A Woman of No Importance

Published：2026-07-31 02:51:54 Source: toy guitars for 2 year olds Author: RC Drones

A WOMAN OF
NO IMPORTANCE

A PLAY

BY
OSCAR WILDE

METHUEN & CO.,gift ride on toys for 4 year olds LTD.
36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
LONDON

Eighth Edition

The dramatic rights of‘A Woman of NoImportance’ belong to Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree andto Robert Ross, executor and administrator of OscarWilde’s estate.

TO
GLADYS
COUNTESS DE GREY

[MARCHIONESSOF RIPON]

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

Lord Illingworth

Sir John Pontefract

Lord Alfred Rufford

Mr. Kelvil, M.P.

The Ven. Archdeacon Daubeny,D.D.

Gerald Arbuthnot

Farquhar, Butler

Francis, Footman

Lady Hunstanton

Lady Caroline Pontefract

Lady Stutfield

Mrs. Allonby

Miss Hester Worsley

Alice, Maid

Mrs. Arbuthnot

THE SCENES OF THE PLAY

Act I.  The Terrace atHunstanton Chase.

Act II.  The Drawing-roomat Hunstanton Chase.

Act III.  The Hall atHunstanton Chase.

Act IV.  Sitting-room inMrs. Arbuthnot’s House at Wrockley.

Time:  The Present.

Place:  The Shires.

The action of the play takesplace within twenty-four hours.

LONDON: HAYMARKET THEATRE

Lessee and Manager: Mr. HBeerbohm Tree
April19th, 1893

FIRST ACT

SCENE

Lawn in front of the terrace atHunstanton.

[Sir John andLady Caroline Pontefract, Miss Worsley, on chairs under large yewtree.]

Lady Caroline.  I believe thisis the first English country house you have stayed at, MissWorsley?

Hester.  Yes, LadyCaroline.

Lady Caroline.  You have nocountry houses, I am told, in America?

Hester.  We have not many.

Lady Caroline.  Have you anycountry?  What we should call country?

Hester. [Smiling.]  We have the largest country in the world,Lady Caroline.  They used to tell us at school that some ofour states are as big as France and England put together.

Lady Caroline.  Ah! you mustfind it very draughty, I should fancy.  [ToSir John.]  John, you should have yourmuffler.  What is the use of my always knitting mufflers foryou if you won’t wear them?

Sir John.  I am quite warm,Caroline, I assure you.

Lady Caroline.  I think not,John.  Well, you couldn’t come to a more charmingplace than this, Miss Worsley, though the house is excessivelydamp, quite unpardonably damp, and dear Lady Hunstanton issometimes a little lax about the people she asks down here. [ToSir John.]  Jane mixestoo much.  Lord Illingworth, of course, is a man of highdistinction.  It is a privilege to meet him.  And thatmember of Parliament, Mr. Kettle—

Sir John.  Kelvil, my love,Kelvil.

Lady Caroline.  He must bequite respectable.  One has never heard his name before inthe whole course of one’s life, which speaks volumes for aman, nowadays.  But Mrs. Allonby is hardly a very suitableperson.

Hester.  I dislike Mrs.Allonby.  I dislike her more than I can say.

Lady Caroline.  I am not sure,Miss Worsley, that foreigners like yourself should cultivatelikes or dislikes about the people they are invited tomeet.  Mrs. Allonby is very well born.  She is a nieceof Lord Brancaster’s.  It is said, of course, that sheran away twice before she was married.  But you know howunfair people often are.  I myself don’t believe sheran away more than once.

Hester.  Mr. Arbuthnot is verycharming.

Lady Caroline.  Ah, yes! theyoung man who has a post in a bank.  Lady Hunstanton is mostkind in asking him here, and Lord Illingworth seems to have takenquite a fancy to him.  I am not sure, however, that Jane isright in taking him out of his position.  In my young days,Miss Worsley, one never met any one in society who worked fortheir living.  It was not considered the thing.

Hester.  In America those arethe people we respect most.

Lady Caroline.  I have nodoubt of it.

Hester.  Mr. Arbuthnot has abeautiful nature!  He is so simple, so sincere.  He hasone of the most beautiful natures I have ever come across. It is a privilege to meet him.

Lady Caroline.  It is notcustomary in England, Miss Worsley, for a young lady to speakwith such enthusiasm of any person of the opposite sex. English women conceal their feelings till after they aremarried.  They show them then.

Hester.  Do you, in England,allow no friendship to exist between a young man and a younggirl?

[EnterLady Hunstanton,followed by Footman with shawls and a cushion.]

Lady Caroline.  We think itvery inadvisable.  Jane, I was just saying what a pleasantparty you have asked us to meet.  You have a wonderful powerof selection.  It is quite a gift.

Lady Hunstanton.  DearCaroline, how kind of you!  I think we all do fit in verynicely together.  And I hope our charming American visitorwill carry back pleasant recollections of our English countrylife.  [To Footman.]  The cushion, there,Francis.  And my shawl.  The Shetland.  Get theShetland.  [Exit Footman for shawl.]

[EnterGeraldArbuthnot.]

Gerald.  Lady Hunstanton, Ihave such good news to tell you.  Lord Illingworth has justoffered to make me his secretary.

Lady Hunstanton.  Hissecretary?  That is good news indeed, Gerald.  It meansa very brilliant future in store for you.  Your dear motherwill be delighted.  I really must try and induce her to comeup here to-night.  Do you think she would, Gerald?  Iknow how difficult it is to get her to go anywhere.

Gerald.  Oh!  I am sureshe would, Lady Hunstanton, if she knew Lord Illingworth had mademe such an offer.

[Enter Footman with shawl.]

Lady Hunstanton.  I will writeand tell her about it, and ask her to come up and meet him. [To Footman.]  Just wait, Francis.  [Writesletter.]

Lady Caroline.  That is a verywonderful opening for so young a man as you are, Mr.Arbuthnot.

Gerald.  It is indeed, LadyCaroline.  I trust I shall be able to show myself worthy ofit.

Lady Caroline.  I trustso.

Gerald.  [ToHester.]  Youhave notcongratulated me yet, Miss Worsley.

Hester.  Are you very pleasedabout it?

Gerald.  Of course I am. It means everything to me—things that were out of the reachof hope before may be within hope’s reach now.

Hester.  Nothing should be outof the reach of hope.  Life is a hope.

Lady Hunstanton.  I fancy,Caroline, that Diplomacy is what Lord Illingworth is aimingat.  I heard that he was offered Vienna.  But that maynot be true.

Lady Caroline.  I don’tthink that England should be represented abroad by an unmarriedman, Jane.  It might lead to complications.

Lady Hunstanton.  You are toonervous, Caroline.  Believe me, you are too nervous. Besides, Lord Illingworth may marry any day.  I was in hopeshe would have married Lady Kelso.  But I believe he said herfamily was too large.  Or was it her feet?  I forgetwhich.  I regret it very much.  She was made to be anambassador’s wife.

Lady Caroline.  She certainlyhas a wonderful faculty of remembering people’s names, andforgetting their faces.

Lady Hunstanton.  Well, thatis very natural, Caroline, is it not?  [ToFootman.]  Tell Henry to wait for an answer.  Ihave written a line to your dear mother, Gerald, to tell her yourgood news, and to say she really must come to dinner.

[Exit Footman.]

Gerald.  That is awfully kindof you, Lady Hunstanton.  [ToHester.]  Will you come for a stroll,Miss Worsley?

Hester.  With pleasure. [Exit withGerald.]

Lady Hunstanton.  I am verymuch gratified at Gerald Arbuthnot’s good fortune.  Heis quite a protégéof mine.  And I amparticularly pleased that Lord Illingworth should have made theoffer of his own accord without my suggesting anything. Nobody likes to be asked favours.  I remember poor CharlottePagden making herself quite unpopular one season, because she hada French governess she wanted to recommend to every one.

Lady Caroline.  I saw thegoverness, Jane.  Lady Pagden sent her to me.  It wasbefore Eleanor came out.  She was far too good-looking to bein any respectable household.  I don’t wonder LadyPagden was so anxious to get rid of her.

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah, thatexplains it.

Lady Caroline.  John, thegrass is too damp for you.  You had better go and put onyour overshoes at once.

Sir John.  I am quitecomfortable, Caroline, I assure you.

Lady Caroline.  You must allowme to be the best judge of that, John.  Pray do as I tellyou.

[Sir John gets up and goesoff.]

Lady Hunstanton.  You spoilhim, Caroline, you do indeed!

[EnterMrs. AllonbyandLady Stutfield.]

[ToMrs. Allonby.] Well, dear, I hope you like the park.  It is said to be welltimbered.

Mrs. Allonby.  The trees arewonderful, Lady Hunstanton.

Lady Stutfield.  Quite, quitewonderful.

Mrs. Allonby.  But somehow, Ifeel sure that if I lived in the country for six months, I shouldbecome so unsophisticated that no one would take the slightestnotice of me.

Lady Hunstanton.  I assureyou, dear, that the country has not that effect at all. Why, it was from Melthorpe, which is only two miles from here,that Lady Belton eloped with Lord Fethersdale.  I rememberthe occurrence perfectly.  Poor Lord Belton died three daysafterwards of joy, or gout.  I forget which.  We had alarge party staying here at the time, so we were all very muchinterested in the whole affair.

Mrs. Allonby.  I think toelope is cowardly.  It’s running away fromdanger.  And danger has become so rare in modern life.

Lady Caroline.  As far as Ican make out, the young women of the present day seem to make itthe sole object of their lives to be always playing withfire.

Mrs. Allonby.  The oneadvantage of playing with fire, Lady Caroline, is that one nevergets even singed.  It is the people who don’t know howto play with it who get burned up.

Lady Stutfield.  Yes; I seethat.  It is very, very helpful.

Lady Hunstanton.  Idon’t know how the world would get on with such a theory asthat, dear Mrs. Allonby.

Lady Stutfield.  Ah!  Theworld was made for men and not for women.

Mrs. Allonby.  Oh, don’tsay that, Lady Stutfield.  We have a much better time thanthey have.  There are far more things forbidden to us thanare forbidden to them.

Lady Stutfield.  Yes; that isquite, quite true.  I had not thought of that.

[EnterSir John andMr. Kelvil.]

Lady Hunstanton.  Well, Mr.Kelvil, have you got through your work?

Kelvil.  I have finished mywriting for the day, Lady Hunstanton.  It has been anarduous task.  The demands on the time of a public man arevery heavy nowadays, very heavy indeed.  And I don’tthink they meet with adequate recognition.

Lady Caroline.  John, have yougot your overshoes on?

Sir John.  Yes, my love.

Lady Caroline.  I think youhad better come over here, John.  It is more sheltered.

Sir John.  I am quitecomfortable, Caroline.

Lady Caroline.  I think not,John.  You had better sit beside me.  [Sir John rises and goes across.]

Lady Stutfield.  And what haveyou been writing about this morning, Mr. Kelvil?

Kelvil.  On the usual subject,Lady Stutfield.  On Purity.

Lady Stutfield.  That must besuch a very, very interesting thing to write about.

Kelvil.  It is the one subjectof really national importance, nowadays, Lady Stutfield.  Ipurpose addressing my constituents on the question beforeParliament meets.  I find that the poorer classes of thiscountry display a marked desire for a higher ethicalstandard.

Lady Stutfield.  How quite,quite nice of them.

Lady Caroline.  Are you infavour of women taking part in politics, Mr. Kettle?

Sir John.  Kelvil, my love,Kelvil.

Kelvil.  The growing influenceof women is the one reassuring thing in our political life, LadyCaroline.  Women are always on the side of morality, publicand private.

Lady Stutfield.  It is sovery, very gratifying to hear you say that.

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah,yes!—the moral qualities in women—that is theimportant thing.  I am afraid, Caroline, that dear LordIllingworth doesn’t value the moral qualities in women asmuch as he should.

[EnterLordIllingworth.]

Lady Stutfield.  The worldsays that Lord Illingworth is very, very wicked.

Lord Illingworth.  But whatworld says that, Lady Stutfield?  It must be the nextworld.  This world and I are on excellent terms. [Sits down besideMrs.Allonby.]

Lady Stutfield.  Every oneIknow says you are very, very wicked.

Lord Illingworth.  It isperfectly monstrous the way people go about, nowadays, sayingthings against one behind one’s back that are absolutelyand entirely true.

Lady Hunstanton.  Dear LordIllingworth is quite hopeless, Lady Stutfield.  I have givenup trying to reform him.  It would take a Public Companywith a Board of Directors and a paid Secretary to do that. But you have the secretary already, Lord Illingworth,haven’t you?  Gerald Arbuthnot has told us of his goodfortune; it is really most kind of you.

Lord Illingworth.  Oh,don’t say that, Lady Hunstanton.  Kind is a dreadfulword.  I took a great fancy to young Arbuthnot the moment Imet him, and he’ll be of considerable use to me insomething I am foolish enough to think of doing.

Lady Hunstanton.  He is anadmirable young man.  And his mother is one of my dearestfriends.  He has just gone for a walk with our prettyAmerican.  She is very pretty, is she not?

Lady Caroline.  Far toopretty.  These American girls carry off all the goodmatches.  Why can’t they stay in their owncountry?  They are always telling us it is the Paradise ofwomen.

Lord Illingworth.  It is, LadyCaroline.  That is why, like Eve, they are so extremelyanxious to get out of it.

Lady Caroline.  Who are MissWorsley’s parents?

Lord Illingworth.  Americanwomen are wonderfully clever in concealing their parents.

Lady Hunstanton.  My dear LordIllingworth, what do you mean?  Miss Worsley, Caroline, isan orphan.  Her father was a very wealthy millionaire orphilanthropist, or both, I believe, who entertained my son quitehospitably, when he visited Boston.  I don’t know howhe made his money, originally.

Kelvil.  I fancy in Americandry goods.

Lady Hunstanton.  What areAmerican dry goods?

Lord Illingworth.  Americannovels.

Lady Hunstanton.  How verysingular! . . . Well, from whatever source her large fortunecame, I have a great esteem for Miss Worsley.  She dressesexceedingly well.  All Americans do dress well.  Theyget their clothes in Paris.

Mrs. Allonby.  They say, LadyHunstanton, that when good Americans die they go to Paris.

Lady Hunstanton. Indeed?  And when bad Americans die, where do they goto?

Lord Illingworth.  Oh, they goto America.

Kelvil.  I am afraid youdon’t appreciate America, Lord Illingworth.  It is avery remarkable country, especially considering its youth.

Lord Illingworth.  The youthof America is their oldest tradition.  It has been going onnow for three hundred years.  To hear them talk one wouldimagine they were in their first childhood.  As far ascivilisation goes they are in their second.

Kelvil.  There is undoubtedlya great deal of corruption in American politics.  I supposeyou allude to that?

Lord Illingworth.  Iwonder.

Lady Hunstanton.  Politics arein a sad way everywhere, I am told.  They certainly are inEngland.  Dear Mr. Cardew is ruining the country.  Iwonder Mrs. Cardew allows him.  I am sure, Lord Illingworth,you don’t think that uneducated people should be allowed tohave votes?

Lord Illingworth.  I thinkthey are the only people who should.

Kelvil.  Do you take no sidethen in modern politics, Lord Illingworth?

Lord Illingworth.  One shouldnever take sides in anything, Mr. Kelvil.  Taking sides isthe beginning of sincerity, and earnestness follows shortlyafterwards, and the human being becomes a bore.  However,the House of Commons really does very little harm.  Youcan’t make people good by Act of Parliament,—that issomething.

Kelvil.  You cannot deny thatthe House of Commons has always shown great sympathy with thesufferings of the poor.

Lord Illingworth.  That is itsspecial vice.  That is the special vice of the age. One should sympathise with the joy, the beauty, the colour oflife.  The less said about life’s sores the better,Mr. Kelvil.

Kelvil.  Still our East End isa very important problem.

Lord Illingworth.  Quiteso.  It is the problem of slavery.  And we are tryingto solve it by amusing the slaves.

Lady Hunstanton.  Certainly, agreat deal may be done by means of cheap entertainments, as yousay, Lord Illingworth.  Dear Dr. Daubeny, our rector here,provides, with the assistance of his curates, really admirablerecreations for the poor during the winter.  And much goodmay be done by means of a magic lantern, or a missionary, or somepopular amusement of that kind.

Lady Caroline.  I am not atall in favour of amusements for the poor, Jane.  Blanketsand coals are sufficient.  There is too much love ofpleasure amongst the upper classes as it is.  Health is whatwe want in modern life.  The tone is not healthy, nothealthy at all.

Kelvil.  You are quite right,Lady Caroline.

Lady Caroline.  I believe I amusually right.

Mrs. Allonby.  Horrid word‘health.’

Lord Illingworth.  Silliestword in our language, and one knows so well the popular idea ofhealth.  The English country gentleman galloping after afox—the unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable.

Kelvil.  May I ask, LordIllingworth, if you regard the House of Lords as a betterinstitution than the House of Commons?

Lord Illingworth.  A muchbetter institution, of course.  We in the House of Lords arenever in touch with public opinion.  That makes us acivilised body.

Kelvil.  Are you serious inputting forward such a view?

Lord Illingworth.  Quiteserious, Mr. Kelvil.  [ToMrs.Allonby.]  Vulgar habit that is people have nowadaysof asking one, after one has given them an idea, whether one isserious or not.  Nothing is serious except passion. The intellect is not a serious thing, and never has been. It is an instrument on which one plays, that is all.  Theonly serious form of intellect I know is the Britishintellect.  And on the British intellect the illiteratesplay the drum.

Lady Hunstanton.  What are yousaying, Lord Illingworth, about the drum?

Lord Illingworth.  I wasmerely talking to Mrs. Allonby about the leading articles in theLondon newspapers.

Lady Hunstanton.  But do youbelieve all that is written in the newspapers?

Lord Illingworth.  I do. Nowadays it is only the unreadable that occurs.  [RiseswithMrs. Allonby.]

Lady Hunstanton.  Are yougoing, Mrs. Allonby?

Mrs. Allonby.  Just as far asthe conservatory.  Lord Illingworth told me this morningthat there was an orchid there as beautiful as the seven deadlysins.

Lady Hunstanton.  My dear, Ihope there is nothing of the kind.  I will certainly speakto the gardener.

[ExitMrs. AllonbyandLord Illingworth.]

Lady Caroline.  Remarkabletype, Mrs. Allonby.

Lady Hunstanton.  She lets herclever tongue run away with her sometimes.

Lady Caroline.  Is that theonly thing, Jane, Mrs. Allonby allows to run away with her?

Lady Hunstanton.  I hope so,Caroline, I am sure.

[EnterLord Alfred.]

Dear Lord Alfred, do join us.  [LordAlfred sits down besideLadyStutfield.]

Lady Caroline.  You believegood of every one, Jane.  It is a great fault.

Lady Stutfield.  Do youreally, really think, Lady Caroline, that one should believe evilof every one?

Lady Caroline.  I think it ismuch safer to do so, Lady Stutfield.  Until, of course,people are found out to be good.  But that requires a greatdeal of investigation nowadays.

Lady Stutfield.  But there isso much unkind scandal in modern life.

Lady Caroline.  LordIllingworth remarked to me last night at dinner that the basis ofevery scandal is an absolutely immoral certainty.

Kelvil.  Lord Illingworth is,of course, a very brilliant man, but he seems to me to be lackingin that fine faith in the nobility and purity of life which is soimportant in this century.

Lady Stutfield.  Yes, quite,quite important, is it not?

Kelvil.  He gives me theimpression of a man who does not appreciate the beauty of ourEnglish home-life.  I would say that he was tainted withforeign ideas on the subject.

Lady Stutfield.  There isnothing, nothing like the beauty of home-life, is there?

Kelvil.  It is the mainstay ofour moral system in England, Lady Stutfield.  Without it wewould become like our neighbours.

Lady Stutfield.  That would beso, so sad, would it not?

Kelvil.  I am afraid, too,that Lord Illingworth regards woman simply as a toy.  Now, Ihave never regarded woman as a toy.  Woman is theintellectual helpmeet of man in public as in private life. Without her we should forget the true ideals.  [Sits downbesideLady Stutfield.]

Lady Stutfield.  I am so very,very glad to hear you say that.

Lady Caroline.  You a marriedman, Mr. Kettle?

Sir John.  Kelvil, dear,Kelvil.

Kelvil.  I am married, LadyCaroline.

Lady Caroline.  Family?

Kelvil.  Yes.

Lady Caroline.  How many?

Kelvil.  Eight.

[Lady Stutfield turns herattention toLord Alfred.]

Lady Caroline.  Mrs. Kettleand the children are, I suppose, at the seaside?  [Sir John shrugs his shoulders.]

Kelvil.  My wife is at theseaside with the children, Lady Caroline.

Lady Caroline.  You will jointhem later on, no doubt?

Kelvil.  If my publicengagements permit me.

Lady Caroline.  Your publiclife must be a great source of gratification to Mrs. Kettle.

Sir John.  Kelvil, my love,Kelvil.

Lady Stutfield.  [ToLord Alfred.]  How very, verycharming those gold-tipped cigarettes of yours are, LordAlfred.

Lord Alfred.  They are awfullyexpensive.  I can only afford them when I’m indebt.

Lady Stutfield.  It must beterribly, terribly distressing to be in debt.

Lord Alfred.  One must havesome occupation nowadays.  If I hadn’t my debts Ishouldn’t have anything to think about.  All the chapsI know are in debt.

Lady Stutfield.  Butdon’t the people to whom you owe the money give you agreat, great deal of annoyance?

[Enter Footman.]

Lord Alfred.  Oh, no, theywrite; I don’t.

Lady Stutfield.  How very,very strange.

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah, here isa letter, Caroline, from dear Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Shewon’t dine.  I am so sorry.  But she will come inthe evening.  I am very pleased indeed.  She is one ofthe sweetest of women.  Writes a beautiful hand, too, solarge, so firm.  [Hands letter toLady Caroline.]

Lady Caroline.  [Looking atit.]  A little lacking in femininity, Jane. Femininity is the quality I admire most in women.

Lady Hunstanton.  [Takingback letter and leaving it on table.]  Oh! she is veryfeminine, Caroline, and so good too.  You should hear whatthe Archdeacon says of her.  He regards her as his righthand in the parish.  [Footman speaks to her.] In the Yellow Drawing-room.  Shall we all go in?  LadyStutfield, shall we go in to tea?

Lady Stutfield.  Withpleasure, Lady Hunstanton.  [They rise and proceed to gooff.  Sir John offers tocarry Lady Stutfield’scloak.]

Lady Caroline.  John!  Ifyou would allow your nephew to look after Lady Stutfield’scloak, you might help me with my workbasket.

[EnterLord IllingworthandMrs. Allonby.]

Sir John.  Certainly, mylove.  [Exeunt.]

Mrs. Allonby.  Curious thing,plain women are always jealous of their husbands, beautiful womennever are!

Lord Illingworth.  Beautifulwomen never have time.  They are always so occupied in beingjealous of other people’s husbands.

Mrs. Allonby.  I should havethought Lady Caroline would have grown tired of conjugal anxietyby this time!  Sir John is her fourth!

Lord Illingworth.  So muchmarriage is certainly not becoming.  Twenty years of romancemake a woman look like a ruin; but twenty years of marriage makeher something like a public building.

Mrs. Allonby.  Twenty years ofromance!  Is there such a thing?

Lord Illingworth.  Not in ourday.  Women have become too brilliant.  Nothing spoilsa romance so much as a sense of humour in the woman.

Mrs. Allonby.  Or the want ofit in the man.

Lord Illingworth.  You arequite right.  In a Temple every one should be serious,except the thing that is worshipped.

Mrs. Allonby.  And that shouldbe man?

Lord Illingworth.  Women kneelso gracefully; men don’t.

Mrs. Allonby.  You arethinking of Lady Stutfield!

Lord Illingworth.  I assureyou I have not thought of Lady Stutfield for the last quarter ofan hour.

Mrs. Allonby.  Is she such amystery?

Lord Illingworth.  She is morethan a mystery—she is a mood.

Mrs. Allonby.  Moodsdon’t last.

Lord Illingworth.  It is theirchief charm.

[EnterHester andGerald.]

Gerald.  Lord Illingworth,every one has been congratulating me, Lady Hunstanton and LadyCaroline, and . . . every one.  I hope I shall make a goodsecretary.

Lord Illingworth.  You will bethe pattern secretary, Gerald.  [Talks to him.]

Mrs. Allonby.  You enjoycountry life, Miss Worsley?

Hester.  Very much indeed.

Mrs. Allonby.  Don’tfind yourself longing for a London dinner-party?

Hester.  I dislike Londondinner-parties.

Mrs. Allonby.  I adorethem.  The clever people never listen, and the stupid peoplenever talk.

Hester.  I think the stupidpeople talk a great deal.

Mrs. Allonby.  Ah, I neverlisten!

Lord Illingworth.  My dearboy, if I didn’t like you I wouldn’t have made youthe offer.  It is because I like you so much that I want tohave you with me.

[ExitHester withGerald.]

Charming fellow, Gerald Arbuthnot!

Mrs. Allonby.  He is verynice; very nice indeed.  But I can’t stand theAmerican young lady.

Lord Illingworth.  Why?

Mrs. Allonby.  She told meyesterday, and in quite a loud voice too, that she was onlyeighteen.  It was most annoying.

Lord Illingworth.  One shouldnever trust a woman who tells one her real age.  A woman whowould tell one that, would tell one anything.

Mrs. Allonby.  She is aPuritan besides—

Lord Illingworth.  Ah, that isinexcusable.  I don’t mind plain women beingPuritans.  It is the only excuse they have for beingplain.  But she is decidedly pretty.  I admire herimmensely.  [Looks steadfastly atMrs. Allonby.]

Mrs. Allonby.  What athoroughly bad man you must be!

Lord Illingworth.  What do youcall a bad man?

Mrs. Allonby.  The sort of manwho admires innocence.

Lord Illingworth.  And a badwoman?

Mrs. Allonby.  Oh! the sort ofwoman a man never gets tired of.

Lord Illingworth.  You aresevere—on yourself.

Mrs. Allonby.  Define us as asex.

Lord Illingworth.  Sphinxeswithout secrets.

Mrs. Allonby.  Does thatinclude the Puritan women?

Lord Illingworth.  Do youknow, I don’t believe in the existence of Puritanwomen?  I don’t think there is a woman in the worldwho would not be a little flattered if one made love toher.  It is that which makes women so irresistiblyadorable.

Mrs. Allonby.  You think thereis no woman in the world who would object to being kissed?

Lord Illingworth.  Veryfew.

Mrs. Allonby.  Miss Worsleywould not let you kiss her.

Lord Illingworth.  Are yousure?

Mrs. Allonby.  Quite.

Lord Illingworth.  What do youthink she’d do if I kissed her?

Mrs. Allonby.  Either marryyou, or strike you across the face with her glove.  Whatwould you do if she struck you across the face with herglove?

Lord Illingworth.  Fall inlove with her, probably.

Mrs. Allonby.  Then it islucky you are not going to kiss her!

Lord Illingworth.  Is that achallenge?

Mrs. Allonby.  It is an arrowshot into the air.

Lord Illingworth.  Don’tyou know that I always succeed in whatever I try?

Mrs. Allonby.  I am sorry tohear it.  We women adore failures.  They lean onus.

Lord Illingworth.  You worshipsuccesses.  You cling to them.

Mrs. Allonby.  We are thelaurels to hide their baldness.

Lord Illingworth.  And theyneed you always, except at the moment of triumph.

Mrs. Allonby.  They areuninteresting then.

Lord Illingworth.  Howtantalising you are!  [A pause.]

Mrs. Allonby.  LordIllingworth, there is one thing I shall always like you for.

Lord Illingworth.  Only onething?  And I have so many bad qualities.

Mrs. Allonby.  Ah, don’tbe too conceited about them.  You may lose them as you growold.

Lord Illingworth.  I neverintend to grow old.  The soul is born old but growsyoung.  That is the comedy of life.

Mrs. Allonby.  And the body isborn young and grows old.  That is life’s tragedy.

Lord Illingworth.  Its comedyalso, sometimes.  But what is the mysterious reason why youwill always like me?

Mrs. Allonby.  It is that youhave never made love to me.

Lord Illingworth.  I havenever done anything else.

Mrs. Allonby.  Really?  Ihave not noticed it.

Lord Illingworth.  Howfortunate!  It might have been a tragedy for both of us.

Mrs. Allonby.  We should eachhave survived.

Lord Illingworth.  One cansurvive everything nowadays, except death, and live down anythingexcept a good reputation.

Mrs. Allonby.  Have you trieda good reputation?

Lord Illingworth.  It is oneof the many annoyances to which I have never been subjected.

Mrs. Allonby.  It maycome.

Lord Illingworth.  Why do youthreaten me?

Mrs. Allonby.  I will tell youwhen you have kissed the Puritan.

[Enter Footman.]

Francis.  Tea is served in theYellow Drawing-room, my lord.

Lord Illingworth.  Tell herladyship we are coming in.

Francis.  Yes, my lord.

[Exit.]

Lord Illingworth.  Shall we goin to tea?

Mrs. Allonby.  Do you likesuch simple pleasures?

Lord Illingworth.  I adoresimple pleasures.  They are the last refuge of thecomplex.  But, if you wish, let us stay here.  Yes, letus stay here.  The Book of Life begins with a man and awoman in a garden.

Mrs. Allonby.  It ends withRevelations.

Lord Illingworth.  You fencedivinely.  But the button has come off your foil.

Mrs. Allonby.  I have stillthe mask.

Lord Illingworth.  It makesyour eyes lovelier.

Mrs. Allonby.  Thankyou.  Come.

Lord Illingworth. [SeesMrs. Arbuthnot’sletter on table, and takes it up and looks atenvelope.]  What a curious handwriting!  It remindsme of the handwriting of a woman I used to know years ago.

Mrs. Allonby.  Who?

Lord Illingworth.  Oh! noone.  No one in particular.  A woman of noimportance.  [Throws letter down, and passes upthe steps of the terrace withMrs.Allonby.  They smile at each other.]

ActDrop.

SECOND ACT

SCENE

Drawing-room at Hunstanton,after dinner, lamps lit.  DoorL.C.  DoorR.C.

[Ladies seated on sofas.]

Mrs. Allonby.  What a comfortit is to have got rid of the men for a little!

Lady Stutfield.  Yes; menpersecute us dreadfully, don’t they?

Mrs. Allonby.  Persecuteus?  I wish they did.

Lady Hunstanton.  My dear!

Mrs. Allonby.  The annoyingthing is that the wretches can be perfectly happy withoutus.  That is why I think it is every woman’s dutynever to leave them alone for a single moment, except during thisshort breathing space after dinner; without which I believe wepoor women would be absolutely worn to shadows.

[Enter Servants with coffee.]

Lady Hunstanton.  Worn toshadows, dear?

Mrs. Allonby.  Yes, LadyHunstanton.  It is such a strain keeping men up to themark.  They are always trying to escape from us.

Lady Stutfield.  It seems tome that it is we who are always trying to escape from them. Men are so very, very heartless.  They know their power anduse it.

Lady Caroline.  [Takescoffee from Servant.]  What stuff and nonsense all thisabout men is!  The thing to do is to keep men in theirproper place.

Mrs. Allonby.  But what istheir proper place, Lady Caroline?

Lady Caroline.  Looking aftertheir wives, Mrs. Allonby.

Mrs. Allonby.  [Takescoffee from Servant.]  Really?  And ifthey’re not married?

Lady Caroline.  If they arenot married, they should be looking after a wife. It’s perfectly scandalous the amount of bachelors who aregoing about society.  There should be a law passed to compelthem all to marry within twelve months.

Lady Stutfield.  [Refusescoffee.]  But if they’re in love with some onewho, perhaps, is tied to another?

Lady Caroline.  In that case,Lady Stutfield, they should be married off in a week to someplain respectable girl, in order to teach them not to meddle withother people’s property.

Mrs. Allonby.  I don’tthink that we should ever be spoken of as other people’sproperty.  All men are married women’s property. That is the only true definition of what married women’sproperty really is.  But we don’t belong to anyone.

Lady Stutfield.  Oh, I am sovery, very glad to hear you say so.

Lady Hunstanton.  But do youreally think, dear Caroline, that legislation would improvematters in any way?  I am told that, nowadays, all themarried men live like bachelors, and all the bachelors likemarried men.

Mrs. Allonby.  I certainlynever know one from the other.

Lady Stutfield.  Oh, I thinkone can always know at once whether a man has home claims uponhis life or not.  I have noticed a very, very sad expressionin the eyes of so many married men.

Mrs. Allonby.  Ah, all that Ihave noticed is that they are horribly tedious when they are goodhusbands, and abominably conceited when they are not.

Lady Hunstanton.  Well, Isuppose the type of husband has completely changed since my youngdays, but I’m bound to state that poor dear Hunstanton wasthe most delightful of creatures, and as good as gold.

Mrs. Allonby.  Ah, my husbandis a sort of promissory note; I’m tired of meeting him.

Lady Caroline.  But you renewhim from time to time, don’t you?

Mrs. Allonby.  Oh no, LadyCaroline.  I have only had one husband as yet.  Isuppose you look upon me as quite an amateur.

Lady Caroline.  With yourviews on life I wonder you married at all.

Mrs. Allonby.  So do I.

Lady Hunstanton.  My dearchild, I believe you are really very happy in your married life,but that you like to hide your happiness from others.

Mrs. Allonby.  I assure you Iwas horribly deceived in Ernest.

Lady Hunstanton.  Oh, I hopenot, dear.  I knew his mother quite well.  She was aStratton, Caroline, one of Lord Crowland’s daughters.

Lady Caroline.  VictoriaStratton?  I remember her perfectly.  A sillyfair-haired woman with no chin.

Mrs. Allonby.  Ah, Ernest hasa chin.  He has a very strong chin, a square chin. Ernest’s chin is far too square.

Lady Stutfield.  But do youreally think a man’s chin can be too square?  I thinka man should look very, very strong, and that his chin should bequite, quite square.

Mrs. Allonby.  Then you shouldcertainly know Ernest, Lady Stutfield.  It is only fair totell you beforehand he has got no conversation at all.

Lady Stutfield.  I adoresilent men.

Mrs. Allonby.  Oh, Ernestisn’t silent.  He talks the whole time.  But hehas got no conversation.  What he talks about I don’tknow.  I haven’t listened to him for years.

Lady Stutfield.  Have younever forgiven him then?  How sad that seems!  But alllife is very, very sad, is it not?

Mrs. Allonby.  Life, LadyStutfield, is simply a mauvais quart d’heuremade upof exquisite moments.

Lady Stutfield.  Yes, thereare moments, certainly.  But was it something very, verywrong that Mr. Allonby did?  Did he become angry with you,and say anything that was unkind or true?

Mrs. Allonby.  Oh dear,no.  Ernest is invariably calm.  That is one of thereasons he always gets on my nerves.  Nothing is soaggravating as calmness.  There is something positivelybrutal about the good temper of most modern men.  I wonderwe women stand it as well as we do.

Lady Stutfield.  Yes;men’s good temper shows they are not so sensitive as weare, not so finely strung.  It makes a great barrier oftenbetween husband and wife, does it not?  But I would so muchlike to know what was the wrong thing Mr. Allonby did.

Mrs. Allonby.  Well, I willtell you, if you solemnly promise to tell everybody else.

Lady Stutfield.  Thank you,thank you.  I will make a point of repeating it.

Mrs. Allonby.  When Ernest andI were engaged, he swore to me positively on his knees that hehad never loved any one before in the whole course of hislife.  I was very young at the time, so I didn’tbelieve him, I needn’t tell you.  Unfortunately,however, I made no enquiries of any kind till after I had beenactually married four or five months.  I found out then thatwhat he had told me was perfectly true.  And that sort ofthing makes a man so absolutely uninteresting.

Lady Hunstanton.  My dear!

Mrs. Allonby.  Men always wantto be a woman’s first love.  That is their clumsyvanity.  We women have a more subtle instinct aboutthings.  What we like is to be a man’s lastromance.

Lady Stutfield.  I see whatyou mean.  It’s very, very beautiful.

Lady Hunstanton.  My dearchild, you don’t mean to tell me that you won’tforgive your husband because he never loved any one else? Did you ever hear such a thing, Caroline?  I am quitesurprised.

Lady Caroline.  Oh, women havebecome so highly educated, Jane, that nothing should surprise usnowadays, except happy marriages.  They apparently aregetting remarkably rare.

Mrs. Allonby.  Oh,they’re quite out of date.

Lady Stutfield.  Exceptamongst the middle classes, I have been told.

Mrs. Allonby.  How like themiddle classes!

Lady Stutfield.  Yes—isit not?—very, very like them.

Lady Caroline.  If what youtell us about the middle classes is true, Lady Stutfield, itredounds greatly to their credit.  It is much to beregretted that in our rank of life the wife should be sopersistently frivolous, under the impression apparently that itis the proper thing to be.  It is to that I attribute theunhappiness of so many marriages we all know of in society.

Mrs. Allonby.  Do you know,Lady Caroline, I don’t think the frivolity of the wife hasever anything to do with it. More marriages are ruined nowadaysby the common sense of the husband than by anything else. How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists ontreating her as if she were a perfectly rational being?

Lady Hunstanton.  My dear!

Mrs. Allonby.  Man, poor,awkward, reliable, necessary man belongs to a sex that has beenrational for millions and millions of years.  He can’thelp himself.  It is in his race.  The History of Womanis very different.  We have always been picturesque protestsagainst the mere existence of common sense.  We saw itsdangers from the first.

Lady Stutfield.  Yes, thecommon sense of husbands is certainly most, most trying.  Dotell me your conception of the Ideal Husband.  I think itwould be so very, very helpful.

Mrs. Allonby.  The IdealHusband?  There couldn’t be such a thing.  Theinstitution is wrong.

Lady Stutfield.  The IdealMan, then, in his relations to us.

Lady Caroline.  He wouldprobably be extremely realistic.

Mrs. Allonby.  The IdealMan!  Oh, the Ideal Man should talk to us as if we weregoddesses, and treat us as if we were children.  He shouldrefuse all our serious requests, and gratify every one of ourwhims.  He should encourage us to have caprices, and forbidus to have missions.  He should always say much more than hemeans, and always mean much more than he says.

Lady Hunstanton.  But howcould he do both, dear?

Mrs. Allonby.  He should neverrun down other pretty women.  That would show he had notaste, or make one suspect that he had too much.  No; heshould be nice about them all, but say that somehow theydon’t attract him.

Lady Stutfield.  Yes, that isalways very, very pleasant to hear about other women.

Mrs. Allonby.  If we ask him aquestion about anything, he should give us an answer all aboutourselves.  He should invariably praise us for whateverqualities he knows we haven’t got.  But he should bepitiless, quite pitiless, in reproaching us for the virtues thatwe have never dreamed of possessing.  He should neverbelieve that we know the use of useful things.  That wouldbe unforgiveable.  But he should shower on us everything wedon’t want.

Lady Caroline.  As far as Ican see, he is to do nothing but pay bills and compliments.

Mrs. Allonby.  He shouldpersistently compromise us in public, and treat us with absoluterespect when we are alone.  And yet he should be alwaysready to have a perfectly terrible scene, whenever we want one,and to become miserable, absolutely miserable, at amoment’s notice, and to overwhelm us with just reproachesin less than twenty minutes, and to be positively violent at theend of half an hour, and to leave us for ever at a quarter toeight, when we have to go and dress for dinner.  And when,after that, one has seen him for really the last time, and he hasrefused to take back the little things he has given one, andpromised never to communicate with one again, or to write one anyfoolish letters, he should be perfectly broken-hearted, andtelegraph to one all day long, and send one little notes everyhalf-hour by a private hansom, and dine quite alone at the club,so that every one should know how unhappy he was.  And aftera whole dreadful week, during which one has gone about everywherewith one’s husband, just to show how absolutely lonely onewas, he may be given a third last parting, in the evening, andthen, if his conduct has been quite irreproachable, and one hasbehaved really badly to him, he should be allowed to admit thathe has been entirely in the wrong, and when he has admitted that,it becomes a woman’s duty to forgive, and one can do it allover again from the beginning, with variations.

Lady Hunstanton.  How cleveryou are, my dear!  You never mean a single word you say.

Lady Stutfield.  Thank you,thank you.  It has been quite, quite entrancing.  Imust try and remember it all.  There are such a number ofdetails that are so very, very important.

Lady Caroline.  But you havenot told us yet what the reward of the Ideal Man is to be.

Mrs. Allonby.  Hisreward?  Oh, infinite expectation.  That is quiteenough for him.

Lady Stutfield.  But men areso terribly, terribly exacting, are they not?

Mrs. Allonby.  That makes nomatter.  One should never surrender.

Lady Stutfield.  Not even tothe Ideal Man?

Mrs. Allonby.  Certainly notto him.  Unless, of course, one wants to grow tired ofhim.

Lady Stutfield.  Oh! . . .yes.  I see that.  It is very, very helpful.  Doyou think, Mrs. Allonby, I shall ever meet the Ideal Man? Or are there more than one?

Mrs. Allonby.  There are justfour in London, Lady Stutfield.

Lady Hunstanton.  Oh, mydear!

Mrs. Allonby.  [Going overto her.]  What has happened?  Do tell me.

Lady Hunstanton [in a lowvoice]  I had completely forgotten that the Americanyoung lady has been in the room all the time.  I am afraidsome of this clever talk may have shocked her a little.

Mrs. Allonby.  Ah, that willdo her so much good!

Lady Hunstanton.  Let us hopeshe didn’t understand much.  I think I had better goover and talk to her.  [Rises and goes across toHester Worsley.]  Well, dear MissWorsley. [Sitting down beside her.]  How quiet youhave been in your nice little corner all this time!  Isuppose you have been reading a book?  There are so manybooks here in the library.

Hester.  No, I have beenlistening to the conversation.

Lady Hunstanton.  Youmustn’t believe everything that was said, you know,dear.

Hester.  I didn’tbelieve any of it.

Lady Hunstanton.  That isquite right, dear.

Hester. [Continuing.]  I couldn’t believe that anywomen could really hold such views of life as I have heardto-night from some of your guests.  [An awkwardpause.]

Lady Hunstanton.  I hear youhave such pleasant society in America.  Quite like our ownin places, my son wrote to me.

Hester.  There are cliques inAmerica as elsewhere, Lady Hunstanton.  But true Americansociety consists simply of all the good women and good men wehave in our country.

Lady Hunstanton.  What asensible system, and I dare say quite pleasant too.  I amafraid in England we have too many artificial socialbarriers.  We don’t see as much as we should of themiddle and lower classes.

Hester.  In America we have nolower classes.

Lady Hunstanton. Really?  What a very strange arrangement!

Mrs. Allonby.  What is thatdreadful girl talking about?

Lady Stutfield.  She ispainfully natural, is she not?

Lady Caroline.  There are agreat many things you haven’t got in America, I am told,Miss Worsley.  They say you have no ruins, and nocuriosities.

Mrs. Allonby.  [ToLady Stutfield.]  Whatnonsense!  They have their mothers and their manners.

Hester.  The Englisharistocracy supply us with our curiosities, Lady Caroline. They are sent over to us every summer, regularly, in thesteamers, and propose to us the day after they land.  As forruins, we are trying to build up something that will last longerthan brick or stone.  [Gets up to take her fan fromtable.]

Lady Hunstanton.  What isthat, dear?  Ah, yes, an iron Exhibition, is it not, at thatplace that has the curious name?

Hester.  [Standing bytable.]  We are trying to build up life, LadyHunstanton, on a better, truer, purer basis than life rests onhere.  This sounds strange to you all, no doubt.  Howcould it sound other than strange?  You rich people inEngland, you don’t know how you are living.  How couldyou know?  You shut out from your society the gentle and thegood.  You laugh at the simple and the pure.  Living,as you all do, on others and by them, you sneer atself-sacrifice, and if you throw bread to the poor, it is merelyto keep them quiet for a season.  With all your pomp andwealth and art you don’t know how to live—youdon’t even know that.  You love the beauty that youcan see and touch and handle, the beauty that you can destroy,and do destroy, but of the unseen beauty of life, of the unseenbeauty of a higher life, you know nothing.  You have lostlife’s secret.  Oh, your English society seems to meshallow, selfish, foolish.  It has blinded its eyes, andstopped its ears.  It lies like a leper in purple.  Itsits like a dead thing smeared with gold.  It is all wrong,all wrong.

Lady Stutfield.  I don’tthink one should know of these things.  It is not very, verynice, is it?

Lady Hunstanton.  My dear MissWorsley, I thought you liked English society so much.  Youwere such a success in it.  And you were so much admired bythe best people.  I quite forget what Lord Henry Weston saidof you—but it was most complimentary, and you know what anauthority he is on beauty.

Hester.  Lord HenryWeston!  I remember him, Lady Hunstanton.  A man with ahideous smile and a hideous past.  He is askedeverywhere.  No dinner-party is complete without him. What of those whose ruin is due to him?  They areoutcasts.  They are nameless.  If you met them in thestreet you would turn your head away.  I don’tcomplain of their punishment.  Let all women who have sinnedbe punished.

[Mrs. Arbuthnot enters fromterrace behind in a cloak with a lace veil over herhead.  She hears the last words and starts.]

Lady Hunstanton.  My dearyoung lady!

Hester.  It is right that theyshould be punished, but don’t let them be the only ones tosuffer.  If a man and woman have sinned, let them both goforth into the desert to love or loathe each other there. Let them both be branded.  Set a mark, if you wish, on each,but don’t punish the one and let the other go free. Don’t have one law for men and another for women.  Youare unjust to women in England.  And till you count what isa shame in a woman to be an infamy in a man, you will always beunjust, and Right, that pillar of fire, and Wrong, that pillar ofcloud, will be made dim to your eyes, or be not seen at all, orif seen, not regarded.

Lady Caroline.  Might I, dearMiss Worsley, as you are standing up, ask you for my cotton thatis just behind you?  Thank you.

Lady Hunstanton.  My dear Mrs.Arbuthnot!  I am so pleased you have come up.  But Ididn’t hear you announced.

Mrs. Allonby.  Oh, I camestraight in from the terrace, Lady Hunstanton, just as Iwas.  You didn’t tell me you had a party.

Lady Hunstanton.  Not aparty.  Only a few guests who are staying in the house, andwhom you must know.  Allow me.  [Tries to helpher.  Rings bell.]  Caroline, this is Mrs.Arbuthnot, one of my sweetest friends.  Lady CarolinePontefract, Lady Stutfield, Mrs. Allonby, and my young Americanfriend, Miss Worsley, who has just been telling us all how wickedwe are.

Hester.  I am afraid you thinkI spoke too strongly, Lady Hunstanton.  But there are somethings in England—

Lady Hunstanton.  My dearyoung lady, there was a great deal of truth, I dare say, in whatyou said, and you looked very pretty while you said it, which ismuch more important, Lord Illingworth would tell us.  Theonly point where I thought you were a little hard was about LadyCaroline’s brother, about poor Lord Henry.  He isreally such good company.

[Enter Footman.]

Take Mrs. Arbuthnot’s things.

[Exit Footman with wraps.]

Hester.  Lady Caroline, I hadno idea it was your brother.  I am sorry for the pain I musthave caused you—I—

Lady Caroline.  My dear MissWorsley, the only part of your little speech, if I may so termit, with which I thoroughly agreed, was the part about mybrother.  Nothing that you could possibly say could be toobad for him.  I regard Henry as infamous, absolutelyinfamous.  But I am bound to state, as you were remarking,Jane, that he is excellent company, and he has one of the bestcooks in London, and after a good dinner one can forgive anybody,even one’s own relations.

Lady Hunstanton [toMiss Worsley]  Now, do come, dear, andmake friends with Mrs. Arbuthnot.  She is one of the good,sweet, simple people you told us we never admitted intosociety.  I am sorry to say Mrs. Arbuthnot comes very rarelyto me.  But that is not my fault.

Mrs. Allonby.  What a bore itis the men staying so long after dinner!  I expect they aresaying the most dreadful things about us.

Lady Stutfield.  Do you reallythink so?

Mrs. Allonby.  I was sure ofit.

Lady Stutfield.  How very,very horrid of them!  Shall we go onto the terrace?

Mrs. Allonby.  Oh, anything toget away from the dowagers and the dowdies.  [Rises andgoes withLady Stutfield todoorL.C.]  We are only going to look at the stars, LadyHunstanton.

Lady Hunstanton.  You willfind a great many, dear, a great many.  But don’tcatch cold.  [ToMrs.Arbuthnot.]  We shall all miss Gerald so much, dearMrs. Arbuthnot.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  But has LordIllingworth really offered to make Gerald his secretary?

Lady Hunstanton.  Oh,yes!  He has been most charming about it.  He has thehighest possible opinion of your boy.  You don’t knowLord Illingworth, I believe, dear.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I have nevermet him.

Lady Hunstanton.  You know himby name, no doubt?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I am afraid Idon’t.  I live so much out of the world, and see sofew people.  I remember hearing years ago of an old LordIllingworth who lived in Yorkshire, I think.

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah,yes.  That would be the last Earl but one.  He was avery curious man.  He wanted to marry beneath him.  Orwouldn’t, I believe.  There was some scandal aboutit.  The present Lord Illingworth is quite different. He is very distinguished.  He does—well, he doesnothing, which I am afraid our pretty American visitor herethinks very wrong of anybody, and I don’t know that hecares much for the subjects in which you are so interested, dearMrs. Arbuthnot.  Do you think, Caroline, that LordIllingworth is interested in the Housing of the Poor?

Lady Caroline.  I should fancynot at all, Jane.

Lady Hunstanton.  We all haveour different tastes, have we not?  But Lord Illingworth hasa very high position, and there is nothing he couldn’t getif he chose to ask for it.  Of course, he is comparatively ayoung man still, and he has only come to his titlewithin—how long exactly is it, Caroline, since LordIllingworth succeeded?

Lady Caroline.  About fouryears, I think, Jane.  I know it was the same year in whichmy brother had his last exposure in the evening newspapers.

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah, Iremember.  That would be about four years ago.  Ofcourse, there were a great many people between the present LordIllingworth and the title, Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Therewas—who was there, Caroline?

Lady Caroline.  There was poorMargaret’s baby.  You remember how anxious she was tohave a boy, and it was a boy, but it died, and her husband diedshortly afterwards, and she married almost immediately one ofLord Ascot’s sons, who, I am told, beats her.

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah, that isin the family, dear, that is in the family.  And there wasalso, I remember, a clergyman who wanted to be a lunatic, or alunatic who wanted to be a clergyman, I forget which, but I knowthe Court of Chancery investigated the matter, and decided thathe was quite sane.  And I saw him afterwards at poor LordPlumstead’s with straws in his hair, or something very oddabout him.  I can’t recall what.  I often regret,Lady Caroline, that dear Lady Cecilia never lived to see her songet the title.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  LadyCecilia?

Lady Hunstanton.  LordIllingworth’s mother, dear Mrs. Arbuthnot, was one of theDuchess of Jerningham’s pretty daughters, and she marriedSir Thomas Harford, who wasn’t considered a very good matchfor her at the time, though he was said to be the handsomest manin London.  I knew them all quite intimately, and both thesons, Arthur and George.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  It was theeldest son who succeeded, of course, Lady Hunstanton?

Lady Hunstanton.  No, dear, hewas killed in the hunting field.  Or was it fishing,Caroline?  I forget.  But George came in foreverything.  I always tell him that no younger son has everhad such good luck as he has had.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  LadyHunstanton, I want to speak to Gerald at once.  Might I seehim?  Can he be sent for?

Lady Hunstanton.  Certainly,dear.  I will send one of the servants into the dining-roomto fetch him.  I don’t know what keeps the gentlemenso long.  [Rings bell.]  When I knew LordIllingworth first as plain George Harford, he was simply a verybrilliant young man about town, with not a penny of money exceptwhat poor dear Lady Cecilia gave him.  She was quite devotedto him.  Chiefly, I fancy, because he was on bad terms withhis father.  Oh, here is the dear Archdeacon.  [ToServant.]  It doesn’t matter.

[EnterSir John andDoctor Daubeny.  Sir John goes over toLady Stutfield, DoctorDaubeny toLadyHunstanton.]

The Archdeacon.  LordIllingworth has been most entertaining.  I have neverenjoyed myself more.  [SeesMrs.Arbuthnot.]  Ah, Mrs. Arbuthnot.

Lady Hunstanton.  [ToDoctor Daubeny.]  You see I havegot Mrs. Arbuthnot to come to me at last.

The Archdeacon.  That is agreat honour, Lady Hunstanton.  Mrs. Daubeny will be quitejealous of you.

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah, I am sosorry Mrs. Daubeny could not come with you to-night. Headache as usual, I suppose.

The Archdeacon.  Yes, LadyHunstanton; a perfect martyr.  But she is happiestalone.  She is happiest alone.

Lady Caroline.  [To herhusband.]  John!  [SirJohn goes over to his wife.  Doctor Daubeny talks toLady Hunstanton andMrs. Arbuthnot.]

[Mrs. Arbuthnot watches Lord Illingworth the whole time.  Hehas passed across the room without noticing her, and approachesMrs. Allonby, who with Lady Stutfield is standing by the doorlooking on to the terrace.]

Lord Illingworth.  How is themost charming woman in the world?

Mrs. Allonby.  [Taking Lady Stutfield by the hand.]  We areboth quite well, thank you, Lord Illingworth.  But what ashort time you have been in the dining-room!  It seems as ifwe had only just left.

Lord Illingworth.  I was boredto death.  Never opened my lips the whole time. Absolutely longing to come in to you.

Mrs. Allonby.  You shouldhave.  The American girl has been giving us a lecture.

Lord Illingworth. Really?  All Americans lecture, I believe.  I supposeit is something in their climate.  What did she lectureabout?

Mrs. Allonby.  Oh, Puritanism,of course.

Lord Illingworth.  I am goingto convert her, am I not?  How long do you give me?

Mrs. Allonby.  A week.

Lord Illingworth.  A week ismore than enough.

[EnterGerald andLord Alfred.]

Gerald.  [Going toMrs. Arbuthnot.]  Dearmother!

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Gerald, Idon’t feel at all well.  See me home, Gerald.  Ishouldn’t have come.

Gerald.  I am so sorry,mother.  Certainly.  But you must know Lord Illingworthfirst.  [Goes across room.]

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Not to-night,Gerald.

Gerald.  Lord Illingworth, Iwant you so much to know my mother.

Lord Illingworth.  With thegreatest pleasure.  [ToMrs.Allonby.]  I’ll be back in a moment. People’s mothers always bore me to death.  All womenbecome like their mothers.  That is their tragedy.

Mrs. Allonby.  No mandoes.  That is his.

Lord Illingworth.  What adelightful mood you are in to-night!  [Turns round andgoes across withGerald toMrs. Arbuthnot.  When he seesher, he starts back in wonder.  Then slowlyhis eyes turn towardsGerald.]

Gerald.  Mother, this is LordIllingworth, who has offered to take me as his privatesecretary.  [Mrs. Arbuthnotbows coldly.]  It is a wonderful opening for me,isn’t it?  I hope he won’t be disappointed inme, that is all.  You’ll thank Lord Illingworth,mother, won’t you?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  LordIllingworth is very good, I am sure, to interest himself in youfor the moment.

Lord Illingworth.  [Puttinghis hand onGerald’sshoulder.]  Oh, Gerald and I are great friendsalready, Mrs . . . Arbuthnot.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  There can benothing in common between you and my son, Lord Illingworth.

Gerald.  Dear mother, how canyou say so?  Of course Lord Illingworth is awfully cleverand that sort of thing.  There is nothing Lord Illingworthdoesn’t know.

Lord Illingworth.  My dearboy!

Gerald.  He knows more aboutlife than any one I have ever met.  I feel an awful dufferwhen I am with you, Lord Illingworth.  Of course, I have hadso few advantages.  I have not been to Eton or Oxford likeother chaps.  But Lord Illingworth doesn’t seem tomind that.  He has been awfully good to me, mother.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  LordIllingworth may change his mind.  He may not really want youas his secretary.

Gerald.  Mother!

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  You mustremember, as you said yourself, you have had so fewadvantages.

Mrs. Allonby.  LordIllingworth, I want to speak to you for a moment.  Do comeover.

Lord Illingworth.  Will youexcuse me, Mrs. Arbuthnot?  Now, don’t let yourcharming mother make any more difficulties, Gerald.  Thething is quite settled, isn’t it?

Gerald.  I hope so. [Lord Illingworth goes acrosstoMrs. Arbuthnot.]

Mrs. Allonby.  I thought youwere never going to leave the lady in black velvet.

Lord Illingworth.  She isexcessively handsome.  [Looks atMrs. Arbuthnot.]

Lady Hunstanton.  Caroline,shall we all make a move to the music-room?  Miss Worsley isgoing to play.  You’ll come too, dear Mrs. Arbuthnot,won’t you?  You don’t know what a treat is instore for you.  [ToDoctorDaubeny.]  I must really take Miss Worsley down someafternoon to the rectory.  I should so much like dear Mrs.Daubeny to hear her on the violin.  Ah, I forgot.  DearMrs. Daubeny’s hearing is a little defective, is itnot?

The Archdeacon.  Her deafnessis a great privation to her.  She can’t even hear mysermons now.  She reads them at home.  But she has manyresources in herself, many resources.

Lady Hunstanton.  She reads agood deal, I suppose?

The Archdeacon.  Just the verylargest print.  The eyesight is rapidly going.  Butshe’s never morbid, never morbid.

Gerald.  [ToLord Illingworth.]  Do speak to mymother, Lord Illingworth, before you go into themusic-room.  She seems to think, somehow, you don’tmean what you said to me.

Mrs. Allonby.  Aren’tyou coming?

Lord Illingworth.  In a fewmoments.  Lady Hunstanton, if Mrs. Arbuthnot would allow me,I would like to say a few words to her, and we will join youlater on.

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah, ofcourse.  You will have a great deal to say to her, and shewill have a great deal to thank you for.  It is not everyson who gets such an offer, Mrs. Arbuthnot.  But I know youappreciate that, dear.

Lady Caroline.  John!

Lady Hunstanton.  Now,don’t keep Mrs. Arbuthnot too long, Lord Illingworth. We can’t spare her.

[Exit following the other guests.  Sound ofviolin heard from music-room.]

Lord Illingworth.  So that isour son, Rachel!  Well, I am very proud of him.  He isa Harford, every inch of him.  By the way, why Arbuthnot,Rachel?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  One name isas good as another, when one has no right to any name.

Lord Illingworth.  I supposeso—but why Gerald?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  After a manwhose heart I broke—after my father.

Lord Illingworth.  Well,Rachel, what is over is over.  All I have got to say now inthat I am very, very much pleased with our boy.  The worldwill know him merely as my private secretary, but to me he willbe something very near, and very dear.  It is a curiousthing, Rachel; my life seemed to be quite complete.  It wasnot so.  It lacked something, it lacked a son.  I havefound my son now, I am glad I have found him.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  You have noright to claim him, or the smallest part of him.  The boy isentirely mine, and shall remain mine.

Lord Illingworth.  My dearRachel, you have had him to yourself for over twenty years. Why not let me have him for a little now?  He is quite asmuch mine as yours.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Are youtalking of the child you abandoned?  Of the child who, asfar as you are concerned, might have died of hunger and ofwant?

Lord Illingworth.  You forget,Rachel, it was you who left me.  It was not I who leftyou.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I left youbecause you refused to give the child a name.  Before my sonwas born, I implored you to marry me.

Lord Illingworth.  I had noexpectations then.  And besides, Rachel, I wasn’t mucholder than you were.  I was only twenty-two.  I wastwenty-one, I believe, when the whole thing began in yourfather’s garden.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  When a man isold enough to do wrong he should be old enough to do rightalso.

Lord Illingworth.  My dearRachel, intellectual generalities are always interesting, butgeneralities in morals mean absolutely nothing.  As forsaying I left our child to starve, that, of course, is untrue andsilly.  My mother offered you six hundred a year.  Butyou wouldn’t take anything.  You simply disappeared,and carried the child away with you.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Iwouldn’t have accepted a penny from her.  Your fatherwas different.  He told you, in my presence, when we were inParis, that it was your duty to marry me.

Lord Illingworth.  Oh, duty iswhat one expects from others, it is not what one doesoneself.  Of course, I was influenced by my mother. Every man is when he is young.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I am glad tohear you say so.  Gerald shall certainly not go away withyou.

Lord Illingworth.  Whatnonsense, Rachel!

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Do you thinkI would allow my son—

Lord Illingworth.  Ourson.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  My son [Lord Illingworth shrugs hisshoulders]—to go away with the man who spoiled myyouth, who ruined my life, who has tainted every moment of mydays?  You don’t realise what my past has been insuffering and in shame.

Lord Illingworth.  My dearRachel, I must candidly say that I think Gerald’s futureconsiderably more important than your past.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Gerald cannotseparate his future from my past.

Lord Illingworth.  That isexactly what he should do.  That is exactly what you shouldhelp him to do.  What a typical woman you are!  Youtalk sentimentally, and you are thoroughly selfish the wholetime.  But don’t let us have a scene.  Rachel, Iwant you to look at this matter from the common-sense point ofview, from the point of view of what is best for our son, leavingyou and me out of the question.  What is our son atpresent?  An underpaid clerk in a small Provincial Bank in athird-rate English town.  If you imagine he is quite happyin such a position, you are mistaken.  He is thoroughlydiscontented.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  He was notdiscontented till he met you.  You have made him so.

Lord Illingworth.  Of course,I made him so.  Discontent is the first step in the progressof a man or a nation.  But I did not leave him with a merelonging for things he could not get.  No, I made him acharming offer.  He jumped at it, I need hardly say. Any young man would.  And now, simply because it turns outthat I am the boy’s own father and he my own son, youpropose practically to ruin his career.  That is to say, ifI were a perfect stranger, you would allow Gerald to go away withme, but as he is my own flesh and blood you won’t. How utterly illogical you are!

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I will notallow him to go.

Lord Illingworth.  How can youprevent it?  What excuse can you give to him for making himdecline such an offer as mine?  I won’t tell him inwhat relations I stand to him, I need hardly say.  But youdaren’t tell him.  You know that.  Look how youhave brought him up.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I havebrought him up to be a good man.

Lord Illingworth.  Quiteso.  And what is the result?  You have educated him tobe your judge if he ever finds you out.  And a bitter, anunjust judge he will be to you.  Don’t be deceived,Rachel.  Children begin by loving their parents.  Aftera time they judge them.  Rarely, if ever, do they forgivethem.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  George,don’t take my son away from me.  I have had twentyyears of sorrow, and I have only had one thing to love me, onlyone thing to love.  You have had a life of joy, andpleasure, and success.  You have been quite happy, you havenever thought of us.  There was no reason, according to yourviews of life, why you should have remembered us at all. Your meeting us was a mere accident, a horrible accident. Forget it.  Don’t come now, and rob me of . . . of allI have in the whole world.  You are so rich in otherthings.  Leave me the little vineyard of my life; leave methe walled-in garden and the well of water; the ewe-lamb God sentme, in pity or in wrath, oh! leave me that.  George,don’t take Gerald from me.

Lord Illingworth.  Rachel, atthe present moment you are not necessary to Gerald’scareer; I am.  There is nothing more to be said on thesubject.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I will notlet him go.

Lord Illingworth.  Here isGerald.  He has a right to decide for himself.

[EnterGerald.]

Gerald.  Well, dear mother, Ihope you have settled it all with Lord Illingworth?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I have not,Gerald.

Lord Illingworth.  Your motherseems not to like your coming with me, for some reason.

Gerald.  Why, mother?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I thought youwere quite happy here with me, Gerald.  I didn’t knowyou were so anxious to leave me.

Gerald.  Mother, how can youtalk like that?  Of course I have been quite happy withyou.  But a man can’t stay always with hismother.  No chap does.  I want to make myself aposition, to do something.  I thought you would have beenproud to see me Lord Illingworth’s secretary.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I do notthink you would be suitable as a private secretary to LordIllingworth.  You have no qualifications.

Lord Illingworth.  Idon’t wish to seem to interfere for a moment, Mrs.Arbuthnot, but as far as your last objection is concerned, Isurely am the best judge.  And I can only tell you that yourson has all the qualifications I had hoped for.  He hasmore, in fact, than I had even thought of.  Far more. [Mrs. Arbuthnot remainssilent.]  Have you any other reason, Mrs. Arbuthnot, whyyou don’t wish your son to accept this post?

Gerald.  Have you,mother?  Do answer.

Lord Illingworth.  If youhave, Mrs. Arbuthnot, pray, pray say it.  We are quite byourselves here.  Whatever it is, I need not say I will notrepeat it.

Gerald.  Mother?

Lord Illingworth.  If youwould like to be alone with your son, I will leave you.  Youmay have some other reason you don’t wish me to hear.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I have noother reason.

Lord Illingworth.  Then, mydear boy, we may look on the thing as settled.  Come, youand I will smoke a cigarette on the terrace together.  AndMrs. Arbuthnot, pray let me tell you, that I think you have actedvery, very wisely.

[Exit withGerald. Mrs. Arbuthnot is leftalone.  She stands immobile with a look ofunutterable sorrow on her face.]

ActDrop

THIRD ACT

SCENE

The Picture Gallery atHunstanton.  Door at back leading on toterrace.

[Lord Illingworth andGerald, R.C.  LordIllingworth lolling on a sofa.  Gerald in a chair.]

Lord Illingworth.  Thoroughlysensible woman, your mother, Gerald.  I knew she would comeround in the end.

Gerald.  My mother is awfullyconscientious, Lord Illingworth, and I know she doesn’tthink I am educated enough to be your secretary.  She isperfectly right, too.  I was fearfully idle when I was atschool, and I couldn’t pass an examination now to save mylife.

Lord Illingworth.  My dearGerald, examinations are of no value whatsoever.  If a manis a gentleman, he knows quite enough, and if he is not agentleman, whatever he knows is bad for him.

Gerald.  But I am so ignorantof the world, Lord Illingworth.

Lord Illingworth.  Don’tbe afraid, Gerald.  Remember that you’ve got on yourside the most wonderful thing in the world—youth! There is nothing like youth.  The middle-aged are mortgagedto Life.  The old are in life’s lumber-room.  Butyouth is the Lord of Life.  Youth has a kingdom waiting forit.  Every one is born a king, and most people die in exile,like most kings.  To win back my youth, Gerald, there isnothing I wouldn’t do—except take exercise, get upearly, or be a useful member of the community.

Gerald.  But you don’tcall yourself old, Lord Illingworth?

Lord Illingworth.  I am oldenough to be your father, Gerald.

Gerald.  I don’tremember my father; he died years ago.

Lord Illingworth.  So LadyHunstanton told me.

Gerald.  It is very curious,my mother never talks to me about my father.  I sometimesthink she must have married beneath her.

Lord Illingworth.  [Wincesslightly.]  Really?  [Goes over and puts hishand onGerald’sshoulder.]  You have missed not having a father, Isuppose, Gerald?

Gerald.  Oh, no; my mother hasbeen so good to me.  No one ever had such a mother as I havehad.

Lord Illingworth.  I am quitesure of that.  Still I should imagine that most mothersdon’t quite understand their sons.  Don’trealise, I mean, that a son has ambitions, a desire to see life,to make himself a name.  After all, Gerald, youcouldn’t be expected to pass all your life in such a holeas Wrockley, could you?

Gerald.  Oh, no!  Itwould be dreadful!

Lord Illingworth.  Amother’s love is very touching, of course, but it is oftencuriously selfish.  I mean, there is a good deal ofselfishness in it.

Gerald. [Slowly.]  I suppose there is.

Lord Illingworth.  Your motheris a thoroughly good woman.  But good women have suchlimited views of life, their horizon is so small, their interestsare so petty, aren’t they?

Gerald.  They are awfullyinterested, certainly, in things we don’t care muchabout.

Lord Illingworth.  I supposeyour mother is very religious, and that sort of thing.

Gerald.  Oh, yes, she’salways going to church.

Lord Illingworth.  Ah! she isnot modern, and to be modern is the only thing worth beingnowadays.  You want to be modern, don’t you,Gerald?  You want to know life as it really is.  Not tobe put off with any old-fashioned theories about life.  Well,what you have to do at present is simply to fit yourself for thebest society.  A man who can dominate a London dinner-tablecan dominate the world.  The future belongs to thedandy.  It is the exquisites who are going to rule.

Gerald.  I should like to wearnice things awfully, but I have always been told that a manshould not think too much about his clothes.

Lord Illingworth.  Peoplenowadays are so absolutely superficial that they don’tunderstand the philosophy of the superficial.  By the way,Gerald, you should learn how to tie your tie better. Sentiment is all very well for the button-hole.  But theessential thing for a necktie is style.  A well-tied tie isthe first serious step in life.

Gerald. [Laughing.]  I might be able to learn how to tie atie, Lord Illingworth, but I should never be able to talk as youdo.  I don’t know how to talk.

Lord Illingworth.  Oh! talk toevery woman as if you loved her, and to every man as if he boredyou, and at the end of your first season you will have thereputation of possessing the most perfect social tact.

Gerald.  But it is verydifficult to get into society isn’t it?

Lord Illingworth.  To get intothe best society, nowadays, one has either to feed people, amusepeople, or shock people—that is all!

Gerald.  I suppose society iswonderfully delightful!

Lord Illingworth.  To be in itis merely a bore.  But to be out of it simply atragedy.  Society is a necessary thing.  No man has anyreal success in this world unless he has got women to back him,and women rule society.  If you have not got women on yourside you are quite over.  You might just as well be abarrister, or a stockbroker, or a journalist at once.

Gerald.  It is very difficultto understand women, is it not?

Lord Illingworth.  You shouldnever try to understand them.  Women are pictures.  Menare problems.  If you want to know what a woman reallymeans—which, by the way, is always a dangerous thing todo—look at her, don’t listen to her.

Gerald.  But women are awfullyclever, aren’t they?

Lord Illingworth.  One shouldalways tell them so.  But, to the philosopher, my dearGerald, women represent the triumph of matter overmind—just as men represent the triumph of mind overmorals.

Gerald.  How then can womenhave so much power as you say they have?

Lord Illingworth.  The historyof women is the history of the worst form of tyranny the worldhas ever known.  The tyranny of the weak over thestrong.  It is the only tyranny that lasts.

Gerald.  But haven’twomen got a refining influence?

Lord Illingworth.  Nothingrefines but the intellect.

Gerald.  Still, there are manydifferent kinds of women, aren’t there?

Lord Illingworth.  Only twokinds in society: the plain and the coloured.

Gerald.  But there are goodwomen in society, aren’t there?

Lord Illingworth.  Far toomany.

Gerald.  But do you thinkwomen shouldn’t be good?

Lord Illingworth.  One shouldnever tell them so, they’d all become good at once. Women are a fascinatingly wilful sex.  Every woman is arebel, and usually in wild revolt against herself.

Gerald.  You have never beenmarried, Lord Illingworth, have you?

Lord Illingworth.  Men marrybecause they are tired; women because they are curious. Both are disappointed.

Gerald.  But don’t youthink one can be happy when one is married?

Lord Illingworth.  Perfectlyhappy.  But the happiness of a married man, my dear Gerald,depends on the people he has not married.

Gerald.  But if one is inlove?

Lord Illingworth.  One shouldalways be in love.  That is the reason one should nevermarry.

Gerald.  Love is a verywonderful thing, isn’t it?

Lord Illingworth.  When one isin love one begins by deceiving oneself.  And one ends bydeceiving others.  That is what the world calls aromance.  But a really grande passioniscomparatively rare nowadays.  It is the privilege of peoplewho have nothing to do.  That is the one use of the idleclasses in a country, and the only possible explanation of usHarfords.

Gerald.  Harfords, LordIllingworth?

Lord Illingworth.  That is myfamily name.  You should study the Peerage, Gerald.  Itis the one book a young man about town should know thoroughly,and it is the best thing in fiction the English have everdone.  And now, Gerald, you are going into a perfectly newlife with me, and I want you to know how to live.  [Mrs. Arbuthnot appears on terracebehind.]  For the world has been made by fools that wisemen should live in it!

[EnterL.C. Lady HunstantonandDr. Daubeny.]

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah! here youare, dear Lord Illingworth.  Well, I suppose you have beentelling our young friend, Gerald, what his new duties are to be,and giving him a great deal of good advice over a pleasantcigarette.

Lord Illingworth.  I have beengiving him the best of advice, Lady Hunstanton, and the best ofcigarettes.

Lady Hunstanton.  I am sosorry I was not here to listen to you, but I suppose I am too oldnow to learn.  Except from you, dear Archdeacon, when youare in your nice pulpit.  But then I always know what youare going to say, so I don’t feel alarmed. [SeesMrs. Arbuthnot.] Ah! dear Mrs. Arbuthnot, do come and join us.  Come,dear.  [EnterMrs.Arbuthnot.]  Gerald has been having such a long talkwith Lord Illingworth; I am sure you must feel very muchflattered at the pleasant way in which everything has turned outfor him.  Let us sit down.  [They sitdown.]  And how is your beautiful embroidery goingon?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I am alwaysat work, Lady Hunstanton.

Lady Hunstanton.  Mrs. Daubenyembroiders a little, too, doesn’t she?

The Archdeacon.  She was verydeft with her needle once, quite a Dorcas.  But the gout hascrippled her fingers a good deal.  She has not touched thetambour frame for nine or ten years.  But she has many otheramusements.  She is very much interested in her ownhealth.

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah! that isalways a nice distraction, is it not?  Now, what are youtalking about, Lord Illingworth?  Do tell us.

Lord Illingworth.  I was onthe point of explaining to Gerald that the world has alwayslaughed at its own tragedies, that being the only way in which ithas been able to bear them.  And that, consequently,whatever the world has treated seriously belongs to the comedyside of things.

Lady Hunstanton.  Now I amquite out of my depth.  I usually am when Lord Illingworthsays anything.  And the Humane Society is mostcareless.  They never rescue me.  I am left tosink.  I have a dim idea, dear Lord Illingworth, that youare always on the side of the sinners, and I know I always try tobe on the side of the saints, but that is as far as I get. And after all, it may be merely the fancy of a drowningperson.

Lord Illingworth.  The onlydifference between the saint and the sinner is that every sainthas a past, and every sinner has a future.

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah! thatquite does for me.  I haven’t a word to say.  Youand I, dear Mrs. Arbuthnot, are behind the age.  Wecan’t follow Lord Illingworth.  Too much care wastaken with our education, I am afraid.  To have been wellbrought up is a great drawback nowadays.  It shuts one outfrom so much.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I should besorry to follow Lord Illingworth in any of his opinions.

Lady Hunstanton.  You arequite right, dear.

[Gerald shrugs his shoulders andlooks irritably over at his mother.  EnterLady Caroline.]

Lady Caroline.  Jane, have youseen John anywhere?

Lady Hunstanton.  Youneedn’t be anxious about him, dear.  He is with LadyStutfield; I saw them some time ago, in the YellowDrawing-room.  They seem quite happy together.  You arenot going, Caroline?  Pray sit down.

Lady Caroline.  I think I hadbetter look after John.

[ExitLady Caroline.]

Lady Hunstanton.  Itdoesn’t do to pay men so much attention.  And Carolinehas really nothing to be anxious about.  Lady Stutfield isvery sympathetic.  She is just as sympathetic about onething as she is about another.  A beautiful nature.

[EnterSir John andMrs. Allonby.]

Ah! here is Sir John!  And with Mrs. Allonby too!  Isuppose it was Mrs. Allonby I saw him with.  Sir John,Caroline has been looking everywhere for you.

Mrs. Allonby.  We have beenwaiting for her in the Music-room, dear Lady Hunstanton.

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah! theMusic-room, of course.  I thought it was the YellowDrawing-room, my memory is getting so defective.  [TotheArchdeacon.]  Mrs.Daubeny has a wonderful memory, hasn’t she?

The Archdeacon.  She used tobe quite remarkable for her memory, but since her last attack sherecalls chiefly the events of her early childhood.  But shefinds great pleasure in such retrospections, great pleasure.

[EnterLady StutfieldandMr. Kelvil.]

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah! dearLady Stutfield! and what has Mr. Kelvil been talking to youabout?

Lady Stutfield.  AboutBimetallism, as well as I remember.

Lady Hunstanton. Bimetallism!  Is that quite a nice subject?  However, Iknow people discuss everything very freely nowadays.  Whatdid Sir John talk to you about, dear Mrs. Allonby?

Mrs. Allonby.  AboutPatagonia.

Lady Hunstanton. Really?  What a remote topic!  But very improving, Ihave no doubt.

Mrs. Allonby.  He has beenmost interesting on the subject of Patagonia.  Savages seemto have quite the same views as cultured people on almost allsubjects.  They are excessively advanced.

Lady Hunstanton.  What do theydo?

Mrs. Allonby.  Apparentlyeverything.

Lady Hunstanton.  Well, it isvery gratifying, dear Archdeacon, is it not, to find that HumanNature is permanently one.—On the whole, the world is thesame world, is it not?

Lord Illingworth.  The worldis simply divided into two classes—those who believe theincredible, like the public—and those who do theimprobable—

Mrs. Allonby.  Likeyourself?

Lord Illingworth.  Yes; I amalways astonishing myself.  It is the only thing that makeslife worth living.

Lady Stutfield.  And what haveyou been doing lately that astonishes you?

Lord Illingworth.  I have beendiscovering all kinds of beautiful qualities in my ownnature.

Mrs. Allonby.  Ah! don’tbecome quite perfect all at once.  Do it gradually!

Lord Illingworth.  Idon’t intend to grow perfect at all.  At least, I hopeI shan’t.  It would be most inconvenient.  Womenlove us for our defects.  If we have enough of them, theywill forgive us everything, even our gigantic intellects.

Mrs. Allonby.  It is prematureto ask us to forgive analysis.  We forgive adoration; thatis quite as much as should be expected from us.

[EnterLord Alfred. He joinsLady Stutfield.]

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah! we womenshould forgive everything, shouldn’t we, dear Mrs.Arbuthnot?  I am sure you agree with me in that.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I do not,Lady Hunstanton.  I think there are many things women shouldnever forgive.

Lady Hunstanton.  What sort ofthings?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  The ruin ofanother woman’s life.

[Moves slowly away to back of stage.]

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah! thosethings are very sad, no doubt, but I believe there are admirablehomes where people of that kind are looked after and reformed,and I think on the whole that the secret of life is to takethings very, very easily.

Mrs. Allonby.  The secret oflife is never to have an emotion that is unbecoming.

Lady Stutfield.  The secret oflife is to appreciate the pleasure of being terribly, terriblydeceived.

Kelvil.  The secret of life isto resist temptation, Lady Stutfield.

Lord Illingworth.  There is nosecret of life.  Life’s aim, if it has one, is simplyto be always looking for temptations.  There are not nearlyenough.  I sometimes pass a whole day without coming acrossa single one.  It is quite dreadful.  It makes one sonervous about the future.

Lady Hunstanton.  [Shakesher fan at him.]  I don’t know how it is, dearLord Illingworth, but everything you have said to-day seems to meexcessively immoral.  It has been most interesting,listening to you.

Lord Illingworth.  All thoughtis immoral.  Its very essence is destruction.  If youthink of anything, you kill it.  Nothing survives beingthought of.

Lady Hunstanton.  Idon’t understand a word, Lord Illingworth.  But I haveno doubt it is all quite true.  Personally, I have verylittle to reproach myself with, on the score of thinking.  Idon’t believe in women thinking too much.  Womenshould think in moderation, as they should do all things inmoderation.

Lord Illingworth.  Moderationis a fatal thing, Lady Hunstanton.  Nothing succeeds likeexcess.

Lady Hunstanton.  I hope Ishall remember that.  It sounds an admirable maxim. But I’m beginning to forget everything.  It’s agreat misfortune.

Lord Illingworth.  It is oneof your most fascinating qualities, Lady Hunstanton.  Nowoman should have a memory.  Memory in a woman is thebeginning of dowdiness.  One can always tell from awoman’s bonnet whether she has got a memory or not.

Lady Hunstanton.  How charmingyou are, dear Lord Illingworth.  You always find out thatone’s most glaring fault is one’s most importantvirtue.  You have the most comforting views of life.

[EnterFarquhar.]

Farquhar.  DoctorDaubeny’s carriage!

Lady Hunstanton.  My dearArchdeacon!  It is only half-past ten.

The Archdeacon. [Rising.]  I am afraid I must go, LadyHunstanton.  Tuesday is always one of Mrs. Daubeny’sbad nights.

Lady Hunstanton. [Rising.]  Well, I won’t keep you fromher.  [Goes with him towards door.]  I have toldFarquhar to put a brace of partridge into the carriage. Mrs. Daubeny may fancy them.

The Archdeacon.  It is verykind of you, but Mrs. Daubeny never touches solids now. Lives entirely on jellies.  But she is wonderfully cheerful,wonderfully cheerful.  She has nothing to complain of.

[Exit withLadyHunstanton.]

Mrs. Allonby.  [Goes overtoLord Illingworth.]  Thereis a beautiful moon to-night.

Lord Illingworth.  Let us goand look at it.  To look at anything that is inconstant ischarming nowadays.

Mrs. Allonby.  You have yourlooking-glass.

Lord Illingworth.  It isunkind.  It merely shows me my wrinkles.

Mrs. Allonby.  Mine is betterbehaved.  It never tells me the truth.

Lord Illingworth.  Then it isin love with you.

[ExeuntSir John, Lady Stutfield, Mr.Kelvil andLordAlfred.]

Gerald.  [ToLord Illingworth]  May I come too?

Lord Illingworth.  Do, my dearboy.  [Moves towards door withMrs.Allonby andGerald.]

[Lady Caroline enters,looks rapidly round and goes off in opposite direction to thattaken bySir John andLady Stutfield.]

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Gerald!

Gerald.  What, mother!

[ExitLord IllingworthwithMrs. Allonby.]

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  It is gettinglate.  Let us go home.

Gerald.  My dear mother. Do let us wait a little longer.  Lord Illingworth is sodelightful, and, by the way, mother, I have a great surprise foryou.  We are starting for India at the end of thismonth.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Let us gohome.

Gerald.  If you really wantto, of course, mother, but I must bid good-bye to LordIllingworth first.  I’ll be back in fiveminutes.  [Exit.]

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Let him leaveme if he chooses, but not with him—not with him!  Icouldn’t bear it.  [Walks up and down.]

[EnterHester.]

Hester.  What a lovely nightit is, Mrs. Arbuthnot.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Is it?

Hester.  Mrs. Arbuthnot, Iwish you would let us be friends.  You are so different fromthe other women here.  When you came into the Drawing-roomthis evening, somehow you brought with you a sense of what isgood and pure in life.  I had been foolish.  There arethings that are right to say, but that may be said at the wrongtime and to the wrong people.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I heard whatyou said.  I agree with it, Miss Worsley.

Hester.  I didn’t knowyou had heard it.  But I knew you would agree with me. A woman who has sinned should be punished, shouldn’tshe?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Yes.

Hester.  She shouldn’tbe allowed to come into the society of good men and women?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  She shouldnot.

Hester.  And the man should bepunished in the same way?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  In the sameway.  And the children, if there are children, in the sameway also?

Hester.  Yes, it is right thatthe sins of the parents should be visited on the children. It is a just law.  It is God’s law.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  It is one ofGod’s terrible laws.

[Moves away to fireplace.]

Hester.  You are distressedabout your son leaving you, Mrs. Arbuthnot?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Yes.

Hester.  Do you like him goingaway with Lord Illingworth?  Of course there is position, nodoubt, and money, but position and money are not everything, arethey?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  They arenothing; they bring misery.

Hester.  Then why do you letyour son go with him?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  He wishes ithimself.

Hester.  But if you asked himhe would stay, would he not?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  He has sethis heart on going.

Hester.  He couldn’trefuse you anything.  He loves you too much.  Ask himto stay.  Let me send him in to you.  He is on theterrace at this moment with Lord Illingworth.  I heard themlaughing together as I passed through the Music-room.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Don’ttrouble, Miss Worsley, I can wait.  It is of noconsequence.

Hester.  No, I’ll tellhim you want him.  Do—do ask him to stay. [ExitHester.]

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Hewon’t come—I know he won’t come.

[Enter Lady Caroline.  Shelooks round anxiously.  EnterGerald.]

Lady Caroline.  Mr. Arbuthnot,may I ask you is Sir John anywhere on the terrace?

Gerald.  No, Lady Caroline, heis not on the terrace.

Lady Caroline.  It is verycurious.  It is time for him to retire.

[ExitLady Caroline.]

Gerald.  Dear mother, I amafraid I kept you waiting.  I forgot all about it.  Iam so happy to-night, mother; I have never been so happy.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  At theprospect of going away?

Gerald.  Don’t put itlike that, mother.  Of course I am sorry to leave you. Why, you are the best mother in the whole world.  But afterall, as Lord Illingworth says, it is impossible to live in such aplace as Wrockley.  You don’t mind it.  ButI’m ambitious; I want something more than that.  Iwant to have a career.  I want to do something that willmake you proud of me, and Lord Illingworth is going to helpme.  He is going to do everything for me.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Gerald,don’t go away with Lord Illingworth.  I implore younot to.  Gerald, I beg you!

Gerald.  Mother, howchangeable you are!  You don’t seem to know your ownmind for a single moment.  An hour and a half ago in theDrawing-room you agreed to the whole thing; now you turn roundand make objections, and try to force me to give up my one chancein life.  Yes, my one chance.  You don’t supposethat men like Lord Illingworth are to be found every day, do you,mother?  It is very strange that when I have had such awonderful piece of good luck, the one person to put difficultiesin my way should be my own mother.  Besides, you know,mother, I love Hester Worsley.  Who could help lovingher?  I love her more than I have ever told you, farmore.  And if I had a position, if I had prospects, Icould—I could ask her to—Don’t you understandnow, mother, what it means to me to be Lord Illingworth’ssecretary?  To start like that is to find a career ready forone—before one—waiting for one.  If I were LordIllingworth’s secretary I could ask Hester to be mywife.  As a wretched bank clerk with a hundred a year itwould be an impertinence.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I fear youneed have no hopes of Miss Worsley.  I know her views onlife.  She has just told them to me.  [Apause.]

Gerald.  Then I have myambition left, at any rate.  That is something—I amglad I have that!  You have always tried to crush myambition, mother—haven’t you?  You have told methat the world is a wicked place, that success is not worthhaving, that society is shallow, and all that sort ofthing—well, I don’t believe it, mother.  I thinkthe world must be delightful.  I think society must beexquisite.  I think success is a thing worth having. You have been wrong in all that you taught me, mother, quitewrong.  Lord Illingworth is a successful man.  He is afashionable man.  He is a man who lives in the world and forit.  Well, I would give anything to be just like LordIllingworth.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I wouldsooner see you dead.

Gerald.  Mother, what is yourobjection to Lord Illingworth?  Tell me—tell me rightout.  What is it?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  He is a badman.

Gerald.  In what waybad?  I don’t understand what you mean.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I will tellyou.

Gerald.  I suppose you thinkhim bad, because he doesn’t believe the same things as youdo.  Well, men are different from women, mother.  It isnatural that they should have different views.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  It is notwhat Lord Illingworth believes, or what he does not believe, thatmakes him bad.  It is what he is.

Gerald.  Mother, is itsomething you know of him?  Something you actually know?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  It issomething I know.

Gerald.  Something you arequite sure of?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Quite sureof.

Gerald.  How long have youknown it?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  For twentyyears.

Gerald.  Is it fair to go backtwenty years in any man’s career?  And what have youor I to do with Lord Illingworth’s early life?  Whatbusiness is it of ours?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  What this manhas been, he is now, and will be always.

Gerald.  Mother, tell me whatLord Illingworth did?  If he did anything shameful, I willnot go away with him.  Surely you know me well enough forthat?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Gerald, comenear to me.  Quite close to me, as you used to do when youwere a little boy, when you were mother’s own boy. [Gerald sits down beside hismother.  She runs her fingers through his hair,and strokes his hands.]  Gerald, there was a girlonce, she was very young, she was little over eighteen at thetime.  George Harford—that was LordIllingworth’s name then—George Harford met her. She knew nothing about life.  He—kneweverything.  He made this girl love him.  He made herlove him so much that she left her father’s house with himone morning.  She loved him so much, and he had promised tomarry her!  He had solemnly promised to marry her, and shehad believed him.  She was very young, and—andignorant of what life really is.  But he put the marriageoff from week to week, and month to month.—She trusted inhim all the while.  She loved him.—Before her childwas born—for she had a child—she implored him for thechild’s sake to marry her, that the child might have aname, that her sin might not be visited on the child, who wasinnocent.  He refused.  After the child was born sheleft him, taking the child away, and her life was ruined, and hersoul ruined, and all that was sweet, and good, and pure in herruined also.  She suffered terribly—she suffersnow.  She will always suffer.  For her there is no joy,no peace, no atonement.  She is a woman who drags a chainlike a guilty thing.  She is a woman who wears a mask, likea thing that is a leper.  The fire cannot purify her. The waters cannot quench her anguish.  Nothing can heal her!no anodyne can give her sleep! no poppies forgetfulness! She is lost!  She is a lost soul!—That is why I callLord Illingworth a bad man.  That is why I don’t wantmy boy to be with him.

Gerald.  My dear mother, itall sounds very tragic, of course.  But I dare say the girlwas just as much to blame as Lord Illingworth was.—Afterall, would a really nice girl, a girl with any nice feelings atall, go away from her home with a man to whom she was notmarried, and live with him as his wife?  No nice girlwould.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  [After apause.]  Gerald, I withdraw all my objections.  Youare at liberty to go away with Lord Illingworth, when and whereyou choose.

Gerald.  Dear mother, I knewyou wouldn’t stand in my way.  You are the best womanGod ever made.  And, as for Lord Illingworth, I don’tbelieve he is capable of anything infamous or base.  Ican’t believe it of him—I can’t.

Hester. [Outside.]  Let me go!  Let me go! [EnterHester in terror,and rushes over toGeraldand flings herself in his arms.]

Hester.  Oh! saveme—save me from him!

Gerald.  From whom?

Hester.  He has insultedme!  Horribly insulted me!  Save me!

Gerald.  Who?  Who hasdared—?

[Lord Illingworth enters at backof stage.  Hester breaksfromGerald’s arms andpoints to him.]

Gerald  [He is quite besidehimself with rage and indignation.]  Lord Illingworth,you have insulted the purest thing on God’s earth, a thingas pure as my own mother.  You have insulted the woman Ilove most in the world with my own mother.  As there is aGod in Heaven, I will kill you!

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  [Rushingacross and catching hold of him]  No! no!

Gerald.  [Thrusting herback.]  Don’t hold me, mother.  Don’thold me—I’ll kill him!

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Gerald!

Gerald.  Let me go, I say!

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Stop, Gerald,stop!  He is your own father!

[Gerald clutches hismother’s hands and looks into her face.  Shesinks slowly on the ground in shame.  Hester steals towards the door. Lord Illingworth frowns and biteshis lip.  After a timeGerald raises his mother up, putshis arm round her, and leads her from the room.]

ActDrop

FOURTH ACT

SCENE

Sitting-room at Mrs. Arbuthnot’s.  Largeopen French window at back, looking on togarden.  DoorsR.C. andL.C.

[Gerald Arbuthnot writing attable.]

[EnterAlice R.C.followed byLady HunstantonandMrs. Allonby.]

Alice.  Lady Hunstanton andMrs. Allonby.

[ExitL.C.]

Lady Hunstanton.  Goodmorning, Gerald.

Gerald. [Rising.]  Good morning, Lady Hunstanton.  Goodmorning, Mrs. Allonby.

Lady Hunstanton.  [Sittingdown.]  We came to inquire for your dear mother,Gerald.  I hope she is better?

Gerald.  My mother has notcome down yet, Lady Hunstanton.

Lady Hunstanton.  Ah, I amafraid the heat was too much for her last night.  I thinkthere must have been thunder in the air.  Or perhaps it wasthe music.  Music makes one feel so romantic—at leastit always gets on one’s nerves.

Mrs. Allonby.  It’s thesame thing, nowadays.

Lady Hunstanton.  I am so gladI don’t know what you mean, dear.  I am afraid youmean something wrong.  Ah, I see you’re examining Mrs.Arbuthnot’s pretty room.  Isn’t it nice andold-fashioned?

Mrs. Allonby.  [Surveyingthe room through her lorgnette.]  It looks quite thehappy English home.

Lady Hunstanton.  That’sjust the word, dear; that just describes it.  One feels yourmother’s good influence in everything she has about her,Gerald.

Mrs. Allonby.  LordIllingworth says that all influence is bad, but that a goodinfluence is the worst in the world.

Lady Hunstanton.  When LordIllingworth knows Mrs. Arbuthnot better he will change hismind.  I must certainly bring him here.

Mrs. Allonby.  I should liketo see Lord Illingworth in a happy English home.

Lady Hunstanton.  It would dohim a great deal of good, dear.  Most women in London,nowadays, seem to furnish their rooms with nothing but orchids,foreigners, and French novels.  But here we have the room ofa sweet saint.  Fresh natural flowers, books thatdon’t shock one, pictures that one can look at withoutblushing.

Mrs. Allonby.  But I likeblushing.

Lady Hunstanton.  Well, thereisa good deal to be said for blushing, if one can do itat the proper moment.  Poor dear Hunstanton used to tell meI didn’t blush nearly often enough.  But then he wasso very particular.  He wouldn’t let me know any ofhis men friends, except those who were over seventy, like poorLord Ashton: who afterwards, by the way, was brought into theDivorce Court.  A most unfortunate case.

Mrs. Allonby.  I delight inmen over seventy.  They always offer one the devotion of alifetime.  I think seventy an ideal age for a man.

Lady Hunstanton.  She is quiteincorrigible, Gerald, isn’t she?  By-the-by, Gerald, Ihope your dear mother will come and see me more often now. You and Lord Illingworth start almost immediately, don’tyou?

Gerald.  I have given up myintention of being Lord Illingworth’s secretary.

Lady Hunstanton.  Surely not,Gerald!  It would be most unwise of you.  What reasoncan you have?

Gerald.  I don’t think Ishould be suitable for the post.

Mrs. Allonby.  I wish LordIllingworth would ask me to be his secretary.  But he says Iam not serious enough.

Lady Hunstanton.  My dear, youreally mustn’t talk like that in this house.  Mrs.Arbuthnot doesn’t know anything about the wicked society inwhich we all live.  She won’t go into it.  She isfar too good.  I consider it was a great honour her comingto me last night.  It gave quite an atmosphere ofrespectability to the party.

Mrs. Allonby.  Ah, that musthave been what you thought was thunder in the air.

Lady Hunstanton.  My dear, howcan you say that?  There is no resemblance between the twothings at all.  But really, Gerald, what do you mean by notbeing suitable?

Gerald.  LordIllingworth’s views of life and mine are too different.

Lady Hunstanton.  But, my dearGerald, at your age you shouldn’t have any views oflife.  They are quite out of place.  You must be guidedby others in this matter.  Lord Illingworth has made you themost flattering offer, and travelling with him you would see theworld—as much of it, at least, as one should lookat—under the best auspices possible, and stay with all theright people, which is so important at this solemn moment in yourcareer.

Gerald.  I don’t want tosee the world: I’ve seen enough of it.

Mrs. Allonby.  I hope youdon’t think you have exhausted life, Mr. Arbuthnot. When a man says that, one knows that life has exhausted him.

Gerald.  I don’t wish toleave my mother.

Lady Hunstanton.  Now, Gerald,that is pure laziness on your part.  Not leave yourmother!  If I were your mother I would insist on yourgoing.

[EnterAlice L.C.]

Alice.  Mrs. Arbuthnot’scompliments, my lady, but she has a bad headache, and cannot seeany one this morning.  [ExitR.C.]

Lady Hunstanton. [Rising.]  A bad headache!  I am so sorry! Perhaps you’ll bring her up to Hunstanton this afternoon,if she is better, Gerald.

Gerald.  I am afraid not thisafternoon, Lady Hunstanton.

Lady Hunstanton.  Well,to-morrow, then.  Ah, if you had a father, Gerald, hewouldn’t let you waste your life here.  He would sendyou off with Lord Illingworth at once.  But mothers are soweak.  They give up to their sons in everything.  Weare all heart, all heart.  Come, dear, I must call at therectory and inquire for Mrs. Daubeny, who, I am afraid, is farfrom well.  It is wonderful how the Archdeacon bears up,quite wonderful.  He is the most sympathetic ofhusbands.  Quite a model.  Good-bye, Gerald, give myfondest love to your mother.

Mrs. Allonby.  Good-bye, Mr.Arbuthnot.

Gerald.  Good-bye.

[ExitLady HunstantonandMrs. Allonby.  Gerald sits down and reads over hisletter.]

Gerald.  What name can Isign?  I, who have no right to any name.  [Signsname, puts letter into envelope, addresses it,and is about to seal it, when doorL.C. opensandMrs. Arbuthnotenters.  Gerald laysdown sealing-wax.  Mother and son look at eachother.]

Lady Hunstanton.  [ThroughFrench window at the back.]  Good-bye again,Gerald.  We are taking the short cut across your prettygarden.  Now, remember my advice to you—start at oncewith Lord Illingworth.

Mrs. Allonby.  Aurevoir, Mr. Arbuthnot.  Mind you bring me back somethingnice from your travels—not an Indian shawl—on noaccount an Indian shawl.

[Exeunt.]

Gerald.  Mother, I have justwritten to him.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  To whom?

Gerald.  To my father.  Ihave written to tell him to come here at four o’clock thisafternoon.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  He shall notcome here.  He shall not cross the threshold of myhouse.

Gerald.  He must come.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Gerald, ifyou are going away with Lord Illingworth, go at once.  Gobefore it kills me: but don’t ask me to meet him.

Gerald.  Mother, youdon’t understand.  Nothing in the world would induceme to go away with Lord Illingworth, or to leave you. Surely you know me well enough for that.  No: I have writtento him to say—

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  What can youhave to say to him?

Gerald.  Can’t youguess, mother, what I have written in this letter?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  No.

Gerald.  Mother, surely youcan.  Think, think what must be done, now, at once, withinthe next few days.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  There isnothing to be done.

Gerald.  I have written toLord Illingworth to tell him that he must marry you.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Marry me?

Gerald.  Mother, I will forcehim to do it.  The wrong that has been done you must berepaired.  Atonement must be made.  Justice may beslow, mother, but it comes in the end.  In a few days youshall be Lord Illingworth’s lawful wife.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  But,Gerald—

Gerald.  I will insist uponhis doing it.  I will make him do it: he will not dare torefuse.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  But, Gerald,it is I who refuse.  I will not marry Lord Illingworth.

Gerald.  Not marry him? Mother!

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I will notmarry him.

Gerald.  But you don’tunderstand: it is for your sake I am talking, not for mine. This marriage, this necessary marriage, this marriage which forobvious reasons must inevitably take place, will not help me,will not give me a name that will be really, rightly mine tobear.  But surely it will be something for you, that you, mymother, should, however late, become the wife of the man who ismy father.  Will not that be something?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I will notmarry him.

Gerald.  Mother, you must.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I willnot.  You talk of atonement for a wrong done.  Whatatonement can be made to me?  There is no atonementpossible.  I am disgraced: he is not.  That isall.  It is the usual history of a man and a woman as itusually happens, as it always happens.  And the ending isthe ordinary ending.  The woman suffers.  The man goesfree.

Gerald.  I don’t know ifthat is the ordinary ending, mother: I hope it is not.  Butyour life, at any rate, shall not end like that.  The manshall make whatever reparation is possible.  It is notenough.  It does not wipe out the past, I know that. But at least it makes the future better, better for you,mother.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I refuse tomarry Lord Illingworth.

Gerald.  If he came to youhimself and asked you to be his wife you would give him adifferent answer.  Remember, he is my father.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  If he camehimself, which he will not do, my answer would be the same. Remember I am your mother.

Gerald.  Mother, you make itterribly difficult for me by talking like that; and I can’tunderstand why you won’t look at this matter from theright, from the only proper standpoint.  It is to take awaythe bitterness out of your life, to take away the shadow thatlies on your name, that this marriage must take place. There is no alternative: and after the marriage you and I can goaway together.  But the marriage must take placefirst.  It is a duty that you owe, not merely to yourself,but to all other women—yes: to all the other women in theworld, lest he betray more.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I owe nothingto other women.  There is not one of them to help me. There is not one woman in the world to whom I could go for pity,if I would take it, or for sympathy, if I could win it. Women are hard on each other.  That girl, last night, goodthough she is, fled from the room as though I were a taintedthing.  She was right.  I am a tainted thing.  Butmy wrongs are my own, and I will bear them alone.  I mustbear them alone.  What have women who have not sinned to dowith me, or I with them?  We do not understand eachother.

[EnterHesterbehind.]

Gerald.  I implore you to dowhat I ask you.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  What son hasever asked of his mother to make so hideous a sacrifice? None.

Gerald.  What mother has everrefused to marry the father of her own child?  None.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Let me be thefirst, then.  I will not do it.

Gerald.  Mother, you believein religion, and you brought me up to believe in it also. Well, surely your religion, the religion that you taught me whenI was a boy, mother, must tell you that I am right.  Youknow it, you feel it.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I do not knowit.  I do not feel it, nor will I ever stand beforeGod’s altar and ask God’s blessing on so hideous amockery as a marriage between me and George Harford.  I willnot say the words the Church bids us to say.  I will not saythem.  I dare not.  How could I swear to love the man Iloathe, to honour him who wrought you dishonour, to obey him who,in his mastery, made me to sin?  No: marriage is a sacramentfor those who love each other.  It is not for such as him,or such as me.  Gerald, to save you from the world’ssneers and taunts I have lied to the world.  For twentyyears I have lied to the world.  I could not tell the worldthe truth.  Who can, ever?  But not for my own sakewill I lie to God, and in God’s presence.  No, Gerald,no ceremony, Church-hallowed or State-made, shall ever bind me toGeorge Harford.  It may be that I am too bound to himalready, who, robbing me, yet left me richer, so that in the mireof my life I found the pearl of price, or what I thought would beso.

Gerald.  I don’tunderstand you now.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Mendon’t understand what mothers are.  I am no differentfrom other women except in the wrong done me and the wrong I did,and my very heavy punishments and great disgrace.  And yet,to bear you I had to look on death.  To nurture you I had towrestle with it.  Death fought with me for you.  Allwomen have to fight with death to keep their children. Death, being childless, wants our children from us.  Gerald,when you were naked I clothed you, when you were hungry I gaveyou food.  Night and day all that long winter I tendedyou.  No office is too mean, no care too lowly for the thingwe women love—and oh! how Iloved you. Not Hannah, Samuel more.  And you needed love, for you wereweakly, and only love could have kept you alive.  Only lovecan keep any one alive.  And boys are careless often andwithout thinking give pain, and we always fancy that when theycome to man’s estate and know us better they will repayus.  But it is not so.  The world draws them from ourside, and they make friends with whom they are happier than theyare with us, and have amusements from which we are barred, andinterests that are not ours: and they are unjust to us often, forwhen they find life bitter they blame us for it, and when theyfind it sweet we do not taste its sweetness with them . . . Youmade many friends and went into their houses and were glad withthem, and I, knowing my secret, did not dare to follow, butstayed at home and closed the door, shut out the sun and sat indarkness.  What should I have done in honesthouseholds?  My past was ever with me. . . . And you thoughtI didn’t care for the pleasant things of life.  I tellyou I longed for them, but did not dare to touch them, feeling Ihad no right.  You thought I was happier working amongst thepoor.  That was my mission, you imagined.  It was not,but where else was I to go?  The sick do not ask if the handthat smooths their pillow is pure, nor the dying care if the lipsthat touch their brow have known the kiss of sin.  It wasyou I thought of all the time; I gave to them the love you didnot need: lavished on them a love that was not theirs . . . Andyou thought I spent too much of my time in going to Church, andin Church duties.  But where else could I turn? God’s house is the only house where sinners are madewelcome, and you were always in my heart, Gerald, too much in myheart.  For, though day after day, at morn or evensong, Ihave knelt in God’s house, I have never repented of mysin.  How could I repent of my sin when you, my love, wereits fruit!  Even now that you are bitter to me I cannotrepent.  I do not.  You are more to me thaninnocence.  I would rather be your mother—oh! muchrather!—than have been always pure . . . Oh, don’tyou see? don’t you understand?  It is my dishonourthat has made you so dear to me.  It is my disgrace that hasbound you so closely to me.  It is the price I paid foryou—the price of soul and body—that makes me love youas I do.  Oh, don’t ask me to do this horriblething.  Child of my shame, be still the child of myshame!

Gerald.  Mother, Ididn’t know you loved me so much as that.  And I willbe a better son to you than I have been.  And you and I mustnever leave each other . . . but, mother . . . I can’t helpit . . . you must become my father’s wife.  You mustmarry him.  It is your duty.

Hester.  [Running forwardsand embracingMrs.Arbuthnot.]  No, no; you shall not.  That wouldbe real dishonour, the first you have ever known.  Thatwould be real disgrace: the first to touch you.  Leave himand come with me.  There are other countries than England .. . Oh! other countries over sea, better, wiser, and less unjustlands.  The world is very wide and very big.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  No, not forme.  For me the world is shrivelled to a palm’sbreadth, and where I walk there are thorns.

Hester.  It shall not beso.  We shall somewhere find green valleys and fresh waters,and if we weep, well, we shall weep together.  Have we notboth loved him?

Gerald.  Hester!

Hester.  [Waving himback.]  Don’t, don’t!  You cannot loveme at all, unless you love her also.  You cannot honour me,unless she’s holier to you.  In her all womanhood ismartyred.  Not she alone, but all of us are stricken in herhouse.

Gerald.  Hester, Hester, whatshall I do?

Hester.  Do you respect theman who is your father?

Gerald.  Respect him?  Idespise him!  He is infamous.

Hester.  I thank you forsaving me from him last night.

Gerald.  Ah, that isnothing.  I would die to save you.  But you don’ttell me what to do now!

Hester.  Have I not thankedyou for saving me?

Gerald.  But what should Ido?

Hester.  Ask your own heart,not mine.  I never had a mother to save, or shame.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  He ishard—he is hard.  Let me go away.

Gerald.  [Rushes over andkneels down bedside his mother.]  Mother, forgive me: Ihave been to blame.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Don’tkiss my hands: they are cold.  My heart is cold: somethinghas broken it.

Hester.  Ah, don’t saythat.  Hearts live by being wounded.  Pleasure may turna heart to stone, riches may make it callous, butsorrow—oh, sorrow cannot break it.  Besides, whatsorrows have you now?  Why, at this moment you are more dearto him than ever, dearthough you have been, andoh! how dear you havebeen always.  Ah! be kind tohim.

Gerald.  You are my mother andmy father all in one.  I need no second parent.  It wasfor you I spoke, for you alone.  Oh, say something,mother.  Have I but found one love to lose another? Don’t tell me that.  O mother, you are cruel. [Gets up and flings himself sobbing on a sofa.]

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  [ToHester.]  But has he found indeedanother love?

Hester.  You know I have lovedhim always.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  But we arevery poor.

Hester.  Who, being loved, ispoor?  Oh, no one.  I hate my riches.  They are aburden.  Let him share it with me.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  But we aredisgraced.  We rank among the outcasts. Gerald isnameless.  The sins of the parents should be visited on thechildren.  It is God’s law.

Hester.  I was wrong. God’s law is only Love.

Mrs. Arbuthnot. [Rises, and takingHester by the hand, goes slowlyover to whereGerald is lyingon the sofa with his head buried in his hands.  Shetouches him and he looks up.]  Gerald, I cannot give youa father, but I have brought you a wife.

Gerald.  Mother, I am notworthy either of her or you.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  So she comesfirst, you are worthy.  And when you are away, Gerald . . .with . . . her—oh, think of me sometimes.  Don’tforget me.  And when you pray, pray for me.  We shouldpray when we are happiest, and you will be happy, Gerald.

Hester.  Oh, you don’tthink of leaving us?

Gerald.  Mother, youwon’t leave us?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I might bringshame upon you!

Gerald.  Mother!

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  For a littlethen: and if you let me, near you always.

Hester.  [ToMrs. Arbuthnot.]  Come out with us tothe garden.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Later on,later on.  [ExeuntHesterandGerald.  Mrs. Arbuthnot goes towards doorL.C.   Stops at looking-glass over mantelpiece andlooks into it.  EnterAlice R.C.]

Alice.  A gentleman to seeyou, ma’am.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Say I am notat home.  Show me the card.  [Takes card from salverand looks at it.]  Say I will not see him.

[Lord Illingworthenters.  Mrs. Arbuthnotsees him in the glass and starts, but does not turnround.  ExitAlice.]  What can you have to say to meto-day, George Harford?  You can have nothing to say tome.  You must leave this house.

Lord Illingworth.  Rachel,Gerald knows everything about you and me now, so some arrangementmust be come to that will suit us all three.  I assure you,he will find in me the most charming and generous of fathers.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  My son maycome in at any moment.  I saved you last night.  I maynot be able to save you again.  My son feels my dishonourstrongly, terribly strongly.  I beg you to go.

Lord Illingworth.  [Sittingdown.]  Last night was excessively unfortunate. That silly Puritan girl making a scene merely because I wanted tokiss her.  What harm is there in a kiss?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  [Turninground.]  A kiss may ruin a human life, GeorgeHarford.  Iknow that.  Iknow that toowell.

Lord Illingworth.  Wewon’t discuss that at present.  What is of importanceto-day, as yesterday, is still our son.  I am extremely fondof him, as you know, and odd though it may seem to you, I admiredhis conduct last night immensely.  He took up the cudgelsfor that pretty prude with wonderful promptitude.  He isjust what I should have liked a son of mine to be.  Exceptthat no son of mine should ever take the side of the Puritans:that is always an error.  Now, what I propose is this.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  LordIllingworth, no proposition of yours interests me.

Lord Illingworth.  Accordingto our ridiculous English laws, I can’t legitimiseGerald.  But I can leave him my property.  Illingworthis entailed, of course, but it is a tedious barrack of aplace.  He can have Ashby, which is much prettier,Harborough, which has the best shooting in the north of England,and the house in St. James Square.  What more can agentleman require in this world?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Nothing more,I am quite sure.

Lord Illingworth.  As for atitle, a title is really rather a nuisance in these democraticdays.  As George Harford I had everything I wanted. Now I have merely everything that other people want, whichisn’t nearly so pleasant.  Well, my proposal isthis.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I told you Iwas not interested, and I beg you to go.

Lord Illingworth.  The boy isto be with you for six months in the year, and with me for theother six.  That is perfectly fair, is it not?  You canhave whatever allowance you like, and live where youchoose.  As for your past, no one knows anything about itexcept myself and Gerald.  There is the Puritan, of course,the Puritan in white muslin, but she doesn’t count. She couldn’t tell the story without explaining that sheobjected to being kissed, could she?  And all the womenwould think her a fool and the men think her a bore.  Andyou need not be afraid that Gerald won’t be my heir. I needn’t tell you I have not the slightest intention ofmarrying.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  You come toolate.  My son has no need of you.  You are notnecessary.

Lord Illingworth.  What do youmean, Rachel?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  That you arenot necessary to Gerald’s career.  He does not requireyou.

Lord Illingworth.  I do notunderstand you.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Look into thegarden.  [Lord Illingworthrises and goes towards window.]  You had better notlet them see you: you bring unpleasant memories.  [Lord Illingworth looks out andstarts.]  She loves him.  They love eachother.  We are safe from you, and we are going away.

Lord Illingworth.  Where?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  We will nottell you, and if you find us we will not know you.  You seemsurprised.  What welcome would you get from the girl whoselips you tried to soil, from the boy whose life you have shamed,from the mother whose dishonour comes from you?

Lord Illingworth.  You havegrown hard, Rachel.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I was tooweak once.  It is well for me that I have changed.

Lord Illingworth.  I was veryyoung at the time.  We men know life too early.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  And we womenknow life too late.  That is the difference between men andwomen.  [A pause.]

Lord Illingworth.  Rachel, Iwant my son.  My money may be of no use to him now.  Imay be of no use to him, but I want my son.  Bring ustogether, Rachel.  You can do it if you choose. [Sees letter on table.]

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  There is noroom in my boy’s life for you.  He is not interestedin you.

Lord Illingworth.  Then whydoes he write to me?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  What do youmean?

Lord Illingworth.  What letteris this?  [Takes up letter.]

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  That—isnothing.  Give it to me.

Lord Illingworth.  It isaddressed to me.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  You are notto open it.  I forbid you to open it.

Lord Illingworth.  And inGerald’s handwriting.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  It was not tohave been sent.  It is a letter he wrote to you thismorning, before he saw me.  But he is sorry now he wrote it,very sorry.  You are not to open it.  Give it tome.

Lord Illingworth.  It belongsto me.  [Opens it, sits down and reads itslowly. Mrs. Arbuthnot watcheshim all the time.]  You have read this letter, Isuppose, Rachel?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  No.

Lord Illingworth.  You knowwhat is in it?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Yes!

Lord Illingworth.  Idon’t admit for a moment that the boy is right in what hesays.  I don’t admit that it is any duty of mine tomarry you.  I deny it entirely.  But to get my son backI am ready—yes, I am ready to marry you, Rachel—andto treat you always with the deference and respect due to mywife.  I will marry you as soon as you choose.  I giveyou my word of honour.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  You made thatpromise to me once before and broke it.

Lord Illingworth.  I will keepit now.  And that will show you that I love my son, at leastas much as you love him.  For when I marry you, Rachel,there are some ambitions I shall have to surrender.  Highambitions, too, if any ambition is high.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I decline tomarry you, Lord Illingworth.

Lord Illingworth.  Are youserious?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Yes.

Lord Illingworth.  Do tell meyour reasons.  They would interest me enormously.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  I havealready explained them to my son.

Lord Illingworth.  I supposethey were intensely sentimental, weren’t they?  Youwomen live by your emotions and for them.  You have nophilosophy of life.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  You areright.  We women live by our emotions and for them.  Byour passions, and for them, if you will.  I have twopassions, Lord Illingworth: my love of him, my hate of you. You cannot kill those.  They feed each other.

Lord Illingworth.  What sortof love is that which needs to have hate as its brother?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  It is thesort of love I have for Gerald.  Do you think thatterrible?  Well it is terrible.  All love isterrible.  All love is a tragedy.  I loved you once,Lord Illingworth.  Oh, what a tragedy for a woman to haveloved you!

Lord Illingworth.  So youreally refuse to marry me?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Yes.

Lord Illingworth.  Because youhate me?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Yes.

Lord Illingworth.  And does myson hate me as you do?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  No.

Lord Illingworth.  I am gladof that, Rachel.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  He merelydespises you.

Lord Illingworth.  What apity!  What a pity for him, I mean.

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Don’tbe deceived, George.  Children begin by loving theirparents.  After a time they judge them.  Rarely if everdo they forgive them.

Lord Illingworth.  [Readsletter over again, very slowly.]  May I ask bywhat arguments you made the boy who wrote this letter, thisbeautiful, passionate letter, believe that you should not marryhis father, the father of your own child?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  It was not Iwho made him see it.  It was another.

Lord Illingworth.  Whatfin-de-siècleperson?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  The Puritan,Lord Illingworth.  [A pause.]

Lord Illingworth. [Winces, then rises slowly and goes over to table wherehis hat and gloves are.  Mrs.Arbuthnot is standing close to the table. He picks up one of the gloves, and begins pulling iton.]  There is not much then for me to do here,Rachel?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  Nothing.

Lord Illingworth.  It isgood-bye, is it?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  For ever, Ihope, this time, Lord Illingworth.

Lord Illingworth.  Howcurious!  At this moment you look exactly as you looked thenight you left me twenty years ago.  You have just the sameexpression in your mouth.  Upon my word, Rachel, no womanever loved me as you did.  Why, you gave yourself to me likea flower, to do anything I liked with.  You were theprettiest of playthings, the most fascinating of small romances .. . [Pulls out watch.]  Quarter to two!  Must bestrolling back to Hunstanton.  Don’t suppose I shallsee you there again.  I’m sorry, I am, really. It’s been an amusing experience to have met amongst peopleof one’s own rank, and treated quite seriously too,one’s mistress, and one’s—

[Mrs. Arbuthnot snatches upglove and strikesLord Illingworthacross the face with it.  LordIllingworth starts.  He is dazed by theinsult of his punishment.  Then he controlshimself, and goes to window and looks out at hisson.  Sighs and leaves the room.]

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  [Fallssobbing on the sofa.]  He would have said it.  Hewould have said it.

[EnterGerald andHester from the garden.]

Gerald.  Well, dearmother.  You never came out after all.  So we have comein to fetch you.  Mother, you have not been crying? [Kneels down beside her.]

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  My boy! My boy!  My boy!  [Running her fingers through hishair.]

Hester.  [Comingover.]  But you have two children now. You’ll let me be your daughter?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  [Lookingup.]  Would you choose me for a mother?

Hester.  You of all women Ihave ever known.

[They move towards the door leading into garden with theirarms round each other’s waists.  Gerald goes to tableL.C. for hishat.  On turning round he seesLord Illingworth’s glove lying onthe floor, and picks it up.]

Gerald.  Hallo, mother, whoseglove is this?  You have had a visitor.  Who wasit?

Mrs. Arbuthnot.  [Turninground.]  Oh! no one.  No one in particular.  Aman of no importance.

Curtain

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