An Ideal Husband The Scenes of the Play Act 1 The Octagon Room in Sir Robert Chiltern:’s house in Grosvenor Square Act 2 Morning-room in Sir Robert Chiltern:’s house Act 3 The Library of Lord Goring:’s house in Curzon Street Act 4 Same as Act 2 Time The Present Place London The action of the play is completed within twenty-four hours. First Act Scene: The Octagon room at Sir Robert Chiltern:’s house in Grosvenor Square. The room is brilliantly lighted and full of guests [including the Viconte de Nanjac, the Duchess of Maryborough, and Mabel Chiltern]. 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. [Mason: stands in the background]. 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 well. On the right is the entrance to the music-room. The sound of a string quartet 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’ tonight, Olivia? Lady Basildon: I suppose so. Are you?
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An Ideal Husband The Scenes of the Play The Octagon Room ... Wilde - An... · Over the well of the staircase hangs a great chandelier with wax ... On the right is the entrance to
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Theroomisbrilliantlylightedandfullofguests[includingtheVicontedeNanjac,the Duchess of Maryborough, and Mabel Chiltern]. At the top of the staircasestandsLadyChiltern,awomanofgraveGreekbeauty,abouttwenty-sevenyearsof age. She receives the guests as they come up. [Mason: stands in thebackground]. Over the well of the staircase hangs a great chandelier with waxlights, which illumine a large eighteenth- century French tapestry—representingtheTriumphofLove,fromadesignbyBoucher—thatisstretchedonthestaircasewell.Ontherightistheentrancetothemusic-room.Thesoundofastringquartetis faintly heard. The entrance on the left leads to other reception-rooms. MrsMarchmont:andLadyBasildon,twoveryprettywomen,areseatedtogetheronaLouisSeizesofa.Theyaretypesofexquisitefragility.Theiraffectationofmannerhasadelicatecharm.Watteauwouldhavelovedtopaintthem.
Lady Basildon: Horribly tedious! Never know why I go. Never know why I goanywhere.
MrsMarchmont:Icomeheretobeeducated.
LadyBasildon:Ah!Ihatebeingeducated!
Mrs Marchmont: So do I. It puts one almost on a level with the commercialclasses,doesn’t it?ButdearGertrudeChiltern isalwaystellingmethat Ishouldhavesomeseriouspurposeinlife.SoIcomeheretotrytofindone.
Lady Basildon: (looking round through her lorgnette) I don’t see anybody heretonightwhomonecouldpossiblycallaseriouspurpose.Themanwhotookmeintodinnertalkedtomeabouthiswifethewholetime.
They rise and go towards the music-room. The Vicomte De Nanjac, a youngattachéknownforhisnecktiesandhisAnglomania,approacheswitha lowbow,andentersintoconversation
Mason: (announcing guests from the top of the staircase) Mr and Lady JaneBarford.LordCaversham.
Mabel Chiltern: (coming up to Lord Caversham)Why do you call Lord Goring:good-for-nothing?
MabelChiltern: isaperfectexampleof theEnglishtypeofprettiness,theapple-blossomtype.Shehasall thefragranceandfreedomofaflower.Thereisrippleafter ripple of sunlight in her hair, and the little mouth, with its parted lips, isexpectant,likethemouthofachild.Shehasthefascinatingtyrannyofyouth,andtheastonishingcourageof innocence.Tosanepeopleshe isnot reminiscentofanywork of art. But she is really like aTanagra statuette, andwould be rather
annoyedifsheweretoldso
LordCaversham:Becauseheleadssuchanidlelife.
MabelChiltern:Howcanyousaysuchathing?Why,heridesintheRowatteno’clockinthemorning,goestotheOperathreetimesaweek,changeshisclothesat least fivetimesaday,anddinesouteverynightof theseason.Youdon’tcallthatleadinganidlelife,doyou?
Lord Caversham: Never go anywhere now. Sick of London Society. Shouldn’tmind being introduced tomy own tailor; he always votes on the right side.Butobjectstrongly tobeingsentdowntodinnerwithmywife’smilliner.NevercouldstandLadyCaversham’sbonnets.
Mabel Chiltern: (with a little curtsey) I hope to let you know very soon, LordCaversham!
Mason:(announcingguests)LadyMarkby.MrsCheveley.
EnterLadyMarkby:andMrsCheveley.LadyMarkby:isapleasant,kindly,popularwoman, with grey hair à la marquise and good lace. Mrs Cheveley, whoaccompaniesher,istallandratherslight.Lipsverythinandhighly-coloured,alineofscarletonapallidface.Venetianredhair,aquilinenose,andlongthroat.Rougeaccentuatesthenaturalpalenessofhercomplexion.Grey-greeneyesthatmoverestlessly.Sheisinheliotrope,withdiamonds.Shelooksratherlikeanorchid,andmakesgreatdemandsonone’scuriosity. Inallhermovementsshe isextremelygraceful. A work of art, on the whole, but showing the influence of too manyschools
LadyMarkby:Goodevening, dearGertrude!So kindof you to letmebringmyfriend,MrsCheveley:Twosuchcharmingwomenshouldknoweachother!
Lady Chiltern: (advances toward Mrs Cheveley: with a sweet smile. Thensuddenlystops,andbowsratherdistantly) I thinkMrsCheveley:andIhavemet
before.Ididnotknowshehadmarriedasecondtime.
LadyMarkby: (genially)Ah,nowadayspeoplemarryasoftenas theycan,don’tthey? It ismost fashionable. (ToDuchess ofMaryborough)DearDuchess, andhowistheDuke?Brainstillweak,Isuppose?Well,thatisonlytobeexpected,isitnot?Hisgoodfatherwasjustthesame.Thereisnothinglikerace,isthere?
Mrs Cheveley: (playing with her fan) But have we really met before, LadyChiltern?Ican’trememberwhere.IhavebeenoutofEnglandforsolong.
MrsCheveley:(inhersweetestmanner)Doyouknow,Iamquitelookingforwardtomeetingyourcleverhusband,LadyChiltern.SincehehasbeenattheForeignOffice, he has been so much talked of in Vienna. They actually succeed inspellinghisnamerightinthenewspapers.Thatinitselfisfame,onthecontinent.
Vicomte de Nanjac: Yes, they have a wonderful language. It should be morewidelyknown.
SirRobertChiltern:enters.Amanofforty,butlookingsomewhatyounger.Clean-shaven, with finely- cut features, dark-haired and dark-eyed. A personality ofmark.Notpopular—fewpersonalitiesare.But intenselyadmiredbythefew,anddeeply respected by the many. The note of his manner is that of perfectdistinction, with a slight touch of pride. One feels that he is conscious of thesuccesshehasmadeinlife.Anervoustemperament,withatiredlook.Thefirmly-chiselledmouth and chin contrast strikinglywith the romantic expression in thedeep-set eyes.The variance is suggestive of analmost complete separationof
passion and intellect, as though thought and emotionwere each isolated in itsown sphere through some violence of will-power. There is nervousness in thenostrils, and in the pale, thin, pointedhands. Itwould be inaccurate to call himpicturesque. Picturesqueness cannot survive the House of Commons. ButVandyckwouldhavelikedtohavepaintedhishead
SirRobertChiltern:Good evening, LadyMarkby! I hope you have broughtSirJohnwithyou?
LadyMarkby:Oh!IhavebroughtamuchmorecharmingpersonthanSirJohn.SirJohn’s temper since he has taken seriously to politics has become quiteunbearable.Really,nowthattheHouseofCommonsistryingtobecomeuseful,itdoesagreatdealofharm.
SirRobertChiltern:Ihopenot,LadyMarkby.Atanyratewedoourbesttowastethepublic time,don’twe?Butwho is thischarmingpersonyouhavebeenkindenoughtobringtous?
LadyMarkby: Her name isMrsCheveley.One of theDorsetshireCheveleys, Isuppose.ButIreallydon’tknow.Familiesaresomixednowadays.Indeed,asarule,everybodyturnsouttobesomebodyelse.
Sir Robert Chiltern: If there is not, the Ambassador will certainly have to berecalled.PraypointoutMrsCheveley:tome.Ishouldliketoseeher.
Lady Markby: Let me introduce you. (To Mrs Cheveley) My dear, Sir RobertChiltern:isdyingtoknowyou!
Sir Robert Chiltern: (bowing) Every one is dying to know the brilliant MrsCheveley.OurattachésatViennawritetousaboutnothingelse.
Mrs Cheveley: Thank you, Sir Robert. An acquaintance that begins with acomplimentissuretodevelopintoarealfriendship.Itstartsintherightmanner.AndIfindthatIknowLadyChiltern:already.
SirRobertChiltern:Really?
MrsCheveley:Yes.Shehasjustremindedmethatwewereatschooltogether.Iremember it perfectly now. She always got the good conduct prize. I have adistinctrecollectionofLadyChiltern:alwaysgettingthegoodconductprize!
Sir Robert Chiltern: What an appalling philosophy that sounds! To attempt toclassifyyou,MrsCheveley,wouldbeanimpertinence.ButmayIask,atheart,areyou an optimist or a pessimist? Those seem to be the only two fashionablereligionslefttousnowadays.
Mrs Cheveley: Politics are my only pleasure. You see nowadays it is notfashionabletoflirttilloneisforty,ortoberomantictilloneisforty-five,sowepoorwomenwhoareunderthirty,orsayweare,havenothingopentousbutpoliticsorphilanthropy.Andphilanthropyseemstometohavebecomesimplytherefugeofpeoplewhowishtoannoytheirfellow-creatures.Ipreferpolitics.Ithinktheyaremore…becoming!
SirRobertChiltern:Apoliticallifeisanoblecareer!
MrsCheveley:Sometimes.Andsometimes it isaclevergame,SirRobert.Andsometimesitisagreatnuisance.
MrsCheveley:Oh! I don’t careabout theLondon season! It is toomatrimonial.People are either hunting for husbands, or hiding from them. Iwanted tomeetyou.It isquitetrue.Youknowwhatawoman’scuriosityis.Almostasgreatasaman’s! Iwanted immensely tomeet you, and… toask you todo something forme.
Sir Robert Chiltern: I hope it is not a little thing,Mrs Cheveley. I find that littlethingsaresoverydifficulttodo.
Mrs Cheveley:: Later on. (Rises) And now may I walk through your beautifulhouse?Ihearyourpicturesarecharming.PoorBaronArnheim—youremembertheBaron?—usedtotellmeyouhadsomewonderfulCorots.
Sir Robert Chiltern: (with an almost imperceptible start) Did you know BaronArnheimwell?
Lord Goring: (in his most serious manner) Of course. You see, it is a verydangerous thing to listen. Ifone listensonemaybeconvinced;andamanwhoallows himself to be convinced by an argument is a thoroughly unreasonableperson.
Lady Basildon: Ah! that accounts for so much in men that I have neverunderstood,andsomuchinwomenthattheirhusbandsneverappreciateinthem!
Mrs Marchmont: That is exactly what we can’t stand. My Reginald is quitehopelessly faultless. He is really unendurably so, at times! There is not thesmallestelementofexcitementinknowinghim.
MabelChiltern:Why are you talking aboutMrsCheveley?Everybody is talkingaboutMrsCheveley!LordGoringsays—whatdidyousay,LordGoring,aboutMrsCheveley?Oh!Iremember,thatshewasageniusinthedaytimeandabeautyatnight.
TheVicomtedeNanjac:entersfromthemusic-roomwith[MrMontfordand]someother guests. After having carefully examined all the people present, heapproachesLadyBasildon:
Vicomte de Nanjac: May I have the honour of taking you down to supper,Comtesse?
MrsCheveley:Oh,no!Ican’tstandyourEnglishhouse-parties.InEnglandpeopleactuallytrytobebrilliantatbreakfast.Thatissodreadfulofthem!Onlydullpeopleare brilliant at breakfast. And then the family skeleton is always reading familyprayers.MystayinEnglandreallydependsonyou,SirRobert.(Sitsdownonthesofa)
MrsCheveley:Quite seriously. I want to talk to you about a great political andfinancialscheme,aboutthisArgentineCanalCompany,infact.
SirRobertChiltern:What a tedious, practical subject for you to talk about,MrsCheveley!
MrsCheveley:Oh,Iliketedious,practicalsubjects.WhatIdon’tlikearetedious,practicalpeople.Thereisawidedifference.Besides,youareinterested,Iknow,inInternational Canal schemes. You were Lord Radley’s secretary, weren’t you,whentheGovernmentboughttheSuezCanalshares?
Sir Robert Chiltern: Yes. But the Suez Canal was a very great and splendidundertaking. It gave us our direct route to India. It had imperial value. It wasnecessarythatweshouldhavecontrol.ThisArgentineschemeisacommonplaceStockExchangeswindle.
SirRobertChiltern:Believeme,MrsCheveley,itisaswindle.Letuscallthingsbytheirpropernames.Itmakesmatterssimpler.Wehavealltheinformationaboutitat theForeignOffice. Infact, IsentoutaspecialCommissionto inquire intothematterprivately,andtheyreport that theworksarehardlybegun,andasfor themoneyalready subscribed, noone seems to knowwhat hasbecomeof it. ThewholethingisasecondPanama,andwithnotaquarterofthechanceofsuccessthatmiserableaffaireverhad. Ihopeyouhavenot invested in it. Iamsureyouarefartooclevertohavedonethat.
SirRobertChiltern: I fearIhavenoadvicetogiveyou,MrsCheveley,excepttointerestyourselfinsomethinglessdangerous.ThesuccessoftheCanaldepends,of course, on the attitude of England, and I am going to lay the report of theCommissionersbeforetheHousetomorrownight.
MrsCheveley: That youmust not do. In your own interests, Sir Robert, to saynothingofmine,youmustnotdothat.
MrsCheveley:SirRobert,Iwillbequitefrankwithyou.IwantyoutowithdrawthereportthatyouhadintendedtolaybeforetheHouse,onthegroundthatyouhavereasonstobelievethattheCommissionershavebeenprejudicedormisinformed,or something. Then I want you to say a few words to the effect that theGovernment is going to reconsider the question, and that you have reason tobelievethattheCanal,ifcompleted,willbeofgreatinternationalvalue.Youknowthesortofthingsministerssayincasesofthiskind.Afewordinaryplatitudeswilldo.Inmodernlifenothingproducessuchaneffectasagoodplatitude.Itmakesthewholeworldkin.Willyoudothatforme?
Mrs Cheveley: (leaning back on the sofa and looking at him) How verydisappointing!AndIhavecomeallthewayfromViennainorderthatyoushouldthoroughlyunderstandme.
SirRobertChiltern:IfearIdon’t.
MrsCheveley: (in hermost nonchalantmanner)MydearSirRobert, youare amanoftheworld,andyouhaveyourprice,Isuppose.Everybodyhasnowadays.The drawback is thatmost people are so dreadfully expensive. I know I am. Ihopeyouwillbemorereasonableinyourterms.
MrsCheveley: (risingand facinghim) Imean that Iknow the realoriginofyourwealthandyourcareer,andIhavegotyourletter,too.
SirRobertChiltern:Whatletter?
MrsCheveley:(contemptuously)TheletteryouwrotetoBaronArnheim,whenyouwere Lord Radley’s secretary, telling the Baron to buy Suez Canal shares—aletterwrittenthreedaysbeforetheGovernmentannounceditsownpurchase.
Sir Robert Chiltern: The affair to which you allude was no more than aspeculation.TheHouseofCommonshadnot yet passed thebill; itmight havebeenrejected.
Mrs Cheveley: It was a swindle, Sir Robert. Let us call things by their propernames. Itmakeseverythingsimpler.Andnow I amgoing to sell you that letter,andthepriceIaskforitisyourpublicsupportoftheArgentinescheme.Youmadeyourownfortuneoutofonecanal.Youmusthelpmeandmyfriendstomakeourfortunesoutofanother!
Mrs Cheveley: My dear Sir Robert, what then? You are ruined, that is all!Remember towhat a point yourPuritanism inEngland has brought you. In olddaysnobodypretendedtobeabitbetterthanhisneighbours.Infact,tobeabitbetterthanone’sneighbourwasconsideredexcessivelyvulgarandmiddleclass.Nowadays, with our modern mania for morality, everyone has to pose as aparagon of purity, incorruptibility, and all the other seven deadly virtues— and
what is theresult?Youallgoover likeninepins—oneafter theother.NotayearpassesinEnglandwithoutsomebodydisappearing.Scandalsusedtolendcharm,or at least interest, to aman—now they crush him. And yours is a very nastyscandal.Youcouldn’tsurviveit.Ifitwereknownthatasayoungman,secretarytoa great and important minister, you sold a Cabinet secret for a large sum ofmoney, and that that was the origin of your wealth and career, you would behounded out of public life, you would disappear completely. And after all, SirRobert,whyshouldyousacrificeyourentirefutureratherthandealdiplomaticallywithyourenemy?For themoment Iamyourenemy. Iadmit it!And Iammuchstronger than you are. The big battalions are onmy side.You have a splendidposition,but it isyoursplendidposition thatmakesyousovulnerable.Youcan’tdefendit!AndIaminattack.OfcourseIhavenottalkedmoralitytoyou.Youmustadmit in fairness that I have spared you that. Years ago you did a clever,unscrupulousthing;itturnedoutagreatsuccess.Youowetoityourfortuneandposition.Andnowyouhavegottopayforit.Soonerorlaterweallhavetopayforwhatwedo.Youhave to paynow.Before I leave you tonight, youhavegot topromisemetosuppressyourreport,andtospeakintheHouseinfavourofthisscheme.
SirRobertChiltern:Whatyouaskisimpossible.
MrsCheveley:Youmustmakeitpossible.Youaregoingtomakeitpossible.SirRobert, youknowwhat yourEnglishnewspapersare like.Suppose thatwhen Ileave this house I drive down to some newspaper office, and give them thisscandalandtheproofsofit!Thinkoftheirloathsomejoy,ofthedelighttheywouldhaveindraggingyoudown,ofthemudandmiretheywouldplungeyouin.Thinkof thehypocritewithhisgreasysmilepenninghis leadingarticle,andarrangingthefoulnessofthepublicplacard.
suitable, compliment I can think of. I intend to play quite fairly with you. Oneshouldalwaysplayfairly…whenonehasthewinningcards.TheBarontaughtmethat…amongstotherthings.
Sir Robert Chiltern: Don’t go. I consent. The report shall be withdrawn. I willarrangeforaquestiontobeputtomeonthesubject.
MrsCheveley:Thankyou. Iknewweshouldcometoanamicableagreement. Iunderstoodyournature from the first. Ianalysedyou, thoughyoudidnotadoreme.Andnowyoucangetmycarriageforme,SirRobert.Iseethepeoplecomingupfromsupper,andEnglishmenalwaysgetromanticafterameal,andthatboresmedreadfully.
Lady Markby: He has had a very interesting and brilliant career. And he hasmarried a most admirable wife. Lady Chiltern: is a woman of the very highestprinciples, I am glad to say. I am a little too old now, myself, to trouble aboutsettingagoodexample,but Ialwaysadmirepeoplewhodo.AndLadyChiltern:has a very ennobling effect on life, though her dinner-parties are rather dullsometimes.But one can’t haveeverything, canone?Andnow Imust go, dear.ShallIcallforyoutomorrow?
LadyMarkby:Perhapsthepeoplearealittlejaded.IhaveoftenobservedthattheSeasonasitgoesonproducesakindofsofteningofthebrain.However,I thinkanything is better than high intellectual pressure. That is themost unbecomingthing there is. It makes the noses of the young girls so particularly large. And
there isnothingsodifficult tomarryasa largenose;mendon’t like them.Goodnight,dear!(ToLadyChiltern)Goodnight,Gertrude!
MrsCheveley:Oh,Iwilltellyou.IwantedtointeresthiminthisArgentineCanalscheme,ofwhichIdaresayyouhaveheard.AndIfoundhimmostsusceptible,—susceptible to reason, I mean. A rare thing in a man. I converted him in tenminutes.HeisgoingtomakeaspeechintheHousetomorrownightinfavourofthe idea. We must go to the Ladies’ Gallery and hear him! It will be a greatoccasion!
MrsCheveley:Oh,don’tbesosolemnabout it,or I shallbeobliged to leaveacard on you. In England I suppose that would hardly be considered en règle.Abroad,wearemorecivilized.Willyouseemedown,SirRobert?Nowthatwehaveboththesameinterestsatheartweshallbegreatfriends,Ihope!
Sails out on Sir Robert Chiltern:’s arm. Lady Chiltern: goes to the top of thestaircaseand looksdownat themas theydescend.Herexpression is troubled.Afteralittletimesheisjoinedbysomeoftheguests,andpasseswiththemintoanotherreception-room
MabelChiltern:Whatahorridwoman!
LordGoring:Youshouldgotobed,MissMabel.
MabelChiltern:LordGoring!
Lord Goring: My father told me to go to bed an hour ago. I don’t see why I
MabelChiltern:LordGoring,youarealwaysorderingmeoutoftheroom.Ithinkitmost courageous of you.Especially as I amnot going to bed for hours. (Goesovertothesofa)Youcancomeandsitdownifyoulike,andtalkaboutanythingintheworld,excepttheRoyalAcademy,MrsCheveley,ornovelsinScotchdialect.Theyarenotimprovingsubjects.(Catchessightofsomethingthatislyingonthesofahalfhiddenbythecushion)Whatisthis?Someonehasdroppedadiamondbrooch!Quitebeautiful,isn’tit?(Showsittohim.)Iwishitwasmine,butGertrudewon’t letmewearanythingbutpearls,and Iam thoroughlysickofpearls.Theymakeone looksoplain,sogoodandso intellectual. Iwonderwhomthebroochbelongsto.
LordGoring:Iwonderwhodroppedit.
MabelChiltern:Itisabeautifulbrooch.
LordGoring:Itisahandsomebracelet.
MabelChiltern:Itisn’tabracelet.It’sabrooch.
LordGoring:Itcanbeusedasabracelet.
Takesitfromher,andpullingoutagreenletter-case,putstheornamentcarefullyin it, and replaces the whole thing in his breast-pocket with the most perfectsangfroid
Lord Goring: (is a little taken aback, but recovers himself) Don’t mention toanybodythatIhavetakenchargeofthisbrooch.Shouldanyonewriteandclaimit,letmeknowatonce.
LordGoring:AfraidIcan’t,thanks.IhavepromisedtolookinattheHartlocks’.Ibelieve they have got a mauve Hungarian band that plays mauve Hungarianmusic.Seeyousoon.Good-bye!
LadyChiltern: Thatwomanwho has just gone out,MrsCheveley, as she callsherself now. She seemed to tauntme with it. Robert, I know this woman. Youdon’t.Wewereatschooltogether.Shewasuntruthful,dishonest,anevilinfluenceoneveryonewhosetrustorfriendshipshecouldwin.Ihated,Idespisedher.Shestolethings,shewasathief.Shewassentawayforbeingathief.Whydoyouletherinfluenceyou?
LadyChiltern:Itisatruesaying,Robert.Andwhatdidshemeanbyboastingthatshe had got you to lend your support, your name, to a thing I have heard youdescribe as themost dishonest and fraudulent scheme there has ever been inpoliticallife?
SirRobertChiltern: (bitinghis lip) Iwasmistaken in theviewI took.Weallmaymakemistakes.
SirRobertChiltern:(walkingupanddown)IhavereasonsnowtobelievethattheCommission was prejudiced, or, at any rate, misinformed. Besides, Gertrude,publicandprivatelifearedifferentthings.Theyhavedifferentlaws,andmoveondifferentlines.
Lady Chiltern: Robert! Oh! it is horrible that I should have to ask you such aquestion—Robert,areyoutellingmethewholetruth?
SirRobertChiltern:Whydoyouaskmesuchaquestion?
[Apause]
LadyChiltern:Whydoyounotanswerit?
Sir Robert Chiltern: (sitting down) Gertrude, truth is a very complex thing, andpoliticsisaverycomplexbusiness.Therearewheelswithinwheels.Onemaybeundercertainobligationstopeoplethatonemustpay.Soonerorlater inpoliticallifeonehastocompromise.Everyonedoes.
LadyChiltern:Robert, that is all verywell for othermen, formenwho treat lifesimply as a sordid speculation; but not for you, Robert, not for you. You aredifferent.All your life youhavestoodapart fromothers.Youhavenever let theworldsoilyou.Totheworld,astomyself,youhavebeenanidealalways.Oh!bethat idealstill.Thatgreat inheritance thrownotaway—that towerof ivorydonotdestroy.Robert,mencan lovewhat isbeneath them—thingsunworthy, stained,dishonoured.Wewomenworshipwhenwelove;andwhenweloseourworship,weloseeverything.Oh!don’tkillmyloveforyou,don’tkillthat!
SirRobertChiltern:Gertrude!
LadyChiltern:Iknowthattherearemenwithhorriblesecretsintheirlives—menwhohavedonesomeshameful thing,andwho insomecriticalmomenthave topayfor it,bydoingsomeotheractofshame—oh!don’t tellmeyouaresuchastheyare!Robert, is there inyour lifeanysecretdishonourordisgrace?Tellme,tellmeatonce,that—
SirRobertChiltern:Gertrude, there isnothing inmypast life thatyoumightnotknow.
LadyChiltern:Iwassureofit,Robert,Iwassureofit.Butwhydidyousaythosedreadful things, things so unlike your real self?Don’t let us ever talk about thesubject again. Youwill write, won’t you, toMrs Cheveley, and tell her that youcannot support this scandalous scheme of hers? If you have given her anypromiseyoumusttakeitback,thatisall!
LadyChiltern:Youmustnever seeheragain,Robert.She isnot awomanyoushouldeverspeakto.She isnotworthy to talk toaman likeyou.No;youmustwrite to her at once, now, this moment, and let your letter show her that yourdecisionisquiteirrevocable!
LadyChiltern:Thatmakesnomatter.Shemustknowatoncethatshehasbeenmistakeninyou—andthatyouarenotamantodoanythingbaseorunderhandordishonourable.Writehere,Robert.Writethatyoudeclinetosupportthisschemeofhers,asyouholdittobeadishonestscheme.Yes—writetheworddishonest.She knowswhat that wordmeans (Sir Robert Chiltern: sits down andwrites aletter.Hiswifetakesitupandreadsit)Yes;thatwilldo.(Ringsbell)Andnowtheenvelope.(Hewritestheenvelopeslowly)
ExitMason. LadyChiltern kneels downbeside her husbandand puts her armsroundhim.
Robert,lovegivesoneasortofinstincttothings.IfeeltonightthatIhavesavedyoufromsomething thatmighthavebeenadanger toyou, fromsomething thatmight havemademen honour you less than they do. I don’t think you realizesufficiently,Robert,thatyouhavebroughtintothepoliticallifeofourtimeanobleratmosphere,afinerattitudetowardslife,afreerairofpureraimsandhigherideals-Iknowit,andforthatIloveyou,Robert.
TheServantputsout the lights.The roombecomesalmostdark.Theonly lightthere is comes from the great chandelier that hangs over the staircase andilluminesthetapestryoftheTriumphofLove.
SecondAct
Scene:Morning-roomatSirRobertChiltern’shouse.LordGoring,dressedintheheightof fashion, is lounging inanarmchair. SirRobertChiltern: isstanding infront of the fireplace.He is evidently in a state of greatmental excitement anddistress.Asthesceneprogresseshepacesnervouslyupanddowntheroom
LordGoring:MydearRobert,it’saveryawkwardbusiness,veryawkwardindeed.Youshouldhavetoldyourwifethewholething.Secretsfromotherpeople’swivesareanecessaryluxuryinmodernlife.So,atleast,Iamalwaystoldattheclubbypeoplewhoare bald enough to knowbetter. But noman should have a secret
fromhisownwife.She invariably finds it out.Womenhaveawonderful instinctaboutthings.Theycandiscovereverythingexcepttheobvious.
LordGoring: (takingoff his left-handglove)Whatapity! I begyourpardon,mydearfellow,Ididn’tquitemeanthat.Butifwhatyoutellmeistrue,IshouldliketohaveaserioustalkaboutlifewithLadyChiltern.
LordGoring:Everythingisdangerous,mydearfellow.Ifitwasn’tso,lifewouldn’tbeworth living…Well, I ambound to say that I think you shouldhave toldheryearsago.
Sir Robert Chiltern:When?When we were engaged? Do you think she wouldhavemarriedmeifshehadknownthattheoriginofmyfortuneissuchasitis,thebasisofmycareersuchasitis,andthatIhaddoneathingthatIsupposemostmenwouldcallshamefulanddishonourable?
LordGoring: (tapping his bootwith his cane) And public scandal invariably theresult.
SirRobertChiltern:(pacingupanddowntheroom)Arthur,doyouthinkthatwhatIdidnearlyeighteenyearsagoshouldbebroughtupagainstmenow?Doyouthink it fair thataman’swholecareershouldberuined fora faultdone inone’sboyhoodalmost?Iwastwenty-twoatthetime,andIhadthedoublemisfortuneofbeingwell-bornandpoor,twounforgivablethingsnowadays.Isitfairthatthefolly,thesinofone’syouth,ifmenchoosetocallitasin,shouldwreckalifelikemine,shouldplacemein thepillory,shouldshatterall that Ihaveworkedfor,all that Ihavebuiltup?Isitfair,Arthur?
SirRobertChiltern:Everymanof ambitionhas to fight his centurywith its ownweapons.Whatthiscenturyworshipsiswealth.Thegodofthiscenturyiswealth.Tosucceedonemusthavewealth.Atallcostsonemusthavewealth.
Sir Robert Chiltern:When I was old, perhaps.When I had lostmy passion forpower,orcouldnotuseit.WhenIwastired,wornout,disappointed.IwantedmysuccesswhenIwasyoung.Youthisthetimeforsuccess.Icouldn’twait.
Sir Robert Chiltern: (throws himself into an armchair by the writing-table) Onenight after dinner at Lord Radley’s the Baron began talking about success inmodernlifeassomethingthatonecouldreducetoanabsolutelydefinitescience.Withthatwonderfullyfascinatingquietvoiceofhisheexpoundedtousthemostterrible of all philosophies, the philosophy of power, preached to us the mostmarvellousofall
gospels,thegospelofgold.Ithinkhesawtheeffecthehadproducedonme,forsome days afterwards he wrote and askedme to come and see him. He wasliving then inParkLane, in thehouseLordWoolcombhasnow. I remembersowell how, with a strange smile on his pale, curved lips, he ledme through hiswonderfulpicturegallery,showedmehis tapestries,hisenamels,his jewels,hiscarved ivories,mademewonderat thestrange lovelinessof the luxury inwhichhe lived;and then toldme that luxurywasnothingbutabackground,apaintedsceneinaplay,andthatpower,poweroverothermen,powerovertheworld,wastheonethingworthhaving,theonesupremepleasureworthknowing,theonejoyonenevertiredof,andthatinourcenturyonlytherichpossessedit.
Lord Goring: Fortunately for them, if one is to judge by results. But tell medefinitely,howdidtheBaronfinallypersuadeyouto-well,todowhatyoudid?
SirRobertChiltern:WhenIwasgoingawayhesaidtomethatifIevercouldgivehimanyprivate informationof real valuehewouldmakemeavery richman. Iwasdazedattheprospectheheldouttome,andmyambitionandmydesireforpower were at that time boundless. Six weeks later certain private documentspassedthroughmyhands.
SirRobertChiltern:Weak?Oh,Iamsickofhearingthatphrase.Sickofusingitaboutothers.Weak?Doyoureallythink,Arthur,thatitisweaknessthatyieldstotemptation? I tellyou that thereare terrible temptations that it requiresstrength,strengthandcourage,toyieldto.Tostakeallone’slifeonasinglemoment,toriskeverything on one throw,whether the stake be power or pleasure, I care not—there is noweakness in that. There is a horrible, a terrible courage. I had that
SirRobertChiltern:No; thatmoneygavemeexactlywhat Iwanted,poweroverothers.IwentintotheHouseimmediately.TheBaronadvisedmeinfinancefromtime to time. Before five years I had almost trebled my fortune. Since theneverythingthatIhavetouchedhasturnedoutasuccess.Inallthingsconnectedwithmoney I havehada lucksoextraordinary that sometimes it hasmademealmost afraid. I remember having read somewhere, in some strange book, thatwhenthegodswishtopunishustheyanswerourprayers.
SirRobertChiltern:Idon’tsaythatIsufferedanyremorse.Ididn’t.Notremorseinthe ordinary, rather silly sense of theword. But I have paid consciencemoneymany times. I had a wild hope that I might disarm destiny. The sum BaronArnheimgavemeIhavedistributedtwiceoverinpubliccharitiessincethen.
LordGoring: (looking up) In public charities?Dearme!what a lot of harm youmusthavedone,Robert!
LordGoring:(leaningbackwithhishandsinhispockets)Well, theEnglishcan’tstandamanwho isalwayssayinghe is in theright,but theyarevery fondofa
manwho admits that he has been in thewrong. It is one of the best things inthem.However, inyourcase,Robert,aconfessionwouldnotdo.Themoney, ifyouwillallowmetosayso,is…awkward.Besides,ifyoudidmakeacleanbreastofthewholeaffair,youwouldneverbeabletotalkmoralityagain.AndinEnglandamanwhocan’ttalkmoralitytwiceaweektoalarge,popular,immoralaudienceis quite over as a serious politician. There would be nothing left for him as aprofession except Botany or the Church. A confession would be of no use. Itwouldruinyou.
SirRobertChiltern: Icouldn’tdo it. Itwouldkillher love forme.Andnowaboutthiswoman,thisMrsCheveley.HowcanIdefendmyselfagainsther?Youknewherbefore,Arthur,apparently.
LordGoring:Yes.
SirRobertChiltern:Didyouknowherwell?
LordGoring: (arranginghisnecktie)So little that Igotengagedtobemarried toheronce,when Iwas stayingat theTenbys’.Theaffair lasted for threedays…nearly.
SirRobertChiltern:Whywasitbrokenoff?
LordGoring: (airily)Oh, I forget.At least, itmakesnomatter.By theway,haveyoutriedherwithmoney?Sheusedtobeconfoundedlyfondofmoney.
LordGoring: Then themarvellous gospel of gold breaks down sometimes. Therichcan’tdoeverything,afterall.
Sir Robert Chiltern: Not everything. I suppose you are right. Arthur, I feel thatpublicdisgraceisinstoreforme.Ifeelcertainofit.Ineverknewwhatterrorwasbefore.Iknowitnow.Itisasifahandoficewerelaiduponone’sheart.Itisasifone’sheartwerebeatingitselftodeathinsomeemptyhollow.
Lord Goring: I can’t tell you how at present. I have not the smallest idea. Buteveryone has someweak point. There is some flaw in each one of us. (Strollsovertothefireplaceandlooksathimselfintheglass)Myfathertellsmethateven
Ihavefaults.PerhapsIhave.Idon’tknow.
SirRobertChiltern: IndefendingmyselfagainstMrsCheveley, Ihavea right touseanyweaponIcanfind,haveInot?
SirRobertChiltern: (sitsdownat the tableand takesapen inhishand)Well, Ishall send a cipher telegram to the Embassy at Vienna, to inquire if there isanything known against her. Theremay be some secret scandal shemight beafraidof.
LordGoring:(settlinghisbuttonhole)Oh,IshouldfancyMrsCheveley: isoneofthoseverymodernwomenofourtimewhofindanewscandalasbecomingasanewbonnet,andairthembothintheParkeveryafternoonatfive-thirty.Iamsuresheadoresscandals,and that thesorrowofher lifeatpresent is thatshecan’tmanagetohaveenoughofthem.
LordGoring: It is alwaysworthwhileaskingaquestion, though it is not alwaysworthwhileansweringone.
EnterMason:
SirRobertChiltern:IsMrTraffordinhisroom?
Mason:Yes,SirRobert.
Sir Robert Chiltern: (putswhat he haswritten into an envelope, which he thencarefullycloses)Tellhimtohavethissentoffincipheratonce.Theremustnotbeamoment’sdelay.
belittle lefttofightfor.Well,assoonasIhearfromVienna,Ishall letyouknowtheresult.Itisachance,justachance,butIbelieveinit.AndasIfoughttheagewith its ownweapons, I will fight herwith herweapons. It is only fair, and shelookslikeawomanwithapast,doesn’tshe?
LordGoring:Mostprettywomendo.Butthereisafashioninpastsjustasthereisafashioninfrocks.PerhapsMrsCheveley:’spastismerelyaslightdécolletéone,and theyareexcessivelypopularnowadays.Besides,mydearRobert, I shouldnot build too high hopes on frightening Mrs Cheveley. I should not fancy MrsCheveley: isawomanwhowouldbeeasily frightened.Shehassurvivedallhercreditors,andsheshowswonderfulpresenceofmind.
LadyChiltern:Oh!dull,useful,delightfulthings,FactoryActs,FemaleInspectors,theEightHours’Bill, theParliamentaryFranchise…Everything, in fact, thatyouwouldfindthoroughlyuninteresting.
SirRobertChiltern:IwouldtoGodthatIhadbeenabletotell thetruth…tolivethe truth. Ah! that is the great thing in life, to live the truth. (Sighs, and goestowardsthedoor)I’llseeyousoonagain,Arthur,shan’tI?
LordGoring:Certainly.Wheneveryou like. I’mgoingto look inat theBachelors’Ball tonight, unless I find something better to do. But I’ll come round tomorrowmorning. If you should want me tonight by any chance, send round a note toCurzonStreet.
LadyChiltern:(toLordGoring)Dositdown.Iamsogladyouhavecalled.Iwantto talk to you about… well, not about bonnets, or the Woman’s LiberalAssociation. You take far too much interest in the first subject, and not nearlyenoughinthesecond.
LadyChiltern:Tohavekeptitwouldhavebeenthefirststainonacareerthathasbeenstainlessalways.Robertmustbeabovereproach.Heisnotlikeothermen.He cannot afford to do what other men do. (She looks at Lord Goring, whoremains silent)Don’t youagreewithme?YouareRobert’s greatest friend.Youareourgreatestfriend,LordGoring.Noone,exceptmyself,knowsRobertbetterthanyoudo.Hehasnosecretsfromme,andIdon’tthinkhehasanyfromyou.
LordGoring:OfwhichIknownothingbyexperience,thoughIknowsomethingbyobservation.I thinkthat inpractical lifethereissomethingaboutsuccess,actualsuccess, that is a little unscrupulous, something about ambition that isunscrupulous always. Once a man has set his heart and soul on getting to acertainpoint, ifhehastoclimbthecrag,heclimbsthecrag;ifhehastowalkinthemire—
Lady Chiltern: (gravely) I hope so. Why do you look at me so strangely, LordGoring?
LordGoring:LadyChiltern, Ihavesometimes thought that…perhapsyouarealittle hard in some of your views on life. I think that… often you don’t makesufficientallowances. Ineverynature thereareelementsofweakness,orworsethanweakness.Supposing,forinstance,that—thatanypublicman,myfather,orLord Merton, or Robert, say, had, years ago, written some foolish letter tosomeone…
LadyChiltern:Whatdoyoumeanbyafoolishletter?
LordGoring:A letter gravely compromising one’s position. I amonly putting animaginarycase.
andnotGermanphilosophy, that is the trueexplanationof thisworld,whatevermaybetheexplanationofthenext.Andifyouareeverintrouble,LadyChiltern,trustmeabsolutely,andIwillhelpyou ineverywayIcan. Ifyoueverwantme,cometomeformyassistance,andyoushallhaveit.Comeatoncetome.
Lady Chiltern: (looking at him in surprise) Lord Goring, you are talking quiteseriously.Idon’tthinkIeverheardyoutalkseriouslybefore.
MabelChiltern: DearGertrude, don’t say such a dreadful thing to LordGoring.Seriousness would be very unbecoming to him. Good afternoon, Lord Goring!Praybeastrivialasyoucan.
LordGoring: I should like to,MissMabel, but I amafraid I am…a littleoutofpracticethismorning;andbesides,Ihavetobegoingnow.
MabelChiltern:(withalittlemoueofdisappointment)Iwishyouwerenotgoing.Ihave had four wonderful adventures thismorning; four and a half, in fact. Youmightstopandlistentosomeofthem.
LadyChiltern:WhathaspoorMrTrafforddone this time?Robertsayshe is thebestsecretaryhehaseverhad.
Mabel Chiltern: Well, Tommy has proposed to me again. Tommy really doesnothingbutproposetome.Heproposedtomelastnightinthemusic-room,whenIwasquiteunprotected,astherewasanelaboratetriogoingon.Ididn’tdaretomakethesmallestrepartee,Ineedhardlytellyou.IfIhad,itwouldhavestoppedthemusic at once.Musical people are so absurdly unreasonable. They alwayswant one to be perfectly dumb at the verymoment when one is longing to beabsolutelydeaf.Thenheproposedtomeinbroaddaylightthismorning,infrontofthatdreadfulstatueofAchilles.Really,thethingsthatgooninfrontofthatworkofartarequiteappalling.Thepoliceshouldinterfere.AtluncheonIsawbytheglareinhiseyethathewasgoingtoproposeagain,andIjustmanagedtocheckhimintime by assuring him that I was a bimetallist. Fortunately I don’t know whatbimetallism means. And I don’t believe anybody else does either. But theobservationcrushedTommyfortenminutes.Helookedquiteshocked.AndthenTommy issoannoying in thewayheproposes. Ifheproposedat the topofhisvoice,Ishouldnotmindsomuch.Thatmightproducesomeeffectonthepublic.Buthedoesitinahorridconfidentialway.WhenTommywantstoberomantichetalks to one just like a doctor. I am very fond of Tommy, but his methods ofproposingarequiteoutofdate.Iwish,Gertrude,youwouldspeaktohim,andtell
him that once aweek is quite often enough to propose to any one, and that itshouldalwaysbedoneinamannerthatattractssomeattention.
MabelChiltern: I know,dear. Youmarriedamanwitha future,didn’t you?ButthenRobertwasagenius,andyouhaveanoble,self-sacrificingcharacter.Youcan stand geniuses. I have no character at all, andRobert is the only genius Icould ever bear. As a rule, I think they are quite impossible. Geniuses talk somuch, don’t they? Such a bad habit! And they are always thinking aboutthemselves,whenIwantthemtobethinkingaboutme.ImustgoroundnowandrehearseatLadyBasildon:’s.Yourememberwearehavingtableaux,don’tyou?TheTriumphofsomething,Idon’tknowwhat!Ihopeitwillbetriumphofme.OnlytriumphIamreallyinterestedinatpresent.(KissesLadyChiltern:andgoesout;thencomesrunningback)Oh,Gertrude,doyouknowwhoiscomingtoseeyou?ThatdreadfulMrsCheveley,inamostlovelygown.Didyouaskher?
MabelChiltern:Butitisforanexcellentcharity:inaidoftheUndeserving,theonlypeople I am really interested in. I am the secretary, and Tommy Trafford istreasurer.
MrsCheveley:AndwhatisLordGoring?
MabelChiltern:Oh!LordGoring:ispresident.
Mrs Cheveley: The post should suit him admirably, unless he has deterioratedsinceIknewhimfirst.
LadyMarkby:Ah!mydear,youneednotbenervous.Youwillalwaysbeasprettyaspossible.That is thebest fashion there is,and theonly fashion thatEnglandsucceedsinsetting.
Mrs Cheveley: Oh, pray don’t trouble, Lady Chiltern. I dare say I lost it at theOpera,beforewecameonhere.
LadyMarkby:Ahyes,IsupposeitmusthavebeenattheOpera.Thefactis,weallscrambleandjostlesomuchnowadaysthatIwonderwehaveanythingatallleftonusat theendofanevening. Iknowmyself that,whenIamcomingbackfromtheDrawingRoom,IalwaysfeelasifIhadn’tashredonme,exceptasmallshred of decent reputation, just enough to prevent the lower classes making
painful observations through the windows of the carriage. The fact is that ourSociety is terribly over-populated. Really, someone should arrange a properschemeofassistedemigration.Itwoulddoagreatdealofgood.
MrsCheveley: Iquiteagreewithyou,LadyMarkby. It isnearlysixyearssinceIhave been in London for the Season, and I must say Society has becomedreadfullymixed.Oneseestheoddestpeopleeverywhere.
LadyMarkby:Well, Imustsay it ismostannoying to loseanything. I rememberonce at Bath, years ago, losing in the Pump Room an exceedingly handsomecameobracelet thatSir Johnhadgivenme. Idon’t thinkhehasevergivenmeanythingsince, Iamsorry tosay.Hehassadlydegenerated.Really, thishorridHouseofCommonsquiteruinsourhusbandsforus.IthinktheLowerHousebyfarthegreatestblowtoahappymarriedlifethattherehasbeensincethatterriblethingcalledtheHigherEducationofWomenwasinvented.
Lady Markby: They do, dear. But I am afraid such a scheme would be quiteunpractical.Idon’tthinkmanhasmuchcapacityfordevelopment.Hehasgotasfarashecan,andthatisnotfar,isit?Withregardtowomen,well,dearGertrude,
youbelongtotheyoungergeneration,andIamsureitisallrightifyouapproveofit.Inmytime,ofcourse,weweretaughtnottounderstandanything.Thatwastheold system, andwonderfully interesting itwas. I assure you that the amount ofthings I and my poor dear sister were taught not to understand was quiteextraordinary.Butmodernwomenunderstandeverything,Iamtold.
MrsCheveley:Except theirhusbands.That is theone thing themodernwomanneverunderstands.
LadyMarkby:Andaverygoodthingtoo,dear,Idaresay.Itmightbreakupmanya happy home if they did. Not yours, I need hardly say, Gertrude. You havemarriedapatternhusband. Iwish Icouldsayasmuch formyself.ButsinceSirJohnhastakentoattendingthedebatesregularly,whichheneverusedtodointhegoodolddays,hislanguagehasbecomequiteimpossible.Healwaysseemsto think that he is addressing the House, and consequently whenever hediscussesthestateoftheagriculturallabourer,ortheWelshChurch,orsomethingquiteimproperofthatkind,Iamobligedtosendalltheservantsoutoftheroom.Itisnotpleasanttoseeone’sownbutler,whohasbeenwithonefortwenty-threeyears,actuallyblushingatthesideboard,andthefootmenmakingcontortionsincorners likepersons incircuses. Iassureyoumy lifewillbequite ruinedunlesstheysendJohnatoncetotheUpperHouse.Hewon’ttakeanyinterestinpoliticsthen,willhe?TheHouseofLordsissosensible.Anassemblyofgentlemen.Butin his present state, Sir John is really a great trial. Why, this morning beforebreakfast was half over, he stood up on the hearthrug, put his hands in hispockets, and appealed to the country at the top of his voice. I left the table assoonasIhadmysecondcupoftea,Ineedhardlysay.Buthisviolentlanguagecouldbeheardalloverthehouse!Itrust,Gertrude,thatSirRobertisnotlikethat?
LadyChiltern:But I amverymuch interested in politics, LadyMarkby. I love tohearRoberttalkaboutthem.
LadyMarkby:Well, Ihopehe isnotasdevoted toBlueBooksasSirJohn is. Idon’tthinktheycanbequiteimprovingreadingforanyone.
Mrs Cheveley: (languidly) I have never read a Blue Book. I prefer books… inyellowcovers.
Thebutlerenters, followedby the footman.Tea issetonasmall tableclose toLadyChiltern:
LadyChiltern:MayIgiveyousometea,MrsCheveley?
MrsCheveley:Thanks.
ThebutlerhandsMrsCheveley:acupofteaonasalver
LadyChiltern:Sometea,LadyMarkby?
LadyMarkby:Nothanks,dear.
Theservantsgoout.
The fact is, I have promised to go round for ten minutes to see poor LadyBrancaster,whoisinverygreattrouble.Herdaughter,quiteawell-brought-upgirl,too,hasactuallybecomeengaged tobemarried toacurate inShropshire. It isverysad,verysad indeed. Ican’tunderstand thismodernmania forcurates. Inmytimewegirlssawthem,ofcourse,runningabouttheplacelikerabbits.Butwenever took any notice of them, I need hardly say.But I am told that nowadayscountry society is quite honeycombedwith them. I think itmost irreligious.Andthen theeldest sonhasquarrelledwithhis father, and it is said thatwhen theymeetattheclubLordBrancasteralwayshideshimselfbehindthemoneyarticleinTheTimes.However,IbelievethatisquiteacommonoccurrencenowadaysandthattheyhavetotakeinextracopiesofTheTimesatalltheclubsinStJames’sStreet;therearesomanysonswhowon’thaveanythingtodowiththeirfathers,andsomanyfatherswhowon’tspeaktotheirsons.Ithink,myself,itisverymuchtoberegretted.
Lady Chiltern: Just slightly. She was staying at Langton last autumn, whenwewerethere.
LadyMarkby:Well,likeallstoutwomen,shelookstheverypictureofhappiness,asnodoubtyounoticed.Buttherearemanytragediesinherfamily,besidesthisaffairof thecurate.Herownsister,MrsJekyll,hadamostunhappylife; throughnofaultofherown,Iamsorrytosay.Sheultimatelywassobroken-heartedthatshewentintoaconvent,orontotheoperaticstage,Iforgetwhich.No;Ithinkitwas decorative art-needlework she took up. I know she had lost all sense ofpleasureinlife.(Rising)Andnow,Gertrude,ifyouwillallowme,IshallleaveMrsCheveley:inyourchargeandcallbackforherinaquarterofanhour.Orperhaps,dearMrsCheveley,youwouldn’tmindwaitinginthecarriagewhileIamwithLadyBrancaster.AsIintendittobeavisitofcondolence,Ishan’tstaylong.
MrsCheveley:How very kind of you, LadyChiltern!Believeme, nothingwouldgivemegreaterpleasure.
LadyMarkby:Ah!nodoubtyoubothhavemanypleasantreminiscencesofyourschooldays to talk over together. Good-bye, dear Gertrude! Shall I see you atLadyBonar’s tonight?Shehasdiscoveredawonderfulnewgenius.Hedoes…nothingatall,Ibelieve.Thatisagreatcomfort,isitnot?
LadyChiltern:Robertand Iarediningathomebyourselves tonight,and Idon’tthink I shall go anywhere afterwards. Robert, of course, will have to be in theHouse.Butthereisnothinginterestingon.
LadyMarkby:Diningathomebyyourselves?Is thatquiteprudent?Ah, I forgot,your husband is an exception. Mine is the general rule, and nothing ages awomansorapidlyashavingmarriedthegeneralrule.
ExitLadyMarkby:
MrsCheveley:Wonderfulwoman,LadyMarkby, isn’tshe?TalksmoreandsayslessthananybodyIevermet.Sheismadetobeapublicspeaker.Muchmoresothan her husband, though he is a typical Englishman, always dull and usuallyviolent.
LadyChiltern:(makesnoanswer,butremainsstanding.There isapause.Thenthe eyes of the two women meet. Lady Chiltern: looks stern and pale. MrsCheveley:seemsratheramused)MrsCheveley,Ithinkit isrighttotellyouquitefranklythat,hadIknownwhoyoureallywere,Ishouldnothaveinvitedyoutomyhouselastnight.
MrsCheveley:(withanimpertinentsmile)Really?
LadyChiltern:Icouldnothavedoneso.
Mrs Cheveley: I see that after all these years you have not changed a bit,Gertrude.
Lady Chiltern: It has taught me that a person who has once been guilty of adishonestanddishonourableactionmaybeguiltyofitasecondtime,andshouldbeshunned.
Lady Chiltern: You see now, I am sure, that for many reasons any furtheracquaintancebetweenusduringyourstayinLondonisquiteimpossible?
MrsCheveley: (leaning back in her chair)Do you know,Gertrude, I don’tmindyourtalkingmoralityabit.Moralityissimplytheattitudeweadopttowardspeoplewhomwepersonallydislike.Youdislikeme.Iamquiteawareofthat.AndIhavealwaysdetestedyou.AndyetIhavecomeheretodoyouaservice.
Lady Chiltern: (contemptuously) Like the service you wished to render myhusbandlastnight,Isuppose.Thankheaven,Isavedhimfromthat.
MrsCheveley:(startingtoher feet) Itwasyouwhomadehimwrite that insolentlettertome?Itwasyouwhomadehimbreakhispromise?
LadyChiltern:Yes.
MrsCheveley:Thenyoumustmakehimkeepit.Igiveyoutilltomorrowmorning—nomore. Ifby that timeyourhusbanddoesnotsolemnlybindhimself tohelpmeinthisgreatschemeinwhichIaminterested—
LadyChiltern:Thisfradulentspeculation—
MrsCheveley:Call itwhatyouchoose. Iholdyourhusband in thehollowofmyhand,andifyouarewiseyouwillmakehimdowhatItellhim.
MrsCheveley:(withabitterlaugh)Inthisworldlikemeetswithlike.Itisbecauseyour husband is himself fradulent and dishonest that we pair so well together.Betweenyouandhimtherearechasms.HeandIarecloserthanfriends.Weareenemieslinkedtogether.Thesamesinbindsus.
Lady Chiltern: How dare you class my husband with yourself? How dare youthreatenhimorme?Leavemyhouse.Youareunfittoenterit.
MrsCheveley:Myworst?Ihavenotyetfinishedwithyou,witheitherofyou.Igiveyouboth till tomorrowatnoon. Ifby thenyoudon’tdowhat Ibidyou todo, thewholeworldshallknowtheoriginofRobertChiltern.
Lady Chiltern: You sold a Cabinet secret for money! You began your life withfraud!Youbuiltupyourcareerondishonour!Oh,tellmeitisnottrue!Lietome!Lietome!Tellmeitisnottrue!
SirRobertChiltern:What thiswomansaid is quite true.But,Gertrude, listen tome.Youdon’trealizehowIwastempted.Letmetellyouthewholething.(Goestowardsher)
LadyChiltern:Don’tcomenearme.Don’ttouchme.Ifeelasifyouhadsoiledmefor ever. Oh! what a mask you have been wearing all these years! A horriblepaintedmask!Yousoldyourselfformoney.Oh!acommonthiefwerebetter.Youputyourselfuptosaletothehighestbidder!Youwereboughtinthemarket.Youlietothewholeworld.Andyetyouwillnotlietome.
LadyChiltern:(thrustinghimbackwithoutstretchedhands)No,don’tspeak!Saynothing!Yourvoicewakesterriblememories—memoriesofthingsthatmademelove you—memories ofwords thatmademe love you—memories that nowarehorribletome.AndhowIworshippedyou!Youweretomesomethingapartfromcommonlife,athingpure,noble,honest,withoutstain.Theworldseemedtomefinerbecauseyouwereinit,andgoodnessmorerealbecauseyoulived.Andnow—oh,whenIthinkthatImadeofamanlikeyoumyideal!theidealofmylife!
lives,savelovelesslives,trueLoveshouldpardon.Aman’sloveislikethat.It iswider, larger,more human than awoman’s.Women think that they aremakingidealsofmen.Whattheyaremakingofusarefalseidolsmerely.Youmadeyourfalseidolofme,andIhadnotthecouragetocomedown,showyoumywounds,tellyoumyweaknesses.IwasafraidthatImightloseyourlove,asIhavelostitnow.Andso,lastnightyouruinedmylifeforme—yes,ruinedit!Whatthiswomanasked of me was nothing compared to what she offered to me. She offeredsecurity,peace,stability.Thesinofmyyouth,thatIhadthoughtwasburied,roseupinfrontofme,hideous,horrible,withitshandsatmythroat.Icouldhavekilleditforever,sentitbackintoitstomb,destroyeditsrecord,burnedtheonewitnessagainstme.Youpreventedme.Noonebut you, you know it.Andnowwhat isthere before me but public disgrace, ruin, terrible shame, the mockery of theworld,alonelydishonouredlife,alonelydishonoureddeath,itmaybe,someday?Letwomenmakenomoreidealsofmen!letthemnotputthemonaltarsandbowbeforethem,ortheymayruinotherlivesascompletelyasyou—youwhomIhavesowildlyloved—haveruinedmine!
He passes from the room. LadyChiltern: rushes towards him, but the door isclosedwhenshereaches it.Palewithanguish,bewildered,helpless,sheswayslikeaplant inthewater.Herhands,outstretched,seemtotrembleintheair likeblossomsinthewind.Thensheflingsherselfdownbesideasofaandburiesherface.Hersobsarelikethesobsofachild
ThirdAct
Scene:TheLibrary inLordGoring:’shouse.AnAdamroom.On the right is thedoor leading into the hall. On the left, the door of the smoking-room. A pair offoldingdoorsatthebackopenintothedrawing-room.Thefireislit.Phipps,theButler, is arranging some newspapers on the writing-table. The distinction ofPhippsishisimpassivity.HehasbeentermedbyenthusiaststheIdealButler.TheSphinxisnotsoincommunicable.Heisamaskwithamanner.Ofhisintellectualoremotionallife,historyknowsnothing.Herepresentsthedominanceofform.
EnterLordGoring: ineveningdresswithabuttonhole.He iswearingasilkhatandInvernesscape.White-gloved,hecarriesaLouisSeizecane.Hisareallthedelicate fopperiesofFashion.Onesees thathestands in immediate relation tomodern life, makes it indeed, and so masters it. He is the first well-dressedphilosopherinthehistoryofthought
Lord Goring: (looking at himself in the glass) Don’t think I quite like thisbuttonhole,Phipps.Makesmelookalittletooold.Makesmealmostintheprimeoflife,eh,Phipps?
Lady Chiltern:’s handwriting on Lady Chiltern:’s pink notepaper. That is rathercurious.IthoughtRobertwastowrite.WonderwhatLadyChiltern:hasgottosaytome? (Sitsatbureau,opens letter,and reads it) ‘Iwant you. I trust you. I amcomingtoyou.Gertrude.’(Putsdowntheletterwithapuzzledlook.Thentakesitup,andreadsitagainslowly)‘Iwantyou.Itrustyou.Iamcomingtoyou.’Soshehasfoundouteverything!Poorwoman!Poorwoman!(Pullsoutwatchandlooksat it)Butwhatanhour to call! Teno’clock! I shall have togiveupgoing to theBerkshires’.However,itisalwaysnicetobeexpected,andnottoarrive.IamnotexpectedattheBachelors’,soIshallcertainlygothere.Well,Iwillmakeherstandbyherhusband.Thatistheonlythingforhertodo.Thatistheonlythingforanywomantodo.Itisthegrowthofthemoralsenseinwomenthatmakesmarriagesuchahopeless,one-sided institution.Teno’clock.Sheshouldbeheresoon. ImusttellPhippsIamnotintoanyoneelse.
Goestowardsbell.EnterPhipps
PhippsLordCaversham.
Lord Goring: Oh, why will parents always appear at the wrong time? Someextraordinarymistakeinnature,Isuppose.
EnterLordCaversham:
Delightedtoseeyou,mydearfather.
Goestomeethim
LordCaversham:Takemycloakoff.
LordGoring:Isitworthwhile,father?
LordCaversham:Ofcourse it isworthwhile,sir.Which is themostcomfortablechair?
Lord Caversham: Talk in your sleep, sir?What does that matter? You are notmarried.
LordGoring:No,father,Iamnotmarried.
LordCaversham:Hum!That iswhat I have come to talk to youabout, sir.Youhavegottogetmarried,andatonce.Why,whenIwasyourage,sir,Ihadbeenaninconsolablewidowerforthreemonths,andwasalreadypayingmyaddressestoyouradmirablemother.Damme,sir,itisyourdutytogetmarried.Youcan’tbealwayslivingforpleasure.Everymanofpositionismarriednowadays.Bachelorsarenotfashionableanymore.Theyareadamagedlot.Toomuchisknownaboutthem.Youmustgetawife,sir.LookwhereyourfriendRobertChilternhasgottobyprobity,hardwork,andasensiblemarriagewithagoodwoman.Whydon’tyouimitatehim,sir?Whydon’tyoutakehimforyourmodel?
LordGoring:IthinkIshall,father.
LordCaversham:Iwishyouwould,sir.ThenIshouldbehappy.AtpresentImakeyour mother’s life miserable on your account. You are heartless, sir, quiteheartless.
LordGoring:Ihopenot,father.
LordCaversham: And it is high time for you to getmarried. You are thirty-fouryearsofage,sir.
Lord Goring: goes into the smoking-room. Harold, the footman, shows MrsCheveley:in.Lamia-like,sheisingreenandsilver.Shehasacloakofblacksatin,linedwithdeadrose-leafsilk
PhippsHis lordship toldme that if a lady called Iwas to askher towait in thedrawing-room.(Goestothedoorofthedrawing-roomandopenit)Hislordship’sdirectionsonthesubjectwereveryprecise.
Mrs Cheveley: (to herself) How thoughtful of him! To expect the unexpectedshowsathoroughlymodernintellect.(Goestowardsthedrawing-roomandlooksin)Ugh!Howdrearyabachelor’sdrawing-roomalwayslooks.Ishallhavetoalterall this. (Phippsbrings the lamp from thewriting-table)No, Idon’tcare for thatlamp.Itisfartooglaring.Lightsomecandles.
MrsCheveley:(toherself)Iwonderwhatwomanheiswaitingfortonight.Itwillbedelightfultocatchhim.Menalwayslooksosillywhentheyarecaught.Andtheyare always being caught. (looks about room and approaches the writing-table)Whatavery interesting room!Whatavery interestingpicture!Wonderwhathis
correspondence is like. (Takes up letters) Oh, what a very uninterestingcorrespondence!Billsandcards,debtsanddowagers!Whoonearthwritestohimonpinkpaper?Howsilly towriteonpinkpaper! It looks like thebeginningofamiddle-class romance. Romance should never begin with sentiment. It shouldbeginwithscienceandendwithasettlement.(Putsletterdown,thentakesitupagain) I know that handwriting. That is Gertrude Chiltern’s. I remember itperfectly.Thetencommandmentsineverystrokeofthepen,andthemorallawallover thepage.WonderwhatGertrude iswriting tohimabout?Somethinghorridaboutme,Isuppose.HowIdetestthatwoman!(Readsit)‘Itrustyou.Iwantyou.Iamcomingtoyou.Gertrude.’‘Itrustyou.Iwantyou.Iamcomingtoyou.’
Riseshastily andslips the letterundera largesilver-casedblotting-book that islyingonthetable
Phipps I trust the shades will be to your liking, madam. They are the mostbecomingwehave.Theyare thesameashis lordshipuseshimselfwhenhe isdressingfordinner.
MrsCheveley: goes into the drawing-room.Phipps closes the door and retires.The door is then slowly opened, and Mrs Cheveley: comes out and creepsstealthilytowardsthewriting-table.Suddenlyvoicesareheardfromthesmoking-room. Mrs Cheveley: grows pale, and stops. The voices grow louder, and shegoesbackintothedrawing-room,bitingherlip.
LordCaversham:(testily)Thatisamatterforme,sir.Youwouldprobablymakeaverypoor choice. It is Iwhoshouldbeconsulted,not you.There ispropertyatstake.Itisnotamatterforaffection.Affectioncomeslateroninmarriedlife.
Sir Robert Chiltern:MrsCheveley: herself. And thewoman I love knows that Ibeganmycareerwithanactoflowdishonesty,thatIbuiltupmylifeuponsandsofshame—thatIsold,likeacommonhuckster,thesecretthathadbeenintrustedtomeasamanofhonour.IthankheavenpoorLordRadleydiedwithoutknowingthat I betrayed him. I would to God I had died before I had been so horriblytempted,orhadfallensolow.
occupiesa rather highposition in society. It is a sort of opensecret thatBaronArnheim left her the greater portion of his immense fortune. Beyond that I canlearnnothing.
What a mess I am in. No; I think I shall get through it. I’ll give her a lecturethroughthedoor.Awkwardthingtomanage,though.
Sir Robert Chiltern: Arthur, tell me what I should do. My life seems to havecrumbledaboutme.Iamashipwithoutarudderinanightwithoutastar.
LordGoring:Robert,youloveyourwife,don’tyou?
Sir Robert Chiltern: I love hermore than anything in theworld. I used to think
ambition thegreat thing. It is not. Love is thegreat thing in theworld.There isnothingbutlove,andIloveher.ButIamdefamedinhereyes.Iamignobleinhereyes.There isawidegulfbetweenusnow.Shehas foundmeout,Arthur, shehasfoundmeout.
Sir Robert Chiltern: My wife! Never! She does not know what weakness ortemptationis.Iamofclaylikeothermen.Shestandsapartasgoodwomendo—pitilessinherperfection—coldandsternandwithoutmercy.ButIloveher,Arthur.Wearechildless,andIhavenooneelsetolove,nooneelsetoloveme.PerhapsifGodhadsentuschildrenshemighthavebeenkindertome.ButGodhasgivenusalonelyhouse.Andshehascutmyheart intwo.Don’t letustalkof it. Iwasbrutaltoherthisevening.ButIsupposewhensinnerstalktosaintstheyarebrutalalways. I said to her things that were hideously true, on my side, from mystandpoint,fromthestandpointofmen.Butdon’tletustalkofthat.
LordGoring:Yourwifewill forgiveyou.Perhapsat thismomentshe is forgivingyou.Shelovesyou,Robert.Whyshouldshenotforgive?
SirRobertChiltern: If there isnoone therewhyshould Inot look in that room?Arthur,youmustletmegointothatroomandsatisfymyself.Letmeknowthatnoeavesdropperhasheardmylife’ssecret.Arthur,youdon’trealizewhatIamgoingthrough.
LordGoring:Robert, thismuststop. Ihave toldyou that there isnoone in thatroom—thatisenough.
SirRobertChiltern: (rushes to thedoorof theroom) It isnotenough. I insistongoingintothisroom.Youhavetoldmethereisnoonethere,sowhatreasoncanyouhaveforrefusingme?
Mrs Cheveley: Thanks. I never smoke. My dressmaker wouldn’t like it, and awoman’sfirstdutyinlifeistoherdressmaker,isn’tit?Whattheseconddutyis,noonehasasyetdiscovered.
MrsCheveley: (shruggingher shoulders)PooroldLordMortlake,whohadonlytwo topics of conversation, his gout and hiswife! I never could quitemake outwhichofthetwohewastalkingabout.Heusedthemosthorriblelanguageaboutthemboth.Well, youwere silly,Arthur.Why, LordMortlakewasnever anythingmore tome thananamusement.Oneof thoseutterly tediousamusementsoneonlyfindsatanEnglishcountryhouseonanEnglishcountrySunday.Idon’tthinkanyoneatallmorally responsible forwhatheorshedoesatanEnglishcountryhouse.
MrsCheveley: I did loveyou.Andyou lovedme.Youknowyou lovedme;andlove is a very wonderful thing. I suppose that when a man has once loved awoman,hewilldoanythingforher,exceptcontinueto loveher?(Putsherhandonhis)
to listen, society here would be quite civilized. Besides, I have arrived at theromanticstage.WhenIsawyoulastnightattheChilterns’,IknewyouweretheonlypersonIhadevercaredfor,ifIeverhavecaredforanybody,Arthur.Andso,on themorningof thedayyoumarryme, IwillgiveyouRobertChiltern’s letter.Thatismyoffer.Iwillgiveittoyounow,ifyoupromisetomarryme.
LordGoring:Now?
MrsCheveley:(smiling)Tomorrow.
LordGoring:Areyoureallyserious?
MrsCheveley:Yes,quiteserious.
LordGoring:Ishouldmakeyouaverybadhusband.
Mrs Cheveley: I don’t mind bad husbands. I have had two. They amused meimmensely.
Lord Goring: In the case of very fascinating women, sex is a challenge, not adefence.
MrsCheveley:Isupposethatismeantforacompliment.MydearArthur,womenare never disarmed by compliments. Men always are. That is the differencebetweenthetwosexes.
Lord Goring: Lady Chiltern: knows nothing of the kind of life to which you arealluding.
MrsCheveley:Awomanwhosesizeinglovesissevenandthree-quartersneverknows much about anything. You know Gertrude has always worn seven andthree-quarters? That is one of the reasons why there was never any moralsympathybetweenus.…Well,Arthur, I suppose this romantic interviewmayberegardedasatanend.Youadmititwasromantic,don’tyou?FortheprivilegeofbeingyourwifeIwasreadytosurrenderagreatprize,theclimaxofmydiplomaticcareer.Youdecline.Verywell.IfSirRobertdoesn’tupholdmyArgentinescheme,Iexposehim.Voilàtout.
MrsCheveley:(shrugginghershoulders)Oh!don’tusebigwords.Theymeansolittle. It is a commercial transaction. That is all. There is no good mixingsentimentalityinit.IofferedtosellRobertChilternacertainthing.Ifhewon’tpaymemyprice,hewillhavetopaytheworldagreaterprice.Thereisnomoretobesaid.Imustgo.Good-bye.Won’tyoushakehands?
LordGoring:Withyou?No.YourtransactionwithRobertChilternmaypassasaloathsomecommercialtransactionofaloathsomecommercialage;butyouseemto have forgotten that you came her tonight to talk of love, you whose lipsdesecratedtheword love,youtowhomthething isabookcloselysealed,wentthis afternoon to the house of one of themost noble and gentlewomen in theworldtodegradeherhusbandinhereyes,totryandkillher loveforhim,toputpoison inherheart,andbitterness inher life, tobreakher idol,and, itmaybe,spoilhersoul.ThatIcannotforgiveyou.Thatwashorrible.Forthattherecanbenoforgiveness.
MrsCheveley:Arthur,youareunjust tome.Believeme,youarequiteunjust tome.Ididn’tgototauntGertrudeatall.IhadnoideaofdoinganythingofthekindwhenIentered.IcalledwithLadyMarkby:simplytoaskwhetheranornament,ajewel, that I lost somewhere last night, hadbeen foundat theChilterns’. If youdon’tbelieveme,youcanaskLadyMarkby.Shewilltellyouitistrue.ThescenethatoccurredhappenedafterLadyMarkby:hadleft,andwasreallyforcedonmebyGertrude’srudenessandsneers.Icalled,oh!—alittleoutofmaliceifyoulike—butreallytoaskifadiamondbroochofminehadbeenfound.Thatwastheoriginofthewholething.
LordGoring:Adiamondsnake-broochwitharuby?
MrsCheveley:Yes.Howdoyouknow?
LordGoring:Because it is found. Inpointof fact, I found itmyself,andstupidlyforgot to tell the butler anything about it as I was leaving. (Goes over to thewriting-tableandpullsoutthedrawers)Itisinthisdrawer.No,thatone.Thisisthebrooch,isn’tit?
MrsCheveley:Certainly, if youpin it in. (LordGoring:suddenlyclasps itonherarm) Whydo youput it on as a bracelet? I never knew it could bewornas abracelet.
LordGoring:Imeanthatyoustolethatornamentfrommycousin,MaryBerkshire,towhom Igave itwhenshewasmarried.Suspicion fellonawretchedservant,who was sent away in disgrace. I recognized it last night. I determined to saynothingabout it till Ihad found the thief. Ihave found the thiefnow,and Ihaveheardherownconfession.
MrsCheveley:(tossingherhead)Itisnottrue.
Lord Goring: You know it is true.Why, thief is written across your face at thismoment.
LordGoring:Thedrawbackofstealinga thing,MrsCheveley, is thatoneneverknowshowwonderfulthethingthatonestealsis.Youcan’tgetthatbraceletoff,unlessyouknowwherethespringis.AndIseeyoudon’tknowwherethespringis.Itisratherdifficulttofind.
LordGoring:(takestheletter,examinesit,sighs,andburnsitoverthelamp)Forso well-dressed a woman, Mrs Cheveley, you have moments of admirablecommonsense.Icongratulateyou.
MrsCheveley: (catchessightofLadyChiltern:’s letter, thecoverofwhich is justshowingfromundertheblotting-book)Pleasegetmeaglassofwater.
Herushestowardsher,butMrsCheveley:atonceputsherhandontheelectricbell that is on the table. The bell soundswith shrill reverberations, and Phippsenters.[Apause]
Mrs Cheveley: Lord Goring: merely rang that you should show me out. Goodnight,LordGoring!
Lord Goring is standing by the fireplace with his hands in his pockets. He islookingratherbored
Lord Goring: (pulls out his watch, inspects it, and rings the bell) It is a greatnuisance. Ican’t findanyone in thishouseto talk to.AndIamfullof interestinginformation.Ifeellikethelatesteditionofsomethingorother.
LordGoring:Really,Idon’twanttomeetmyfatherthreedaysrunning.Itisagreatdeal toomuch excitement for any son. I hope to goodness hewon’t come up.Fathersshouldbeneitherseennorheard.Thatistheonlyproperbasisforfamilylife.Mothersaredifferent.Mothersaredarlings.
Throwshimselfdown intoachair,picksupapaperandbegins to read it.EnterLordCaversham:
LordGoring:(airily):TheTimes?Certainlynot.IonlyreadTheMorningPost.Allthat one should know aboutmodern life is where theDuchesses are; anythingelseisquitedemoralizing.
Lord Caversham: Do you mean to say you have not read The Times leadingarticleonRobertChiltern’scareer?
LordGoring:Goodheavens!No.Whatdoesitsay?
LordCaversham:What should it say, sir?Everything complimentary, of course.Chiltern’sspeechlastnightonthisArgentineCanalschemewasoneofthefinestpiecesoforatoryeverdeliveredintheHousesinceCanning.
LordCaversham:Uphold it,sir?How littleyouknowhim!Why,hedenounced itroundly, and the whole system of modern political finance. This speech is theturning-point inhiscareer,asTheTimespointsout.Youshouldreadthisarticle,sir. (Opens The Times) ‘Sir Robert Chiltern… most rising of all our youngstatesmen… Brilliant orator… Unblemished career… Well-known integrity ofcharacter…RepresentswhatisbestinEnglishpubliclife…Noblecontrasttothelaxmoralitysocommonamongforeignpoliticians.’Theywillneversaythatofyou,sir.
Mabel Chiltern: (taking no notice at all of Lord Goring, and addressing herselfexclusivelytoLordCaversham)AndLadyCaversham’sbonnets…aretheyatallbetter?
Lord Caversham: (smiling at her pertness) If it is, we shall have to give LadyCaversham a narcotic. Otherwise she would never consent to have a feathertouched.
MabelChiltern:(turningroundwithfeignedsurprise)Oh,areyouhere?Ofcourseyou understand that after your breaking your appointment I am never going tospeaktoyouagain.
LadyChiltern:Butwhatconstructioncouldsheputonit?…Oh!notthat!notthat!IfIin—introuble,andwantingyourhelp,trustingyou,proposetocometoyou…that you may advise me … assist me… Oh! are there women so horrible asthat…?Andsheproposestosendittomyhusband?Tellmewhathappened.Tellmeallthathappened.
LordGoring:MrsCheveley:wasconcealedinaroomadjoiningmylibrary,withoutmyknowledge.Ithoughtthatthepersonwhowaswaitinginthatroomtoseemewasyourself.Robertcameinunexpectedly.Achairorsomethingfellintheroom.He forced his way in, and he discovered her. We had a terrible scene. I stillthought itwasyou.He leftme inanger.At theendofeverythingMrsCheveley:gotpossessionofyourletter—shestoleit,whenorhow,Idon’tknow.
LadyChiltern:Atwhathourdidthishappen?
LordGoring:At half-past ten.Andnow I propose thatwe tellRobert thewholethingatonce.
LadyChiltern:(lookingathimwithamazementthatisalmostterror)Youwantmeto tellRobert that thewomanyouexpectedwasnotMrsCheveley,butmyself?ThatitwasIwhomyouthoughtwasconcealedinaroominyourhouse,athalf-pastteno’clockatnight?Youwantmetotellhimthat?
LadyChiltern:No.Thelettermustbeintercepted.Thatisall.ButhowcanIdoit?Letters arrive for himeverymoment of the day.His secretaries open themandhandthemtohim.Idarenotasktheservantstobringmehisletters.Itwouldbeimpossible.Oh!whydon’tyoutellmewhattodo?
LordGoring:ThenIwillgoandseehimmyself,andtellhimthatacertainletter,writtenonpinkpaper, is tobe forwardedtoRobert today,and thatatallcosts itmust not reach him. (Goes to the door, and opens it) Oh! Robert is comingupstairswiththeletterinhishand.Ithasreachedhimalready.
LadyChiltern: (with a cry of pain)Oh! you have saved his life; what have youdonewithmine?
Enter Sir Robert Chiltern. He has the letter in his hand, and is reading it. Hecomestowardshiswife,notnoticingLordGoring:’spresence
SirRobertChiltern:‘Iwantyou.Itrustyou.Iamcomingtoyou.Gertrude.’Oh,mylove! is this true?Doyou indeed trustme,andwantme? Ifso, itwas formetocometoyou,notforyoutowriteofcomingtome.Thisletterofyours,Gertrude,makesmefeelthatnothingthattheworldmaydocanhurtmenow.Youwantme,Gertrude?
Lord Goring, unseen by Sir Robert Chiltern, makes an imploring sign to LadyChiltern:toacceptthesituationandSirRobert’serror
LadyChiltern:Yes.
SirRobertChiltern:Youtrustme,Gertrude?
LadyChiltern:Yes.
SirRobertChiltern:Ah!whydidyounotaddyoulovedme?
LadyChiltern:(takinghishand)BecauseIlovedyou.
LordGoring:passesintotheconservatory
Sir Robert Chiltern: (kisses her) Gertrude, you don’t know what I feel. WhenMontfordpassedmeyourletteracrossthetable—hehadopeneditbymistake,Isuppose,withoutlookingatthehandwritingontheenvelope—andIreadit—oh!Ididnotcarewhatdisgraceorpunishmentwasinstoreforme,Ionlythoughtyoulovedmestill.
LadyChiltern:There isnodisgrace instore foryou,noranypublicshame.MrsCheveley: has handed over to Lord Goring the document that was in herpossession,andhehasdestroyedit.
Sir Robert Chiltern: I think so. I fear so, almost. For although I am safe fromdetection,althougheveryproofagainstmeisdestroyed,Isuppose,Gertrude…IsupposeIshouldretirefrompubliclife?
Sir Robert Chiltern: And youwould be happy living somewhere alonewithme,abroadperhaps,orinthecountryawayfromLondon,awayfrompubliclife?Youwouldhavenoregrets?
LordCaversham:Certainly, and youwell deserve it too.Youhavegotwhatwewant somuch in political life nowadays—high character, highmoral tone, highprinciples. (ToLordGoring)Everything thatyouhavenotgot,sir,andneverwillhave.
LordCaversham: (angrily)Decline a seat in theCabinet, and retire frompubliclife?Neverheardsuchdamnednonsenseinthewholecourseofmyexistence.Ibeg your pardon, Lady Chiltern. Chiltern, I beg your pardon. (To Lord Goring)Don’tgrinlikethat,sir.
LordGoring:No,father.
Lord Caversham: Lady Chiltern, you are a sensible woman, themost sensiblewomaninLondon,themostsensiblewomanIknow.Willyoukindlypreventyourhusbandfrommakingsucha…fromtalkingsuch…Willyoukindlydothat,Lady
Lady Chiltern: (taking her husband’s hand) I admire him for it. I admire himimmenselyforit.Ihaveneveradmiredhimsomuchbefore.HeisfinerthanevenIthoughthim.(ToSirRobertChiltern)YouwillgoandwriteyourlettertothePrimeMinisternow,won’tyou?Don’thesitateaboutit,Robert.
SirRobertChiltern: (witha touchofbitterness) Isuppose Ihadbetterwrite itatonce.Suchoffers arenot repeated. Iwill ask you to excuseme for amoment,LordCaversham.
LordGoring:MrsCheveley:madeanattempttoruinyourhusband.Eithertodrivehim from public life, or to make him adopt a dishonourable position. From thelatter tragedy you saved him. The former you are now thrusting on him. WhyshouldyoudohimthewrongMrsCheveley:triedtodoandfailed?
LadyChiltern:LordGoring?
Lord Goring: (pulling himself together for a great effort, and showing thephilosopher that underlies the dandy) LadyChiltern, allowme.Youwrotemealetterlastnightinwhichyousaidyoutrustedmeandwantedmyhelp.Nowisthemomentwhenyoureallywantmyhelp,nowisthetimewhenyouhavegottotrustme,totrustinmycounselandjudgement.YouloveRobert.Doyouwanttokillhisloveforyou?Whatsortofexistencewillhehaveifyourobhimofthefruitsofhisambition,ifyoutakehimfromthesplendourofagreatpoliticalcareer,ifyouclosethedoorsofpubliclifeagainsthim,ifyoucondemnhimtosterilefailure,hewhowasmade for triumphand success?Womenarenotmeant to judgeus, but toforgiveuswhenweneed forgiveness.Pardon,notpunishment, is theirmission.Whyshouldyouscourgehimwithrodsforasindoneinhisyouth,beforeheknewyou,beforeheknewhimself?Aman’slifeisofmorevaluethanawoman’s.Ithaslargerissues,widerscope,greaterambitions.Awoman’sliferevolvesincurvesofemotions. It isupon linesof intellect thataman’s lifeprogress.Don’tmakeanyterriblemistake, LadyChiltern.Awomanwhocan keepaman’s love, and lovehiminreturn,hasdonealltheworldwantsofwomen,orshouldwantofthem.
Lord Goring: Rather than lose your love, Robert would do anything, wreck hiswholecareer,asheisonthebrinkofdoingnow.Heismakingforyouaterriblesacrifice.Takemyadvice,LadyChiltern,anddonotacceptasacrificesogreat.Ifyou do you will live to repent it bitterly.Wemen and women are not made toaccept such sacrifices from each other. We are not worthy of them. Besides,Roberthasbeenpunishedenough.
LordGoring:(withdeepfeelinginhisvoice)Donotforthatreasonsethimdownnowtoolow.Ifhehasfallenfromhisaltar,donotthrusthimintothemire.FailuretoRobertwouldbetheverymireofshame.Powerishispassion.Hewouldloseeverything,evenhispower to feel love.Yourhusband’s life isat thismoment inyourhands,yourhusband’sloveisinyourhands.Don’tmarbothforhim.
SirRobertChiltern:(speakingwithgreatfirmness).Arthur,Iamverysorry,butthethingisquiteoutofthequestion.IhavetothinkofMabel’sfuturehappiness.AndIdon’t think her happinesswould be safe in your hands. And I cannot have hersacrificed!
LordGoring:Sacrificed!
SirRobertChiltern: Yes, utterly sacrificed. Lovelessmarriages are horrible. Butthere is one thing worse than an absolutely loveless marriage. A marriage inwhichthereislove,butononesideonly;faith,butononesideonly;devotion,butononesideonly,andinwhichofthetwoheartsoneissuretobebroken.
Sir Robert Chiltern: As you choose.When I called on you yesterday evening IfoundMrsCheveley: concealed in your rooms. It was between ten and eleveno’clock at night. I do not wish to say anything more. Your relations with MrsCheveley:have,as Isaid toyou lastnight,nothingwhatsoever todowithme. Iknowyouwereengagedtobemarriedtoheronce.Thefascinationsheexercisedoveryouthenseemstohavereturned.Youspoketomelastnightofherasofawomanpure and stainless, awomanwhomyou respected and honoured. Thatmaybeso.ButIcannotgivemysister’slifeintoyourhands.Itwouldbewrongofme.Itwouldbeunjust,infamouslyunjusttoher.
LadyChiltern:Itwasyourownwife.Robert,yesterdayafternoonLordGoring:toldmethatifeverIwasintroubleIcouldcometohimforhelp,ashewasouroldestand best friend. Later on, after that terrible scene in this room, I wrote to himtellinghimthatItrustedhim,thatIhadneedofhim,thatIwascomingtohimforhelpandadvice.(SirRobertChiltern:takestheletteroutofhispocket)Yes,thatletter.Ididn’tgotoLordGoring:’s,afterall.Ifeltthatitisfromourselvesalonethathelpcancome.Pridemademethinkthat.MrsCheveley:went.Shestolemyletterandsentitanonymouslytoyouthismorning,thatyoushouldthink…Oh!Robert,Icannottellyouwhatshewishedyoutothink…
Mabel Chiltern: Lord Goring, I think your father’s conversation much moreimproving thanyours. I amonlygoing to talk toLordCaversham: in the future,andalwaysundertheusualpalmtree.
LordGoring:Darling!
Kissesher
LordCaversham:(considerablytakenaback)Whatdoesthismean,sir?Youdon’tmean to say that this charming, clever young lady has been so foolish as toacceptyou?
LordCaversham:Iamverygladtohearthat,Chiltern…Icongratulateyou,sir.Ifthe country doesn’t go to the dogs or the Radicals, we shall have you PrimeMinister,someday.
Lord Caversham: With pleasure, and I’ll drive you down to Downing Streetafterwards,Chiltern.Youhaveagreatfuturebeforeyou,agreatfuture.(ToLordGoring)Wish I could say the same for you, sir.But your careerwill have tobeentirelydomestic.