy that sounds! To +attempt to classify you, Mrs. Cheveley, would be an impertinence. But +may I ask, at heart, are you an optimist or a pessimist? Those seem to +be the only two fashionable religions left to us nowadays. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I’m neither. Optimism begins in a broad grin, and +Pessimism ends with blue spectacles. Besides, they are both of them +merely poses. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You prefer to be natural? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Sometimes. But it is such a very difficult pose to keep +up. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What would those modern psychological novelists, of +whom we hear so much, say to such a theory as that? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Ah! the strength of women comes from the fact that +psychology cannot explain us. Men can be analysed, women . . . merely +adored. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You think science cannot grapple with the problem +of women? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Science can never grapple with the irrational. That is +why it has no future before it, in this world. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And women represent the irrational. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Well-dressed women do. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_With a polite bow_.] I fear I could hardly agree +with you there. But do sit down. And now tell me, what makes you leave +your brilliant Vienna for our gloomy London—or perhaps the question is +indiscreet? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Questions are never indiscreet. Answers sometimes are. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Well, at any rate, may I know if it is politics or +pleasure? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Politics are my only pleasure. You see nowadays it is +not fashionable to flirt till one is forty, or to be romantic till one is +forty-five, so we poor women who are under thirty, or say we are, have +nothing open to us but politics or philanthropy. And philanthropy seems +to me to have become simply the refuge of people who wish to annoy their +fellow-creatures. I prefer politics. I think they are more . . . +becoming! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. A political life is a noble career! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Sometimes. And sometimes it is a clever game, Sir +Robert. And sometimes it is a great nuisance. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Which do you find it? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I? A combination of all three. [_Drops her fan_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Picks up fan_.] Allow me! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But you have not told me yet what makes you honour +London so suddenly. Our season is almost over. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh! I don’t care about the London season! It is too +matrimonial. People are either hunting for husbands, or hiding from +them. I wanted to meet you. It is quite true. You know what a woman’s +curiosity is. Almost as great as a man’s! I wanted immensely to meet +you, and . . . to ask you to do something for me. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I hope it is not a little thing, Mrs. Cheveley. I +find that little things are so very difficult to do. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a moment’s reflection_.] No, I don’t think it is +quite a little thing. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am so glad. Do tell me what it is. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Later on. [_Rises_.] And now may I walk through your +beautiful house? I hear your pictures are charming. Poor Baron +Arnheim—you remember the Baron?—used to tell me you had some wonderful +Corots. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_With an almost imperceptible start_.] Did you +know Baron Arnheim well? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Smiling_.] Intimately. Did you? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. At one time. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Wonderful man, wasn’t he? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_After a pause_.] He was very remarkable, in many +ways. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I often think it such a pity he never wrote his memoirs. +They would have been most interesting. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes: he knew men and cities well, like the old +Greek. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Without the dreadful disadvantage of having a Penelope +waiting at home for him. + +MASON. Lord Goring. + +[_Enter_ LORD GORING. _Thirty-four_, _but always says he is younger_. +_A well-bred_, _expressionless face_. _He is clever_, _but would not +like to be thought so_. _A flawless dandy_, _he would be annoyed if he +were considered romantic_. _He plays with life_, _and is on perfectly +good terms with the world_. _He is fond of being misunderstood_. _It +gives him a post of vantage_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Good evening, my dear Arthur! Mrs. Cheveley, allow +me to introduce to you Lord Goring, the idlest man in London. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I have met Lord Goring before. + +LORD GORING. [_Bowing_.] I did not think you would remember me, Mrs. +Cheveley. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. My memory is under admirable control. And are you still +a bachelor? + +LORD GORING. I . . . believe so. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. How very romantic! + +LORD GORING. Oh! I am not at all romantic. I am not old enough. I +leave romance to my seniors. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Lord Goring is the result of Boodle’s Club, Mrs. +Cheveley. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. He reflects every credit on the institution. + +LORD GORING. May I ask are you staying in London long? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. That depends partly on the weather, partly on the +cooking, and partly on Sir Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You are not going to plunge us into a European war, +I hope? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. There is no danger, at present! + +[_She nods to_ LORD GORING, _with a look of amusement in her eyes_, _and +goes out with_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. LORD GORING _saunters over to_ MABEL +CHILTERN.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. You are very late! + +LORD GORING. Have you missed me? + +MABEL CHILTERN. Awfully! + +LORD GORING. Then I am sorry I did not stay away longer. I like being +missed. + +MABEL CHILTERN. How very selfish of you! + +LORD GORING. I am very selfish. + +MABEL CHILTERN. You are always telling me of your bad qualities, Lord +Goring. + +LORD GORING. I have only told you half of them as yet, Miss Mabel! + +MABEL CHILTERN. Are the others very bad? + +LORD GORING. Quite dreadful! When I think of them at night I go to +sleep at once. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Well, I delight in your bad qualities. I wouldn’t have +you part with one of them. + +LORD GORING. How very nice of you! But then you are always nice. By +the way, I want to ask you a question, Miss Mabel. Who brought Mrs. +Cheveley here? That woman in heliotrope, who has just gone out of the +room with your brother? + +MABEL CHILTERN. Oh, I think Lady Markby brought her. Why do you ask? + +LORD GORING. I haven’t seen her for years, that is all. + +MABEL CHILTERN. What an absurd reason! + +LORD GORING. All reasons are absurd. + +MABEL CHILTERN. What sort of a woman is she? + +LORD GORING. Oh! a genius in the daytime and a beauty at night! + +MABEL CHILTERN. I dislike her already. + +LORD GORING. That shows your admirable good taste. + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. [_Approaching_.] Ah, the English young lady is the +dragon of good taste, is she not? Quite the dragon of good taste. + +LORD GORING. So the newspapers are always telling us. + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. I read all your English newspapers. I find them so +amusing. + +LORD GORING. Then, my dear Nanjac, you must certainly read between the +lines. + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. I should like to, but my professor objects. [_To_ +MABEL CHILTERN.] May I have the pleasure of escorting you to the +music-room, Mademoiselle? + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_Looking very disappointed_.] Delighted, Vicomte, +quite delighted! [_Turning to_ LORD GORING.] Aren’t you coming to the +music-room? + +LORD GORING. Not if there is any music going on, Miss Mabel. + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_Severely_.] The music is in German. You would not +understand it. + +[_Goes out with the_ VICOMTE DE NANJAC. LORD CAVERSHAM _comes up to his +son_.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir! what are you doing here? Wasting your life +as usual! You should be in bed, sir. You keep too late hours! I heard +of you the other night at Lady Rufford’s dancing till four o’clock in the +morning! + +LORD GORING. Only a quarter to four, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Can’t make out how you stand London Society. The thing +has gone to the dogs, a lot of damned nobodies talking about nothing. + +LORD GORING. I love talking about nothing, father. It is the only thing +I know anything about. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. You seem to me to be living entirely for pleasure. + +LORD GORING. What else is there to live for, father? Nothing ages like +happiness. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. You are heartless, sir, very heartless! + +LORD GORING. I hope not, father. Good evening, Lady Basildon! + +LADY BASILDON. [_Arching two pretty eyebrows_.] Are you here? I had no +idea you ever came to political parties! + +LORD GORING. I adore political parties. They are the only place left to +us where people don’t talk politics. + +LADY BASILDON. I delight in talking politics. I talk them all day long. +But I can’t bear listening to them. I don’t know how the unfortunate men +in the House stand these long debates. + +LORD GORING. By never listening. + +LADY BASILDON. Really? + +LORD GORING. [_In his most serious manner_.] Of course. You see, it is +a very dangerous thing to listen. If one listens one may be convinced; +and a man who allows himself to be convinced by an argument is a +thoroughly unreasonable person. + +LADY BASILDON. Ah! that accounts for so much in men that I have never +understood, and so much in women that their husbands never appreciate in +them! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_With a sigh_.] Our husbands never appreciate anything +in us. We have to go to others for that! + +LADY BASILDON. [_Emphatically_.] Yes, always to others, have we not? + +LORD GORING. [_Smiling_.] And those are the views of the two ladies who +are known to have the most admirable husbands in London. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. That is exactly what we can’t stand. My Reginald is +quite hopelessly faultless. He is really unendurably so, at times! +There is not the smallest element of excitement in knowing him. + +LORD GORING. How terrible! Really, the thing should be more widely +known! + +LADY BASILDON. Basildon is quite as bad; he is as domestic as if he was +a bachelor. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Pressing_ LADY BASILDON’S _hand_.] My poor Olivia! +We have married perfect husbands, and we are well punished for it. + +LORD GORING. I should have thought it was the husbands who were +punished. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Drawing herself up_.] Oh, dear no! They are as happy +as possible! And as for trusting us, it is tragic how much they trust +us. + +LADY BASILDON. Perfectly tragic! + +LORD GORING. Or comic, Lady Basildon? + +LADY BASILDON. Certainly not comic, Lord Goring. How unkind of you to +suggest such a thing! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. I am afraid Lord Goring is in the camp of the enemy, as +usual. I saw him talking to that Mrs. Cheveley when he came in. + +LORD GORING. Handsome woman, Mrs. Cheveley! + +LADY BASILDON. [_Stiffly_.] Please don’t praise other women in our +presence. You might wait for us to do that! + +LORD GORING. I did wait. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Well, we are not going to praise her. I hear she went +to the Opera on Monday night, and told Tommy Rufford at supper that, as +far as she could see, London Society was entirely made up of dowdies and +dandies. + +LORD GORING. She is quite right, too. The men are all dowdies and the +women are all dandies, aren’t they? + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_After a pause_.] Oh! do you really think that is what +Mrs. Cheveley meant? + +LORD GORING. Of course. And a very sensible remark for Mrs. Cheveley to +make, too. + +[_Enter_ MABEL CHILTERN. _She joins the group_.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. Why are you talking about Mrs. Cheveley? Everybody is +talking about Mrs. Cheveley! Lord Goring says—what did you say, Lord +Goring, about Mrs. Cheveley? Oh! I remember, that she was a genius in +the daytime and a beauty at night. + +LADY BASILDON. What a horrid combination! So very unnatural! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_In her most dreamy manner_.] I like looking at +geniuses, and listening to beautiful people. + +LORD GORING. Ah! that is morbid of you, Mrs. Marchmont! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Brightening to a look of real pleasure_.] I am so +glad to hear you say that. Marchmont and I have been married for seven +years, and he has never once told me that I was morbid. Men are so +painfully unobservant! + +LADY BASILDON. [_Turning to her_.] I have always said, dear Margaret, +that you were the most morbid person in London. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Ah! but you are always sympathetic, Olivia! + +MABEL CHILTERN. Is it morbid to have a desire for food? I have a great +desire for food. Lord Goring, will you give me some supper? + +LORD GORING. With pleasure, Miss Mabel. [_Moves away with her_.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. How horrid you have been! You have never talked to me +the whole evening! + +LORD GORING. How could I? You went away with the child-diplomatist. + +MABEL CHILTERN. You might have followed us. Pursuit would have been +only polite. I don’t think I like you at all this evening! + +LORD GORING. I like you immensely. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Well, I wish you’d show it in a more marked way! [_They +go downstairs_.] + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Olivia, I have a curious feeling of absolute faintness. +I think I should like some supper very much. I know I should like some +supper. + +LADY BASILDON. I am positively dying for supper, Margaret! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Men are so horribly selfish, they never think of these +things. + +LADY BASILDON. Men are grossly material, grossly material! + +[_The_ VICOMTE DE NANJAC _enters from the music-room with some other +guests_. _After having carefully examined all the people present_, _he +approaches_ LADY BASILDON.] + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. May I have the honour of taking you down to supper, +Comtesse? + +LADY BASILDON. [_Coldly_.] I never take supper, thank you, Vicomte. +[_The_ VICOMTE _is about to retire_. LADY BASILDON, _seeing this_, +_rises at once and takes his arm_.] But I will come down with you with +pleasure. + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. I am so fond of eating! I am very English in all my +tastes. + +LADY BASILDON. You look quite English, Vicomte, quite English. + +[_They pass out_. MR. MONTFORD, _a perfectly groomed young dandy_, +_approaches_ MRS. MARCHMONT.] + +MR. MONTFORD. Like some supper, Mrs. Marchmont? + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Languidly_.] Thank you, Mr. Montford, I never touch +supper. [_Rises hastily and takes his arm_.] But I will sit beside you, +and watch you. + +MR. MONTFORD. I don’t know that I like being watched when I am eating! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Then I will watch some one else. + +MR. MONTFORD. I don’t know that I should like that either. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Severely_.] Pray, Mr. Montford, do not make these +painful scenes of jealousy in public! + +[_They go downstairs with the other guests_, _passing_ SIR ROBERT +CHILTERN _and_ MRS. CHEVELEY, _who now enter_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And are you going to any of our country houses +before you leave England, Mrs. Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, no! I can’t stand your English house-parties. In +England people actually try to be brilliant at breakfast. That is so +dreadful of them! Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast. And then +the family skeleton is always reading family prayers. My stay in England +really depends on you, Sir Robert. [_Sits down on the sofa_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Taking a seat beside her_.] Seriously? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Quite seriously. I want to talk to you about a great +political and financial scheme, about this Argentine Canal Company, in +fact. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What a tedious, practical subject for you to talk +about, Mrs. Cheveley! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I like tedious, practical subjects. What I don’t +like are tedious, practical people. There is a wide difference. +Besides, you are interested, I know, in International Canal schemes. You +were Lord Radley’s secretary, weren’t you, when the Government bought the +Suez Canal shares? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes. But the Suez Canal was a very great and +splendid undertaking. It gave us our direct route to India. It had +imperial value. It was necessary that we should have control. This +Argentine scheme is a commonplace Stock Exchange swindle. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. A speculation, Sir Robert! A brilliant, daring +speculation. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Believe me, Mrs. Cheveley, it is a swindle. Let us +call things by their proper names. It makes matters simpler. We have +all the information about it at the Foreign Office. In fact, I sent out +a special Commission to inquire into the matter privately, and they +report that the works are hardly begun, and as for the money already +subscribed, no one seems to know what has become of it. The whole thing +is a second Panama, and with not a quarter of the chance of success that +miserable affair ever had. I hope you have not invested in it. I am +sure you are far too clever to have done that. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I have invested very largely in it. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Who could have advised you to do such a foolish +thing? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Your old friend—and mine. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Who? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Baron Arnheim. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Frowning_.] Ah! yes. I remember hearing, at the +time of his death, that he had been mixed up in the whole affair. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. It was his last romance. His last but one, to do him +justice. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rising_.] But you have not seen my Corots yet. +They are in the music-room. Corots seem to go with music, don’t they? +May I show them to you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Shaking her head_.] I am not in a mood to-night for +silver twilights, or rose-pink dawns. I want to talk business. +[_Motions to him with her fan to sit down again beside her_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I fear I have no advice to give you, Mrs. Cheveley, +except to interest yourself in something less dangerous. The success of +the Canal depends, of course, on the attitude of England, and I am going +to lay the report of the Commissioners before the House to-morrow night. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. That you must not do. In your own interests, Sir Robert, +to say nothing of mine, you must not do that. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Looking at her in wonder_.] In my own interests? +My dear Mrs. Cheveley, what do you mean? [_Sits down beside her_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Sir Robert, I will be quite frank with you. I want you +to withdraw the report that you had intended to lay before the House, on +the ground that you have reasons to believe that the Commissioners have +been prejudiced or misinformed, or something. Then I want you to say a +few words to the effect that the Government is going to reconsider the +question, and that you have reason to believe that the Canal, if +completed, will be of great international value. You know the sort of +things ministers say in cases of this kind. A few ordinary platitudes +will do. In modern life nothing produces such an effect as a good +platitude. It makes the whole world kin. Will you do that for me? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Mrs. Cheveley, you cannot be serious in making me +such a proposition! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I am quite serious. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Coldly_.] Pray allow me to believe that you are +not. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Speaking with great deliberation and emphasis_.] Ah! +but I am. And if you do what I ask you, I . . . will pay you very +handsomely! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Pay me! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am afraid I don’t quite understand what you mean. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Leaning back on the sofa and looking at him_.] How +very disappointing! And I have come all the way from Vienna in order +that you should thoroughly understand me. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I fear I don’t. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_In her most nonchalant manner_.] My dear Sir Robert, +you are a man of the world, and you have your price, I suppose. +Everybody has nowadays. The drawback is that most people are so +dreadfully expensive. I know I am. I hope you will be more reasonable +in your terms. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rises indignantly_.] If you will allow me, I +will call your carriage for you. You have lived so long abroad, Mrs. +Cheveley, that you seem to be unable to realise that you are talking to +an English gentleman. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Detains him by touching his arm with her fan_, _and +keeping it there while she is talking_.] I realise that I am talking to +a man who laid the foundation of his fortune by selling to a Stock +Exchange speculator a Cabinet secret. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Biting his lip_.] What do you mean? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Rising and facing him_.] I mean that I know the real +origin of your wealth and your career, and I have got your letter, too. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What letter? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Contemptuously_.] The letter you wrote to Baron +Arnheim, when you were Lord Radley’s secretary, telling the Baron to buy +Suez Canal shares—a letter written three days before the Government +announced its own purchase. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Hoarsely_.] It is not true. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You thought that letter had been destroyed. How foolish +of you! It is in my possession. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. The affair to which you allude was no more than a +speculation. The House of Commons had not yet passed the bill; it might +have been rejected. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. It was a swindle, Sir Robert. Let us call things by +their proper names. It makes everything simpler. And now I am going to +sell you that letter, and the price I ask for it is your public support +of the Argentine scheme. You made your own fortune out of one canal. +You must help me and my friends to make our fortunes out of another! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It is infamous, what you propose—infamous! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, no! This is the game of life as we all have to play +it, Sir Robert, sooner or later! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I cannot do what you ask me. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You mean you cannot help doing it. You know you are +standing on the edge of a precipice. And it is not for you to make +terms. It is for you to accept them. Supposing you refuse— + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What then? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. My dear Sir Robert, what then? You are ruined, that is +all! Remember to what a point your Puritanism in England has brought +you. In old days nobody pretended to be a bit better than his +neighbours. In fact, to be a bit better than one’s neighbour was +considered excessively vulgar and middle-class. Nowadays, with our +modern mania for morality, every one has to pose as a paragon of purity, +incorruptibility, and all the other seven deadly virtues—and what is the +result? You all go over like ninepins—one after the other. Not a year +passes in England without somebody disappearing. Scandals used to lend +charm, or at least interest, to a man—now they crush him. And yours is a +very nasty scandal. You couldn’t survive it. If it were known that as a +young man, secretary to a great and important minister, you sold a +Cabinet secret for a large sum of money, and that that was the origin of +your wealth and career, you would be hounded out of public life, you +would disappear completely. And after all, Sir Robert, why should you +sacrifice your entire future rather than deal diplomatically with your +enemy? For the moment I am your enemy. I admit it! And I am much +stronger than you are. The big battalions are on my side. You have a +splendid position, but it is your splendid position that makes you so +vulnerable. You can’t defend it! And I am in attack. Of course I have +not talked morality to you. You must admit in fairness that I have +spared you that. Years ago you did a clever, unscrupulous thing; it +turned out a great success. You owe to it your fortune and position. +And now you have got to pay for it. Sooner or later we have all to pay +for what we do. You have to pay now. Before I leave you to-night, you +have got to promise me to suppress your report, and to speak in the House +in favour of this scheme. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What you ask is impossible. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You must make it possible. You are going to make it +possible. Sir Robert, you know what your English newspapers are like. +Suppose that when I leave this house I drive down to some newspaper +office, and give them this scandal and the proofs of it! Think of their +loathsome joy, of the delight they would have in dragging you down, of +the mud and mire they would plunge you in. Think of the hypocrite with +his greasy smile penning his leading article, and arranging the foulness +of the public placard. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Stop! You want me to withdraw the report and to +make a short speech stating that I believe there are possibilities in the +scheme? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Sitting down on the sofa_.] Those are my terms. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_In a low voice_.] I will give you any sum of +money you want. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Even you are not rich enough, Sir Robert, to buy back +your past. No man is. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I will not do what you ask me. I will not. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You have to. If you don’t . . . [_Rises from the sofa_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Bewildered and unnerved_.] Wait a moment! What +did you propose? You said that you would give me back my letter, didn’t +you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. That is agreed. I will be in the Ladies’ Gallery +to-morrow night at half-past eleven. If by that time—and you will have +had heaps of opportunity—you have made an announcement to the House in +the terms I wish, I shall hand you back your letter with the prettiest +thanks, and the best, or at any rate the most suitable, compliment I can +think of. I intend to play quite fairly with you. One should always +play fairly . . . when one has the winning cards. The Baron taught me +that . . . amongst other things. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You must let me have time to consider your +proposal. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. No; you must settle now! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Give me a week—three days! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Impossible! I have got to telegraph to Vienna to-night. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My God! what brought you into my life? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Circumstances. [_Moves towards the door_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Don’t go. I consent. The report shall be +withdrawn. I will arrange for a question to be put to me on the subject. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. I knew we should come to an amicable +agreement. I understood your nature from the first. I analysed you, +though you did not adore me. And now you can get my carriage for me, Sir +Robert. I see the people coming up from supper, and Englishmen always +get romantic after a meal, and that bores me dreadfully. [_Exit_ SIR +ROBERT CHILTERN.] + +[_Enter Guests_, LADY CHILTERN, LADY MARKBY, LORD CAVERSHAM, LADY +BASILDON, MRS. MARCHMONT, VICOMTE DE NANJAC, MR. MONTFORD.] + +LADY MARKBY. Well, dear Mrs. Cheveley, I hope you have enjoyed yourself. +Sir Robert is very entertaining, is he not? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Most entertaining! I have enjoyed my talk with him +immensely. + +LADY MARKBY. He has had a very interesting and brilliant career. And he +has married a most admirable wife. Lady Chiltern is a woman of the very +highest principles, I am glad to say. I am a little too old now, myself, +to trouble about setting a good example, but I always admire people who +do. And Lady Chiltern has a very ennobling effect on life, though her +dinner-parties are rather dull sometimes. But one can’t have everything, +can one? And now I must go, dear. Shall I call for you to-morrow? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. + +LADY MARKBY. We might drive in the Park at five. Everything looks so +fresh in the Park now! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Except the people! + +LADY MARKBY. Perhaps the people are a little jaded. I have often +observed that the Season as it goes on produces a kind of softening of +the brain. However, I think anything is better than high intellectual +pressure. That is the most unbecoming thing there is. It makes the +noses of the young girls so particularly large. And there is nothing so +difficult to marry as a large nose; men don’t like them. Good-night, +dear! [_To_ LADY CHILTERN.] Good-night, Gertrude! [_Goes out on_ LORD +CAVERSHAM’S _arm_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. What a charming house you have, Lady Chiltern! I have +spent a delightful evening. It has been so interesting getting to know +your husband. + +LADY CHILTERN. Why did you wish to meet my husband, Mrs. Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I will tell you. I wanted to interest him in this +Argentine Canal scheme, of which I dare say you have heard. And I found +him most susceptible,—susceptible to reason, I mean. A rare thing in a +man. I converted him in ten minutes. He is going to make a speech in +the House to-morrow night in favour of the idea. We must go to the +Ladies’ Gallery and hear him! It will be a great occasion! + +LADY CHILTERN. There must be some mistake. That scheme could never have +my husband’s support. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I assure you it’s all settled. I don’t regret my +tedious journey from Vienna now. It has been a great success. But, of +course, for the next twenty-four hours the whole thing is a dead secret. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Gently_.] A secret? Between whom? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a flash of amusement in her eyes_.] Between your +husband and myself. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Entering_.] Your carriage is here, Mrs. +Cheveley! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks! Good evening, Lady Chiltern! Good-night, Lord +Goring! I am at Claridge’s. Don’t you think you might leave a card? + +LORD GORING. If you wish it, Mrs. Cheveley! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, don’t be so solemn about it, or I shall be obliged to +leave a card on you. In England I suppose that would hardly be +considered _en règle_. Abroad, we are more civilised. Will you see me +down, Sir Robert? Now that we have both the same interests at heart we +shall be great friends, I hope! + +[_Sails out on_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN’S _arm_. LADY CHILTERN _goes to the +top of the staircase and looks down at them as they descend_. _Her +expression is troubled_. _After a little time she is joined by some of +the guests_, _and passes with them into another reception-room_.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. What a horrid woman! + +LORD GORING. You should go to bed, Miss Mabel. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring! + +LORD GORING. My father told me to go to bed an hour ago. I don’t see +why I shouldn’t give you the same advice. I always pass on good advice. +It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use to oneself. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring, you are always ordering me out of the room. +I think it most courageous of you. Especially as I am not going to bed +for hours. [_Goes over to the sofa_.] You can come and sit down if you +like, and talk about anything in the world, except the Royal Academy, +Mrs. Cheveley, or novels in Scotch dialect. They are not improving +subjects. [_Catches sight of something that is lying on the sofa half +hidden by the cushion_.] What is this? Some one has dropped a diamond +brooch! Quite beautiful, isn’t it? [_Shows it to him_.] I wish it was +mine, but Gertrude won’t let me wear anything but pearls, and I am +thoroughly sick of pearls. They make one look so plain, so good and so +intellectual. I wonder whom the brooch belongs to. + +LORD GORING. I wonder who dropped it. + +MABEL CHILTERN. It is a beautiful brooch. + +LORD GORING. It is a handsome bracelet. + +MABEL CHILTERN. It isn’t a bracelet. It’s a brooch. + +LORD GORING. It can be used as a bracelet. [_Takes it from her_, _and_, +_pulling out a green letter-case_, _puts the ornament carefully in it_, +_and replaces the whole thing in his breast-pocket with the most perfect +sang froid_.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. What are you doing? + +LORD GORING. Miss Mabel, I am going to make a rather strange request to +you. + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_Eagerly_.] Oh, pray do! I have been waiting for it +all the evening. + +LORD GORING. [_Is a little taken aback_, _but recovers himself_.] Don’t +mention to anybody that I have taken charge of this brooch. Should any +one write and claim it, let me know at once. + +MABEL CHILTERN. That is a strange request. + +LORD GORING. Well, you see I gave this brooch to somebody once, years +ago. + +MABEL CHILTERN. You did? + +LORD GORING. Yes. + +[LADY CHILTERN _enters alone_. _The other guests have gone_.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. Then I shall certainly bid you good-night. Good-night, +Gertrude! [_Exit_.] + +LADY CHILTERN. Good-night, dear! [_To_ LORD GORING.] You saw whom Lady +Markby brought here to-night? + +LORD GORING. Yes. It was an unpleasant surprise. What did she come +here for? + +LADY CHILTERN. Apparently to try and lure Robert to uphold some +fraudulent scheme in which she is interested. The Argentine Canal, in +fact. + +LORD GORING. She has mistaken her man, hasn’t she? + +LADY CHILTERN. She is incapable of understanding an upright nature like +my husband’s! + +LORD GORING. Yes. I should fancy she came to grief if she tried to get +Robert into her toils. It is extraordinary what astounding mistakes +clever women make. + +LADY CHILTERN. I don’t call women of that kind clever. I call them +stupid! + +LORD GORING. Same thing often. Good-night, Lady Chiltern! + +LADY CHILTERN. Good-night! + +[_Enter_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My dear Arthur, you are not going? Do stop a +little! + +LORD GORING. Afraid I can’t, thanks. I have promised to look in at the +Hartlocks’. I believe they have got a mauve Hungarian band that plays +mauve Hungarian music. See you soon. Good-bye! + +[_Exit_] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. How beautiful you look to-night, Gertrude! + +LADY CHILTERN. Robert, it is not true, is it? You are not going to lend +your support to this Argentine speculation? You couldn’t! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Starting_.] Who told you I intended to do so? + +LADY CHILTERN. That woman who has just gone out, Mrs. Cheveley, as she +calls herself now. She seemed to taunt me with it. Robert, I know this +woman. You don’t. We were at school together. She was untruthful, +dishonest, an evil influence on every one whose trust or friendship she +could win. I hated, I despised her. She stole things, she was a thief. +She was sent away for being a thief. Why do you let her influence you? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude, what you tell me may be true, but it +happened many years ago. It is best forgotten! Mrs. Cheveley may have +changed since then. No one should be entirely judged by their past. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Sadly_.] One’s past is what one is. It is the only +way by which people should be judged. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. That is a hard saying, Gertrude! + +LADY CHILTERN. It is a true saying, Robert. And what did she mean by +boasting that she had got you to lend your support, your name, to a thing +I have heard you describe as the most dishonest and fraudulent scheme +there has ever been in political life? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Biting his lip_.] I was mistaken in the view I +took. We all may make mistakes. + +LADY CHILTERN. But you told me yesterday that you had received the +report from the Commission, and that it entirely condemned the whole +thing. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Walking up and down_.] I have reasons now to +believe that the Commission was prejudiced, or, at any rate, misinformed. +Besides, Gertrude, public and private life are different things. They +have different laws, and move on different lines. + +LADY CHILTERN. They should both represent man at his highest. I see no +difference between them. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Stopping_.] In the present case, on a matter of +practical politics, I have changed my mind. That is all. + +LADY CHILTERN. All! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Sternly_.] Yes! + +LADY CHILTERN. Robert! Oh! it is horrible that I should have to ask you +such a question—Robert, are you telling me the whole truth? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Why do you ask me such a question? + +LADY CHILTERN. [_After a pause_.] Why do you not answer it? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Sitting down_.] Gertrude, truth is a very +complex thing, and politics is a very complex business. There are wheels +within wheels. One may be under certain obligations to people that one +must pay. Sooner or later in political life one has to compromise. +Every one does. + +LADY CHILTERN. Compromise? Robert, why do you talk so differently +to-night from the way I have always heard you talk? Why are you changed? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am not changed. But circumstances alter things. + +LADY CHILTERN. Circumstances should never alter principles! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But if I told you— + +LADY CHILTERN. What? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. That it was necessary, vitally necessary? + +LADY CHILTERN. It can never be necessary to do what is not honourable. +Or if it be necessary, then what is it that I have loved! But it is not, +Robert; tell me it is not. Why should it be? What gain would you get? +Money? We have no need of that! And money that comes from a tainted +source is a degradation. Power? But power is nothing in itself. It is +power to do good that is fine—that, and that only. What is it, then? +Robert, tell me why you are going to do this dishonourable thing! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude, you have no right to use that word. I +told you it was a question of rational compromise. It is no more than +that. + +LADY CHILTERN. Robert, that is all very well for other men, for men who +treat life simply as a sordid speculation; but not for you, Robert, not +for you. You are different. All your life you have stood apart from +others. You have never let the world soil you. To the world, as to +myself, you have been an ideal always. Oh! be that ideal still. That +great inheritance throw not away—that tower of ivory do not destroy. +Robert, men can love what is beneath them—things unworthy, stained, +dishonoured. We women worship when we love; and when we lose our +worship, we lose everything. Oh! don’t kill my love for you, don’t kill +that! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude! + +LADY CHILTERN. I know that there are men with horrible secrets in their +lives—men who have done some shameful thing, and who in some critical +moment have to pay for it, by doing some other act of shame—oh! don’t +tell me you are such as they are! Robert, is there in your life any +secret dishonour or disgrace? Tell me, tell me at once, that— + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. That what? + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Speaking very slowly_.] That our lives may drift +apart. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Drift apart? + +LADY CHILTERN. That they may be entirely separate. It would be better +for us both. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude, there is nothing in my past life that you +might not know. + +LADY CHILTERN. I was sure of it, Robert, I was sure of it. But why did +you say those dreadful things, things so unlike your real self? Don’t +let us ever talk about the subject again. You will write, won’t you, to +Mrs. Cheveley, and tell her that you cannot support this scandalous +scheme of hers? If you have given her any promise you must take it back, +that is all! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Must I write and tell her that? + +LADY CHILTERN. Surely, Robert! What else is there to do? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I might see her personally. It would be better. + +LADY CHILTERN. You must never see her again, Robert. She is not a woman +you should ever speak to. She is not worthy to talk to a man like you. +No; you must write to her at once, now, this moment, and let your letter +show her that your decision is quite irrevocable! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Write this moment! + +LADY CHILTERN. Yes. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But it is so late. It is close on twelve. + +LADY CHILTERN. That makes no matter. She must know at once that she has +been mistaken in you—and that you are not a man to do anything base or +underhand or dishonourable. Write here, Robert. Write that you decline +to support this scheme of hers, as you hold it to be a dishonest scheme. +Yes—write the word dishonest. She knows what that word means. [SIR +ROBERT CHILTERN _sits down and writes a letter_. _His wife takes it up +and reads it_.] Yes; that will do. [_Rings bell_.] And now the +envelope. [_He writes the envelope slowly_. _Enter_ MASON.] Have this +letter sent at once to Claridge’s Hotel. There is no answer. [_Exit_ +MASON. LADY CHILTERN _kneels down beside her husband_, _and puts her +arms around him_.] Robert, love gives one an instinct to things. I feel +to-night that I have saved you from something that might have been a +danger to you, from something that might have made men honour you less +than they do. I don’t think you realise sufficiently, Robert, that you +have brought into the political life of our time a nobler atmosphere, a +finer attitude towards life, a freer air of purer aims and higher +ideals—I know it, and for that I love you, Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh, love me always, Gertrude, love me always! + +LADY CHILTERN. I will love you always, because you will always be worthy +of love. We needs must love the highest when we see it! [_Kisses him +and rises and goes out_.] + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _walks up and down for a moment_; _then sits down +and buries his face in his hands_. _The Servant enters and begins +pulling out the lights_. SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _looks up_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Put out the lights, Mason, put out the lights! + +[_The Servant puts out the lights_. _The room becomes almost dark_. +_The only light there is comes from the great chandelier that hangs over +the staircase and illumines the tapestry of the Triumph of Love_.] + + ACT DROP. + + + + +SECOND ACT + + +SCENE + + +_Morning-room at Sir Robert Chiltern’s house_. + +[LORD GORING, _dressed in the height of fashion_, _is lounging in an +armchair_. SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _is standing in front of the fireplace_. +_He is evidently in a state of great mental excitement and distress_. +_As the scene progresses he paces nervously up and down the room_.] + +LORD GORING. My dear Robert, it’s a very awkward business, very awkward +indeed. You should have told your wife the whole thing. Secrets from +other people’s wives are a necessary luxury in modern life. So, at +least, I am always told at the club by people who are bald enough to know +better. But no man should have a secret from his own wife. She +invariably finds it out. Women have a wonderful instinct about things. +They can discover everything except the obvious. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur, I couldn’t tell my wife. When could I have +told her? Not last night. It would have made a life-long separation +between us, and I would have lost the love of the one woman in the world +I worship, of the only woman who has ever stirred love within me. Last +night it would have been quite impossible. She would have turned from me +in horror . . . in horror and in contempt. + +LORD GORING. Is Lady Chiltern as perfect as all that? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes; my wife is as perfect as all that. + +LORD GORING. [_Taking off his left-hand glove_.] What a pity! I beg +your pardon, my dear fellow, I didn’t quite mean that. But if what you +tell me is true, I should like to have a serious talk about life with +Lady Chiltern. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It would be quite useless. + +LORD GORING. May I try? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes; but nothing could make her alter her views. + +LORD GORING. Well, at the worst it would simply be a psychological +experiment. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. All such experiments are terribly dangerous. + +LORD GORING. Everything is dangerous, my dear fellow. If it wasn’t so, +life wouldn’t be worth living. . . . Well, I am bound to say that I think +you should have told her years ago. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. When? When we were engaged? Do you think she +would have married me if she had known that the origin of my fortune is +such as it is, the basis of my career such as it is, and that I had done +a thing that I suppose most men would call shameful and dishonourable? + +LORD GORING. [_Slowly_.] Yes; most men would call it ugly names. There +is no doubt of that. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Bitterly_.] Men who every day do something of +the same kind themselves. Men who, each one of them, have worse secrets +in their own lives. + +LORD GORING. That is the reason they are so pleased to find out other +people’s secrets. It distracts public attention from their own. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And, after all, whom did I wrong by what I did? No +one. + +LORD GORING. [_Looking at him steadily_.] Except yourself, Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_After a pause_.] Of course I had private +information about a certain transaction contemplated by the Government of +the day, and I acted on it. Private information is practically the +source of every large modern fortune. + +LORD GORING. [_Tapping his boot with his cane_.] And public scandal +invariably the result. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Pacing up and down the room_.] Arthur, do you +think that what I did nearly eighteen years ago should be brought up +against me now? Do you think it fair that a man’s whole career should be +ruined for a fault done in one’s boyhood almost? I was twenty-two at the +time, and I had the double misfortune of being well-born and poor, two +unforgiveable things nowadays. Is it fair that the folly, the sin of +one’s youth, if men choose to call it a sin, should wreck a life like +mine, should place me in the pillory, should shatter all that I have +worked for, all that I have built up. Is it fair, Arthur? + +LORD GORING. Life is never fair, Robert. And perhaps it is a good thing +for most of us that it is not. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Every man of ambition has to fight his century with +its own weapons. What this century worships is wealth. The God of this +century is wealth. To succeed one must have wealth. At all costs one +must have wealth. + +LORD GORING. You underrate yourself, Robert. Believe me, without wealth +you could have succeeded just as well. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. When I was old, perhaps. When I had lost my +passion for power, or could not use it. When I was tired, worn out, +disappointed. I wanted my success when I was young. Youth is the time +for success. I couldn’t wait. + +LORD GORING. Well, you certainly have had your success while you are +still young. No one in our day has had such a brilliant success. +Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs at the age of forty—that’s good +enough for any one, I should think. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And if it is all taken away from me now? If I lose +everything over a horrible scandal? If I am hounded from public life? + +LORD GORING. Robert, how could you have sold yourself for money? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Excitedly_.] I did not sell myself for money. I +bought success at a great price. That is all. + +LORD GORING. [_Gravely_.] Yes; you certainly paid a great price for it. +But what first made you think of doing such a thing? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Baron Arnheim. + +LORD GORING. Damned scoundrel! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. No; he was a man of a most subtle and refined +intellect. A man of culture, charm, and distinction. One of the most +intellectual men I ever met. + +LORD GORING. Ah! I prefer a gentlemanly fool any day. There is more to +be said for stupidity than people imagine. Personally I have a great +admiration for stupidity. It is a sort of fellow-feeling, I suppose. +But how did he do it? Tell me the whole thing. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Throws himself into an armchair by the +writing-table_.] One night after dinner at Lord Radley’s the Baron began +talking about success in modern life as something that one could reduce +to an absolutely definite science. With that wonderfully fascinating +quiet voice of his he expounded to us the most terrible of all +philosophies, the philosophy of power, preached to us the most marvellous +of all gospels, the gospel of gold. I think he saw the effect he had +produced on me, for some days afterwards he wrote and asked me to come +and see him. He was living then in Park Lane, in the house Lord Woolcomb +has now. I remember so well how, with a strange smile on his pale, +curved lips, he led me through his wonderful picture gallery, showed me +his tapestries, his enamels, his jewels, his carved ivories, made me +wonder at the strange loveliness of the luxury in which he lived; and +then told me that luxury was nothing but a background, a painted scene in +a play, and that power, power over other men, power over the world, was +the one thing worth having, the one supreme pleasure worth knowing, the +one joy one never tired of, and that in our century only the rich +possessed it. + +LORD GORING. [_With great deliberation_.] A thoroughly shallow creed. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rising_.] I didn’t think so then. I don’t think +so now. Wealth has given me enormous power. It gave me at the very +outset of my life freedom, and freedom is everything. You have never +been poor, and never known what ambition is. You cannot understand what +a wonderful chance the Baron gave me. Such a chance as few men get. + +LORD GORING. Fortunately for them, if one is to judge by results. But +tell me definitely, how did the Baron finally persuade you to—well, to do +what you did? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. When I was going away he said to me that if I ever +could give him any private information of real value he would make me a +very rich man. I was dazed at the prospect he held out to me, and my +ambition and my desire for power were at that time boundless. Six weeks +later certain private documents passed through my hands. + +LORD GORING. [_Keeping his eyes steadily fixed on the carpet_.] State +documents? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes. [LORD GORING _sighs_, _then passes his hand +across his forehead and looks up_.] + +LORD GORING. I had no idea that you, of all men in the world, could have +been so weak, Robert, as to yield to such a temptation as Baron Arnheim +held out to you. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Weak? Oh, I am sick of hearing that phrase. Sick +of using it about others. Weak? Do you really think, Arthur, that it is +weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible +temptations that it requires strength, strength and courage, to yield to. +To stake all one’s life on a single moment, to risk everything on one +throw, whether the stake be power or pleasure, I care not—there is no +weakness in that. There is a horrible, a terrible courage. I had that +courage. I sat down the same afternoon and wrote Baron Arnheim the +letter this woman now holds. He made three-quarters of a million over +the transaction. + +LORD GORING. And you? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I received from the Baron £110,000. + +LORD GORING. You were worth more, Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. No; that money gave me exactly what I wanted, power +over others. I went into the House immediately. The Baron advised me in +finance from time to time. Before five years I had almost trebled my +fortune. Since then everything that I have touched has turned out a +success. In all things connected with money I have had a luck so +extraordinary that sometimes it has made me almost afraid. I remember +having read somewhere, in some strange book, that when the gods wish to +punish us they answer our prayers. + +LORD GORING. But tell me, Robert, did you never suffer any regret for +what you had done? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. No. I felt that I had fought the century with its +own weapons, and won. + +LORD GORING. [_Sadly_.] You thought you had won. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I thought so. [_After a long pause_.] Arthur, do +you despise me for what I have told you? + +LORD GORING. [_With deep feeling in his voice_.] I am very sorry for +you, Robert, very sorry indeed. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I don’t say that I suffered any remorse. I didn’t. +Not remorse in the ordinary, rather silly sense of the word. But I have +paid conscience money many times. I had a wild hope that I might disarm +destiny. The sum Baron Arnheim gave me I have distributed twice over in +public charities since then. + +LORD GORING. [_Looking up_.] In public charities? Dear me! what a lot +of harm you must have done, Robert! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh, don’t say that, Arthur; don’t talk like that! + +LORD GORING. Never mind what I say, Robert! I am always saying what I +shouldn’t say. In fact, I usually say what I really think. A great +mistake nowadays. It makes one so liable to be misunderstood. As +regards this dreadful business, I will help you in whatever way I can. +Of course you know that. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thank you, Arthur, thank you. But what is to be +done? What can be done? + +LORD GORING. [_Leaning back with his hands in his pockets_.] Well, the +English can’t stand a man who is always saying he is in the right, but +they are very fond of a man who admits that he has been in the wrong. It +is one of the best things in them. However, in your case, Robert, a +confession would not do. The money, if you will allow me to say so, is +. . . awkward. Besides, if you did make a clean breast of the whole +affair, you would never be able to talk morality again. And in England a +man who can’t talk morality twice a week to a large, popular, immoral +audience is quite over as a serious politician. There would be nothing +left for him as a profession except Botany or the Church. A confession +would be of no use. It would ruin you. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It would ruin me. Arthur, the only thing for me to +do now is to fight the thing out. + +LORD GORING. [_Rising from his chair_.] I was waiting for you to say +that, Robert. It is the only thing to do now. And you must begin by +telling your wife the whole story. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. That I will not do. + +LORD GORING. Robert, believe me, you are wrong. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I couldn’t do it. It would kill her love for me. +And now about this woman, this Mrs. Cheveley. How can I defend myself +against her? You knew her before, Arthur, apparently. + +LORD GORING. Yes. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Did you know her well? + +LORD GORING. [_Arranging his necktie_.] So little that I got engaged to +be married to her once, when I was staying at the Tenbys’. The affair +lasted for three days . . . nearly. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Why was it broken off? + +LORD GORING. [_Airily_.] Oh, I forget. At least, it makes no matter. +By the way, have you tried her with money? She used to be confoundedly +fond of money. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I offered her any sum she wanted. She refused. + +LORD GORING. Then the marvellous gospel of gold breaks down sometimes. +The rich can’t do everything, after all. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Not everything. I suppose you are right. Arthur, +I feel that public disgrace is in store for me. I feel certain of it. I +never knew what terror was before. I know it now. It is as if a hand of +ice were laid upon one’s heart. It is as if one’s heart were beating +itself to death in some empty hollow. + +LORD GORING. [_Striking the table_.] Robert, you must fight her. You +must fight her. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But how? + +LORD GORING. I can’t tell you how at present. I have not the smallest +idea. But every one has some weak point. There is some flaw in each one +of us. [_Strolls to the fireplace and looks at himself in the glass_.] +My father tells me that even I have faults. Perhaps I have. I don’t +know. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. In defending myself against Mrs. Cheveley, I have a +right to use any weapon I can find, have I not? + +LORD GORING. [_Still looking in the glass_.] In your place I don’t +think I should have the smallest scruple in doing so. She is thoroughly +well able to take care of herself. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Sits down at the table and takes a pen in his +hand_.] Well, I shall send a cipher telegram to the Embassy at Vienna, +to inquire if there is anything known against her. There may be some +secret scandal she might be afraid of. + +LORD GORING. [_Settling his buttonhole_.] Oh, I should fancy Mrs. +Cheveley is one of those very modern women of our time who find a new +scandal as becoming as a new bonnet, and air them both in the Park every +afternoon at five-thirty. I am sure she adores scandals, and that the +sorrow of her life at present is that she can’t manage to have enough of +them. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Writing_.] Why do you say that? + +LORD GORING. [_Turning round_.] Well, she wore far too much rouge last +night, and not quite enough clothes. That is always a sign of despair in +a woman. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Striking a bell_.] But it is worth while my +wiring to Vienna, is it not? + +LORD GORING. It is always worth while asking a question, though it is +not always worth while answering one. + +[_Enter_ MASON.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Is Mr. Trafford in his room? + +MASON. Yes, Sir Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Puts what he has written into an envelope_, +_which he then carefully closes_.] Tell him to have this sent off in +cipher at once. There must not be a moment’s delay. + +MASON. Yes, Sir Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh! just give that back to me again. + +[_Writes something on the envelope_. MASON _then goes out with the +letter_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. She must have had some curious hold over Baron +Arnheim. I wonder what it was. + +LORD GORING. [_Smiling_.] I wonder. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I will fight her to the death, as long as my wife +knows nothing. + +LORD GORING. [_Strongly_.] Oh, fight in any case—in any case. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_With a gesture of despair_.] If my wife found +out, there would be little left to fight for. Well, as soon as I hear +from Vienna, I shall let you know the result. It is a chance, just a +chance, but I believe in it. And as I fought the age with its own +weapons, I will fight her with her weapons. It is only fair, and she +looks like a woman with a past, doesn’t she? + +LORD GORING. Most pretty women do. But there is a fashion in pasts just +as there is a fashion in frocks. Perhaps Mrs. Cheveley’s past is merely +a slightly décolleté one, and they are excessively popular nowadays. +Besides, my dear Robert, I should not build too high hopes on frightening +Mrs. Cheveley. I should not fancy Mrs. Cheveley is a woman who would be +easily frightened. She has survived all her creditors, and she shows +wonderful presence of mind. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh! I live on hopes now. I clutch at every chance. +I feel like a man on a ship that is sinking. The water is round my feet, +and the very air is bitter with storm. Hush! I hear my wife’s voice. + +[_Enter_ LADY CHILTERN _in walking dress_.] + +LADY CHILTERN. Good afternoon, Lord Goring! + +LORD GORING. Good afternoon, Lady Chiltern! Have you been in the Park? + +LADY CHILTERN. No; I have just come from the Woman’s Liberal +Association, where, by the way, Robert, your name was received with loud +applause, and now I have come in to have my tea. [_To_ LORD GORING.] +You will wait and have some tea, won’t you? + +LORD GORING. I’ll wait for a short time, thanks. + +LADY CHILTERN. I will be back in a moment. I am only going to take my +hat off. + +LORD GORING. [_In his most earnest manner_.] Oh! please don’t. It is +so pretty. One of the prettiest hats I ever saw. I hope the Woman’s +Liberal Association received it with loud applause. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_With a smile_.] We have much more important work to do +than look at each other’s bonnets, Lord Goring. + +LORD GORING. Really? What sort of work? + +LADY CHILTERN. Oh! dull, useful, delightful things, Factory Acts, Female +Inspectors, the Eight Hours’ Bill, the Parliamentary Franchise. . . . +Everything, in fact, that you would find thoroughly uninteresting. + +LORD GORING. And never bonnets? + +LADY CHILTERN. [_With mock indignation_.] Never bonnets, never! + +[LADY CHILTERN _goes out through the door leading to her boudoir_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Takes_ LORD GORING’S _hand_.] You have been a +good friend to me, Arthur, a thoroughly good friend. + +LORD GORING. I don’t know that I have been able to do much for you, +Robert, as yet. In fact, I have not been able to do anything for you, as +far as I can see. I am thoroughly disappointed with myself. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You have enabled me to tell you the truth. That is +something. The truth has always stifled me. + +LORD GORING. Ah! the truth is a thing I get rid of as soon as possible! +Bad habit, by the way. Makes one very unpopular at the club . . . with +the older members. They call it being conceited. Perhaps it is. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I would to God that I had been able to tell the +truth . . . to live the truth. Ah! that is the great thing in life, to +live the truth. [_Sighs_, _and goes towards the door_.] I’ll see you +soon again, Arthur, shan’t I? + +LORD GORING. Certainly. Whenever you like. I’m going to look in at the +Bachelors’ Ball to-night, unless I find something better to do. But I’ll +come round to-morrow morning. If you should want me to-night by any +chance, send round a note to Curzon Street. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thank you. + +[_As he reaches the door_, LADY CHILTERN _enters from her boudoir_.] + +LADY CHILTERN. You are not going, Robert? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I have some letters to write, dear. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Going to him_.] You work too hard, Robert. You seem +never to think of yourself, and you are looking so tired. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It is nothing, dear, nothing. + +[_He kisses her and goes out_.] + +LADY CHILTERN. [_To_ LORD GORING.] Do sit down. I am so glad you have +called. I want to talk to you about . . . well, not about bonnets, or +the Woman’s Liberal Association. You take far too much interest in the +first subject, and not nearly enough in the second. + +LORD GORING. You want to talk to me about Mrs. Cheveley? + +LADY CHILTERN. Yes. You have guessed it. After you left last night I +found out that what she had said was really true. Of course I made +Robert write her a letter at once, withdrawing his promise. + +LORD GORING. So he gave me to understand. + +LADY CHILTERN. To have kept it would have been the first stain on a +career that has been stainless always. Robert must be above reproach. +He is not like other men. He cannot afford to do what other men do. +[_She looks at_ LORD GORING, _who remains silent_.] Don’t you agree with +me? You are Robert’s greatest friend. You are our greatest friend, Lord +Goring. No one, except myself, knows Robert better than you do. He has +no secrets from me, and I don’t think he has any from you. + +LORD GORING. He certainly has no secrets from me. At least I don’t +think so. + +LADY CHILTERN. Then am I not right in my estimate of him? I know I am +right. But speak to me frankly. + +LORD GORING. [_Looking straight at her_.] Quite frankly? + +LADY CHILTERN. Surely. You have nothing to conceal, have you? + +LORD GORING. Nothing. But, my dear Lady Chiltern, I think, if you will +allow me to say so, that in practical life— + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Smiling_.] Of which you know so little, Lord Goring— + +LORD GORING. Of which I know nothing by experience, though I know +something by observation. I think that in practical life there is +something about success, actual success, that is a little unscrupulous, +something about ambition that is unscrupulous always. Once a man has set +his heart and soul on getting to a certain point, if he has to climb the +crag, he climbs the crag; if he has to walk in the mire— + +LADY CHILTERN. Well? + +LORD GORING. He walks in the mire. Of course I am only talking +generally about life. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Gravely_.] I hope so. Why do you look at me so +strangely, Lord Goring? + +LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern, I have sometimes thought that . . . perhaps +you are a little hard in some of your views on life. I think that . . . +often you don’t make sufficient allowances. In every nature there are +elements of weakness, or worse than weakness. Supposing, for instance, +that—that any public man, my father, or Lord Merton, or Robert, say, had, +years ago, written some foolish letter to some one . . . + +LADY CHILTERN. What do you mean by a foolish letter? + +LORD GORING. A letter gravely compromising one’s position. I am only +putting an imaginary case. + +LADY CHILTERN. Robert is as incapable of doing a foolish thing as he is +of doing a wrong thing. + +LORD GORING. [_After a long pause_.] Nobody is incapable of doing a +foolish thing. Nobody is incapable of doing a wrong thing. + +LADY CHILTERN. Are you a Pessimist? What will the other dandies say? +They will all have to go into mourning. + +LORD GORING. [_Rising_.] No, Lady Chiltern, I am not a Pessimist. +Indeed I am not sure that I quite know what Pessimism really means. All +I do know is that life cannot be understood without much charity, cannot +be lived without much charity. It is love, and not German philosophy, +that is the true explanation of this world, whatever may be the +explanation of the next. And if you are ever in trouble, Lady Chiltern, +trust me absolutely, and I will help you in every way I can. If you ever +want me, come to me for my assistance, and you shall have it. Come at +once to me. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Looking at him in surprise_.] Lord Goring, you are +talking quite seriously. I don’t think I ever heard you talk seriously +before. + +LORD GORING. [_Laughing_.] You must excuse me, Lady Chiltern. It won’t +occur again, if I can help it. + +LADY CHILTERN. But I like you to be serious. + +[_Enter_ MABEL CHILTERN, _in the most ravishing frock_.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. Dear Gertrude, don’t say such a dreadful thing to Lord +Goring. Seriousness would be very unbecoming to him. Good afternoon +Lord Goring! Pray be as trivial as you can. + +LORD GORING. I should like to, Miss Mabel, but I am afraid I am . . . a +little out of practice this morning; and besides, I have to be going now. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Just when I have come in! What dreadful manners you +have! I am sure you were very badly brought up. + +LORD GORING. I was. + +MABEL CHILTERN. I wish I had brought you up! + +LORD GORING. I am so sorry you didn’t. + +MABEL CHILTERN. It is too late now, I suppose? + +LORD GORING. [_Smiling_.] I am not so sure. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Will you ride to-morrow morning? + +LORD GORING. Yes, at ten. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Don’t forget. + +LORD GORING. Of course I shan’t. By the way, Lady Chiltern, there is no +list of your guests in _The Morning Post_ of to-day. It has apparently +been crowded out by the County Council, or the Lambeth Conference, or +something equally boring. Could you let me have a list? I have a +particular reason for asking you. + +LADY CHILTERN. I am sure Mr. Trafford will be able to give you one. + +LORD GORING. Thanks, so much. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Tommy is the most useful person in London. + +LORD GORING [_Turning to her_.] And who is the most ornamental? + +MABEL CHILTERN [_Triumphantly_.] I am. + +LORD GORING. How clever of you to guess it! [_Takes up his hat and +cane_.] Good-bye, Lady Chiltern! You will remember what I said to you, +won’t you? + +LADY CHILTERN. Yes; but I don’t know why you said it to me. + +LORD GORING. I hardly know myself. Good-bye, Miss Mabel! + +MABEL CHILTERN [_With a little moue of disappointment_.] I wish you were +not going. I have had four wonderful adventures this morning; four and a +half, in fact. You might stop and listen to some of them. + +LORD GORING. How very selfish of you to have four and a half! There +won’t be any left for me. + +MABEL CHILTERN. I don’t want you to have any. They would not be good +for you. + +LORD GORING. That is the first unkind thing you have ever said to me. +How charmingly you said it! Ten to-morrow. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Sharp. + +LORD GORING. Quite sharp. But don’t bring Mr. Trafford. + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_With a little toss of the head_.] Of course I shan’t +bring Tommy Trafford. Tommy Trafford is in great disgrace. + +LORD GORING. I am delighted to hear it. [_Bows and goes out_.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. Gertrude, I wish you would speak to Tommy Trafford. + +LADY CHILTERN. What has poor Mr. Trafford done this time? Robert says +he is the best secretary he has ever had. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Well, Tommy has proposed to me again. Tommy really does +nothing but propose to me. He proposed to me last night in the +music-room, when I was quite unprotected, as there was an elaborate trio +going on. I didn’t dare to make the smallest repartee, I need hardly +tell you. If I had, it would have stopped the music at once. Musical +people are so absurdly unreasonable. They always want one to be +perfectly dumb at the very moment when one is longing to be absolutely +deaf. Then he proposed to me in broad daylight this morning, in front of +that dreadful statue of Achilles. Really, the things that go on in front +of that work of art are quite appalling. The police should interfere. +At luncheon I saw by the glare in his eye that he was going to propose +again, and I just managed to check him in time by assuring him that I was +a bimetallist. Fortunately I don’t know what bimetallism means. And I +don’t believe anybody else does either. But the observation crushed +Tommy for ten minutes. He looked quite shocked. And then Tommy is so +annoying in the way he proposes. If he proposed at the top of his voice, +I should not mind so much. That might produce some effect on the public. +But he does it in a horrid confidential way. When Tommy wants to be +romantic he talks to one just like a doctor. I am very fond of Tommy, +but his methods of proposing are quite out of date. I wish, Gertrude, +you would speak to him, and tell him that once a week is quite often +enough to propose to any one, and that it should always be done in a +manner that attracts some attention. + +LADY CHILTERN. Dear Mabel, don’t talk like that. Besides, Robert thinks +very highly of Mr. Trafford. He believes he has a brilliant future +before him. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! I wouldn’t marry a man with a future before him for +anything under the sun. + +LADY CHILTERN. Mabel! + +MABEL CHILTERN. I know, dear. You married a man with a future, didn’t +you? But then Robert was a genius, and you have a noble, +self-sacrificing character. You can stand geniuses. I have no character +at all, and Robert is the only genius I could ever bear. As a rule, I +think they are quite impossible. Geniuses talk so much, don’t they? +Such a bad habit! And they are always thinking about themselves, when I +want them to be thinking about me. I must go round now and rehearse at +Lady Basildon’s. You remember, we are having tableaux, don’t you? The +Triumph of something, I don’t know what! I hope it will be triumph of +me. Only triumph I am really interested in at present. [_Kisses_ LADY +CHILTERN _and goes out_; _then comes running back_.] Oh, Gertrude, do +you know who is coming to see you? That dreadful Mrs. Cheveley, in a +most lovely gown. Did you ask her? + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Rising_.] Mrs. Cheveley! Coming to see me? +Impossible! + +MABEL CHILTERN. I assure you she is coming upstairs, as large as life +and not nearly so natural. + +LADY CHILTERN. You need not wait, Mabel. Remember, Lady Basildon is +expecting you. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! I must shake hands with Lady Markby. She is +delightful. I love being scolded by her. + +[_Enter_ MASON.] + +MASON. Lady Markby. Mrs. Cheveley. + +[_Enter_ LADY MARKBY _and_ MRS. CHEVELEY.] + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Advancing to meet them_.] Dear Lady Markby, how nice +of you to come and see me! [_Shakes hands with her_, _and bows somewhat +distantly to_ MRS. CHEVELEY.] Won’t you sit down, Mrs. Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. Isn’t that Miss Chiltern? I should like so much +to know her. + +LADY CHILTERN. Mabel, Mrs. Cheveley wishes to know you. + +[MABEL CHILTERN _gives a little nod_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_Sitting down_.] I thought your frock so charming last +night, Miss Chiltern. So simple and . . . suitable. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Really? I must tell my dressmaker. It will be such a +surprise to her. Good-bye, Lady Markby! + +LADY MARKBY. Going already? + +MABEL CHILTERN. I am so sorry but I am obliged to. I am just off to +rehearsal. I have got to stand on my head in some tableaux. + +LADY MARKBY. On your head, child? Oh! I hope not. I believe it is most +unhealthy. [_Takes a seat on the sofa next_ LADY CHILTERN.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. But it is for an excellent charity: in aid of the +Undeserving, the only people I am really interested in. I am the +secretary, and Tommy Trafford is treasurer. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. And what is Lord Goring? + +MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! Lord Goring is president. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. The post should suit him admirably, unless he has +deteriorated since I knew him first. + +LADY MARKBY. [_Reflecting_.] You are remarkably modern, Mabel. A +little too modern, perhaps. Nothing is so dangerous as being too modern. +One is apt to grow old-fashioned quite suddenly. I have known many +instances of it. + +MABEL CHILTERN. What a dreadful prospect! + +LADY MARKBY. Ah! my dear, you need not be nervous. You will always be +as pretty as possible. That is the best fashion there is, and the only +fashion that England succeeds in setting. + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_With a curtsey_.] Thank you so much, Lady Markby, for +England . . . and myself. [_Goes out_.] + +LADY MARKBY. [_Turning to_ LADY CHILTERN.] Dear Gertrude, we just +called to know if Mrs. Cheveley’s diamond brooch has been found. + +LADY CHILTERN. Here? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. I missed it when I got back to Claridge’s, and I +thought I might possibly have dropped it here. + +LADY CHILTERN. I have heard nothing about it. But I will send for the +butler and ask. [_Touches the bell_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, pray don’t trouble, Lady Chiltern. I dare say I lost +it at the Opera, before we came on here. + +LADY MARKBY. Ah yes, I suppose it must have been at the Opera. The fact +is, we all scramble and jostle so much nowadays that I wonder we have +anything at all left on us at the end of an evening. I know myself that, +when I am coming back from the Drawing Room, I always feel as if I hadn’t +a shred on me, except a small shred of decent reputation, just enough to +prevent the lower classes making painful observations through the windows +of the carriage. The fact is that our Society is terribly +over-populated. Really, some one should arrange a proper scheme of +assisted emigration. It would do a great deal of good. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I quite agree with you, Lady Markby. It is nearly six +years since I have been in London for the Season, and I must say Society +has become dreadfully mixed. One sees the oddest people everywhere. + +LADY MARKBY. That is quite true, dear. But one needn’t know them. I’m +sure I don’t know half the people who come to my house. Indeed, from all +I hear, I shouldn’t like to. + +[_Enter_ MASON.] + +LADY CHILTERN. What sort of a brooch was it that you lost, Mrs. +Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. A diamond snake-brooch with a ruby, a rather large ruby. + +LADY MARKBY. I thought you said there was a sapphire on the head, dear? + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_Smiling_.] No, lady Markby—a ruby. + +LADY MARKBY. [_Nodding her head_.] And very becoming, I am quite sure. + +LADY CHILTERN. Has a ruby and diamond brooch been found in any of the +rooms this morning, Mason? + +MASON. No, my lady. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. It really is of no consequence, Lady Chiltern. I am so +sorry to have put you to any inconvenience. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Coldly_.] Oh, it has been no inconvenience. That will +do, Mason. You can bring tea. + +[_Exit_ MASON.] + +LADY MARKBY. Well, I must say it is most annoying to lose anything. I +remember once at Bath, years ago, losing in the Pump Room an exceedingly +handsome cameo bracelet that Sir John had given me. I don’t think he has +ever given me anything since, I am sorry to say. He has sadly +degenerated. Really, this horrid House of Commons quite ruins our +husbands for us. I think the Lower House by far the greatest blow to a +happy married life that there has been since that terrible thing called +the Higher Education of Women was invented. + +LADY CHILTERN. Ah! it is heresy to say that in this house, Lady Markby. +Robert is a great champion of the Higher Education of Women, and so, I am +afraid, am I. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. The higher education of men is what I should like to see. +Men need it so sadly. + +LADY MARKBY. They do, dear. But I am afraid such a scheme would be +quite unpractical. I don’t think man has much capacity for development. +He has got as far as he can, and that is not far, is it? With regard to +women, well, dear Gertrude, you belong to the younger generation, and I +am sure it is all right if you approve of it. In my time, of course, we +were taught not to understand anything. That was the old system, and +wonderfully interesting it was. I assure you that the amount of things I +and my poor dear sister were taught not to understand was quite +extraordinary. But modern women understand everything, I am told. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Except their husbands. That is the one thing the modern +woman never understands. + +LADY MARKBY. And a very good thing too, dear, I dare say. It might +break up many a happy home if they did. Not yours, I need hardly say, +Gertrude. You have married a pattern husband. I wish I could say as +much for myself. But since Sir John has taken to attending the debates +regularly, which he never used to do in the good old days, his language +has become quite impossible. He always seems to think that he is +addressing the House, and consequently whenever he discusses the state of +the agricultural labourer, or the Welsh Church, or something quite +improper of that kind, I am obliged to send all the servants out of the +room. It is not pleasant to see one’s own butler, who has been with one +for twenty-three years, actually blushing at the side-board, and the +footmen making contortions in corners like persons in circuses. I assure +you my life will be quite ruined unless they send John at once to the +Upper House. He won’t take any interest in politics then, will he? The +House of Lords is so sensible. An assembly of gentlemen. But in his +present state, Sir John is really a great trial. Why, this morning +before breakfast was half over, he stood up on the hearthrug, put his +hands in his pockets, and appealed to the country at the top of his +voice. I left the table as soon as I had my second cup of tea, I need +hardly say. But his violent language could be heard all over the house! +I trust, Gertrude, that Sir Robert is not like that? + +LADY CHILTERN. But I am very much interested in politics, Lady Markby. +I love to hear Robert talk about them. + +LADY MARKBY. Well, I hope he is not as devoted to Blue Books as Sir John +is. I don’t think they can be quite improving reading for any one. + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_Languidly_.] I have never read a Blue Book. I prefer +books . . . in yellow covers. + +LADY MARKBY. [_Genially unconscious_.] Yellow is a gayer colour, is it +not? I used to wear yellow a good deal in my early days, and would do so +now if Sir John was not so painfully personal in his observations, and a +man on the question of dress is always ridiculous, is he not? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, no! I think men are the only authorities on dress. + +LADY MARKBY. Really? One wouldn’t say so from the sort of hats they +wear? would one? + +[_The butler enters_, _followed by the footman_. _Tea is set on a small +table close to_ LADY CHILTERN.] + +LADY CHILTERN. May I give you some tea, Mrs. Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. [_The butler hands_ MRS. CHEVELEY _a cup of tea +on a salver_.] + +LADY CHILTERN. Some tea, Lady Markby? + +LADY MARKBY. No thanks, dear. [_The servants go out_.] The fact is, I +have promised to go round for ten minutes to see poor Lady Brancaster, +who is in very great trouble. Her daughter, quite a well-brought-up +girl, too, has actually become engaged to be married to a curate in +Shropshire. It is very sad, very sad indeed. I can’t understand this +modern mania for curates. In my time we girls saw them, of course, +running about the place like rabbits. But we never took any notice of +them, I need hardly say. But I am told that nowadays country society is +quite honeycombed with them. I think it most irreligious. And then the +eldest son has quarrelled with his father, and it is said that when they +meet at the club Lord Brancaster always hides himself behind the money +article in _The Times_. However, I believe that is quite a common +occurrence nowadays and that they have to take in extra copies of _The +Times_ at all the clubs in St. James’s Street; there are so many sons who +won’t have anything to do with their fathers, and so many fathers who +won’t speak to their sons. I think myself, it is very much to be +regretted. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. So do I. Fathers have so much to learn from their sons +nowadays. + +LADY MARKBY. Really, dear? What? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. The art of living. The only really Fine Art we have +produced in modern times. + +LADY MARKBY. [_Shaking her head_.] Ah! I am afraid Lord Brancaster +knew a good deal about that. More than his poor wife ever did. +[_Turning to_ LADY CHILTERN.] You know Lady Brancaster, don’t you, dear? + +LADY CHILTERN. Just slightly. She was staying at Langton last autumn, +when we were there. + +LADY MARKBY. Well, like all stout women, she looks the very picture of +happiness, as no doubt you noticed. But there are many tragedies in her +family, besides this affair of the curate. Her own sister, Mrs. Jekyll, +had a most unhappy life; through no fault of her own, I am sorry to say. +She ultimately was so broken-hearted that she went into a convent, or on +to the operatic stage, I forget which. No; I think it was decorative +art-needlework she took up. I know she had lost all sense of pleasure in +life. [_Rising_.] And now, Gertrude, if you will allow me, I shall +leave Mrs. Cheveley in your charge and call back for her in a quarter of +an hour. Or perhaps, dear Mrs. Cheveley, you wouldn’t mind waiting in +the carriage while I am with Lady Brancaster. As I intend it to be a +visit of condolence, I shan’t stay long. + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_Rising_.] I don’t mind waiting in the carriage at all, +provided there is somebody to look at one. + +LADY MARKBY. Well, I hear the curate is always prowling about the house. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I am afraid I am not fond of girl friends. + +LADY CHILTERN [_Rising_.] Oh, I hope Mrs. Cheveley will stay here a +little. I should like to have a few minutes’ conversation with her. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. How very kind of you, Lady Chiltern! Believe me, nothing +would give me greater pleasure. + +LADY MARKBY. Ah! no doubt you both have many pleasant reminiscences of +your schooldays to talk over together. Good-bye, dear Gertrude! Shall I +see you at Lady Bonar’s to-night? She has discovered a wonderful new +genius. He does . . . nothing at all, I believe. That is a great +comfort, is it not? + +LADY CHILTERN. Robert and I are dining at home by ourselves to-night, +and I don’t think I shall go anywhere afterwards. Robert, of course, +will have to be in the House. But there is nothing interesting on. + +LADY MARKBY. Dining at home by yourselves? Is that quite prudent? Ah, +I forgot, your husband is an exception. Mine is the general rule, and +nothing ages a woman so rapidly as having married the general rule. +[_Exit_ LADY MARKBY.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Wonderful woman, Lady Markby, isn’t she? Talks more and +says less than anybody I ever met. She is made to be a public speaker. +Much more so than her husband, though he is a typical Englishman, always +dull and usually violent. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Makes no answer_, _but remains standing_. _There is a +pause_. _Then the eyes of the two women meet_. LADY CHILTERN _looks +stern and pale_. MRS. CHEVELEY _seem rather amused_.] Mrs. Cheveley, I +think it is right to tell you quite frankly that, had I known who you +really were, I should not have invited you to my house last night. + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_With an impertinent smile_.] Really? + +LADY CHILTERN. I could not have done so. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I see that after all these years you have not changed a +bit, Gertrude. + +LADY CHILTERN. I never change. + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_Elevating her eyebrows_.] Then life has taught you +nothing? + +LADY CHILTERN. It has taught me that a person who has once been guilty +of a dishonest and dishonourable action may be guilty of it a second +time, and should be shunned. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Would you apply that rule to every one? + +LADY CHILTERN. Yes, to every one, without exception. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Then I am sorry for you, Gertrude, very sorry for you. + +LADY CHILTERN. You see now, I was sure, that for many reasons any +further acquaintance between us during your stay in London is quite +impossible? + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_Leaning back in her chair_.] Do you know, Gertrude, I +don’t mind your talking morality a bit. Morality is simply the attitude +we adopt towards people whom we personally dislike. You dislike me. I +am quite aware of that. And I have always detested you. And yet I have +come here to do you a service. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Contemptuously_.] Like the service you wished to +render my husband last night, I suppose. Thank heaven, I saved him from +that. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Starting to her feet_.] It was you who made him write +that insolent letter to me? It was you who made him break his promise? + +LADY CHILTERN. Yes. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Then you must make him keep it. I give you till +to-morrow morning—no more. If by that time your husband does not +solemnly bind himself to help me in this great scheme in which I am +interested— + +LADY CHILTERN. This fraudulent speculation— + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Call it what you choose. I hold your husband in the +hollow of my hand, and if you are wise you will make him do what I tell +him. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Rising and going towards her_.] You are impertinent. +What has my husband to do with you? With a woman like you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_With a bitter laugh_.] In this world like meets with +like. It is because your husband is himself fraudulent and dishonest +that we pair so well together. Between you and him there are chasms. He +and I are closer than friends. We are enemies linked together. The same +sin binds us. + +LADY CHILTERN. How dare you class my husband with yourself? How dare +you threaten him or me? Leave my house. You are unfit to enter it. + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _enters from behind_. _He hears his wife’s last +words_, _and sees to whom they are addressed_. _He grows deadly pale_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Your house! A house bought with the price of dishonour. +A house, everything in which has been paid for by fraud. [_Turns round +and sees_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] Ask him what the origin of his fortune +is! Get him to tell you how he sold to a stockbroker a Cabinet secret. +Learn from him to what you owe your position. + +LADY CHILTERN. It is not true! Robert! It is not true! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Pointing at him with outstretched finger_.] Look at +him! Can he deny it? Does he dare to? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Go! Go at once. You have done your worst now. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. My worst? I have not yet finished with you, with either +of you. I give you both till to-morrow at noon. If by then you don’t do +what I bid you to do, the whole world shall know the origin of Robert +Chiltern. + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _strikes the bell_. _Enter_ MASON.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Show Mrs. Cheveley out. + +[MRS. CHEVELEY _starts_; _then bows with somewhat exaggerated politeness +to_ LADY CHILTERN, _who makes no sign of response_. _As she passes by_ +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN, _who is standing close to the door_, _she pauses for +a moment and looks him straight in the face_. _She then goes out_, +_followed by the servant_, _who closes the door after him_. _The husband +and wife are left alone_. LADY CHILTERN _stands like some one in a +dreadful dream_. _Then she turns round and looks at her husband_. _She +looks at him with strange eyes_, _as though she were seeing him for the +first time_.] + +LADY CHILTERN. You sold a Cabinet secret for money! You began your life +with fraud! You built up your career on dishonour! Oh, tell me it is +not true! Lie to me! Lie to me! Tell me it is not true! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What this woman said is quite true. But, Gertrude, +listen to me. You don’t realise how I was tempted. Let me tell you the +whole thing. [_Goes towards her_.] + +LADY CHILTERN. Don’t come near me. Don’t touch me. I feel as if you +had soiled me for ever. Oh! what a mask you have been wearing all these +years! A horrible painted mask! You sold yourself for money. Oh! a +common thief were better. You put yourself up to sale to the highest +bidder! You were bought in the market. You lied to the whole world. +And yet you will not lie to me. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rushing towards her_.] Gertrude! Gertrude! + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Thrusting him back with outstretched hands_.] No, +don’t speak! Say nothing! Your voice wakes terrible memories—memories +of things that made me love you—memories of words that made me love +you—memories that now are horrible to me. And how I worshipped you! You +were to me something apart from common life, a thing pure, noble, honest, +without stain. The world seemed to me finer because you were in it, and +goodness more real because you lived. And now—oh, when I think that I +made of a man like you my ideal! the ideal of my life! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. There was your mistake. There was your error. The +error all women commit. Why can’t you women love us, faults and all? +Why do you place us on monstrous pedestals? We have all feet of clay, +women as well as men; but when we men love women, we love them knowing +their weaknesses, their follies, their imperfections, love them all the +more, it may be, for that reason. It is not the perfect, but the +imperfect, who have need of love. It is when we are wounded by our own +hands, or by the hands of others, that love should come to cure us—else +what use is love at all? All sins, except a sin against itself, Love +should forgive. All lives, save loveless lives, true Love should pardon. +A man’s love is like that. It is wider, larger, more human than a +woman’s. Women think that they are making ideals of men. What they are +making of us are false idols merely. You made your false idol of me, and +I had not the courage to come down, show you my wounds, tell you my +weaknesses. I was afraid that I might lose your love, as I have lost it +now. And so, last night you ruined my life for me—yes, ruined it! What +this woman asked of me was nothing compared to what she offered to me. +She offered security, peace, stability. The sin of my youth, that I had +thought was buried, rose up in front of me, hideous, horrible, with its +hands at my throat. I could have killed it for ever, sent it back into +its tomb, destroyed its record, burned the one witness against me. You +prevented me. No one but you, you know it. And now what is there before +me but public disgrace, ruin, terrible shame, the mockery of the world, a +lonely dishonoured life, a lonely dishonoured death, it may be, some day? +Let women make no more ideals of men! let them not put them on altars and +bow before them, or they may ruin other lives as completely as you—you +whom I have so wildly loved—have ruined mine! + +[_He passes from the room_. LADY CHILTERN _rushes towards him_, _but the +door is closed when she reaches it_. _Pale with anguish_, _bewildered_, +_helpless_, _she sways like a plant in the water_. _Her hands_, +_outstretched_, _seem to tremble in the air like blossoms in the wind_. +_Then she flings herself down beside a sofa and buries her face_. _Her +sobs are like the sobs of a child_.] + + ACT DROP. + + + + +THIRD ACT + + +SCENE + + +_The Library in Lord Goring’s house_. _An Adam room_. _On the right is +the door leading into the hall_. _On the left_, _the door of the +smoking-room_. _A pair of folding doors at the back open into the +drawing-room_. _The fire is lit_. _Phipps_, _the butler_, _is arranging +some newspapers on the writing-table_. _The distinction of Phipps is his +impassivity_. _He has been termed by enthusiasts the Ideal Butler_. _The +Sphinx is not so incommunicable_. _He is a mask with a manner_. _Of his +intellectual or emotional life_, _history knows nothing_. _He represents +the dominance of form_. + +[_Enter_ LORD GORING _in evening dress with a buttonhole_. _He is +wearing a silk hat and Inverness cape_. _White-gloved_, _he carries a +Louis Seize cane_. _His are all the delicate fopperies of Fashion_. +_One sees that he stands in immediate relation to modern life_, _makes it +indeed_, _and so masters it_. _He is the first well-dressed philosopher +in the history of thought_.] + +LORD GORING. Got my second buttonhole for me, Phipps? + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. [_Takes his hat_, _cane_, _and cape_, _and +presents new buttonhole on salver_.] + +LORD GORING. Rather distinguished thing, Phipps. I am the only person +of the smallest importance in London at present who wears a buttonhole. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. I have observed that. + +LORD GORING. [_Taking out old buttonhole_.] You see, Phipps, Fashion is +what one wears oneself. What is unfashionable is what other people wear. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. Just as vulgarity is simply the conduct of other people. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. [_Putting in a new buttonhole_.] And falsehoods the truths +of other people. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. Other people are quite dreadful. The only possible society +is oneself. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance, +Phipps. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. [_Looking at himself in the glass_.] Don’t think I quite +like this buttonhole, Phipps. Makes me look a little too old. Makes me +almost in the prime of life, eh, Phipps? + +PHIPPS. I don’t observe any alteration in your lordship’s appearance. + +LORD GORING. You don’t, Phipps? + +PHIPPS. No, my lord. + +LORD GORING. I am not quite sure. For the future a more trivial +buttonhole, Phipps, on Thursday evenings. + +PHIPPS. I will speak to the florist, my lord. She has had a loss in her +family lately, which perhaps accounts for the lack of triviality your +lordship complains of in the buttonhole. + +LORD GORING. Extraordinary thing about the lower classes in England—they +are always losing their relations. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord! They are extremely fortunate in that respect. + +LORD GORING. [_Turns round and looks at him_. PHIPPS _remains +impassive_.] Hum! Any letters, Phipps? + +PHIPPS. Three, my lord. [_Hands letters on a salver_.] + +LORD GORING. [_Takes letters_.] Want my cab round in twenty minutes. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. [_Goes towards door_.] + +LORD GORING. [_Holds up letter in pink envelope_.] Ahem! Phipps, when +did this letter arrive? + +PHIPPS. It was brought by hand just after your lordship went to the +club. + +LORD GORING. That will do. [_Exit_ PHIPPS.] Lady Chiltern’s +handwriting on Lady Chiltern’s pink notepaper. That is rather curious. +I thought Robert was to write. Wonder what Lady Chiltern has got to say +to me? [_Sits at bureau and opens letter_, _and reads it_.] ‘I want +you. I trust you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.’ [_Puts down the +letter with a puzzled look_. _Then takes it up_, _and reads it again +slowly_.] ‘I want you. I trust you. I am coming to you.’ So she has +found out everything! Poor woman! Poor woman! [ _Pulls out watch and +looks at it_.] But what an hour to call! Ten o’clock! I shall have to +give up going to the Berkshires. However, it is always nice to be +expected, and not to arrive. I am not expected at the Bachelors’, so I +shall certainly go there. Well, I will make her stand by her husband. +That is the only thing for her to do. That is the only thing for any +woman to do. It is the growth of the moral sense in women that makes +marriage such a hopeless, one-sided institution. Ten o’clock. She +should be here soon. I must tell Phipps I am not in to any one else. +[_Goes towards bell_.] + +[_Enter_ PHIPPS.] + +PHIPPS. Lord Caversham. + +LORD GORING. Oh, why will parents always appear at the wrong time? Some +extraordinary mistake in nature, I suppose. [_Enter_ LORD CAVERSHAM.] +Delighted to see you, my dear father. [_Goes to meet him_.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Take my cloak off. + +LORD GORING. Is it worth while, father? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Of course it is worth while, sir. Which is the most +comfortable chair? + +LORD GORING. This one, father. It is the chair I use myself, when I +have visitors. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Thank ye. No draught, I hope, in this room? + +LORD GORING. No, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Sitting down_.] Glad to hear it. Can’t stand +draughts. No draughts at home. + +LORD GORING. Good many breezes, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Eh? Eh? Don’t understand what you mean. Want to have +a serious conversation with you, sir. + +LORD GORING. My dear father! At this hour? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, it is only ten o’clock. What is your +objection to the hour? I think the hour is an admirable hour! + +LORD GORING. Well, the fact is, father, this is not my day for talking +seriously. I am very sorry, but it is not my day. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. What do you mean, sir? + +LORD GORING. During the Season, father, I only talk seriously on the +first Tuesday in every month, from four to seven. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, make it Tuesday, sir, make it Tuesday. + +LORD GORING. But it is after seven, father, and my doctor says I must +not have any serious conversation after seven. It makes me talk in my +sleep. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Talk in your sleep, sir? What does that matter? You +are not married. + +LORD GORING. No, father, I am not married. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Hum! That is what I have come to talk to you about, +sir. You have got to get married, and at once. Why, when I was your +age, sir, I had been an inconsolable widower for three months, and was +already paying my addresses to your admirable mother. Damme, sir, it is +your duty to get married. You can’t be always living for pleasure. +Every man of position is married nowadays. Bachelors are not fashionable +any more. They are a damaged lot. Too much is known about them. You +must get a wife, sir. Look where your friend Robert Chiltern has got to +by probity, hard work, and a sensible marriage with a good woman. Why +don’t you imitate him, sir? Why don’t you take him for your model? + +LORD GORING. I think I shall, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. I wish you would, sir. Then I should be happy. At +present I make your mother’s life miserable on your account. You are +heartless, sir, quite heartless. + +LORD GORING. I hope not, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. And it is high time for you to get married. You are +thirty-four years of age, sir. + +LORD GORING. Yes, father, but I only admit to thirty-two—thirty-one and +a half when I have a really good buttonhole. This buttonhole is not . . . +trivial enough. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. I tell you you are thirty-four, sir. And there is a +draught in your room, besides, which makes your conduct worse. Why did +you tell me there was no draught, sir? I feel a draught, sir, I feel it +distinctly. + +LORD GORING. So do I, father. It is a dreadful draught. I will come +and see you to-morrow, father. We can talk over anything you like. Let +me help you on with your cloak, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. No, sir; I have called this evening for a definite +purpose, and I am going to see it through at all costs to my health or +yours. Put down my cloak, sir. + +LORD GORING. Certainly, father. But let us go into another room. +[_Rings bell_.] There is a dreadful draught here. [_Enter_ PHIPPS.] +Phipps, is there a good fire in the smoking-room? + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. Come in there, father. Your sneezes are quite +heartrending. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, I suppose I have a right to sneeze when I +choose? + +LORD GORING. [_Apologetically_.] Quite so, father. I was merely +expressing sympathy. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Oh, damn sympathy. There is a great deal too much of +that sort of thing going on nowadays. + +LORD GORING. I quite agree with you, father. If there was less sympathy +in the world there would be less trouble in the world. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Going towards the smoking-room_.] That is a paradox, +sir. I hate paradoxes. + +LORD GORING. So do I, father. Everybody one meets is a paradox +nowadays. It is a great bore. It makes society so obvious. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Turning round_, _and looking at his son beneath his +bushy eyebrows_.] Do you always really understand what you say, sir? + +LORD GORING. [_After some hesitation_.] Yes, father, if I listen +attentively. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Indignantly_.] If you listen attentively! . . . +Conceited young puppy! + +[_Goes off grumbling into the smoking-room_. PHIPPS _enters_.] + +LORD GORING. Phipps, there is a lady coming to see me this evening on +particular business. Show her into the drawing-room when she arrives. +You understand? + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. It is a matter of the gravest importance, Phipps. + +PHIPPS. I understand, my lord. + +LORD GORING. No one else is to be admitted, under any circumstances. + +PHIPPS. I understand, my lord. [_Bell rings_.] + +LORD GORING. Ah! that is probably the lady. I shall see her myself. + +[_Just as he is going towards the door_ LORD CAVERSHAM _enters from the +smoking-room_.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir? am I to wait attendance on you? + +LORD GORING. [_Considerably perplexed_.] In a moment, father. Do +excuse me. [LORD CAVERSHAM _goes back_.] Well, remember my +instructions, Phipps—into that room. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +[LORD GORING _goes into the smoking-room_. HAROLD, _the footman shows_ +MRS. CHEVELEY _in_. _Lamia-like_, _she is in green and silver_. _She +has a cloak of black satin_, _lined with dead rose-leaf silk_.] + +HAROLD. What name, madam? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_To_ PHIPPS, _who advances towards her_.] Is Lord +Goring not here? I was told he was at home? + +PHIPPS. His lordship is engaged at present with Lord Caversham, madam. + +[_Turns a cold_, _glassy eye on_ HAROLD, _who at once retires_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_To herself_.] How very filial! + +PHIPPS. His lordship told me to ask you, madam, to be kind enough to +wait in the drawing-room for him. His lordship will come to you there. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a look of surprise_.] Lord Goring expects me? + +PHIPPS. Yes, madam. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Are you quite sure? + +PHIPPS. His lordship told me that if a lady called I was to ask her to +wait in the drawing-room. [_Goes to the door of the drawing-room and +opens it_.] His lordship’s directions on the subject were very precise. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_To herself_] How thoughtful of him! To expect the +unexpected shows a thoroughly modern intellect. [_Goes towards the +drawing-room and looks in_.] Ugh! How dreary a bachelor’s drawing-room +always looks. I shall have to alter all this. [PHIPPS _brings the lamp +from the writing-table_.] No, I don’t care for that lamp. It is far too +glaring. Light some candles. + +PHIPPS. [_Replaces lamp_.] Certainly, madam. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I hope the candles have very becoming shades. + +PHIPPS. We have had no complaints about them, madam, as yet. + +[_Passes into the drawing-room and begins to light the candles_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_To herself_.] I wonder what woman he is waiting for +to-night. It will be delightful to catch him. Men always look so silly +when they are caught. And they are always being caught. [_Looks about +room and approaches the writing-table_.] What a very interesting room! +What a very interesting picture! Wonder what his correspondence is like. +[_Takes up letters_.] Oh, what a very uninteresting correspondence! +Bills and cards, debts and dowagers! Who on earth writes to him on pink +paper? How silly to write on pink paper! It looks like the beginning of +a middle-class romance. Romance should never begin with sentiment. It +should begin with science and end with a settlement. [_Puts letter +down_, _then takes it up again_.] I know that handwriting. That is +Gertrude Chiltern’s. I remember it perfectly. The ten commandments in +every stroke of the pen, and the moral law all over the page. Wonder +what Gertrude is writing to him about? Something horrid about me, I +suppose. How I detest that woman! [_Reads it_.] ‘I trust you. I want +you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.’ ‘I trust you. I want you. I am +coming to you.’ + +[_A look of triumph comes over her face_. _She is just about to steal +the letter_, _when_ PHIPPS _comes in_.] + +PHIPPS. The candles in the drawing-room are lit, madam, as you directed. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. [_Rises hastily and slips the letter under a +large silver-cased blotting-book that is lying on the table_.] + +PHIPPS. I trust the shades will be to your liking, madam. They are the +most becoming we have. They are the same as his lordship uses himself +when he is dressing for dinner. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a smile_.] Then I am sure they will be perfectly +right. + +PHIPPS. [_Gravely_.] Thank you, madam. + +[MRS. CHEVELEY _goes into the drawing-room_. PHIPPS _closes the door and +retires_. _The door is then slowly opened_, _and_ MRS. CHEVELEY _comes +out and creeps stealthily towards the writing-table_. _Suddenly voices +are heard from the smoking-room_. MRS. CHEVELEY _grows pale_, _and +stops_. _The voices grow louder_, _and she goes back into the +drawing-room_, _biting her lip_.] + +[_Enter_ LORD GORING _and_ LORD CAVERSHAM.] + +LORD GORING. [_Expostulating_.] My dear father, if I am to get married, +surely you will allow me to choose the time, place, and person? +Particularly the person. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Testily_.] That is a matter for me, sir. You would +probably make a very poor choice. It is I who should be consulted, not +you. There is property at stake. It is not a matter for affection. +Affection comes later on in married life. + +LORD GORING. Yes. In married life affection comes when people +thoroughly dislike each other, father, doesn’t it? [_Puts on_ LORD +CAVERSHAM’S _cloak for him_.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Certainly, sir. I mean certainly not, sir. You are +talking very foolishly to-night. What I say is that marriage is a matter +for common sense. + +LORD GORING. But women who have common sense are so curiously plain, +father, aren’t they? Of course I only speak from hearsay. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. No woman, plain or pretty, has any common sense at all, +sir. Common sense is the privilege of our sex. + +LORD GORING. Quite so. And we men are so self-sacrificing that we never +use it, do we, father? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. I use it, sir. I use nothing else. + +LORD GORING. So my mother tells me. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. It is the secret of your mother’s happiness. You are +very heartless, sir, very heartless. + +LORD GORING. I hope not, father. + +[_Goes out for a moment_. _Then returns_, _looking rather put out_, +_with_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My dear Arthur, what a piece of good luck meeting +you on the doorstep! Your servant had just told me you were not at home. +How extraordinary! + +LORD GORING. The fact is, I am horribly busy to-night, Robert, and I +gave orders I was not at home to any one. Even my father had a +comparatively cold reception. He complained of a draught the whole time. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Ah! you must be at home to me, Arthur. You are my +best friend. Perhaps by to-morrow you will be my only friend. My wife +has discovered everything. + +LORD GORING. Ah! I guessed as much! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Looking at him_.] Really! How? + +LORD GORING. [_After some hesitation_.] Oh, merely by something in the +expression of your face as you came in. Who told her? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Mrs. Cheveley herself. And the woman I love knows +that I began my career with an act of low dishonesty, that I built up my +life upon sands of shame—that I sold, like a common huckster, the secret +that had been intrusted to me as a man of honour. I thank heaven poor +Lord Radley died without knowing that I betrayed him. I would to God I +had died before I had been so horribly tempted, or had fallen so low. +[_Burying his face in his hands_.] + +LORD GORING. [_After a pause_.] You have heard nothing from Vienna yet, +in answer to your wire? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Looking up_.] Yes; I got a telegram from the +first secretary at eight o’clock to-night. + +LORD GORING. Well? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Nothing is absolutely known against her. On the +contrary, she occupies a rather high position in society. It is a sort +of open secret that Baron Arnheim left her the greater portion of his +immense fortune. Beyond that I can learn nothing. + +LORD GORING. She doesn’t turn out to be a spy, then? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh! spies are of no use nowadays. Their profession +is over. The newspapers do their work instead. + +LORD GORING. And thunderingly well they do it. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur, I am parched with thirst. May I ring for +something? Some hock and seltzer? + +LORD GORING. Certainly. Let me. [_Rings the bell_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thanks! I don’t know what to do, Arthur, I don’t +know what to do, and you are my only friend. But what a friend you +are—the one friend I can trust. I can trust you absolutely, can’t I? + +[_Enter_ PHIPPS.] + +LORD GORING. My dear Robert, of course. Oh! [_To_ PHIPPS.] Bring some +hock and seltzer. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. And Phipps! + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. Will you excuse me for a moment, Robert? I want to give +some directions to my servant. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Certainly. + +LORD GORING. When that lady calls, tell her that I am not expected home +this evening. Tell her that I have been suddenly called out of town. +You understand? + +PHIPPS. The lady is in that room, my lord. You told me to show her into +that room, my lord. + +LORD GORING. You did perfectly right. [_Exit_ PHIPPS.] What a mess I +am in. No; I think I shall get through it. I’ll give her a lecture +through the door. Awkward thing to manage, though. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur, tell me what I should do. My life seems to +have crumbled about me. I am a ship without a rudder in a night without +a star. + +LORD GORING. Robert, you love your wife, don’t you? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I love her more than anything in the world. I used +to think ambition the great thing. It is not. Love is the great thing +in the world. There is nothing but love, and I love her. But I am +defamed in her eyes. I am ignoble in her eyes. There is a wide gulf +between us now. She has found me out, Arthur, she has found me out. + +LORD GORING. Has she never in her life done some folly—some +indiscretion—that she should not forgive your sin? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My wife! Never! She does not know what weakness +or temptation is. I am of clay like other men. She stands apart as good +women do—pitiless in her perfection—cold and stern and without mercy. +But I love her, Arthur. We are childless, and I have no one else to +love, no one else to love me. Perhaps if God had sent us children she +might have been kinder to me. But God has given us a lonely house. And +she has cut my heart in two. Don’t let us talk of it. I was brutal to +her this evening. But I suppose when sinners talk to saints they are +brutal always. I said to her things that were hideously true, on my +side, from my stand-point, from the standpoint of men. But don’t let us +talk of that. + +LORD GORING. Your wife will forgive you. Perhaps at this moment she is +forgiving you. She loves you, Robert. Why should she not forgive? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. God grant it! God grant it! [_Buries his face in +his hands_.] But there is something more I have to tell you, Arthur. + +[_Enter_ PHIPPS _with drinks_.] + +PHIPPS. [_Hands hock and seltzer to_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] Hock and +seltzer, sir. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thank you. + +LORD GORING. Is your carriage here, Robert? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. No; I walked from the club. + +LORD GORING. Sir Robert will take my cab, Phipps. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. [_Exit_.] + +LORD GORING. Robert, you don’t mind my sending you away? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur, you must let me stay for five minutes. I +have made up my mind what I am going to do to-night in the House. The +debate on the Argentine Canal is to begin at eleven. [_A chair falls in +the drawing-room_.] What is that? + +LORD GORING. Nothing. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I heard a chair fall in the next room. Some one +has been listening. + +LORD GORING. No, no; there is no one there. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. There is some one. There are lights in the room, +and the door is ajar. Some one has been listening to every secret of my +life. Arthur, what does this mean? + +LORD GORING. Robert, you are excited, unnerved. I tell you there is no +one in that room. Sit down, Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Do you give me your word that there is no one +there? + +LORD GORING. Yes. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Your word of honour? [_Sits down_.] + +LORD GORING. Yes. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rises_.] Arthur, let me see for myself. + +LORD GORING. No, no. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. If there is no one there why should I not look in +that room? Arthur, you must let me go into that room and satisfy myself. +Let me know that no eavesdropper has heard my life’s secret. Arthur, you +don’t realise what I am going through. + +LORD GORING. Robert, this must stop. I have told you that there is no +one in that room—that is enough. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rushes to the door of the room_.] It is not +enough. I insist on going into this room. You have told me there is no +one there, so what reason can you have for refusing me? + +LORD GORING. For God’s sake, don’t! There is some one there. Some one +whom you must not see. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Ah, I thought so! + +LORD GORING. I forbid you to enter that room. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Stand back. My life is at stake. And I don’t care +who is there. I will know who it is to whom I have told my secret and my +shame. [_Enters room_.] + +LORD GORING. Great heavens! his own wife! + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _comes back_, _with a look of scorn and anger on his +face_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What explanation have you to give me for the +presence of that woman here? + +LORD GORING. Robert, I swear to you on my honour that that lady is +stainless and guiltless of all offence towards you. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. She is a vile, an infamous thing! + +LORD GORING. Don’t say that, Robert! It was for your sake she came +here. It was to try and save you she came here. She loves you and no +one else. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You are mad. What have I to do with her intrigues +with you? Let her remain your mistress! You are well suited to each +other. She, corrupt and shameful—you, false as a friend, treacherous as +an enemy even— + +LORD GORING. It is not true, Robert. Before heaven, it is not true. In +her presence and in yours I will explain all. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Let me pass, sir. You have lied enough upon your +word of honour. + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _goes out_. LORD GORING _rushes to the door of the +drawing-room_, _when_ MRS. CHEVELEY _comes out_, _looking radiant and +much amused_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a mock curtsey_] Good evening, Lord Goring! + +LORD GORING. Mrs. Cheveley! Great heavens! . . . May I ask what you +were doing in my drawing-room? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Merely listening. I have a perfect passion for listening +through keyholes. One always hears such wonderful things through them. + +LORD GORING. Doesn’t that sound rather like tempting Providence? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh! surely Providence can resist temptation by this time. +[_Makes a sign to him to take her cloak off_, _which he does_.] + +LORD GORING. I am glad you have called. I am going to give you some +good advice. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh! pray don’t. One should never give a woman anything +that she can’t wear in the evening. + +LORD GORING. I see you are quite as wilful as you used to be. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Far more! I have greatly improved. I have had more +experience. + +LORD GORING. Too much experience is a dangerous thing. Pray have a +cigarette. Half the pretty women in London smoke cigarettes. Personally +I prefer the other half. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. I never smoke. My dressmaker wouldn’t like it, +and a woman’s first duty in life is to her dressmaker, isn’t it? What +the second duty is, no one has as yet discovered. + +LORD GORING. You have come here to sell me Robert Chiltern’s letter, +haven’t you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. To offer it to you on conditions. How did you guess +that? + +LORD GORING. Because you haven’t mentioned the subject. Have you got it +with you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Sitting down_.] Oh, no! A well-made dress has no +pockets. + +LORD GORING. What is your price for it? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. How absurdly English you are! The English think that a +cheque-book can solve every problem in life. Why, my dear Arthur, I have +very much more money than you have, and quite as much as Robert Chiltern +has got hold of. Money is not what I want. + +LORD GORING. What do you want then, Mrs. Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Why don’t you call me Laura? + +LORD GORING. I don’t like the name. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You used to adore it. + +LORD GORING. Yes: that’s why. [MRS. CHEVELEY _motions to him to sit +down beside her_. _He smiles_, _and does so_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Arthur, you loved me once. + +LORD GORING. Yes. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. And you asked me to be your wife. + +LORD GORING. That was the natural result of my loving you. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. And you threw me over because you saw, or said you saw, +poor old Lord Mortlake trying to have a violent flirtation with me in the +conservatory at Tenby. + +LORD GORING. I am under the impression that my lawyer settled that +matter with you on certain terms . . . dictated by yourself. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. At that time I was poor; you were rich. + +LORD GORING. Quite so. That is why you pretended to love me. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Shrugging her shoulders_.] Poor old Lord Mortlake, who +had only two topics of conversation, his gout and his wife! I never +could quite make out which of the two he was talking about. He used the +most horrible language about them both. Well, you were silly, Arthur. +Why, Lord Mortlake was never anything more to me than an amusement. One +of those utterly tedious amusements one only finds at an English country +house on an English country Sunday. I don’t think any one at all morally +responsible for what he or she does at an English country house. + +LORD GORING. Yes. I know lots of people think that. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I loved you, Arthur. + +LORD GORING. My dear Mrs. Cheveley, you have always been far too clever +to know anything about love. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I did love you. And you loved me. You know you loved +me; and love is a very wonderful thing. I suppose that when a man has +once loved a woman, he will do anything for her, except continue to love +her? [_Puts her hand on his_.] + +LORD GORING. [_Taking his hand away quietly_.] Yes: except that. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a pause_.] I am tired of living abroad. I want +to come back to London. I want to have a charming house here. I want to +have a salon. If one could only teach the English how to talk, and the +Irish how to listen, society here would be quite civilised. Besides, I +have arrived at the romantic stage. When I saw you last night at the +Chilterns’, I knew you were the only person I had ever cared for, if I +ever have cared for anybody, Arthur. And so, on the morning of the day +you marry me, I will give you Robert Chiltern’s letter. That is my +offer. I will give it to you now, if you promise to marry me. + +LORD GORING. Now? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Smiling_.] To-morrow. + +LORD GORING. Are you really serious? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes, quite serious. + +LORD GORING. I should make you a very bad husband. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I don’t mind bad husbands. I have had two. They amused +me immensely. + +LORD GORING. You mean that you amused yourself immensely, don’t you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. What do you know about my married life? + +LORD GORING. Nothing: but I can read it like a book. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. What book? + +LORD GORING. [_Rising_.] The Book of Numbers. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Do you think it is quite charming of you to be so rude to +a woman in your own house? + +LORD GORING. In the case of very fascinating women, sex is a challenge, +not a defence. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I suppose that is meant for a compliment. My dear +Arthur, women are never disarmed by compliments. Men always are. That +is the difference between the two sexes. + +LORD GORING. Women are never disarmed by anything, as far as I know +them. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a pause_.] Then you are going to allow your +greatest friend, Robert Chiltern, to be ruined, rather than marry some +one who really has considerable attractions left. I thought you would +have risen to some great height of self-sacrifice, Arthur. I think you +should. And the rest of your life you could spend in contemplating your +own perfections. + +LORD GORING. Oh! I do that as it is. And self-sacrifice is a thing that +should be put down by law. It is so demoralising to the people for whom +one sacrifices oneself. They always go to the bad. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. As if anything could demoralise Robert Chiltern! You +seem to forget that I know his real character. + +LORD GORING. What you know about him is not his real character. It was +an act of folly done in his youth, dishonourable, I admit, shameful, I +admit, unworthy of him, I admit, and therefore . . . not his true +character. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. How you men stand up for each other! + +LORD GORING. How you women war against each other! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Bitterly_.] I only war against one woman, against +Gertrude Chiltern. I hate her. I hate her now more than ever. + +LORD GORING. Because you have brought a real tragedy into her life, I +suppose. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a sneer_.] Oh, there is only one real tragedy in +a woman’s life. The fact that her past is always her lover, and her +future invariably her husband. + +LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern knows nothing of the kind of life to which +you are alluding. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. A woman whose size in gloves is seven and three-quarters +never knows much about anything. You know Gertrude has always worn seven +and three-quarters? That is one of the reasons why there was never any +moral sympathy between us. . . . Well, Arthur, I suppose this romantic +interview may be regarded as at an end. You admit it was romantic, don’t +you? For the privilege of being your wife I was ready to surrender a +great prize, the climax of my diplomatic career. You decline. Very +well. If Sir Robert doesn’t uphold my Argentine scheme, I expose him. +_Voilà tout_. + +LORD GORING. You mustn’t do that. It would be vile, horrible, infamous. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Shrugging her shoulders_.] Oh! don’t use big words. +They mean so little. It is a commercial transaction. That is all. +There is no good mixing up sentimentality in it. I offered to sell +Robert Chiltern a certain thing. If he won’t pay me my price, he will +have to pay the world a greater price. There is no more to be said. I +must go. Good-bye. Won’t you shake hands? + +LORD GORING. With you? No. Your transaction with Robert Chiltern may +pass as a loathsome commercial transaction of a loathsome commercial age; +but you seem to have forgotten that you came here to-night to talk of +love, you whose lips desecrated the word love, you to whom the thing is a +book closely sealed, went this afternoon to the house of one of the most +noble and gentle women in the world to degrade her husband in her eyes, +to try and kill her love for him, to put poison in her heart, and +bitterness in her life, to break her idol, and, it may be, spoil her +soul. That I cannot forgive you. That was horrible. For that there can +be no forgiveness. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Arthur, you are unjust to me. Believe me, you are quite +unjust to me. I didn’t go to taunt Gertrude at all. I had no idea of +doing anything of the kind when I entered. I called with Lady Markby +simply to ask whether an ornament, a jewel, that I lost somewhere last +night, had been found at the Chilterns’. If you don’t believe me, you +can ask Lady Markby. She will tell you it is true. The scene that +occurred happened after Lady Markby had left, and was really forced on me +by Gertrude’s rudeness and sneers. I called, oh!—a little out of malice +if you like—but really to ask if a diamond brooch of mine had been found. +That was the origin of the whole thing. + +LORD GORING. A diamond snake-brooch with a ruby? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. How do you know? + +LORD GORING. Because it is found. In point of fact, I found it myself, +and stupidly forgot to tell the butler anything about it as I was +leaving. [_Goes over to the writing-table and pulls out the drawers_.] +It is in this drawer. No, that one. This is the brooch, isn’t it? +[_Holds up the brooch_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. I am so glad to get it back. It was . . a present. + +LORD GORING. Won’t you wear it? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Certainly, if you pin it in. [LORD GORING _suddenly +clasps it on her arm_.] Why do you put it on as a bracelet? I never +knew it could be worn as a bracelet. + +LORD GORING. Really? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Holding out her handsome arm_.] No; but it looks very +well on me as a bracelet, doesn’t it? + +LORD GORING. Yes; much better than when I saw it last. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. When did you see it last? + +LORD GORING. [_Calmly_.] Oh, ten years ago, on Lady Berkshire, from +whom you stole it. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Starting_.] What do you mean? + +LORD GORING. I mean that you stole that ornament from my cousin, Mary +Berkshire, to whom I gave it when she was married. Suspicion fell on a +wretched servant, who was sent away in disgrace. I recognised it last +night. I determined to say nothing about it till I had found the thief. +I have found the thief now, and I have heard her own confession. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Tossing her head_.] It is not true. + +LORD GORING. You know it is true. Why, thief is written across your +face at this moment. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I will deny the whole affair from beginning to end. I +will say that I have never seen this wretched thing, that it was never in +my possession. + +[MRS. CHEVELEY _tries to get the bracelet off her arm_, _but fails_. +LORD GORING _looks on amused_. _Her thin fingers tear at the jewel to no +purpose_. _A curse breaks from her_.] + +LORD GORING. The drawback of stealing a thing, Mrs. Cheveley, is that +one never knows how wonderful the thing that one steals is. You can’t +get that bracelet off, unless you know where the spring is. And I see +you don’t know where the spring is. It is rather difficult to find. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You brute! You coward! [_She tries again to unclasp the +bracelet_, _but fails_.] + +LORD GORING. Oh! don’t use big words. They mean so little. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Again tears at the bracelet in a paroxysm of rage_, +_with inarticulate sounds_. _Then stops_, _and looks at_ LORD GORING.] +What are you going to do? + +LORD GORING. I am going to ring for my servant. He is an admirable +servant. Always comes in the moment one rings for him. When he comes I +will tell him to fetch the police. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Trembling_.] The police? What for? + +LORD GORING. To-morrow the Berkshires will prosecute you. That is what +the police are for. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Is now in an agony of physical terror_. _Her face is +distorted_. _Her mouth awry_. _A mask has fallen from her_. _She is_, +_for the moment_, _dreadful to look at_.] Don’t do that. I will do +anything you want. Anything in the world you want. + +LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern’s letter. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Stop! Stop! Let me have time to think. + +LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern’s letter. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I have not got it with me. I will give it to you +to-morrow. + +LORD GORING. You know you are lying. Give it to me at once. [MRS. +CHEVELEY _pulls the letter out_, _and hands it to him_. _She is horribly +pale_.] This is it? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_In a hoarse voice_.] Yes. + +LORD GORING. [_Takes the letter_, _examines it_, _sighs_, _and burns it +with the lamp_.] For so well-dressed a woman, Mrs. Cheveley, you have +moments of admirable common sense. I congratulate you. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Catches sight of_ LADY CHILTERN’S _letter_, _the cover +of which is just showing from under the blotting-book_.] Please get me a +glass of water. + +LORD GORING. Certainly. [_Goes to the corner of the room and pours out +a glass of water_. _While his back is turned_ MRS. CHEVELEY _steals_ +LADY CHILTERN’S _letter_. _When_ LORD GORING _returns the glass she +refuses it with a gesture_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. Will you help me on with my cloak? + +LORD GORING. With pleasure. [_Puts her cloak on_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. I am never going to try to harm Robert Chiltern +again. + +LORD GORING. Fortunately you have not the chance, Mrs. Cheveley. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Well, if even I had the chance, I wouldn’t. On the +contrary, I am going to render him a great service. + +LORD GORING. I am charmed to hear it. It is a reformation. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. I can’t bear so upright a gentleman, so honourable +an English gentleman, being so shamefully deceived, and so— + +LORD GORING. Well? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I find that somehow Gertrude Chiltern’s dying speech and +confession has strayed into my pocket. + +LORD GORING. What do you mean? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a bitter note of triumph in her voice_.] I mean +that I am going to send Robert Chiltern the love-letter his wife wrote to +you to-night. + +LORD GORING. Love-letter? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Laughing_.] ‘I want you. I trust you. I am coming to +you. Gertrude.’ + +[LORD GORING _rushes to the bureau and takes up the envelope_, _finds is +empty_, _and turns round_.] + +LORD GORING. You wretched woman, must you always be thieving? Give me +back that letter. I’ll take it from you by force. You shall not leave +my room till I have got it. + +[_He rushes towards her_, _but_ MRS. CHEVELEY _at once puts her hand on +the electric bell that is on the table_. _The bell sounds with shrill +reverberations_, _and_ PHIPPS _enters_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a pause_.] Lord Goring merely rang that you +should show me out. Good-night, Lord Goring! + +[_Goes out followed by_ PHIPPS. _Her face is illumined with evil +triumph_. _There is joy in her eyes_. _Youth seems to have come back to +her_. _Her last glance is like a swift arrow_. LORD GORING _bites his +lip_, _and lights a cigarette_.] + + ACT DROP. + + + + +FOURTH ACT + + +SCENE + + +_Same as Act II_. + +[LORD GORING _is standing by the fireplace with his hands in his +pockets_. _He is looking rather bored_.] + +LORD GORING. [_Pulls out his watch_, _inspects it_, _and rings the +bell_.] It is a great nuisance. I can’t find any one in this house to +talk to. And I am full of interesting information. I feel like the +latest edition of something or other. + +[_Enter servant_.] + +JAMES. Sir Robert is still at the Foreign Office, my lord. + +LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern not down yet? + +JAMES. Her ladyship has not yet left her room. Miss Chiltern has just +come in from riding. + +LORD GORING. [_To himself_.] Ah! that is something. + +JAMES. Lord Caversham has been waiting some time in the library for Sir +Robert. I told him your lordship was here. + +LORD GORING. Thank you! Would you kindly tell him I’ve gone? + +JAMES. [_Bowing_.] I shall do so, my lord. + +[_Exit servant_.] + +LORD GORING. Really, I don’t want to meet my father three days running. +It is a great deal too much excitement for any son. I hope to goodness +he won’t come up. Fathers should be neither seen nor heard. That is the +only proper basis for family life. Mothers are different. Mothers are +darlings. [_Throws himself down into a chair_, _picks up a paper and +begins to read it_.] + +[_Enter_ LORD CAVERSHAM.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, what are you doing here? Wasting your time +as usual, I suppose? + +LORD GORING. [_Throws down paper and rises_.] My dear father, when one +pays a visit it is for the purpose of wasting other people’s time, not +one’s own. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Have you been thinking over what I spoke to you about +last night? + +LORD GORING. I have been thinking about nothing else. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Engaged to be married yet? + +LORD GORING. [_Genially_.] Not yet: but I hope to be before lunch-time. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Caustically_.] You can have till dinner-time if it +would be of any convenience to you. + +LORD GORING. Thanks awfully, but I think I’d sooner be engaged before +lunch. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Humph! Never know when you are serious or not. + +LORD GORING. Neither do I, father. + +[_A pause_.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. I suppose you have read _The Times_ this morning? + +LORD GORING. [_Airily_.] The Times? Certainly not. I only read _The +Morning Post_. All that one should know about modern life is where the +Duchesses are; anything else is quite demoralising. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Do you mean to say you have not read _The Times_ leading +article on Robert Chiltern’s career? + +LORD GORING. Good heavens! No. What does it say? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. What should it say, sir? Everything complimentary, of +course. Chiltern’s speech last night on this Argentine Canal scheme was +one of the finest pieces of oratory ever delivered in the House since +Canning. + +LORD GORING. Ah! Never heard of Canning. Never wanted to. And did . . . +did Chiltern uphold the scheme? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Uphold it, sir? How little you know him! Why, he +denounced it roundly, and the whole system of modern political finance. +This speech is the turning-point in his career, as _The Times_ points +out. You should read this article, sir. [_Opens_ The Times.] ‘Sir +Robert Chiltern . . . most rising of our young statesmen . . . Brilliant +Orator . . . Unblemished career . . . Well-known integrity of character +. . . Represents what is best in English public life . . . Noble contrast +to the lax morality so common among foreign politicians.’ They will +never say that of you, sir. + +LORD GORING. I sincerely hope not, father. However, I am delighted at +what you tell me about Robert, thoroughly delighted. It shows he has got +pluck. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. He has got more than pluck, sir, he has got genius. + +LORD GORING. Ah! I prefer pluck. It is not so common, nowadays, as +genius is. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. I wish you would go into Parliament. + +LORD GORING. My dear father, only people who look dull ever get into the +House of Commons, and only people who are dull ever succeed there. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Why don’t you try to do something useful in life? + +LORD GORING. I am far too young. + +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 Minster’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. Every one 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 any one 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. Montford, 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 recognise 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 Montford 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 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 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 taking 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 out 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 here 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 out 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 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 +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. Wish I could say the same for you, sir. [_To_ LORD GORING.] +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 in 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 + + * * * * * + + * * * * * + + THE NORTHUMBERLAND PRESS, NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN IDEAL HUSBAND *** + +***** This file should be named 885-0.txt or 885-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/8/8/885/ + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: An Ideal Husband<br /> +A Play</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Oscar Wilde</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April, 1997 [eBook #885]<br /> +[Most recently updated: June 7, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Price</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN IDEAL HUSBAND ***</div> + +<h1>AN IDEAL HUSBAND</h1> + +<p style="text-align: center">A PLAY</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +OSCAR WILDE</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">methuen & +co. ltd.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">36 essex street w.c.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">london</span></p> + +<p style="text-align: center"><i>First Published</i>, <i>at 1s. +net</i>, <i>in 1912</i></p> + +<table> + +<tr> +<td colspan="3"><p><i>This book was First Published in 1893</i></p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><p><i>First Published</i> (<i>Second Edition</i>) <i>by +Methuen & Co.</i></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>February</i></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>1908</i></p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><p><i>Third Edition</i></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>October</i></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>1909</i></p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><p><i>Fourth edition</i></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>October</i></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>1910</i></p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><p><i>Fifth Edition</i></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>May</i></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>1912</i></p> +</td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<h2>THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY</h2> + +<p>THE EARL OF CAVERSHAM, K.G.</p> + +<p>VISCOUNT GORING, his Son</p> + +<p>SIR ROBERT CHILTERN, Bart., Under-Secretary for Foreign +Affairs</p> + +<p>VICOMTE DE NANJAC, Attaché at the French Embassy in +London</p> + +<p>MR. MONTFORD</p> + +<p>MASON, Butler to Sir Robert Chiltern</p> + +<p>PHIPPS, Lord Goring’s Servant</p> + +<p>JAMES }</p> + +<p>HAROLD } Footmen</p> + +<p>LADY CHILTERN</p> + +<p>LADY MARKBY</p> + +<p>THE COUNTESS OF BASILDON</p> + +<p>MRS. MARCHMONT</p> + +<p>MISS MABEL CHILTERN, Sir Robert Chiltern’s Sister</p> + +<p>MRS. CHEVELEY</p> + +<h2>THE SCENES OF THE PLAY</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Act</span> I. <i>The Octagon Room in +Sir Robert Chiltern’s House in Grosvenor Square</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Act</span> II. <i>Morning-room in +Sir Robert Chiltern’s House</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Act</span> III. <i>The Library of +Lord Goring’s House in Curzon Street</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Act</span> IV. <i>Same as Act +II</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Time</span>: <i>The Present</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Place</span>: <i>London</i>.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"><i>The action of the play is +completed within twenty-four hours</i>.</p> +<h2>THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET</h2> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Sole Lessee</i>: <i>Mr. Herbert +Beerbohm Tree</i></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Managers</i>: <i>Mr. Lewis +Waller and Mr. H. H. Morell</i></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>January</i> 3<i>rd</i>, 1895</p> + +<table> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Earl of Caversham</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Mr. Alfred Bishop</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Viscount Goring</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Mr. Charles H. Hawtrey</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Sir Robert Chiltern</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Mr. Lewis Waller</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Vicomte de Nanjac</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Mr. Cosmo Stuart</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Mr. Montford</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Mr. Harry Stanford</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Phipps</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Mr. C. H. Brookfield</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Mason</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Mr. H. Deane</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">James</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Mr. Charles Meyrick</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Harold</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Mr. Goodhart</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Lady Chiltern</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Miss Julia Neilson</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Lady Markby</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Miss Fanny Brough</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Countess of Basildon</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Miss Vane Featherston</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Marchmont</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Miss Helen Forsyth</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Miss Mabel Chiltern</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Miss Maud Millet</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Cheveley</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Miss Florence West</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<h2>FIRST ACT</h2> + +<h3>SCENE</h3> + +<p><i>The octagon room at Sir Robert Chiltern’s house in +Grosvenor Square</i>.</p> + +<p>[<i>The room is brilliantly lighted and full of +guests</i>. <i>At the top of the staircase stands</i> <span +class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>, <i>a woman of grave Greek +beauty</i>, <i>about twenty-seven years of age</i>. <i>She +receives the guests as they come up</i>. <i>Over the well +of the staircase hangs a great chandelier with wax lights</i>, +<i>which illumine a large eighteenth-century French +tapestry—representing the Triumph of Love</i>, <i>from a +design by Boucher—that is stretched on the staircase +wall</i>. <i>On the right is the entrance to the +music-room</i>. <i>The sound of a string quartette is +faintly heard</i>. <i>The entrance on the left leads to +other reception-rooms</i>. <span class="smcap">mrs. +marchmont</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">lady +basildon</span>, <i>two very pretty women</i>, <i>are seated +together on a Louis Seize sofa</i>. <i>They are types of +exquisite fragility</i>. <i>Their affectation of manner has +a delicate charm</i>. <i>Watteau would have loved to paint +them</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. Going on to +the Hartlocks’ to-night, Margaret?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. I suppose +so. Are you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. Yes. +Horribly tedious parties they give, don’t they?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. Horribly +tedious! Never know why I go. Never know why I go +anywhere.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. I come here +to be educated.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. Ah! I hate +being educated!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. So do +I. It puts one almost on a level with the commercial +classes, doesn’t it? But dear Gertrude Chiltern is +always telling me that I should have some serious purpose in +life. So I come here to try to find one.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. [<i>Looking +round through her lorgnette</i>.] I don’t see anybody +here to-night whom one could possibly call a serious +purpose. The man who took me in to dinner talked to me +about his wife the whole time.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. How very +trivial of him!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. Terribly +trivial! What did your man talk about?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. About +myself.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. +[<i>Languidly</i>.] And were you interested?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. [<i>Shaking +her head</i>.] Not in the smallest degree.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. What martyrs +we are, dear Margaret!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. +[<i>Rising</i>.] And how well it becomes us, Olivia!</p> + +<p>[<i>They rise and go towards the music-room</i>. +<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">vicomte de nanjac</span>, <i>a +young attaché known for his neckties and his +Anglomania</i>, <i>approaches with a low bow</i>, <i>and enters +into conversation</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mason</span>. [<i>Announcing guests +from the top of the staircase</i>.] Mr. and Lady Jane +Barford. Lord Caversham.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>, <i>an +old gentleman of seventy</i>, <i>wearing the riband and star of +the Garter</i>. <i>A fine Whig type</i>. <i>Rather +like a portrait by Lawrence</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Good evening, +Lady Chiltern! Has my good-for-nothing young son been +here?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. +[<i>Smiling</i>.] I don’t think Lord Goring has +arrived yet.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. [<i>Coming up +to</i> <span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>.] Why do +you call Lord Goring good-for-nothing?</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span> <i>is a perfect +example of the English type of prettiness</i>, <i>the +apple-blossom type</i>. <i>She has all the fragrance and +freedom of a flower</i>. <i>There is ripple after ripple of +sunlight in her hair</i>, <i>and the little mouth</i>, <i>with +its parted lips</i>, <i>is expectant</i>, <i>like the mouth of a +child</i>. <i>She has the fascinating tyranny of youth</i>, +<i>and the astonishing courage of innocence</i>. <i>To sane +people she is not reminiscent of any work of art</i>. +<i>But she is really like a Tanagra statuette</i>, <i>and would +be rather annoyed if she were told so</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Because he +leads such an idle life.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. How can you +say such a thing? Why, he rides in the Row at ten +o’clock in the morning, goes to the Opera three times a +week, changes his clothes at least five times a day, and dines +out every night of the season. You don’t call that +leading an idle life, do you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. [<i>Looking +at her with a kindly twinkle in his eyes</i>.] You are a +very charming young lady!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. How sweet of +you to say that, Lord Caversham! Do come to us more +often. You know we are always at home on Wednesdays, and +you look so well with your star!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Never go +anywhere now. Sick of London Society. Shouldn’t +mind being introduced to my own tailor; he always votes on the +right side. But object strongly to being sent down to +dinner with my wife’s milliner. Never could stand +Lady Caversham’s bonnets.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Oh, I love +London Society! I think it has immensely improved. It +is entirely composed now of beautiful idiots and brilliant +lunatics. Just what Society should be.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Hum! +Which is Goring? Beautiful idiot, or the other thing?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. +[<i>Gravely</i>.] I have been obliged for the present to +put Lord Goring into a class quite by himself. But he is +developing charmingly!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Into +what?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. [<i>With a +little curtsey</i>.] I hope to let you know very soon, Lord +Caversham!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mason</span>. [<i>Announcing +guests</i>.] Lady Markby. Mrs. Cheveley.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">lady markby</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. <span +class="smcap">lady markby</span> <i>is a pleasant</i>, +<i>kindly</i>, <i>popular woman</i>, <i>with gray hair à +la marquise and good lace</i>. <span class="smcap">mrs. +cheveley</span>, <i>who accompanies her</i>, <i>is tall and +rather slight</i>. <i>Lips very thin and +highly-coloured</i>, <i>a line of scarlet on a pallid +face</i>. <i>Venetian red hair</i>, <i>aquiline nose</i>, +<i>and long throat</i>. <i>Rouge accentuates the natural +paleness of her complexion</i>. <i>Gray-green eyes that +move restlessly</i>. <i>She is in heliotrope</i>, <i>with +diamonds</i>. <i>She looks rather like an orchid</i>, +<i>and makes great demands on one’s curiosity</i>. +<i>In all her movements she is extremely graceful</i>. <i>A +work of art</i>, <i>on the whole</i>, <i>but showing the +influence of too many schools</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Good evening, +dear Gertrude! So kind of you to let me bring my friend, +Mrs. Cheveley. Two such charming women should know each +other!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>Advances +towards</i> <span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> <i>with a +sweet smile</i>. <i>Then suddenly stops</i>, <i>and bows +rather distantly</i>.] I think Mrs. Cheveley and I have met +before. I did not know she had married a second time.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. +[<i>Genially</i>.] Ah, nowadays people marry as often as +they can, don’t they? It is most fashionable. +[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">duchess of +maryborough</span>.] Dear Duchess, and how is the +Duke? Brain still weak, I suppose? Well, that is only +to be expected, is it not? His good father was just the +same. There is nothing like race, is there?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Playing +with her fan</i>.] But have we really met before, Lady +Chiltern? I can’t remember where. I have been +out of England for so long.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. We were at +school together, Mrs. Cheveley.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> +[<i>Superciliously</i>.] Indeed? I have forgotten all +about my schooldays. I have a vague impression that they +were detestable.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. +[<i>Coldly</i>.] I am not surprised!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>In her +sweetest manner</i>.] Do you know, I am quite looking +forward to meeting your clever husband, Lady Chiltern. +Since he has been at the Foreign Office, he has been so much +talked of in Vienna. They actually succeed in spelling his +name right in the newspapers. That in itself is fame, on +the continent.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. I hardly think +there will be much in common between you and my husband, Mrs. +Cheveley! [<i>Moves away</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">vicomte de nanjac</span>. Ah! +chère Madame, quelle surprise! I have not seen you +since Berlin!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Not since +Berlin, Vicomte. Five years ago!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">vicomte de nanjac</span>. And you +are younger and more beautiful than ever. How do you manage +it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. By making it a +rule only to talk to perfectly charming people like yourself.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">vicomte de nanjac</span>. Ah! you +flatter me. You butter me, as they say here.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Do they say +that here? How dreadful of them!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">vicomte de nanjac</span>. Yes, they +have a wonderful language. It should be more widely +known.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span> +<i>enters</i>. <i>A man of forty</i>, <i>but looking +somewhat younger</i>. <i>Clean-shaven</i>, <i>with +finely-cut features</i>, <i>dark-haired and dark-eyed</i>. +<i>A personality of mark</i>. <i>Not popular—few +personalities are</i>. <i>But intensely admired by the +few</i>, <i>and deeply respected by the many</i>. <i>The +note of his manner is that of perfect distinction</i>, <i>with a +slight touch of pride</i>. <i>One feels that he is +conscious of the success he has made in life</i>. <i>A +nervous temperament</i>, <i>with a tired look</i>. <i>The +firmly-chiselled mouth and chin contrast strikingly with the +romantic expression in the deep-set eyes</i>. <i>The +variance is suggestive of an almost complete separation of +passion and intellect</i>, <i>as though thought and emotion were +each isolated in its own sphere through some violence of +will-power</i>. <i>There is nervousness in the +nostrils</i>, <i>and in the pale</i>, <i>thin</i>, <i>pointed +hands</i>. <i>It would be inaccurate to call him +picturesque</i>. <i>Picturesqueness cannot survive the +House of Commons</i>. <i>But Vandyck would have liked to +have painted his head</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Good +evening, Lady Markby! I hope you have brought Sir John with +you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Oh! I have +brought a much more charming person than Sir John. Sir +John’s temper since he has taken seriously to politics has +become quite unbearable. Really, now that the House of +Commons is trying to become useful, it does a great deal of +harm.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I hope +not, Lady Markby. At any rate we do our best to waste the +public time, don’t we? But who is this charming +person you have been kind enough to bring to us?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Her name is Mrs. +Cheveley! One of the Dorsetshire Cheveleys, I +suppose. But I really don’t know. Families are +so mixed nowadays. Indeed, as a rule, everybody turns out +to be somebody else.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Mrs. +Cheveley? I seem to know the name.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. She has just +arrived from Vienna.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Ah! +yes. I think I know whom you mean.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Oh! she goes +everywhere there, and has such pleasant scandals about all her +friends. I really must go to Vienna next winter. I +hope there is a good chef at the Embassy.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. If there +is not, the Ambassador will certainly have to be recalled. +Pray point out Mrs. Cheveley to me. I should like to see +her.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Let me introduce +you. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">mrs. +cheveley</span>.] My dear, Sir Robert Chiltern is dying to +know you!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Bowing</i>.] Every one is dying to know the brilliant +Mrs. Cheveley. Our attachés at Vienna write to us +about nothing else.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Thank you, Sir +Robert. An acquaintance that begins with a compliment is +sure to develop into a real friendship. It starts in the +right manner. And I find that I know Lady Chiltern +already.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +Really?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Yes. She +has just reminded me that we were at school together. I +remember it perfectly now. She always got the good conduct +prize. I have a distinct recollection of Lady Chiltern +always getting the good conduct prize!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Smiling</i>.] And what prizes did you get, Mrs. +Cheveley?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. My prizes came +a little later on in life. I don’t think any of them +were for good conduct. I forget!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I am +sure they were for something charming!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I don’t +know that women are always rewarded for being charming. I +think they are usually punished for it! Certainly, more +women grow old nowadays through the faithfulness of their +admirers than through anything else! At least that is the +only way I can account for the terribly haggard look of most of +your pretty women in London!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. What an +appalling philosophy that sounds! To attempt to classify +you, Mrs. Cheveley, would be an impertinence. But may I +ask, at heart, are you an optimist or a pessimist? Those +seem to be the only two fashionable religions left to us +nowadays.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Oh, I’m +neither. Optimism begins in a broad grin, and Pessimism +ends with blue spectacles. Besides, they are both of them +merely poses.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. You +prefer to be natural?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. +Sometimes. But it is such a very difficult pose to keep +up.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. What +would those modern psychological novelists, of whom we hear so +much, say to such a theory as that?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Ah! the +strength of women comes from the fact that psychology cannot +explain us. Men can be analysed, women . . . merely +adored.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. You +think science cannot grapple with the problem of women?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Science can +never grapple with the irrational. That is why it has no +future before it, in this world.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. And +women represent the irrational.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Well-dressed +women do.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. [<i>With +a polite bow</i>.] I fear I could hardly agree with you +there. But do sit down. And now tell me, what makes +you leave your brilliant Vienna for our gloomy London—or +perhaps the question is indiscreet?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Questions are +never indiscreet. Answers sometimes are.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Well, at +any rate, may I know if it is politics or pleasure?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Politics are +my only pleasure. You see nowadays it is not fashionable to +flirt till one is forty, or to be romantic till one is +forty-five, so we poor women who are under thirty, or say we are, +have nothing open to us but politics or philanthropy. And +philanthropy seems to me to have become simply the refuge of +people who wish to annoy their fellow-creatures. I prefer +politics. I think they are more . . . becoming!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. A +political life is a noble career!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. +Sometimes. And sometimes it is a clever game, Sir +Robert. And sometimes it is a great nuisance.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Which do +you find it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I? A +combination of all three. [<i>Drops her fan</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Picks up fan</i>.] Allow me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Thanks.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. But you +have not told me yet what makes you honour London so +suddenly. Our season is almost over.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Oh! I +don’t care about the London season! It is too +matrimonial. People are either hunting for husbands, or +hiding from them. I wanted to meet you. It is quite +true. You know what a woman’s curiosity is. +Almost as great as a man’s! I wanted immensely to +meet you, and . . . to ask you to do something for me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I hope +it is not a little thing, Mrs. Cheveley. I find that little +things are so very difficult to do.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>After a +moment’s reflection</i>.] No, I don’t think it +is quite a little thing.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I am so +glad. Do tell me what it is.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Later +on. [<i>Rises</i>.] And now may I walk through your +beautiful house? I hear your pictures are charming. +Poor Baron Arnheim—you remember the Baron?—used to +tell me you had some wonderful Corots.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. [<i>With +an almost imperceptible start</i>.] Did you know Baron +Arnheim well?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. +[<i>Smiling</i>.] Intimately. Did you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. At one +time.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Wonderful man, +wasn’t he?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>After a pause</i>.] He was very remarkable, in many +ways.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I often think +it such a pity he never wrote his memoirs. They would have +been most interesting.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Yes: he +knew men and cities well, like the old Greek.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Without the +dreadful disadvantage of having a Penelope waiting at home for +him.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mason</span>. Lord Goring.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +<i>Thirty-four</i>, <i>but always says he is younger</i>. +<i>A well-bred</i>, <i>expressionless face</i>. <i>He is +clever</i>, <i>but would not like to be thought so</i>. +<i>A flawless dandy</i>, <i>he would be annoyed if he were +considered romantic</i>. <i>He plays with life</i>, <i>and +is on perfectly good terms with the world</i>. <i>He is +fond of being misunderstood</i>. <i>It gives him a post of +vantage</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Good +evening, my dear Arthur! Mrs. Cheveley, allow me to +introduce to you Lord Goring, the idlest man in London.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I have met +Lord Goring before.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Bowing</i>.] I did not think you would remember me, +Mrs. Cheveley.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. My memory is +under admirable control. And are you still a bachelor?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I . . . believe +so.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. How very +romantic!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Oh! I am not at +all romantic. I am not old enough. I leave romance to +my seniors.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Lord +Goring is the result of Boodle’s Club, Mrs. Cheveley.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. He reflects +every credit on the institution.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. May I ask are +you staying in London long?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. That depends +partly on the weather, partly on the cooking, and partly on Sir +Robert.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. You are +not going to plunge us into a European war, I hope?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. There is no +danger, at present!</p> + +<p>[<i>She nods to</i> <span class="smcap">lord goring</span>, +<i>with a look of amusement in her eyes</i>, <i>and goes out +with</i> <span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +<span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>saunters over to</i> +<span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. You are very +late!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Have you missed +me?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Awfully!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Then I am sorry +I did not stay away longer. I like being missed.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. How very +selfish of you!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I am very +selfish.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. You are +always telling me of your bad qualities, Lord Goring.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I have only told +you half of them as yet, Miss Mabel!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Are the +others very bad?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Quite +dreadful! When I think of them at night I go to sleep at +once.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Well, I +delight in your bad qualities. I wouldn’t have you +part with one of them.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. How very nice of +you! But then you are always nice. By the way, I want +to ask you a question, Miss Mabel. Who brought Mrs. +Cheveley here? That woman in heliotrope, who has just gone +out of the room with your brother?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Oh, I think +Lady Markby brought her. Why do you ask?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I haven’t +seen her for years, that is all.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. What an +absurd reason!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. All reasons are +absurd.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. What sort of +a woman is she?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Oh! a genius in +the daytime and a beauty at night!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. I dislike her +already.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. That shows your +admirable good taste.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">vicomte de nanjac</span>. +[<i>Approaching</i>.] Ah, the English young lady is the +dragon of good taste, is she not? Quite the dragon of good +taste.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. So the +newspapers are always telling us.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">vicomte de nanjac</span>. I read all +your English newspapers. I find them so amusing.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Then, my dear +Nanjac, you must certainly read between the lines.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">vicomte de nanjac</span>. I should +like to, but my professor objects. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>.] May I have the +pleasure of escorting you to the music-room, Mademoiselle?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. [<i>Looking +very disappointed</i>.] Delighted, Vicomte, quite +delighted! [<i>Turning to</i> <span class="smcap">lord +goring</span>.] Aren’t you coming to the +music-room?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Not if there is +any music going on, Miss Mabel.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. +[<i>Severely</i>.] The music is in German. You would +not understand it.</p> + +<p>[<i>Goes out with the</i> <span class="smcap">vicomte de +nanjac</span>. <span class="smcap">lord caversham</span> +<i>comes up to his son</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Well, sir! +what are you doing here? Wasting your life as usual! +You should be in bed, sir. You keep too late hours! I +heard of you the other night at Lady Rufford’s dancing till +four o’clock in the morning!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Only a quarter +to four, father.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Can’t +make out how you stand London Society. The thing has gone +to the dogs, a lot of damned nobodies talking about nothing.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I love talking +about nothing, father. It is the only thing I know anything +about.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. You seem to +me to be living entirely for pleasure.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. What else is +there to live for, father? Nothing ages like happiness.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. You are +heartless, sir, very heartless!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I hope not, +father. Good evening, Lady Basildon!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. [<i>Arching +two pretty eyebrows</i>.] Are you here? I had no idea +you ever came to political parties!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I adore +political parties. They are the only place left to us where +people don’t talk politics.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. I delight in +talking politics. I talk them all day long. But I +can’t bear listening to them. I don’t know how +the unfortunate men in the House stand these long debates.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. By never +listening.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. Really?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>In his most +serious manner</i>.] Of course. You see, it is a very +dangerous thing to listen. If one listens one may be +convinced; and a man who allows himself to be convinced by an +argument is a thoroughly unreasonable person.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. Ah! that +accounts for so much in men that I have never understood, and so +much in women that their husbands never appreciate in them!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. [<i>With a +sigh</i>.] Our husbands never appreciate anything in +us. We have to go to others for that!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. +[<i>Emphatically</i>.] Yes, always to others, have we +not?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Smiling</i>.] And those are the views of the two ladies +who are known to have the most admirable husbands in London.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. That is +exactly what we can’t stand. My Reginald is quite +hopelessly faultless. He is really unendurably so, at +times! There is not the smallest element of excitement in +knowing him.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. How +terrible! Really, the thing should be more widely +known!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. Basildon is +quite as bad; he is as domestic as if he was a bachelor.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. +[<i>Pressing</i> <span class="smcap">lady basildon’s</span> +<i>hand</i>.] My poor Olivia! We have married perfect +husbands, and we are well punished for it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I should have +thought it was the husbands who were punished.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. [<i>Drawing +herself up</i>.] Oh, dear no! They are as happy as +possible! And as for trusting us, it is tragic how much +they trust us.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. Perfectly +tragic!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Or comic, Lady +Basildon?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. Certainly not +comic, Lord Goring. How unkind of you to suggest such a +thing!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. I am afraid +Lord Goring is in the camp of the enemy, as usual. I saw +him talking to that Mrs. Cheveley when he came in.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Handsome woman, +Mrs. Cheveley!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. +[<i>Stiffly</i>.] Please don’t praise other women in +our presence. You might wait for us to do that!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I did wait.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. Well, we are +not going to praise her. I hear she went to the Opera on +Monday night, and told Tommy Rufford at supper that, as far as +she could see, London Society was entirely made up of dowdies and +dandies.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. She is quite +right, too. The men are all dowdies and the women are all +dandies, aren’t they?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. [<i>After a +pause</i>.] Oh! do you really think that is what Mrs. +Cheveley meant?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Of course. +And a very sensible remark for Mrs. Cheveley to make, too.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. +<i>She joins the group</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Why are you +talking about Mrs. Cheveley? Everybody is talking about +Mrs. Cheveley! Lord Goring says—what did you say, +Lord Goring, about Mrs. Cheveley? Oh! I remember, that she +was a genius in the daytime and a beauty at night.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. What a horrid +combination! So very unnatural!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. [<i>In her +most dreamy manner</i>.] I like looking at geniuses, and +listening to beautiful people.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Ah! that is +morbid of you, Mrs. Marchmont!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. +[<i>Brightening to a look of real pleasure</i>.] I am so +glad to hear you say that. Marchmont and I have been +married for seven years, and he has never once told me that I was +morbid. Men are so painfully unobservant!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. [<i>Turning to +her</i>.] I have always said, dear Margaret, that you were +the most morbid person in London.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. Ah! but you +are always sympathetic, Olivia!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Is it morbid +to have a desire for food? I have a great desire for +food. Lord Goring, will you give me some supper?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. With pleasure, +Miss Mabel. [<i>Moves away with her</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. How horrid +you have been! You have never talked to me the whole +evening!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. How could +I? You went away with the child-diplomatist.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. You might +have followed us. Pursuit would have been only +polite. I don’t think I like you at all this +evening!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I like you +immensely.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Well, I wish +you’d show it in a more marked way! [<i>They go +downstairs</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. Olivia, I +have a curious feeling of absolute faintness. I think I +should like some supper very much. I know I should like +some supper.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. I am +positively dying for supper, Margaret!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. Men are so +horribly selfish, they never think of these things.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. Men are +grossly material, grossly material!</p> + +<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">vicomte de nanjac</span> +<i>enters from the music-room with some other guests</i>. +<i>After having carefully examined all the people present</i>, +<i>he approaches</i> <span class="smcap">lady +basildon</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">vicomte de nanjac</span>. May I have +the honour of taking you down to supper, Comtesse?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. +[<i>Coldly</i>.] I never take supper, thank you, +Vicomte. [<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">vicomte</span> +<i>is about to retire</i>. <span class="smcap">lady +basildon</span>, <i>seeing this</i>, <i>rises at once and takes +his arm</i>.] But I will come down with you with +pleasure.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">vicomte de nanjac</span>. I am so +fond of eating! I am very English in all my tastes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady basildon</span>. You look quite +English, Vicomte, quite English.</p> + +<p>[<i>They pass out</i>. <span class="smcap">mr. +montford</span>, <i>a perfectly groomed young dandy</i>, +<i>approaches</i> <span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mr. montford</span>. Like some +supper, Mrs. Marchmont?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. +[<i>Languidly</i>.] Thank you, Mr. Montford, I never touch +supper. [<i>Rises hastily and takes his arm</i>.] But +I will sit beside you, and watch you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mr. montford</span>. I don’t +know that I like being watched when I am eating!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. Then I will +watch some one else.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mr. montford</span>. I don’t +know that I should like that either.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>. +[<i>Severely</i>.] Pray, Mr. Montford, do not make these +painful scenes of jealousy in public!</p> + +<p>[<i>They go downstairs with the other guests</i>, +<i>passing</i> <span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>, <i>who now +enter</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. And are +you going to any of our country houses before you leave England, +Mrs. Cheveley?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Oh, no! +I can’t stand your English house-parties. In England +people actually try to be brilliant at breakfast. That is +so dreadful of them! Only dull people are brilliant at +breakfast. And then the family skeleton is always reading +family prayers. My stay in England really depends on you, +Sir Robert. [<i>Sits down on the sofa</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Taking a seat beside her</i>.] Seriously?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Quite +seriously. I want to talk to you about a great political +and financial scheme, about this Argentine Canal Company, in +fact.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. What a +tedious, practical subject for you to talk about, Mrs. +Cheveley!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Oh, I like +tedious, practical subjects. What I don’t like are +tedious, practical people. There is a wide +difference. Besides, you are interested, I know, in +International Canal schemes. You were Lord Radley’s +secretary, weren’t you, when the Government bought the Suez +Canal shares?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +Yes. But the Suez Canal was a very great and splendid +undertaking. It gave us our direct route to India. It +had imperial value. It was necessary that we should have +control. This Argentine scheme is a commonplace Stock +Exchange swindle.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. A speculation, +Sir Robert! A brilliant, daring speculation.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Believe +me, Mrs. Cheveley, it is a swindle. Let us call things by +their proper names. It makes matters simpler. We have +all the information about it at the Foreign Office. In +fact, I sent out a special Commission to inquire into the matter +privately, and they report that the works are hardly begun, and +as for the money already subscribed, no one seems to know what +has become of it. The whole thing is a second Panama, and +with not a quarter of the chance of success that miserable affair +ever had. I hope you have not invested in it. I am +sure you are far too clever to have done that.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I have +invested very largely in it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Who +could have advised you to do such a foolish thing?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Your old +friend—and mine.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Who?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Baron +Arnheim.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Frowning</i>.] Ah! yes. I remember hearing, at +the time of his death, that he had been mixed up in the whole +affair.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. It was his +last romance. His last but one, to do him justice.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Rising</i>.] But you have not seen my Corots yet. +They are in the music-room. Corots seem to go with music, +don’t they? May I show them to you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Shaking +her head</i>.] I am not in a mood to-night for silver +twilights, or rose-pink dawns. I want to talk +business. [<i>Motions to him with her fan to sit down again +beside her</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I fear I +have no advice to give you, Mrs. Cheveley, except to interest +yourself in something less dangerous. The success of the +Canal depends, of course, on the attitude of England, and I am +going to lay the report of the Commissioners before the House +to-morrow night.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. That you must +not do. In your own interests, Sir Robert, to say nothing +of mine, you must not do that.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Looking at her in wonder</i>.] In my own +interests? My dear Mrs. Cheveley, what do you mean? +[<i>Sits down beside her</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Sir Robert, I +will be quite frank with you. I want you to withdraw the +report that you had intended to lay before the House, on the +ground that you have reasons to believe that the Commissioners +have been prejudiced or misinformed, or something. Then I +want you to say a few words to the effect that the Government is +going to reconsider the question, and that you have reason to +believe that the Canal, if completed, will be of great +international value. You know the sort of things ministers +say in cases of this kind. A few ordinary platitudes will +do. In modern life nothing produces such an effect as a +good platitude. It makes the whole world kin. Will +you do that for me?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Mrs. +Cheveley, you cannot be serious in making me such a +proposition!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I am quite +serious.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Coldly</i>.] Pray allow me to believe that you are +not.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Speaking +with great deliberation and emphasis</i>.] Ah! but I +am. And if you do what I ask you, I . . . will pay you very +handsomely!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Pay +me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I am +afraid I don’t quite understand what you mean.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Leaning +back on the sofa and looking at him</i>.] How very +disappointing! And I have come all the way from Vienna in +order that you should thoroughly understand me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I fear I +don’t.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>In her +most nonchalant manner</i>.] My dear Sir Robert, you are a +man of the world, and you have your price, I suppose. +Everybody has nowadays. The drawback is that most people +are so dreadfully expensive. I know I am. I hope you +will be more reasonable in your terms.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Rises indignantly</i>.] If you will allow me, I will +call your carriage for you. You have lived so long abroad, +Mrs. Cheveley, that you seem to be unable to realise that you are +talking to an English gentleman.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Detains +him by touching his arm with her fan</i>, <i>and keeping it there +while she is talking</i>.] I realise that I am talking to a +man who laid the foundation of his fortune by selling to a Stock +Exchange speculator a Cabinet secret.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Biting his lip</i>.] What do you mean?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Rising and +facing him</i>.] I mean that I know the real origin of your +wealth and your career, and I have got your letter, too.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. What +letter?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. +[<i>Contemptuously</i>.] The letter you wrote to Baron +Arnheim, when you were Lord Radley’s secretary, telling the +Baron to buy Suez Canal shares—a letter written three days +before the Government announced its own purchase.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Hoarsely</i>.] It is not true.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. You thought +that letter had been destroyed. How foolish of you! +It is in my possession.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. The +affair to which you allude was no more than a speculation. +The House of Commons had not yet passed the bill; it might have +been rejected.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. It was a +swindle, Sir Robert. Let us call things by their proper +names. It makes everything simpler. And now I am +going to sell you that letter, and the price I ask for it is your +public support of the Argentine scheme. You made your own +fortune out of one canal. You must help me and my friends +to make our fortunes out of another!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. It is +infamous, what you propose—infamous!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Oh, no! +This is the game of life as we all have to play it, Sir Robert, +sooner or later!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I cannot +do what you ask me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. You mean you +cannot help doing it. You know you are standing on the edge +of a precipice. And it is not for you to make terms. +It is for you to accept them. Supposing you +refuse—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. What +then?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. My dear Sir +Robert, what then? You are ruined, that is all! +Remember to what a point your Puritanism in England has brought +you. In old days nobody pretended to be a bit better than +his neighbours. In fact, to be a bit better than +one’s neighbour was considered excessively vulgar and +middle-class. Nowadays, with our modern mania for morality, +every one has to pose as a paragon of purity, incorruptibility, +and all the other seven deadly virtues—and what is the +result? You all go over like ninepins—one after the +other. Not a year passes in England without somebody +disappearing. Scandals used to lend charm, or at least +interest, to a man—now they crush him. And yours is a +very nasty scandal. You couldn’t survive it. If it +were known that as a young man, secretary to a great and +important minister, you sold a Cabinet secret for a large sum of +money, and that that was the origin of your wealth and career, +you would be hounded out of public life, you would disappear +completely. And after all, Sir Robert, why should you +sacrifice your entire future rather than deal diplomatically with +your enemy? For the moment I am your enemy. I admit +it! And I am much stronger than you are. The big +battalions are on my side. You have a splendid position, +but it is your splendid position that makes you so +vulnerable. You can’t defend it! And I am in +attack. Of course I have not talked morality to you. +You must admit in fairness that I have spared you that. +Years ago you did a clever, unscrupulous thing; it turned out a +great success. You owe to it your fortune and +position. And now you have got to pay for it. Sooner +or later we have all to pay for what we do. You have to pay +now. Before I leave you to-night, you have got to promise +me to suppress your report, and to speak in the House in favour +of this scheme.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. What you +ask is impossible.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. You must make +it possible. You are going to make it possible. Sir +Robert, you know what your English newspapers are like. +Suppose that when I leave this house I drive down to some +newspaper office, and give them this scandal and the proofs of +it! Think of their loathsome joy, of the delight they would +have in dragging you down, of the mud and mire they would plunge +you in. Think of the hypocrite with his greasy smile +penning his leading article, and arranging the foulness of the +public placard.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +Stop! You want me to withdraw the report and to make a +short speech stating that I believe there are possibilities in +the scheme?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Sitting +down on the sofa</i>.] Those are my terms.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. [<i>In a +low voice</i>.] I will give you any sum of money you +want.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Even you are +not rich enough, Sir Robert, to buy back your past. No man +is.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I will +not do what you ask me. I will not.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. You have +to. If you don’t . . . [<i>Rises from the +sofa</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Bewildered and unnerved</i>.] Wait a moment! What +did you propose? You said that you would give me back my +letter, didn’t you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Yes. +That is agreed. I will be in the Ladies’ Gallery +to-morrow night at half-past eleven. If by that +time—and you will have had heaps of opportunity—you +have made an announcement to the House in the terms I wish, I +shall hand you back your letter with the prettiest thanks, and +the best, or at any rate the most suitable, compliment I can +think of. I intend to play quite fairly with you. One +should always play fairly . . . when one has the winning +cards. The Baron taught me that . . . amongst other +things.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. You must +let me have time to consider your proposal.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. No; you must +settle now!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Give me +a week—three days!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. +Impossible! I have got to telegraph to Vienna to-night.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. My God! +what brought you into my life?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. +Circumstances. [<i>Moves towards the door</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +Don’t go. I consent. The report shall be +withdrawn. I will arrange for a question to be put to me on +the subject.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Thank +you. I knew we should come to an amicable agreement. +I understood your nature from the first. I analysed you, +though you did not adore me. And now you can get my +carriage for me, Sir Robert. I see the people coming up +from supper, and Englishmen always get romantic after a meal, and +that bores me dreadfully. [<i>Exit</i> <span +class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>.]</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter Guests</i>, <span class="smcap">lady +chiltern</span>, <span class="smcap">lady markby</span>, <span +class="smcap">lord caversham</span>, <span class="smcap">lady +basildon</span>, <span class="smcap">mrs. marchmont</span>, <span +class="smcap">vicomte de nanjac</span>, <span class="smcap">mr. +montford</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Well, dear Mrs. +Cheveley, I hope you have enjoyed yourself. Sir Robert is +very entertaining, is he not?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Most +entertaining! I have enjoyed my talk with him +immensely.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. He has had a +very interesting and brilliant career. And he has married a +most admirable wife. Lady Chiltern is a woman of the very +highest principles, I am glad to say. I am a little too old +now, myself, to trouble about setting a good example, but I +always admire people who do. And Lady Chiltern has a very +ennobling effect on life, though her dinner-parties are rather +dull sometimes. But one can’t have everything, can +one? And now I must go, dear. Shall I call for you +to-morrow?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Thanks.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. We might drive +in the Park at five. Everything looks so fresh in the Park +now!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Except the +people!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Perhaps the +people are a little jaded. I have often observed that the +Season as it goes on produces a kind of softening of the +brain. However, I think anything is better than high +intellectual pressure. That is the most unbecoming thing +there is. It makes the noses of the young girls so +particularly large. And there is nothing so difficult to +marry as a large nose; men don’t like them. +Good-night, dear! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">lady +chiltern</span>.] Good-night, Gertrude! [<i>Goes out +on</i> <span class="smcap">lord caversham’s</span> +<i>arm</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. What a +charming house you have, Lady Chiltern! I have spent a +delightful evening. It has been so interesting getting to +know your husband.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Why did you +wish to meet my husband, Mrs. Cheveley?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Oh, I will +tell you. I wanted to interest him in this Argentine Canal +scheme, of which I dare say you have heard. And I found him +most susceptible,—susceptible to reason, I mean. A +rare thing in a man. I converted him in ten minutes. +He is going to make a speech in the House to-morrow night in +favour of the idea. We must go to the Ladies’ Gallery +and hear him! It will be a great occasion!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. There must be +some mistake. That scheme could never have my +husband’s support.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Oh, I assure +you it’s all settled. I don’t regret my tedious +journey from Vienna now. It has been a great success. +But, of course, for the next twenty-four hours the whole thing is +a dead secret.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. +[<i>Gently</i>.] A secret? Between whom?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>With a +flash of amusement in her eyes</i>.] Between your husband +and myself.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Entering</i>.] Your carriage is here, Mrs. +Cheveley!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Thanks! +Good evening, Lady Chiltern! Good-night, Lord Goring! +I am at Claridge’s. Don’t you think you might +leave a card?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. If you wish it, +Mrs. Cheveley!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Oh, +don’t be so solemn about it, or I shall be obliged to leave +a card on you. In England I suppose that would hardly be +considered <i>en règle</i>. Abroad, we are more +civilised. Will you see me down, Sir Robert? Now that +we have both the same interests at heart we shall be great +friends, I hope!</p> + +<p>[<i>Sails out on</i> <span class="smcap">sir robert +chiltern’s</span> <i>arm</i>. <span +class="smcap">lady chiltern</span> <i>goes to the top of the +staircase and looks down at them as they descend</i>. +<i>Her expression is troubled</i>. <i>After a little time +she is joined by some of the guests</i>, <i>and passes with them +into another reception-room</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. What a horrid +woman!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You should go to +bed, Miss Mabel.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Lord +Goring!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. My father told +me to go to bed an hour ago. I don’t see why I +shouldn’t give you the same advice. I always pass on +good advice. It is the only thing to do with it. It +is never of any use to oneself.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Lord Goring, +you are always ordering me out of the room. I think it most +courageous of you. Especially as I am not going to bed for +hours. [<i>Goes over to the sofa</i>.] You can come +and sit down if you like, and talk about anything in the world, +except the Royal Academy, Mrs. Cheveley, or novels in Scotch +dialect. They are not improving subjects. [<i>Catches +sight of something that is lying on the sofa half hidden by the +cushion</i>.] What is this? Some one has dropped a +diamond brooch! Quite beautiful, isn’t it? +[<i>Shows it to him</i>.] I wish it was mine, but Gertrude +won’t let me wear anything but pearls, and I am thoroughly +sick of pearls. They make one look so plain, so good and so +intellectual. I wonder whom the brooch belongs to.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I wonder who +dropped it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. It is a +beautiful brooch.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. It is a handsome +bracelet.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. It +isn’t a bracelet. It’s a brooch.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. It can be used +as a bracelet. [<i>Takes it from her</i>, <i>and</i>, +<i>pulling out a green letter-case</i>, <i>puts the ornament +carefully in it</i>, <i>and replaces the whole thing in his +breast-pocket with the most perfect sang froid</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. What are you +doing?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Miss Mabel, I am +going to make a rather strange request to you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. +[<i>Eagerly</i>.] Oh, pray do! I have been waiting +for it all the evening.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Is a little +taken aback</i>, <i>but recovers himself</i>.] Don’t +mention to anybody that I have taken charge of this brooch. +Should any one write and claim it, let me know at once.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. That is a +strange request.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Well, you see I +gave this brooch to somebody once, years ago.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. You did?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span> <i>enters +alone</i>. <i>The other guests have gone</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Then I shall +certainly bid you good-night. Good-night, Gertrude! +[<i>Exit</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Good-night, +dear! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">lord +goring</span>.] You saw whom Lady Markby brought here +to-night?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes. It +was an unpleasant surprise. What did she come here for?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Apparently to +try and lure Robert to uphold some fraudulent scheme in which she +is interested. The Argentine Canal, in fact.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. She has mistaken +her man, hasn’t she?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. She is +incapable of understanding an upright nature like my +husband’s!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes. I +should fancy she came to grief if she tried to get Robert into +her toils. It is extraordinary what astounding mistakes +clever women make.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. I don’t +call women of that kind clever. I call them stupid!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Same thing +often. Good-night, Lady Chiltern!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. +Good-night!</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">sir robert +chiltern</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. My dear +Arthur, you are not going? Do stop a little!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Afraid I +can’t, thanks. I have promised to look in at the +Hartlocks’. I believe they have got a mauve Hungarian +band that plays mauve Hungarian music. See you soon. +Good-bye!</p> + +<p>[<i>Exit</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. How +beautiful you look to-night, Gertrude!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Robert, it is +not true, is it? You are not going to lend your support to +this Argentine speculation? You couldn’t!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Starting</i>.] Who told you I intended to do so?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. That woman who +has just gone out, Mrs. Cheveley, as she calls herself now. +She seemed to taunt me with it. Robert, I know this +woman. You don’t. We were at school +together. She was untruthful, dishonest, an evil influence +on every one whose trust or friendship she could win. I +hated, I despised her. She stole things, she was a +thief. She was sent away for being a thief. Why do +you let her influence you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +Gertrude, what you tell me may be true, but it happened many +years ago. It is best forgotten! Mrs. Cheveley may +have changed since then. No one should be entirely judged +by their past.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. +[<i>Sadly</i>.] One’s past is what one is. It +is the only way by which people should be judged.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. That is +a hard saying, Gertrude!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. It is a true +saying, Robert. And what did she mean by boasting that she +had got you to lend your support, your name, to a thing I have +heard you describe as the most dishonest and fraudulent scheme +there has ever been in political life?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Biting his lip</i>.] I was mistaken in the view I +took. We all may make mistakes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. But you told +me yesterday that you had received the report from the +Commission, and that it entirely condemned the whole thing.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Walking up and down</i>.] I have reasons now to believe +that the Commission was prejudiced, or, at any rate, +misinformed. Besides, Gertrude, public and private life are +different things. They have different laws, and move on +different lines.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. They should +both represent man at his highest. I see no difference +between them.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Stopping</i>.] In the present case, on a matter of +practical politics, I have changed my mind. That is +all.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. All!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Sternly</i>.] Yes!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Robert! +Oh! it is horrible that I should have to ask you such a +question—Robert, are you telling me the whole truth?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Why do +you ask me such a question?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>After a +pause</i>.] Why do you not answer it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Sitting down</i>.] Gertrude, truth is a very complex +thing, and politics is a very complex business. There are +wheels within wheels. One may be under certain obligations +to people that one must pay. Sooner or later in political +life one has to compromise. Every one does.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. +Compromise? Robert, why do you talk so differently to-night +from the way I have always heard you talk? Why are you +changed?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I am not +changed. But circumstances alter things.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Circumstances +should never alter principles!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. But if I +told you—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. What?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. That it +was necessary, vitally necessary?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. It can never +be necessary to do what is not honourable. Or if it be +necessary, then what is it that I have loved! But it is +not, Robert; tell me it is not. Why should it be? +What gain would you get? Money? We have no need of +that! And money that comes from a tainted source is a +degradation. Power? But power is nothing in +itself. It is power to do good that is fine—that, and +that only. What is it, then? Robert, tell me why you +are going to do this dishonourable thing!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +Gertrude, you have no right to use that word. I told you it +was a question of rational compromise. It is no more than +that.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Robert, that +is all very well for other men, for men who treat life simply as +a sordid speculation; but not for you, Robert, not for you. +You are different. All your life you have stood apart from +others. You have never let the world soil you. To the +world, as to myself, you have been an ideal always. Oh! be +that ideal still. That great inheritance throw not +away—that tower of ivory do not destroy. Robert, men +can love what is beneath them—things unworthy, stained, +dishonoured. We women worship when we love; and when we +lose our worship, we lose everything. Oh! don’t kill +my love for you, don’t kill that!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +Gertrude!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. I know that +there are men with horrible secrets in their lives—men who +have done some shameful thing, and who in some critical moment +have to pay for it, by doing some other act of shame—oh! +don’t tell me you are such as they are! Robert, is +there in your life any secret dishonour or disgrace? Tell +me, tell me at once, that—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. That +what?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>Speaking +very slowly</i>.] That our lives may drift apart.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Drift +apart?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. That they may +be entirely separate. It would be better for us both.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +Gertrude, there is nothing in my past life that you might not +know.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. I was sure of +it, Robert, I was sure of it. But why did you say those +dreadful things, things so unlike your real self? +Don’t let us ever talk about the subject again. You +will write, won’t you, to Mrs. Cheveley, and tell her that +you cannot support this scandalous scheme of hers? If you +have given her any promise you must take it back, that is +all!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Must I +write and tell her that?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Surely, +Robert! What else is there to do?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I might +see her personally. It would be better.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. You must never +see her again, Robert. She is not a woman you should ever +speak to. She is not worthy to talk to a man like +you. No; you must write to her at once, now, this moment, +and let your letter show her that your decision is quite +irrevocable!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Write +this moment!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. But it +is so late. It is close on twelve.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. That makes no +matter. She must know at once that she has been mistaken in +you—and that you are not a man to do anything base or +underhand or dishonourable. Write here, Robert. Write +that you decline to support this scheme of hers, as you hold it +to be a dishonest scheme. Yes—write the word +dishonest. She knows what that word means. [<span +class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span> <i>sits down and writes +a letter</i>. <i>His wife takes it up and reads +it</i>.] Yes; that will do. [<i>Rings +bell</i>.] And now the envelope. [<i>He writes the +envelope slowly</i>. <i>Enter</i> <span +class="smcap">mason</span>.] Have this letter sent at once +to Claridge’s Hotel. There is no answer. +[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">mason</span>. <span +class="smcap">lady chiltern</span> <i>kneels down beside her +husband</i>, <i>and puts her arms around him</i>.] Robert, +love gives one an instinct to things. I feel to-night that +I have saved you from something that might have been a danger to +you, from something that might have made men honour you less than +they do. I don’t think you realise sufficiently, +Robert, that you have brought into the political life of our time +a nobler atmosphere, a finer attitude towards life, a freer air +of purer aims and higher ideals—I know it, and for that I +love you, Robert.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Oh, love +me always, Gertrude, love me always!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. I will love +you always, because you will always be worthy of love. We +needs must love the highest when we see it! [<i>Kisses him +and rises and goes out</i>.]</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span> <i>walks up +and down for a moment</i>; <i>then sits down and buries his face +in his hands</i>. <i>The Servant enters and begins pulling +out the lights</i>. <span class="smcap">sir robert +chiltern</span> <i>looks up</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Put out +the lights, Mason, put out the lights!</p> + +<p>[<i>The Servant puts out the lights</i>. <i>The room +becomes almost dark</i>. <i>The only light there is comes +from the great chandelier that hangs over the staircase and +illumines the tapestry of the Triumph of Love</i>.]</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Act +Drop.</span></p> +<h2>SECOND ACT</h2> +<h3>SCENE</h3> +<p><i>Morning-room at Sir Robert Chiltern’s house</i>.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">lord goring</span>, <i>dressed in the +height of fashion</i>, <i>is lounging in an armchair</i>. +<span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span> <i>is standing in +front of the fireplace</i>. <i>He is evidently in a state +of great mental excitement and distress</i>. <i>As the +scene progresses he paces nervously up and down the +room</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. My dear Robert, +it’s a very awkward business, very awkward indeed. +You should have told your wife the whole thing. Secrets +from other people’s wives are a necessary luxury in modern +life. So, at least, I am always told at the club by people +who are bald enough to know better. But no man should have +a secret from his own wife. She invariably finds it +out. Women have a wonderful instinct about things. +They can discover everything except the obvious.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Arthur, +I couldn’t tell my wife. When could I have told +her? Not last night. It would have made a life-long +separation between us, and I would have lost the love of the one +woman in the world I worship, of the only woman who has ever +stirred love within me. Last night it would have been quite +impossible. She would have turned from me in horror . . . +in horror and in contempt.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Is Lady Chiltern +as perfect as all that?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Yes; my +wife is as perfect as all that.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Taking off +his left-hand glove</i>.] What a pity! I beg your +pardon, my dear fellow, I didn’t quite mean that. But +if what you tell me is true, I should like to have a serious talk +about life with Lady Chiltern.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. It would +be quite useless.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. May I try?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Yes; but +nothing could make her alter her views.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Well, at the +worst it would simply be a psychological experiment.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. All such +experiments are terribly dangerous.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Everything is +dangerous, my dear fellow. If it wasn’t so, life +wouldn’t be worth living. . . . Well, I am bound to say +that I think you should have told her years ago.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +When? When we were engaged? Do you think she would +have married me if she had known that the origin of my fortune is +such as it is, the basis of my career such as it is, and that I +had done a thing that I suppose most men would call shameful and +dishonourable?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Slowly</i>.] Yes; most men would call it ugly +names. There is no doubt of that.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Bitterly</i>.] Men who every day do something of the +same kind themselves. Men who, each one of them, have worse +secrets in their own lives.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. That is the +reason they are so pleased to find out other people’s +secrets. It distracts public attention from their own.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. And, +after all, whom did I wrong by what I did? No one.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Looking at +him steadily</i>.] Except yourself, Robert.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>After a pause</i>.] Of course I had private information +about a certain transaction contemplated by the Government of the +day, and I acted on it. Private information is practically +the source of every large modern fortune.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Tapping his +boot with his cane</i>.] And public scandal invariably the +result.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Pacing up and down the room</i>.] Arthur, do you think +that what I did nearly eighteen years ago should be brought up +against me now? Do you think it fair that a man’s +whole career should be ruined for a fault done in one’s +boyhood almost? I was twenty-two at the time, and I had the +double misfortune of being well-born and poor, two unforgiveable +things nowadays. Is it fair that the folly, the sin of +one’s youth, if men choose to call it a sin, should wreck a +life like mine, should place me in the pillory, should shatter +all that I have worked for, all that I have built up. Is it +fair, Arthur?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Life is never +fair, Robert. And perhaps it is a good thing for most of us +that it is not.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Every +man of ambition has to fight his century with its own +weapons. What this century worships is wealth. The +God of this century is wealth. To succeed one must have +wealth. At all costs one must have wealth.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You underrate +yourself, Robert. Believe me, without wealth you could have +succeeded just as well.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. When I +was old, perhaps. When I had lost my passion for power, or +could not use it. When I was tired, worn out, +disappointed. I wanted my success when I was young. +Youth is the time for success. I couldn’t wait.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Well, you +certainly have had your success while you are still young. +No one in our day has had such a brilliant success. +Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs at the age of +forty—that’s good enough for any one, I should +think.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. And if +it is all taken away from me now? If I lose everything over +a horrible scandal? If I am hounded from public life?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Robert, how +could you have sold yourself for money?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Excitedly</i>.] I did not sell myself for money. +I bought success at a great price. That is all.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Gravely</i>.] Yes; you certainly paid a great price for +it. But what first made you think of doing such a +thing?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Baron +Arnheim.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Damned +scoundrel!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. No; he +was a man of a most subtle and refined intellect. A man of +culture, charm, and distinction. One of the most +intellectual men I ever met.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Ah! I prefer a +gentlemanly fool any day. There is more to be said for +stupidity than people imagine. Personally I have a great +admiration for stupidity. It is a sort of fellow-feeling, I +suppose. But how did he do it? Tell me the whole +thing.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Throws himself into an armchair by the +writing-table</i>.] One night after dinner at Lord +Radley’s the Baron began talking about success in modern +life as something that one could reduce to an absolutely definite +science. With that wonderfully fascinating quiet voice of +his he expounded to us the most terrible of all philosophies, the +philosophy of power, preached to us the most marvellous of all +gospels, the gospel of gold. I think he saw the effect he +had produced on me, for some days afterwards he wrote and asked +me to come and see him. He was living then in Park Lane, in +the house Lord Woolcomb has now. I remember so well how, +with a strange smile on his pale, curved lips, he led me through +his wonderful picture gallery, showed me his tapestries, his +enamels, his jewels, his carved ivories, made me wonder at the +strange loveliness of the luxury in which he lived; and then told +me that luxury was nothing but a background, a painted scene in a +play, and that power, power over other men, power over the world, +was the one thing worth having, the one supreme pleasure worth +knowing, the one joy one never tired of, and that in our century +only the rich possessed it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>With great +deliberation</i>.] A thoroughly shallow creed.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Rising</i>.] I didn’t think so then. I +don’t think so now. Wealth has given me enormous +power. It gave me at the very outset of my life freedom, +and freedom is everything. You have never been poor, and +never known what ambition is. You cannot understand what a +wonderful chance the Baron gave me. Such a chance as few +men get.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Fortunately for +them, if one is to judge by results. But tell me +definitely, how did the Baron finally persuade you to—well, +to do what you did?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. When I +was going away he said to me that if I ever could give him any +private information of real value he would make me a very rich +man. I was dazed at the prospect he held out to me, and my +ambition and my desire for power were at that time +boundless. Six weeks later certain private documents passed +through my hands.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Keeping his +eyes steadily fixed on the carpet</i>.] State +documents?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +Yes. [<span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>sighs</i>, +<i>then passes his hand across his forehead and looks +up</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I had no idea +that you, of all men in the world, could have been so weak, +Robert, as to yield to such a temptation as Baron Arnheim held +out to you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +Weak? Oh, I am sick of hearing that phrase. Sick of +using it about others. Weak? Do you really think, +Arthur, that it is weakness that yields to temptation? I +tell you that there are terrible temptations that it requires +strength, strength and courage, to yield to. To stake all +one’s life on a single moment, to risk everything on one +throw, whether the stake be power or pleasure, I care +not—there is no weakness in that. There is a +horrible, a terrible courage. I had that courage. I +sat down the same afternoon and wrote Baron Arnheim the letter +this woman now holds. He made three-quarters of a million +over the transaction.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. And you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I +received from the Baron £110,000.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You were worth +more, Robert.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. No; that +money gave me exactly what I wanted, power over others. I +went into the House immediately. The Baron advised me in +finance from time to time. Before five years I had almost +trebled my fortune. Since then everything that I have +touched has turned out a success. In all things connected +with money I have had a luck so extraordinary that sometimes it +has made me almost afraid. I remember having read +somewhere, in some strange book, that when the gods wish to +punish us they answer our prayers.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. But tell me, +Robert, did you never suffer any regret for what you had +done?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +No. I felt that I had fought the century with its own +weapons, and won.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Sadly</i>.] You thought you had won.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I +thought so. [<i>After a long pause</i>.] Arthur, do +you despise me for what I have told you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>With deep +feeling in his voice</i>.] I am very sorry for you, Robert, +very sorry indeed.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I +don’t say that I suffered any remorse. I +didn’t. Not remorse in the ordinary, rather silly +sense of the word. But I have paid conscience money many +times. I had a wild hope that I might disarm destiny. +The sum Baron Arnheim gave me I have distributed twice over in +public charities since then.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Looking +up</i>.] In public charities? Dear me! what a lot of +harm you must have done, Robert!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Oh, +don’t say that, Arthur; don’t talk like that!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Never mind what +I say, Robert! I am always saying what I shouldn’t +say. In fact, I usually say what I really think. A +great mistake nowadays. It makes one so liable to be +misunderstood. As regards this dreadful business, I will +help you in whatever way I can. Of course you know +that.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Thank +you, Arthur, thank you. But what is to be done? What +can be done?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Leaning back +with his hands in his pockets</i>.] Well, the English +can’t stand a man who is always saying he is in the right, +but they are very fond of a man who admits that he has been in +the wrong. It is one of the best things in them. +However, in your case, Robert, a confession would not do. +The money, if you will allow me to say so, is . . . +awkward. Besides, if you did make a clean breast of the +whole affair, you would never be able to talk morality +again. And in England a man who can’t talk morality +twice a week to a large, popular, immoral audience is quite over +as a serious politician. There would be nothing left for +him as a profession except Botany or the Church. A +confession would be of no use. It would ruin you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. It would +ruin me. Arthur, the only thing for me to do now is to +fight the thing out.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Rising from +his chair</i>.] I was waiting for you to say that, +Robert. It is the only thing to do now. And you must +begin by telling your wife the whole story.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. That I +will not do.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Robert, believe +me, you are wrong.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I +couldn’t do it. It would kill her love for me. +And now about this woman, this Mrs. Cheveley. How can I +defend myself against her? You knew her before, Arthur, +apparently.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Did you +know her well?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Arranging +his necktie</i>.] So little that I got engaged to be +married to her once, when I was staying at the +Tenbys’. The affair lasted for three days . . . +nearly.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Why was +it broken off?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Airily</i>.] Oh, I forget. At least, it makes no +matter. By the way, have you tried her with money? +She used to be confoundedly fond of money.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I +offered her any sum she wanted. She refused.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Then the +marvellous gospel of gold breaks down sometimes. The rich +can’t do everything, after all.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Not +everything. I suppose you are right. Arthur, I feel +that public disgrace is in store for me. I feel certain of +it. I never knew what terror was before. I know it +now. It is as if a hand of ice were laid upon one’s +heart. It is as if one’s heart were beating itself to +death in some empty hollow.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Striking the +table</i>.] Robert, you must fight her. You must +fight her.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. But +how?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I can’t +tell you how at present. I have not the smallest +idea. But every one has some weak point. There is +some flaw in each one of us. [<i>Strolls to the fireplace +and looks at himself in the glass</i>.] My father tells me +that even I have faults. Perhaps I have. I +don’t know.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. In +defending myself against Mrs. Cheveley, I have a right to use any +weapon I can find, have I not?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Still +looking in the glass</i>.] In your place I don’t +think I should have the smallest scruple in doing so. She +is thoroughly well able to take care of herself.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. [<i>Sits +down at the table and takes a pen in his hand</i>.] Well, I +shall send a cipher telegram to the Embassy at Vienna, to inquire +if there is anything known against her. There may be some +secret scandal she might be afraid of.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Settling his +buttonhole</i>.] Oh, I should fancy Mrs. Cheveley is one of +those very modern women of our time who find a new scandal as +becoming as a new bonnet, and air them both in the Park every +afternoon at five-thirty. I am sure she adores scandals, +and that the sorrow of her life at present is that she +can’t manage to have enough of them.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Writing</i>.] Why do you say that?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Turning +round</i>.] Well, she wore far too much rouge last night, +and not quite enough clothes. That is always a sign of +despair in a woman.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Striking a bell</i>.] But it is worth while my wiring +to Vienna, is it not?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. It is always +worth while asking a question, though it is not always worth +while answering one.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">mason</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Is Mr. +Trafford in his room?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mason</span>. Yes, Sir Robert.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. [<i>Puts +what he has written into an envelope</i>, <i>which he then +carefully closes</i>.] Tell him to have this sent off in +cipher at once. There must not be a moment’s +delay.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mason</span>. Yes, Sir Robert.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Oh! just +give that back to me again.</p> + +<p>[<i>Writes something on the envelope</i>. <span +class="smcap">mason</span> <i>then goes out with the +letter</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. She must +have had some curious hold over Baron Arnheim. I wonder +what it was.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Smiling</i>.] I wonder.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I will +fight her to the death, as long as my wife knows nothing.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Strongly</i>.] Oh, fight in any case—in any +case.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. [<i>With +a gesture of despair</i>.] If my wife found out, there +would be little left to fight for. Well, as soon as I hear +from Vienna, I shall let you know the result. It is a +chance, just a chance, but I believe in it. And as I fought +the age with its own weapons, I will fight her with her +weapons. It is only fair, and she looks like a woman with a +past, doesn’t she?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Most pretty +women do. But there is a fashion in pasts just as there is +a fashion in frocks. Perhaps Mrs. Cheveley’s past is +merely a slightly décolleté one, and they are +excessively popular nowadays. Besides, my dear Robert, I +should not build too high hopes on frightening Mrs. +Cheveley. I should not fancy Mrs. Cheveley is a woman who +would be easily frightened. She has survived all her +creditors, and she shows wonderful presence of mind.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Oh! I +live on hopes now. I clutch at every chance. I feel +like a man on a ship that is sinking. The water is round my +feet, and the very air is bitter with storm. Hush! I hear +my wife’s voice.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span> <i>in +walking dress</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Good +afternoon, Lord Goring!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Good afternoon, +Lady Chiltern! Have you been in the Park?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. No; I have +just come from the Woman’s Liberal Association, where, by +the way, Robert, your name was received with loud applause, and +now I have come in to have my tea. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">lord goring</span>.] You will wait and have +some tea, won’t you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I’ll wait +for a short time, thanks.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. I will be back +in a moment. I am only going to take my hat off.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>In his most +earnest manner</i>.] Oh! please don’t. It is so +pretty. One of the prettiest hats I ever saw. I hope +the Woman’s Liberal Association received it with loud +applause.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>With a +smile</i>.] We have much more important work to do than +look at each other’s bonnets, Lord Goring.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Really? +What sort of work?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Oh! dull, +useful, delightful things, Factory Acts, Female Inspectors, the +Eight Hours’ Bill, the Parliamentary Franchise. . . . +Everything, in fact, that you would find thoroughly +uninteresting.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. And never +bonnets?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>With mock +indignation</i>.] Never bonnets, never!</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span> <i>goes out through +the door leading to her boudoir</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Takes</i> <span class="smcap">lord goring’s</span> +<i>hand</i>.] You have been a good friend to me, Arthur, a +thoroughly good friend.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I don’t +know that I have been able to do much for you, Robert, as +yet. In fact, I have not been able to do anything for you, +as far as I can see. I am thoroughly disappointed with +myself.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. You have +enabled me to tell you the truth. That is something. +The truth has always stifled me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Ah! the truth is +a thing I get rid of as soon as possible! Bad habit, by the +way. Makes one very unpopular at the club . . . with the +older members. They call it being conceited. Perhaps +it is.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I would +to God that I had been able to tell the truth . . . to live the +truth. Ah! that is the great thing in life, to live the +truth. [<i>Sighs</i>, <i>and goes towards the +door</i>.] I’ll see you soon again, Arthur, +shan’t I?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Certainly. +Whenever you like. I’m going to look in at the +Bachelors’ Ball to-night, unless I find something better to +do. But I’ll come round to-morrow morning. If +you should want me to-night by any chance, send round a note to +Curzon Street.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Thank +you.</p> + +<p>[<i>As he reaches the door</i>, <span class="smcap">lady +chiltern</span> <i>enters from her boudoir</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. You are not +going, Robert?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I have +some letters to write, dear.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>Going to +him</i>.] You work too hard, Robert. You seem never +to think of yourself, and you are looking so tired.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. It is +nothing, dear, nothing.</p> + +<p>[<i>He kisses her and goes out</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>To</i> +<span class="smcap">lord goring</span>.] Do sit down. +I am so glad you have called. I want to talk to you about . +. . well, not about bonnets, or the Woman’s Liberal +Association. You take far too much interest in the first +subject, and not nearly enough in the second.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You want to talk +to me about Mrs. Cheveley?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Yes. You +have guessed it. After you left last night I found out that +what she had said was really true. Of course I made Robert +write her a letter at once, withdrawing his promise.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. So he gave me to +understand.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. To have kept +it would have been the first stain on a career that has been +stainless always. Robert must be above reproach. He +is not like other men. He cannot afford to do what other +men do. [<i>She looks at</i> <span class="smcap">lord +goring</span>, <i>who remains silent</i>.] Don’t you +agree with me? You are Robert’s greatest +friend. You are our greatest friend, Lord Goring. No +one, except myself, knows Robert better than you do. He has +no secrets from me, and I don’t think he has any from +you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. He certainly has +no secrets from me. At least I don’t think so.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Then am I not +right in my estimate of him? I know I am right. But +speak to me frankly.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Looking +straight at her</i>.] Quite frankly?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Surely. +You have nothing to conceal, have you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Nothing. +But, my dear Lady Chiltern, I think, if you will allow me to say +so, that in practical life—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. +[<i>Smiling</i>.] Of which you know so little, Lord +Goring—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Of which I know +nothing by experience, though I know something by +observation. I think that in practical life there is +something about success, actual success, that is a little +unscrupulous, something about ambition that is unscrupulous +always. Once a man has set his heart and soul on getting to +a certain point, if he has to climb the crag, he climbs the crag; +if he has to walk in the mire—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Well?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. He walks in the +mire. Of course I am only talking generally about life.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. +[<i>Gravely</i>.] I hope so. Why do you look at me so +strangely, Lord Goring?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Lady Chiltern, I +have sometimes thought that . . . perhaps you are a little hard +in some of your views on life. I think that . . . often you +don’t make sufficient allowances. In every nature +there are elements of weakness, or worse than weakness. +Supposing, for instance, that—that any public man, my +father, or Lord Merton, or Robert, say, had, years ago, written +some foolish letter to some one . . .</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. What do you +mean by a foolish letter?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. A letter gravely +compromising one’s position. I am only putting an +imaginary case.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Robert is as +incapable of doing a foolish thing as he is of doing a wrong +thing.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>After a long +pause</i>.] Nobody is incapable of doing a foolish +thing. Nobody is incapable of doing a wrong thing.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Are you a +Pessimist? What will the other dandies say? They will +all have to go into mourning.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Rising</i>.] No, Lady Chiltern, I am not a +Pessimist. Indeed I am not sure that I quite know what +Pessimism really means. All I do know is that life cannot +be understood without much charity, cannot be lived without much +charity. It is love, and not German philosophy, that is the +true explanation of this world, whatever may be the explanation +of the next. And if you are ever in trouble, Lady Chiltern, +trust me absolutely, and I will help you in every way I +can. If you ever want me, come to me for my assistance, and +you shall have it. Come at once to me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>Looking at +him in surprise</i>.] Lord Goring, you are talking quite +seriously. I don’t think I ever heard you talk +seriously before.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Laughing</i>.] You must excuse me, Lady Chiltern. +It won’t occur again, if I can help it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. But I like you +to be serious.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>, <i>in +the most ravishing frock</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Dear +Gertrude, don’t say such a dreadful thing to Lord +Goring. Seriousness would be very unbecoming to him. +Good afternoon Lord Goring! Pray be as trivial as you +can.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I should like +to, Miss Mabel, but I am afraid I am . . . a little out of +practice this morning; and besides, I have to be going now.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Just when I +have come in! What dreadful manners you have! I am +sure you were very badly brought up.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I was.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. I wish I had +brought you up!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I am so sorry +you didn’t.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. It is too +late now, I suppose?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Smiling</i>.] I am not so sure.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Will you ride +to-morrow morning?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes, at ten.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Don’t +forget.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Of course I +shan’t. By the way, Lady Chiltern, there is no list +of your guests in <i>The Morning Post</i> of to-day. It has +apparently been crowded out by the County Council, or the Lambeth +Conference, or something equally boring. Could you let me +have a list? I have a particular reason for asking you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. I am sure Mr. +Trafford will be able to give you one.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Thanks, so +much.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Tommy is the +most useful person in London.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span> [<i>Turning to +her</i>.] And who is the most ornamental?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span> +[<i>Triumphantly</i>.] I am.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. How clever of +you to guess it! [<i>Takes up his hat and cane</i>.] +Good-bye, Lady Chiltern! You will remember what I said to +you, won’t you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Yes; but I +don’t know why you said it to me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I hardly know +myself. Good-bye, Miss Mabel!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span> [<i>With a little +moue of disappointment</i>.] I wish you were not +going. I have had four wonderful adventures this morning; +four and a half, in fact. You might stop and listen to some +of them.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. How very selfish +of you to have four and a half! There won’t be any +left for me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. I don’t +want you to have any. They would not be good for you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. That is the +first unkind thing you have ever said to me. How charmingly +you said it! Ten to-morrow.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Sharp.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Quite +sharp. But don’t bring Mr. Trafford.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. [<i>With a +little toss of the head</i>.] Of course I shan’t +bring Tommy Trafford. Tommy Trafford is in great +disgrace.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I am delighted +to hear it. [<i>Bows and goes out</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Gertrude, I +wish you would speak to Tommy Trafford.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. What has poor +Mr. Trafford done this time? Robert says he is the best +secretary he has ever had.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Well, Tommy +has proposed to me again. Tommy really does nothing but +propose to me. He proposed to me last night in the +music-room, when I was quite unprotected, as there was an +elaborate trio going on. I didn’t dare to make the +smallest repartee, I need hardly tell you. If I had, it +would have stopped the music at once. Musical people are so +absurdly unreasonable. They always want one to be perfectly +dumb at the very moment when one is longing to be absolutely +deaf. Then he proposed to me in broad daylight this +morning, in front of that dreadful statue of Achilles. +Really, the things that go on in front of that work of art are +quite appalling. The police should interfere. At +luncheon I saw by the glare in his eye that he was going to +propose again, and I just managed to check him in time by +assuring him that I was a bimetallist. Fortunately I +don’t know what bimetallism means. And I don’t +believe anybody else does either. But the observation +crushed Tommy for ten minutes. He looked quite +shocked. And then Tommy is so annoying in the way he +proposes. If he proposed at the top of his voice, I should +not mind so much. That might produce some effect on the +public. But he does it in a horrid confidential way. +When Tommy wants to be romantic he talks to one just like a +doctor. I am very fond of Tommy, but his methods of +proposing are quite out of date. I wish, Gertrude, you +would speak to him, and tell him that once a week is quite often +enough to propose to any one, and that it should always be done +in a manner that attracts some attention.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Dear Mabel, +don’t talk like that. Besides, Robert thinks very +highly of Mr. Trafford. He believes he has a brilliant +future before him.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Oh! I +wouldn’t marry a man with a future before him for anything +under the sun.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Mabel!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. I know, +dear. You married a man with a future, didn’t +you? But then Robert was a genius, and you have a noble, +self-sacrificing character. You can stand geniuses. I +have no character at all, and Robert is the only genius I could +ever bear. As a rule, I think they are quite +impossible. Geniuses talk so much, don’t they? +Such a bad habit! And they are always thinking about +themselves, when I want them to be thinking about me. I +must go round now and rehearse at Lady Basildon’s. +You remember, we are having tableaux, don’t you? The +Triumph of something, I don’t know what! I hope it +will be triumph of me. Only triumph I am really interested +in at present. [<i>Kisses</i> <span class="smcap">lady +chiltern</span> <i>and goes out</i>; <i>then comes running +back</i>.] Oh, Gertrude, do you know who is coming to see +you? That dreadful Mrs. Cheveley, in a most lovely +gown. Did you ask her?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. +[<i>Rising</i>.] Mrs. Cheveley! Coming to see +me? Impossible!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. I assure you +she is coming upstairs, as large as life and not nearly so +natural.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. You need not +wait, Mabel. Remember, Lady Basildon is expecting you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Oh! I must +shake hands with Lady Markby. She is delightful. I +love being scolded by her.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">mason</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mason</span>. Lady Markby. +Mrs. Cheveley.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">lady markby</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>Advancing +to meet them</i>.] Dear Lady Markby, how nice of you to +come and see me! [<i>Shakes hands with her</i>, <i>and bows +somewhat distantly to</i> <span class="smcap">mrs. +cheveley</span>.] Won’t you sit down, Mrs. +Cheveley?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Thanks. +Isn’t that Miss Chiltern? I should like so much to +know her.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Mabel, Mrs. +Cheveley wishes to know you.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span> <i>gives a little +nod</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> [<i>Sitting +down</i>.] I thought your frock so charming last night, +Miss Chiltern. So simple and . . . suitable.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Really? +I must tell my dressmaker. It will be such a surprise to +her. Good-bye, Lady Markby!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Going +already?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. I am so sorry +but I am obliged to. I am just off to rehearsal. I +have got to stand on my head in some tableaux.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. On your head, +child? Oh! I hope not. I believe it is most +unhealthy. [<i>Takes a seat on the sofa next</i> <span +class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. But it is for +an excellent charity: in aid of the Undeserving, the only people +I am really interested in. I am the secretary, and Tommy +Trafford is treasurer.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. And what is +Lord Goring?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Oh! Lord +Goring is president.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. The post +should suit him admirably, unless he has deteriorated since I +knew him first.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. +[<i>Reflecting</i>.] You are remarkably modern, +Mabel. A little too modern, perhaps. Nothing is so +dangerous as being too modern. One is apt to grow +old-fashioned quite suddenly. I have known many instances +of it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. What a +dreadful prospect!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Ah! my dear, you +need not be nervous. You will always be as pretty as +possible. That is the best fashion there is, and the only +fashion that England succeeds in setting.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. [<i>With a +curtsey</i>.] Thank you so much, Lady Markby, for England . +. . and myself. [<i>Goes out</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. [<i>Turning +to</i> <span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>.] Dear +Gertrude, we just called to know if Mrs. Cheveley’s diamond +brooch has been found.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Here?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Yes. I +missed it when I got back to Claridge’s, and I thought I +might possibly have dropped it here.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. I have heard +nothing about it. But I will send for the butler and +ask. [<i>Touches the bell</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Oh, pray +don’t trouble, Lady Chiltern. I dare say I lost it at +the Opera, before we came on here.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Ah yes, I +suppose it must have been at the Opera. The fact is, we all +scramble and jostle so much nowadays that I wonder we have +anything at all left on us at the end of an evening. I know +myself that, when I am coming back from the Drawing Room, I +always feel as if I hadn’t a shred on me, except a small +shred of decent reputation, just enough to prevent the lower +classes making painful observations through the windows of the +carriage. The fact is that our Society is terribly +over-populated. Really, some one should arrange a proper +scheme of assisted emigration. It would do a great deal of +good.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I quite agree +with you, Lady Markby. It is nearly six years since I have +been in London for the Season, and I must say Society has become +dreadfully mixed. One sees the oddest people +everywhere.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. That is quite +true, dear. But one needn’t know them. +I’m sure I don’t know half the people who come to my +house. Indeed, from all I hear, I shouldn’t like +to.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">mason</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. What sort of a +brooch was it that you lost, Mrs. Cheveley?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. A diamond +snake-brooch with a ruby, a rather large ruby.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. I thought you +said there was a sapphire on the head, dear?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> +[<i>Smiling</i>.] No, lady Markby—a ruby.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. [<i>Nodding her +head</i>.] And very becoming, I am quite sure.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Has a ruby and +diamond brooch been found in any of the rooms this morning, +Mason?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mason</span>. No, my lady.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. It really is +of no consequence, Lady Chiltern. I am so sorry to have put +you to any inconvenience.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. +[<i>Coldly</i>.] Oh, it has been no inconvenience. +That will do, Mason. You can bring tea.</p> + +<p>[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">mason</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Well, I must say +it is most annoying to lose anything. I remember once at +Bath, years ago, losing in the Pump Room an exceedingly handsome +cameo bracelet that Sir John had given me. I don’t +think he has ever given me anything since, I am sorry to +say. He has sadly degenerated. Really, this horrid +House of Commons quite ruins our husbands for us. I think +the Lower House by far the greatest blow to a happy married life +that there has been since that terrible thing called the Higher +Education of Women was invented.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Ah! it is +heresy to say that in this house, Lady Markby. Robert is a +great champion of the Higher Education of Women, and so, I am +afraid, am I.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. The higher +education of men is what I should like to see. Men need it +so sadly.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. They do, +dear. But I am afraid such a scheme would be quite +unpractical. I don’t think man has much capacity for +development. He has got as far as he can, and that is not +far, is it? With regard to women, well, dear Gertrude, you +belong to the younger generation, and I am sure it is all right +if you approve of it. In my time, of course, we were taught +not to understand anything. That was the old system, and +wonderfully interesting it was. I assure you that the +amount of things I and my poor dear sister were taught not to +understand was quite extraordinary. But modern women +understand everything, I am told.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Except their +husbands. That is the one thing the modern woman never +understands.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. And a very good +thing too, dear, I dare say. It might break up many a happy +home if they did. Not yours, I need hardly say, +Gertrude. You have married a pattern husband. I wish +I could say as much for myself. But since Sir John has +taken to attending the debates regularly, which he never used to +do in the good old days, his language has become quite +impossible. He always seems to think that he is addressing +the House, and consequently whenever he discusses the state of +the agricultural labourer, or the Welsh Church, or something +quite improper of that kind, I am obliged to send all the +servants out of the room. It is not pleasant to see +one’s own butler, who has been with one for twenty-three +years, actually blushing at the side-board, and the footmen +making contortions in corners like persons in circuses. I +assure you my life will be quite ruined unless they send John at +once to the Upper House. He won’t take any interest +in politics then, will he? The House of Lords is so +sensible. An assembly of gentlemen. But in his +present state, Sir John is really a great trial. Why, this +morning before breakfast was half over, he stood up on the +hearthrug, put his hands in his pockets, and appealed to the +country at the top of his voice. I left the table as soon +as I had my second cup of tea, I need hardly say. But his +violent language could be heard all over the house! I +trust, Gertrude, that Sir Robert is not like that?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. But I am very +much interested in politics, Lady Markby. I love to hear +Robert talk about them.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Well, I hope he +is not as devoted to Blue Books as Sir John is. I +don’t think they can be quite improving reading for any +one.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> +[<i>Languidly</i>.] I have never read a Blue Book. I +prefer books . . . in yellow covers.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. [<i>Genially +unconscious</i>.] Yellow is a gayer colour, is it +not? I used to wear yellow a good deal in my early days, +and would do so now if Sir John was not so painfully personal in +his observations, and a man on the question of dress is always +ridiculous, is he not?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Oh, no! +I think men are the only authorities on dress.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Really? +One wouldn’t say so from the sort of hats they wear? would +one?</p> + +<p>[<i>The butler enters</i>, <i>followed by the +footman</i>. <i>Tea is set on a small table close to</i> +<span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. May I give you +some tea, Mrs. Cheveley?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Thanks. +[<i>The butler hands</i> <span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> +<i>a cup of tea on a salver</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Some tea, Lady +Markby?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. No thanks, +dear. [<i>The servants go out</i>.] The fact is, I +have promised to go round for ten minutes to see poor Lady +Brancaster, who is in very great trouble. Her daughter, +quite a well-brought-up girl, too, has actually become engaged to +be married to a curate in Shropshire. It is very sad, very +sad indeed. I can’t understand this modern mania for +curates. In my time we girls saw them, of course, running +about the place like rabbits. But we never took any notice +of them, I need hardly say. But I am told that nowadays +country society is quite honeycombed with them. I think it +most irreligious. And then the eldest son has quarrelled +with his father, and it is said that when they meet at the club +Lord Brancaster always hides himself behind the money article in +<i>The Times</i>. However, I believe that is quite a common +occurrence nowadays and that they have to take in extra copies of +<i>The Times</i> at all the clubs in St. James’s Street; +there are so many sons who won’t have anything to do with +their fathers, and so many fathers who won’t speak to their +sons. I think myself, it is very much to be regretted.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. So do I. +Fathers have so much to learn from their sons nowadays.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Really, +dear? What?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. The art of +living. The only really Fine Art we have produced in modern +times.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. [<i>Shaking her +head</i>.] Ah! I am afraid Lord Brancaster knew a +good deal about that. More than his poor wife ever +did. [<i>Turning to</i> <span class="smcap">lady +chiltern</span>.] You know Lady Brancaster, don’t +you, dear?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Just +slightly. She was staying at Langton last autumn, when we +were there.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Well, like all +stout women, she looks the very picture of happiness, as no doubt +you noticed. But there are many tragedies in her family, +besides this affair of the curate. Her own sister, Mrs. +Jekyll, had a most unhappy life; through no fault of her own, I +am sorry to say. She ultimately was so broken-hearted that +she went into a convent, or on to the operatic stage, I forget +which. No; I think it was decorative art-needlework she +took up. I know she had lost all sense of pleasure in +life. [<i>Rising</i>.] And now, Gertrude, if you will +allow me, I shall leave Mrs. Cheveley in your charge and call +back for her in a quarter of an hour. Or perhaps, dear Mrs. +Cheveley, you wouldn’t mind waiting in the carriage while I +am with Lady Brancaster. As I intend it to be a visit of +condolence, I shan’t stay long.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> +[<i>Rising</i>.] I don’t mind waiting in the carriage +at all, provided there is somebody to look at one.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Well, I hear the +curate is always prowling about the house.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I am afraid I +am not fond of girl friends.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span> +[<i>Rising</i>.] Oh, I hope Mrs. Cheveley will stay here a +little. I should like to have a few minutes’ +conversation with her.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. How very kind +of you, Lady Chiltern! Believe me, nothing would give me +greater pleasure.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Ah! no doubt you +both have many pleasant reminiscences of your schooldays to talk +over together. Good-bye, dear Gertrude! Shall I see +you at Lady Bonar’s to-night? She has discovered a +wonderful new genius. He does . . . nothing at all, I +believe. That is a great comfort, is it not?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Robert and I +are dining at home by ourselves to-night, and I don’t think +I shall go anywhere afterwards. Robert, of course, will +have to be in the House. But there is nothing interesting +on.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady markby</span>. Dining at home +by yourselves? Is that quite prudent? Ah, I forgot, +your husband is an exception. Mine is the general rule, and +nothing ages a woman so rapidly as having married the general +rule. [<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">lady +markby</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Wonderful +woman, Lady Markby, isn’t she? Talks more and says +less than anybody I ever met. She is made to be a public +speaker. Much more so than her husband, though he is a +typical Englishman, always dull and usually violent.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>Makes no +answer</i>, <i>but remains standing</i>. <i>There is a +pause</i>. <i>Then the eyes of the two women +meet</i>. <span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span> <i>looks +stern and pale</i>. <span class="smcap">mrs. +cheveley</span> <i>seem rather amused</i>.] Mrs. Cheveley, +I think it is right to tell you quite frankly that, had I known +who you really were, I should not have invited you to my house +last night.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> [<i>With an +impertinent smile</i>.] Really?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. I could not +have done so.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I see that +after all these years you have not changed a bit, Gertrude.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. I never +change.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> [<i>Elevating her +eyebrows</i>.] Then life has taught you nothing?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. It has taught +me that a person who has once been guilty of a dishonest and +dishonourable action may be guilty of it a second time, and +should be shunned.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Would you +apply that rule to every one?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Yes, to every +one, without exception.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Then I am +sorry for you, Gertrude, very sorry for you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. You see now, I +was sure, that for many reasons any further acquaintance between +us during your stay in London is quite impossible?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> [<i>Leaning back in +her chair</i>.] Do you know, Gertrude, I don’t mind +your talking morality a bit. Morality is simply the +attitude we adopt towards people whom we personally +dislike. You dislike me. I am quite aware of +that. And I have always detested you. And yet I have +come here to do you a service.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. +[<i>Contemptuously</i>.] Like the service you wished to +render my husband last night, I suppose. Thank heaven, I +saved him from that.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Starting +to her feet</i>.] It was you who made him write that +insolent letter to me? It was you who made him break his +promise?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Then you must +make him keep it. I give you till to-morrow +morning—no more. If by that time your husband does +not solemnly bind himself to help me in this great scheme in +which I am interested—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. This +fraudulent speculation—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Call it what +you choose. I hold your husband in the hollow of my hand, +and if you are wise you will make him do what I tell him.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>Rising and +going towards her</i>.] You are impertinent. What has +my husband to do with you? With a woman like you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> [<i>With a bitter +laugh</i>.] In this world like meets with like. It is +because your husband is himself fraudulent and dishonest that we +pair so well together. Between you and him there are +chasms. He and I are closer than friends. We are +enemies linked together. The same sin binds us.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. How dare you +class my husband with yourself? How dare you threaten him +or me? Leave my house. You are unfit to enter it.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span> <i>enters from +behind</i>. <i>He hears his wife’s last words</i>, +<i>and sees to whom they are addressed</i>. <i>He grows +deadly pale</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Your +house! A house bought with the price of dishonour. A +house, everything in which has been paid for by fraud. +[<i>Turns round and sees</i> <span class="smcap">sir robert +chiltern</span>.] Ask him what the origin of his fortune +is! Get him to tell you how he sold to a stockbroker a +Cabinet secret. Learn from him to what you owe your +position.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. It is not +true! Robert! It is not true!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Pointing +at him with outstretched finger</i>.] Look at him! +Can he deny it? Does he dare to?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +Go! Go at once. You have done your worst now.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. My +worst? I have not yet finished with you, with either of +you. I give you both till to-morrow at noon. If by +then you don’t do what I bid you to do, the whole world +shall know the origin of Robert Chiltern.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span> <i>strikes the +bell</i>. <i>Enter</i> <span +class="smcap">mason</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Show +Mrs. Cheveley out.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> <i>starts</i>; +<i>then bows with somewhat exaggerated politeness to</i> <span +class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>, <i>who makes no sign of +response</i>. <i>As she passes by</i> <span +class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>, <i>who is standing +close to the door</i>, <i>she pauses for a moment and looks him +straight in the face</i>. <i>She then goes out</i>, +<i>followed by the servant</i>, <i>who closes the door after +him</i>. <i>The husband and wife are left alone</i>. +<span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span> <i>stands like some one +in a dreadful dream</i>. <i>Then she turns round and looks +at her husband</i>. <i>She looks at him with strange +eyes</i>, <i>as though she were seeing him for the first +time</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. You sold a +Cabinet secret for money! You began your life with +fraud! You built up your career on dishonour! Oh, +tell me it is not true! Lie to me! Lie to me! +Tell me it is not true!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. What +this woman said is quite true. But, Gertrude, listen to +me. You don’t realise how I was tempted. Let me +tell you the whole thing. [<i>Goes towards her</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Don’t +come near me. Don’t touch me. I feel as if you +had soiled me for ever. Oh! what a mask you have been +wearing all these years! A horrible painted mask! You +sold yourself for money. Oh! a common thief were +better. You put yourself up to sale to the highest +bidder! You were bought in the market. You lied to +the whole world. And yet you will not lie to me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Rushing towards her</i>.] Gertrude! Gertrude!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>Thrusting +him back with outstretched hands</i>.] No, don’t +speak! Say nothing! Your voice wakes terrible +memories—memories of things that made me love +you—memories of words that made me love you—memories +that now are horrible to me. And how I worshipped +you! You were to me something apart from common life, a +thing pure, noble, honest, without stain. The world seemed +to me finer because you were in it, and goodness more real +because you lived. And now—oh, when I think that I +made of a man like you my ideal! the ideal of my life!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. There +was your mistake. There was your error. The error all +women commit. Why can’t you women love us, faults and +all? Why do you place us on monstrous pedestals? We +have all feet of clay, women as well as men; but when we men love +women, we love them knowing their weaknesses, their follies, +their imperfections, love them all the more, it may be, for that +reason. It is not the perfect, but the imperfect, who have +need of love. It is when we are wounded by our own hands, +or by the hands of others, that love should come to cure +us—else what use is love at all? All sins, except a +sin against itself, Love should forgive. All lives, save +loveless lives, true Love should pardon. A man’s love +is like that. It is wider, larger, more human than a +woman’s. Women think that they are making ideals of +men. What they are making of us are false idols +merely. You made your false idol of me, and I had not the +courage to come down, show you my wounds, tell you my +weaknesses. I was afraid that I might lose your love, as I +have lost it now. And so, last night you ruined my life for +me—yes, ruined it! What this woman asked of me was +nothing compared to what she offered to me. She offered +security, peace, stability. The sin of my youth, that I had +thought was buried, rose up in front of me, hideous, horrible, +with its hands at my throat. I could have killed it for +ever, sent it back into its tomb, destroyed its record, burned +the one witness against me. You prevented me. No one +but you, you know it. And now what is there before me but +public disgrace, ruin, terrible shame, the mockery of the world, +a lonely dishonoured life, a lonely dishonoured death, it may be, +some day? Let women make no more ideals of men! let them +not put them on altars and bow before them, or they may ruin +other lives as completely as you—you whom I have so wildly +loved—have ruined mine!</p> + +<p>[<i>He passes from the room</i>. <span +class="smcap">lady chiltern</span> <i>rushes towards him</i>, +<i>but the door is closed when she reaches it</i>. <i>Pale +with anguish</i>, <i>bewildered</i>, <i>helpless</i>, <i>she +sways like a plant in the water</i>. <i>Her hands</i>, +<i>outstretched</i>, <i>seem to tremble in the air like blossoms +in the wind</i>. <i>Then she flings herself down beside a +sofa and buries her face</i>. <i>Her sobs are like the sobs +of a child</i>.]</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Act +Drop.</span></p> +<h2>THIRD ACT</h2> +<h3>SCENE</h3> +<p><i>The Library in Lord Goring’s house</i>. <i>An +Adam room</i>. <i>On the right is the door leading into the +hall</i>. <i>On the left</i>, <i>the door of the +smoking-room</i>. <i>A pair of folding doors at the back +open into the drawing-room</i>. <i>The fire is +lit</i>. <i>Phipps</i>, <i>the butler</i>, <i>is arranging +some newspapers on the writing-table</i>. <i>The +distinction of Phipps is his impassivity</i>. <i>He has been +termed by enthusiasts the Ideal Butler</i>. <i>The Sphinx +is not so incommunicable</i>. <i>He is a mask with a +manner</i>. <i>Of his intellectual or emotional life</i>, +<i>history knows nothing</i>. <i>He represents the +dominance of form</i>.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>in +evening dress with a buttonhole</i>. <i>He is wearing a +silk hat and Inverness cape</i>. <i>White-gloved</i>, <i>he +carries a Louis Seize cane</i>. <i>His are all the delicate +fopperies of Fashion</i>. <i>One sees that he stands in +immediate relation to modern life</i>, <i>makes it indeed</i>, +<i>and so masters it</i>. <i>He is the first well-dressed +philosopher in the history of thought</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Got my second +buttonhole for me, Phipps?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord. +[<i>Takes his hat</i>, <i>cane</i>, <i>and cape</i>, <i>and +presents new buttonhole on salver</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Rather +distinguished thing, Phipps. I am the only person of the +smallest importance in London at present who wears a +buttonhole.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord. I +have observed that.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Taking out +old buttonhole</i>.] You see, Phipps, Fashion is what one +wears oneself. What is unfashionable is what other people +wear.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Just as +vulgarity is simply the conduct of other people.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Putting in a +new buttonhole</i>.] And falsehoods the truths of other +people.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Other people are +quite dreadful. The only possible society is oneself.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. To love oneself +is the beginning of a lifelong romance, Phipps.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Looking at +himself in the glass</i>.] Don’t think I quite like +this buttonhole, Phipps. Makes me look a little too +old. Makes me almost in the prime of life, eh, Phipps?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. I don’t observe +any alteration in your lordship’s appearance.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You don’t, +Phipps?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. No, my lord.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I am not quite +sure. For the future a more trivial buttonhole, Phipps, on +Thursday evenings.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. I will speak to the +florist, my lord. She has had a loss in her family lately, +which perhaps accounts for the lack of triviality your lordship +complains of in the buttonhole.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Extraordinary +thing about the lower classes in England—they are always +losing their relations.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord! +They are extremely fortunate in that respect.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Turns round +and looks at him</i>. <span class="smcap">phipps</span> +<i>remains impassive</i>.] Hum! Any letters, +Phipps?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Three, my lord. +[<i>Hands letters on a salver</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Takes +letters</i>.] Want my cab round in twenty minutes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord. +[<i>Goes towards door</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Holds up +letter in pink envelope</i>.] Ahem! Phipps, when did +this letter arrive?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. It was brought by +hand just after your lordship went to the club.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. That will +do. [<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">phipps</span>.] +Lady Chiltern’s handwriting on Lady Chiltern’s pink +notepaper. That is rather curious. I thought Robert +was to write. Wonder what Lady Chiltern has got to say to +me? [<i>Sits at bureau and opens letter</i>, <i>and reads +it</i>.] ‘I want you. I trust you. I am +coming to you. Gertrude.’ [<i>Puts down the +letter with a puzzled look</i>. <i>Then takes it up</i>, +<i>and reads it again slowly</i>.] ‘I want you. +I trust you. I am coming to you.’ So she has +found out everything! Poor woman! Poor woman! [ +<i>Pulls out watch and looks at it</i>.] But what an hour +to call! Ten o’clock! I shall have to give up +going to the Berkshires. However, it is always nice to be +expected, and not to arrive. I am not expected at the +Bachelors’, so I shall certainly go there. Well, I +will make her stand by her husband. That is the only thing +for her to do. That is the only thing for any woman to +do. It is the growth of the moral sense in women that makes +marriage such a hopeless, one-sided institution. Ten +o’clock. She should be here soon. I must tell +Phipps I am not in to any one else. [<i>Goes towards +bell</i>.]</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">phipps</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Lord Caversham.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Oh, why will +parents always appear at the wrong time? Some extraordinary +mistake in nature, I suppose. [<i>Enter</i> <span +class="smcap">lord caversham</span>.] Delighted to see you, +my dear father. [<i>Goes to meet him</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Take my cloak +off.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Is it worth +while, father?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Of course it +is worth while, sir. Which is the most comfortable +chair?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. This one, +father. It is the chair I use myself, when I have +visitors.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Thank +ye. No draught, I hope, in this room?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. No, father.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. [<i>Sitting +down</i>.] Glad to hear it. Can’t stand +draughts. No draughts at home.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Good many +breezes, father.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Eh? +Eh? Don’t understand what you mean. Want to +have a serious conversation with you, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. My dear +father! At this hour?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Well, sir, it +is only ten o’clock. What is your objection to the +hour? I think the hour is an admirable hour!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Well, the fact +is, father, this is not my day for talking seriously. I am +very sorry, but it is not my day.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. What do you +mean, sir?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. During the +Season, father, I only talk seriously on the first Tuesday in +every month, from four to seven.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Well, make it +Tuesday, sir, make it Tuesday.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. But it is after +seven, father, and my doctor says I must not have any serious +conversation after seven. It makes me talk in my sleep.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Talk in your +sleep, sir? What does that matter? You are not +married.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. No, father, I am +not married.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Hum! +That is what I have come to talk to you about, sir. You +have got to get married, and at once. Why, when I was your +age, sir, I had been an inconsolable widower for three months, +and was already paying my addresses to your admirable +mother. Damme, sir, it is your duty to get married. +You can’t be always living for pleasure. Every man of +position is married nowadays. Bachelors are not fashionable +any more. They are a damaged lot. Too much is known +about them. You must get a wife, sir. Look where your +friend Robert Chiltern has got to by probity, hard work, and a +sensible marriage with a good woman. Why don’t you +imitate him, sir? Why don’t you take him for your +model?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I think I shall, +father.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. I wish you +would, sir. Then I should be happy. At present I make +your mother’s life miserable on your account. You are +heartless, sir, quite heartless.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I hope not, +father.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. And it is +high time for you to get married. You are thirty-four years +of age, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes, father, but +I only admit to thirty-two—thirty-one and a half when I +have a really good buttonhole. This buttonhole is not . . . +trivial enough.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. I tell you +you are thirty-four, sir. And there is a draught in your +room, besides, which makes your conduct worse. Why did you +tell me there was no draught, sir? I feel a draught, sir, I +feel it distinctly.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. So do I, +father. It is a dreadful draught. I will come and see +you to-morrow, father. We can talk over anything you +like. Let me help you on with your cloak, father.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. No, sir; I +have called this evening for a definite purpose, and I am going +to see it through at all costs to my health or yours. Put +down my cloak, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Certainly, +father. But let us go into another room. [<i>Rings +bell</i>.] There is a dreadful draught here. +[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">phipps</span>.] Phipps, +is there a good fire in the smoking-room?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Come in there, +father. Your sneezes are quite heartrending.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Well, sir, I +suppose I have a right to sneeze when I choose?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Apologetically</i>.] Quite so, father. I was +merely expressing sympathy.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Oh, damn +sympathy. There is a great deal too much of that sort of +thing going on nowadays.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I quite agree +with you, father. If there was less sympathy in the world +there would be less trouble in the world.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. [<i>Going +towards the smoking-room</i>.] That is a paradox, +sir. I hate paradoxes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. So do I, +father. Everybody one meets is a paradox nowadays. It +is a great bore. It makes society so obvious.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. [<i>Turning +round</i>, <i>and looking at his son beneath his bushy +eyebrows</i>.] Do you always really understand what you +say, sir?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>After some +hesitation</i>.] Yes, father, if I listen attentively.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. +[<i>Indignantly</i>.] If you listen attentively! . . . +Conceited young puppy!</p> + +<p>[<i>Goes off grumbling into the smoking-room</i>. <span +class="smcap">phipps</span> <i>enters</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Phipps, there is +a lady coming to see me this evening on particular +business. Show her into the drawing-room when she +arrives. You understand?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. It is a matter +of the gravest importance, Phipps.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. I understand, my +lord.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. No one else is +to be admitted, under any circumstances.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. I understand, my +lord. [<i>Bell rings</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Ah! that is +probably the lady. I shall see her myself.</p> + +<p>[<i>Just as he is going towards the door</i> <span +class="smcap">lord caversham</span> <i>enters from the +smoking-room</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Well, sir? am +I to wait attendance on you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Considerably +perplexed</i>.] In a moment, father. Do excuse +me. [<span class="smcap">lord caversham</span> <i>goes +back</i>.] Well, remember my instructions, +Phipps—into that room.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>goes into the +smoking-room</i>. <span class="smcap">harold</span>, <i>the +footman shows</i> <span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> +<i>in</i>. <i>Lamia-like</i>, <i>she is in green and +silver</i>. <i>She has a cloak of black satin</i>, <i>lined +with dead rose-leaf silk</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">harold</span>. What name, madam?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>To</i> +<span class="smcap">phipps</span>, <i>who advances towards +her</i>.] Is Lord Goring not here? I was told he was +at home?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. His lordship is +engaged at present with Lord Caversham, madam.</p> + +<p>[<i>Turns a cold</i>, <i>glassy eye on</i> <span +class="smcap">harold</span>, <i>who at once retires</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>To +herself</i>.] How very filial!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. His lordship told me +to ask you, madam, to be kind enough to wait in the drawing-room +for him. His lordship will come to you there.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>With a +look of surprise</i>.] Lord Goring expects me?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, madam.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Are you quite +sure?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. His lordship told me +that if a lady called I was to ask her to wait in the +drawing-room. [<i>Goes to the door of the drawing-room and +opens it</i>.] His lordship’s directions on the +subject were very precise.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>To +herself</i>] How thoughtful of him! To expect the +unexpected shows a thoroughly modern intellect. [<i>Goes +towards the drawing-room and looks in</i>.] Ugh! How +dreary a bachelor’s drawing-room always looks. I +shall have to alter all this. [<span +class="smcap">phipps</span> <i>brings the lamp from the +writing-table</i>.] No, I don’t care for that +lamp. It is far too glaring. Light some candles.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. [<i>Replaces +lamp</i>.] Certainly, madam.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I hope the +candles have very becoming shades.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. We have had no +complaints about them, madam, as yet.</p> + +<p>[<i>Passes into the drawing-room and begins to light the +candles</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>To +herself</i>.] I wonder what woman he is waiting for +to-night. It will be delightful to catch him. Men +always look so silly when they are caught. And they are +always being caught. [<i>Looks about room and approaches +the writing-table</i>.] What a very interesting room! +What a very interesting picture! Wonder what his +correspondence is like. [<i>Takes up letters</i>.] +Oh, what a very uninteresting correspondence! Bills and +cards, debts and dowagers! Who on earth writes to him on +pink paper? How silly to write on pink paper! It +looks like the beginning of a middle-class romance. Romance +should never begin with sentiment. It should begin with +science and end with a settlement. [<i>Puts letter +down</i>, <i>then takes it up again</i>.] I know that +handwriting. That is Gertrude Chiltern’s. I +remember it perfectly. The ten commandments in every stroke +of the pen, and the moral law all over the page. Wonder +what Gertrude is writing to him about? Something horrid +about me, I suppose. How I detest that woman! +[<i>Reads it</i>.] ‘I trust you. I want +you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.’ +‘I trust you. I want you. I am coming to +you.’</p> + +<p>[<i>A look of triumph comes over her face</i>. <i>She is +just about to steal the letter</i>, <i>when</i> <span +class="smcap">phipps</span> <i>comes in</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. The candles in the +drawing-room are lit, madam, as you directed.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Thank +you. [<i>Rises hastily and slips the letter under a large +silver-cased blotting-book that is lying on the table</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. I trust the shades +will be to your liking, madam. They are the most becoming +we have. They are the same as his lordship uses himself +when he is dressing for dinner.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>With a +smile</i>.] Then I am sure they will be perfectly +right.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. +[<i>Gravely</i>.] Thank you, madam.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> <i>goes into the +drawing-room</i>. <span class="smcap">phipps</span> +<i>closes the door and retires</i>. <i>The door is then +slowly opened</i>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">mrs. +cheveley</span> <i>comes out and creeps stealthily towards the +writing-table</i>. <i>Suddenly voices are heard from the +smoking-room</i>. <span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> +<i>grows pale</i>, <i>and stops</i>. <i>The voices grow +louder</i>, <i>and she goes back into the drawing-room</i>, +<i>biting her lip</i>.]</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">lord goring</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Expostulating</i>.] My dear father, if I am to get +married, surely you will allow me to choose the time, place, and +person? Particularly the person.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. +[<i>Testily</i>.] That is a matter for me, sir. You +would probably make a very poor choice. It is I who should +be consulted, not you. There is property at stake. It +is not a matter for affection. Affection comes later on in +married life.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes. In +married life affection comes when people thoroughly dislike each +other, father, doesn’t it? [<i>Puts on</i> <span +class="smcap">lord caversham’s</span> <i>cloak for +him</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Certainly, +sir. I mean certainly not, sir. You are talking very +foolishly to-night. What I say is that marriage is a matter +for common sense.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. But women who +have common sense are so curiously plain, father, aren’t +they? Of course I only speak from hearsay.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. No woman, +plain or pretty, has any common sense at all, sir. Common +sense is the privilege of our sex.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Quite so. +And we men are so self-sacrificing that we never use it, do we, +father?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. I use it, +sir. I use nothing else.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. So my mother +tells me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. It is the +secret of your mother’s happiness. You are very +heartless, sir, very heartless.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I hope not, +father.</p> + +<p>[<i>Goes out for a moment</i>. <i>Then returns</i>, +<i>looking rather put out</i>, <i>with</i> <span +class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. My dear +Arthur, what a piece of good luck meeting you on the +doorstep! Your servant had just told me you were not at +home. How extraordinary!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. The fact is, I +am horribly busy to-night, Robert, and I gave orders I was not at +home to any one. Even my father had a comparatively cold +reception. He complained of a draught the whole time.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Ah! you +must be at home to me, Arthur. You are my best +friend. Perhaps by to-morrow you will be my only +friend. My wife has discovered everything.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Ah! I guessed as +much!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Looking at him</i>.] Really! How?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>After some +hesitation</i>.] Oh, merely by something in the expression +of your face as you came in. Who told her?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Mrs. +Cheveley herself. And the woman I love knows that I began +my career with an act of low dishonesty, that I built up my life +upon sands of shame—that I sold, like a common huckster, +the secret that had been intrusted to me as a man of +honour. I thank heaven poor Lord Radley died without +knowing that I betrayed him. I would to God I had died +before I had been so horribly tempted, or had fallen so +low. [<i>Burying his face in his hands</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>After a +pause</i>.] You have heard nothing from Vienna yet, in +answer to your wire?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Looking up</i>.] Yes; I got a telegram from the first +secretary at eight o’clock to-night.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Well?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Nothing +is absolutely known against her. On the contrary, she +occupies a rather high position in society. It is a sort of +open secret that Baron Arnheim left her the greater portion of +his immense fortune. Beyond that I can learn nothing.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. She +doesn’t turn out to be a spy, then?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Oh! +spies are of no use nowadays. Their profession is +over. The newspapers do their work instead.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. And thunderingly +well they do it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Arthur, +I am parched with thirst. May I ring for something? +Some hock and seltzer?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Certainly. +Let me. [<i>Rings the bell</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +Thanks! I don’t know what to do, Arthur, I +don’t know what to do, and you are my only friend. +But what a friend you are—the one friend I can trust. +I can trust you absolutely, can’t I?</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">phipps</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. My dear Robert, +of course. Oh! [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">phipps</span>.] Bring some hock and +seltzer.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. And Phipps!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Will you excuse +me for a moment, Robert? I want to give some directions to +my servant.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +Certainly.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. When that lady +calls, tell her that I am not expected home this evening. +Tell her that I have been suddenly called out of town. You +understand?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. The lady is in that +room, my lord. You told me to show her into that room, my +lord.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You did +perfectly right. [<i>Exit</i> <span +class="smcap">phipps</span>.] What a mess I am in. +No; I think I shall get through it. I’ll give her a +lecture through the door. Awkward thing to manage, +though.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Arthur, +tell me what I should do. My life seems to have crumbled +about me. I am a ship without a rudder in a night without a +star.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Robert, you love +your wife, don’t you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I love +her more than anything in the world. I used to think +ambition the great thing. It is not. Love is the +great thing in the world. There is nothing but love, and I +love her. But I am defamed in her eyes. I am ignoble +in her eyes. There is a wide gulf between us now. She +has found me out, Arthur, she has found me out.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Has she never in +her life done some folly—some indiscretion—that she +should not forgive your sin?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. My +wife! Never! She does not know what weakness or +temptation is. I am of clay like other men. She +stands apart as good women do—pitiless in her +perfection—cold and stern and without mercy. But I +love her, Arthur. We are childless, and I have no one else +to love, no one else to love me. Perhaps if God had sent us +children she might have been kinder to me. But God has +given us a lonely house. And she has cut my heart in +two. Don’t let us talk of it. I was brutal to +her this evening. But I suppose when sinners talk to saints +they are brutal always. I said to her things that were +hideously true, on my side, from my stand-point, from the +standpoint of men. But don’t let us talk of that.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Your wife will +forgive you. Perhaps at this moment she is forgiving +you. She loves you, Robert. Why should she not +forgive?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. God +grant it! God grant it! [<i>Buries his face in his +hands</i>.] But there is something more I have to tell you, +Arthur.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">phipps</span> <i>with +drinks</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. [<i>Hands hock and +seltzer to</i> <span class="smcap">sir robert +chiltern</span>.] Hock and seltzer, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Thank +you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Is your carriage +here, Robert?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. No; I +walked from the club.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Sir Robert will +take my cab, Phipps.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord. +[<i>Exit</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Robert, you +don’t mind my sending you away?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Arthur, +you must let me stay for five minutes. I have made up my +mind what I am going to do to-night in the House. The +debate on the Argentine Canal is to begin at eleven. [<i>A +chair falls in the drawing-room</i>.] What is that?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Nothing.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I heard +a chair fall in the next room. Some one has been +listening.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. No, no; there is +no one there.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. There is +some one. There are lights in the room, and the door is +ajar. Some one has been listening to every secret of my +life. Arthur, what does this mean?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Robert, you are +excited, unnerved. I tell you there is no one in that room. +Sit down, Robert.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Do you +give me your word that there is no one there?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Your +word of honour? [<i>Sits down</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Rises</i>.] Arthur, let me see for myself.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. No, no.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. If there +is no one there why should I not look in that room? Arthur, +you must let me go into that room and satisfy myself. Let +me know that no eavesdropper has heard my life’s +secret. Arthur, you don’t realise what I am going +through.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Robert, this +must stop. I have told you that there is no one in that +room—that is enough.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Rushes to the door of the room</i>.] It is not +enough. I insist on going into this room. You have +told me there is no one there, so what reason can you have for +refusing me?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. For God’s +sake, don’t! There is some one there. Some one +whom you must not see.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Ah, I +thought so!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I forbid you to +enter that room.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Stand +back. My life is at stake. And I don’t care who +is there. I will know who it is to whom I have told my +secret and my shame. [<i>Enters room</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Great heavens! +his own wife!</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span> <i>comes +back</i>, <i>with a look of scorn and anger on his face</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. What +explanation have you to give me for the presence of that woman +here?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Robert, I swear +to you on my honour that that lady is stainless and guiltless of +all offence towards you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. She is a +vile, an infamous thing!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Don’t say +that, Robert! It was for your sake she came here. It +was to try and save you she came here. She loves you and no +one else.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. You are +mad. What have I to do with her intrigues with you? +Let her remain your mistress! You are well suited to each +other. She, corrupt and shameful—you, false as a +friend, treacherous as an enemy even—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. It is not true, +Robert. Before heaven, it is not true. In her +presence and in yours I will explain all.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Let me +pass, sir. You have lied enough upon your word of +honour.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span> <i>goes +out</i>. <span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>rushes +to the door of the drawing-room</i>, <i>when</i> <span +class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> <i>comes out</i>, <i>looking +radiant and much amused</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>With a +mock curtsey</i>] Good evening, Lord Goring!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Mrs. +Cheveley! Great heavens! . . . May I ask what you were +doing in my drawing-room?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Merely +listening. I have a perfect passion for listening through +keyholes. One always hears such wonderful things through +them.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Doesn’t +that sound rather like tempting Providence?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Oh! surely +Providence can resist temptation by this time. [<i>Makes a +sign to him to take her cloak off</i>, <i>which he does</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I am glad you +have called. I am going to give you some good advice.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Oh! pray +don’t. One should never give a woman anything that +she can’t wear in the evening.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I see you are +quite as wilful as you used to be.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Far +more! I have greatly improved. I have had more +experience.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Too much +experience is a dangerous thing. Pray have a +cigarette. Half the pretty women in London smoke +cigarettes. Personally I prefer the other half.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Thanks. +I never smoke. My dressmaker wouldn’t like it, and a +woman’s first duty in life is to her dressmaker, +isn’t it? What the second duty is, no one has as yet +discovered.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You have come +here to sell me Robert Chiltern’s letter, haven’t +you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. To offer it to +you on conditions. How did you guess that?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Because you +haven’t mentioned the subject. Have you got it with +you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Sitting +down</i>.] Oh, no! A well-made dress has no +pockets.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. What is your +price for it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. How absurdly +English you are! The English think that a cheque-book can +solve every problem in life. Why, my dear Arthur, I have +very much more money than you have, and quite as much as Robert +Chiltern has got hold of. Money is not what I want.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. What do you want +then, Mrs. Cheveley?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Why +don’t you call me Laura?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I don’t +like the name.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. You used to +adore it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes: +that’s why. [<span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> +<i>motions to him to sit down beside her</i>. <i>He +smiles</i>, <i>and does so</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Arthur, you +loved me once.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. And you asked +me to be your wife.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. That was the +natural result of my loving you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. And you threw +me over because you saw, or said you saw, poor old Lord Mortlake +trying to have a violent flirtation with me in the conservatory +at Tenby.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I am under the +impression that my lawyer settled that matter with you on certain +terms . . . dictated by yourself.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. At that time I +was poor; you were rich.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Quite so. +That is why you pretended to love me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Shrugging +her shoulders</i>.] Poor old Lord Mortlake, who had only +two topics of conversation, his gout and his wife! I never +could quite make out which of the two he was talking about. +He used the most horrible language about them both. Well, +you were silly, Arthur. Why, Lord Mortlake was never +anything more to me than an amusement. One of those utterly +tedious amusements one only finds at an English country house on +an English country Sunday. I don’t think any one at +all morally responsible for what he or she does at an English +country house.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes. I +know lots of people think that.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I loved you, +Arthur.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. My dear Mrs. +Cheveley, you have always been far too clever to know anything +about love.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I did love +you. And you loved me. You know you loved me; and +love is a very wonderful thing. I suppose that when a man +has once loved a woman, he will do anything for her, except +continue to love her? [<i>Puts her hand on his</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Taking his +hand away quietly</i>.] Yes: except that.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>After a +pause</i>.] I am tired of living abroad. I want to +come back to London. I want to have a charming house +here. I want to have a salon. If one could only teach +the English how to talk, and the Irish how to listen, society +here would be quite civilised. Besides, I have arrived at +the romantic stage. When I saw you last night at the +Chilterns’, I knew you were the only person I had ever +cared for, if I ever have cared for anybody, Arthur. And +so, on the morning of the day you marry me, I will give you +Robert Chiltern’s letter. That is my offer. I +will give it to you now, if you promise to marry me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Now?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. +[<i>Smiling</i>.] To-morrow.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Are you really +serious?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Yes, quite +serious.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I should make +you a very bad husband.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I don’t +mind bad husbands. I have had two. They amused me +immensely.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You mean that +you amused yourself immensely, don’t you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. What do you +know about my married life?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Nothing: but I +can read it like a book.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. What book?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Rising</i>.] The Book of Numbers.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Do you think +it is quite charming of you to be so rude to a woman in your own +house?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. In the case of +very fascinating women, sex is a challenge, not a defence.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I suppose that +is meant for a compliment. My dear Arthur, women are never +disarmed by compliments. Men always are. That is the +difference between the two sexes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Women are never +disarmed by anything, as far as I know them.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>After a +pause</i>.] Then you are going to allow your greatest +friend, Robert Chiltern, to be ruined, rather than marry some one +who really has considerable attractions left. I thought you +would have risen to some great height of self-sacrifice, +Arthur. I think you should. And the rest of your life +you could spend in contemplating your own perfections.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Oh! I do that as +it is. And self-sacrifice is a thing that should be put +down by law. It is so demoralising to the people for whom +one sacrifices oneself. They always go to the bad.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. As if anything +could demoralise Robert Chiltern! You seem to forget that I +know his real character.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. What you know +about him is not his real character. It was an act of folly +done in his youth, dishonourable, I admit, shameful, I admit, +unworthy of him, I admit, and therefore . . . not his true +character.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. How you men +stand up for each other!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. How you women +war against each other!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. +[<i>Bitterly</i>.] I only war against one woman, against +Gertrude Chiltern. I hate her. I hate her now more +than ever.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Because you have +brought a real tragedy into her life, I suppose.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>With a +sneer</i>.] Oh, there is only one real tragedy in a +woman’s life. The fact that her past is always her +lover, and her future invariably her husband.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Lady Chiltern +knows nothing of the kind of life to which you are alluding.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. A woman whose +size in gloves is seven and three-quarters never knows much about +anything. You know Gertrude has always worn seven and +three-quarters? That is one of the reasons why there was +never any moral sympathy between us. . . . Well, Arthur, I +suppose this romantic interview may be regarded as at an +end. You admit it was romantic, don’t you? For +the privilege of being your wife I was ready to surrender a great +prize, the climax of my diplomatic career. You +decline. Very well. If Sir Robert doesn’t +uphold my Argentine scheme, I expose him. <i>Voilà +tout</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You +mustn’t do that. It would be vile, horrible, +infamous.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Shrugging +her shoulders</i>.] Oh! don’t use big words. +They mean so little. It is a commercial transaction. +That is all. There is no good mixing up sentimentality in +it. I offered to sell Robert Chiltern a certain +thing. If he won’t pay me my price, he will have to +pay the world a greater price. There is no more to be +said. I must go. Good-bye. Won’t you +shake hands?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. With you? +No. Your transaction with Robert Chiltern may pass as a +loathsome commercial transaction of a loathsome commercial age; +but you seem to have forgotten that you came here to-night to +talk of love, you whose lips desecrated the word love, you to +whom the thing is a book closely sealed, went this afternoon to +the house of one of the most noble and gentle women in the world +to degrade her husband in her eyes, to try and kill her love for +him, to put poison in her heart, and bitterness in her life, to +break her idol, and, it may be, spoil her soul. That I +cannot forgive you. That was horrible. For that there +can be no forgiveness.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Arthur, you +are unjust to me. Believe me, you are quite unjust to +me. I didn’t go to taunt Gertrude at all. I had +no idea of doing anything of the kind when I entered. I +called with Lady Markby simply to ask whether an ornament, a +jewel, that I lost somewhere last night, had been found at the +Chilterns’. If you don’t believe me, you can +ask Lady Markby. She will tell you it is true. The +scene that occurred happened after Lady Markby had left, and was +really forced on me by Gertrude’s rudeness and +sneers. I called, oh!—a little out of malice if you +like—but really to ask if a diamond brooch of mine had been +found. That was the origin of the whole thing.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. A diamond +snake-brooch with a ruby?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Yes. How +do you know?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Because it is +found. In point of fact, I found it myself, and stupidly +forgot to tell the butler anything about it as I was +leaving. [<i>Goes over to the writing-table and pulls out +the drawers</i>.] It is in this drawer. No, that +one. This is the brooch, isn’t it? [<i>Holds up +the brooch</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Yes. I +am so glad to get it back. It was . . a present.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Won’t you +wear it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Certainly, if +you pin it in. [<span class="smcap">lord goring</span> +<i>suddenly clasps it on her arm</i>.] Why do you put it on +as a bracelet? I never knew it could be worn as a +bracelet.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Really?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Holding +out her handsome arm</i>.] No; but it looks very well on me +as a bracelet, doesn’t it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes; much better +than when I saw it last.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. When did you +see it last?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Calmly</i>.] Oh, ten years ago, on Lady Berkshire, from +whom you stole it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. +[<i>Starting</i>.] What do you mean?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I mean that you +stole that ornament from my cousin, Mary Berkshire, to whom I +gave it when she was married. Suspicion fell on a wretched +servant, who was sent away in disgrace. I recognised it +last night. I determined to say nothing about it till I had +found the thief. I have found the thief now, and I have +heard her own confession.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Tossing +her head</i>.] It is not true.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You know it is +true. Why, thief is written across your face at this +moment.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I will deny +the whole affair from beginning to end. I will say that I +have never seen this wretched thing, that it was never in my +possession.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> <i>tries to get the +bracelet off her arm</i>, <i>but fails</i>. <span +class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>looks on amused</i>. +<i>Her thin fingers tear at the jewel to no purpose</i>. +<i>A curse breaks from her</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. The drawback of +stealing a thing, Mrs. Cheveley, is that one never knows how +wonderful the thing that one steals is. You can’t get +that bracelet off, unless you know where the spring is. And +I see you don’t know where the spring is. It is +rather difficult to find.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. You +brute! You coward! [<i>She tries again to unclasp the +bracelet</i>, <i>but fails</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Oh! don’t +use big words. They mean so little.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Again +tears at the bracelet in a paroxysm of rage</i>, <i>with +inarticulate sounds</i>. <i>Then stops</i>, <i>and looks +at</i> <span class="smcap">lord goring</span>.] What are +you going to do?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I am going to +ring for my servant. He is an admirable servant. +Always comes in the moment one rings for him. When he comes +I will tell him to fetch the police.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. +[<i>Trembling</i>.] The police? What for?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. To-morrow the +Berkshires will prosecute you. That is what the police are +for.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Is now in +an agony of physical terror</i>. <i>Her face is +distorted</i>. <i>Her mouth awry</i>. <i>A mask has +fallen from her</i>. <i>She is</i>, <i>for the moment</i>, +<i>dreadful to look at</i>.] Don’t do that. I +will do anything you want. Anything in the world you +want.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Give me Robert +Chiltern’s letter.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Stop! +Stop! Let me have time to think.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Give me Robert +Chiltern’s letter.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I have not got +it with me. I will give it to you to-morrow.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You know you are +lying. Give it to me at once. [<span +class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> <i>pulls the letter out</i>, +<i>and hands it to him</i>. <i>She is horribly +pale</i>.] This is it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>In a +hoarse voice</i>.] Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Takes the +letter</i>, <i>examines it</i>, <i>sighs</i>, <i>and burns it +with the lamp</i>.] For so well-dressed a woman, Mrs. +Cheveley, you have moments of admirable common sense. I +congratulate you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Catches +sight of</i> <span class="smcap">lady chiltern’s</span> +<i>letter</i>, <i>the cover of which is just showing from under +the blotting-book</i>.] Please get me a glass of water.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Certainly. +[<i>Goes to the corner of the room and pours out a glass of +water</i>. <i>While his back is turned</i> <span +class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> <i>steals</i> <span +class="smcap">lady chiltern’s</span> <i>letter</i>. +<i>When</i> <span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>returns the +glass she refuses it with a gesture</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Thank +you. Will you help me on with my cloak?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. With +pleasure. [<i>Puts her cloak on</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Thanks. +I am never going to try to harm Robert Chiltern again.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Fortunately you +have not the chance, Mrs. Cheveley.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Well, if even +I had the chance, I wouldn’t. On the contrary, I am +going to render him a great service.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I am charmed to +hear it. It is a reformation.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Yes. I +can’t bear so upright a gentleman, so honourable an English +gentleman, being so shamefully deceived, and so—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Well?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I find that +somehow Gertrude Chiltern’s dying speech and confession has +strayed into my pocket.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. What do you +mean?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>With a +bitter note of triumph in her voice</i>.] I mean that I am +going to send Robert Chiltern the love-letter his wife wrote to +you to-night.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Love-letter?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. +[<i>Laughing</i>.] ‘I want you. I trust +you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.’</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>rushes to the +bureau and takes up the envelope</i>, <i>finds is empty</i>, +<i>and turns round</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You wretched +woman, must you always be thieving? Give me back that +letter. I’ll take it from you by force. You +shall not leave my room till I have got it.</p> + +<p>[<i>He rushes towards her</i>, <i>but</i> <span +class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> <i>at once puts her hand on +the electric bell that is on the table</i>. <i>The bell sounds +with shrill reverberations</i>, <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">phipps</span> <i>enters</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>After a +pause</i>.] Lord Goring merely rang that you should show me +out. Good-night, Lord Goring!</p> + +<p>[<i>Goes out followed by</i> <span +class="smcap">phipps</span>. <i>Her face is illumined with +evil triumph</i>. <i>There is joy in her eyes</i>. +<i>Youth seems to have come back to her</i>. <i>Her last +glance is like a swift arrow</i>. <span class="smcap">lord +goring</span> <i>bites his lip</i>, <i>and lights a +cigarette</i>.]</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Act +Drop.</span></p> +<h2>FOURTH ACT</h2> +<h3>SCENE</h3> +<p><i>Same as Act II</i>.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>is standing by the +fireplace with his hands in his pockets</i>. <i>He is +looking rather bored</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Pulls out +his watch</i>, <i>inspects it</i>, <i>and rings the +bell</i>.] It is a great nuisance. I can’t find +any one in this house to talk to. And I am full of +interesting information. I feel like the latest edition of +something or other.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter servant</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">james</span>. Sir Robert is still at +the Foreign Office, my lord.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Lady Chiltern +not down yet?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">james</span>. Her ladyship has not +yet left her room. Miss Chiltern has just come in from +riding.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>To +himself</i>.] Ah! that is something.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">james</span>. Lord Caversham has +been waiting some time in the library for Sir Robert. I +told him your lordship was here.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Thank you! +Would you kindly tell him I’ve gone?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">james</span>. [<i>Bowing</i>.] +I shall do so, my lord.</p> + +<p>[<i>Exit servant</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Really, I +don’t want to meet my father three days running. It +is a great deal too much excitement for any son. I hope to +goodness he won’t come up. Fathers should be neither +seen nor heard. That is the only proper basis for family +life. Mothers are different. Mothers are +darlings. [<i>Throws himself down into a chair</i>, +<i>picks up a paper and begins to read it</i>.]</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Well, sir, +what are you doing here? Wasting your time as usual, I +suppose?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Throws down +paper and rises</i>.] My dear father, when one pays a visit +it is for the purpose of wasting other people’s time, not +one’s own.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Have you been +thinking over what I spoke to you about last night?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I have been +thinking about nothing else.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Engaged to be +married yet?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Genially</i>.] Not yet: but I hope to be before +lunch-time.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. +[<i>Caustically</i>.] You can have till dinner-time if it +would be of any convenience to you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Thanks awfully, +but I think I’d sooner be engaged before lunch.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Humph! +Never know when you are serious or not.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Neither do I, +father.</p> + +<p>[<i>A pause</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. I suppose you +have read <i>The Times</i> this morning?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Airily</i>.] The Times? Certainly not. I +only read <i>The Morning Post</i>. All that one should know +about modern life is where the Duchesses are; anything else is +quite demoralising.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Do you mean +to say you have not read <i>The Times</i> leading article on +Robert Chiltern’s career?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Good +heavens! No. What does it say?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. What should +it say, sir? Everything complimentary, of course. +Chiltern’s speech last night on this Argentine Canal scheme +was one of the finest pieces of oratory ever delivered in the +House since Canning.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Ah! Never +heard of Canning. Never wanted to. And did . . . did +Chiltern uphold the scheme?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Uphold it, +sir? How little you know him! Why, he denounced it +roundly, and the whole system of modern political finance. +This speech is the turning-point in his career, as <i>The +Times</i> points out. You should read this article, +sir. [<i>Opens</i> The Times.] ‘Sir Robert +Chiltern . . . most rising of our young statesmen . . . Brilliant +orator . . . Unblemished career . . . Well-known integrity of +character . . . Represents what is best in English public life . +. . Noble contrast to the lax morality so common among foreign +politicians.’ They will never say that of you, +sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I sincerely hope +not, father. However, I am delighted at what you tell me +about Robert, thoroughly delighted. It shows he has got +pluck.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. He has got +more than pluck, sir, he has got genius.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Ah! I prefer +pluck. It is not so common, nowadays, as genius is.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. I wish you +would go into Parliament.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. My dear father, +only people who look dull ever get into the House of Commons, and +only people who are dull ever succeed there.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Why +don’t you try to do something useful in life?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I am far too +young.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. +[<i>Testily</i>.] I hate this affectation of youth, +sir. It is a great deal too prevalent nowadays.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Youth +isn’t an affectation. Youth is an art.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Why +don’t you propose to that pretty Miss Chiltern?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I am of a very +nervous disposition, especially in the morning.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. I don’t +suppose there is the smallest chance of her accepting you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I don’t +know how the betting stands to-day.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. If she did +accept you she would be the prettiest fool in England.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. You +don’t deserve her, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. My dear father, +if we men married the women we deserved, we should have a very +bad time of it.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Oh! . . . How +do you do, Lord Caversham? I hope Lady Caversham is quite +well?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Lady +Caversham is as usual, as usual.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Good morning, +Miss Mabel!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. [<i>Taking no +notice at all of</i> <span class="smcap">lord goring</span>, +<i>and addressing herself exclusively to</i> <span +class="smcap">lord caversham</span>.] And Lady +Caversham’s bonnets . . . are they at all better?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. They have had +a serious relapse, I am sorry to say.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Good morning, +Miss Mabel!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. [<i>To</i> +<span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>.] I hope an +operation will not be necessary.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. [<i>Smiling +at her pertness</i>.] If it is, we shall have to give Lady +Caversham a narcotic. Otherwise she would never consent to +have a feather touched.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>With +increased emphasis</i>.] Good morning, Miss Mabel!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. [<i>Turning +round with feigned surprise</i>.] Oh, are you here? +Of course you understand that after your breaking your +appointment I am never going to speak to you again.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Oh, please +don’t say such a thing. You are the one person in +London I really like to have to listen to me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Lord Goring, +I never believe a single word that either you or I say to each +other.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. You are quite +right, my dear, quite right . . . as far as he is concerned, I +mean.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Do you think +you could possibly make your son behave a little better +occasionally? Just as a change.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. I am afraid +that he has one of those terribly weak natures that are not +susceptible to influence.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. He is very +heartless, very heartless.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. It seems to me +that I am a little in the way here.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. It is very +good for you to be in the way, and to know what people say of you +behind your back.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I don’t at +all like knowing what people say of me behind my back. It +makes me far too conceited.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. After that, +my dear, I really must bid you good morning.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Oh! I hope +you are not going to leave me all alone with Lord Goring? +Especially at such an early hour in the day.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. I am afraid I +can’t take him with me to Downing Street. It is not +the Prime Minster’s day for seeing the unemployed.</p> + +<p>[<i>Shakes hands with</i> <span class="smcap">mabel +chiltern</span>, <i>takes up his hat and stick</i>, <i>and goes +out</i>, <i>with a parting glare of indignation at</i> <span +class="smcap">lord goring</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. [<i>Takes up +roses and begins to arrange them in a bowl on the +table</i>.] People who don’t keep their appointments +in the Park are horrid.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Detestable.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. I am glad you +admit it. But I wish you wouldn’t look so pleased +about it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I can’t +help it. I always look pleased when I am with you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. +[<i>Sadly</i>.] Then I suppose it is my duty to remain with +you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Of course it +is.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Well, my duty +is a thing I never do, on principle. It always depresses +me. So I am afraid I must leave you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Please +don’t, Miss Mabel. I have something very particular +to say to you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. +[<i>Rapturously</i>.] Oh! is it a proposal?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Somewhat +taken aback</i>.] Well, yes, it is—I am bound to say +it is.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. [<i>With a +sigh of pleasure</i>.] I am so glad. That makes the +second to-day.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Indignantly</i>.] The second to-day? What +conceited ass has been impertinent enough to dare to propose to +you before I had proposed to you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Tommy +Trafford, of course. It is one of Tommy’s days for +proposing. He always proposes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, +during the Season.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You didn’t +accept him, I hope?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Oh! bother Tommy +Trafford. Tommy is a silly little ass. I love +you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. I know. +And I think you might have mentioned it before. I am sure I +have given you heaps of opportunities.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Mabel, do be +serious. Please be serious.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Taking hold +of her hand</i>.] Mabel, I have told you that I love +you. Can’t you love me a little in return?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. You silly +Arthur! If you knew anything about . . . anything, which +you don’t, you would know that I adore you. Every one +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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Catches her +in his arms and kisses her</i>. <i>Then there is a pause of +bliss</i>.] Dear! Do you know I was awfully afraid of +being refused!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. [<i>Looking +up at him</i>.] But you never have been refused yet by +anybody, have you, Arthur? I can’t imagine any one +refusing you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>After +kissing her again</i>.] Of course I’m not nearly good +enough for you, Mabel.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. [<i>Nestling +close to him</i>.] I am so glad, darling. I was +afraid you were.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>After some +hesitation</i>.] And I’m . . . I’m a little +over thirty.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Dear, you +look weeks younger than that.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Enthusiastically</i>.] How sweet of you to say so! . . +. And it is only fair to tell you frankly that I am fearfully +extravagant.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. But so am I, +Arthur. So we’re sure to agree. And now I must +go and see Gertrude.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Must you +really? [<i>Kisses her</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Do you mean +to say you didn’t come here expressly to propose to me?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Triumphantly</i>.] No; that was a flash of genius.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. Your +first.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>With +determination</i>.] My last.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Dear Mabel, +while you are away, there are none. It makes me horribly +dependent on you.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Good morning, +dear! How pretty you are looking!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. How pale you +are looking, Gertrude! It is most becoming!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Good morning, +Lord Goring!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Bowing</i>.] Good morning, Lady Chiltern!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. [<i>Aside +to</i> <span class="smcap">lord goring</span>.] I shall be +in the conservatory under the second palm tree on the left.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Second on the +left?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. [<i>With a +look of mock surprise</i>.] Yes; the usual palm tree.</p> + +<p>[<i>Blows a kiss to him</i>, <i>unobserved by</i> <span +class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>, <i>and goes out</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>Sinking on +the sofa</i>.] Safe! Oh! I am so glad of that. +What a good friend you are to him—to us!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. There is only +one person now that could be said to be in any danger.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Who is +that?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Sitting down +beside her</i>.] Yourself.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. I? In +danger? What do you mean?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Well, what use +is it to her? Why should she not have it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Rising</i>.] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. At what hour +did this happen?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. At half-past +ten. And now I propose that we tell Robert the whole thing +at once.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>Looking at +him with amazement that is almost terror</i>.] 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I think it is +better that he should know the exact truth.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. +[<i>Rising</i>.] Oh, I couldn’t, I +couldn’t!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. May I do it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. No.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. +[<i>Gravely</i>.] You are wrong, Lady Chiltern.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Pray be calm, +Lady Chiltern, and answer the questions I am going to put to +you. You said his secretaries open his letters.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Who is with him +to-day? Mr. Trafford, isn’t it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. No. Mr. +Montford, I think.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You can trust +him?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>With a +gesture of despair</i>.] Oh! how do I know?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. He would do what +you asked him, wouldn’t he?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. I think +so.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Your letter was +on pink paper. He could recognise it without reading it, +couldn’t he? By the colour?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. I suppose +so.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Is he in the +house now?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. 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. [<i>Goes to the door</i>, +<i>and opens it</i>.] Oh! Robert is coming upstairs with +the letter in his hand. It has reached him already.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>With a cry +of pain</i>.] Oh! you have saved his life; what have you +done with mine?</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">sir robert +chiltern</span>. <i>He has the letter in his hand</i>, +<i>and is reading it</i>. <i>He comes towards his wife</i>, +<i>not noticing</i> <span class="smcap">lord +goring’s</span> <i>presence</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. ‘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?</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">lord goring</span>, <i>unseen by</i> +<span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>, <i>makes an +imploring sign to</i> <span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span> +<i>to accept the situation and</i> <span class="smcap">sir +robert’s</span> <i>error</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. You +trust me, Gertrude?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Ah! why +did you not add you loved me?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>Taking his +hand</i>.] Because I loved you.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>passes into the +conservatory</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Kisses her</i>.] Gertrude, you don’t know what I +feel. When Montford 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Are you +sure of this, Gertrude?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Yes; Lord +Goring has just told me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. He burned +it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Yes; he is in +the conservatory.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Public honour +has been the result.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. 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? [<i>He looks anxiously at his wife</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. +[<i>Eagerly</i>.] Oh yes, Robert, you should do that. +It is your duty to do that.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. It is +much to surrender.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. No; it will be +much to gain.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span> <i>walks up +and down the room with a troubled expression</i>. <i>Then +comes over to his wife</i>, <i>and puts his hand on her +shoulder</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Oh! none, +Robert.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Sadly</i>.] And your ambition for me? You used to +be ambitious for me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. 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.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>returns from the +conservatory</i>, <i>looking very pleased with himself</i>, +<i>and with an entirely new buttonhole that some one has made for +him</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Going towards him</i>.] Arthur, I have to thank you for +what you have done for me. I don’t know how I can +repay you. [<i>Shakes hands with him</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. My dear fellow, +I’ll tell you at once. At the present moment, under +the usual palm tree . . . I mean in the conservatory . . .</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">mason</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mason</span>. Lord Caversham.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. 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.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. +<span class="smcap">mason</span> <i>goes out</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. [<i>With +a look of joy and triumph</i>.] A seat in the Cabinet?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Yes; here is +the Prime Minister’s letter. [<i>Hands +letter</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Takes letter and reads it</i>.] A seat in the +Cabinet!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. 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. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">lord +goring</span>.] Everything that you have not got, sir, and +never will have.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I don’t +like principles, father. I prefer prejudices.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span> <i>is on the +brink of accepting the Prime Minister’s offer</i>, <i>when +he sees wife looking at him with her clear</i>, <i>candid +eyes</i>. <i>He then realises that it is +impossible</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I cannot +accept this offer, Lord Caversham. I have made up my mind +to decline it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Decline it, +sir!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. My +intention is to retire at once from public life.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. +[<i>Angrily</i>.] 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. [<i>To</i> +<span class="smcap">lord goring</span>.] Don’t grin +like that, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. No, father.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. 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 taking such . +. . Will you kindly do that, Lady Chiltern?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. I think my +husband in right is his determination, Lord Caversham. I +approve of it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. You approve +of it? Good heavens!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>Taking her +husband’s hand</i>.] 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. +[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>.] +You will go and write your letter to the Prime Minister now, +won’t you? Don’t hesitate about it, Robert.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. [<i>With +a touch of bitterness</i>.] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. I may come +with you, Robert, may I not?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Yes, +Gertrude.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span> <i>goes out with +him</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. What is the +matter with this family? Something wrong here, eh? +[<i>Tapping his forehead</i>.] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. It is not +idiocy, father, I assure you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. What is it +then, sir?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>After some +hesitation</i>.] Well, it is what is called nowadays a high +moral tone, father. That is all.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Hate these +new-fangled names. Same thing as we used to call idiocy +fifty years ago. Shan’t stay in this house any +longer.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Taking his +arm</i>.] Oh! just go in here for a moment, father. +Third palm tree to the left, the usual palm tree.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. What, +sir?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I beg your +pardon, father, I forgot. The conservatory, father, the +conservatory—there is some one there I want you to talk +to.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. What about, +sir?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. About me, +father.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. +[<i>Grimly</i>.] Not a subject on which much eloquence is +possible.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. No, father; but +the lady is like me. She doesn’t care much for +eloquence in others. She thinks it a little loud.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">lord caversham</span> <i>goes out into +the conservatory</i>. <span class="smcap">lady +chiltern</span> <i>enters</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Lady Chiltern, +why are you playing Mrs. Cheveley’s cards?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. +[<i>Startled</i>.] I don’t understand you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Lord +Goring?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Pulling +himself together for a great effort</i>, <i>and showing the +philosopher that underlies the dandy</i>.] 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 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>Troubled +and hesitating</i>.] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. We have both +been punished. I set him up too high.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>With deep +feeling in his voice</i>.] 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.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">sir robert +chiltern</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +Gertrude, here is the draft of my letter. Shall I read it +to you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Let me see +it.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">sir robert</span> <i>hands her the +letter</i>. <i>She reads it</i>, <i>and then</i>, <i>with a +gesture of passion</i>, <i>tears it up</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. What are +you doing?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +Gertrude! Gertrude!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. You can +forget. Men easily forget. And I forgive. That +is how women help the world. I see that now.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Deeply overcome by emotion</i>, <i>embraces her</i>.] +My wife! my wife! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">lord +goring</span>.] Arthur, it seems that I am always to be in +your debt.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Oh dear no, +Robert. Your debt is to Lady Chiltern, not to me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I owe +you much. And now tell me what you were going to ask me +just now as Lord Caversham came in.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Robert, you are +your sister’s guardian, and I want your consent to my +marriage with her. That is all.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Oh, I am so +glad! I am so glad! [<i>Shakes hands with</i> <span +class="smcap">lord goring</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Thank you, Lady +Chiltern.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. [<i>With +a troubled look</i>.] My sister to be your wife?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Speaking with great firmness</i>.] 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Sacrificed!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. But I love +Mabel. No other woman has any place in my life.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Robert, if +they love each other, why should they not be married?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Arthur +cannot bring Mabel the love that she deserves.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. What reason have +you for saying that?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>After a pause</i>.] Do you really require me to tell +you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Certainly I +do.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I have nothing +more to say.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Robert, it was +not Mrs. Cheveley whom Lord Goring expected last night.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Not Mrs. +Cheveley! Who was it then?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Lady +Chiltern!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. 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. [<span class="smcap">sir robert +chiltern</span> <i>takes the letter out of his pocket</i>.] +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. . . .</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. Let me write +yours. It is you I trust and need. You and none +else.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Well, really, +Lady Chiltern, I think I should have back my own letter.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. +[<i>Smiling</i>.] No; you shall have Mabel. [<i>Takes +the letter and writes her husband’s name on it</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Well, I hope she +hasn’t changed her mind. It’s nearly twenty +minutes since I saw her last.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Darling! +[<i>Kisses her</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. +[<i>Considerably taken aback</i>.] 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Certainly, +father! And Chiltern’s been wise enough to accept the +seat in the Cabinet.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. 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.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">mason</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mason</span>. Luncheon is on the +table, my Lady!</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">mason</span> <i>goes out</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. You’ll +stop to luncheon, Lord Caversham, won’t you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. With +pleasure, and I’ll drive you down to Downing Street +afterwards, Chiltern. You have a great future before you, a +great future. Wish I could say the same for you, sir. +[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">lord goring</span>.] But +your career will have to be entirely domestic.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes, father, I +prefer it domestic.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. And if you +don’t make this young lady an ideal husband, I’ll cut +you off with a shilling.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. An ideal +husband! Oh, I don’t think I should like that. +It sounds like something in the next world.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. What do you +want him to be then, dear?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">mabel chiltern</span>. He can be +what he chooses. All I want is to be . . . to be . . . oh! +a real wife to him.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Upon my word, +there is a good deal of common sense in that, Lady Chiltern.</p> + +<p>[<i>They all go out except</i> <span class="smcap">sir robert +chiltern</span>. <i>He sinks in a chair</i>, <i>wrapt in +thought</i>. <i>After a little time</i> <span +class="smcap">lady chiltern</span> <i>returns to look for +him</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>Leaning +over the back of the chair</i>.] Aren’t you coming +in, Robert?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. +[<i>Taking her hand</i>.] Gertrude, is it love you feel for +me, or is it pity merely?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">lady chiltern</span>. [<i>Kisses +him</i>.] It is love, Robert. Love, and only +love. For both of us a new life is beginning.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="smcap">Curtain</span></p> +<div class="gapspace"></div> +<div class="gapshortline"></div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">the +northumberland press</span>, <span +class="smcap">newcastle-upon-tyne</span></p> + +<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN IDEAL HUSBAND ***</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 885-h.htm or 885-h.zip</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/8/8/885/</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..38c4d68 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #885 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/885) diff --git a/old/885.txt b/old/885.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5534012 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/885.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4864 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of An Ideal Husband, by Oscar Wilde + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: An Ideal Husband + A Play + + +Author: Oscar Wilde + + + +Release Date: March 27, 2009 [eBook #885] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN IDEAL HUSBAND*** + + +Transcribed from the 1912 Methuen and Co. edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + + AN IDEAL HUSBAND + + + A PLAY + + BY + OSCAR WILDE + + * * * * * + + METHUEN & CO. LTD. + 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. + LONDON + + * * * * * + + _First Published_, _at 1s. net_, _in 1912_ + + * * * * * + +_This book was First Published in 1893_ + +_First Published_ (_Second Edition_) _by _February_ _1908_ +Methuen & Co._ +_Third Edition_ _October_ _1909_ +_Fourth edition_ _October_ _1910_ +_Fifth Edition_ _May_ _1912_ + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + + +THE EARL OF CAVERSHAM, K.G. + +VISCOUNT GORING, his Son + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN, Bart., Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC, Attache at the French Embassy in London + +MR. MONTFORD + +MASON, Butler to Sir Robert Chiltern + +PHIPPS, Lord Goring's Servant + +JAMES } + +HAROLD } Footmen + +LADY CHILTERN + +LADY MARKBY + +THE COUNTESS OF BASILDON + +MRS. MARCHMONT + +MISS MABEL CHILTERN, Sir Robert Chiltern's Sister + +MRS. CHEVELEY + + + + +THE SCENES OF THE PLAY + + +ACT I. _The Octagon Room in Sir Robert Chiltern's House in Grosvenor +Square_. + +ACT II. _Morning-room in Sir Robert Chiltern's House_. + +ACT III. _The Library of Lord Goring's House in Curzon Street_. + +ACT IV. _Same as Act II_. + +TIME: _The Present_ + +PLACE: _London_. + + _The action of the play is completed within twenty-four hours_. + + + + +THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET + + + _Sole Lessee_: _Mr. Herbert Beerbohm Tree_ + + _Managers_: _Mr. Lewis Waller and Mr. H. H. Morell_ + + _January_ 3_rd_, 1895 + +THE EARL OF CAVERSHAM _Mr. Alfred Bishop_. +VISCOUNT GORING _Mr. Charles H. Hawtrey_. +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _Mr. Lewis Waller_. +VICOMTE DE NANJAC _Mr. Cosmo Stuart_. +MR. MONTFORD _Mr. Harry Stanford_. +PHIPPS _Mr. C. H. Brookfield_. +MASON _Mr. H. Deane_. +JAMES _Mr. Charles Meyrick_. +HAROLD _Mr. Goodhart_. +LADY CHILTERN _Miss Julia Neilson_. +LADY MARKBY _Miss Fanny Brough_. +COUNTESS OF BASILDON _Miss Vane Featherston_. +MRS. MARCHMONT _Miss Helen Forsyth_. +MISS MABEL CHILTERN _Miss Maud Millet_. +MRS. CHEVELEY _Miss Florence West_. + + + + +FIRST ACT + + +SCENE + + +_The octagon room at Sir Robert Chiltern's house in Grosvenor Square_. + +[_The room is brilliantly lighted and full of guests_. _At the top of +the staircase stands_ LADY CHILTERN, _a woman of grave Greek beauty_, +_about twenty-seven years of age_. _She receives the guests as they come +up_. _Over the well of the staircase hangs a great chandelier with wax +lights_, _which illumine a large eighteenth-century French +tapestry--representing the Triumph of Love_, _from a design by +Boucher--that is stretched on the staircase wall_. _On the right is the +entrance to the music-room_. _The sound of a string quartette is faintly +heard_. _The entrance on the left leads to other reception-rooms_. MRS. +MARCHMONT _and_ LADY BASILDON, _two very pretty women_, _are seated +together on a Louis Seize sofa_. _They are types of exquisite +fragility_. _Their affectation of manner has a delicate charm_. +_Watteau would have loved to paint them_.] + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Going on to the Hartlocks' to-night, Margaret? + +LADY BASILDON. I suppose so. Are you? + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Yes. Horribly tedious parties they give, don't they? + +LADY BASILDON. Horribly tedious! Never know why I go. Never know why I +go anywhere. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. I come here to be educated. + +LADY BASILDON. Ah! I hate being educated! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. So do I. It puts one almost on a level with the +commercial classes, doesn't it? But dear Gertrude Chiltern is always +telling me that I should have some serious purpose in life. So I come +here to try to find one. + +LADY BASILDON. [_Looking round through her lorgnette_.] I don't see +anybody here to-night whom one could possibly call a serious purpose. +The man who took me in to dinner talked to me about his wife the whole +time. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. How very trivial of him! + +LADY BASILDON. Terribly trivial! What did your man talk about? + +MRS. MARCHMONT. About myself. + +LADY BASILDON. [_Languidly_.] And were you interested? + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Shaking her head_.] Not in the smallest degree. + +LADY BASILDON. What martyrs we are, dear Margaret! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Rising_.] And how well it becomes us, Olivia! + +[_They rise and go towards the music-room_. _The_ VICOMTE DE NANJAC, _a +young attache known for his neckties and his Anglomania_, _approaches +with a low bow_, _and enters into conversation_.] + +MASON. [_Announcing guests from the top of the staircase_.] Mr. and +Lady Jane Barford. Lord Caversham. + +[_Enter_ LORD CAVERSHAM, _an old gentleman of seventy_, _wearing the +riband and star of the Garter_. _A fine Whig type_. _Rather like a +portrait by Lawrence_.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Good evening, Lady Chiltern! Has my good-for-nothing +young son been here? + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Smiling_.] I don't think Lord Goring has arrived yet. + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_Coming up to_ LORD CAVERSHAM.] Why do you call Lord +Goring good-for-nothing? + +[MABEL CHILTERN _is a perfect example of the English type of prettiness_, +_the apple-blossom type_. _She has all the fragrance and freedom of a +flower_. _There is ripple after ripple of sunlight in her hair_, _and +the little mouth_, _with its parted lips_, _is expectant_, _like the +mouth of a child_. _She has the fascinating tyranny of youth_, _and the +astonishing courage of innocence_. _To sane people she is not +reminiscent of any work of art_. _But she is really like a Tanagra +statuette_, _and would be rather annoyed if she were told so_.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Because he leads such an idle life. + +MABEL CHILTERN. How can you say such a thing? Why, he rides in the Row +at ten o'clock in the morning, goes to the Opera three times a week, +changes his clothes at least five times a day, and dines out every night +of the season. You don't call that leading an idle life, do you? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Looking at her with a kindly twinkle in his eyes_.] +You are a very charming young lady! + +MABEL CHILTERN. How sweet of you to say that, Lord Caversham! Do come +to us more often. You know we are always at home on Wednesdays, and you +look so well with your star! + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Never go anywhere now. Sick of London Society. +Shouldn't mind being introduced to my own tailor; he always votes on the +right side. But object strongly to being sent down to dinner with my +wife's milliner. Never could stand Lady Caversham's bonnets. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Oh, I love London Society! I think it has immensely +improved. It is entirely composed now of beautiful idiots and brilliant +lunatics. Just what Society should be. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Hum! Which is Goring? Beautiful idiot, or the other +thing? + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_Gravely_.] I have been obliged for the present to put +Lord Goring into a class quite by himself. But he is developing +charmingly! + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Into what? + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_With a little curtsey_.] I hope to let you know very +soon, Lord Caversham! + +MASON. [_Announcing guests_.] Lady Markby. Mrs. Cheveley. + +[_Enter_ LADY MARKBY _and_ MRS. CHEVELEY. LADY MARKBY _is a pleasant_, +_kindly_, _popular woman_, _with gray hair a la marquise and good lace_. +MRS. CHEVELEY, _who accompanies her_, _is tall and rather slight_. _Lips +very thin and highly-coloured_, _a line of scarlet on a pallid face_. +_Venetian red hair_, _aquiline nose_, _and long throat_. _Rouge +accentuates the natural paleness of her complexion_. _Gray-green eyes +that move restlessly_. _She is in heliotrope_, _with diamonds_. _She +looks rather like an orchid_, _and makes great demands on one's +curiosity_. _In all her movements she is extremely graceful_. _A work +of art_, _on the whole_, _but showing the influence of too many +schools_.] + +LADY MARKBY. Good evening, dear Gertrude! So kind of you to let me +bring my friend, Mrs. Cheveley. Two such charming women should know each +other! + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Advances towards_ MRS. CHEVELEY _with a sweet smile_. +_Then suddenly stops_, _and bows rather distantly_.] I think Mrs. +Cheveley and I have met before. I did not know she had married a second +time. + +LADY MARKBY. [_Genially_.] Ah, nowadays people marry as often as they +can, don't they? It is most fashionable. [_To_ DUCHESS OF MARYBOROUGH.] +Dear Duchess, and how is the Duke? Brain still weak, I suppose? Well, +that is only to be expected, is it not? His good father was just the +same. There is nothing like race, is there? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Playing with her fan_.] But have we really met before, +Lady Chiltern? I can't remember where. I have been out of England for +so long. + +LADY CHILTERN. We were at school together, Mrs. Cheveley. + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_Superciliously_.] Indeed? I have forgotten all about my +schooldays. I have a vague impression that they were detestable. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Coldly_.] I am not surprised! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_In her sweetest manner_.] Do you know, I am quite +looking forward to meeting your clever husband, Lady Chiltern. Since he +has been at the Foreign Office, he has been so much talked of in Vienna. +They actually succeed in spelling his name right in the newspapers. That +in itself is fame, on the continent. + +LADY CHILTERN. I hardly think there will be much in common between you +and my husband, Mrs. Cheveley! [_Moves away_.] + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. Ah! chere Madame, queue surprise! I have not seen +you since Berlin! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Not since Berlin, Vicomte. Five years ago! + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. And you are younger and more beautiful than ever. +How do you manage it? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. By making it a rule only to talk to perfectly charming +people like yourself. + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. Ah! you flatter me. You butter me, as they say here. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Do they say that here? How dreadful of them! + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. Yes, they have a wonderful language. It should be +more widely known. + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _enters_. _A man of forty_, _but looking somewhat +younger_. _Clean-shaven_, _with finely-cut features_, _dark-haired and +dark-eyed_. _A personality of mark_. _Not popular--few personalities +are_. _But intensely admired by the few_, _and deeply respected by the +many_. _The note of his manner is that of perfect distinction_, _with a +slight touch of pride_. _One feels that he is conscious of the success +he has made in life_. _A nervous temperament_, _with a tired look_. +_The firmly-chiselled mouth and chin contrast strikingly with the +romantic expression in the deep-set eyes_. _The variance is suggestive +of an almost complete separation of passion and intellect_, _as though +thought and emotion were each isolated in its own sphere through some +violence of will-power_. _There is nervousness in the nostrils_, _and in +the pale_, _thin_, _pointed hands_. _It would be inaccurate to call him +picturesque_. _Picturesqueness cannot survive the House of Commons_. +_But Vandyck would have liked to have painted his head_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Good evening, Lady Markby! I hope you have brought +Sir John with you? + +LADY MARKBY. Oh! I have brought a much more charming person than Sir +John. Sir John's temper since he has taken seriously to politics has +become quite unbearable. Really, now that the House of Commons is trying +to become useful, it does a great deal of harm. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I hope not, Lady Markby. At any rate we do our +best to waste the public time, don't we? But who is this charming person +you have been kind enough to bring to us? + +LADY MARKBY. Her name is Mrs. Cheveley! One of the Dorsetshire +Cheveleys, I suppose. But I really don't know. Families are so mixed +nowadays. Indeed, as a rule, everybody turns out to be somebody else. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Mrs. Cheveley? I seem to know the name. + +LADY MARKBY. She has just arrived from Vienna. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Ah! yes. I think I know whom you mean. + +LADY MARKBY. Oh! she goes everywhere there, and has such pleasant +scandals about all her friends. I really must go to Vienna next winter. +I hope there is a good chef at the Embassy. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. If there is not, the Ambassador will certainly have +to be recalled. Pray point out Mrs. Cheveley to me. I should like to +see her. + +LADY MARKBY. Let me introduce you. [_To_ MRS. CHEVELEY.] My dear, Sir +Robert Chiltern is dying to know you! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Bowing_.] Every one is dying to know the +brilliant Mrs. Cheveley. Our attaches at Vienna write to us about +nothing else. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you, Sir Robert. An acquaintance that begins with +a compliment is sure to develop into a real friendship. It starts in the +right manner. And I find that I know Lady Chiltern already. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Really? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. She has just reminded me that we were at school +together. I remember it perfectly now. She always got the good conduct +prize. I have a distinct recollection of Lady Chiltern always getting +the good conduct prize! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Smiling_.] And what prizes did you get, Mrs. +Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. My prizes came a little later on in life. I don't think +any of them were for good conduct. I forget! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am sure they were for something charming! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I don't know that women are always rewarded for being +charming. I think they are usually punished for it! Certainly, more +women grow old nowadays through the faithfulness of their admirers than +through anything else! At least that is the only way I can account for +the terribly haggard look of most of your pretty women in London! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What an appalling philosophy that sounds! To +attempt to classify you, Mrs. Cheveley, would be an impertinence. But +may I ask, at heart, are you an optimist or a pessimist? Those seem to +be the only two fashionable religions left to us nowadays. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I'm neither. Optimism begins in a broad grin, and +Pessimism ends with blue spectacles. Besides, they are both of them +merely poses. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You prefer to be natural? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Sometimes. But it is such a very difficult pose to keep +up. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What would those modern psychological novelists, of +whom we hear so much, say to such a theory as that? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Ah! the strength of women comes from the fact that +psychology cannot explain us. Men can be analysed, women . . . merely +adored. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You think science cannot grapple with the problem +of women? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Science can never grapple with the irrational. That is +why it has no future before it, in this world. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And women represent the irrational. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Well-dressed women do. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_With a polite bow_.] I fear I could hardly agree +with you there. But do sit down. And now tell me, what makes you leave +your brilliant Vienna for our gloomy London--or perhaps the question is +indiscreet? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Questions are never indiscreet. Answers sometimes are. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Well, at any rate, may I know if it is politics or +pleasure? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Politics are my only pleasure. You see nowadays it is +not fashionable to flirt till one is forty, or to be romantic till one is +forty-five, so we poor women who are under thirty, or say we are, have +nothing open to us but politics or philanthropy. And philanthropy seems +to me to have become simply the refuge of people who wish to annoy their +fellow-creatures. I prefer politics. I think they are more . . . +becoming! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. A political life is a noble career! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Sometimes. And sometimes it is a clever game, Sir +Robert. And sometimes it is a great nuisance. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Which do you find it? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I? A combination of all three. [_Drops her fan_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Picks up fan_.] Allow me! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But you have not told me yet what makes you honour +London so suddenly. Our season is almost over. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh! I don't care about the London season! It is too +matrimonial. People are either hunting for husbands, or hiding from +them. I wanted to meet you. It is quite true. You know what a woman's +curiosity is. Almost as great as a man's! I wanted immensely to meet +you, and . . . to ask you to do something for me. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I hope it is not a little thing, Mrs. Cheveley. I +find that little things are so very difficult to do. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a moment's reflection_.] No, I don't think it is +quite a little thing. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am so glad. Do tell me what it is. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Later on. [_Rises_.] And now may I walk through your +beautiful house? I hear your pictures are charming. Poor Baron +Arnheim--you remember the Baron?--used to tell me you had some wonderful +Corots. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_With an almost imperceptible start_.] Did you +know Baron Arnheim well? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Smiling_.] Intimately. Did you? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. At one time. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Wonderful man, wasn't he? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_After a pause_.] He was very remarkable, in many +ways. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I often think it such a pity he never wrote his memoirs. +They would have been most interesting. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes: he knew men and cities well, like the old +Greek. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Without the dreadful disadvantage of having a Penelope +waiting at home for him. + +MASON. Lord Goring. + +[_Enter_ LORD GORING. _Thirty-four_, _but always says he is younger_. +_A well-bred_, _expressionless face_. _He is clever_, _but would not +like to be thought so_. _A flawless dandy_, _he would be annoyed if he +were considered romantic_. _He plays with life_, _and is on perfectly +good terms with the world_. _He is fond of being misunderstood_. _It +gives him a post of vantage_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Good evening, my dear Arthur! Mrs. Cheveley, allow +me to introduce to you Lord Goring, the idlest man in London. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I have met Lord Goring before. + +LORD GORING. [_Bowing_.] I did not think you would remember me, Mrs. +Cheveley. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. My memory is under admirable control. And are you still +a bachelor? + +LORD GORING. I . . . believe so. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. How very romantic! + +LORD GORING. Oh! I am not at all romantic. I am not old enough. I +leave romance to my seniors. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Lord Goring is the result of Boodle's Club, Mrs. +Cheveley. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. He reflects every credit on the institution. + +LORD GORING. May I ask are you staying in London long? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. That depends partly on the weather, partly on the +cooking, and partly on Sir Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You are not going to plunge us into a European war, +I hope? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. There is no danger, at present! + +[_She nods to_ LORD GORING, _with a look of amusement in her eyes_, _and +goes out with_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. LORD GORING _saunters over to_ MABEL +CHILTERN.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. You are very late! + +LORD GORING. Have you missed me? + +MABEL CHILTERN. Awfully! + +LORD GORING. Then I am sorry I did not stay away longer. I like being +missed. + +MABEL CHILTERN. How very selfish of you! + +LORD GORING. I am very selfish. + +MABEL CHILTERN. You are always telling me of your bad qualities, Lord +Goring. + +LORD GORING. I have only told you half of them as yet, Miss Mabel! + +MABEL CHILTERN. Are the others very bad? + +LORD GORING. Quite dreadful! When I think of them at night I go to +sleep at once. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Well, I delight in your bad qualities. I wouldn't have +you part with one of them. + +LORD GORING. How very nice of you! But then you are always nice. By +the way, I want to ask you a question, Miss Mabel. Who brought Mrs. +Cheveley here? That woman in heliotrope, who has just gone out of the +room with your brother? + +MABEL CHILTERN. Oh, I think Lady Markby brought her. Why do you ask? + +LORD GORING. I haven't seen her for years, that is all. + +MABEL CHILTERN. What an absurd reason! + +LORD GORING. All reasons are absurd. + +MABEL CHILTERN. What sort of a woman is she? + +LORD GORING. Oh! a genius in the daytime and a beauty at night! + +MABEL CHILTERN. I dislike her already. + +LORD GORING. That shows your admirable good taste. + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. [_Approaching_.] Ah, the English young lady is the +dragon of good taste, is she not? Quite the dragon of good taste. + +LORD GORING. So the newspapers are always telling us. + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. I read all your English newspapers. I find them so +amusing. + +LORD GORING. Then, my dear Nanjac, you must certainly read between the +lines. + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. I should like to, but my professor objects. [_To_ +MABEL CHILTERN.] May I have the pleasure of escorting you to the +music-room, Mademoiselle? + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_Looking very disappointed_.] Delighted, Vicomte, +quite delighted! [_Turning to_ LORD GORING.] Aren't you coming to the +music-room? + +LORD GORING. Not if there is any music going on, Miss Mabel. + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_Severely_.] The music is in German. You would not +understand it. + +[_Goes out with the_ VICOMTE DE NANJAC. LORD CAVERSHAM _comes up to his +son_.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir! what are you doing here? Wasting your life +as usual! You should be in bed, sir. You keep too late hours! I heard +of you the other night at Lady Rufford's dancing till four o'clock in the +morning! + +LORD GORING. Only a quarter to four, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Can't make out how you stand London Society. The thing +has gone to the dogs, a lot of damned nobodies talking about nothing. + +LORD GORING. I love talking about nothing, father. It is the only thing +I know anything about. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. You seem to me to be living entirely for pleasure. + +LORD GORING. What else is there to live for, father? Nothing ages like +happiness. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. You are heartless, sir, very heartless! + +LORD GORING. I hope not, father. Good evening, Lady Basildon! + +LADY BASILDON. [_Arching two pretty eyebrows_.] Are you here? I had no +idea you ever came to political parties! + +LORD GORING. I adore political parties. They are the only place left to +us where people don't talk politics. + +LADY BASILDON. I delight in talking politics. I talk them all day long. +But I can't bear listening to them. I don't know how the unfortunate men +in the House stand these long debates. + +LORD GORING. By never listening. + +LADY BASILDON. Really? + +LORD GORING. [_In his most serious manner_.] Of course. You see, it is +a very dangerous thing to listen. If one listens one may be convinced; +and a man who allows himself to be convinced by an argument is a +thoroughly unreasonable person. + +LADY BASILDON. Ah! that accounts for so much in men that I have never +understood, and so much in women that their husbands never appreciate in +them! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_With a sigh_.] Our husbands never appreciate anything +in us. We have to go to others for that! + +LADY BASILDON. [_Emphatically_.] Yes, always to others, have we not? + +LORD GORING. [_Smiling_.] And those are the views of the two ladies who +are known to have the most admirable husbands in London. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. That is exactly what we can't stand. My Reginald is +quite hopelessly faultless. He is really unendurably so, at times! +There is not the smallest element of excitement in knowing him. + +LORD GORING. How terrible! Really, the thing should be more widely +known! + +LADY BASILDON. Basildon is quite as bad; he is as domestic as if he was +a bachelor. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Pressing_ LADY BASILDON'S _hand_.] My poor Olivia! +We have married perfect husbands, and we are well punished for it. + +LORD GORING. I should have thought it was the husbands who were +punished. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Drawing herself up_.] Oh, dear no! They are as happy +as possible! And as for trusting us, it is tragic how much they trust +us. + +LADY BASILDON. Perfectly tragic! + +LORD GORING. Or comic, Lady Basildon? + +LADY BASILDON. Certainly not comic, Lord Goring. How unkind of you to +suggest such a thing! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. I am afraid Lord Goring is in the camp of the enemy, as +usual. I saw him talking to that Mrs. Cheveley when he came in. + +LORD GORING. Handsome woman, Mrs. Cheveley! + +LADY BASILDON. [_Stiffly_.] Please don't praise other women in our +presence. You might wait for us to do that! + +LORD GORING. I did wait. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Well, we are not going to praise her. I hear she went +to the Opera on Monday night, and told Tommy Rufford at supper that, as +far as she could see, London Society was entirely made up of dowdies and +dandies. + +LORD GORING. She is quite right, too. The men are all dowdies and the +women are all dandies, aren't they? + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_After a pause_.] Oh! do you really think that is what +Mrs. Cheveley meant? + +LORD GORING. Of course. And a very sensible remark for Mrs. Cheveley to +make, too. + +[_Enter_ MABEL CHILTERN. _She joins the group_.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. Why are you talking about Mrs. Cheveley? Everybody is +talking about Mrs. Cheveley! Lord Goring says--what did you say, Lord +Goring, about Mrs. Cheveley? Oh! I remember, that she was a genius in +the daytime and a beauty at night. + +LADY BASILDON. What a horrid combination! So very unnatural! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_In her most dreamy manner_.] I like looking at +geniuses, and listening to beautiful people. + +LORD GORING. Ah! that is morbid of you, Mrs. Marchmont! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Brightening to a look of real pleasure_.] I am so +glad to hear you say that. Marchmont and I have been married for seven +years, and he has never once told me that I was morbid. Men are so +painfully unobservant! + +LADY BASILDON. [_Turning to her_.] I have always said, dear Margaret, +that you were the most morbid person in London. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Ah! but you are always sympathetic, Olivia! + +MABEL CHILTERN. Is it morbid to have a desire for food? I have a great +desire for food. Lord Goring, will you give me some supper? + +LORD GORING. With pleasure, Miss Mabel. [_Moves away with her_.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. How horrid you have been! You have never talked to me +the whole evening! + +LORD GORING. How could I? You went away with the child-diplomatist. + +MABEL CHILTERN. You might have followed us. Pursuit would have been +only polite. I don't think I like you at all this evening! + +LORD GORING. I like you immensely. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Well, I wish you'd show it in a more marked way! [_They +go downstairs_.] + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Olivia, I have a curious feeling of absolute faintness. +I think I should like some supper very much. I know I should like some +supper. + +LADY BASILDON. I am positively dying for supper, Margaret! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Men are so horribly selfish, they never think of these +things. + +LADY BASILDON. Men are grossly material, grossly material! + +[_The_ VICOMTE DE NANJAC _enters from the music-room with some other +guests_. _After having carefully examined all the people present_, _he +approaches_ LADY BASILDON.] + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. May I have the honour of taking you down to supper, +Comtesse? + +LADY BASILDON. [_Coldly_.] I never take supper, thank you, Vicomte. +[_The_ VICOMTE _is about to retire_. LADY BASILDON, _seeing this_, +_rises at once and takes his arm_.] But I will come down with you with +pleasure. + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. I am so fond of eating! I am very English in all my +tastes. + +LADY BASILDON. You look quite English, Vicomte, quite English. + +[_They pass out_. MR. MONTFORD, _a perfectly groomed young dandy_, +_approaches_ MRS. MARCHMONT.] + +MR. MONTFORD. Like some supper, Mrs. Marchmont? + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Languidly_.] Thank you, Mr. Montford, I never touch +supper. [_Rises hastily and takes his arm_.] But I will sit beside you, +and watch you. + +MR. MONTFORD. I don't know that I like being watched when I am eating! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Then I will watch some one else. + +MR. MONTFORD. I don't know that I should like that either. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Severely_.] Pray, Mr. Montford, do not make these +painful scenes of jealousy in public! + +[_They go downstairs with the other guests_, _passing_ SIR ROBERT +CHILTERN _and_ MRS. CHEVELEY, _who now enter_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And are you going to any of our country houses +before you leave England, Mrs. Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, no! I can't stand your English house-parties. In +England people actually try to be brilliant at breakfast. That is so +dreadful of them! Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast. And then +the family skeleton is always reading family prayers. My stay in England +really depends on you, Sir Robert. [_Sits down on the sofa_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Taking a seat beside her_.] Seriously? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Quite seriously. I want to talk to you about a great +political and financial scheme, about this Argentine Canal Company, in +fact. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What a tedious, practical subject for you to talk +about, Mrs. Cheveley! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I like tedious, practical subjects. What I don't +like are tedious, practical people. There is a wide difference. +Besides, you are interested, I know, in International Canal schemes. You +were Lord Radley's secretary, weren't you, when the Government bought the +Suez Canal shares? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes. But the Suez Canal was a very great and +splendid undertaking. It gave us our direct route to India. It had +imperial value. It was necessary that we should have control. This +Argentine scheme is a commonplace Stock Exchange swindle. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. A speculation, Sir Robert! A brilliant, daring +speculation. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Believe me, Mrs. Cheveley, it is a swindle. Let us +call things by their proper names. It makes matters simpler. We have +all the information about it at the Foreign Office. In fact, I sent out +a special Commission to inquire into the matter privately, and they +report that the works are hardly begun, and as for the money already +subscribed, no one seems to know what has become of it. The whole thing +is a second Panama, and with not a quarter of the chance of success that +miserable affair ever had. I hope you have not invested in it. I am +sure you are far too clever to have done that. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I have invested very largely in it. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Who could have advised you to do such a foolish +thing? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Your old friend--and mine. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Who? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Baron Arnheim. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Frowning_.] Ah! yes. I remember hearing, at the +time of his death, that he had been mixed up in the whole affair. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. It was his last romance. His last but one, to do him +justice. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rising_.] But you have not seen my Corots yet. +They are in the music-room. Corots seem to go with music, don't they? +May I show them to you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Shaking her head_.] I am not in a mood to-night for +silver twilights, or rose-pink dawns. I want to talk business. +[_Motions to him with her fan to sit down again beside her_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I fear I have no advice to give you, Mrs. Cheveley, +except to interest yourself in something less dangerous. The success of +the Canal depends, of course, on the attitude of England, and I am going +to lay the report of the Commissioners before the House to-morrow night. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. That you must not do. In your own interests, Sir Robert, +to say nothing of mine, you must not do that. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Looking at her in wonder_.] In my own interests? +My dear Mrs. Cheveley, what do you mean? [_Sits down beside her_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Sir Robert, I will be quite frank with you. I want you +to withdraw the report that you had intended to lay before the House, on +the ground that you have reasons to believe that the Commissioners have +been prejudiced or misinformed, or something. Then I want you to say a +few words to the effect that the Government is going to reconsider the +question, and that you have reason to believe that the Canal, if +completed, will be of great international value. You know the sort of +things ministers say in cases of this kind. A few ordinary platitudes +will do. In modern life nothing produces such an effect as a good +platitude. It makes the whole world kin. Will you do that for me? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Mrs. Cheveley, you cannot be serious in making me +such a proposition! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I am quite serious. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Coldly_.] Pray allow me to believe that you are +not. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Speaking with great deliberation and emphasis_.] Ah! +but I am. And if you do what I ask you, I . . . will pay you very +handsomely! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Pay me! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am afraid I don't quite understand what you mean. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Leaning back on the sofa and looking at him_.] How +very disappointing! And I have come all the way from Vienna in order +that you should thoroughly understand me. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I fear I don't. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_In her most nonchalant manner_.] My dear Sir Robert, +you are a man of the world, and you have your price, I suppose. +Everybody has nowadays. The drawback is that most people are so +dreadfully expensive. I know I am. I hope you will be more reasonable +in your terms. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rises indignantly_.] If you will allow me, I +will call your carriage for you. You have lived so long abroad, Mrs. +Cheveley, that you seem to be unable to realise that you are talking to +an English gentleman. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Detains him by touching his arm with her fan_, _and +keeping it there while she is talking_.] I realise that I am talking to +a man who laid the foundation of his fortune by selling to a Stock +Exchange speculator a Cabinet secret. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Biting his lip_.] What do you mean? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Rising and facing him_.] I mean that I know the real +origin of your wealth and your career, and I have got your letter, too. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What letter? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Contemptuously_.] The letter you wrote to Baron +Arnheim, when you were Lord Radley's secretary, telling the Baron to buy +Suez Canal shares--a letter written three days before the Government +announced its own purchase. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Hoarsely_.] It is not true. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You thought that letter had been destroyed. How foolish +of you! It is in my possession. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. The affair to which you allude was no more than a +speculation. The House of Commons had not yet passed the bill; it might +have been rejected. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. It was a swindle, Sir Robert. Let us call things by +their proper names. It makes everything simpler. And now I am going to +sell you that letter, and the price I ask for it is your public support +of the Argentine scheme. You made your own fortune out of one canal. +You must help me and my friends to make our fortunes out of another! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It is infamous, what you propose--infamous! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, no! This is the game of life as we all have to play +it, Sir Robert, sooner or later! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I cannot do what you ask me. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You mean you cannot help doing it. You know you are +standing on the edge of a precipice. And it is not for you to make +terms. It is for you to accept them. Supposing you refuse-- + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What then? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. My dear Sir Robert, what then? You are ruined, that is +all! Remember to what a point your Puritanism in England has brought +you. In old days nobody pretended to be a bit better than his +neighbours. In fact, to be a bit better than one's neighbour was +considered excessively vulgar and middle-class. Nowadays, with our +modern mania for morality, every one has to pose as a paragon of purity, +incorruptibility, and all the other seven deadly virtues--and what is the +result? You all go over like ninepins--one after the other. Not a year +passes in England without somebody disappearing. Scandals used to lend +charm, or at least interest, to a man--now they crush him. And yours is +a very nasty scandal. You couldn't survive it. If it were known that as +a young man, secretary to a great and important minister, you sold a +Cabinet secret for a large sum of money, and that that was the origin of +your wealth and career, you would be hounded out of public life, you +would disappear completely. And after all, Sir Robert, why should you +sacrifice your entire future rather than deal diplomatically with your +enemy? For the moment I am your enemy. I admit it! And I am much +stronger than you are. The big battalions are on my side. You have a +splendid position, but it is your splendid position that makes you so +vulnerable. You can't defend it! And I am in attack. Of course I have +not talked morality to you. You must admit in fairness that I have +spared you that. Years ago you did a clever, unscrupulous thing; it +turned out a great success. You owe to it your fortune and position. +And now you have got to pay for it. Sooner or later we have all to pay +for what we do. You have to pay now. Before I leave you to-night, you +have got to promise me to suppress your report, and to speak in the House +in favour of this scheme. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What you ask is impossible. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You must make it possible. You are going to make it +possible. Sir Robert, you know what your English newspapers are like. +Suppose that when I leave this house I drive down to some newspaper +office, and give them this scandal and the proofs of it! Think of their +loathsome joy, of the delight they would have in dragging you down, of +the mud and mire they would plunge you in. Think of the hypocrite with +his greasy smile penning his leading article, and arranging the foulness +of the public placard. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Stop! You want me to withdraw the report and to +make a short speech stating that I believe there are possibilities in the +scheme? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Sitting down on the sofa_.] Those are my terms. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_In a low voice_.] I will give you any sum of +money you want. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Even you are not rich enough, Sir Robert, to buy back +your past. No man is. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I will not do what you ask me. I will not. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You have to. If you don't . . . [_Rises from the sofa_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Bewildered and unnerved_.] Wait a moment! What +did you propose? You said that you would give me back my letter, didn't +you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. That is agreed. I will be in the Ladies' Gallery +to-morrow night at half-past eleven. If by that time--and you will have +had heaps of opportunity--you have made an announcement to the House in +the terms I wish, I shall hand you back your letter with the prettiest +thanks, and the best, or at any rate the most suitable, compliment I can +think of. I intend to play quite fairly with you. One should always +play fairly . . . when one has the winning cards. The Baron taught me +that . . . amongst other things. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You must let me have time to consider your +proposal. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. No; you must settle now! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Give me a week--three days! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Impossible! I have got to telegraph to Vienna to-night. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My God! what brought you into my life? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Circumstances. [_Moves towards the door_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Don't go. I consent. The report shall be +withdrawn. I will arrange for a question to be put to me on the subject. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. I knew we should come to an amicable +agreement. I understood your nature from the first. I analysed you, +though you did not adore me. And now you can get my carriage for me, Sir +Robert. I see the people coming up from supper, and Englishmen always +get romantic after a meal, and that bores me dreadfully. [_Exit_ SIR +ROBERT CHILTERN.] + +[_Enter Guests_, LADY CHILTERN, LADY MARKBY, LORD CAVERSHAM, LADY +BASILDON, MRS. MARCHMONT, VICOMTE DE NANJAC, MR. MONTFORD.] + +LADY MARKBY. Well, dear Mrs. Cheveley, I hope you have enjoyed yourself. +Sir Robert is very entertaining, is he not? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Most entertaining! I have enjoyed my talk with him +immensely. + +LADY MARKBY. He has had a very interesting and brilliant career. And he +has married a most admirable wife. Lady Chiltern is a woman of the very +highest principles, I am glad to say. I am a little too old now, myself, +to trouble about setting a good example, but I always admire people who +do. And Lady Chiltern has a very ennobling effect on life, though her +dinner-parties are rather dull sometimes. But one can't have everything, +can one? And now I must go, dear. Shall I call for you to-morrow? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. + +LADY MARKBY. We might drive in the Park at five. Everything looks so +fresh in the Park now! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Except the people! + +LADY MARKBY. Perhaps the people are a little jaded. I have often +observed that the Season as it goes on produces a kind of softening of +the brain. However, I think anything is better than high intellectual +pressure. That is the most unbecoming thing there is. It makes the +noses of the young girls so particularly large. And there is nothing so +difficult to marry as a large nose; men don't like them. Good-night, +dear! [_To_ LADY CHILTERN.] Good-night, Gertrude! [_Goes out on_ LORD +CAVERSHAM'S _arm_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. What a charming house you have, Lady Chiltern! I have +spent a delightful evening. It has been so interesting getting to know +your husband. + +LADY CHILTERN. Why did you wish to meet my husband, Mrs. Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I will tell you. I wanted to interest him in this +Argentine Canal scheme, of which I dare say you have heard. And I found +him most susceptible,--susceptible to reason, I mean. A rare thing in a +man. I converted him in ten minutes. He is going to make a speech in +the House to-morrow night in favour of the idea. We must go to the +Ladies' Gallery and hear him! It will be a great occasion! + +LADY CHILTERN. There must be some mistake. That scheme could never have +my husband's support. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I assure you it's all settled. I don't regret my +tedious journey from Vienna now. It has been a great success. But, of +course, for the next twenty-four hours the whole thing is a dead secret. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Gently_.] A secret? Between whom? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a flash of amusement in her eyes_.] Between your +husband and myself. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Entering_.] Your carriage is here, Mrs. +Cheveley! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks! Good evening, Lady Chiltern! Good-night, Lord +Goring! I am at Claridge's. Don't you think you might leave a card? + +LORD GORING. If you wish it, Mrs. Cheveley! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, don't be so solemn about it, or I shall be obliged to +leave a card on you. In England I suppose that would hardly be +considered en regle. Abroad, we are more civilised. Will you see me +down, Sir Robert? Now that we have both the same interests at heart we +shall be great friends, I hope! + +[_Sails out on_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN'S _arm_. LADY CHILTERN _goes to the +top of the staircase and looks down at them as they descend_. _Her +expression is troubled_. _After a little time she is joined by some of +the guests_, _and passes with them into another reception-room_.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. What a horrid woman! + +LORD GORING. You should go to bed, Miss Mabel. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring! + +LORD GORING. My father told me to go to bed an hour ago. I don't see +why I shouldn't give you the same advice. I always pass on good advice. +It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use to oneself. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring, you are always ordering me out of the room. +I think it most courageous of you. Especially as I am not going to bed +for hours. [_Goes over to the sofa_.] You can come and sit down if you +like, and talk about anything in the world, except the Royal Academy, +Mrs. Cheveley, or novels in Scotch dialect. They are not improving +subjects. [_Catches sight of something that is lying on the sofa half +hidden by the cushion_.] What is this? Some one has dropped a diamond +brooch! Quite beautiful, isn't it? [_Shows it to him_.] I wish it was +mine, but Gertrude won't let me wear anything but pearls, and I am +thoroughly sick of pearls. They make one look so plain, so good and so +intellectual. I wonder whom the brooch belongs to. + +LORD GORING. I wonder who dropped it. + +MABEL CHILTERN. It is a beautiful brooch. + +LORD GORING. It is a handsome bracelet. + +MABEL CHILTERN. It isn't a bracelet. It's a brooch. + +LORD GORING. It can be used as a bracelet. [_Takes it from her_, _and_, +_pulling out a green letter-case_, _puts the ornament carefully in it_, +_and replaces the whole thing in his breast-pocket with the most perfect +sang froid_.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. What are you doing? + +LORD GORING. Miss Mabel, I am going to make a rather strange request to +you. + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_Eagerly_.] Oh, pray do! I have been waiting for it +all the evening. + +LORD GORING. [_Is a little taken aback_, _but recovers himself_.] Don't +mention to anybody that I have taken charge of this brooch. Should any +one write and claim it, let me know at once. + +MABEL CHILTERN. That is a strange request. + +LORD GORING. Well, you see I gave this brooch to somebody once, years +ago. + +MABEL CHILTERN. You did? + +LORD GORING. Yes. + +[LADY CHILTERN _enters alone_. _The other guests have gone_.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. Then I shall certainly bid you good-night. Good-night, +Gertrude! [_Exit_.] + +LADY CHILTERN. Good-night, dear! [_To_ LORD GORING.] You saw whom Lady +Markby brought here to-night? + +LORD GORING. Yes. It was an unpleasant surprise. What did she come +here for? + +LADY CHILTERN. Apparently to try and lure Robert to uphold some +fraudulent scheme in which she is interested. The Argentine Canal, in +fact. + +LORD GORING. She has mistaken her man, hasn't she? + +LADY CHILTERN. She is incapable of understanding an upright nature like +my husband's! + +LORD GORING. Yes. I should fancy she came to grief if she tried to get +Robert into her toils. It is extraordinary what astounding mistakes +clever women make. + +LADY CHILTERN. I don't call women of that kind clever. I call them +stupid! + +LORD GORING. Same thing often. Good-night, Lady Chiltern! + +LADY CHILTERN. Good-night! + +[_Enter_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My dear Arthur, you are not going? Do stop a +little! + +LORD GORING. Afraid I can't, thanks. I have promised to look in at the +Hartlocks'. I believe they have got a mauve Hungarian band that plays +mauve Hungarian music. See you soon. Good-bye! + +[_Exit_] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. How beautiful you look to-night, Gertrude! + +LADY CHILTERN. Robert, it is not true, is it? You are not going to lend +your support to this Argentine speculation? You couldn't! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Starting_.] Who told you I intended to do so? + +LADY CHILTERN. That woman who has just gone out, Mrs. Cheveley, as she +calls herself now. She seemed to taunt me with it. Robert, I know this +woman. You don't. We were at school together. She was untruthful, +dishonest, an evil influence on every one whose trust or friendship she +could win. I hated, I despised her. She stole things, she was a thief. +She was sent away for being a thief. Why do you let her influence you? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude, what you tell me may be true, but it +happened many years ago. It is best forgotten! Mrs. Cheveley may have +changed since then. No one should be entirely judged by their past. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Sadly_.] One's past is what one is. It is the only +way by which people should be judged. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. That is a hard saying, Gertrude! + +LADY CHILTERN. It is a true saying, Robert. And what did she mean by +boasting that she had got you to lend your support, your name, to a thing +I have heard you describe as the most dishonest and fraudulent scheme +there has ever been in political life? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Biting his lip_.] I was mistaken in the view I +took. We all may make mistakes. + +LADY CHILTERN. But you told me yesterday that you had received the +report from the Commission, and that it entirely condemned the whole +thing. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Walking up and down_.] I have reasons now to +believe that the Commission was prejudiced, or, at any rate, misinformed. +Besides, Gertrude, public and private life are different things. They +have different laws, and move on different lines. + +LADY CHILTERN. They should both represent man at his highest. I see no +difference between them. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Stopping_.] In the present case, on a matter of +practical politics, I have changed my mind. That is all. + +LADY CHILTERN. All! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Sternly_.] Yes! + +LADY CHILTERN. Robert! Oh! it is horrible that I should have to ask you +such a question--Robert, are you telling me the whole truth? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Why do you ask me such a question? + +LADY CHILTERN. [_After a pause_.] Why do you not answer it? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Sitting down_.] Gertrude, truth is a very +complex thing, and politics is a very complex business. There are wheels +within wheels. One may be under certain obligations to people that one +must pay. Sooner or later in political life one has to compromise. +Every one does. + +LADY CHILTERN. Compromise? Robert, why do you talk so differently +to-night from the way I have always heard you talk? Why are you changed? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am not changed. But circumstances alter things. + +LADY CHILTERN. Circumstances should never alter principles! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But if I told you-- + +LADY CHILTERN. What? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. That it was necessary, vitally necessary? + +LADY CHILTERN. It can never be necessary to do what is not honourable. +Or if it be necessary, then what is it that I have loved! But it is not, +Robert; tell me it is not. Why should it be? What gain would you get? +Money? We have no need of that! And money that comes from a tainted +source is a degradation. Power? But power is nothing in itself. It is +power to do good that is fine--that, and that only. What is it, then? +Robert, tell me why you are going to do this dishonourable thing! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude, you have no right to use that word. I +told you it was a question of rational compromise. It is no more than +that. + +LADY CHILTERN. Robert, that is all very well for other men, for men who +treat life simply as a sordid speculation; but not for you, Robert, not +for you. You are different. All your life you have stood apart from +others. You have never let the world soil you. To the world, as to +myself, you have been an ideal always. Oh! be that ideal still. That +great inheritance throw not away--that tower of ivory do not destroy. +Robert, men can love what is beneath them--things unworthy, stained, +dishonoured. We women worship when we love; and when we lose our +worship, we lose everything. Oh! don't kill my love for you, don't kill +that! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude! + +LADY CHILTERN. I know that there are men with horrible secrets in their +lives--men who have done some shameful thing, and who in some critical +moment have to pay for it, by doing some other act of shame--oh! don't +tell me you are such as they are! Robert, is there in your life any +secret dishonour or disgrace? Tell me, tell me at once, that-- + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. That what? + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Speaking very slowly_.] That our lives may drift +apart. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Drift apart? + +LADY CHILTERN. That they may be entirely separate. It would be better +for us both. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude, there is nothing in my past life that you +might not know. + +LADY CHILTERN. I was sure of it, Robert, I was sure of it. But why did +you say those dreadful things, things so unlike your real self? Don't +let us ever talk about the subject again. You will write, won't you, to +Mrs. Cheveley, and tell her that you cannot support this scandalous +scheme of hers? If you have given her any promise you must take it back, +that is all! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Must I write and tell her that? + +LADY CHILTERN. Surely, Robert! What else is there to do? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I might see her personally. It would be better. + +LADY CHILTERN. You must never see her again, Robert. She is not a woman +you should ever speak to. She is not worthy to talk to a man like you. +No; you must write to her at once, now, this moment, and let your letter +show her that your decision is quite irrevocable! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Write this moment! + +LADY CHILTERN. Yes. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But it is so late. It is close on twelve. + +LADY CHILTERN. That makes no matter. She must know at once that she has +been mistaken in you--and that you are not a man to do anything base or +underhand or dishonourable. Write here, Robert. Write that you decline +to support this scheme of hers, as you hold it to be a dishonest scheme. +Yes--write the word dishonest. She knows what that word means. [SIR +ROBERT CHILTERN _sits down and writes a letter_. _His wife takes it up +and reads it_.] Yes; that will do. [_Rings bell_.] And now the +envelope. [_He writes the envelope slowly_. _Enter_ MASON.] Have this +letter sent at once to Claridge's Hotel. There is no answer. [_Exit_ +MASON. LADY CHILTERN _kneels down beside her husband_, _and puts her +arms around him_.] Robert, love gives one an instinct to things. I feel +to-night that I have saved you from something that might have been a +danger to you, from something that might have made men honour you less +than they do. I don't think you realise sufficiently, Robert, that you +have brought into the political life of our time a nobler atmosphere, a +finer attitude towards life, a freer air of purer aims and higher +ideals--I know it, and for that I love you, Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh, love me always, Gertrude, love me always! + +LADY CHILTERN. I will love you always, because you will always be worthy +of love. We needs must love the highest when we see it! [_Kisses him +and rises and goes out_.] + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _walks up and down for a moment_; _then sits down +and buries his face in his hands_. _The Servant enters and begins +pulling out the lights_. SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _looks up_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Put out the lights, Mason, put out the lights! + +[_The Servant puts out the lights_. _The room becomes almost dark_. +_The only light there is comes from the great chandelier that hangs over +the staircase and illumines the tapestry of the Triumph of Love_.] + + ACT DROP + + + + +SECOND ACT + + +SCENE + + +_Morning-room at Sir Robert Chiltern's house_. + +[LORD GORING, _dressed in the height of fashion_, _is lounging in an +armchair_. SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _is standing in front of the fireplace_. +_He is evidently in a state of great mental excitement and distress_. +_As the scene progresses he paces nervously up and down the room_.] + +LORD GORING. My dear Robert, it's a very awkward business, very awkward +indeed. You should have told your wife the whole thing. Secrets from +other people's wives are a necessary luxury in modern life. So, at +least, I am always told at the club by people who are bald enough to know +better. But no man should have a secret from his own wife. She +invariably finds it out. Women have a wonderful instinct about things. +They can discover everything except the obvious. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur, I couldn't tell my wife. When could I have +told her? Not last night. It would have made a life-long separation +between us, and I would have lost the love of the one woman in the world +I worship, of the only woman who has ever stirred love within me. Last +night it would have been quite impossible. She would have turned from me +in horror . . . in horror and in contempt. + +LORD GORING. Is Lady Chiltern as perfect as all that? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes; my wife is as perfect as all that. + +LORD GORING. [_Taking off his left-hand glove_.] What a pity! I beg +your pardon, my dear fellow, I didn't quite mean that. But if what you +tell me is true, I should like to have a serious talk about life with +Lady Chiltern. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It would be quite useless. + +LORD GORING. May I try? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes; but nothing could make her alter her views. + +LORD GORING. Well, at the worst it would simply be a psychological +experiment. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. All such experiments are terribly dangerous. + +LORD GORING. Everything is dangerous, my dear fellow. If it wasn't so, +life wouldn't be worth living. . . . Well, I am bound to say that I think +you should have told her years ago. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. When? When we were engaged? Do you think she +would have married me if she had known that the origin of my fortune is +such as it is, the basis of my career such as it is, and that I had done +a thing that I suppose most men would call shameful and dishonourable? + +LORD GORING. [_Slowly_.] Yes; most men would call it ugly names. There +is no doubt of that. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Bitterly_.] Men who every day do something of +the same kind themselves. Men who, each one of them, have worse secrets +in their own lives. + +LORD GORING. That is the reason they are so pleased to find out other +people's secrets. It distracts public attention from their own. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And, after all, whom did I wrong by what I did? No +one. + +LORD GORING. [_Looking at him steadily_.] Except yourself, Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_After a pause_.] Of course I had private +information about a certain transaction contemplated by the Government of +the day, and I acted on it. Private information is practically the +source of every large modern fortune. + +LORD GORING. [_Tapping his boot with his cane_.] And public scandal +invariably the result. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Pacing up and down the room_.] Arthur, do you +think that what I did nearly eighteen years ago should be brought up +against me now? Do you think it fair that a man's whole career should be +ruined for a fault done in one's boyhood almost? I was twenty-two at the +time, and I had the double misfortune of being well-born and poor, two +unforgiveable things nowadays. Is it fair that the folly, the sin of +one's youth, if men choose to call it a sin, should wreck a life like +mine, should place me in the pillory, should shatter all that I have +worked for, all that I have built up. Is it fair, Arthur? + +LORD GORING. Life is never fair, Robert. And perhaps it is a good thing +for most of us that it is not. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Every man of ambition has to fight his century with +its own weapons. What this century worships is wealth. The God of this +century is wealth. To succeed one must have wealth. At all costs one +must have wealth. + +LORD GORING. You underrate yourself, Robert. Believe me, without wealth +you could have succeeded just as well. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. When I was old, perhaps. When I had lost my +passion for power, or could not use it. When I was tired, worn out, +disappointed. I wanted my success when I was young. Youth is the time +for success. I couldn't wait. + +LORD GORING. Well, you certainly have had your success while you are +still young. No one in our day has had such a brilliant success. +Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs at the age of forty--that's good +enough for any one, I should think. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And if it is all taken away from me now? If I lose +everything over a horrible scandal? If I am hounded from public life? + +LORD GORING. Robert, how could you have sold yourself for money? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Excitedly_.] I did not sell myself for money. I +bought success at a great price. That is all. + +LORD GORING. [_Gravely_.] Yes; you certainly paid a great price for it. +But what first made you think of doing such a thing? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Baron Arnheim. + +LORD GORING. Damned scoundrel! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. No; he was a man of a most subtle and refined +intellect. A man of culture, charm, and distinction. One of the most +intellectual men I ever met. + +LORD GORING. Ah! I prefer a gentlemanly fool any day. There is more to +be said for stupidity than people imagine. Personally I have a great +admiration for stupidity. It is a sort of fellow-feeling, I suppose. +But how did he do it? Tell me the whole thing. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Throws himself into an armchair by the +writing-table_.] One night after dinner at Lord Radley's the Baron began +talking about success in modern life as something that one could reduce +to an absolutely definite science. With that wonderfully fascinating +quiet voice of his he expounded to us the most terrible of all +philosophies, the philosophy of power, preached to us the most marvellous +of all gospels, the gospel of gold. I think he saw the effect he had +produced on me, for some days afterwards he wrote and asked me to come +and see him. He was living then in Park Lane, in the house Lord Woolcomb +has now. I remember so well how, with a strange smile on his pale, +curved lips, he led me through his wonderful picture gallery, showed me +his tapestries, his enamels, his jewels, his carved ivories, made me +wonder at the strange loveliness of the luxury in which he lived; and +then told me that luxury was nothing but a background, a painted scene in +a play, and that power, power over other men, power over the world, was +the one thing worth having, the one supreme pleasure worth knowing, the +one joy one never tired of, and that in our century only the rich +possessed it. + +LORD GORING. [_With great deliberation_.] A thoroughly shallow creed. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rising_.] I didn't think so then. I don't think +so now. Wealth has given me enormous power. It gave me at the very +outset of my life freedom, and freedom is everything. You have never +been poor, and never known what ambition is. You cannot understand what +a wonderful chance the Baron gave me. Such a chance as few men get. + +LORD GORING. Fortunately for them, if one is to judge by results. But +tell me definitely, how did the Baron finally persuade you to--well, to +do what you did? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. When I was going away he said to me that if I ever +could give him any private information of real value he would make me a +very rich man. I was dazed at the prospect he held out to me, and my +ambition and my desire for power were at that time boundless. Six weeks +later certain private documents passed through my hands. + +LORD GORING. [_Keeping his eyes steadily fixed on the carpet_.] State +documents? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes. [LORD GORING _sighs_, _then passes his hand +across his forehead and looks up_.] + +LORD GORING. I had no idea that you, of all men in the world, could have +been so weak, Robert, as to yield to such a temptation as Baron Arnheim +held out to you. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Weak? Oh, I am sick of hearing that phrase. Sick +of using it about others. Weak? Do you really think, Arthur, that it is +weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible +temptations that it requires strength, strength and courage, to yield to. +To stake all one's life on a single moment, to risk everything on one +throw, whether the stake be power or pleasure, I care not--there is no +weakness in that. There is a horrible, a terrible courage. I had that +courage. I sat down the same afternoon and wrote Baron Arnheim the +letter this woman now holds. He made three-quarters of a million over +the transaction. + +LORD GORING. And you? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I received from the Baron 110,000 pounds. + +LORD GORING. You were worth more, Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. No; that money gave me exactly what I wanted, power +over others. I went into the House immediately. The Baron advised me in +finance from time to time. Before five years I had almost trebled my +fortune. Since then everything that I have touched has turned out a +success. In all things connected with money I have had a luck so +extraordinary that sometimes it has made me almost afraid. I remember +having read somewhere, in some strange book, that when the gods wish to +punish us they answer our prayers. + +LORD GORING. But tell me, Robert, did you never suffer any regret for +what you had done? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. No. I felt that I had fought the century with its +own weapons, and won. + +LORD GORING. [_Sadly_.] You thought you had won. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I thought so. [_After a long pause_.] Arthur, do +you despise me for what I have told you? + +LORD GORING. [_With deep feeling in his voice_.] I am very sorry for +you, Robert, very sorry indeed. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I don't say that I suffered any remorse. I didn't. +Not remorse in the ordinary, rather silly sense of the word. But I have +paid conscience money many times. I had a wild hope that I might disarm +destiny. The sum Baron Arnheim gave me I have distributed twice over in +public charities since then. + +LORD GORING. [_Looking up_.] In public charities? Dear me! what a lot +of harm you must have done, Robert! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh, don't say that, Arthur; don't talk like that! + +LORD GORING. Never mind what I say, Robert! I am always saying what I +shouldn't say. In fact, I usually say what I really think. A great +mistake nowadays. It makes one so liable to be misunderstood. As +regards this dreadful business, I will help you in whatever way I can. +Of course you know that. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thank you, Arthur, thank you. But what is to be +done? What can be done? + +LORD GORING. [_Leaning back with his hands in his pockets_.] Well, the +English can't stand a man who is always saying he is in the right, but +they are very fond of a man who admits that he has been in the wrong. It +is one of the best things in them. However, in your case, Robert, a +confession would not do. The money, if you will allow me to say so, is +. . . awkward. Besides, if you did make a clean breast of the whole +affair, you would never be able to talk morality again. And in England a +man who can't talk morality twice a week to a large, popular, immoral +audience is quite over as a serious politician. There would be nothing +left for him as a profession except Botany or the Church. A confession +would be of no use. It would ruin you. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It would ruin me. Arthur, the only thing for me to +do now is to fight the thing out. + +LORD GORING. [_Rising from his chair_.] I was waiting for you to say +that, Robert. It is the only thing to do now. And you must begin by +telling your wife the whole story. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. That I will not do. + +LORD GORING. Robert, believe me, you are wrong. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I couldn't do it. It would kill her love for me. +And now about this woman, this Mrs. Cheveley. How can I defend myself +against her? You knew her before, Arthur, apparently. + +LORD GORING. Yes. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Did you know her well? + +LORD GORING. [_Arranging his necktie_.] So little that I got engaged to +be married to her once, when I was staying at the Tenbys'. The affair +lasted for three days . . . nearly. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Why was it broken off? + +LORD GORING. [_Airily_.] Oh, I forget. At least, it makes no matter. +By the way, have you tried her with money? She used to be confoundedly +fond of money. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I offered her any sum she wanted. She refused. + +LORD GORING. Then the marvellous gospel of gold breaks down sometimes. +The rich can't do everything, after all. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Not everything. I suppose you are right. Arthur, +I feel that public disgrace is in store for me. I feel certain of it. I +never knew what terror was before. I know it now. It is as if a hand of +ice were laid upon one's heart. It is as if one's heart were beating +itself to death in some empty hollow. + +LORD GORING. [_Striking the table_.] Robert, you must fight her. You +must fight her. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But how? + +LORD GORING. I can't tell you how at present. I have not the smallest +idea. But every one has some weak point. There is some flaw in each one +of us. [_Strolls to the fireplace and looks at himself in the glass_.] +My father tells me that even I have faults. Perhaps I have. I don't +know. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. In defending myself against Mrs. Cheveley, I have a +right to use any weapon I can find, have I not? + +LORD GORING. [_Still looking in the glass_.] In your place I don't +think I should have the smallest scruple in doing so. She is thoroughly +well able to take care of herself. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Sits down at the table and takes a pen in his +hand_.] Well, I shall send a cipher telegram to the Embassy at Vienna, +to inquire if there is anything known against her. There may be some +secret scandal she might be afraid of. + +LORD GORING. [_Settling his buttonhole_.] Oh, I should fancy Mrs. +Cheveley is one of those very modern women of our time who find a new +scandal as becoming as a new bonnet, and air them both in the Park every +afternoon at five-thirty. I am sure she adores scandals, and that the +sorrow of her life at present is that she can't manage to have enough of +them. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Writing_.] Why do you say that? + +LORD GORING. [_Turning round_.] Well, she wore far too much rouge last +night, and not quite enough clothes. That is always a sign of despair in +a woman. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Striking a bell_.] But it is worth while my +wiring to Vienna, is it not? + +LORD GORING. It is always worth while asking a question, though it is +not always worth while answering one. + +[_Enter_ MASON.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Is Mr. Trafford in his room? + +MASON. Yes, Sir Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Puts what he has written into an envelope_, +_which he then carefully closes_.] Tell him to have this sent off in +cipher at once. There must not be a moment's delay. + +MASON. Yes, Sir Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh! just give that back to me again. + +[_Writes something on the envelope_. MASON _then goes out with the +letter_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. She must have had some curious hold over Baron +Arnheim. I wonder what it was. + +LORD GORING. [_Smiling_.] I wonder. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I will fight her to the death, as long as my wife +knows nothing. + +LORD GORING. [_Strongly_.] Oh, fight in any case--in any case. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_With a gesture of despair_.] If my wife found +out, there would be little left to fight for. Well, as soon as I hear +from Vienna, I shall let you know the result. It is a chance, just a +chance, but I believe in it. And as I fought the age with its own +weapons, I will fight her with her weapons. It is only fair, and she +looks like a woman with a past, doesn't she? + +LORD GORING. Most pretty women do. But there is a fashion in pasts just +as there is a fashion in frocks. Perhaps Mrs. Cheveley's past is merely +a slightly decollete one, and they are excessively popular nowadays. +Besides, my dear Robert, I should not build too high hopes on frightening +Mrs. Cheveley. I should not fancy Mrs. Cheveley is a woman who would be +easily frightened. She has survived all her creditors, and she shows +wonderful presence of mind. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh! I live on hopes now. I clutch at every chance. +I feel like a man on a ship that is sinking. The water is round my feet, +and the very air is bitter with storm. Hush! I hear my wife's voice. + +[_Enter_ LADY CHILTERN _in walking dress_.] + +LADY CHILTERN. Good afternoon, Lord Goring! + +LORD GORING. Good afternoon, Lady Chiltern! Have you been in the Park? + +LADY CHILTERN. No; I have just come from the Woman's Liberal +Association, where, by the way, Robert, your name was received with loud +applause, and now I have come in to have my tea. [_To_ LORD GORING.] +You will wait and have some tea, won't you? + +LORD GORING. I'll wait for a short time, thanks. + +LADY CHILTERN. I will be back in a moment. I am only going to take my +hat off. + +LORD GORING. [_In his most earnest manner_.] Oh! please don't. It is +so pretty. One of the prettiest hats I ever saw. I hope the Woman's +Liberal Association received it with loud applause. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_With a smile_.] We have much more important work to do +than look at each other's bonnets, Lord Goring. + +LORD GORING. Really? What sort of work? + +LADY CHILTERN. Oh! dull, useful, delightful things, Factory Acts, Female +Inspectors, the Eight Hours' Bill, the Parliamentary Franchise. . . . +Everything, in fact, that you would find thoroughly uninteresting. + +LORD GORING. And never bonnets? + +LADY CHILTERN. [_With mock indignation_.] Never bonnets, never! + +[LADY CHILTERN _goes out through the door leading to her boudoir_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Takes_ LORD GORING'S _hand_.] You have been a +good friend to me, Arthur, a thoroughly good friend. + +LORD GORING. I don't know that I have been able to do much for you, +Robert, as yet. In fact, I have not been able to do anything for you, as +far as I can see. I am thoroughly disappointed with myself. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You have enabled me to tell you the truth. That is +something. The truth has always stifled me. + +LORD GORING. Ah! the truth is a thing I get rid of as soon as possible! +Bad habit, by the way. Makes one very unpopular at the club . . . with +the older members. They call it being conceited. Perhaps it is. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I would to God that I had been able to tell the +truth . . . to live the truth. Ah! that is the great thing in life, to +live the truth. [_Sighs_, _and goes towards the door_.] I'll see you +soon again, Arthur, shan't I? + +LORD GORING. Certainly. Whenever you like. I'm going to look in at the +Bachelors' Ball to-night, unless I find something better to do. But I'll +come round to-morrow morning. If you should want me to-night by any +chance, send round a note to Curzon Street. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thank you. + +[_As he reaches the door_, LADY CHILTERN _enters from her boudoir_.] + +LADY CHILTERN. You are not going, Robert? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I have some letters to write, dear. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Going to him_.] You work too hard, Robert. You seem +never to think of yourself, and you are looking so tired. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It is nothing, dear, nothing. + +[_He kisses her and goes out_.] + +LADY CHILTERN. [_To_ LORD GORING.] Do sit down. I am so glad you have +called. I want to talk to you about . . . well, not about bonnets, or +the Woman's Liberal Association. You take far too much interest in the +first subject, and not nearly enough in the second. + +LORD GORING. You want to talk to me about Mrs. Cheveley? + +LADY CHILTERN. Yes. You have guessed it. After you left last night I +found out that what she had said was really true. Of course I made +Robert write her a letter at once, withdrawing his promise. + +LORD GORING. So he gave me to understand. + +LADY CHILTERN. To have kept it would have been the first stain on a +career that has been stainless always. Robert must be above reproach. +He is not like other men. He cannot afford to do what other men do. +[_She looks at_ LORD GORING, _who remains silent_.] Don't you agree with +me? You are Robert's greatest friend. You are our greatest friend, Lord +Goring. No one, except myself, knows Robert better than you do. He has +no secrets from me, and I don't think he has any from you. + +LORD GORING. He certainly has no secrets from me. At least I don't +think so. + +LADY CHILTERN. Then am I not right in my estimate of him? I know I am +right. But speak to me frankly. + +LORD GORING. [_Looking straight at her_.] Quite frankly? + +LADY CHILTERN. Surely. You have nothing to conceal, have you? + +LORD GORING. Nothing. But, my dear Lady Chiltern, I think, if you will +allow me to say so, that in practical life-- + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Smiling_.] Of which you know so little, Lord Goring-- + +LORD GORING. Of which I know nothing by experience, though I know +something by observation. I think that in practical life there is +something about success, actual success, that is a little unscrupulous, +something about ambition that is unscrupulous always. Once a man has set +his heart and soul on getting to a certain point, if he has to climb the +crag, he climbs the crag; if he has to walk in the mire-- + +LADY CHILTERN. Well? + +LORD GORING. He walks in the mire. Of course I am only talking +generally about life. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Gravely_.] I hope so. Why do you look at me so +strangely, Lord Goring? + +LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern, I have sometimes thought that . . . perhaps +you are a little hard in some of your views on life. I think that . . . +often you don't make sufficient allowances. In every nature there are +elements of weakness, or worse than weakness. Supposing, for instance, +that--that any public man, my father, or Lord Merton, or Robert, say, +had, years ago, written some foolish letter to some one . . . + +LADY CHILTERN. What do you mean by a foolish letter? + +LORD GORING. A letter gravely compromising one's position. I am only +putting an imaginary case. + +LADY CHILTERN. Robert is as incapable of doing a foolish thing as he is +of doing a wrong thing. + +LORD GORING. [_After a long pause_.] Nobody is incapable of doing a +foolish thing. Nobody is incapable of doing a wrong thing. + +LADY CHILTERN. Are you a Pessimist? What will the other dandies say? +They will all have to go into mourning. + +LORD GORING. [_Rising_.] No, Lady Chiltern, I am not a Pessimist. +Indeed I am not sure that I quite know what Pessimism really means. All +I do know is that life cannot be understood without much charity, cannot +be lived without much charity. It is love, and not German philosophy, +that is the true explanation of this world, whatever may be the +explanation of the next. And if you are ever in trouble, Lady Chiltern, +trust me absolutely, and I will help you in every way I can. If you ever +want me, come to me for my assistance, and you shall have it. Come at +once to me. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Looking at him in surprise_.] Lord Goring, you are +talking quite seriously. I don't think I ever heard you talk seriously +before. + +LORD GORING. [_Laughing_.] You must excuse me, Lady Chiltern. It won't +occur again, if I can help it. + +LADY CHILTERN. But I like you to be serious. + +[_Enter_ MABEL CHILTERN, _in the most ravishing frock_.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. Dear Gertrude, don't say such a dreadful thing to Lord +Goring. Seriousness would be very unbecoming to him. Good afternoon +Lord Goring! Pray be as trivial as you can. + +LORD GORING. I should like to, Miss Mabel, but I am afraid I am . . . a +little out of practice this morning; and besides, I have to be going now. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Just when I have come in! What dreadful manners you +have! I am sure you were very badly brought up. + +LORD GORING. I was. + +MABEL CHILTERN. I wish I had brought you up! + +LORD GORING. I am so sorry you didn't. + +MABEL CHILTERN. It is too late now, I suppose? + +LORD GORING. [_Smiling_.] I am not so sure. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Will you ride to-morrow morning? + +LORD GORING. Yes, at ten. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Don't forget. + +LORD GORING. Of course I shan't. By the way, Lady Chiltern, there is no +list of your guests in _The Morning Post_ of to-day. It has apparently +been crowded out by the County Council, or the Lambeth Conference, or +something equally boring. Could you let me have a list? I have a +particular reason for asking you. + +LADY CHILTERN. I am sure Mr. Trafford will be able to give you one. + +LORD GORING. Thanks, so much. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Tommy is the most useful person in London. + +LORD GORING [_Turning to her_.] And who is the most ornamental? + +MABEL CHILTERN [_Triumphantly_.] I am. + +LORD GORING. How clever of you to guess it! [_Takes up his hat and +cane_.] Good-bye, Lady Chiltern! You will remember what I said to you, +won't you? + +LADY CHILTERN. Yes; but I don't know why you said it to me. + +LORD GORING. I hardly know myself. Good-bye, Miss Mabel! + +MABEL CHILTERN [_With a little moue of disappointment_.] I wish you were +not going. I have had four wonderful adventures this morning; four and a +half, in fact. You might stop and listen to some of them. + +LORD GORING. How very selfish of you to have four and a half! There +won't be any left for me. + +MABEL CHILTERN. I don't want you to have any. They would not be good +for you. + +LORD GORING. That is the first unkind thing you have ever said to me. +How charmingly you said it! Ten to-morrow. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Sharp. + +LORD GORING. Quite sharp. But don't bring Mr. Trafford. + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_With a little toss of the head_.] Of course I shan't +bring Tommy Trafford. Tommy Trafford is in great disgrace. + +LORD GORING. I am delighted to hear it. [_Bows and goes out_.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. Gertrude, I wish you would speak to Tommy Trafford. + +LADY CHILTERN. What has poor Mr. Trafford done this time? Robert says +he is the best secretary he has ever had. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Well, Tommy has proposed to me again. Tommy really does +nothing but propose to me. He proposed to me last night in the +music-room, when I was quite unprotected, as there was an elaborate trio +going on. I didn't dare to make the smallest repartee, I need hardly +tell you. If I had, it would have stopped the music at once. Musical +people are so absurdly unreasonable. They always want one to be +perfectly dumb at the very moment when one is longing to be absolutely +deaf. Then he proposed to me in broad daylight this morning, in front of +that dreadful statue of Achilles. Really, the things that go on in front +of that work of art are quite appalling. The police should interfere. +At luncheon I saw by the glare in his eye that he was going to propose +again, and I just managed to check him in time by assuring him that I was +a bimetallist. Fortunately I don't know what bimetallism means. And I +don't believe anybody else does either. But the observation crushed +Tommy for ten minutes. He looked quite shocked. And then Tommy is so +annoying in the way he proposes. If he proposed at the top of his voice, +I should not mind so much. That might produce some effect on the public. +But he does it in a horrid confidential way. When Tommy wants to be +romantic he talks to one just like a doctor. I am very fond of Tommy, +but his methods of proposing are quite out of date. I wish, Gertrude, +you would speak to him, and tell him that once a week is quite often +enough to propose to any one, and that it should always be done in a +manner that attracts some attention. + +LADY CHILTERN. Dear Mabel, don't talk like that. Besides, Robert thinks +very highly of Mr. Trafford. He believes he has a brilliant future +before him. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! I wouldn't marry a man with a future before him for +anything under the sun. + +LADY CHILTERN. Mabel! + +MABEL CHILTERN. I know, dear. You married a man with a future, didn't +you? But then Robert was a genius, and you have a noble, +self-sacrificing character. You can stand geniuses. I have no character +at all, and Robert is the only genius I could ever bear. As a rule, I +think they are quite impossible. Geniuses talk so much, don't they? +Such a bad habit! And they are always thinking about themselves, when I +want them to be thinking about me. I must go round now and rehearse at +Lady Basildon's. You remember, we are having tableaux, don't you? The +Triumph of something, I don't know what! I hope it will be triumph of +me. Only triumph I am really interested in at present. [_Kisses_ LADY +CHILTERN _and goes out_; _then comes running back_.] Oh, Gertrude, do +you know who is coming to see you? That dreadful Mrs. Cheveley, in a +most lovely gown. Did you ask her? + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Rising_.] Mrs. Cheveley! Coming to see me? +Impossible! + +MABEL CHILTERN. I assure you she is coming upstairs, as large as life +and not nearly so natural. + +LADY CHILTERN. You need not wait, Mabel. Remember, Lady Basildon is +expecting you. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! I must shake hands with Lady Markby. She is +delightful. I love being scolded by her. + +[_Enter_ MASON.] + +MASON. Lady Markby. Mrs. Cheveley. + +[_Enter_ LADY MARKBY _and_ MRS. CHEVELEY.] + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Advancing to meet them_.] Dear Lady Markby, how nice +of you to come and see me! [_Shakes hands with her_, _and bows somewhat +distantly to_ MRS. CHEVELEY.] Won't you sit down, Mrs. Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. Isn't that Miss Chiltern? I should like so much +to know her. + +LADY CHILTERN. Mabel, Mrs. Cheveley wishes to know you. + +[MABEL CHILTERN _gives a little nod_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_Sitting down_.] I thought your frock so charming last +night, Miss Chiltern. So simple and . . . suitable. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Really? I must tell my dressmaker. It will be such a +surprise to her. Good-bye, Lady Markby! + +LADY MARKBY. Going already? + +MABEL CHILTERN. I am so sorry but I am obliged to. I am just off to +rehearsal. I have got to stand on my head in some tableaux. + +LADY MARKBY. On your head, child? Oh! I hope not. I believe it is most +unhealthy. [_Takes a seat on the sofa next_ LADY CHILTERN.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. But it is for an excellent charity: in aid of the +Undeserving, the only people I am really interested in. I am the +secretary, and Tommy Trafford is treasurer. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. And what is Lord Goring? + +MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! Lord Goring is president. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. The post should suit him admirably, unless he has +deteriorated since I knew him first. + +LADY MARKBY. [_Reflecting_.] You are remarkably modern, Mabel. A +little too modern, perhaps. Nothing is so dangerous as being too modern. +One is apt to grow old-fashioned quite suddenly. I have known many +instances of it. + +MABEL CHILTERN. What a dreadful prospect! + +LADY MARKBY. Ah! my dear, you need not be nervous. You will always be +as pretty as possible. That is the best fashion there is, and the only +fashion that England succeeds in setting. + +MABEL CHILTERN. [_With a curtsey_.] Thank you so much, Lady Markby, for +England . . . and myself. [_Goes out_.] + +LADY MARKBY. [_Turning to_ LADY CHILTERN.] Dear Gertrude, we just +called to know if Mrs. Cheveley's diamond brooch has been found. + +LADY CHILTERN. Here? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. I missed it when I got back to Claridge's, and I +thought I might possibly have dropped it here. + +LADY CHILTERN. I have heard nothing about it. But I will send for the +butler and ask. [_Touches the bell_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, pray don't trouble, Lady Chiltern. I dare say I lost +it at the Opera, before we came on here. + +LADY MARKBY. Ah yes, I suppose it must have been at the Opera. The fact +is, we all scramble and jostle so much nowadays that I wonder we have +anything at all left on us at the end of an evening. I know myself that, +when I am coming back from the Drawing Room, I always feel as if I hadn't +a shred on me, except a small shred of decent reputation, just enough to +prevent the lower classes making painful observations through the windows +of the carriage. The fact is that our Society is terribly +over-populated. Really, some one should arrange a proper scheme of +assisted emigration. It would do a great deal of good. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I quite agree with you, Lady Markby. It is nearly six +years since I have been in London for the Season, and I must say Society +has become dreadfully mixed. One sees the oddest people everywhere. + +LADY MARKBY. That is quite true, dear. But one needn't know them. I'm +sure I don't know half the people who come to my house. Indeed, from all +I hear, I shouldn't like to. + +[_Enter_ MASON.] + +LADY CHILTERN. What sort of a brooch was it that you lost, Mrs. +Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. A diamond snake-brooch with a ruby, a rather large ruby. + +LADY MARKBY. I thought you said there was a sapphire on the head, dear? + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_Smiling_.] No, lady Markby--a ruby. + +LADY MARKBY. [_Nodding her head_.] And very becoming, I am quite sure. + +LADY CHILTERN. Has a ruby and diamond brooch been found in any of the +rooms this morning, Mason? + +MASON. No, my lady. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. It really is of no consequence, Lady Chiltern. I am so +sorry to have put you to any inconvenience. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Coldly_.] Oh, it has been no inconvenience. That will +do, Mason. You can bring tea. + +[_Exit_ MASON.] + +LADY MARKBY. Well, I must say it is most annoying to lose anything. I +remember once at Bath, years ago, losing in the Pump Room an exceedingly +handsome cameo bracelet that Sir John had given me. I don't think he has +ever given me anything since, I am sorry to say. He has sadly +degenerated. Really, this horrid House of Commons quite ruins our +husbands for us. I think the Lower House by far the greatest blow to a +happy married life that there has been since that terrible thing called +the Higher Education of Women was invented. + +LADY CHILTERN. Ah! it is heresy to say that in this house, Lady Markby. +Robert is a great champion of the Higher Education of Women, and so, I am +afraid, am I. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. The higher education of men is what I should like to see. +Men need it so sadly. + +LADY MARKBY. They do, dear. But I am afraid such a scheme would be +quite unpractical. I don't think man has much capacity for development. +He has got as far as he can, and that is not far, is it? With regard to +women, well, dear Gertrude, you belong to the younger generation, and I +am sure it is all right if you approve of it. In my time, of course, we +were taught not to understand anything. That was the old system, and +wonderfully interesting it was. I assure you that the amount of things I +and my poor dear sister were taught not to understand was quite +extraordinary. But modern women understand everything, I am told. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Except their husbands. That is the one thing the modern +woman never understands. + +LADY MARKBY. And a very good thing too, dear, I dare say. It might +break up many a happy home if they did. Not yours, I need hardly say, +Gertrude. You have married a pattern husband. I wish I could say as +much for myself. But since Sir John has taken to attending the debates +regularly, which he never used to do in the good old days, his language +has become quite impossible. He always seems to think that he is +addressing the House, and consequently whenever he discusses the state of +the agricultural labourer, or the Welsh Church, or something quite +improper of that kind, I am obliged to send all the servants out of the +room. It is not pleasant to see one's own butler, who has been with one +for twenty-three years, actually blushing at the side-board, and the +footmen making contortions in corners like persons in circuses. I assure +you my life will be quite ruined unless they send John at once to the +Upper House. He won't take any interest in politics then, will he? The +House of Lords is so sensible. An assembly of gentlemen. But in his +present state, Sir John is really a great trial. Why, this morning +before breakfast was half over, he stood up on the hearthrug, put his +hands in his pockets, and appealed to the country at the top of his +voice. I left the table as soon as I had my second cup of tea, I need +hardly say. But his violent language could be heard all over the house! +I trust, Gertrude, that Sir Robert is not like that? + +LADY CHILTERN. But I am very much interested in politics, Lady Markby. +I love to hear Robert talk about them. + +LADY MARKBY. Well, I hope he is not as devoted to Blue Books as Sir John +is. I don't think they can be quite improving reading for any one. + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_Languidly_.] I have never read a Blue Book. I prefer +books . . . in yellow covers. + +LADY MARKBY. [_Genially unconscious_.] Yellow is a gayer colour, is it +not? I used to wear yellow a good deal in my early days, and would do so +now if Sir John was not so painfully personal in his observations, and a +man on the question of dress is always ridiculous, is he not? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, no! I think men are the only authorities on dress. + +LADY MARKBY. Really? One wouldn't say so from the sort of hats they +wear? would one? + +[_The butler enters_, _followed by the footman_. _Tea is set on a small +table close to_ LADY CHILTERN.] + +LADY CHILTERN. May I give you some tea, Mrs. Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. [_The butler hands_ MRS. CHEVELEY _a cup of tea +on a salver_.] + +LADY CHILTERN. Some tea, Lady Markby? + +LADY MARKBY. No thanks, dear. [_The servants go out_.] The fact is, I +have promised to go round for ten minutes to see poor Lady Brancaster, +who is in very great trouble. Her daughter, quite a well-brought-up +girl, too, has actually become engaged to be married to a curate in +Shropshire. It is very sad, very sad indeed. I can't understand this +modern mania for curates. In my time we girls saw them, of course, +running about the place like rabbits. But we never took any notice of +them, I need hardly say. But I am told that nowadays country society is +quite honeycombed with them. I think it most irreligious. And then the +eldest son has quarrelled with his father, and it is said that when they +meet at the club Lord Brancaster always hides himself behind the money +article in _The Times_. However, I believe that is quite a common +occurrence nowadays and that they have to take in extra copies of _The +Times_ at all the clubs in St. James's Street; there are so many sons who +won't have anything to do with their fathers, and so many fathers who +won't speak to their sons. I think myself, it is very much to be +regretted. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. So do I. Fathers have so much to learn from their sons +nowadays. + +LADY MARKBY. Really, dear? What? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. The art of living. The only really Fine Art we have +produced in modern times. + +LADY MARKBY. [_Shaking her head_.] Ah! I am afraid Lord Brancaster +knew a good deal about that. More than his poor wife ever did. +[_Turning to_ LADY CHILTERN.] You know Lady Brancaster, don't you, dear? + +LADY CHILTERN. Just slightly. She was staying at Langton last autumn, +when we were there. + +LADY MARKBY. Well, like all stout women, she looks the very picture of +happiness, as no doubt you noticed. But there are many tragedies in her +family, besides this affair of the curate. Her own sister, Mrs. Jekyll, +had a most unhappy life; through no fault of her own, I am sorry to say. +She ultimately was so broken-hearted that she went into a convent, or on +to the operatic stage, I forget which. No; I think it was decorative +art-needlework she took up. I know she had lost all sense of pleasure in +life. [_Rising_.] And now, Gertrude, if you will allow me, I shall +leave Mrs. Cheveley in your charge and call back for her in a quarter of +an hour. Or perhaps, dear Mrs. Cheveley, you wouldn't mind waiting in +the carriage while I am with Lady Brancaster. As I intend it to be a +visit of condolence, I shan't stay long. + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_Rising_.] I don't mind waiting in the carriage at all, +provided there is somebody to look at one. + +LADY MARKBY. Well, I hear the curate is always prowling about the house. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I am afraid I am not fond of girl friends. + +LADY CHILTERN [_Rising_.] Oh, I hope Mrs. Cheveley will stay here a +little. I should like to have a few minutes' conversation with her. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. How very kind of you, Lady Chiltern! Believe me, nothing +would give me greater pleasure. + +LADY MARKBY. Ah! no doubt you both have many pleasant reminiscences of +your schooldays to talk over together. Good-bye, dear Gertrude! Shall I +see you at Lady Bonar's to-night? She has discovered a wonderful new +genius. He does . . . nothing at all, I believe. That is a great +comfort, is it not? + +LADY CHILTERN. Robert and I are dining at home by ourselves to-night, +and I don't think I shall go anywhere afterwards. Robert, of course, +will have to be in the House. But there is nothing interesting on. + +LADY MARKBY. Dining at home by yourselves? Is that quite prudent? Ah, +I forgot, your husband is an exception. Mine is the general rule, and +nothing ages a woman so rapidly as having married the general rule. +[_Exit_ LADY MARKBY.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Wonderful woman, Lady Markby, isn't she? Talks more and +says less than anybody I ever met. She is made to be a public speaker. +Much more so than her husband, though he is a typical Englishman, always +dull and usually violent. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Makes no answer_, _but remains standing_. _There is a +pause_. _Then the eyes of the two women meet_. LADY CHILTERN _looks +stern and pale_. MRS. CHEVELEY _seem rather amused_.] Mrs. Cheveley, I +think it is right to tell you quite frankly that, had I known who you +really were, I should not have invited you to my house last night. + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_With an impertinent smile_.] Really? + +LADY CHILTERN. I could not have done so. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I see that after all these years you have not changed a +bit, Gertrude. + +LADY CHILTERN. I never change. + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_Elevating her eyebrows_.] Then life has taught you +nothing? + +LADY CHILTERN. It has taught me that a person who has once been guilty +of a dishonest and dishonourable action may be guilty of it a second +time, and should be shunned. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Would you apply that rule to every one? + +LADY CHILTERN. Yes, to every one, without exception. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Then I am sorry for you, Gertrude, very sorry for you. + +LADY CHILTERN. You see now, I was sure, that for many reasons any +further acquaintance between us during your stay in London is quite +impossible? + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_Leaning back in her chair_.] Do you know, Gertrude, I +don't mind your talking morality a bit. Morality is simply the attitude +we adopt towards people whom we personally dislike. You dislike me. I +am quite aware of that. And I have always detested you. And yet I have +come here to do you a service. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Contemptuously_.] Like the service you wished to +render my husband last night, I suppose. Thank heaven, I saved him from +that. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Starting to her feet_.] It was you who made him write +that insolent letter to me? It was you who made him break his promise? + +LADY CHILTERN. Yes. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Then you must make him keep it. I give you till +to-morrow morning--no more. If by that time your husband does not +solemnly bind himself to help me in this great scheme in which I am +interested-- + +LADY CHILTERN. This fraudulent speculation-- + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Call it what you choose. I hold your husband in the +hollow of my hand, and if you are wise you will make him do what I tell +him. + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Rising and going towards her_.] You are impertinent. +What has my husband to do with you? With a woman like you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY [_With a bitter laugh_.] In this world like meets with +like. It is because your husband is himself fraudulent and dishonest +that we pair so well together. Between you and him there are chasms. He +and I are closer than friends. We are enemies linked together. The same +sin binds us. + +LADY CHILTERN. How dare you class my husband with yourself? How dare +you threaten him or me? Leave my house. You are unfit to enter it. + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _enters from behind_. _He hears his wife's last +words_, _and sees to whom they are addressed_. _He grows deadly pale_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Your house! A house bought with the price of dishonour. +A house, everything in which has been paid for by fraud. [_Turns round +and sees_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] Ask him what the origin of his fortune +is! Get him to tell you how he sold to a stockbroker a Cabinet secret. +Learn from him to what you owe your position. + +LADY CHILTERN. It is not true! Robert! It is not true! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Pointing at him with outstretched finger_.] Look at +him! Can he deny it? Does he dare to? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Go! Go at once. You have done your worst now. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. My worst? I have not yet finished with you, with either +of you. I give you both till to-morrow at noon. If by then you don't do +what I bid you to do, the whole world shall know the origin of Robert +Chiltern. + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _strikes the bell_. _Enter_ MASON.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Show Mrs. Cheveley out. + +[MRS. CHEVELEY _starts_; _then bows with somewhat exaggerated politeness +to_ LADY CHILTERN, _who makes no sign of response_. _As she passes by_ +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN, _who is standing close to the door_, _she pauses for +a moment and looks him straight in the face_. _She then goes out_, +_followed by the servant_, _who closes the door after him_. _The husband +and wife are left alone_. LADY CHILTERN _stands like some one in a +dreadful dream_. _Then she turns round and looks at her husband_. _She +looks at him with strange eyes_, _as though she were seeing him for the +first time_.] + +LADY CHILTERN. You sold a Cabinet secret for money! You began your life +with fraud! You built up your career on dishonour! Oh, tell me it is +not true! Lie to me! Lie to me! Tell me it is not true! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What this woman said is quite true. But, Gertrude, +listen to me. You don't realise how I was tempted. Let me tell you the +whole thing. [_Goes towards her_.] + +LADY CHILTERN. Don't come near me. Don't touch me. I feel as if you +had soiled me for ever. Oh! what a mask you have been wearing all these +years! A horrible painted mask! You sold yourself for money. Oh! a +common thief were better. You put yourself up to sale to the highest +bidder! You were bought in the market. You lied to the whole world. +And yet you will not lie to me. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rushing towards her_.] Gertrude! Gertrude! + +LADY CHILTERN. [_Thrusting him back with outstretched hands_.] No, +don't speak! Say nothing! Your voice wakes terrible memories--memories +of things that made me love you--memories of words that made me love +you--memories that now are horrible to me. And how I worshipped you! +You were to me something apart from common life, a thing pure, noble, +honest, without stain. The world seemed to me finer because you were in +it, and goodness more real because you lived. And now--oh, when I think +that I made of a man like you my ideal! the ideal of my life! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. There was your mistake. There was your error. The +error all women commit. Why can't you women love us, faults and all? +Why do you place us on monstrous pedestals? We have all feet of clay, +women as well as men; but when we men love women, we love them knowing +their weaknesses, their follies, their imperfections, love them all the +more, it may be, for that reason. It is not the perfect, but the +imperfect, who have need of love. It is when we are wounded by our own +hands, or by the hands of others, that love should come to cure us--else +what use is love at all? All sins, except a sin against itself, Love +should forgive. All lives, save loveless lives, true Love should pardon. +A man's love is like that. It is wider, larger, more human than a +woman's. Women think that they are making ideals of men. What they are +making of us are false idols merely. You made your false idol of me, and +I had not the courage to come down, show you my wounds, tell you my +weaknesses. I was afraid that I might lose your love, as I have lost it +now. And so, last night you ruined my life for me--yes, ruined it! What +this woman asked of me was nothing compared to what she offered to me. +She offered security, peace, stability. The sin of my youth, that I had +thought was buried, rose up in front of me, hideous, horrible, with its +hands at my throat. I could have killed it for ever, sent it back into +its tomb, destroyed its record, burned the one witness against me. You +prevented me. No one but you, you know it. And now what is there before +me but public disgrace, ruin, terrible shame, the mockery of the world, a +lonely dishonoured life, a lonely dishonoured death, it may be, some day? +Let women make no more ideals of men! let them not put them on alters and +bow before them, or they may ruin other lives as completely as you--you +whom I have so wildly loved--have ruined mine! + +[_He passes from the room_. LADY CHILTERN _rushes towards him_, _but the +door is closed when she reaches it_. _Pale with anguish_, _bewildered_, +_helpless_, _she sways like a plant in the water_. _Her hands_, +_outstretched_, _seem to tremble in the air like blossoms in the mind_. +_Then she flings herself down beside a sofa and buries her face_. _Her +sobs are like the sobs of a child_.] + + ACT DROP + + + + +THIRD ACT + + +SCENE + + +_The Library in Lord Goring's house_. _An Adam room_. _On the right is +the door leading into the hall_. _On the left_, _the door of the +smoking-room_. _A pair of folding doors at the back open into the +drawing-room_. _The fire is lit_. _Phipps_, _the butler_, _is arranging +some newspapers on the writing-table_. _The distinction of Phipps is his +impassivity_. _He has been termed by enthusiasts the Ideal Butler_. _The +Sphinx is not so incommunicable_. _He is a mask with a manner_. _Of his +intellectual or emotional life_, _history knows nothing_. _He represents +the dominance of form_. + +[_Enter_ LORD GORING _in evening dress with a buttonhole_. _He is +wearing a silk hat and Inverness cape_. _White-gloved_, _he carries a +Louis Seize cane_. _His are all the delicate fopperies of Fashion_. +_One sees that he stands in immediate relation to modern life_, _makes it +indeed_, _and so masters it_. _He is the first well-dressed philosopher +in the history of thought_.] + +LORD GORING. Got my second buttonhole for me, Phipps? + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. [_Takes his hat_, _cane_, _and cape_, _and +presents new buttonhole on salver_.] + +LORD GORING. Rather distinguished thing, Phipps. I am the only person +of the smallest importance in London at present who wears a buttonhole. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. I have observed that, + +LORD GORING. [_Taking out old buttonhole_.] You see, Phipps, Fashion is +what one wears oneself. What is unfashionable is what other people wear. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. Just as vulgarity is simply the conduct of other people. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. [_Putting in a new buttonhole_.] And falsehoods the truths +of other people. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. Other people are quite dreadful. The only possible society +is oneself. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance, +Phipps. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. [_Looking at himself in the glass_.] Don't think I quite +like this buttonhole, Phipps. Makes me look a little too old. Makes me +almost in the prime of life, eh, Phipps? + +PHIPPS. I don't observe any alteration in your lordship's appearance. + +LORD GORING. You don't, Phipps? + +PHIPPS. No, my lord. + +LORD GORING. I am not quite sure. For the future a more trivial +buttonhole, Phipps, on Thursday evenings. + +PHIPPS. I will speak to the florist, my lord. She has had a loss in her +family lately, which perhaps accounts for the lack of triviality your +lordship complains of in the buttonhole. + +LORD GORING. Extraordinary thing about the lower classes in +England--they are always losing their relations. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord! They are extremely fortunate in that respect. + +LORD GORING. [_Turns round and looks at him_. PHIPPS _remains +impassive_.] Hum! Any letters, Phipps? + +PHIPPS. Three, my lord. [_Hands letters on a salver_.] + +LORD GORING. [_Takes letters_.] Want my cab round in twenty minutes. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. [_Goes towards door_.] + +LORD GORING. [_Holds up letter in pink envelope_.] Ahem! Phipps, when +did this letter arrive? + +PHIPPS. It was brought by hand just after your lordship went to the +club. + +LORD GORING. That will do. [_Exit_ PHIPPS.] Lady Chiltern's +handwriting on Lady Chiltern's pink notepaper. That is rather curious. +I thought Robert was to write. Wonder what Lady Chiltern has got to say +to me? [_Sits at bureau and opens letter_, _and reads it_.] 'I want +you. I trust you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.' [_Puts down the +letter with a puzzled look_. _Then takes it up_, _and reads it again +slowly_.] 'I want you. I trust you. I am coming to you.' So she has +found out everything! Poor woman! Poor woman! [ _Pulls out watch and +looks at it_.] But what an hour to call! Ten o'clock! I shall have to +give up going to the Berkshires. However, it is always nice to be +expected, and not to arrive. I am not expected at the Bachelors', so I +shall certainly go there. Well, I will make her stand by her husband. +That is the only thing for her to do. That is the only thing for any +woman to do. It is the growth of the moral sense in women that makes +marriage such a hopeless, one-sided institution. Ten o'clock. She +should be here soon. I must tell Phipps I am not in to any one else. +[_Goes towards bell_] + +[_Enter_ PHIPPS.] + +PHIPPS. Lord Caversham. + +LORD GORING. Oh, why will parents always appear at the wrong time? Some +extraordinary mistake in nature, I suppose. [_Enter_ LORD CAVERSHAM.] +Delighted to see you, my dear father. [_Goes to meet him_.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Take my cloak off. + +LORD GORING. Is it worth while, father? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Of course it is worth while, sir. Which is the most +comfortable chair? + +LORD GORING. This one, father. It is the chair I use myself, when I +have visitors. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Thank ye. No draught, I hope, in this room? + +LORD GORING. No, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Sitting down_.] Glad to hear it. Can't stand +draughts. No draughts at home. + +LORD GORING. Good many breezes, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Eh? Eh? Don't understand what you mean. Want to have +a serious conversation with you, sir. + +LORD GORING. My dear father! At this hour? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, it is only ten o'clock. What is your +objection to the hour? I think the hour is an admirable hour! + +LORD GORING. Well, the fact is, father, this is not my day for talking +seriously. I am very sorry, but it is not my day. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. What do you mean, sir? + +LORD GORING. During the Season, father, I only talk seriously on the +first Tuesday in every month, from four to seven. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, make it Tuesday, sir, make it Tuesday. + +LORD GORING. But it is after seven, father, and my doctor says I must +not have any serious conversation after seven. It makes me talk in my +sleep. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Talk in your sleep, sir? What does that matter? You +are not married. + +LORD GORING. No, father, I am not married. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Hum! That is what I have come to talk to you about, +sir. You have got to get married, and at once. Why, when I was your +age, sir, I had been an inconsolable widower for three months, and was +already paying my addresses to your admirable mother. Damme, sir, it is +your duty to get married. You can't be always living for pleasure. +Every man of position is married nowadays. Bachelors are not fashionable +any more. They are a damaged lot. Too much is known about them. You +must get a wife, sir. Look where your friend Robert Chiltern has got to +by probity, hard work, and a sensible marriage with a good woman. Why +don't you imitate him, sir? Why don't you take him for your model? + +LORD GORING. I think I shall, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. I wish you would, sir. Then I should be happy. At +present I make your mother's life miserable on your account. You are +heartless, sir, quite heartless. + +LORD GORING. I hope not, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. And it is high time for you to get married. You are +thirty-four years of age, sir. + +LORD GORING. Yes, father, but I only admit to thirty-two--thirty-one and +a half when I have a really good buttonhole. This buttonhole is not . . . +trivial enough. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. I tell you you are thirty-four, sir. And there is a +draught in your room, besides, which makes your conduct worse. Why did +you tell me there was no draught, sir? I feel a draught, sir, I feel it +distinctly. + +LORD GORING. So do I, father. It is a dreadful draught. I will come +and see you to-morrow, father. We can talk over anything you like. Let +me help you on with your cloak, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. No, sir; I have called this evening for a definite +purpose, and I am going to see it through at all costs to my health or +yours. Put down my cloak, sir. + +LORD GORING. Certainly, father. But let us go into another room. +[_Rings bell_.] There is a dreadful draught here. [_Enter_ PHIPPS.] +Phipps, is there a good fire in the smoking-room? + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. Come in there, father. Your sneezes are quite +heartrending. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, I suppose I have a right to sneeze when I +choose? + +LORD GORING. [_Apologetically_.] Quite so, father. I was merely +expressing sympathy. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Oh, damn sympathy. There is a great deal too much of +that sort of thing going on nowadays. + +LORD GORING. I quite agree with you, father. If there was less sympathy +in the world there would be less trouble in the world. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Going towards the smoking-room_.] That is a paradox, +sir. I hate paradoxes. + +LORD GORING. So do I, father. Everybody one meets is a paradox +nowadays. It is a great bore. It makes society so obvious. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Turning round_, _and looking at his son beneath his +bushy eyebrows_.] Do you always really understand what you say, sir? + +LORD GORING. [_After some hesitation_.] Yes, father, if I listen +attentively. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Indignantly_.] If you listen attentively! . . . +Conceited young puppy! + +[_Goes off grumbling into the smoking-room_. PHIPPS _enters_.] + +LORD GORING. Phipps, there is a lady coming to see me this evening on +particular business. Show her into the drawing-room when she arrives. +You understand? + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. It is a matter of the gravest importance, Phipps. + +PHIPPS. I understand, my lord. + +LORD GORING. No one else is to be admitted, under any circumstances. + +PHIPPS. I understand, my lord. [_Bell rings_.] + +LORD GORING. Ah! that is probably the lady. I shall see her myself. + +[_Just as he is going towards the door_ LORD CAVERSHAM _enters from the +smoking-room_.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir? am I to wait attendance on you? + +LORD GORING. [_Considerably perplexed_.] In a moment, father. Do +excuse me. [LORD CAVERSHAM _goes back_.] Well, remember my +instructions, Phipps--into that room. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +[LORD GORING _goes into the smoking-room_. HAROLD, _the footman shows_ +MRS. CHEVELEY _in_. _Lamia-like_, _she is in green and silver_. _She +has a cloak of black satin_, _lined with dead rose-leaf silk_.] + +HAROLD. What name, madam? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_To_ PHIPPS, _who advances towards her_.] Is Lord +Goring not here? I was told he was at home? + +PHIPPS. His lordship is engaged at present with Lord Caversham, madam. + +[_Turns a cold_, _glassy eye on_ HAROLD, _who at once retires_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_To herself_.] How very filial! + +PHIPPS. His lordship told me to ask you, madam, to be kind enough to +wait in the drawing-room for him. His lordship will come to you there. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a look of surprise_.] Lord Goring expects me? + +PHIPPS. Yes, madam. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Are you quite sure? + +PHIPPS. His lordship told me that if a lady called I was to ask her to +wait in the drawing-room. [_Goes to the door of the drawing-room and +opens it_.] His lordship's directions on the subject were very precise. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_To herself_] How thoughtful of him! To expect the +unexpected shows a thoroughly modern intellect. [_Goes towards the +drawing-room and looks in_.] Ugh! How dreary a bachelor's drawing-room +always looks. I shall have to alter all this. [PHIPPS _brings the lamp +from the writing-table_.] No, I don't care for that lamp. It is far too +glaring. Light some candles. + +PHIPPS. [_Replaces lamp_.] Certainly, madam. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I hope the candles have very becoming shades. + +PHIPPS. We have had no complaints about them, madam, as yet. + +[_Passes into the drawing-room and begins to light the candles_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_To herself_.] I wonder what woman he is waiting for +to-night. It will be delightful to catch him. Men always look so silly +when they are caught. And they are always being caught. [_Looks about +room and approaches the writing-table_.] What a very interesting room! +What a very interesting picture! Wonder what his correspondence is like. +[_Takes up letters_.] Oh, what a very uninteresting correspondence! +Bills and cards, debts and dowagers! Who on earth writes to him on pink +paper? How silly to write on pink paper! It looks like the beginning of +a middle-class romance. Romance should never begin with sentiment. It +should begin with science and end with a settlement. [_Puts letter +down_, _then takes it up again_.] I know that handwriting. That is +Gertrude Chiltern's. I remember it perfectly. The ten commandments in +every stroke of the pen, and the moral law all over the page. Wonder +what Gertrude is writing to him about? Something horrid about me, I +suppose. How I detest that woman! [_Reads it_.] 'I trust you. I want +you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.' 'I trust you. I want you. I am +coming to you.' + +[_A look of triumph comes over her face_. _She is just about to steal +the letter_, _when_ PHIPPS _comes in_.] + +PHIPPS. The candles in the drawing-room are lit, madam, as you directed. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. [_Rises hastily and slips the letter under a +large silver-cased blotting-book that is lying on the table_.] + +PHIPPS. I trust the shades will be to your liking, madam. They are the +most becoming we have. They are the same as his lordship uses himself +when he is dressing for dinner. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a smile_.] Then I am sure they will be perfectly +right. + +PHIPPS. [_Gravely_.] Thank you, madam. + +[MRS. CHEVELEY _goes into the drawing-room_. PHIPPS _closes the door and +retires_. _The door is then slowly opened_, _and_ MRS. CHEVELEY _comes +out and creeps stealthily towards the writing-table_. _Suddenly voices +are heard from the smoking-room_. MRS. CHEVELEY _grows pale_, _and +stops_. _The voices grow louder_, _and she goes back into the +drawing-room_, _biting her lip_.] + +[_Enter_ LORD GORING _and_ LORD CAVERSHAM.] + +LORD GORING. [_Expostulating_.] My dear father, if I am to get married, +surely you will allow me to choose the time, place, and person? +Particularly the person. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Testily_.] That is a matter for me, sir. You would +probably make a very poor choice. It is I who should be consulted, not +you. There is property at stake. It is not a matter for affection. +Affection comes later on in married life. + +LORD GORING. Yes. In married life affection comes when people +thoroughly dislike each other, father, doesn't it? [_Puts on_ LORD +CAVERSHAM'S _cloak for him_.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Certainly, sir. I mean certainly not, air. You are +talking very foolishly to-night. What I say is that marriage is a matter +for common sense. + +LORD GORING. But women who have common sense are so curiously plain, +father, aren't they? Of course I only speak from hearsay. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. No woman, plain or pretty, has any common sense at all, +sir. Common sense is the privilege of our sex. + +LORD GORING. Quite so. And we men are so self-sacrificing that we never +use it, do we, father? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. I use it, sir. I use nothing else. + +LORD GORING. So my mother tells me. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. It is the secret of your mother's happiness. You are +very heartless, sir, very heartless. + +LORD GORING. I hope not, father. + +[_Goes out for a moment_. _Then returns_, _looking rather put out_, +_with_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My dear Arthur, what a piece of good luck meeting +you on the doorstep! Your servant had just told me you were not at home. +How extraordinary! + +LORD GORING. The fact is, I am horribly busy to-night, Robert, and I +gave orders I was not at home to any one. Even my father had a +comparatively cold reception. He complained of a draught the whole time. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Ah! you must be at home to me, Arthur. You are my +best friend. Perhaps by to-morrow you will be my only friend. My wife +has discovered everything. + +LORD GORING. Ah! I guessed as much! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Looking at him_.] Really! How? + +LORD GORING. [_After some hesitation_.] Oh, merely by something in the +expression of your face as you came in. Who told her? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Mrs. Cheveley herself. And the woman I love knows +that I began my career with an act of low dishonesty, that I built up my +life upon sands of shame--that I sold, like a common huckster, the secret +that had been intrusted to me as a man of honour. I thank heaven poor +Lord Radley died without knowing that I betrayed him. I would to God I +had died before I had been so horribly tempted, or had fallen so low. +[_Burying his face in his hands_.] + +LORD GORING. [_After a pause_.] You have heard nothing from Vienna yet, +in answer to your wire? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Looking up_.] Yes; I got a telegram from the +first secretary at eight o'clock to-night. + +LORD GORING. Well? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Nothing is absolutely known against her. On the +contrary, she occupies a rather high position in society. It is a sort +of open secret that Baron Arnheim left her the greater portion of his +immense fortune. Beyond that I can learn nothing. + +LORD GORING. She doesn't turn out to be a spy, then? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh! spies are of no use nowadays. Their profession +is over. The newspapers do their work instead. + +LORD GORING. And thunderingly well they do it. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur, I am parched with thirst. May I ring for +something? Some hock and seltzer? + +LORD GORING. Certainly. Let me. [_Rings the bell_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thanks! I don't know what to do, Arthur, I don't +know what to do, and you are my only friend. But what a friend you +are--the one friend I can trust. I can trust you absolutely, can't I? + +[_Enter_ PHIPPS.] + +LORD GORING. My dear Robert, of course. Oh! [_To_ PHIPPS.] Bring some +hock and seltzer. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. And Phipps! + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. Will you excuse me for a moment, Robert? I want to give +some directions to my servant. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Certainly. + +LORD GORING. When that lady calls, tell her that I am not expected home +this evening. Tell her that I have been suddenly called out of town. +You understand? + +PHIPPS. The lady is in that room, my lord. You told me to show her into +that room, my lord. + +LORD GORING. You did perfectly right. [_Exit_ PHIPPS.] What a mess I +am in. No; I think I shall get through it. I'll give her a lecture +through the door. Awkward thing to manage, though. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur, tell me what I should do. My life seems to +have crumbled about me. I am a ship without a rudder in a night without +a star. + +LORD GORING. Robert, you love your wife, don't you? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I love her more than anything in the world. I used +to think ambition the great thing. It is not. Love is the great thing +in the world. There is nothing but love, and I love her. But I am +defamed in her eyes. I am ignoble in her eyes. There is a wide gulf +between us now. She has found me out, Arthur, she has found me out. + +LORD GORING. Has she never in her life done some folly--some +indiscretion--that she should not forgive your sin? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My wife! Never! She does not know what weakness +or temptation is. I am of clay like other men. She stands apart as good +women do--pitiless in her perfection--cold and stern and without mercy. +But I love her, Arthur. We are childless, and I have no one else to +love, no one else to love me. Perhaps if God had sent us children she +might have been kinder to me. But God has given us a lonely house. And +she has cut my heart in two. Don't let us talk of it. I was brutal to +her this evening. But I suppose when sinners talk to saints they are +brutal always. I said to her things that were hideously true, on my +side, from my stand-point, from the standpoint of men. But don't let us +talk of that. + +LORD GORING. Your wife will forgive you. Perhaps at this moment she is +forgiving you. She loves you, Robert. Why should she not forgive? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. God grant it! God grant it! [_Buries his face in +his hands_.] But there is something more I have to tell you, Arthur. + +[_Enter_ PHIPPS _with drinks_.] + +PHIPPS. [_Hands hock and seltzer to_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] Hock and +seltzer, sir. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thank you. + +LORD GORING. Is your carriage here, Robert? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. No; I walked from the club. + +LORD GORING. Sir Robert will take my cab, Phipps. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. [_Exit_.] + +LORD GORING. Robert, you don't mind my sending you away? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur, you must let me stay for five minutes. I +have made up my mind what I am going to do to-night in the House. The +debate on the Argentine Canal is to begin at eleven. [_A chair falls in +the drawing-room_.] What is that? + +LORD GORING. Nothing. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I heard a chair fall in the next room. Some one +has been listening. + +LORD GORING. No, no; there is no one there. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. There is some one. There are lights in the room, +and the door is ajar. Some one has been listening to every secret of my +life. Arthur, what does this mean? + +LORD GORING. Robert, you are excited, unnerved. I tell you there is no +one in that room. Sit down, Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Do you give me your word that there is no one +there? + +LORD GORING. Yes. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Your word of honour? [_Sits down_.] + +LORD GORING. Yes. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rises_.] Arthur, let me see for myself. + +LORD GORING. No, no. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. If there is no one there why should I not look in +that room? Arthur, you must let me go into that room and satisfy myself. +Let me know that no eavesdropper has heard my life's secret. Arthur, you +don't realise what I am going through. + +LORD GORING. Robert, this must stop. I have told you that there is no +one in that room--that is enough. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rushes to the door of the room_.] It is not +enough. I insist on going into this room. You have told me there is no +one there, so what reason can you have for refusing me? + +LORD GORING. For God's sake, don't! There is some one there. Some one +whom you must not see. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Ah, I thought so! + +LORD GORING. I forbid you to enter that room. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Stand back. My life is at stake. And I don't care +who is there. I will know who it is to whom I have told my secret and my +shame. [_Enters room_.] + +LORD GORING. Great heavens! his own wife! + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _comes back_, _with a look of scorn and anger on his +face_.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What explanation have you to give me for the +presence of that woman here? + +LORD GORING. Robert, I swear to you on my honour that that lady is +stainless and guiltless of all offence towards you. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. She is a vile, an infamous thing! + +LORD GORING. Don't say that, Robert! It was for your sake she came +here. It was to try and save you she came here. She loves you and no +one else. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You are mad. What have I to do with her intrigues +with you? Let her remain your mistress! You are well suited to each +other. She, corrupt and shameful--you, false as a friend, treacherous as +an enemy even-- + +LORD GORING. It is not true, Robert. Before heaven, it is not true. In +her presence and in yours I will explain all. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Let me pass, sir. You have lied enough upon your +word of honour. + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _goes out_. LORD GORING _rushes to the door of the +drawing-room_, _when_ MRS. CHEVELEY _comes out_, _looking radiant and +much amused_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a mock curtsey_] Good evening, Lord Goring! + +LORD GORING. Mrs. Cheveley! Great heavens! . . . May I ask what you +were doing in my drawing-room? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Merely listening. I have a perfect passion for listening +through keyholes. One always hears such wonderful things through them. + +LORD GORING. Doesn't that sound rather like tempting Providence? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh! surely Providence can resist temptation by this time. +[_Makes a sign to him to take her cloak off_, _which he does_.] + +LORD GORING. I am glad you have called. I am going to give you some +good advice. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh! pray don't. One should never give a woman anything +that she can't wear in the evening. + +LORD GORING. I see you are quite as wilful as you used to be. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Far more! I have greatly improved. I have had more +experience. + +LORD GORING. Too much experience is a dangerous thing. Pray have a +cigarette. Half the pretty women in London smoke cigarettes. Personally +I prefer the other half. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. I never smoke. My dressmaker wouldn't like it, +and a woman's first duty in life is to her dressmaker, isn't it? What +the second duty is, no one has as yet discovered. + +LORD GORING. You have come here to sell me Robert Chiltern's letter, +haven't you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. To offer it to you on conditions. How did you guess +that? + +LORD GORING. Because you haven't mentioned the subject. Have you got it +with you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Sitting down_.] Oh, no! A well-made dress has no +pockets. + +LORD GORING. What is your price for it? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. How absurdly English you are! The English think that a +cheque-book can solve every problem in life. Why, my dear Arthur, I have +very much more money than you have, and quite as much as Robert Chiltern +has got hold of. Money is not what I want. + +LORD GORING. What do you want then, Mrs. Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Why don't you call me Laura? + +LORD GORING. I don't like the name. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You used to adore it. + +LORD GORING. Yes: that's why. [MRS. CHEVELEY _motions to him to sit +down beside her_. _He smiles_, _and does so_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Arthur, you loved me once. + +LORD GORING. Yes. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. And you asked me to be your wife. + +LORD GORING. That was the natural result of my loving you. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. And you threw me over because you saw, or said you saw, +poor old Lord Mortlake trying to have a violent flirtation with me in the +conservatory at Tenby. + +LORD GORING. I am under the impression that my lawyer settled that +matter with you on certain terms . . . dictated by yourself. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. At that time I was poor; you were rich. + +LORD GORING. Quite so. That is why you pretended to love me. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Shrugging her shoulders_.] Poor old Lord Mortlake, who +had only two topics of conversation, his gout and his wife! I never +could quite make out which of the two he was talking about. He used the +most horrible language about them both. Well, you were silly, Arthur. +Why, Lord Mortlake was never anything more to me than an amusement. One +of those utterly tedious amusements one only finds at an English country +house on an English country Sunday. I don't think any one at all morally +responsible for what he or she does at an English country house. + +LORD GORING. Yes. I know lots of people think that. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I loved you, Arthur. + +LORD GORING. My dear Mrs. Cheveley, you have always been far too clever +to know anything about love. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I did love you. And you loved me. You know you loved +me; and love is a very wonderful thing. I suppose that when a man has +once loved a woman, he will do anything for her, except continue to love +her? [_Puts her hand on his_.] + +LORD GORING. [_Taking his hand away quietly_.] Yes: except that. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a pause_.] I am tired of living abroad. I want +to come back to London. I want to have a charming house here. I want to +have a salon. If one could only teach the English how to talk, and the +Irish how to listen, society here would be quite civilised. Besides, I +have arrived at the romantic stage. When I saw you last night at the +Chilterns', I knew you were the only person I had ever cared for, if I +ever have cared for anybody, Arthur. And so, on the morning of the day +you marry me, I will give you Robert Chiltern's letter. That is my +offer. I will give it to you now, if you promise to marry me. + +LORD GORING. Now? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Smiling_.] To-morrow. + +LORD GORING. Are you really serious? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes, quite serious. + +LORD GORING. I should make you a very bad husband. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I don't mind bad husbands. I have had two. They amused +me immensely. + +LORD GORING. You mean that you amused yourself immensely, don't you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. What do you know about my married life? + +LORD GORING. Nothing: but I can read it like a book. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. What book? + +LORD GORING. [_Rising_.] The Book of Numbers. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Do you think it is quite charming of you to be so rude to +a woman in your own house? + +LORD GORING. In the case of very fascinating women, sex is a challenge, +not a defence. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I suppose that is meant for a compliment. My dear +Arthur, women are never disarmed by compliments. Men always are. That +is the difference between the two sexes. + +LORD GORING. Women are never disarmed by anything, as far as I know +them. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a pause_.] Then you are going to allow your +greatest friend, Robert Chiltern, to be ruined, rather than marry some +one who really has considerable attractions left. I thought you would +have risen to some great height of self-sacrifice, Arthur. I think you +should. And the rest of your life you could spend in contemplating your +own perfections. + +LORD GORING. Oh! I do that as it is. And self-sacrifice is a thing that +should be put down by law. It is so demoralising to the people for whom +one sacrifices oneself. They always go to the bad. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. As if anything could demoralise Robert Chiltern! You +seem to forget that I know his real character. + +LORD GORING. What you know about him is not his real character. It was +an act of folly done in his youth, dishonourable, I admit, shameful, I +admit, unworthy of him, I admit, and therefore . . . not his true +character. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. How you men stand up for each other! + +LORD GORING. How you women war against each other! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Bitterly_.] I only war against one woman, against +Gertrude Chiltern. I hate her. I hate her now more than ever. + +LORD GORING. Because you have brought a real tragedy into her life, I +suppose. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a sneer_.] Oh, there is only one real tragedy in +a woman's life. The fact that her past is always her lover, and her +future invariably her husband. + +LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern knows nothing of the kind of life to which +you are alluding. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. A woman whose size in gloves is seven and three-quarters +never knows much about anything. You know Gertrude has always worn seven +and three-quarters? That is one of the reasons why there was never any +moral sympathy between us. . . . Well, Arthur, I suppose this romantic +interview may be regarded as at an end. You admit it was romantic, don't +you? For the privilege of being your wife I was ready to surrender a +great prize, the climax of my diplomatic career. You decline. Very +well. If Sir Robert doesn't uphold my Argentine scheme, I expose him. +Voila tout. + +LORD GORING. You mustn't do that. It would be vile, horrible, infamous. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Shrugging her shoulders_.] Oh! don't use big words. +They mean so little. It is a commercial transaction. That is all. +There is no good mixing up sentimentality in it. I offered to sell +Robert Chiltern a certain thing. If he won't pay me my price, he will +have to pay the world a greater price. There is no more to be said. I +must go. Good-bye. Won't you shake hands? + +LORD GORING. With you? No. Your transaction with Robert Chiltern may +pass as a loathsome commercial transaction of a loathsome commercial age; +but you seem to have forgotten that you came here to-night to talk of +love, you whose lips desecrated the word love, you to whom the thing is a +book closely sealed, went this afternoon to the house of one of the most +noble and gentle women in the world to degrade her husband in her eyes, +to try and kill her love for him, to put poison in her heart, and +bitterness in her life, to break her idol, and, it may be, spoil her +soul. That I cannot forgive you. That was horrible. For that there can +be no forgiveness. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Arthur, you are unjust to me. Believe me, you are quite +unjust to me. I didn't go to taunt Gertrude at all. I had no idea of +doing anything of the kind when I entered. I called with Lady Markby +simply to ask whether an ornament, a jewel, that I lost somewhere last +night, had been found at the Chilterns'. If you don't believe me, you +can ask Lady Markby. She will tell you it is true. The scene that +occurred happened after Lady Markby had left, and was really forced on me +by Gertrude's rudeness and sneers. I called, oh!--a little out of malice +if you like--but really to ask if a diamond brooch of mine had been +found. That was the origin of the whole thing. + +LORD GORING. A diamond snake-brooch with a ruby? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. How do you know? + +LORD GORING. Because it is found. In point of fact, I found it myself, +and stupidly forgot to tell the butler anything about it as I was +leaving. [_Goes over to the writing-table and pulls out the drawers_.] +It is in this drawer. No, that one. This is the brooch, isn't it? +[_Holds up the brooch_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. I am so glad to get it back. It was . . a present. + +LORD GORING. Won't you wear it? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Certainly, if you pin it in. [LORD GORING _suddenly +clasps it on her arm_.] Why do you put it on as a bracelet? I never +knew it could he worn as a bracelet. + +LORD GORING. Really? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Holding out her handsome arm_.] No; but it looks very +well on me as a bracelet, doesn't it? + +LORD GORING. Yes; much better than when I saw it last. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. When did you see it last? + +LORD GORING. [_Calmly_.] Oh, ten years ago, on Lady Berkshire, from +whom you stole it. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Starting_.] What do you mean? + +LORD GORING. I mean that you stole that ornament from my cousin, Mary +Berkshire, to whom I gave it when she was married. Suspicion fell on a +wretched servant, who was sent away in disgrace. I recognised it last +night. I determined to say nothing about it till I had found the thief. +I have found the thief now, and I have heard her own confession. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Tossing her head_.] It is not true. + +LORD GORING. You know it is true. Why, thief is written across your +face at this moment. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I will deny the whole affair from beginning to end. I +will say that I have never seen this wretched thing, that it was never in +my possession. + +[MRS. CHEVELEY _tries to get the bracelet off her arm_, _but fails_. +LORD GORING _looks on amused_. _Her thin fingers tear at the jewel to no +purpose_. _A curse breaks from her_.] + +LORD GORING. The drawback of stealing a thing, Mrs. Cheveley, is that +one never knows how wonderful the thing that one steals is. You can't +get that bracelet off, unless you know where the spring is. And I see +you don't know where the spring is. It is rather difficult to find. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You brute! You coward! [_She tries again to unclasp the +bracelet_, _but fails_.] + +LORD GORING. Oh! don't use big words. They mean so little. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Again tears at the bracelet in a paroxysm of rage_, +_with inarticulate sounds_. _Then stops_, _and looks at_ LORD GORING.] +What are you going to do? + +LORD GORING. I am going to ring for my servant. He is an admirable +servant. Always comes in the moment one rings for him. When he comes I +will tell him to fetch the police. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Trembling_.] The police? What for? + +LORD GORING. To-morrow the Berkshires will prosecute you. That is what +the police are for. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Is now in an agony of physical terror_. _Her face is +distorted_. _Her mouth awry_. _A mask has fallen from her_. _She it_, +_for the moment_, _dreadful to look at_.] Don't do that. I will do +anything you want. Anything in the world you want. + +LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern's letter. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Stop! Stop! Let me have time to think. + +LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern's letter. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I have not got it with me. I will give it to you +to-morrow. + +LORD GORING. You know you are lying. Give it to me at once. [MRS. +CHEVELEY _pulls the letter out_, _and hands it to him_. _She is horribly +pale_.] This is it? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_In a hoarse voice_.] Yes. + +LORD GORING. [_Takes the letter_, _examines it_, _sighs_, _and burns it +with the lamp_.] For so well-dressed a woman, Mrs. Cheveley, you have +moments of admirable common sense. I congratulate you. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Catches sight of_ LADY CHILTERN'S _letter_, _the cover +of which is just showing from under the blotting-book_.] Please get me a +glass of water. + +LORD GORING. Certainly. [_Goes to the corner of the room and pours out +a glass of water_. _While his back is turned_ MRS. CHEVELEY _steals_ +LADY CHILTERN'S _letter_. _When_ LORD GORING _returns the glass she +refuses it with a gesture_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. Will you help me on with my cloak? + +LORD GORING. With pleasure. [_Puts her cloak on_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. I am never going to try to harm Robert Chiltern +again. + +LORD GORING. Fortunately you have not the chance, Mrs. Cheveley. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Well, if even I had the chance, I wouldn't. On the +contrary, I am going to render him a great service. + +LORD GORING. I am charmed to hear it. It is a reformation. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. I can't bear so upright a gentleman, so honourable +an English gentleman, being so shamefully deceived, and so-- + +LORD GORING. Well? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I find that somehow Gertrude Chiltern's dying speech and +confession has strayed into my pocket. + +LORD GORING. What do you mean? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a bitter note of triumph in her voice_.] I mean +that I am going to send Robert Chiltern the love-letter his wife wrote to +you to-night. + +LORD GORING. Love-letter? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Laughing_.] 'I want you. I trust you. I am coming to +you. Gertrude.' + +[LORD GORING _rushes to the bureau and takes up the envelope_, _finds is +empty_, _and turns round_.] + +LORD GORING. You wretched woman, must you always be thieving? Give me +back that letter. I'll take it from you by force. You shall not leave +my room till I have got it. + +[_He rushes towards her_, _but_ MRS. CHEVELEY _at once puts her hand on +the electric bell that is on the table_. _The bell sounds with shrill +reverberations_, _and_ PHIPPS _enters_.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a pause_.] Lord Goring merely rang that you +should show me out. Good-night, Lord Goring! + +[_Goes out followed by_ PHIPPS. _Her face is illumined with evil +triumph_. _There is joy in her eyes_. _Youth seems to have come back to +her_. _Her last glance is like a swift arrow_. LORD GORING _bites his +lip_, _and lights his a cigarette_.] + + ACT DROPS + + + + +FOURTH ACT + + +SCENE + + +_Same as Act II_. + +[LORD GORING _is standing by the fireplace with his hands in his +pockets_. _He is looking rather bored_.] + +LORD GORING. [_Pulls out his watch_, _inspects it_, _and rings the +bell_.] It is a great nuisance. I can't find any one in this house to +talk to. And I am full of interesting information. I feel like the +latest edition of something or other. + +[_Enter servant_.] + +JAMES. Sir Robert is still at the Foreign Office, my lord. + +LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern not down yet? + +JAMES. Her ladyship has not yet left her room. Miss Chiltern has just +come in from riding. + +LORD GORING. [_To himself_.] Ah! that is something. + +JAMES. Lord Caversham has been waiting some time in the library for Sir +Robert. I told him your lordship was here. + +LORD GORING. Thank you! Would you kindly tell him I've gone? + +JAMES. [_Bowing_.] I shall do so, my lord. + +[_Exit servant_.] + +LORD GORING. Really, I don't want to meet my father three days running. +It is a great deal too much excitement for any son. I hope to goodness +he won't come up. Fathers should be neither seen nor heard. That is the +only proper basis for family life. Mothers are different. Mothers are +darlings. [_Throws himself down into a chair_, _picks up a paper and +begins to read it_.] + +[_Enter_ LORD CAVERSHAM.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, what are you doing here? Wasting your time +as usual, I suppose? + +LORD GORING. [_Throws down paper and rises_.] My dear father, when one +pays a visit it is for the purpose of wasting other people's time, not +one's own. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Have you been thinking over what I spoke to you about +last night? + +LORD GORING. I have been thinking about nothing else. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Engaged to be married yet? + +LORD GORING. [_Genially_.] Not yet: but I hope to be before lunch-time. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Caustically_.] You can have till dinner-time if it +would be of any convenience to you. + +LORD GORING. Thanks awfully, but I think I'd sooner be engaged before +lunch. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Humph! Never know when you are serious or not. + +LORD GORING. Neither do I, father. + +[_A pause_.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. I suppose you have read _The Times_ this morning? + +LORD GORING. [_Airily_.] The Times? Certainly not. I only read _The +Morning Post_. All that one should know about modern life is where the +Duchesses are; anything else is quite demoralising. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Do you mean to say you have not read _The Times_ leading +article on Robert Chiltern's career? + +LORD GORING. Good heavens! No. What does it say? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. What should it say, sir? Everything complimentary, of +course. Chiltern's speech last night on this Argentine Canal scheme was +one of the finest pieces of oratory ever delivered in the House since +Canning. + +LORD GORING. Ah! Never heard of Canning. Never wanted to. And did +. . . did Chiltern uphold the scheme? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Uphold it, sir? How little you know him! Why, he +denounced it roundly, and the whole system of modern political finance. +This speech is the turning-point in his career, as _The Times_ points +out. You should read this article, sir. [_Opens_ The Times.] 'Sir +Robert Chiltern . . . most rising of our young statesmen . . . Brilliant +orator . . . Unblemished career . . . Well-known integrity of character +. . . Represents what is best in English public life . . . Noble contrast +to the lax morality so common among foreign politicians.' They will +never say that of you, sir. + +LORD GORING. I sincerely hope not, father. However, I am delighted at +what you tell me about Robert, thoroughly delighted. It shows he has got +pluck. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. He has got more than pluck, sir, he has got genius. + +LORD GORING. Ah! I prefer pluck. It is not so common, nowadays, as +genius is. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. I wish you would go into Parliament. + +LORD GORING. My dear father, only people who look dull ever get into the +House of Commons, and only people who are dull ever succeed there. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Why don't you try to do something useful in life? + +LORD GORING. I am far too young. + +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 Minster'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. Every one 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 any one 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. Montford, 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 recognise 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 Montford 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 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 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 taking such +. . . Will you kindly do that, Lady Chiltern? + +LADY CHILTERN. I think my husband in 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 out 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 here 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 out 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 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 +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. Wish I could say the same for you, sir. [_To_ LORD GORING.] +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 in 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 + + * * * * * + + THE NORTHUMBERLAND PRESS, NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN IDEAL HUSBAND*** + + +******* This file should be named 885.txt or 885.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/8/8/885 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +An Ideal Husband, by Oscar Wilde +Scanned and proofed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + + +An Ideal Husband + + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + + +THE EARL OF CAVERSHAM, K.G. +VISCOUNT GORING, his Son +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN, Bart., Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs +VICOMTE DE NANJAC, Attache at the French Embassy in London +MR. MONTFORD +MASON, Butler to Sir Robert Chiltern +PHIPPS, Lord Goring's Servant +JAMES } +HAROLD } Footmen +LADY CHILTERN +LADY MARKBY +THE COUNTESS OF BASILDON +MRS. MARCHMONT +MISS MABEL CHILTERN, Sir Robert Chiltern's Sister +MRS. CHEVELEY + + +THE SCENES OF THE PLAY + + +ACT I. The Octagon Room in Sir Robert Chiltern's House in Grosvenor +Square. +ACT II. Morning-room in Sir Robert Chiltern's House. +ACT III. The Library of Lord Goring's House in Curzon Street. +ACT IV. Same as Act II. + +TIME: The Present +PLACE: London. + +The action of the play is completed within twenty-four hours. + + +THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET + + +Sole Lessee: Mr. Herbert Beerbohm Tree +Managers: Mr. Lewis Waller and Mr. H. H. Morell +January 3rd, 1895 + +THE EARL OF CAVERSHAM, Mr. Alfred Bishop. +VISCOUNT GORING, Mr. Charles H. Hawtrey. +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN, Mr. Lewis Waller. +VICOMTE DE NANJAC, Mr. Cosmo Stuart. +MR. MONTFORD, Mr. Harry Stanford. +PHIPPS, Mr. C. H. Brookfield. +MASON, Mr. H. Deane. +JAMES, Mr. Charles Meyrick. +HAROLD, Mr. Goodhart. +LADY CHILTERN, Miss Julia Neilson. +LADY MARKBY, Miss Fanny Brough. +COUNTESS OF BASILDON, Miss Vane Featherston. +MRS. MARCHMONT, Miss Helen Forsyth. +MISS MABEL CHILTERN, Miss Maud Millet. +MRS. CHEVELEY, Miss Florence West. + + + +FIRST ACT + + + +SCENE + +The octagon room at Sir Robert Chiltern's house in Grosvenor Square. + +[The room is brilliantly lighted and full of guests. At the top of +the staircase stands LADY CHILTERN, a woman of grave Greek beauty, +about twenty-seven years of age. She receives the guests as they +come up. Over the well of the staircase hangs a great chandelier +with wax lights, which illumine a large eighteenth-century French +tapestry - representing the Triumph of Love, from a design by Boucher +- that is stretched on the staircase wall. On the right is the +entrance to the music-room. The sound of a string quartette is +faintly heard. The entrance on the left leads to other reception- +rooms. MRS. MARCHMONT and LADY BASILDON, two very pretty women, are +seated together on a Louis Seize sofa. They are types of exquisite +fragility. Their affectation of manner has a delicate charm. +Watteau would have loved to paint them.] + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Going on to the Hartlocks' to-night, Margaret? + +LADY BASILDON. I suppose so. Are you? + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Yes. Horribly tedious parties they give, don't +they? + +LADY BASILDON. Horribly tedious! Never know why I go. Never know +why I go anywhere. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. I come here to be educated + +LADY BASILDON. Ah! I hate being educated! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. So do I. It puts one almost on a level with the +commercial classes, doesn't it? But dear Gertrude Chiltern is always +telling me that I should have some serious purpose in life. So I +come here to try to find one. + +LADY BASILDON. [Looking round through her lorgnette.] I don't see +anybody here to-night whom one could possibly call a serious purpose. +The man who took me in to dinner talked to me about his wife the +whole time. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. How very trivial of him! + +LADY BASILDON. Terribly trivial! What did your man talk about? + +MRS. MARCHMONT. About myself. + +LADY BASILDON. [Languidly.] And were you interested? + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [Shaking her head.] Not in the smallest degree. + +LADY BASILDON. What martyrs we are, dear Margaret! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [Rising.] And how well it becomes us, Olivia! + +[They rise and go towards the music-room. The VICOMTE DE NANJAC, a +young attache known for his neckties and his Anglomania, approaches +with a low bow, and enters into conversation.] + +MASON. [Announcing guests from the top of the staircase.] Mr. and +Lady Jane Barford. Lord Caversham. + +[Enter LORD CAVERSHAM, an old gentleman of seventy, wearing the +riband and star of the Garter. A fine Whig type. Rather like a +portrait by Lawrence.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Good evening, Lady Chiltern! Has my good-for- +nothing young son been here? + +LADY CHILTERN. [Smiling.] I don't think Lord Goring has arrived +yet. + +MABEL CHILTERN. [Coming up to LORD CAVERSHAM.] Why do you call Lord +Goring good-for-nothing? + +[MABEL CHILTERN is a perfect example of the English type of +prettiness, the apple-blossom type. She has all the fragrance and +freedom of a flower. There is ripple after ripple of sunlight in her +hair, and the little mouth, with its parted lips, is expectant, like +the mouth of a child. She has the fascinating tyranny of youth, and +the astonishing courage of innocence. To sane people she is not +reminiscent of any work of art. But she is really like a Tanagra +statuette, and would be rather annoyed if she were told so.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Because he leads such an idle life. + +MABEL CHILTERN. How can you say such a thing? Why, he rides in the +Row at ten o'clock in the morning, goes to the Opera three times a +week, changes his clothes at least five times a day, and dines out +every night of the season. You don't call that leading an idle life, +do you? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [Looking at her with a kindly twinkle in his eyes.] +You are a very charming young lady! + +MABEL CHILTERN. How sweet of you to say that, Lord Caversham! Do +come to us more often. You know we are always at home on Wednesdays, +and you look so well with your star! + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Never go anywhere now. Sick of London Society. +Shouldn't mind being introduced to my own tailor; he always votes on +the right side. But object strongly to being sent down to dinner +with my wife's milliner. Never could stand Lady Caversham's bonnets. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Oh, I love London Society! I think it has immensely +improved. It is entirely composed now of beautiful idiots and +brilliant lunatics. Just what Society should be. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Hum! Which is Goring? Beautiful idiot, or the +other thing? + +MABEL CHILTERN. [Gravely.] I have been obliged for the present to +put Lord Goring into a class quite by himself. But he is developing +charmingly! + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Into what? + +MABEL CHILTERN. [With a little curtsey.] I hope to let you know +very soon, Lord Caversham! + +MASON. [Announcing guests.] Lady Markby. Mrs. Cheveley. + +[Enter LADY MARKBY and MRS. CHEVELEY. LADY MARKBY is a pleasant, +kindly, popular woman, with gray hair e la marquise and good lace. +MRS. CHEVELEY, who accompanies her, is tall and rather slight. Lips +very thin and highly-coloured, a line of scarlet on a pallid face. +Venetian red hair, aquiline nose, and long throat. Rouge accentuates +the natural paleness of her complexion. Gray-green eyes that move +restlessly. She is in heliotrope, with diamonds. She looks rather +like an orchid, and makes great demands on one's curiosity. In all +her movements she is extremely graceful. A work of art, on the +whole, but showing the influence of too many schools.] + +LADY MARKBY. Good evening, dear Gertrude! So kind of you to let me +bring my friend, Mrs. Cheveley. Two such charming women should know +each other! + +LADY CHILTERN. [Advances towards MRS. CHEVELEY with a sweet smile. +Then suddenly stops, and bows rather distantly.] I think Mrs. +Cheveley and I have met before. I did not know she had married a +second time. + +LADY MARKBY. [Genially.] Ah, nowadays people marry as often as they +can, don't they? It is most fashionable. [To DUCHESS OF +MARYBOROUGH.] Dear Duchess, and how is the Duke? Brain still weak, +I suppose? Well, that is only to be expected, is it not? His good +father was just the same. There is nothing like race, is there? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Playing with her fan.] But have we really met +before, Lady Chiltern? I can't remember where. I have been out of +England for so long. + +LADY CHILTERN. We were at school together, Mrs. Cheveley. + +MRS. CHEVELEY [Superciliously.] Indeed? I have forgotten all about +my schooldays. I have a vague impression that they were detestable. + +LADY CHILTERN. [Coldly.] I am not surprised! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [In her sweetest manner.] Do you know, I am quite +looking forward to meeting your clever husband, Lady Chiltern. Since +he has been at the Foreign Office, he has been so much talked of in +Vienna. They actually succeed in spelling his name right in the +newspapers. That in itself is fame, on the continent. + +LADY CHILTERN. I hardly think there will be much in common between +you and my husband, Mrs. Cheveley! [Moves away.] + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. Ah! chere Madame, queue surprise! I have not +seen you since Berlin! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Not since Berlin, Vicomte. Five years ago! + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. And you are younger and more beautiful than ever. +How do you manage it? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. By making it a rule only to talk to perfectly +charming people like yourself. + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. Ah! you flatter me. You butter me, as they say +here. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Do they say that here? How dreadful of them! + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. Yes, they have a wonderful language. It should +be more widely known. + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN enters. A man of forty, but looking somewhat +younger. Clean-shaven, with finely-cut features, dark-haired and +dark-eyed. A personality of mark. Not popular - few personalities +are. But intensely admired by the few, and deeply respected by the +many. The note of his manner is that of perfect distinction, with a +slight touch of pride. One feels that he is conscious of the success +he has made in life. A nervous temperament, with a tired look. The +firmly-chiselled mouth and chin contrast strikingly with the romantic +expression in the deep-set eyes. The variance is suggestive of an +almost complete separation of passion and intellect, as though +thought and emotion were each isolated in its own sphere through some +violence of will-power. There is nervousness in the nostrils, and in +the pale, thin, pointed hands. It would be inaccurate to call him +picturesque. Picturesqueness cannot survive the House of Commons. +But Vandyck would have liked to have painted his head.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Good evening, Lady Markby! I hope you have +brought Sir John with you? + +LADY MARKBY. Oh! I have brought a much more charming person than +Sir John. Sir John's temper since he has taken seriously to politics +has become quite unbearable. Really, now that the House of Commons +is trying to become useful, it does a great deal of harm. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I hope not, Lady Markby. At any rate we do our +best to waste the public time, don't we? But who is this charming +person you have been kind enough to bring to us? + +LADY MARKBY. Her name is Mrs. Cheveley! One of the Dorsetshire +Cheveleys, I suppose. But I really don't know. Families are so +mixed nowadays. Indeed, as a rule, everybody turns out to be +somebody else. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Mrs. Cheveley? I seem to know the name. + +LADY MARKBY. She has just arrived from Vienna. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Ah! yes. I think I know whom you mean. + +LADY MARKBY. Oh! she goes everywhere there, and has such pleasant +scandals about all her friends. I really must go to Vienna next +winter. I hope there is a good chef at the Embassy. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. If there is not, the Ambassador will certainly +have to be recalled. Pray point out Mrs. Cheveley to me. I should +like to see her. + +LADY MARKBY. Let me introduce you. [To MRS. CHEVELEY.] My dear, +Sir Robert Chiltern is dying to know you! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Bowing.] Every one is dying to know the +brilliant Mrs. Cheveley. Our attaches at Vienna write to us about +nothing else. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you, Sir Robert. An acquaintance that begins +with a compliment is sure to develop into a real friendship. It +starts in the right manner. And I find that I know Lady Chiltern +already. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Really? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. She has just reminded me that we were at school +together. I remember it perfectly now. She always got the good +conduct prize. I have a distinct recollection of Lady Chiltern +always getting the good conduct prize! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Smiling.] And what prizes did you get, Mrs. +Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. My prizes came a little later on in life. I don't +think any of them were for good conduct. I forget! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am sure they were for something charming! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I don't know that women are always rewarded for being +charming. I think they are usually punished for it! Certainly, more +women grow old nowadays through the faithfulness of their admirers +than through anything else! At least that is the only way I can +account for the terribly haggard look of most of your pretty women in +London! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What an appalling philosophy that sounds! To +attempt to classify you, Mrs. Cheveley, would be an impertinence. +But may I ask, at heart, are you an optimist or a pessimist? Those +seem to be the only two fashionable religions left to us nowadays. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I'm neither. Optimism begins in a broad grin, +and Pessimism ends with blue spectacles. Besides, they are both of +them merely poses. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You prefer to be natural? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Sometimes. But it is such a very difficult pose to +keep up. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What would those modern psychological +novelists, of whom we hear so much, say to such a theory as that? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Ah! the strength of women comes from the fact that +psychology cannot explain us. Men can be analysed, women . . . +merely adored. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You think science cannot grapple with the +problem of women? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Science can never grapple with the irrational. That +is why it has no future before it, in this world. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And women represent the irrational. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Well-dressed women do. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [With a polite bow.] I fear I could hardly +agree with you there. But do sit down. And now tell me, what makes +you leave your brilliant Vienna for our gloomy London - or perhaps +the question is indiscreet? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Questions are never indiscreet. Answers sometimes +are. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Well, at any rate, may I know if it is politics +or pleasure? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Politics are my only pleasure. You see nowadays it +is not fashionable to flirt till one is forty, or to be romantic till +one is forty-five, so we poor women who are under thirty, or say we +are, have nothing open to us but politics or philanthropy. And +philanthropy seems to me to have become simply the refuge of people +who wish to annoy their fellow-creatures. I prefer politics. I +think they are more . . . becoming! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. A political life is a noble career! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Sometimes. And sometimes it is a clever game, Sir +Robert. And sometimes it is a great nuisance. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Which do you find it? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I? A combination of all three. [Drops her fan.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Picks up fan.] Allow me! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But you have not told me yet what makes you +honour London so suddenly. Our season is almost over. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh! I don't care about the London season! It is too +matrimonial. People are either hunting for husbands, or hiding from +them. I wanted to meet you. It is quite true. You know what a +woman's curiosity is. Almost as great as a man's! I wanted +immensely to meet you, and . . . to ask you to do something for me. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I hope it is not a little thing, Mrs. Cheveley. +I find that little things are so very difficult to do. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [After a moment's reflection.] No, I don't think it +is quite a little thing. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am so glad. Do tell me what it is. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Later on. [Rises.] And now may I walk through your +beautiful house? I hear your pictures are charming. Poor Baron +Arnheim - you remember the Baron? - used to tell me you had some +wonderful Corots. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [With an almost imperceptible start.] Did you +know Baron Arnheim well? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Smiling.] Intimately. Did you? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. At one time. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Wonderful man, wasn't he? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [After a pause.] He was very remarkable, in +many ways. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I often think it such a pity he never wrote his +memoirs. They would have been most interesting. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes: he knew men and cities well, like the old +Greek. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Without the dreadful disadvantage of having a +Penelope waiting at home for him. + +MASON. Lord Goring. + +[Enter LORD GORING. Thirty-four, but always says he is younger. A +well-bred, expressionless face. He is clever, but would not like to +be thought so. A flawless dandy, he would be annoyed if he were +considered romantic. He plays with life, and is on perfectly good +terms with the world. He is fond of being misunderstood. It gives +him a post of vantage.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Good evening, my dear Arthur! Mrs. Cheveley, +allow me to introduce to you Lord Goring, the idlest man in London. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I have met Lord Goring before. + +LORD GORING. [Bowing.] I did not think you would remember me, Mrs. +Cheveley. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. My memory is under admirable control. And are you +still a bachelor? + +LORD GORING. I . . . believe so. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. How very romantic! + +LORD GORING. Oh! I am not at all romantic. I am not old enough. I +leave romance to my seniors. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Lord Goring is the result of Boodle's Club, +Mrs. Cheveley. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. He reflects every credit on the institution. + +LORD GORING. May I ask are you staying in London long? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. That depends partly on the weather, partly on the +cooking, and partly on Sir Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You are not going to plunge us into a European +war, I hope? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. There is no danger, at present! + +[She nods to LORD GORING, with a look of amusement in her eyes, and +goes out with SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. LORD GORING saunters over to +MABEL CHILTERN.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. You are very late! + +LORD GORING. Have you missed me? + +MABEL CHILTERN. Awfully! + +LORD GORING. Then I am sorry I did not stay away longer. I like +being missed. + +MABEL CHILTERN. How very selfish of you! + +LORD GORING. I am very selfish. + +MABEL CHILTERN. You are always telling me of your bad qualities, +Lord Goring. + +LORD GORING. I have only told you half of them as yet, Miss Mabel! + +MABEL CHILTERN. Are the others very bad? + +LORD GORING. Quite dreadful! When I think of them at night I go to +sleep at once. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Well, I delight in your bad qualities. I wouldn't +have you part with one of them. + +LORD GORING. How very nice of you! But then you are always nice. +By the way, I want to ask you a question, Miss Mabel. Who brought +Mrs. Cheveley here? That woman in heliotrope, who has just gone out +of the room with your brother? + +MABEL CHILTERN. Oh, I think Lady Markby brought her. Why do you +ask? + +LORD GORING. I haven't seen her for years, that is all. + +MABEL CHILTERN. What an absurd reason! + +LORD GORING. All reasons are absurd. + +MABEL CHILTERN. What sort of a woman is she? + +LORD GORING. Oh! a genius in the daytime and a beauty at night! + +MABEL CHILTERN. I dislike her already. + +LORD GORING. That shows your admirable good taste. + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. [Approaching.] Ah, the English young lady is the +dragon of good taste, is she not? Quite the dragon of good taste. + +LORD GORING. So the newspapers are always telling us. + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. I read all your English newspapers. I find them +so amusing. + +LORD GORING. Then, my dear Nanjac, you must certainly read between +the lines. + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. I should like to, but my professor objects. [To +MABEL CHILTERN.] May I have the pleasure of escorting you to the +music-room, Mademoiselle? + +MABEL CHILTERN. [Looking very disappointed.] Delighted, Vicomte, +quite delighted! [Turning to LORD GORING.] Aren't you coming to the +music-room? + +LORD GORING. Not if there is any music going on, Miss Mabel. + +MABEL CHILTERN. [Severely.] The music is in German. You would not +understand it. + +[Goes out with the VICOMTE DE NANJAC. LORD CAVERSHAM comes up to his +son.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir! what are you doing here? Wasting your +life as usual! You should be in bed, sir. You keep too late hours! +I heard of you the other night at Lady Rufford's dancing till four +o'clock in the morning! + +LORD GORING. Only a quarter to four, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Can't make out how you stand London Society. The +thing has gone to the dogs, a lot of damned nobodies talking about +nothing. + +LORD GORING. I love talking about nothing, father. It is the only +thing I know anything about. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. You seem to me to be living entirely for pleasure. + +LORD GORING. What else is there to live for, father? Nothing ages +like happiness. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. You are heartless, sir, very heartless! + +LORD GORING. I hope not, father. Good evening, Lady Basildon! + +LADY BASILDON. [Arching two pretty eyebrows.] Are you here? I had +no idea you ever came to political parties! + +LORD GORING. I adore political parties. They are the only place +left to us where people don't talk politics. + +LADY BASILDON. I delight in talking politics. I talk them all day +long. But I can't bear listening to them. I don't know how the +unfortunate men in the House stand these long debates. + +LORD GORING. By never listening. + +LADY BASILDON. Really? + +LORD GORING. [In his most serious manner.] Of course. You see, it +is a very dangerous thing to listen. If one listens one may be +convinced; and a man who allows himself to be convinced by an +argument is a thoroughly unreasonable person. + +LADY BASILDON. Ah! that accounts for so much in men that I have +never understood, and so much in women that their husbands never +appreciate in them! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [With a sigh.] Our husbands never appreciate +anything in us. We have to go to others for that! + +LADY BASILDON. [Emphatically.] Yes, always to others, have we not? + +LORD GORING. [Smiling.] And those are the views of the two ladies +who are known to have the most admirable husbands in London. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. That is exactly what we can't stand. My Reginald is +quite hopelessly faultless. He is really unendurably so, at times! +There is not the smallest element of excitement in knowing him. + +LORD GORING. How terrible! Really, the thing should be more widely +known! + +LADY BASILDON. Basildon is quite as bad; he is as domestic as if he +was a bachelor. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [Pressing LADY BASILDON'S hand.] My poor Olivia! +We have married perfect husbands, and we are well punished for it. + +LORD GORING. I should have thought it was the husbands who were +punished. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [Drawing herself up.] Oh, dear no! They are as +happy as possible! And as for trusting us, it is tragic how much +they trust us. + +LADY BASILDON. Perfectly tragic! + +LORD GORING. Or comic, Lady Basildon? + +LADY BASILDON. Certainly not comic, Lord Goring. How unkind of you +to suggest such a thing! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. I am afraid Lord Goring is in the camp of the enemy, +as usual. I saw him talking to that Mrs. Cheveley when he came in. + +LORD GORING. Handsome woman, Mrs. Cheveley! + +LADY BASILDON. [Stiffly.] Please don't praise other women in our +presence. You might wait for us to do that! + +LORD GORING. I did wait. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Well, we are not going to praise her. I hear she +went to the Opera on Monday night, and told Tommy Rufford at supper +that, as far as she could see, London Society was entirely made up of +dowdies and dandies. + +LORD GORING. She is quite right, too. The men are all dowdies and +the women are all dandies, aren't they? + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [After a pause.] Oh! do you really think that is +what Mrs. Cheveley meant? + +LORD GORING. Of course. And a very sensible remark for Mrs. +Cheveley to make, too. + +[Enter MABEL CHILTERN. She joins the group.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. Why are you talking about Mrs. Cheveley? Everybody +is talking about Mrs. Cheveley! Lord Goring says - what did you say, +Lord Goring, about Mrs. Cheveley? Oh! I remember, that she was a +genius in the daytime and a beauty at night. + +LADY BASILDON. What a horrid combination! So very unnatural! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [In her most dreamy manner.] I like looking at +geniuses, and listening to beautiful people. + +LORD GORING. Ah! that is morbid of you, Mrs. Marchmont! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [Brightening to a look of real pleasure.] I am so +glad to hear you say that. Marchmont and I have been married for +seven years, and he has never once told me that I was morbid. Men +are so painfully unobservant! + +LADY BASILDON. [Turning to her.] I have always said, dear Margaret, +that you were the most morbid person in London. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Ah! but you are always sympathetic, Olivia! + +MABEL CHILTERN. Is it morbid to have a desire for food? I have a +great desire for food. Lord Goring, will you give me some supper? + +LORD GORING. With pleasure, Miss Mabel. [Moves away with her.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. How horrid you have been! You have never talked to +me the whole evening! + +LORD GORING. How could I? You went away with the child-diplomatist. + +MABEL CHILTERN. You might have followed us. Pursuit would have been +only polite. I don't think I like you at all this evening! + +LORD GORING. I like you immensely. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Well, I wish you'd show it in a more marked way! +[They go downstairs.] + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Olivia, I have a curious feeling of absolute +faintness. I think I should like some supper very much. I know I +should like some supper. + +LADY BASILDON. I am positively dying for supper, Margaret! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Men are so horribly selfish, they never think of +these things. + +LADY BASILDON. Men are grossly material, grossly material! + +[The VICOMTE DE NANJAC enters from the music-room with some other +guests. After having carefully examined all the people present, he +approaches LADY BASILDON.] + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. May I have the honour of taking you down to +supper, Comtesse? + +LADY BASILDON. [Coldly.] I never take supper, thank you, Vicomte. +[The VICOMTE is about to retire. LADY BASILDON, seeing this, rises +at once and takes his arm.] But I will come down with you with +pleasure. + +VICOMTE DE NANJAC. I am so fond of eating! I am very English in all +my tastes. + +LADY BASILDON. You look quite English, Vicomte, quite English. + +[They pass out. MR. MONTFORD, a perfectly groomed young dandy, +approaches MRS. MARCHMONT.] + +MR. MONTFORD. Like some supper, Mrs. Marchmont? + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [Languidly.] Thank you, Mr. Montford, I never touch +supper. [Rises hastily and takes his arm.] But I will sit beside +you, and watch you. + +MR. MONTFORD. I don't know that I like being watched when I am +eating! + +MRS. MARCHMONT. Then I will watch some one else. + +MR. MONTFORD. I don't know that I should like that either. + +MRS. MARCHMONT. [Severely.] Pray, Mr. Montford, do not make these +painful scenes of jealousy in public! + +[They go downstairs with the other guests, passing SIR ROBERT +CHILTERN and MRS. CHEVELEY, who now enter.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And are you going to any of our country houses +before you leave England, Mrs. Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, no! I can't stand your English house-parties. +In England people actually try to be brilliant at breakfast. That is +so dreadful of them! Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast. +And then the family skeleton is always reading family prayers. My +stay in England really depends on you, Sir Robert. [Sits down on the +sofa.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Taking a seat beside her.] Seriously? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Quite seriously. I want to talk to you about a great +political and financial scheme, about this Argentine Canal Company, +in fact. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What a tedious, practical subject for you to +talk about, Mrs. Cheveley! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I like tedious, practical subjects. What I don't +like are tedious, practical people. There is a wide difference. +Besides, you are interested, I know, in International Canal schemes. +You were Lord Radley's secretary, weren't you, when the Government +bought the Suez Canal shares? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes. But the Suez Canal was a very great and +splendid undertaking. It gave us our direct route to India. It had +imperial value. It was necessary that we should have control. This +Argentine scheme is a commonplace Stock Exchange swindle. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. A speculation, Sir Robert! A brilliant, daring +speculation. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Believe me, Mrs. Cheveley, it is a swindle. +Let us call things by their proper names. It makes matters simpler. +We have all the information about it at the Foreign Office. In fact, +I sent out a special Commission to inquire into the matter privately, +and they report that the works are hardly begun, and as for the money +already subscribed, no one seems to know what has become of it. The +whole thing is a second Panama, and with not a quarter of the chance +of success that miserable affair ever had. I hope you have not +invested in it. I am sure you are far too clever to have done that. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I have invested very largely in it. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Who could have advised you to do such a foolish +thing? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Your old friend - and mine. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Who? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Baron Arnheim. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Frowning.] Ah! yes. I remember hearing, at +the time of his death, that he had been mixed up in the whole affair. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. It was his last romance. His last but one, to do him +justice. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Rising.] But you have not seen my Corots yet. +They are in the music-room. Corots seem to go with music, don't +they? May I show them to you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Shaking her head.] I am not in a mood to-night for +silver twilights, or rose-pink dawns. I want to talk business. +[Motions to him with her fan to sit down again beside her.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I fear I have no advice to give you, Mrs. +Cheveley, except to interest yourself in something less dangerous. +The success of the Canal depends, of course, on the attitude of +England, and I am going to lay the report of the Commissioners before +the House to-morrow night. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. That you must not do. In your own interests, Sir +Robert, to say nothing of mine, you must not do that. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Looking at her in wonder.] In my own +interests? My dear Mrs. Cheveley, what do you mean? [Sits down +beside her.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Sir Robert, I will be quite frank with you. I want +you to withdraw the report that you had intended to lay before the +House, on the ground that you have reasons to believe that the +Commissioners have been prejudiced or misinformed, or something. +Then I want you to say a few words to the effect that the Government +is going to reconsider the question, and that you have reason to +believe that the Canal, if completed, will be of great international +value. You know the sort of things ministers say in cases of this +kind. A few ordinary platitudes will do. In modern life nothing +produces such an effect as a good platitude. It makes the whole +world kin. Will you do that for me? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Mrs. Cheveley, you cannot be serious in making +me such a proposition! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I am quite serious. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Coldly.] Pray allow me to believe that you +are not. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Speaking with great deliberation and emphasis.] Ah! +but I am. And if you do what I ask you, I . . . will pay you very +handsomely! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Pay me! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am afraid I don't quite understand what you +mean. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Leaning back on the sofa and looking at him.] How +very disappointing! And I have come all the way from Vienna in order +that you should thoroughly understand me. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I fear I don't. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [In her most nonchalant manner.] My dear Sir Robert, +you are a man of the world, and you have your price, I suppose. +Everybody has nowadays. The drawback is that most people are so +dreadfully expensive. I know I am. I hope you will be more +reasonable in your terms. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Rises indignantly.] If you will allow me, I +will call your carriage for you. You have lived so long abroad, Mrs. +Cheveley, that you seem to be unable to realise that you are talking +to an English gentleman. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Detains him by touching his arm with her fan, and +keeping it there while she is talking.] I realise that I am talking +to a man who laid the foundation of his fortune by selling to a Stock +Exchange speculator a Cabinet secret. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Biting his lip.] What do you mean? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Rising and facing him.] I mean that I know the real +origin of your wealth and your career, and I have got your letter, +too. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What letter? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Contemptuously.] The letter you wrote to Baron +Arnheim, when you were Lord Radley's secretary, telling the Baron to +buy Suez Canal shares - a letter written three days before the +Government announced its own purchase. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Hoarsely.] It is not true. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You thought that letter had been destroyed. How +foolish of you! It is in my possession. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. The affair to which you allude was no more than +a speculation. The House of Commons had not yet passed the bill; it +might have been rejected. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. It was a swindle, Sir Robert. Let us call things by +their proper names. It makes everything simpler. And now I am going +to sell you that letter, and the price I ask for it is your public +support of the Argentine scheme. You made your own fortune out of +one canal. You must help me and my friends to make our fortunes out +of another! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It is infamous, what you propose - infamous! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, no! This is the game of life as we all have to +play it, Sir Robert, sooner or later! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I cannot do what you ask me. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You mean you cannot help doing it. You know you are +standing on the edge of a precipice. And it is not for you to make +terms. It is for you to accept them. Supposing you refuse - + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What then? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. My dear Sir Robert, what then? You are ruined, that +is all! Remember to what a point your Puritanism in England has +brought you. In old days nobody pretended to be a bit better than +his neighbours. In fact, to be a bit better than one's neighbour was +considered excessively vulgar and middle-class. Nowadays, with our +modern mania for morality, every one has to pose as a paragon of +purity, incorruptibility, and all the other seven deadly virtues - +and what is the result? You all go over like ninepins - one after +the other. Not a year passes in England without somebody +disappearing. Scandals used to lend charm, or at least interest, to +a man - now they crush him. And yours is a very nasty scandal. You +couldn't survive it. If it were known that as a young man, secretary +to a great and important minister, you sold a Cabinet secret for a +large sum of money, and that that was the origin of your wealth and +career, you would be hounded out of public life, you would disappear +completely. And after all, Sir Robert, why should you sacrifice your +entire future rather than deal diplomatically with your enemy? For +the moment I am your enemy. I admit it! And I am much stronger than +you are. The big battalions are on my side. You have a splendid +position, but it is your splendid position that makes you so +vulnerable. You can't defend it! And I am in attack. Of course I +have not talked morality to you. You must admit in fairness that I +have spared you that. Years ago you did a clever, unscrupulous +thing; it turned out a great success. You owe to it your fortune and +position. And now you have got to pay for it. Sooner or later we +have all to pay for what we do. You have to pay now. Before I leave +you to-night, you have got to promise me to suppress your report, and +to speak in the House in favour of this scheme. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What you ask is impossible. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You must make it possible. You are going to make it +possible. Sir Robert, you know what your English newspapers are +like. Suppose that when I leave this house I drive down to some +newspaper office, and give them this scandal and the proofs of it! +Think of their loathsome joy, of the delight they would have in +dragging you down, of the mud and mire they would plunge you in. +Think of the hypocrite with his greasy smile penning his leading +article, and arranging the foulness of the public placard. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Stop! You want me to withdraw the report and +to make a short speech stating that I believe there are possibilities +in the scheme? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Sitting down on the sofa.] Those are my terms. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [In a low voice.] I will give you any sum of +money you want. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Even you are not rich enough, Sir Robert, to buy back +your past. No man is. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I will not do what you ask me. I will not. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You have to. If you don't . . . [Rises from the +sofa.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Bewildered and unnerved.] Wait a moment! +What did you propose? You said that you would give me back my +letter, didn't you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. That is agreed. I will be in the Ladies' +Gallery to-morrow night at half-past eleven. If by that time - and +you will have had heaps of opportunity - you have made an +announcement to the House in the terms I wish, I shall hand you back +your letter with the prettiest thanks, and the best, or at any rate +the most suitable, compliment I can think of. I intend to play quite +fairly with you. One should always play fairly . . . when one has +the winning cards. The Baron taught me that . . . amongst other +things. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You must let me have time to consider your +proposal. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. No; you must settle now! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Give me a week - three days! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Impossible! I have got to telegraph to Vienna to- +night. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My God! what brought you into my life? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Circumstances. [Moves towards the door.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Don't go. I consent. The report shall be +withdrawn. I will arrange for a question to be put to me on the +subject. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. I knew we should come to an amicable +agreement. I understood your nature from the first. I analysed you, +though you did not adore me. And now you can get my carriage for me, +Sir Robert. I see the people coming up from supper, and Englishmen +always get romantic after a meal, and that bores me dreadfully. +[Exit SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] + +[Enter Guests, LADY CHILTERN, LADY MARKBY, LORD CAVERSHAM, LADY +BASILDON, MRS. MARCHMONT, VICOMTE DE NANJAC, MR. MONTFORD.] + +LADY MARKBY. Well, dear Mrs. Cheveley, I hope you have enjoyed +yourself. Sir Robert is very entertaining, is he not? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Most entertaining! I have enjoyed my talk with him +immensely. + +LADY MARKBY. He has had a very interesting and brilliant career. +And he has married a most admirable wife. Lady Chiltern is a woman +of the very highest principles, I am glad to say. I am a little too +old now, myself, to trouble about setting a good example, but I +always admire people who do. And Lady Chiltern has a very ennobling +effect on life, though her dinner-parties are rather dull sometimes. +But one can't have everything, can one? And now I must go, dear. +Shall I call for you to-morrow? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. + +LADY MARKBY. We might drive in the Park at five. Everything looks +so fresh in the Park now! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Except the people! + +LADY MARKBY. Perhaps the people are a little jaded. I have often +observed that the Season as it goes on produces a kind of softening +of the brain. However, I think anything is better than high +intellectual pressure. That is the most unbecoming thing there is. +It makes the noses of the young girls so particularly large. And +there is nothing so difficult to marry as a large nose; men don't +like them. Good-night, dear! [To LADY CHILTERN.] Good-night, +Gertrude! [Goes out on LORD CAVERSHAM'S arm.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. What a charming house you have, Lady Chiltern! I +have spent a delightful evening. It has been so interesting getting +to know your husband. + +LADY CHILTERN. Why did you wish to meet my husband, Mrs. Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I will tell you. I wanted to interest him in +this Argentine Canal scheme, of which I dare say you have heard. And +I found him most susceptible, - susceptible to reason, I mean. A +rare thing in a man. I converted him in ten minutes. He is going to +make a speech in the House to-morrow night in favour of the idea. We +must go to the Ladies' Gallery and hear him! It will be a great +occasion! + +LADY CHILTERN. There must be some mistake. That scheme could never +have my husband's support. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I assure you it's all settled. I don't regret my +tedious journey from Vienna now. It has been a great success. But, +of course, for the next twenty-four hours the whole thing is a dead +secret. + +LADY CHILTERN. [Gently.] A secret? Between whom? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [With a flash of amusement in her eyes.] Between +your husband and myself. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Entering.] Your carriage is here, Mm +Cheveley! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks! Good evening, Lady Chiltern! Good-night, +Lord Goring! I am at Claridge's. Don't you think you might leave a +card? + +LORD GORING. If you wish it, Mrs. Cheveley! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, don't be so solemn about it, or I shall be +obliged to leave a card on you. In England I suppose that would +hardly be considered EN REGLE. Abroad, we are more civilised. Will +you see me down, Sir Robert? Now that we have both the same +interests at heart we shall be great friends, I hope! + +[Sails out on SIR ROBERT CHILTERN'S arm. LADY CHILTERN goes to the +top of the staircase and looks down at them as they descend. Her +expression is troubled. After a little time she is joined by some of +the guests, and passes with them into another reception-room.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. What a horrid woman! + +LORD GORING. You should go to bed, Miss Mabel. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring! + +LORD GORING. My father told me to go to bed an hour ago. I don't +see why I shouldn't give you the same advice. I always pass on good +advice. It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use +to oneself. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring, you are always ordering me out of the +room. I think it most courageous of you. Especially as I am not +going to bed for hours. [Goes over to the sofa.] You can come and +sit down if you like, and talk about anything in the world, except +the Royal Academy, Mrs. Cheveley, or novels in Scotch dialect. They +are not improving subjects. [Catches sight of something that is +lying on the sofa half hidden by the cushion.] What is this? Some +one has dropped a diamond brooch! Quite beautiful, isn't it? [Shows +it to him.] I wish it was mine, but Gertrude won't let me wear +anything but pearls, and I am thoroughly sick of pearls. They make +one look so plain, so good and so intellectual. I wonder whom the +brooch belongs to. + +LORD GORING. I wonder who dropped it. + +MABEL CHILTERN. It is a beautiful brooch. + +LORD GORING. It is a handsome bracelet. + +MABEL CHILTERN. It isn't a bracelet. It's a brooch. + +LORD GORING. It can be used as a bracelet. [Takes it from her, and, +pulling out a green letter-case, puts the ornament carefully in it, +and replaces the whole thing in his breast-pocket with the most +perfect sang froid.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. What are you doing? + +LORD GORING. Miss Mabel, I am going to make a rather strange request +to you. + +MABEL CHILTERN. [Eagerly.] Oh, pray do! I have been waiting for it +all the evening. + +LORD GORING. [Is a little taken aback, but recovers himself.] Don't +mention to anybody that I have taken charge of this brooch. Should +any one write and claim it, let me know at once. + +MABEL CHILTERN. That is a strange request. + +LORD GORING. Well, you see I gave this brooch to somebody once, +years ago. + +MABEL CHILTERN. You did? + +LORD GORING. Yes. + +[LADY CHILTERN enters alone. The other guests have gone.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. Then I shall certainly bid you good-night. Good- +night, Gertrude! [Exit.] + +LADY CHILTERN. Good-night, dear! [To LORD GORING.] You saw whom +Lady Markby brought here to-night? + +LORD GORING. Yes. It was an unpleasant surprise. What did she come +here for? + +LADY CHILTERN. Apparently to try and lure Robert to uphold some +fraudulent scheme in which she is interested. The Argentine Canal, +in fact. + +LORD GORING. She has mistaken her man, hasn't she? + +LADY CHILTERN. She is incapable of understanding an upright nature +like my husband's! + +LORD GORING. Yes. I should fancy she came to grief if she tried to +get Robert into her toils. It is extraordinary what astounding +mistakes clever women make. + +LADY CHILTERN. I don't call women of that kind clever. I call them +stupid! + +LORD GORING. Same thing often. Good-night, Lady Chiltern! + +LADY CHILTERN. Good-night! + +[Enter SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My dear Arthur, you are not going? Do stop a +little! + +LORD GORING. Afraid I can't, thanks. I have promised to look in at +the Hartlocks'. I believe they have got a mauve Hungarian band that +plays mauve Hungarian music. See you soon. Good-bye! + +[Exit] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. How beautiful you look to-night, Gertrude! + +LADY CHILTERN. Robert, it is not true, is it? You are not going to +lend your support to this Argentine speculation? You couldn't! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Starting.] Who told you I intended to do so? + +LADY CHILTERN. That woman who has just gone out, Mrs. Cheveley, as +she calls herself now. She seemed to taunt me with it. Robert, I +know this woman. You don't. We were at school together. She was +untruthful, dishonest, an evil influence on every one whose trust or +friendship she could win. I hated, I despised her. She stole +things, she was a thief. She was sent away for being a thief. Why +do you let her influence you? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude, what you tell me may be true, but it +happened many years ago. It is best forgotten! Mrs. Cheveley may +have changed since then. No one should be entirely judged by their +past. + +LADY CHILTERN. [Sadly.] One's past is what one is. It is the only +way by which people should be judged. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. That is a hard saying, Gertrude! + +LADY CHILTERN. It is a true saying, Robert. And what did she mean +by boasting that she had got you to lend your support, your name, to +a thing I have heard you describe as the most dishonest and +fraudulent scheme there has ever been in political life? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Biting his lip.] I was mistaken in the view I +took. We all may make mistakes. + +LADY CHILTERN. But you told me yesterday that you had received the +report from the Commission, and that it entirely condemned the whole +thing. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Walking up and down.] I have reasons now to +believe that the Commission was prejudiced, or, at any rate, +misinformed. Besides, Gertrude, public and private life are +different things. They have different laws, and move on different +lines. + +LADY CHILTERN. They should both represent man at his highest. I see +no difference between them. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Stopping.] In the present case, on a matter +of practical politics, I have changed my mind. That is all. + +LADY CHILTERN. All! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Sternly.] Yes! + +LADY CHILTERN. Robert! Oh! it is horrible that I should have to ask +you such a question - Robert, are you telling me the whole truth? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Why do you ask me such a question? + +LADY CHILTERN. [After a pause.] Why do you not answer it? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Sitting down.] Gertrude, truth is a very +complex thing, and politics is a very complex business. There are +wheels within wheels. One may be under certain obligations to people +that one must pay. Sooner or later in political life one has to +compromise. Every one does. + +LADY CHILTERN. Compromise? Robert, why do you talk so differently +to-night from the way I have always heard you talk? Why are you +changed? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am not changed. But circumstances alter +things. + +LADY CHILTERN. Circumstances should never alter principles! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But if I told you - + +LADY CHILTERN. What? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. That it was necessary, vitally necessary? + +LADY CHILTERN. It can never be necessary to do what is not +honourable. Or if it be necessary, then what is it that I have +loved! But it is not, Robert; tell me it is not. Why should it be? +What gain would you get ? Money? We have no need of that! And +money that comes from a tainted source is a degradation. Power? But +power is nothing in itself. It is power to do good that is fine - +that, and that only. What is it, then? Robert, tell me why you are +going to do this dishonourable thing! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude, you have no right to use that word. +I told you it was a question of rational compromise. It is no more +than that. + +LADY CHILTERN. Robert, that is all very well for other men, for men +who treat life simply as a sordid speculation; but not for you, +Robert, not for you. You are different. All your life you have +stood apart from others. You have never let the world soil you. To +the world, as to myself, you have been an ideal always. Oh! be that +ideal still. That great inheritance throw not away - that tower of +ivory do not destroy. Robert, men can love what is beneath them - +things unworthy, stained, dishonoured. We women worship when we +love; and when we lose our worship, we lose everything. Oh! don't +kill my love for you, don't kill that! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude! + +LADY CHILTERN. I know that there are men with horrible secrets in +their lives - men who have done some shameful thing, and who in some +critical moment have to pay for it, by doing some other act of shame +- oh! don't tell me you are such as they are! Robert, is there in +your life any secret dishonour or disgrace? Tell me, tell me at +once, that - + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. That what? + +LADY CHILTERN. [Speaking very slowly.] That our lives may drift +apart. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Drift apart? + +LADY CHILTERN. That they may be entirely separate. It would be +better for us both. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude, there is nothing in my past life that +you might not know. + +LADY CHILTERN. I was sure of it, Robert, I was sure of it. But why +did you say those dreadful things, things so unlike your real self? +Don't let us ever talk about the subject again. You will write, +won't you, to Mrs. Cheveley, and tell her that you cannot support +this scandalous scheme of hers? If you have given her any promise +you must take it back, that is all! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Must I write and tell her that? + +LADY CHILTERN. Surely, Robert! What else is there to do? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I might see her personally. It would be +better. + +LADY CHILTERN. You must never see her again, Robert. She is not a +woman you should ever speak to. She is not worthy to talk to a man +like you. No; you must write to her at once, now, this moment, and +let your letter show her that your decision is quite irrevocable! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Write this moment! + +LADY CHILTERN. Yes. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But it is so late. It is close on twelve. + +LADY CHILTERN. That makes no matter. She must know at once that she +has been mistaken in you - and that you are not a man to do anything +base or underhand or dishonourable. Write here, Robert. Write that +you decline to support this scheme of hers, as you hold it to be a +dishonest scheme. Yes - write the word dishonest. She knows what +that word means. [SIR ROBERT CHILTERN sits down and writes a letter. +His wife takes it up and reads it.] Yes; that will do. [Rings +bell.] And now the envelope. [He writes the envelope slowly. Enter +MASON.] Have this letter sent at once to Claridge's Hotel. There is +no answer. [Exit MASON. LADY CHILTERN kneels down beside her +husband, and puts her arms around him.] Robert, love gives one an +instinct to things. I feel to-night that I have saved you from +something that might have been a danger to you, from something that +might have made men honour you less than they do. I don't think you +realise sufficiently, Robert, that you have brought into the +political life of our time a nobler atmosphere, a finer attitude +towards life, a freer air of purer aims and higher ideals - I know +it, and for that I love you, Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh, love me always, Gertrude, love me always! + +LADY CHILTERN. I will love you always, because you will always be +worthy of love. We needs must love the highest when we see it! +[Kisses him and rises and goes out.] + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN walks up and down for a moment; then sits down +and buries his face in his hands. The Servant enters and begins +pulling out the lights. SIR ROBERT CHILTERN looks up.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Put out the lights, Mason, put out the lights! + +[The Servant puts out the lights. The room becomes almost dark. The +only light there is comes from the great chandelier that hangs over +the staircase and illumines the tapestry of the Triumph of Love.] + +ACT DROP + + + +SECOND ACT + + + +SCENE + +Morning-room at Sir Robert Chiltern's house. + +[LORD GORING, dressed in the height of fashion, is lounging in an +armchair. SIR ROBERT CHILTERN is standing in front of the fireplace. +He is evidently in a state of great mental excitement and distress. +As the scene progresses he paces nervously up and down the room.] + +LORD GORING. My dear Robert, it's a very awkward business, very +awkward indeed. You should have told your wife the whole thing. +Secrets from other people's wives are a necessary luxury in modern +life. So, at least, I am always told at the club by people who are +bald enough to know better. But no man should have a secret from his +own wife. She invariably finds it out. Women have a wonderful +instinct about things. They can discover everything except the +obvious. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur, I couldn't tell my wife. When could I +have told her? Not last night. It would have made a life-long +separation between us, and I would have lost the love of the one +woman in the world I worship, of the only woman who has ever stirred +love within me. Last night it would have been quite impossible. She +would have turned from me in horror . . . in horror and in contempt. + +LORD GORING. Is Lady Chiltern as perfect as all that? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes; my wife is as perfect as all that. + +LORD GORING. [Taking off his left-hand glove.] What a pity! I beg +your pardon, my dear fellow, I didn't quite mean that. But if what +you tell me is true, I should like to have a serious talk about life +with Lady Chiltern. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It would be quite useless. + +LORD GORING. May I try? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes; but nothing could make her alter her +views. + +LORD GORING. Well, at the worst it would simply be a psychological +experiment. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. All such experiments are terribly dangerous. + +LORD GORING. Everything is dangerous, my dear fellow. If it wasn't +so, life wouldn't be worth living. . . . Well, I am bound to say that +I think you should have told her years ago. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. When? When we were engaged? Do you think she +would have married me if she had known that the origin of my fortune +is such as it is, the basis of my career such as it is, and that I +had done a thing that I suppose most men would call shameful and +dishonourable? + +LORD GORING. [Slowly.] Yes; most men would call it ugly names. +There is no doubt of that. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Bitterly.] Men who every day do something of +the same kind themselves. Men who, each one of them, have worse +secrets in their own lives. + +LORD GORING. That is the reason they are so pleased to find out +other people's secrets. It distracts public attention from their +own. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And, after all, whom did I wrong by what I did? +No one. + +LORD GORING. [Looking at him steadily.] Except yourself, Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [After a pause.] Of course I had private +information about a certain transaction contemplated by the +Government of the day, and I acted on it. Private information is +practically the source of every large modern fortune. + +LORD GORING. [Tapping his boot with his cane.] And public scandal +invariably the result. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Pacing up and down the room.] Arthur, do you +think that what I did nearly eighteen years ago should be brought up +against me now? Do you think it fair that a man's whole career +should be ruined for a fault done in one's boyhood almost? I was +twenty-two at the time, and I had the double misfortune of being +well-born and poor, two unforgiveable things nowadays. Is it fair +that the folly, the sin of one's youth, if men choose to call it a +sin, should wreck a life like mine, should place me in the pillory, +should shatter all that I have worked for, all that I have built up. +Is it fair, Arthur? + +LORD GORING. Life is never fair, Robert. And perhaps it is a good +thing for most of us that it is not. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Every man of ambition has to fight his century +with its own weapons. What this century worships is wealth. The God +of this century is wealth. To succeed one must have wealth. At all +costs one must have wealth. + +LORD GORING. You underrate yourself, Robert. Believe me, without +wealth you could have succeeded just as well. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. When I was old, perhaps. When I had lost my +passion for power, or could not use it. When I was tired, worn out, +disappointed. I wanted my success when I was young. Youth is the +time for success. I couldn't wait. + +LORD GORING. Well, you certainly have had your success while you are +still young. No one in our day has had such a brilliant success. +Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs at the age of forty - that's good +enough for any one, I should think. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And if it is all taken away from me now? If I +lose everything over a horrible scandal? If I am hounded from public +life? + +LORD GORING. Robert, how could you have sold yourself for money? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Excitedly.] I did not sell myself for money. +I bought success at a great price. That is all. + +LORD GORING. [Gravely.] Yes; you certainly paid a great price for +it. But what first made you think of doing such a thing? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Baron Arnheim. + +LORD GORING. Damned scoundrel! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. No; he was a man of a most subtle and refined +intellect. A man of culture, charm, and distinction. One of the +most intellectual men I ever met. + +LORD GORING. Ah! I prefer a gentlemanly fool any day. There is more +to be said for stupidity than people imagine. Personally I have a +great admiration for stupidity. It is a sort of fellow-feeling, I +suppose. But how did he do it? Tell me the whole thing. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Throws himself into an armchair by the +writing-table.] One night after dinner at Lord Radley's the Baron +began talking about success in modern life as something that one +could reduce to an absolutely definite science. With that +wonderfully fascinating quiet voice of his he expounded to us the +most terrible of all philosophies, the philosophy of power, preached +to us the most marvellous of all gospels, the gospel of gold. I +think he saw the effect he had produced on me, for some days +afterwards he wrote and asked me to come and see him. He was living +then in Park Lane, in the house Lord Woolcomb has now. I remember so +well how, with a strange smile on his pale, curved lips, he led me +through his wonderful picture gallery, showed me his tapestries, his +enamels, his jewels, his carved ivories, made me wonder at the +strange loveliness of the luxury in which he lived; and then told me +that luxury was nothing but a background, a painted scene in a play, +and that power, power over other men, power over the world, was the +one thing worth having, the one supreme pleasure worth knowing, the +one joy one never tired of, and that in our century only the rich +possessed it. + +LORD GORING. [With great deliberation.] A thoroughly shallow creed. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Rising.] I didn't think so then. I don't +think so now. Wealth has given me enormous power. It gave me at the +very outset of my life freedom, and freedom is everything. You have +never been poor, and never known what ambition is. You cannot +understand what a wonderful chance the Baron gave me. Such a chance +as few men get. + +LORD GORING. Fortunately for them, if one is to judge by results. +But tell me definitely, how did the Baron finally persuade you to - +well, to do what you did? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. When I was going away he said to me that if I +ever could give him any private information of real value he would +make me a very rich man. I was dazed at the prospect he held out to +me, and my ambition and my desire for power were at that time +boundless. Six weeks later certain private documents passed through +my hands. + +LORD GORING. [Keeping his eyes steadily fixed on the carpet.] State +documents? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes. [LORD GORING sighs, then passes his hand +across his forehead and looks up.] + +LORD GORING. I had no idea that you, of all men in the world, could +have been so weak, Robert, as to yield to such a temptation as Baron +Arnheim held out to you. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Weak? Oh, I am sick of hearing that phrase. +Sick of using it about others. Weak? Do you really think, Arthur, +that it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there +are terrible temptations that it requires strength, strength and +courage, to yield to. To stake all one's life on a single moment, to +risk everything on one throw, whether the stake be power or pleasure, +I care not - there is no weakness in that. There is a horrible, a +terrible courage. I had that courage. I sat down the same afternoon +and wrote Baron Arnheim the letter this woman now holds. He made +three-quarters of a million over the transaction + +LORD GORING. And you? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I received from the Baron 110,000 pounds. + +LORD GORING. You were worth more, Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. No; that money gave me exactly what I wanted, +power over others. I went into the House immediately. The Baron +advised me in finance from time to time. Before five years I had +almost trebled my fortune. Since then everything that I have touched +has turned out a success. In all things connected with money I have +had a luck so extraordinary that sometimes it has made me almost +afraid. I remember having read somewhere, in some strange book, that +when the gods wish to punish us they answer our prayers. + +LORD GORING. But tell me, Robert, did you never suffer any regret +for what you had done? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. No. I felt that I had fought the century with +its own weapons, and won. + +LORD GORING. [Sadly.] You thought you had won. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I thought so. [After a long pause.] Arthur, +do you despise me for what I have told you? + +LORD GORING. [With deep feeling in his voice.] I am very sorry for +you, Robert, very sorry indeed. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I don't say that I suffered any remorse. I +didn't. Not remorse in the ordinary, rather silly sense of the word. +But I have paid conscience money many times. I had a wild hope that +I might disarm destiny. The sum Baron Arnheim gave me I have +distributed twice over in public charities since then. + +LORD GORING. [Looking up.] In public charities? Dear me! what a +lot of harm you must have done, Robert! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh, don't say that, Arthur; don't talk like +that! + +LORD GORING. Never mind what I say, Robert! I am always saying what +I shouldn't say. In fact, I usually say what I really think. A +great mistake nowadays. It makes one so liable to be misunderstood. +As regards this dreadful business, I will help you in whatever way I +can. Of course you know that. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thank you, Arthur, thank you. But what is to +be done? What can be done? + +LORD GORING. [Leaning back with his hands in his pockets.] Well, +the English can't stand a man who is always saying he is in the +right, but they are very fond of a man who admits that he has been in +the wrong. It is one of the best things in them. However, in your +case, Robert, a confession would not do. The money, if you will +allow me to say so, is . . . awkward. Besides, if you did make a +clean breast of the whole affair, you would never be able to talk +morality again. And in England a man who can't talk morality twice a +week to a large, popular, immoral audience is quite over as a serious +politician. There would be nothing left for him as a profession +except Botany or the Church. A confession would be of no use. It +would ruin you. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It would ruin me. Arthur, the only thing for +me to do now is to fight the thing out. + +LORD GORING. [Rising from his chair.] I was waiting for you to say +that, Robert. It is the only thing to do now. And you must begin by +telling your wife the whole story. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. That I will not do. + +LORD GORING. Robert, believe me, you are wrong. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I couldn't do it. It would kill her love for +me. And now about this woman, this Mrs. Cheveley. How can I defend +myself against her? You knew her before, Arthur, apparently. + +LORD GORING. Yes. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Did you know her well? + +LORD GORING. [Arranging his necktie.] So little that I got engaged +to be married to her once, when I was staying at the Tenbys'. The +affair lasted for three days . . . nearly. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Why was it broken off? + +LORD GORING. [Airily.] Oh, I forget. At least, it makes no matter. +By the way, have you tried her with money? She used to be +confoundedly fond of money. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I offered her any sum she wanted. She refused. + +LORD GORING. Then the marvellous gospel of gold breaks down +sometimes. The rich can't do everything, after all. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Not everything. I suppose you are right. +Arthur, I feel that public disgrace is in store for me. I feel +certain of it. I never knew what terror was before. I know it now. +It is as if a hand of ice were laid upon one's heart. It is as if +one's heart were beating itself to death in some empty hollow. + +LORD GORING. [Striking the table.] Robert, you must fight her. You +must fight her. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But how? + +LORD GORING. I can't tell you how at present. I have not the +smallest idea. But every one has some weak point. There is some +flaw in each one of us. [Strolls to the fireplace and looks at +himself in the glass.] My father tells me that even I have faults. +Perhaps I have. I don't know. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. In defending myself against Mrs. Cheveley, I +have a right to use any weapon I can find, have I not? + +LORD GORING. [Still looking in the glass.] In your place I don't +think I should have the smallest scruple in doing so. She is +thoroughly well able to take care of herself. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Sits down at the table and takes a pen in his +hand.] Well, I shall send a cipher telegram to the Embassy at +Vienna, to inquire if there is anything known against her. There may +be some secret scandal she might be afraid of. + +LORD GORING. [Settling his buttonhole.] Oh, I should fancy Mrs. +Cheveley is one of those very modern women of our time who find a new +scandal as becoming as a new bonnet, and air them both in the Park +every afternoon at five-thirty. I am sure she adores scandals, and +that the sorrow of her life at present is that she can't manage to +have enough of them. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Writing.] Why do you say that? + +LORD GORING. [Turning round.] Well, she wore far too much rouge +last night, and not quite enough clothes. That is always a sign of +despair in a woman. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Striking a bell.] But it is worth while my +wiring to Vienna, is it not? + +LORD GORING. It is always worth while asking a question, though it +is not always worth while answering one. + +[Enter MASON.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Is Mr. Trafford in his room? + +MASON. Yes, Sir Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Puts what he has written into an envelope, +which he then carefully closes.] Tell him to have this sent off in +cipher at once. There must not be a moment's delay. + +MASON. Yes, Sir Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh! just give that back to me again. + +[Writes something on the envelope. MASON then goes out with the +letter.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. She must have had some curious hold over Baron +Arnheim. I wonder what it was. + +LORD GORING. [Smiling.] I wonder. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I will fight her to the death, as long as my +wife knows nothing. + +LORD GORING. [Strongly.] Oh, fight in any case - in any case. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [With a gesture of despair.] If my wife found +out, there would be little left to fight for. Well, as soon as I +hear from Vienna, I shall let you know the result. It is a chance, +just a chance, but I believe in it. And as I fought the age with its +own weapons, I will fight her with her weapons. It is only fair, and +she looks like a woman with a past, doesn't she? + +LORD GORING. Most pretty women do. But there is a fashion in pasts +just as there is a fashion in frocks. Perhaps Mrs. Cheveley's past +is merely a slightly DECOLLETE one, and they are excessively popular +nowadays. Besides, my dear Robert, I should not build too high hopes +on frightening Mrs. Cheveley. I should not fancy Mrs. Cheveley is a +woman who would be easily frightened. She has survived all her +creditors, and she shows wonderful presence of mind. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh! I live on hopes now. I clutch at every +chance. I feel like a man on a ship that is sinking. The water is +round my feet, and the very air is bitter with storm. Hush! I hear +my wife's voice. + +[Enter LADY CHILTERN in walking dress.] + +LADY CHILTERN. Good afternoon, Lord Goring! + +LORD GORING. Good afternoon, Lady Chiltern! Have you been in the +Park? + +LADY CHILTERN. No; I have just come from the Woman's Liberal +Association, where, by the way, Robert, your name was received with +loud applause, and now I have come in to have my tea. [To LORD +GORING.] You will wait and have some tea, won't you? + +LORD GORING. I'll wait for a short time, thanks. + +LADY CHILTERN. I will be back in a moment. I am only going to take +my hat off. + +LORD GORING. [In his most earnest manner.] Oh! please don't. It is +so pretty. One of the prettiest hats I ever saw. I hope the Woman's +Liberal Association received it with loud applause. + +LADY CHILTERN. [With a smile.] We have much more important work to +do than look at each other's bonnets, Lord Goring. + +LORD GORING. Really? What sort of work? + +LADY CHILTERN. Oh! dull, useful, delightful things, Factory Acts, +Female Inspectors, the Eight Hours' Bill, the Parliamentary +Franchise. . . . Everything, in fact, that you would find thoroughly +uninteresting. + +LORD GORING. And never bonnets? + +LADY CHILTERN. [With mock indignation.] Never bonnets, never! + +[LADY CHILTERN goes out through the door leading to her boudoir.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Takes LORD GORING'S hand.] You have been a +good friend to me, Arthur, a thoroughly good friend. + +LORD GORING. I don't know that I have been able to do much for you, +Robert, as yet. In fact, I have not been able to do anything for +you, as far as I can see. I am thoroughly disappointed with myself. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You have enabled me to tell you the truth. +That is something. The truth has always stifled me. + +LORD GORING. Ah! the truth is a thing I get rid of as soon as +possible! Bad habit, by the way. Makes one very unpopular at the +club . . . with the older members. They call it being conceited. +Perhaps it is. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I would to God that I had been able to tell the +truth . . . to live the truth. Ah! that is the great thing in life, +to live the truth. [Sighs, and goes towards the door.] I'll see you +soon again, Arthur, shan't I? + +LORD GORING. Certainly. Whenever you like. I'm going to look in at +the Bachelors' Ball to-night, unless I find something better to do. +But I'll come round to-morrow morning. If you should want me to- +night by any chance, send round a note to Curzon Street. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thank you. + +[As he reaches the door, LADY CHILTERN enters from her boudoir.] + +LADY CHILTERN. You are not going, Robert? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I have some letters to write, dear. + +LADY CHILTERN. [Going to him.] You work too hard, Robert. You seem +never to think of yourself, and you are looking so tired. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It is nothing, dear, nothing. + +[He kisses her and goes out.] + +LADY CHILTERN. [To LORD GORING.] Do sit down. I am so glad you +have called. I want to talk to you about . . . well, not about +bonnets, or the Woman's Liberal Association. You take far too much +interest in the first subject, and not nearly enough in the second. + +LORD GORING. You want to talk to me about Mrs. Cheveley? + +LADY CHILTERN. Yes. You have guessed it. After you left last night +I found out that what she had said was really true. Of course I made +Robert write her a letter at once, withdrawing his promise. + +LORD GORING. So he gave me to understand. + +LADY CHILTERN. To have kept it would have been the first stain on a +career that has been stainless always. Robert must be above +reproach. He is not like other men. He cannot afford to do what +other men do. [She looks at LORD GORING, who remains silent.] Don't +you agree with me? You are Robert's greatest friend. You are our +greatest friend, Lord Goring. No one, except myself, knows Robert +better than you do. He has no secrets from me, and I don't think he +has any from you. + +LORD GORING. He certainly has no secrets from me. At least I don't +think so. + +LADY CHILTERN. Then am I not right in my estimate of him? I know I +am right. But speak to me frankly. + +LORD GORING. [Looking straight at her.] Quite frankly? + +LADY CHILTERN. Surely. You have nothing to conceal, have you? + +LORD GORING. Nothing. But, my dear Lady Chiltern, I think, if you +will allow me to say so, that in practical life - + +LADY CHILTERN. [Smiling.] Of which you know so little, Lord Goring +- + +LORD GORING. Of which I know nothing by experience, though I know +something by observation. I think that in practical life there is +something about success, actual success, that is a little +unscrupulous, something about ambition that is unscrupulous always. +Once a man has set his heart and soul on getting to a certain point, +if he has to climb the crag, he climbs the crag; if he has to walk in +the mire - + +LADY CHILTERN. Well? + +LORD GORING. He walks in the mire. Of course I am only talking +generally about life. + +LADY CHILTERN. [Gravely.] I hope so. Why do you look at me so +strangely, Lord Goring? + +LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern, I have sometimes thought that . . . +perhaps you are a little hard in some of your views on life. I think +that . . . often you don't make sufficient allowances. In every +nature there are elements of weakness, or worse than weakness. +Supposing, for instance, that - that any public man, my father, or +Lord Merton, or Robert, say, had, years ago, written some foolish +letter to some one . . . + +LADY CHILTERN. What do you mean by a foolish letter? + +LORD GORING. A letter gravely compromising one's position. I am +only putting an imaginary case. + +LADY CHILTERN. Robert is as incapable of doing a foolish thing as he +is of doing a wrong thing. + +LORD GORING. [After a long pause.] Nobody is incapable of doing a +foolish thing. Nobody is incapable of doing a wrong thing. + +LADY CHILTERN. Are you a Pessimist? What will the other dandies +say? They will all have to go into mourning. + +LORD GORING. [Rising.] No, Lady Chiltern, I am not a Pessimist. +Indeed I am not sure that I quite know what Pessimism really means. +All I do know is that life cannot be understood without much charity, +cannot be lived without much charity. It is love, and not German +philosophy, that is the true explanation of this world, whatever may +be the explanation of the next. And if you are ever in trouble, Lady +Chiltern, trust me absolutely, and I will help you in every way I +can. If you ever want me, come to me for my assistance, and you +shall have it. Come at once to me. + +LADY CHILTERN. [Looking at him in surprise.] Lord Goring, you are +talking quite seriously. I don't think I ever heard you talk +seriously before. + +LORD GORING. [Laughing.] You must excuse me, Lady Chiltern. It +won't occur again, if I can help it. + +LADY CHILTERN. But I like you to be serious. + +[Enter MABEL CHILTERN, in the most ravishing frock.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. Dear Gertrude, don't say such a dreadful thing to +Lord Goring. Seriousness would be very unbecoming to him. Good +afternoon Lord Goring! Pray be as trivial as you can. + +LORD GORING. I should like to, Miss Mabel, but I am afraid I am . . +. a little out of practice this morning; and besides, I have to be +going now. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Just when I have come in! What dreadful manners you +have! I am sure you were very badly brought up. + +LORD GORING. I was. + +MABEL CHILTERN. I wish I had brought you up! + +LORD GORING. I am so sorry you didn't. + +MABEL CHILTERN. It is too late now, I suppose + +LORD GORING. [Smiling.] I am not so sure. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Will you ride to-morrow morning? + +LORD GORING. Yes, at ten. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Don't forget + +LORD GORING. Of course I shan't. By the way, Lady Chiltern, there +is no list of your guests in THE MORNING POST of to-day. It has +apparently been crowded out by the County Council, or the Lambeth +Conference, or something equally boring. Could you let me have a +list? I have a particular reason for asking you. + +LADY CHILTERN. I am sure Mr. Trafford will be able to give you one. + +LORD GORING. Thanks, so much. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Tommy is the most useful person in London. + +LORD GORING [Turning to her.] And who is the most ornamental? + +MABEL CHILTERN [Triumphantly.] I am. + +LORD GORING. How clever of you to guess it! [Takes up his hat and +cane.] Good-bye, Lady Chiltern! You will remember what I said to +you, won't you? + +LADY CHILTERN. Yes; but I don't know why you said it to me. + +LORD GORING. I hardly know myself. Good-bye, Miss Mabel! + +MABEL CHILTERN [With a little moue of disappointment.] I wish you +were not going. I have had four wonderful adventures this morning; +four and a half, in fact. You might stop and listen to some of them. + +LORD GORING. How very selfish of you to have four and a half! There +won't be any left for me. + +MABEL CHILTERN. I don't want you to have any. They would not be +good for you. + +LORD GORING. That is the first unkind thing you have ever said to +me. How charmingly you said it! Ten to-morrow. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Sharp. + +LORD GORING. Quite sharp. But don't bring Mr. Trafford. + +MABEL CHILTERN. [With a little toss of the head.] Of course I +shan't bring Tommy Trafford. Tommy Trafford is in great disgrace. + +LORD GORING. I am delighted to hear it. [Bows and goes out.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. Gertrude, I wish you would speak to Tommy Trafford. + +LADY CHILTERN. What has poor Mr. Trafford done this time? Robert +says he is the best secretary he has ever had. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Well, Tommy has proposed to me again. Tommy really +does nothing but propose to me. He proposed to me last night in the +music-room, when I was quite unprotected, as there was an elaborate +trio going on. I didn't dare to make the smallest repartee, I need +hardly tell you. If I had, it would have stopped the music at once. +Musical people are so absurdly unreasonable. They always want one to +be perfectly dumb at the very moment when one is longing to be +absolutely deaf. Then he proposed to me in broad daylight this +morning, in front of that dreadful statue of Achilles. Really, the +things that go on in front of that work of art are quite appalling. +The police should interfere. At luncheon I saw by the glare in his +eye that he was going to propose again, and I just managed to check +him in time by assuring him that I was a bimetallist. Fortunately I +don't know what bimetallism means. And I don't believe anybody else +does either. But the observation crushed Tommy for ten minutes. He +looked quite shocked. And then Tommy is so annoying in the way he +proposes. If he proposed at the top of his voice, I should not mind +so much. That might produce some effect on the public. But he does +it in a horrid confidential way. When Tommy wants to be romantic he +talks to one just like a doctor. I am very fond of Tommy, but his +methods of proposing are quite out of date. I wish, Gertrude, you +would speak to him, and tell him that once a week is quite often +enough to propose to any one, and that it should always be done in a +manner that attracts some attention. + +LADY CHILTERN. Dear Mabel, don't talk like that. Besides, Robert +thinks very highly of Mr. Trafford. He believes he has a brilliant +future before him. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! I wouldn't marry a man with a future before him +for anything under the sun. + +LADY CHILTERN. Mabel! + +MABEL CHILTERN. I know, dear. You married a man with a future, +didn't you? But then Robert was a genius, and you have a noble, +self-sacrificing character. You can stand geniuses. I have no, +character at all, and Robert is the only genius I could ever bear. +As a rule, I think they are quite impossible. Geniuses talk so much, +don't they? Such a bad habit! And they are always thinking about +themselves, when I want them to be thinking about me. I must go +round now and rehearse at Lady Basildon's. You remember, we are +having tableaux, don't you? The Triumph of something, I don't know +what! I hope it will be triumph of me. Only triumph I am really +interested in at present. [Kisses LADY CHILTERN and goes out; then +comes running back.] Oh, Gertrude, do you know who is coming to see +you? That dreadful Mrs. Cheveley, in a most lovely gown. Did you +ask her? + +LADY CHILTERN. [Rising.] Mrs. Cheveley! Coming to see me? +Impossible! + +MABEL CHILTERN. I assure you she is coming upstairs, as large as +life and not nearly so natural. + +LADY CHILTERN. You need not wait, Mabel. Remember, Lady Basildon is +expecting you. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! I must shake hands with Lady Markby. She is +delightful. I love being scolded by her. + +[Enter MASON.] + +MASON. Lady Markby. Mrs. Cheveley. + +[Enter LADY MARKBY and MRS. CHEVELEY.] + +LADY CHILTERN. [Advancing to meet them.] Dear Lady Markby, how nice +of you to come and see me! [Shakes hands with her, and bows somewhat +distantly to MRS. CHEVELEY.] Won't you sit down, Mrs. Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. Isn't that Miss Chiltern? I should like so +much to know her. + +LADY CHILTERN. Mabel, Mrs. Cheveley wishes to know you. + +[MABEL CHILTERN gives a little nod.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY [Sitting down.] I thought your frock so charming last +night, Miss Chiltern. So simple and . . . suitable. + +MABEL CHILTERN. Really? I must tell my dressmaker. It will be such +a surprise to her. Good-bye, Lady Markby! + +LADY MARKBY. Going already? + +MABEL CHILTERN. I am so sorry but I am obliged to. I am just off to +rehearsal. I have got to stand on my head in some tableaux. + +LADY MARKBY. On your head, child? Oh! I hope not. I believe it is +most unhealthy. [Takes a seat on the sofa next LADY CHILTERN.] + +MABEL CHILTERN. But it is for an excellent charity: in aid of the +Undeserving, the only people I am really interested in. I am the +secretary, and Tommy Trafford is treasurer. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. And what is Lord Goring? + +MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! Lord Goring is president. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. The post should suit him admirably, unless he has +deteriorated since I knew him first. + +LADY MARKBY. [Reflecting.] You are remarkably modern, Mabel. A +little too modern, perhaps. Nothing is so dangerous as being too +modern. One is apt to grow old-fashioned quite suddenly. I have +known many instances of it + +MABEL CHILTERN. What a dreadful prospect! + +LADY MARKBY. Ah! my dear, you need not be nervous. You will always +be as pretty as possible. That is the best fashion there is, and the +only fashion that England succeeds in setting. + +MABEL CHILTERN. [With a curtsey.] Thank you so much, Lady Markby, +for England . . . and myself. [Goes out.] + +LADY MARKBY. [Turning to LADY CHILTERN.] Dear Gertrude, we just +called to know if Mrs. Cheveley's diamond brooch has been found. + +LADY CHILTERN. Here? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. I missed it when I got back to Claridge's, and +I thought I might possibly have dropped it here. + +LADY CHILTERN. I have heard nothing about it. But I will send for +the butler and ask. [Touches the bell.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, pray don't trouble, Lady Chiltern. I dare say I +lost it at the Opera, before we came on here. + +LADY MARKBY. Ah yes, I suppose it must have been at the Opera. The +fact is, we all scramble and jostle so much nowadays that I wonder we +have anything at all left on us at the end of an evening. I know +myself that, when I am coming back from the Drawing Room, I always +feel as if I hadn't a shred on me, except a small shred of decent +reputation, just enough to prevent the lower classes making painful +observations through the windows of the carriage. The fact is that +our Society is terribly over-populated. Really, some one should +arrange a proper scheme of assisted emigration. It would do a great +deal of good. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I quite agree with you, Lady Markby. It is nearly +six years since I have been in London for the Season, and I must say +Society has become dreadfully mixed. One sees the oddest people +everywhere. + +LADY MARKBY. That is quite true, dear. But one needn't know them. +I'm sure I don't know half the people who come to my house. Indeed, +from all I hear, I shouldn't like to. + +[Enter MASON.] + +LADY CHILTERN. What sort of a brooch was it that you lost, Mrs. +Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. A diamond snake-brooch with a ruby, a rather large +ruby. + +LADY MARKBY. I thought you said there was a sapphire on the head, +dear? + +MRS. CHEVELEY [Smiling.] No, lady Markby - a ruby. + +LADY MARKBY. [Nodding her head.] And very becoming, I am quite +sure. + +LADY CHILTERN. Has a ruby and diamond brooch been found in any of +the rooms this morning, Mason? + +MASON. No, my lady. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. It really is of no consequence, Lady Chiltern. I am +so sorry to have put you to any inconvenience. + +LADY CHILTERN. [Coldly.] Oh, it has been no inconvenience. That +will do, Mason. You can bring tea. + +[Exit MASON.] + +LADY MARKBY. Well, I must say it is most annoying to lose anything. +I remember once at Bath, years ago, losing in the Pump Room an +exceedingly handsome cameo bracelet that Sir John had given me. I +don't think he has ever given me anything since, I am sorry to say. +He has sadly degenerated. Really, this horrid House of Commons quite +ruins our husbands for us. I think the Lower House by far the +greatest blow to a happy married life that there has been since that +terrible thing called the Higher Education of Women was invented. + +LADY CHILTERN. Ah! it is heresy to say that in this house, Lady +Markby. Robert is a great champion of the Higher Education of Women, +and so, I am afraid, am I. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. The higher education of men is what I should like to +see. Men need it so sadly. + +LADY MARKBY. They do, dear. But I am afraid such a scheme would be +quite unpractical. I don't think man has much capacity for +development. He has got as far as he can, and that is not far, is +it? With regard to women, well, dear Gertrude, you belong to the +younger generation, and I am sure it is all right if you approve of +it. In my time, of course, we were taught not to understand +anything. That was the old system, and wonderfully interesting it +was. I assure you that the amount of things I and my poor dear +sister were taught not to understand was quite extraordinary. But +modern women understand everything, I am told. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Except their husbands. That is the one thing the +modern woman never understands. + +LADY MARKBY. And a very good thing too, dear, I dare say. It might +break up many a happy home if they did. Not yours, I need hardly +say, Gertrude. You have married a pattern husband. I wish I could +say as much for myself. But since Sir John has taken to attending +the debates regularly, which he never used to do in the good old +days, his language has become quite impossible. He always seems to +think that he is addressing the House, and consequently whenever he +discusses the state of the agricultural labourer, or the Welsh +Church, or something quite improper of that kind, I am obliged to +send all the servants out of the room. It is not pleasant to see +one's own butler, who has been with one for twenty-three years, +actually blushing at the side-board, and the footmen making +contortions in corners like persons in circuses. I assure you my +life will be quite ruined unless they send John at once to the Upper +House. He won't take any interest in politics then, will he? The +House of Lords is so sensible. An assembly of gentlemen. But in his +present state, Sir John is really a great trial. Why, this morning +before breakfast was half over, he stood up on the hearthrug, put his +hands in his pockets, and appealed to the country at the top of his +voice. I left the table as soon as I had my second cup of tea, I +need hardly say. But his violent language could be heard all over +the house! I trust, Gertrude, that Sir Robert is not like that + +LADY CHILTERN. But I am very much interested in politics, Lady +Markby. I love to hear Robert talk about them. + +LADY MARKBY. Well, I hope he is not as devoted to Blue Books as Sir +John is. I don't think they can be quite improving reading for any +one. + +MRS. CHEVELEY [Languidly.] I have never read a Blue Book. I prefer +books . . . in yellow covers. + +LADY MARKBY. [Genially unconscious.] Yellow is a gayer colour, is +it not? I used to wear yellow a good deal in my early days, and +would do so now if Sir John was not so painfully personal in his +observations, and a man on the question of dress is always +ridiculous, is he not? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, no! I think men are the only authorities on +dress. + +LADY MARKBY. Really? One wouldn't say so from the sort of hats they +wear? would one? + +[The butler enters, followed by the footman. Tea is set on a small +table close to LADY CHILTERN.] + +LADY CHILTERN. May I give you some tea, Mrs. Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. [The butler hands MRS. CHEVELEY a cup of tea +on a salver.] + +LADY CHILTERN. Some tea, Lady Markby? + +LADY MARKBY. No thanks, dear. [The servants go out.] The fact is, +I have promised to go round for ten minutes to see poor Lady +Brancaster, who is in very great trouble. Her daughter, quite a +well-brought-up girl, too, has actually become engaged to be married +to a curate in Shropshire. It is very sad, very sad indeed. I can't +understand this modern mania for curates. In my time we girls saw +them, of course, running about the place like rabbits. But we never +took any notice of them, I need hardly say. But I am told that +nowadays country society is quite honeycombed with them. I think it +most irreligious. And then the eldest son has quarrelled with his +father, and it is said that when they meet at the club Lord +Brancaster always hides himself behind the money article in THE +TIMES. However, I believe that is quite a common occurrence nowadays +and that they have to take in extra copies of THE TIMES at all the +clubs in St. James's Street; there are so many sons who won't have +anything to do with their fathers, and so many fathers who won't +speak to their sons. I think myself, it is very much to be +regretted. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. So do I. Fathers have so much to learn from their +sons nowadays. + +LADY MARKBY. Really, dear? What? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. The art of living. The only really Fine Art we have +produced in modern times. + +LADY MARKBY. [Shaking her head.] Ah! I am afraid Lord Brancaster +knew a good deal about that. More than his poor wife ever did. +[Turning to LADY CHILTERN.] You know Lady Brancaster, don't you, +dear? + +LADY CHILTERN. Just slightly. She was staying at Langton last +autumn, when we were there. + +LADY MARKBY. Well, like all stout women, she looks the very picture +of happiness, as no doubt you noticed. But there are many tragedies +in her family, besides this affair of the curate. Her own sister, +Mrs. Jekyll, had a most unhappy life; through no fault of her own, I +am sorry to say. She ultimately was so broken-hearted that she went +into a convent, or on to the operatic stage, I forget which. No; I +think it was decorative art-needlework she took up. I know she had +lost all sense of pleasure in life. [Rising.] And now, Gertrude, if +you will allow me, I shall leave Mrs. Cheveley in your charge and +call back for her in a quarter of an hour. Or perhaps, dear Mrs. +Cheveley, you wouldn't mind waiting in the carriage while I am with +Lady Brancaster. As I intend it to be a visit of condolence, I +shan't stay long. + +MRS. CHEVELEY [Rising.] I don't mind waiting in the carriage at all, +provided there is somebody to look at one. + +LADY MARKBY. Well, I hear the curate is always prowling about the +house. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I am afraid I am not fond of girl friends. + +LADY CHILTERN [Rising.] Oh, I hope Mrs. Cheveley will stay here a +little. I should like to have a few minutes' conversation with her. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. How very kind of you, Lady Chiltern! Believe me, +nothing would give me greater pleasure. + +LADY MARKBY. Ah! no doubt you both have many pleasant reminiscences +of your schooldays to talk over together. Good-bye, dear Gertrude! +Shall I see you at Lady Bonar's to-night? She has discovered a +wonderful new genius. He does . . . nothing at all, I believe. That +is a great comfort, is it not? + +LADY CHILTERN. Robert and I are dining at home by ourselves to- +night, and I don't think I shall go anywhere afterwards. Robert, of +course, will have to be in the House. But there is nothing +interesting on. + +LADY MARKBY. Dining at home by yourselves? Is that quite prudent? +Ah, I forgot, your husband is an exception. Mine is the general +rule, and nothing ages a woman so rapidly as having married the +general rule. [Exit LADY MARKBY.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Wonderful woman, Lady Markby, isn't she? Talks more +and says less than anybody I ever met. She is made to be a public +speaker. Much more so than her husband, though he is a typical +Englishman, always dull and usually violent. + +LADY CHILTERN. [Makes no answer, but remains standing. There is a +pause. Then the eyes of the two women meet. LADY CHILTERN looks +stern and pale. MRS. CHEVELEY seem rather amused.] Mrs. Cheveley, I +think it is right to tell you quite frankly that, had I known who you +really were, I should not have invited you to my house last night. + +MRS. CHEVELEY [With an impertinent smile.] Really? + +LADY CHILTERN. I could not have done so. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I see that after all these years you have not changed +a bit, Gertrude. + +LADY CHILTERN. I never change. + +MRS. CHEVELEY [Elevating her eyebrows.] Then life has taught you +nothing? + +LADY CHILTERN. It has taught me that a person who has once been +guilty of a dishonest and dishonourable action may be guilty of it a +second time, and should be shunned. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Would you apply that rule to every one? + +LADY CHILTERN. Yes, to every one, without exception. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Then I am sorry for you, Gertrude, very sorry for +you. + +LADY CHILTERN. You see now, I was sure, that for many reasons any +further acquaintance between us during your stay in London is quite +impossible? + +MRS. CHEVELEY [Leaning back in her chair.] Do you know, Gertrude, I +don't mind your talking morality a bit. Morality is simply the +attitude we adopt towards people whom we personally dislike. You +dislike me. I am quite aware of that. And I have always detested +you. And yet I have come here to do you a service. + +LADY CHILTERN. [Contemptuously.] Like the service you wished to +render my husband last night, I suppose. Thank heaven, I saved him +from that. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Starting to her feet.] It was you who made him +write that insolent letter to me? It was you who made him break his +promise? + +LADY CHILTERN. Yes. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Then you must make him keep it. I give you till to- +morrow morning - no more. If by that time your husband does not +solemnly bind himself to help me in this great scheme in which I am +interested - + +LADY CHILTERN. This fraudulent speculation - + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Call it what you choose. I hold your husband in the +hollow of my hand, and if you are wise you will make him do what I +tell him. + +LADY CHILTERN. [Rising and going towards her.] You are impertinent. +What has my husband to do with you? With a woman like you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY [With a bitter laugh.] In this world like meets with +like. It is because your husband is himself fraudulent and dishonest +that we pair so well together. Between you and him there are chasms. +He and I are closer than friends. We are enemies linked together. +The same sin binds us. + +LADY CHILTERN. How dare you class my husband with yourself? How +dare you threaten him or me? Leave my house. You are unfit to enter +it. + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN enters from behind. He hears his wife's last +words, and sees to whom they are addressed. He grows deadly pale.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Your house! A house bought with the price of +dishonour. A house, everything in which has been paid for by fraud. +[Turns round and sees SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] Ask him what the origin +of his fortune is! Get him to tell you how he sold to a stockbroker +a Cabinet secret. Learn from him to what you owe your position. + +LADY CHILTERN. It is not true! Robert! It is not true! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Pointing at him with outstretched finger.] Look at +him! Can he deny it? Does he dare to? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Go! Go at once. You have done your worst now. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. My worst? I have not yet finished with you, with +either of you. I give you both till to-morrow at noon. If by then +you don't do what I bid you to do, the whole world shall know the +origin of Robert Chiltern. + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN strikes the bell. Enter MASON.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Show Mrs. Cheveley out. + +[MRS. CHEVELEY starts; then bows with somewhat exaggerated politeness +to LADY CHILTERN, who makes no sign of response. As she passes by +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN, who is standing close to the door, she pauses +for a moment and looks him straight in the face. She then goes out, +followed by the servant, who closes the door after him. The husband +and wife are left alone. LADY CHILTERN stands like some one in a +dreadful dream. Then she turns round and looks at her husband. She +looks at him with strange eyes, as though she were seeing him for the +first time.] + +LADY CHILTERN. You sold a Cabinet secret for money! You began your +life with fraud! You built up your career on dishonour! Oh, tell me +it is not true! Lie to me! Lie to me! Tell me it is not true! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What this woman said is quite true. But, +Gertrude, listen to me. You don't realise how I was tempted. Let me +tell you the whole thing. [Goes towards her.] + +LADY CHILTERN. Don't come near me. Don't touch me. I feel as if +you had soiled me for ever. Oh! what a mask you have been wearing +all these years! A horrible painted mask! You sold yourself for +money. Oh! a common thief were better. You put yourself up to sale +to the highest bidder! You were bought in the market. You lied to +the whole world. And yet you will not lie to me. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Rushing towards her.] Gertrude! Gertrude! + +LADY CHILTERN. [Thrusting him back with outstretched hands.] No, +don't speak! Say nothing! Your voice wakes terrible memories - +memories of things that made me love you - memories of words that +made me love you - memories that now are horrible to me. And how I +worshipped you! You were to me something apart from common life, a +thing pure, noble, honest, without stain. The world seemed to me +finer because you were in it, and goodness more real because you +lived. And now - oh, when I think that I made of a man like you my +ideal! the ideal of my life! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. There was your mistake. There was your error. +The error all women commit. Why can't you women love us, faults and +all? Why do you place us on monstrous pedestals? We have all feet +of clay, women as well as men; but when we men love women, we love +them knowing their weaknesses, their follies, their imperfections, +love them all the more, it may be, for that reason. It is not the +perfect, but the imperfect, who have need of love. It is when we are +wounded by our own hands, or by the hands of others, that love should +come to cure us - else what use is love at all? All sins, except a +sin against itself, Love should forgive. All lives, save loveless +lives, true Love should pardon. A man's love is like that. It is +wider, larger, more human than a woman's. Women think that they are +making ideals of men. What they are making of us are false idols +merely. You made your false idol of me, and I had not the courage to +come down, show you my wounds, tell you my weaknesses. I was afraid +that I might lose your love, as I have lost it now. And so, last +night you ruined my life for me - yes, ruined it! What this woman +asked of me was nothing compared to what she offered to me. She +offered security, peace, stability. The sin of my youth, that I had +thought was buried, rose up in front of me, hideous, horrible, with +its hands at my throat. I could have killed it for ever, sent it +back into its tomb, destroyed its record, burned the one witness +against me. You prevented me. No one but you, you know it. And now +what is there before me but public disgrace, ruin, terrible shame, +the mockery of the world, a lonely dishonoured life, a lonely +dishonoured death, it may be, some day? Let women make no more +ideals of men! let them not put them on alters and bow before them, +or they may ruin other lives as completely as you - you whom I have +so wildly loved - have ruined mine! + +[He passes from the room. LADY CHILTERN rushes towards him, but the +door is closed when she reaches it. Pale with anguish, bewildered, +helpless, she sways like a plant in the water. Her hands, +outstretched, stem to tremble in the air like blossoms in the mind. +Then she flings herself down beside a sofa and buries her face. Her +sobs are like the sobs of a child.] + +ACT DROP + + + +THIRD ACT + + + +SCENE + +The Library in Lord Goring's house. An Adam room. On the right is +the door leading into the hall. On the left, the door of the +smoking-room. A pair of folding doors at the back open into the +drawing-room. The fire is lit. Phipps, the butler, is arranging +some newspapers on the writing-table. The distinction of Phipps is +his impassivity. He has been termed by enthusiasts the Ideal Butler. +The Sphinx is not so incommunicable. He is a mask with a manner. Of +his intellectual or emotional life, history knows nothing. He +represents the dominance of form. + +[Enter LORD GORING in evening dress with a buttonhole. He is wearing +a silk hat and Inverness cape. White-gloved, he carries a Louis +Seize cane. His are all the delicate fopperies of Fashion. One sees +that he stands in immediate relation to modern life, makes it indeed, +and so masters it. He is the first well-dressed philosopher in the +history of thought.] + +LORD GORING. Got my second buttonhole for me, Phipps? + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. [Takes his hat, cane, and cape, and presents +new buttonhole on salver.] + +LORD GORING. Rather distinguished thing, Phipps. I am the only +person of the smallest importance in London at present who wears a +buttonhole. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. I have observed that, + +LORD GORING. [Taking out old buttonhole.] You see, Phipps, Fashion +is what one wears oneself. What is unfashionable is what other +people wear. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. Just as vulgarity is simply the conduct of other +people. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. [Putting in a new buttonhole.] And falsehoods the +truths of other people. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. Other people are quite dreadful. The only possible +society is oneself. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance, +Phipps. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. [Looking at himself in the glass.] Don't think I quite +like this buttonhole, Phipps. Makes me look a little too old. Makes +me almost in the prime of life, eh, Phipps? + +PHIPPS. I don't observe any alteration in your lordship's +appearance. + +LORD GORING. You don't, Phipps? + +PHIPPS. No, my lord. + +LORD GORING. I am not quite sure. For the future a more trivial +buttonhole, Phipps, on Thursday evenings. + +PHIPPS. I will speak to the florist, my lord. She has had a loss in +her family lately, which perhaps accounts for the lack of triviality +your lordship complains of in the buttonhole. + +LORD GORING. Extraordinary thing about the lower classes in England +- they are always losing their relations. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord! They are extremely fortunate in that respect. + +LORD GORING. [Turns round and looks at him. PHIPPS remains +impassive.] Hum! Any letters, Phipps? + +PHIPPS. Three, my lord. [Hands letters on a salver.] + +LORD GORING. [Takes letters.] Want my cab round in twenty minutes. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. [Goes towards door.] + +LORD GORING. [Holds up letter in pink envelope.] Ahem! Phipps, +when did this letter arrive? + +PHIPPS. It was brought by hand just after your lordship went to the +club. + +LORD GORING. That will do. [Exit PHIPPS.] Lady Chiltern's +handwriting on Lady Chiltern's pink notepaper. That is rather +curious. I thought Robert was to write. Wonder what Lady Chiltern +has got to say to me? [Sits at bureau and opens letter, and reads +it.] 'I want you. I trust you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.' +[Puts down the letter with a puzzled look. Then takes it up, and +reads it again slowly.] 'I want you. I trust you. I am coming to +you.' So she has found out everything! Poor woman! Poor woman! [ +Pulls out watch and looks at it.] But what an hour to call! Ten +o'clock! I shall have to give up going to the Berkshires. However, +it is always nice to be expected, and not to arrive. I am not +expected at the Bachelors', so I shall certainly go there. Well, I +will make her stand by her husband. That is the only thing for her +to do. That is the only thing for any woman to do. It is the growth +of the moral sense in women that makes marriage such a hopeless, one- +sided institution. Ten o'clock. She should be here soon. I must +tell Phipps I am not in to any one else. [Goes towards bell] + +[Enter PHIPPS.] + +PHIPPS. Lord Caversham. + +LORD GORING. Oh, why will parents always appear at the wrong time? +Some extraordinary mistake in nature, I suppose. [Enter LORD +CAVERSHAM.] Delighted to see you, my dear father. [Goes to meet +him.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Take my cloak off. + +LORD GORING. Is it worth while, father? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Of course it is worth while, sir. Which is the most +comfortable chair? + +LORD GORING. This one, father. It is the chair I use myself, when I +have visitors. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Thank ye. No draught, I hope, in this room? + +LORD GORING. No, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [Sitting down.] Glad to hear it. Can't stand +draughts. No draughts at home. + +LORD GORING. Good many breezes, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Eh? Eh? Don't understand what you mean. Want to +have a serious conversation with you, sir. + +LORD GORING. My dear father! At this hour? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, it is only ten o'clock. What is your +objection to the hour? I think the hour is an admirable hour! + +LORD GORING. Well, the fact is, father, this is not my day for +talking seriously. I am very sorry, but it is not my day. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. What do you mean, sir? + +LORD GORING. During the Season, father, I only talk seriously on the +first Tuesday in every month, from four to seven. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, make it Tuesday, sir, make it Tuesday. + +LORD GORING. But it is after seven, father, and my doctor says I +must not have any serious conversation after seven. It makes me talk +in my sleep. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Talk in your sleep, sir? What does that matter? +You are not married. + +LORD GORING. No, father, I am not married. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Hum! That is what I have come to talk to you about, +sir. You have got to get married, and at once. Why, when I was your +age, sir, I had been an inconsolable widower for three months, and +was already paying my addresses to your admirable mother. Damme, +sir, it is your duty to get married. You can't be always living for +pleasure. Every man of position is married nowadays. Bachelors are +not fashionable any more. They are a damaged lot. Too much is known +about them. You must get a wife, sir. Look where your friend Robert +Chiltern has got to by probity, hard work, and a sensible marriage +with a good woman. Why don't you imitate him, sir? Why don't you +take him for your model? + +LORD GORING. I think I shall, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. I wish you would, sir. Then I should be happy. At +present I make your mother's life miserable on your account. You are +heartless, sir, quite heartless + +LORD GORING. I hope not, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. And it is high time for you to get married. You are +thirty-four years of age, sir. + +LORD GORING. Yes, father, but I only admit to thirty-two - thirty- +one and a half when I have a really good buttonhole. This buttonhole +is not . . . trivial enough. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. I tell you you are thirty-four, sir. And there is a +draught in your room, besides, which makes your conduct worse. Why +did you tell me there was no draught, sir? I feel a draught, sir, I +feel it distinctly. + +LORD GORING. So do I, father. It is a dreadful draught. I will +come and see you to-morrow, father. We can talk over anything you +like. Let me help you on with your cloak, father. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. No, sir; I have called this evening for a definite +purpose, and I am going to see it through at all costs to my health +or yours. Put down my cloak, sir. + +LORD GORING. Certainly, father. But let us go into another room. +[Rings bell.] There is a dreadful draught here. [Enter PHIPPS.] +Phipps, is there a good fire in the smoking-room? + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. Come in there, father. Your sneezes are quite +heartrending. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, I suppose I have a right to sneeze when I +choose? + +LORD GORING. [Apologetically.] Quite so, father. I was merely +expressing sympathy. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Oh, damn sympathy. There is a great deal too much +of that sort of thing going on nowadays. + +LORD GORING. I quite agree with you, father. If there was less +sympathy in the world there would be less trouble in the world. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [Going towards the smoking-room.] That is a +paradox, sir. I hate paradoxes. + +LORD GORING. So do I, father. Everybody one meets is a paradox +nowadays. It is a great bore. It makes society so obvious. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [Turning round, and looking at his son beneath his +bushy eyebrows.] Do you always really understand what you say, sir? + +LORD GORING. [After some hesitation.] Yes, father, if I listen +attentively. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [Indignantly.] If you listen attentively! . . . +Conceited young puppy! + +[Goes off grumbling into the smoking-room. PHIPPS enters.] + +LORD GORING. Phipps, there is a lady coming to see me this evening +on particular business. Show her into the drawing-room when she +arrives. You understand? + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. It is a matter of the gravest importance, Phipps. + +PHIPPS. I understand, my lord. + +LORD GORING. No one else is to be admitted, under any circumstances. + +PHIPPS. I understand, my lord. [Bell rings.] + +LORD GORING. Ah! that is probably the lady. I shall see her myself. + +[Just as he is going towards the door LORD CAVERSHAM enters from the +smoking-room.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir? am I to wait attendance on you? + +LORD GORING. [Considerably perplexed.] In a moment, father. Do +excuse me. [LORD CAVERSHAM goes back.] Well, remember my +instructions, Phipps - into that room. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +[LORD GORING goes into the smoking-room. HAROLD, the footman shows +MRS. CHEVELEY in. Lamia-like, she is in green and silver. She has +a cloak of black satin, lined with dead rose-leaf silk.] + +HAROLD. What name, madam? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [To PHIPPS, who advances towards her.] Is Lord +Goring not here? I was told he was at home? + +PHIPPS. His lordship is engaged at present with Lord Caversham, +madam. + +[Turns a cold, glassy eye on HAROLD, who at once retires.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [To herself.] How very filial! + +PHIPPS. His lordship told me to ask you, madam, to be kind enough to +wait in the drawing-room for him. His lordship will come to you +there. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [With a look of surprise.] Lord Goring expects me? + +PHIPPS. Yes, madam. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Are you quite sure? + +PHIPPS. His lordship told me that if a lady called I was to ask her +to wait in the drawing-room. [Goes to the door of the drawing-room +and opens it.] His lordship's directions on the subject were very +precise. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [To herself] How thoughtful of him! To expect the +unexpected shows a thoroughly modern intellect. [Goes towards the +drawing-room and looks in.] Ugh! How dreary a bachelor's drawing- +room always looks. I shall have to alter all this. [PHIPPS brings +the lamp from the writing-table.] No, I don't care for that lamp. +It is far too glaring. Light some candles. + +PHIPPS. [Replaces lamp.] Certainly, madam. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I hope the candles have very becoming shades. + +PHIPPS. We have had no complaints about them, madam, as yet. + +[Passes into the drawing-room and begins to light the candles.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [To herself.] I wonder what woman he is waiting for +to-night. It will be delightful to catch him. Men always look so +silly when they are caught. And they are always being caught. +[Looks about room and approaches the writing-table.] What a very +interesting room! What a very interesting picture! Wonder what his +correspondence is like. [Takes up letters.] Oh, what a very +uninteresting correspondence! Bills and cards, debts and dowagers! +Who on earth writes to him on pink paper? How silly to write on pink +paper! It looks like the beginning of a middle-class romance. +Romance should never begin with sentiment. It should begin with +science and end with a settlement. [Puts letter down, then takes it +up again.] I know that handwriting. That is Gertrude Chiltern's. I +remember it perfectly. The ten commandments in every stroke of the +pen, and the moral law all over the page. Wonder what Gertrude is +writing to him about? Something horrid about me, I suppose. How I +detest that woman! [Reads it.] 'I trust you. I want you. I am +coming to you. Gertrude.' 'I trust you. I want you. I am coming +to you.' + +[A look of triumph comes over her face. She is just about to steal +the letter, when PHIPPS comes in.] + +PHIPPS. The candles in the drawing-room are lit, madam, as you +directed. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. [Rises hastily and slips the letter under +a large silver-cased blotting-book that is lying on the table.] + +PHIPPS. I trust the shades will be to your liking, madam. They are +the most becoming we have. They are the same as his lordship uses +himself when he is dressing for dinner. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [With a smile.] Then I am sure they will be +perfectly right. + +PHIPPS. [Gravely.] Thank you, madam. + +[MRS. CHEVELEY goes into the drawing-room. PHIPPS closes the door +and retires. The door is then slowly opened, and MRS. CHEVELEY comes +out and creeps stealthily towards the writing-table. Suddenly voices +are heard from the smoking-room. MRS. CHEVELEY grows pale, and +stops. The voices grow louder, and she goes back into the drawing- +room, biting her lip.] + +[Enter LORD GORING and LORD CAVERSHAM.] + +LORD GORING. [Expostulating.] My dear father, if I am to get +married, surely you will allow me to choose the time, place, and +person? Particularly the person. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [Testily.] That is a matter for me, sir. You would +probably make a very poor choice. It is I who should be consulted, +not you. There is property at stake. It is not a matter for +affection. Affection comes later on in married life. + +LORD GORING. Yes. In married life affection comes when people +thoroughly dislike each other, father, doesn't it? [Puts on LORD +CAVERSHAM'S cloak for him.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Certainly, sir. I mean certainly not, air. You are +talking very foolishly to-night. What I say is that marriage is a +matter for common sense. + +LORD GORING. But women who have common sense are so curiously plain, +father, aren't they? Of course I only speak from hearsay. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. No woman, plain or pretty, has any common sense at +all, sir. Common sense is the privilege of our sex. + +LORD GORING. Quite so. And we men are so self-sacrificing that we +never use it, do we, father? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. I use it, sir. I use nothing else. + +LORD GORING. So my mother tells me. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. It is the secret of your mother's happiness. You +are very heartless, sir, very heartless. + +LORD GORING. I hope not, father. + +[Goes out for a moment. Then returns, looking rather put out, with +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My dear Arthur, what a piece of good luck +meeting you on the doorstep! Your servant had just told me you were +not at home. How extraordinary! + +LORD GORING. The fact is, I am horribly busy to-night, Robert, and I +gave orders I was not at home to any one. Even my father had a +comparatively cold reception. He complained of a draught the whole +time. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Ah! you must be at home to me, Arthur. You are +my best friend. Perhaps by to-morrow you will be my only friend. My +wife has discovered everything. + +LORD GORING. Ah! I guessed as much! + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Looking at him.] Really! How? + +LORD GORING. [After some hesitation.] Oh, merely by something in +the expression of your face as you came in. Who told her? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Mrs. Cheveley herself. And the woman I love +knows that I began my career with an act of low dishonesty, that I +built up my life upon sands of shame - that I sold, like a common +huckster, the secret that had been intrusted to me as a man of +honour. I thank heaven poor Lord Radley died without knowing that I +betrayed him. I would to God I had died before I had been so +horribly tempted, or had fallen so low. [Burying his face in his +hands.] + +LORD GORING. [After a pause.] You have heard nothing from Vienna +yet, in answer to your wire? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Looking up.] Yes; I got a telegram from the +first secretary at eight o'clock to-night. + +LORD GORING. Well? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Nothing is absolutely known against her. On +the contrary, she occupies a rather high position in society. It is +a sort of open secret that Baron Arnheim left her the greater portion +of his immense fortune. Beyond that I can learn nothing. + +LORD GORING. She doesn't turn out to be a spy, then? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh! spies are of no use nowadays. Their +profession is over. The newspapers do their work instead. + +LORD GORING. And thunderingly well they do it. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur, I am parched with thirst. May I ring +for something? Some hock and seltzer? + +LORD GORING. Certainly. Let me. [Rings the bell.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thanks! I don't know what to do, Arthur, I +don't know what to do, and you are my only friend. But what a friend +you are - the one friend I can trust. I can trust you absolutely, +can't I? + +[Enter PHIPPS.] + +LORD GORING. My dear Robert, of course. Oh! [To PHIPPS.] Bring +some hock and seltzer. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. And Phipps! + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. + +LORD GORING. Will you excuse me for a moment, Robert? I want to +give some directions to my servant. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Certainly. + +LORD GORING. When that lady calls, tell her that I am not expected +home this evening. Tell her that I have been suddenly called out of +town. You understand? + +PHIPPS. The lady is in that room, my lord. You told me to show her +into that room, my lord. + +LORD GORING. You did perfectly right. [Exit PHIPPS.] What a mess I +am in. No; I think I shall get through it. I'll give her a lecture +through the door. Awkward thing to manage, though. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur, tell me what I should do. My life +seems to have crumbled about me. I am a ship without a rudder in a +night without a star. + +LORD GORING. Robert, you love your wife, don't you? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I love her more than anything in the world. I +used to think ambition the great thing. It is not. Love is the +great thing in the world. There is nothing but love, and I love her. +But I am defamed in her eyes. I am ignoble in her eyes. There is a +wide gulf between us now. She has found me out, Arthur, she has +found me out. + +LORD GORING. Has she never in her life done some folly - some +indiscretion - that she should not forgive your sin? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My wife! Never! She does not know what +weakness or temptation is. I am of clay like other men. She stands +apart as good women do - pitiless in her perfection - cold and stern +and without mercy. But I love her, Arthur. We are childless, and I +have no one else to love, no one else to love me. Perhaps if God had +sent us children she might have been kinder to me. But God has given +us a lonely house. And she has cut my heart in two. Don't let us +talk of it. I was brutal to her this evening. But I suppose when +sinners talk to saints they are brutal always. I said to her things +that were hideously true, on my side, from my stand-point, from the +standpoint of men. But don't let us talk of that + +LORD GORING. Your wife will forgive you. Perhaps at this moment she +is forgiving you. She loves you, Robert. Why should she not +forgive? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. God grant it! God grant it! [Buries his face +in his hands.] But there is something more I have to tell you, +Arthur. + +[Enter PHIPPS with drinks.] + +PHIPPS. [Hands hock and seltzer to SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] Hock and +seltzer, sir. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thank you. + +LORD GORING. Is your carriage here, Robert? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. No; I walked from the club. + +LORD GORING. Sir Robert will take my cab, Phipps. + +PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. [Exit.] + +LORD GORING. Robert, you don't mind my sending you away? + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur, you must let me stay for five minutes. +I have made up my mind what I am going to do to-night in the House. +The debate on the Argentine Canal is to begin at eleven. [A chair +falls in the drawing-room.] What is that? + +LORD GORING. Nothing. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I heard a chair fall in the next room. Some +one has been listening. + +LORD GORING. No, no; there is no one there. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. There is some one. There are lights in the +room, and the door is ajar. Some one has been listening to every +secret of my life. Arthur, what does this mean? + +LORD GORING. Robert, you are excited, unnerved. I tell you there is +no one in that room. Sit down, Robert. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Do you give me your word that there is no one +there? + +LORD GORING. Yes. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Your word of honour? [Sits down.] + +LORD GORING. Yes. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Rises.] Arthur, let me see for myself. + +LORD GORING. No, no. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. If there is no one there why should I not look +in that room? Arthur, you must let me go into that room and satisfy +myself. Let me know that no eavesdropper has heard my life's secret. +Arthur, you don't realise what I am going through. + +LORD GORING. Robert, this must stop. I have told you that there is +no one in that room - that is enough. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Rushes to the door of the room.] It is not +enough. I insist on going into this room. You have told me there is +no one there, so what reason can you have for refusing me? + +LORD GORING. For God's sake, don't! There is some one there. Some +one whom you must not see. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Ah, I thought so! + +LORD GORING. I forbid you to enter that room. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Stand back. My life is at stake. And I don't +care who is there. I will know who it is to whom I have told my +secret and my shame. [Enters room.] + +LORD GORING. Great heavens! his own wife! + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN comes back, with a look of scorn and anger on +his face.] + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What explanation have you to give me for the +presence of that woman here? + +LORD GORING. Robert, I swear to you on my honour that that lady is +stainless and guiltless of all offence towards you. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. She is a vile, an infamous thing! + +LORD GORING. Don't say that, Robert! It was for your sake she came +here. It was to try and save you she came here. She loves you and +no one else. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You are mad. What have I to do with her +intrigues with you? Let her remain your mistress! You are well +suited to each other. She, corrupt and shameful - you, false as a +friend, treacherous as an enemy even - + +LORD GORING. It is not true, Robert. Before heaven, it is not true. +In her presence and in yours I will explain all. + +SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Let me pass, sir. You have lied enough upon +your word of honour. + +[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN goes out. LORD GORING rushes to the door of the +drawing-room, when MRS. CHEVELEY comes out, looking radiant and much +amused.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [With a mock curtsey] Good evening, Lord Goring! + +LORD GORING. Mrs. Cheveley! Great heavens! . . . May I ask what you +were doing in my drawing-room? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Merely listening. I have a perfect passion for +listening through keyholes. One always hears such wonderful things +through them. + +LORD GORING. Doesn't that sound rather like tempting Providence? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh! surely Providence can resist temptation by this +time. [Makes a sign to him to take her cloak off, which he does.] + +LORD GORING. I am glad you have called. I am going to give you some +good advice. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh! pray don't. One should never give a woman +anything that she can't wear in the evening. + +LORD GORING. I see you are quite as wilful as you used to be. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Far more! I have greatly improved. I have had more +experience. + +LORD GORING. Too much experience is a dangerous thing. Pray have a +cigarette. Half the pretty women in London smoke cigarettes. +Personally I prefer the other half. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. I never smoke. My dressmaker wouldn't like +it, and a woman's first duty in life is to her dressmaker, isn't it? +What the second duty is, no one has as yet discovered. + +LORD GORING. You have come here to sell me Robert Chiltern's letter, +haven't you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. To offer it to you on conditions. How did you guess +that? + +LORD GORING. Because you haven't mentioned the subject. Have you +got it with you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Sitting down.] Oh, no! A well-made dress has no +pockets. + +LORD GORING. What is your price for it? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. How absurdly English you are! The English think that +a cheque-book can solve every problem in life. Why, my dear Arthur, +I have very much more money than you have, and quite as much as +Robert Chiltern has got hold of. Money is not what I want. + +LORD GORING. What do you want then, Mrs. Cheveley? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Why don't you call me Laura? + +LORD GORING. I don't like the name. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You used to adore it. + +LORD GORING. Yes: that's why. [MRS. CHEVELEY motions to him to sit +down beside her. He smiles, and does so.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Arthur, you loved me once. + +LORD GORING. Yes. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. And you asked me to be your wife. + +LORD GORING. That was the natural result of my loving you. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. And you threw me over because you saw, or said you +saw, poor old Lord Mortlake trying to have a violent flirtation with +me in the conservatory at Tenby. + +LORD GORING. I am under the impression that my lawyer settled that +matter with you on certain terms . . . dictated by yourself. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. At that time I was poor; you were rich. + +LORD GORING. Quite so. That is why you pretended to love me. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Shrugging her shoulders.] Poor old Lord Mortlake, +who had only two topics of conversation, his gout and his wife! I +never could quite make out which of the two he was talking about. He +used the most horrible language about them both. Well, you were +silly, Arthur. Why, Lord Mortlake was never anything more to me +than an amusement. One of those utterly tedious amusements one only +finds at an English country house on an English country Sunday. I +don't think any one at all morally responsible for what he or she +does at an English country house. + +LORD GORING. Yes. I know lots of people think that. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I loved you, Arthur. + +LORD GORING. My dear Mrs. Cheveley, you have always been far too +clever to know anything about love. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I did love you. And you loved me. You know you +loved me; and love is a very wonderful thing. I suppose that when a +man has once loved a woman, he will do anything for her, except +continue to love her? [Puts her hand on his.] + +LORD GORING. [Taking his hand away quietly.] Yes: except that. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [After a pause.] I am tired of living abroad. I +want to come back to London. I want to have a charming house here. +I want to have a salon. If one could only teach the English how to +talk, and the Irish how to listen, society here would be quite +civilised. Besides, I have arrived at the romantic stage. When I +saw you last night at the Chilterns', I knew you were the only person +I had ever cared for, if I ever have cared for anybody, Arthur. And +so, on the morning of the day you marry me, I will give you Robert +Chiltern's letter. That is my offer. I will give it to you now, if +you promise to marry me. + +LORD GORING. Now? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Smiling.] To-morrow. + +LORD GORING. Are you really serious? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes, quite serious. + +LORD GORING. I should make you a very bad husband. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I don't mind bad husbands. I have had two. They +amused me immensely. + +LORD GORING. You mean that you amused yourself immensely, don't you? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. What do you know about my married life? + +LORD GORING. Nothing: but I can read it like a book. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. What book? + +LORD GORING. [Rising.] The Book of Numbers. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Do you think it is quite charming of you to be so +rude to a woman in your own house? + +LORD GORING. In the case of very fascinating women, sex is a +challenge, not a defence. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I suppose that is meant for a compliment. My dear +Arthur, women are never disarmed by compliments. Men always are. +That is the difference between the two sexes. + +LORD GORING. Women are never disarmed by anything, as far as I know +them. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [After a pause.] Then you are going to allow your +greatest friend, Robert Chiltern, to be ruined, rather than marry +some one who really has considerable attractions left. I thought you +would have risen to some great height of self-sacrifice, Arthur. I +think you should. And the rest of your life you could spend in +contemplating your own perfections. + +LORD GORING. Oh! I do that as it is. And self-sacrifice is a thing +that should be put down by law. It is so demoralising to the people +for whom one sacrifices oneself. They always go to the bad. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. As if anything could demoralise Robert Chiltern! You +seem to forget that I know his real character. + +LORD GORING. What you know about him is not his real character. It +was an act of folly done in his youth, dishonourable, I admit, +shameful, I admit, unworthy of him, I admit, and therefore . . . not +his true character. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. How you men stand up for each other! + +LORD GORING. How you women war against each other! + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Bitterly.] I only war against one woman, against +Gertrude Chiltern. I hate her. I hate her now more than ever. + +LORD GORING. Because you have brought a real tragedy into her life, +I suppose. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [With a sneer.] Oh, there is only one real tragedy +in a woman's life. The fact that her past is always her lover, and +her future invariably her husband. + +LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern knows nothing of the kind of life to +which you are alluding. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. A woman whose size in gloves is seven and three- +quarters never knows much about anything. You know Gertrude has +always worn seven and three-quarters? That is one of the reasons why +there was never any moral sympathy between us. . . . Well, Arthur, I +suppose this romantic interview may be regarded as at an end. You +admit it was romantic, don't you? For the privilege of being your +wife I was ready to surrender a great prize, the climax of my +diplomatic career. You decline. Very well. If Sir Robert doesn't +uphold my Argentine scheme, I expose him. VOILE TOUT. + +LORD GORING. You mustn't do that. It would be vile, horrible, +infamous. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Shrugging her shoulders.] Oh! don't use big words. +They mean so little. It is a commercial transaction. That is all. +There is no good mixing up sentimentality in it. I offered to sell +Robert Chiltern a certain thing. If he won't pay me my price, he +will have to pay the world a greater price. There is no more to be +said. I must go. Good-bye. Won't you shake hands? + +LORD GORING. With you? No. Your transaction with Robert Chiltern +may pass as a loathsome commercial transaction of a loathsome +commercial age; but you seem to have forgotten that you came here to- +night to talk of love, you whose lips desecrated the word love, you +to whom the thing is a book closely sealed, went this afternoon to +the house of one of the most noble and gentle women in the world to +degrade her husband in her eyes, to try and kill her love for him, to +put poison in her heart, and bitterness in her life, to break her +idol, and, it may be, spoil her soul. That I cannot forgive you. +That was horrible. For that there can be no forgiveness. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Arthur, you are unjust to me. Believe me, you are +quite unjust to me. I didn't go to taunt Gertrude at all. I had no +idea of doing anything of the kind when I entered. I called with +Lady Markby simply to ask whether an ornament, a jewel, that I lost +somewhere last night, had been found at the Chilterns'. If you don't +believe me, you can ask Lady Markby. She will tell you it is true. +The scene that occurred happened after Lady Markby had left, and was +really forced on me by Gertrude's rudeness and sneers. I called, oh! +- a little out of malice if you like - but really to ask if a diamond +brooch of mine had been found. That was the origin of the whole +thing. + +LORD GORING. A diamond snake-brooch with a ruby? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. How do you know? + +LORD GORING. Because it is found. In point of fact, I found it +myself, and stupidly forgot to tell the butler anything about it as I +was leaving. [Goes over to the writing-table and pulls out the +drawers.] It is in this drawer. No, that one. This is the brooch, +isn't it? [Holds up the brooch.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. I am so glad to get it back. It was . . a +present. + +LORD GORING. Won't you wear it? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Certainly, if you pin it in. [LORD GORING suddenly +clasps it on her arm.] Why do you put it on as a bracelet? I never +knew it could he worn as a bracelet. + +LORD GORING. Really? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Holding out her handsome arm.] No; but it looks +very well on me as a bracelet, doesn't it? + +LORD GORING. Yes; much better than when I saw it last. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. When did you see it last? + +LORD GORING. [Calmly.] Oh, ten years ago, on Lady Berkshire, from +whom you stole it. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Starting.] What do you mean? + +LORD GORING. I mean that you stole that ornament from my cousin, +Mary Berkshire, to whom I gave it when she was married. Suspicion +fell on a wretched servant, who was sent away in disgrace. I +recognised it last night. I determined to say nothing about it till +I had found the thief. I have found the thief now, and I have heard +her own confession. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Tossing her head.] It is not true. + +LORD GORING. You know it is true. Why, thief is written across your +face at this moment. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I will deny the whole affair from beginning to end. +I will say that I have never seen this wretched thing, that it was +never in my possession. + +[MRS. CHEVELEY tries to get the bracelet off her arm, but fails. +LORD GORING looks on amused. Her thin fingers tear at the jewel to +no purpose. A curse breaks from her.] + +LORD GORING. The drawback of stealing a thing, Mrs. Cheveley, is +that one never knows how wonderful the thing that one steals is. You +can't get that bracelet off, unless you know where the spring is. +And I see you don't know where the spring is. It is rather difficult +to find. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. You brute! You coward! [She tries again to unclasp +the bracelet, but fails.] + +LORD GORING. Oh! don't use big words. They mean so little. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Again tears at the bracelet in a paroxysm of rage, +with inarticulate sounds. Then stops, and looks at LORD GORING.] +What are you going to do? + +LORD GORING. I am going to ring for my servant. He is an admirable +servant. Always comes in the moment one rings for him. When he +comes I will tell him to fetch the police. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Trembling.] The police? What for? + +LORD GORING. To-morrow the Berkshires will prosecute you. That is +what the police are for. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Is now in an agony of physical terror. Her face is +distorted. Her mouth awry. A mask has fallen from her. She it, for +the moment, dreadful to look at.] Don't do that. I will do anything +you want. Anything in the world you want. + +LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern's letter. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Stop! Stop! Let me have time to think. + +LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern's letter. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I have not got it with me. I will give it to you to- +morrow. + +LORD GORING. You know you are lying. Give it to me at once. [MRS. +CHEVELEY pulls the letter out, and hands it to him. She is horribly +pale.] This is it? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [In a hoarse voice.] Yes. + +LORD GORING. [Takes the letter, examines it, sighs, and burns it +with the lamp.] For so well-dressed a woman, Mrs. Cheveley, you have +moments of admirable common sense. I congratulate you. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Catches sight of LADY CHILTERN'S letter, the cover +of which is just showing from under the blotting-book.] Please get +me a glass of water. + +LORD GORING. Certainly. [Goes to the corner of the room and pours +out a glass of water. While his back is turned MRS. CHEVELEY steals +LADY CHILTERN'S letter. When LORD GORING returns the glass she +refuses it with a gesture.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. Will you help me on with my cloak? + +LORD GORING. With pleasure. [Puts her cloak on.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. I am never going to try to harm Robert +Chiltern again. + +LORD GORING. Fortunately you have not the chance, Mrs. Cheveley. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Well, if even I had the chance, I wouldn't. On the +contrary, I am going to render him a great service. + +LORD GORING. I am charmed to hear it. It is a reformation. + +MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. I can't bear so upright a gentleman, so +honourable an English gentleman, being so shamefully deceived, and so +- + +LORD GORING. Well? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. I find that somehow Gertrude Chiltern's dying speech +and confession has strayed into my pocket. + +LORD GORING. What do you mean? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [With a bitter note of triumph in her voice.] I mean +that I am going to send Robert Chiltern the love-letter his wife +wrote to you to-night. + +LORD GORING. Love-letter? + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [Laughing.] 'I want you. I trust you. I am coming +to you. Gertrude.' + +[LORD GORING rushes to the bureau and takes up the envelope, finds is +empty, and turns round.] + +LORD GORING. You wretched woman, must you always be thieving? Give +me back that letter. I'll take it from you by force. You shall not +leave my room till I have got it. + +[He rushes towards her, but MRS. CHEVELEY at once puts her hand on +the electric bell that is on the table. The bell sounds with shrill +reverberations, and PHIPPS enters.] + +MRS. CHEVELEY. [After a pause.] Lord Goring merely rang that you +should show me out. Good-night, Lord Goring! + +[Goes out followed by PHIPPS. Her face it illumined with evil +triumph. There is joy in her eyes. Youth seems to have come back to +her. Her last glance is like a swift arrow. LORD GORING bites his +lip, and lights his a cigarette.] + +ACT DROPS + + + +FOURTH ACT + + + +SCENE + +Same as Act II. + +[LORD GORING is standing by the fireplace with his hands in his +pockets. He is looking rather bored.] + +LORD GORING. [Pulls out his watch, inspects it, and rings the bell.] +It is a great nuisance. I can't find any one in this house to talk +to. And I am full of interesting information. I feel like the +latest edition of something or other. + +[Enter servant.] + +JAMES. Sir Robert is still at the Foreign Office, my lord. + +LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern not down yet? + +JAMES. Her ladyship has not yet left her room. Miss Chiltern has +just come in from riding. + +LORD GORING. [To himself.] Ah! that is something. + +JAMES. Lord Caversham has been waiting some time in the library for +Sir Robert. I told him your lordship was here. + +LORD GORING. Thank you! Would you kindly tell him I've gone? + +JAMES. [Bowing.] I shall do so, my lord. + +[Exit servant.] + +LORD GORING. Really, I don't want to meet my father three days +running. It is a great deal too much excitement for any son. I hope +to goodness he won't come up. Fathers should be neither seen nor +heard. That is the only proper basin for family life. Mothers are +different. Mothers are darlings. [Throws himself down into a chair, +picks up a paper and begins to read it.] + + [Enter LORD CAVERSHAM.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, what are you doing here? Wasting your +time as usual, I suppose? + +LORD GORING. [Throws down paper and rises.] My dear father, when +one pays a visit it is for the purpose of wasting other people's +time, not one's own. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Have you been thinking over what I spoke to you +about last night? + +LORD GORING. I have been thinking about nothing else. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Engaged to be married yet? + +LORD GORING. [Genially.] Not yet: but I hope to be before lunch- +time. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. [Caustically.] You can have till dinner-time if it +would be of any convenience to you. + +LORD GORING. Thanks awfully, but I think I'd sooner be engaged +before lunch. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Humph! Never know when you are serious or not. + +LORD GORING. Neither do I, father. + +[A pause.] + +LORD CAVERSHAM. I suppose you have read THE TIMES this morning? + +LORD GORING. [Airily.] THE TIMES? Certainly not. I only read THE +MORNING POST. All that one should know about modern life is where +the Duchesses are; anything else is quite demoralising. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Do you mean to say you have not read THE TIMES +leading article on Robert Chiltern's career? + +LORD GORING. Good heavens! No. What does it say? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. What should it say, sir? Everything complimentary, +of course. Chiltern's speech last night on this Argentine Canal +scheme was one of the finest pieces of oratory ever delivered in the +House since Canning. + +LORD GORING. Ah! Never heard of Canning. Never wanted to. And did +. . . did Chiltern uphold the scheme? + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Uphold it, sir? How little you know him! Why, he +denounced it roundly, and the whole system of modern political +finance. This speech is the turning-point in his career, as THE +TIMES points out. You should read this article, sir. [Opens THE +TIMES.] 'Sir Robert Chiltern . . . most rising of our young +statesmen . . . Brilliant orator . . . Unblemished career . . . Well- +known integrity of character . . . Represents what is best in English +public life . . . Noble contrast to the lax morality so common among +foreign politicians.' They will never say that of you, sir. + +LORD GORING. I sincerely hope not, father. However, I am delighted +at what you tell me about Robert, thoroughly delighted. It shows he +has got pluck. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. He has got more than pluck, sir, he has got genius. + +LORD GORING. Ah! I prefer pluck. It is not so common, nowadays, as +genius is. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. I wish you would go into Parliament. + +LORD GORING. My dear father, only people who look dull ever get into +the House of Commons, and only people who are dull ever succeed +there. + +LORD CAVERSHAM. Why don't you try to do something useful in life? + +LORD GORING. I am far too young. + +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 Minster'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. Every +one 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 any one +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. Montford, 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 recognise 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 Montford 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 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 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 taking such +. . . Will you kindly do that, Lady Chiltern? + +LADY CHILTERN. I think my husband in 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 out 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 here 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 out 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 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 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. Wish I could say the same for you, sir. [To LORD +GORING.] 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 in 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 + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of An Ideal Husband, by Oscar Wilde + diff --git a/old/ihsbn10.zip b/old/ihsbn10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..69caa75 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ihsbn10.zip |