An ideal husband
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. The affair to which you allude was no more than a
speculation. The House of Commons had not yet passed the bill; it might
have been rejected.
MRS. CHEVELEY. It was a swindle, Sir Robert. Let us call things by
their proper names. It makes everything simpler. And now I am going to
sell you that letter, and the price I ask for it is your public support
of the Argentine scheme. You made your own fortune out of one canal.
You must help me and my friends to make our fortunes out of another!
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It is infamous, what you propose—infamous!
MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, no! This is the game of life as we all have to play
it, Sir Robert, sooner or later!
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I cannot do what you ask me.
MRS. CHEVELEY. You mean you cannot help doing it. You know you are
standing on the edge of a precipice. And it is not for you to make
terms. It is for you to accept them. Supposing you refuse—
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What then?
MRS. CHEVELEY. My dear Sir Robert, what then? You are ruined, that is
all! Remember to what a point your Puritanism in England has brought
you. In old days nobody pretended to be a bit better than his
neighbours. In fact, to be a bit better than one’s neighbour was
considered excessively vulgar and middle-class. Nowadays, with our
modern mania for morality, every one has to pose as a paragon of purity,
incorruptibility, and all the other seven deadly virtues—and what is the
result? You all go over like ninepins—one after the other. Not a year
passes in England without somebody disappearing. Scandals used to lend
charm, or at least interest, to a man—now they crush him. And yours is a
very nasty scandal. You couldn’t survive it. If it were known that as a
young man, secretary to a great and important minister, you sold a
Cabinet secret for a large sum of money, and that that was the origin of
your wealth and career, you would be hounded out of public life, you
would disappear completely. And after all, Sir Robert, why should you
sacrifice your entire future rather than deal diplomatically with your
enemy? For the moment I am your enemy. I admit it! And I am much
stronger than you are. The big battalions are on my side. You have a
splendid position, but it is your splendid position that makes you so
vulnerable. You can’t defend it! And I am in attack. Of course I have
not talked morality to you. You must admit in fairness that I have
spared you that. Years ago you did a clever, unscrupulous thing; it
turned out a great success. You owe to it your fortune and position.
And now you have got to pay for it. Sooner or later we have all to pay
for what we do. You have to pay now. Before I leave you to-night, you
have got to promise me to suppress your report, and to speak in the House
in favour of this scheme.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What you ask is impossible.
MRS. CHEVELEY. You must make it possible. You are going to make it
possible. Sir Robert, you know what your English newspapers are like.
Suppose that when I leave this house I drive down to some newspaper
office, and give them this scandal and the proofs of it! Think of their
loathsome joy, of the delight they would have in dragging you down, of
the mud and mire they would plunge you in. Think of the hypocrite with
his greasy smile penning his leading article, and arranging the foulness
of the public placard.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Stop! You want me to withdraw the report and to
make a short speech stating that I believe there are possibilities in the
scheme?
MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Sitting down on the sofa_.] Those are my terms.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_In a low voice_.] I will give you any sum of
money you want.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Even you are not rich enough, Sir Robert, to buy back
your past. No man is.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I will not do what you ask me. I will not.
MRS. CHEVELEY. You have to. If you don’t . . . [_Rises from the sofa_.]
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Bewildered and unnerved_.] Wait a moment! What
did you propose? You said that you would give me back my letter, didn’t
you?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. That is agreed. I will be in the Ladies’ Gallery
to-morrow night at half-past eleven. If by that time—and you will have
had heaps of opportunity—you have made an announcement to the House in
the terms I wish, I shall hand you back your letter with the prettiest
thanks, and the best, or at any rate the most suitable, compliment I can
think of. I intend to play quite fairly with you. One should always
play fairly . . . when one has the winning cards. The Baron taught me
that . . . amongst other things.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You must let me have time to consider your
proposal.
MRS. CHEVELEY. No; you must settle now!
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Give me a week—three days!
MRS. CHEVELEY. Impossible! I have got to telegraph to Vienna to-night.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My God! what brought you into my life?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Circumstances. [_Moves towards the door_.]
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Don’t go. I consent. The report shall be
withdrawn. I will arrange for a question to be put to me on the subject.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. I knew we should come to an amicable
agreement. I understood your nature from the first. I analysed you,
though you did not adore me. And now you can get my carriage for me, Sir
Robert. I see the people coming up from supper, and Englishmen always
get romantic after a meal, and that bores me dreadfully. [_Exit_ SIR
ROBERT CHILTERN.]
[_Enter Guests_, LADY CHILTERN, LADY MARKBY, LORD CAVERSHAM, LADY
BASILDON, MRS. MARCHMONT, VICOMTE DE NANJAC, MR. MONTFORD.]
LADY MARKBY. Well, dear Mrs. Cheveley, I hope you have enjoyed yourself.
Sir Robert is very entertaining, is he not?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Most entertaining! I have enjoyed my talk with him
immensely.
LADY MARKBY. He has had a very interesting and brilliant career. And he
has married a most admirable wife. Lady Chiltern is a woman of the very
highest principles, I am glad to say. I am a little too old now, myself,
to trouble about setting a good example, but I always admire people who
do. And Lady Chiltern has a very ennobling effect on life, though her
dinner-parties are rather dull sometimes. But one can’t have everything,
can one? And now I must go, dear. Shall I call for you to-morrow?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks.
LADY MARKBY. We might drive in the Park at five. Everything looks so
fresh in the Park now!
MRS. CHEVELEY. Except the people!
LADY MARKBY. Perhaps the people are a little jaded. I have often
observed that the Season as it goes on produces a kind of softening of
the brain. However, I think anything is better than high intellectual
pressure. That is the most unbecoming thing there is. It makes the
noses of the young girls so particularly large. And there is nothing so
difficult to marry as a large nose; men don’t like them. Good-night,
dear! [_To_ LADY CHILTERN.] Good-night, Gertrude! [_Goes out on_ LORD
CAVERSHAM’S _arm_.]
MRS. CHEVELEY. What a charming house you have, Lady Chiltern! I have
spent a delightful evening. It has been so interesting getting to know
your husband.
LADY CHILTERN. Why did you wish to meet my husband, Mrs. Cheveley?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I will tell you. I wanted to interest him in this
Argentine Canal scheme, of which I dare say you have heard. And I found
him most susceptible,—susceptible to reason, I mean. A rare thing in a
man. I converted him in ten minutes. He is going to make a speech in
the House to-morrow night in favour of the idea. We must go to the
Ladies’ Gallery and hear him! It will be a great occasion!
LADY CHILTERN. There must be some mistake. That scheme could never have
my husband’s support.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I assure you it’s all settled. I don’t regret my
tedious journey from Vienna now. It has been a great success. But, of
course, for the next twenty-four hours the whole thing is a dead secret.
LADY CHILTERN. [_Gently_.] A secret? Between whom?
MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a flash of amusement in her eyes_.] Between your
husband and myself.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Entering_.] Your carriage is here, Mrs.
Cheveley!
MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks! Good evening, Lady Chiltern! Good-night, Lord
Goring! I am at Claridge’s. Don’t you think you might leave a card?
LORD GORING. If you wish it, Mrs. Cheveley!
MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, don’t be so solemn about it, or I shall be obliged to
leave a card on you. In England I suppose that would hardly be
considered _en règle_. Abroad, we are more civilised. Will you see me
down, Sir Robert? Now that we have both the same interests at heart we
shall be great friends, I hope!
[_Sails out on_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN’S _arm_. LADY CHILTERN _goes to the
top of the staircase and looks down at them as they descend_. _Her
expression is troubled_. _After a little time she is joined by some of
the guests_, _and passes with them into another reception-room_.]
MABEL CHILTERN. What a horrid woman!
LORD GORING. You should go to bed, Miss Mabel.
MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring!
LORD GORING. My father told me to go to bed an hour ago. I don’t see
why I shouldn’t give you the same advice. I always pass on good advice.
It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use to oneself.
MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring, you are always ordering me out of the room.
I think it most courageous of you. Especially as I am not going to bed
for hours. [_Goes over to the sofa_.] You can come and sit down if you
like, and talk about anything in the world, except the Royal Academy,
Mrs. Cheveley, or novels in Scotch dialect. They are not improving
subjects. [_Catches sight of something that is lying on the sofa half
hidden by the cushion_.] What is this? Some one has dropped a diamond
brooch! Quite beautiful, isn’t it? [_Shows it to him_.] I wish it was
mine, but Gertrude won’t let me wear anything but pearls, and I am
thoroughly sick of pearls. They make one look so plain, so good and so
intellectual. I wonder whom the brooch belongs to.
LORD GORING. I wonder who dropped it.
MABEL CHILTERN. It is a beautiful brooch.
LORD GORING. It is a handsome bracelet.
MABEL CHILTERN. It isn’t a bracelet. It’s a brooch.
LORD GORING. It can be used as a bracelet. [_Takes it from her_, _and_,
_pulling out a green letter-case_, _puts the ornament carefully in it_,
_and replaces the whole thing in his breast-pocket with the most perfect
sang froid_.]
MABEL CHILTERN. What are you doing?
LORD GORING. Miss Mabel, I am going to make a rather strange request to
you.
MABEL CHILTERN. [_Eagerly_.] Oh, pray do! I have been waiting for it
all the evening.
LORD GORING. [_Is a little taken aback_, _but recovers himself_.] Don’t
mention to anybody that I have taken charge of this brooch. Should any
one write and claim it, let me know at once.
MABEL CHILTERN. That is a strange request.
LORD GORING. Well, you see I gave this brooch to somebody once, years
ago.
MABEL CHILTERN. You did?
LORD GORING. Yes.
[LADY CHILTERN _enters alone_. _The other guests have gone_.]
MABEL CHILTERN. Then I shall certainly bid you good-night. Good-night,
Gertrude! [_Exit_.]
LADY CHILTERN. Good-night, dear! [_To_ LORD GORING.] You saw whom Lady
Markby brought here to-night?
LORD GORING. Yes. It was an unpleasant surprise. What did she come
here for?
LADY CHILTERN. Apparently to try and lure Robert to uphold some
fraudulent scheme in which she is interested. The Argentine Canal, in
fact.
LORD GORING. She has mistaken her man, hasn’t she?
LADY CHILTERN. She is incapable of understanding an upright nature like
my husband’s!