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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 + |