Knowledge house - Oscar Wilde - The Complete Works

mrs. arbuthnot

Yes.

lord illingworth

Do tell me your reasons. They would interest me enormously.

mrs. arbuthnot

I have already explained them to my son.

lord illingworth

I suppose they were intensely sentimental, weren’t they? You women live by your emotions and for them. You have no philosophy of life.

mrs. arbuthnot

You are right. We women live by our emotions and for them. By our passions, and for them, if you will. I have two passions, Lord Illingworth: my love of him, my hate of you. You cannot kill those. They feed each other.

·150· lord illingworth

What sort of love is that which needs to have hate as its brother?

mrs. arbuthnot

It is the sort of love I have for Gerald. Do you think that terrible? Well, it is terrible. All love is terrible. All love is a tragedy. I loved you once, Lord Illingworth. Oh, what a tragedy for a woman to have loved you!

lord illingworth

So you really refuse to marry me?

mrs. arbuthnot

Yes.

lord illingworth

Because you hate me?

mrs. arbuthnot

Yes.

lord illingworth

And does my son hate me as you do?

mrs. arbuthnot

No.

·151· lord illingworth

I am glad of that, Rachel.

mrs. arbuthnot

He merely despises you.

lord illingworth

What a pity! What a pity for him, I mean.

mrs. arbuthnot

Don’t be deceived, George. Children begin by loving their parents. After a time they judge them. Rarely if ever do they forgive them.

lord illingworth

[ Reads letter over again, very slowly .] May I ask by what arguments you made the boy who wrote this letter, this beautiful, passionate letter, believe that you should not marry his father, the father of your own child. [ E:child?]

mrs. arbuthnot

It was not I who made him see it. It was another.

lord illingworth

What fin-de-siècle person?

mrs. arbuthnot

The Puritan, Lord Illingworth. [ A pause .]

·152· lord illingworth

[ Winces, then rises slowly and goes over to table where his hat and gloves are. Mrs. Arbuthnot is standing close to the table. He picks up one of the gloves and begins putting it on .] There is not much then for me to do here, Rachel?

mrs. arbuthnot

Nothing.

lord illingworth

It is good-bye, is it?

mrs. arbuthnot

For ever, I hope, this time, Lord Illingworth.

lord illingworth

How curious! At this moment you look exactly as you looked the night you left me twenty years ago. You have just the same expression in your mouth. Upon my word, Rachel, no woman ever loved me as you did. Why, you gave yourself to me like a flower, to do anything I liked with. You were the prettiest of playthings, the most fascinating of small romances…. [ Pulls out watch .] Quarter to two! Must be strolling back to Hunstanton. Don’t suppose I shall see you there again. I’m sorry, I am, really. It’s been an amusing experience to have met amongst ·153· people of one’s own rank, and treated quite seriously too, one’s mistress, and one’s——

[ Mrs. Arbuthnot snatches up glove and strikes Lord Illingworth across the face with it. Lord Illingworth starts. He is dazed by the insult of his punishment. Then he controls himself, and goes to window and looks out at his son. Sighs, and leaves the room .]

mrs. arbuthnot

[ Falls sobbing on the sofa .] He would have said it. He would have said it.

[ Enter Gerald and Hester from the garden .]

gerald

Well, dear mother. You never came out after all. So we have come in 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 his hair .]

hester

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

mrs. arbuthnot

[ Looking up .] Would you choose me for a mother?

·154· hester

You of all women I have ever known.

[ They move towards the door leading into garden with their arms round each other’s waists. Gerald goes to table L.C. for his hat. On turning round he sees Lord Illingworth’s glove lying on the floor, and picks it up .]

gerald

Hallo, mother, whose glove is this? You have had a visitor. Who was it?

mrs. arbuthnot

[ Turning round .] Oh! no one. No one in particular. A man of no importance.

Curtain.



by

The Author of Lady Windermere’s Fan

London: Leonard Smithers and Co

5 Old Bond Street W, 1899

[The text follows the

first edition.]

contents.



First Act.

Second Act.

Third Act.

Fourth Act.

·[v]· to

frank harris

a slight tribute to

his power and distinction

as an artist

his chivalry and nobility

as a friend

·[vii]· the persons of the play

the earl of caversham, K.G.

viscount goring, his Son

sir robert chiltern, Bart., Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs

vicomte de nanjac, Attaché at the French Embassy in London

mr. montford

mason, Butler to Sir Robert Chiltern

phipps, Lord Goring’s Servant

james,

harold, Footmen

lady chiltern

lady markby

the countess of basildon

mrs. marchmont

miss mabel chiltern, Sir Robert Chiltern’s Sister

mrs. cheveley

·[ix]· the scenes of the play

Act I: The Octagon Room in Sir Robert Chiltern’s House in Grosvenor Square .

Act II: Morning-room in Sir Robert Chiltern’s House .

Act III: The Library of Lord Goring’s House in Curzon Street .

Act IV: Same as Act II .

Time …. The Present .

Place …. London .

The Action of the Play is completed within twenty-four hours .

·[xi]· THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET

Sole Lessee: Mr. Herbert Beerbohm Tree Managers: Mr. Lewis Waller and Mr. H. H. Morell January 3 rd, 1895

·1· SCENE—The octagon room at Sir Robert Chiltern’s house in Grosvenor Square.

[ The room is brilliantly lighted and full of guests. At the top of the staircase stands Lady Chiltern, a woman of grave Greek beauty, about twenty-seven years of age. She receives the guests as they come up. Over the well of the staircase hangs a great chandelier with wax lights, which illumine a large eighteenth-century French tapestry—representing the Triumph of Love, from a design by Boucher—that is stretched on the staircase wall. On the right is the entrance to the music-room. The sound of a string quartette is faintly heard. The entrance on the left leads to other reception-rooms. Mrs. Marchmont and Lady Basildon, two very pretty women, are seated together on a Louis Seize sofa. They are types of exquisite fragility. Their affectation of manner has a delicate charm. Watteau would have loved to paint them .]