About this book

An ideal husband

Oscar Wilde

one never knows how wonderful the thing that one steals is. You can’t get that bracelet off, unless you know where the spring is. And I see you don’t know where the spring is. It is rather difficult to find. MRS. CHEVELEY. You brute! You coward! [_She tries again to unclasp the bracelet_, _but fails_.] LORD GORING. Oh! don’t use big words. They mean so little. MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Again tears at the bracelet in a paroxysm of rage_, _with inarticulate sounds_. _Then stops_, _and looks at_ LORD GORING.] What are you going to do? LORD GORING. I am going to ring for my servant. He is an admirable servant. Always comes in the moment one rings for him. When he comes I will tell him to fetch the police. MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Trembling_.] The police? What for? LORD GORING. To-morrow the Berkshires will prosecute you. That is what the police are for. MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Is now in an agony of physical terror_. _Her face is distorted_. _Her mouth awry_. _A mask has fallen from her_. _She is_, _for the moment_, _dreadful to look at_.] Don’t do that. I will do anything you want. Anything in the world you want. LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern’s letter. MRS. CHEVELEY. Stop! Stop! Let me have time to think. LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern’s letter. MRS. CHEVELEY. I have not got it with me. I will give it to you to-morrow. LORD GORING. You know you are lying. Give it to me at once. [MRS. CHEVELEY _pulls the letter out_, _and hands it to him_. _She is horribly pale_.] This is it? MRS. CHEVELEY. [_In a hoarse voice_.] Yes. LORD GORING. [_Takes the letter_, _examines it_, _sighs_, _and burns it with the lamp_.] For so well-dressed a woman, Mrs. Cheveley, you have moments of admirable common sense. I congratulate you. MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Catches sight of_ LADY CHILTERN’S _letter_, _the cover of which is just showing from under the blotting-book_.] Please get me a glass of water. LORD GORING. Certainly. [_Goes to the corner of the room and pours out a glass of water_. _While his back is turned_ MRS. CHEVELEY _steals_ LADY CHILTERN’S _letter_. _When_ LORD GORING _returns the glass she refuses it with a gesture_.] MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. Will you help me on with my cloak? LORD GORING. With pleasure. [_Puts her cloak on_.] MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. I am never going to try to harm Robert Chiltern again. LORD GORING. Fortunately you have not the chance, Mrs. Cheveley. MRS. CHEVELEY. Well, if even I had the chance, I wouldn’t. On the contrary, I am going to render him a great service. LORD GORING. I am charmed to hear it. It is a reformation. MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. I can’t bear so upright a gentleman, so honourable an English gentleman, being so shamefully deceived, and so— LORD GORING. Well? MRS. CHEVELEY. I find that somehow Gertrude Chiltern’s dying speech and confession has strayed into my pocket. LORD GORING. What do you mean? MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a bitter note of triumph in her voice_.] I mean that I am going to send Robert Chiltern the love-letter his wife wrote to you to-night. LORD GORING. Love-letter? MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Laughing_.] ‘I want you. I trust you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.’ [LORD GORING _rushes to the bureau and takes up the envelope_, _finds is empty_, _and turns round_.] LORD GORING. You wretched woman, must you always be thieving? Give me back that letter. I’ll take it from you by force. You shall not leave my room till I have got it. [_He rushes towards her_, _but_ MRS. CHEVELEY _at once puts her hand on the electric bell that is on the table_. _The bell sounds with shrill reverberations_, _and_ PHIPPS _enters_.] MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a pause_.] Lord Goring merely rang that you should show me out. Good-night, Lord Goring! [_Goes out followed by_ PHIPPS. _Her face is illumined with evil triumph_. _There is joy in her eyes_. _Youth seems to have come back to her_. _Her last glance is like a swift arrow_. LORD GORING _bites his lip_, _and lights a cigarette_.] ACT DROP. FOURTH ACT SCENE _Same as Act II_. [LORD GORING _is standing by the fireplace with his hands in his pockets_. _He is looking rather bored_.] LORD GORING. [_Pulls out his watch_, _inspects it_, _and rings the bell_.] It is a great nuisance. I can’t find any one in this house to talk to. And I am full of interesting information. I feel like the latest edition of something or other. [_Enter servant_.] JAMES. Sir Robert is still at the Foreign Office, my lord. LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern not down yet? JAMES. Her ladyship has not yet left her room. Miss Chiltern has just come in from riding. LORD GORING. [_To himself_.] Ah! that is something. JAMES. Lord Caversham has been waiting some time in the library for Sir Robert. I told him your lordship was here. LORD GORING. Thank you! Would you kindly tell him I’ve gone? JAMES. [_Bowing_.] I shall do so, my lord. [_Exit servant_.] LORD GORING. Really, I don’t want to meet my father three days running. It is a great deal too much excitement for any son. I hope to goodness he won’t come up. Fathers should be neither seen nor heard. That is the only proper basis for family life. Mothers are different. Mothers are darlings. [_Throws himself down into a chair_, _picks up a paper and begins to read it_.] [_Enter_ LORD CAVERSHAM.] LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, what are you doing here? Wasting your time as usual, I suppose? LORD GORING. [_Throws down paper and rises_.] My dear father, when one pays a visit it is for the purpose of wasting other people’s time, not one’s own. LORD CAVERSHAM. Have you been thinking over what I spoke to you about last night? LORD GORING. I have been thinking about nothing else. LORD CAVERSHAM. Engaged to be married yet? LORD GORING. [_Genially_.] Not yet: but I hope to be before lunch-time. LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Caustically_.] You can have till dinner-time if it would be of any convenience to you. LORD GORING. Thanks awfully, but I think I’d sooner be engaged before lunch. LORD CAVERSHAM. Humph! Never know when you are serious or not. LORD GORING. Neither do I, father. [_A pause_.] LORD CAVERSHAM. I suppose you have read _The Times_ this morning? LORD GORING. [_Airily_.] The Times? Certainly not. I only read _The Morning Post_. All that one should know about modern life is where the Duchesses are; anything else is quite demoralising. LORD CAVERSHAM. Do you mean to say you have not read _The Times_ leading article on Robert Chiltern’s career? LORD GORING. Good heavens! No. What does it say? LORD CAVERSHAM. What should it say, sir? Everything complimentary, of course. Chiltern’s speech last night on this Argentine Canal scheme was one of the finest pieces of oratory ever delivered in the House since Canning. LORD GORING. Ah! Never heard of Canning. Never wanted to. And did . . . did Chiltern uphold the scheme? LORD CAVERSHAM. Uphold it, sir? How little you know him! Why, he denounced it roundly, and the whole system of modern political finance. This speech is the turning-point in his career, as _The Times_ points out. You should read this article, sir. [_Opens_ The Times.] ‘Sir Robert Chiltern . . . most rising of our young statesmen . . . Brilliant Orator . . . Unblemished career . . . Well-known integrity of character . . . Represents what is best in English public life . . . Noble contrast to the lax morality so common among foreign politicians.’ They will never say that of you, sir. LORD GORING. I sincerely hope not, father. However, I am delighted at what you tell me about Robert, thoroughly delighted. It shows he has got pluck. LORD CAVERSHAM. He has got more than pluck, sir, he has got genius. LORD GORING. Ah! I prefer pluck. It is not so common, nowadays, as genius is. LORD CAVERSHAM. I wish you would go into Parliament. LORD GORING. My dear father, only people who look dull ever get into the House of Commons, and only people who are dull ever succeed there. LORD CAVERSHAM. Why don’t you try to do something useful in life? LORD GORING. I am far too young. LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Testily_.] I hate this affectation of youth, sir. It is a great deal too prevalent nowadays. LORD GORING. Youth isn’t an affectation. Youth is an art. LORD CAVERSHAM. Why don’t you propose to that pretty Miss Chiltern? LORD GORING. I am of a very nervous disposition, especially in the morning. LORD CAVERSHAM. I don’t suppose there is the smallest chance of her accepting you. LORD GORING. I don’t know how the betting stands to-day. LORD CAVERSHAM. If she did accept you she would be the prettiest fool in England. LORD GORING. That is just what I should like to marry. A thoroughly sensible wife would reduce me to a condition of absolute idiocy in less than six months. LORD CAVERSHAM. You don’t deserve her, sir. LORD GORING. My dear father, if we men married the women we deserved, we should have a very bad time of it. [_Enter_ MABEL CHILTERN.] MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! . . . How do you do, Lord Caversham? I hope Lady Caversham is quite well? LORD CAVERSHAM. Lady Caversham is as usual, as usual. LORD GORING. Good morning, Miss Mabel! MABEL CHILTERN. [_Taking no notice at all of_ LORD GORING, _and addressing herself exclusively to_ LORD CAVERSHAM.] And Lady Caversham’s bonnets . . . are they at all better? LORD CAVERSHAM. They have had a serious relapse, I am sorry to say. LORD GORING. Good morning, Miss Mabel! MABEL CHILTERN. [_To_ LORD CAVERSHAM.] I hope an operation will not be necessary. LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Smiling at her pertness_.] If it is, we shall have to give Lady Caversham a narcotic. Otherwise she would never consent to have a feather touched. LORD GORING. [_With increased emphasis_.] Good morning, Miss Mabel! MABEL CHILTERN. [_Turning round with feigned surprise_.] Oh, are you here? Of course you understand that after your breaking your appointment I am never going to speak to you again. LORD GORING. Oh, please don’t say such a thing. You are the one person in London I really like to have to listen to me. MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring, I never believe a single word that either you or I say to each other. LORD CAVERSHAM. You are quite right, my dear, quite right . . . as far as he is concerned, I mean. MABEL CHILTERN. Do you think you could possibly make your son behave a little better occasionally? Just as a change. LORD CAVERSHAM. I regret to say, Miss Chiltern, that I have no influence at all over my son. I wish I had. If I had, I know what I would make him do. MABEL CHILTERN. I am afraid that he has one of those terribly weak natures that are not susceptible to influence. LORD CAVERSHAM. He is very heartless, very heartless. LORD GORING. It seems to me that I am a little in the way here. MABEL CHILTERN. It is very good for you to be in the way, and to know what people say of you behind your back. LORD GORING. I don’t at all like knowing what people say of me behind my back. It makes me far too conceited. LORD CAVERSHAM. After that, my dear, I really must bid you good morning. MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! I hope you are not going to leave me all alone with Lord Goring? Especially at such an early hour in the day. LORD CAVERSHAM. I am afraid I can’t take him with me to Downing Street. It is not the Prime Minster’s day for seeing the unemployed. [_Shakes hands with_ MABEL CHILTERN, _takes up his hat and stick_, _and goes out_, _with a parting glare of indignation at_ LORD GORING.]